As the night went on, more and more magical girls arrived at the decaying construction site-turned-battlefield, some were not visually noticed by Lumiere, especially those who immediately focused on searching after the new Grimoire. Among those who were observed, however, brought their own unique tools of the trade to stave off the Pageless still stubbornly gunning for the half-conscious civilians. One wielded the mythical Ruyi Jingu Bang, embodying the legend of Wu Kong, his strength and agility to be more specific as Tesni didn't exactly share the Monkey King's sharp wit, but in the right company, a blunt force trauma specialist was needed as long as there were others who could compensate where she lacked. Fortunately, Lumiere was used to leading others as an older veteran figure.
"That's indeed true, Miss Tesni, but it appears that more and more Pageless decide to shift their focus to the Grimoire instead." The white-clad angel informed the Monkey King even as her wings zipped, fired, and sliced all around her, "It's not so much as the future bearer that's in danger, but if the Pageless arrives at the Grimoire first before she can, then they'll surely rip it apart!" Indeed, the mission of protecting the Grimoire had two distinct aspects to it, the Grimoire itself and its would-be bearer. Although the best case scenario would be keeping both of them safe from harm, but if they could only pick one, the pragmatic choice would be the Grimoire as it could always pick another maiden as its previous one passed due to one reason or another.
The group's next arrival was one of those rare Alter Grimoire magical girls, although Ethereal Rose adhered to the common theme of altered grimoires having some kind of dark twist to the story, unlike Captain Goodhope that ironically embodied a more idealistic version of the originally dark tale. It was fortunate that Lumiere was already familiar with Rose and her... Pageless-esque companion, a proper shepherd must be familiar with her flock after all, including the unusual ones. She had seen her share of Alters over the century, most of them wanting nothing to do with the Grand Ministry so those who did became quite memorable. "Oui, of course, Miss Rose, a macabre dance awaits us, although I'm sure it's something you and Xolys will have no problem handling. Now then... en garde, Daemons of Shadow!
Lumiere spun once like an aerial ballerina as all eight wings gathered around her like the outstretched arms of an octopus before she began firing beams after beams to each and every Pageless she could get a clear shot at, purifying them into particles with holy light as Lilac the dashing chevalier zipped through the night, impaling Pageless left and right, while Burning Heart's halberd sliced and diced the shadowy horde by her side.
While the four magical girls fought directly with their weapons of choice, obelisk-wings, shapeshifting quarterstaff, rainbow rapier, and burning naginata respectively, there were others who preferred to let others do their dirty work for them. The blonde beauty needed not to sully her hands with disgusting black ichor as her otherworldly lover Xolys was more than capable of engaging the horde himself, a veritable orca to the piranhas as the Pageless got a taste of their own medicine... only tenfold, claws and tentacles much bigger than theirs tearing through their ranks. Meanwhile, Captain Goodhope confirmed the appropriateness of the first half of her moniker by summoning her crew, a trio of Dutch mariners from the Age of Exploration. The three men wasted no time in engaging the barbaric horde.
Regardless of how they fought, the combined might of the group were enough to completely purify the civilians' surrounding area from those who wished them harm. "Merveilleux, les filles," Lumiere quipped with a solemn smile as her wings returned to their standard formation behind her, "Now we can assist our brethren in finding the Grimoire and hunting any stragglers."
Then, just as she said that, the Pageless horde revealed their trump card or a last act of desperation, depending on one's perspective, as a gigantic mechanical-esque creature slammed down on the middle of the site, spewing dust and debris everywhere as the ground quaked from its sheer weight. The gargantuan Pageless then wasted no time in marching forward, smashing anything in its way, focused in its singular purpose of destroying the infantile Grimoire.
In response, Lumiere sent four of her wings between the monster and its destination before portalling there. "Not one more step, demon!" She then gathered all eight of them in front of her as she extended her right arm outward, her power and wings combined formed a huge circular golden barrier right in front of the clambering creature, blocking its path.
