❝You did well. Now you need to recuperate. ❞ - James
Recuperate? Recuperate? Hadn't that practically been what she was doing the last--two years while he let everything go to hell? He'd brought his armies to Vale to help, and he failed. He ran home, hid behind them, and hoped Ozma wouldn't find him, and despite her attempts to tell him it was stupid and pointless, he still did it. He failed to follow her instructions. He caused the deaths of hundreds, no, thousands of people--deaths she could have prevented.
Salem did the only thing that naturally came to her, the only thing that would physically punctuate her anger.
She slapped him across the face, audibly.
"Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't do, James." Every word of hers was punctuated with anger, and unlike how she usually conducted herself, she wasn't hiding it; her Empathy flared, leaking into her words and permeating the area. James had been... selfish. Stupid. She'd tried to get him to send someone to get her; instead, he ran off, hid behind his armies, failed to listen to what was inevitably going to happen, and left Ozma's greatest threat to suffer, buried under rubble, going through the agonizing, torturous sensation of death all over again.
Brushing off her clothing--or rather, what was left of it--she narrowed her eyes at him, anger flickering in her teal gaze. "Or have you forgotten that I am immortal? Oh, that's right. You should know that. It's not like I spent the last two years dying over again while you hid behind your piss-poor defenses like the coward you are, instead of listening to the one person who knows exactly how Ozma operates." Scoffing down at her clothes, she focused for a moment, drawing in a deep breath as a hand waved over them, repairing and cleaning them as best she could manage.
"Let's go." She wasn't about to deal with his--grovelling. They were in the middle of the ruins that was Beacon Academy, and there were Grimm everywhere. She'd have to carve a damned path out of here with her magic, probably. At least her emotions were enough to fuel that magic; it often made her combat magic stronger, and a few Grimm weren't about to slow her down.