"...how odd, it would seem you belong with Diasmonia."
In the next moment, Subaru is pulled back by the scruff of her collar, a sharp squeek making it's way out of her throat as she is suddenly brought against someone's chest, nails digging into her shoulder, a low, frustrated growl filling her ears.
"Why the mirror would choose to put you there," the man hissed, nails digging deeper into the cloth of the ceremonial robe, and by extension, her skin, clearly unamused, "is beyond me, but I trust that it does not make mistakes, thus I suppose you will not make a habit of this."
The following thirty-seven minutes is a mess of getting through the rest of the sorting, making sure people are unharmed, and, ultimately, foisting the fire-type cat-Pokèmon into her arms with some sort of magical sedative.
Honestly, by the time she's face to face with the fuming half-fae, she's kind of out of it, simply going through the motions of surviving the rest of the day, so really, while his anger is something of an expected thing, the cornering her while they're on their way to vaunted 'Diasmonia Dorm' is, decidedly, not.
"I hope you understand the absolute humi-"
Pulling the tiny demon of a Pokèmon closer to her chest with one arm, Subaru raises the other with a half-hearted swiping gesture, making him back off a bit.
"Yell at me tomorrow, I have a monster to corrall and a bed to sleep in."
And with that said, she takes the lead, leaving the poor boy to splutter out half-formed sentences in a language she doesn't recognize.