Of course, said creature saw Lumiere's barrier as no different than any other obstacle, it pulled its right forelimb back then struck forward, the jackhammer-like tip smashing against the seraph's semi-transparent shield, causing golden sparks to fly. "Nnngh...!!" Lumiere gritted her teeth, reeling from the force of the blow, she could also see cracks forming on her barrier. Just one strike and it could already do this much damage and she dedicated all of her wings for this too. "Comrades, destroy it! Now!" She shouted, imploring everyone who could hear her to start focusing on the Pageless leviathan.
The girl seemed to quiet down after Stripes spoke to her. This was an agreeable outcome. Often hostages that weren't entranced by magic would ask a bunch of silly questions like why a larger than life tiger could talk, wear a witches' hat, or any other silly question that might force its way into their panic filled minds. It wasn't something Stripes could empathize with. Even the first time she used her book to transform, she wasn't scared or filled with uncertainty. It was more like "Oh? So this is something that can actually happen." Stripes understood most magical girls thought their first transformations were a dream of some sort, at least when they were her age. Younger magical girls often had an easier time adjusting to magical life, but most older girls have an idea of how the world is suppose to be, and often reject their new reality because it doesn't mesh with the one they think they know and love. If anything, Stripes found the "normal" behavior of trying to justify it all as a dream to be strange. Who cares if turning into a magical girl is real or not? If it's real, great. If not, why ruin your dream by calling it an illusion? People put way too much emphasis on trying to be correct all the time.
With the girl's shirt in Stripe's mouth, the back of her head was pressed up against her pink nose. It didn't obstruct her breathing, but it was impossible for Stripes to breathe without also being reminded of whatever the girl washed her hair with. Unless she never showered WHICH IS REALLY GROSS OH MY GOD SHE PUT HER MOUTH ON IT! So long as she didn't struggle too much, this should be easy.
Unfortunately, she wanted to know her name. This was unfortunate because people only ask you your name if they want to learn more about you. What was following this question was any number of questions about the magical world, how she came to be, and a slew of other questions that Stripes had answered for countless other magical girls and refused to do again. Because when you give someone information, they start to see you as an asset they can make use of and talk to you more. But this girl had Stripes in checkmate. They had just met, and there was no reason for her to assume that Stripes had her best interests at heart. She hated to admit it, but she almost wished the girl was still swearing her head off. Annoying? yes, but it was the difference between listening to bad music and an estranged family member: Both were annoying, but one you had to listen to if you wanted to ensure your mother/boss didn't get upset.
"Stripes." She replied. Tigers couldn't actually talk, that was more managed with magic and such. Which was fortunate for the girl, as Stripes likely wouldn't be able to talk with her mouth full.
It was not long before Stripes spotted the glow of the grimoire. IT didn't look like a hard location to get to, but Captain Goody-two-shoes was marching herself and her collection of minions in the same direction. Given the way Stripes's power was divided among the number of nearby friendly combatents, she really couldn't think of a magical girl that she synergized worse with. Regardless, she could tell just by the changes in the girl's behavior that the grimoire was likely hers. Stripes should have known better. Who else would ask a one ton killing machine their name but someone eccentric enough to be a magical girl.
"I'm going to set you down soon, so be prepared to run for it." Stripes snorted into her hair. "Save your questions for later, please."
Stripes's last act as a majestic tabby cat was to create eight balls of light that hovered over her back. with a crack, they surged ahead and whistled through the air. Each one struck a different pageless, reducing their heads to black pulp. But after that, her form started to shrink. The future magical girl's feet would start to drag on the ground as Stripes's form shrank. For a brief moment, Stripes was in her base magical girl form, biting onto the back of the girl's shirt, but she promptly let go and adjusted her hat on her head. She wasn't going to be of any help here, in no small thanks to Captain Bad-Despair. That wasn't to say the cluster of other magical girls didn't sour the situation further. The sudden appearance of Ethereal Rose and her dark suitor were particularly troublesome. Anyone who wanted to make small talk while fighting was not someone Stripes could enjoy. Not that it didnt make sense for Rose, as her, uh, thing did most of the heavy lifting. The massive pageless in the distance was a tempting target, but there were enough magical girls present that she didn't need to risk her life for what would be a meager contribution. She couldn't even manifest spells right now.
But none of the events that transpired here really upset Stripes. After doing this for a few years, it became expected. There was no anger or sadness, just pure apathy towards the situation.
"Excuse me, moving to the back." Stripes walked past the magical girls that were rushing towards the monstrosity and the grimoire.
Lilac jumped at the soft and warm touch of Burning Heart's tails along her back, before double taking between Burning Heart and the battlefield. "Ah! Ah, that is, of course. It is good to stand beside you." A smile, not for show, but something more, made itself at home on Lilac's face. To battle alongside another was warm, nostalgic feeling, like she had a team again. The lighthearted playfulness in the midst of even war made her feel like a Magical Girl. No matter the dark and twisted foe, the forces of good and light would prevail. It wasn't even in question, something you had to face with grim determination, but merely hope and optimism the victory a foregone conclusion.
And so Lilac's blade sang and Shimmered, like she had received Goodhope's blessing once again, fighting against the onrushing hordes at Burning Heart's side. Joyeuse took a liking to Burning Heart it seemed, and she would find her own attacks also 'augmented' by colorful displays and a bright spotlight, like Joyeuse was bringing the attention to the two stars of the show while not interfering with the 'pyrotechnics' of Burning Heart's flames.
But even as the Pageless where hurled back from the walls of Lilac's impromptu bastion, this feeling too came to an end. In the momentary lapse of battle, a pale nothing of emotion set itself on Lilac's face which had otherwise maintained positive emotion so far, at least in appearance. ~Of course, we aren't teammates. Just allies of convenience. She'll be gone tomorrow.~ Lilac set her sword hand to heart to steel herself and breathed in and out slowly. ~Getting too excited over common courtesy just exposes how pathetic you are. Just be polite and thank her nicely.~ She told herself.
"Thank you for your aid, truly, you are warrior of grace and skill." Lilac nodded to Burning Heart with a proper facsimile of a smile. Only to be shocked with the appearance of a newer, great and terrible... spinny wheel Pageless?
Once overcoming the surprise, Lilac figured that with her foes now merged into a single entity, all she had to do to be in between them and the civilians was attack. Drawing her sword once more, she gave chase to the animated abomination, quick to leap in to the air and cut asunder any pieces of rubble and detritus launched towards the civilians by its wild wheel as it chased the Grimoire.
Then, as Lumiere held the great Pageless back, Lilac jumped off a block of concrete she had just cut, in a dramatic downwards cleave aimed for its legs. Intended to be a hamstring blow to one of the unarmored ball joints, Lilac hoped she could make it vulnerable while Lumiere delayed its assault. Surely one of the many magical girls here could deal a finishing blow? Lilac didn't quite have a high enough opinion of herself, not anymore at least, to aim for it herself.
For all of the mental torment it had caused Stripes, it was unclear in the end whether Nessie even heard the answer to her question, something seemingly far more alluring to her than the identity of her saviour catching her attention. In fact, it wasn't just her attention that was caught, it seemed in an instant as though the girl's whole mindset was suddenly oriented to the radiantly glowing tome that was now very visible amongst a small forest of vertical steel beams.
It shone with a light that Nessie had never seen before, one that was genuinely beautiful and alluring as much as it was curious and mystical. Perhaps most of all, she felt as though it belonged to her. And it was calling for her.
So taken was she, that she didn't reply to Stripes with anything more than a nod and an affirming mumble to show that she understood. Whatever aura that book was giving off was certainly having a drastic affect on her, completely putting her in the zone. You'd almost swear it was a different person to the utterly confused and terrified girl, who had been at the complete mercy of a wave of Pageless just minutes prior.
As soon as her feet made contact with the earth, she began to sprint like mad, quickly leaving the now-reverted Stripes behind. She'd thank her later. Probably. Helter-skelter she went, bolting past a roster of even more interesting characters who helped to defend her as she went rushing past to reach... it. Whatever it was. That's what she needed to discover. And it really did feel as though she needed to do it.
Not once did she falter in her determined sprint towards her destiny. At least, not until the arrival of something else. Something that bared a similar weight to what she was chasing for, but in a completely different way. The aura this creature, this... thing, gave off was something dark and malicious, as if it was something entirely out of place in its own existence. Something never meant to be.
But here it now stood, as bold as brass, having sent Nessie tumbling to the ground with its dramatic crash-landing to the ground, blending in with the look of the construction site with its mechanical appearance. Despite its imposing nature though, Nessie wasn't going just stop there. She wouldn't, and couldn't, give up. And as the colossal Pageless followed suit, the race was on.
Nessie was closer, but the behemoth of darkness proved to be much faster than its heavy, metal body suggested. It tore through earth, timber and steel like paper, a one-track mind similar to Nessie's leading it towards the book, which shone even brighter now as the two got closer and closer to reaching it.
In the end though, for all the tension the race may have brought on, it ended in a decisive victory for Nessie. One final leap decided her claim on the tome, its dazzling light consuming her before a burst of energy with practically the same force as the Mega-Pageless had landed with practically recreated the landscape of the battlefield once again.
When that piercing light and clouds of dust and debris finally settled though, revealed to all those present was the birth of a new Magical Girl. Nephy's clothes had transformed into an ornate and bespoke outfit that decorated and armoured her body in equal measure. A broomstick in her grasp, and a unique but trademark witch's hat upon her head completed the look, like a crown on a monarch.
"Slow as shit you are, aren't you?" Nessie quipped cheekily to the loser the race, staring boldly up at the Pageless in even less of an unwavering manner than before. Because now, she stood a chance. Now she could fight.
The construction site was the spitting image of wanton chaos but less so by the hungry horde of Pageless and more by the fueling hectic scenery of Magical Girls and one single enemy. Lilac chasing after the giant creature looked almost comical in hindsight, with its spindly legs dancing in place as it shuffled and crawled closer to the Grimoire. But as usual, the denizens of light got in its way and it continued to focus all intents in smashing through Lumière’s shield. Another hit from the first brought more cracks to form over the outer surface and the Pageless’ limb spun with a jacking motion to completely shatter the protective field.
Or it would have, had it not suddenly crumbled backwards with an uneven weight. Lilac’s blade held true and lobbed off the weak ball joint of its underside that sent one leg flying. It dissipated completely before even reaching the ground. A great plume of dust and dirt kicked up as the Pageless fell on itself. It was just this sort of coordination that ultimately cost it the race and soon a shining magical power flowed and ebbed into the very air. A new Magical Girl was born.
Reacting in kind, the Pageless eagerly scrambled up with a renewed hatred. A harsh and mechanical whirr erupted from the creature as Nessie transformed for the first time. Its eyes glowed a harder red and with its remaining legs left, it picked itself up and barreled towards the new Magical Girl. All focus was lost on the others, be it Magical Girl or Captain Goodhope’s spectral crew. Its rage and desire to feed bore down on Nessie and Nessie alone, powerful limbs clawing at the air and drilling towards her with deadly speeds.
Even having lived there for the past two years, Chinami Nadakai found that the city of London had never really managed to grow on her. Frozen her ass off nearly all year round, sure, but never really managed to endear her to winter any more than she'd ever been... which was to say not at all.
You try living your whole life in Texas, where seeing snow was like seeing the tooth fairy, and then moving to a place where the average highlight of the year was 70 degrees at best, and then come back and tell her she was off her rocker for refusing to wear skirts. To say nothing of the loss of her precious pockets, the temperature was already bad enough without all but baring her ass at it, so all those people telling her she was being "unreasonable" or "needed to wear the uniform properly" could one and all "sod off", as the locals would say.
The point of all this being that tonight was especially chilly, certainly enough so that were things not as they were, she'd perhaps be bothered even while transformed, her armor swallowing the cold faster than it caught her body heat. That said, the circumstances were not such.
The flicker of warm candlelight illuminated the area in welcoming yellows and oranges, casting friendly shadows along the walls of the empty back-alley parking lot. Absolutely dominating the center of the parking lot, there stood a great hoop of wood, a table of behemoth proportions, covered with an almost underwhelmingly simple white cloth and lined with somewhere in the range of four-dozen seats... all but one of which was full.
The bustle of chatter and good cheer was at distinct odds with the particularly gloomy night that had quickly fallen around them, as guests supped of a grand feast fit for a King. Venison, pork, beef and all manner of poultry lay side by side with steaming baked breads and platter upon platter of vegetables and fruits. The foods ran the breadth of modern and ancient, and all were prepared to a standard to which no fault could be found. For every seat there was a warm candle and a cup, and what filled that cup was whatever the drinker wished. Between one breath and the next, they might sip wine and orange juice in turn, savoring a mix of flavors that was never meant to be. Though there were no deserts to be found, every bite would satisfy, every flavor be agreeable. No matter who they were, man, woman or child, they would only find placed before them that which would sustain their bodies and hearts. And all would find that even a single bite of the offerings before them would fill their belly till the next mealtime may come. As it happened, to take more than a single bite was simply to dine for the sake of joy and flavor, and yet, none would find themselves able to overeat nor become sickened for trying every last thing they saw.
It was a scene that one might only have found in the halls of the noble, of the wealthy and elite. Atop this table, there lay a truly endless feast for those that chose to dine, no matter their heart or occupation. All were equal at the side of the Round Table.
And the vast majority were homeless.
Magical Girl Camelot -though she much preferred to forget all but the last bit- gently guided a child's straying hand away from where the hilt of her blade met its sheathe, even as she instead lay his fingers upon the hilt instead. Eyes flickering to his mother, who was sitting on the boy's other side, she noted the small smile and nod, shaking her head fondly.
Her sword was not a toy, and even if she could fix anything that might go wrong, it just seemed irresponsible of her to be any less careful, especially since she was the one who typically went out of her way to take seating near children at her feasts. That said...
"Thomas," she addressed the probable 10-year-old, who had quite happily been chatting her up the whole evening. She'd honestly felt guilty to say that she'd only been listening with half an ear, as something had been prodding at her attention for the past small while. It was like she was trying to remember something she'd forgotten, like a word on the tip of her tongue, a vague sense of... something. But it didn't seem quite so important for the time being, and...
She glanced at the wind up timer that had been set upon the table, a beat-up old thing provided by one of her guests that would give them all fair warning of the feast's end. It had been set to go off one to two minutes before the Round Table returned to where it came from.
Seventeen minutes left...
Yeah, she had time. And really, what did it cost her?
"Yuh-huh?" the boy asked guilelessly.
"Would you like to hold Excalibur?" she asked softly, smirking teasingly with a single raised brow.
The size his eyes widened to seemed to indicate an emphatic "yes", even before his head began to imitate a bobble-head. Thomas's hands both reached forward to grab the hilt in full.
"Ahp-ahp-ahp!" Camelot shook her head and pressed a single finger down atop the blade's guard and gripping the sheathe with her other hand from where it was leaned against the Round Table. With her strength, even a single finger was several magnitudes more than was required to keep the weapon safely sheathed. At the boy's look of child-like betrayal, she shook her head and said consolingly, "Don't worry, I wasn't messing with you. You're just going a little fast, is all." Gently tugging the hilt away from his grip, she motioned a little twirl with her free hand. "Come on, turn about. Let's do this properly." Standing from her seat, she smiled fondly, as the kid scrambled to turn his own chair around to sit facing her.
Taking a knee before the boy, Camelot held the sheathed blade out gingerly, the flat lain across her palms. "Now then," she gave Thomas stern but not harsh look, to which he squirmed and straightened up.
Good kid.
"Excalibur is not a toy. It's a real sword, dangerous, but I use it to fight evil all the time. It could hurt people, but I'm careful to make sure I don't hurt them or myself, only bad guys. You got me?" He nodded. "Also, real swords like these are a little bit heavy, but I'm pretty strong, which makes it easy to be careful. Tell me, Thomas, if I let you draw this blade, can I trust you to be strong and careful too? Tell me honestly." She stared him in the eyes, allowing her gaze to soften when he squirmed but straightened his back and nodded firmly.
"Yes, Miss Camelot," the kid said, balling his hands. "I won't drop it."
Not exactly what she meant, but sure, she'd take it.
Shaking her head lightly with a smile, Camelot held out the hilt, her own hands clasping the ends of the sheathe. As Thomas took hold of the hilt and slowly began to pull. Immediately, the parking lot was awash with golden light, bright enough to sear the retinas, yet somehow perfectly harmless to all present, as it banished every shadow about them to nothingness. In the corner of her vision, Camelot noted the turning of heads, some craned in astonished interest, others in almost smug recognition; for certainly, it was not the first time many here had seen her blade. Her focus was more on making sure the kid didn't cut himself. "There we go..." she murmured, slowly drawing back the sheathe in unison with his pull. "Easy does it, flat of the blade facing up... Almost got it... Just about there... Watch out for the weight once you've got it out fully... And there we go."
The boy looked absolutely star-struck, holding the sword up high. The golden hilt glittered, a pair of chimeras climbing across its form with their mouths ending at either side of the guard. From those mouths, a baleful fire glowed, like throats filled with dragon-fire. The blade itself shone with a golden light fit to challenge the sun, and ancient words were engraved upon either side near the hilt.
Reaching over, Camelot gently turned the blade in the boy's hands. "Take me up... and Cast me away; that's what it says." She hummed aloud. "Story of Excalibur in a nutshell." At the kid's barely vocalized "woah" of awe, she shook her head with a smirk. "So, kid, how's it feel to be holding the strongest sword in the world?"
"Hah! She would say that!" declared cheerily one bearded homeless man, wearing all too many layers.
"Makes sense, King Arthur and all," shrugged one man in a suit. Not all her guests were homeless, just most of them. This relatively young lad in question had been walking home, smelled the food and investigated. Just like anyone else who approached the Round Table, Camelot was more than happy to welcome them to the feast. It cost her nothing, and it brought the regular citizenry more in touch with the downtrodden and misfortunate.
Snorting aloud, Camelot shook her head and gently slipped Excalibur from the boy's grasp. "Not Arthur. Successor at best, and only if I'm feeling particularly delusional," she chuffed in good humored denial.
"'Successor at best', she says, while helping us more than the actual damned government."
"So, like Mordred with tits?" Someone tossed a shoe at the offender.
"I'll drink to that."
"Oi, mind the kids!"
"I mean, if we're talking about powerful swords, what about the Kusanagi?"
"Hah! Try Mjonir!"
"That's a hammer, dumbass."
"Semantics!"
"'Semantics' my bleeding arse!"
And like that, the moment was gone.
As several people squabbled without real heat, Camelot rolled her eyes in good humor at the jeers, sheathing Excalibur, as she returned to her seat, shaking her head with a small smile. This... This was nice.
Honestly, it never got old for her. She never got tired of the sight of people truly brought together, happy and hearty. They say an army marches on their stomach; well, so too does a nation and people as a whole. At the end of the day, if you wanted to truly help people, to make their lives better, simply ensure that they could have full bellies. The homeless. The poor. Even just someone having a bad day. A good meal and good company wouldn't solve all problems, but in her experience these past two years, they tended to solve most of them.
From a pure economic standpoint, take away the need to buy food, and that money could finally afford to be invested into endeavors that would help these people dig themselves out of their rut; for these people who had all but nothing, even a single pence saved was everything. And companionship? Gathering any who wished without question or bias to sit and feast tended to bring people together as companions in a way nothing else could. The more fortunate among their number would grow to understand these people, grow aware -or rather, be reminded- of their existence, and many would -and had- gone on to befriend and find job opportunities for their misfortunate fellows.
This ability to help, to save people in the long term, not just in the short. It was something Camelot couldn't recall ever seeing in her fellow Magical Girls, nor even a particular widespread desire to actually use their powers for anything other than combatting Pageless and healing the immediate victims. Perhaps that was somewhat unfair of her, considering that she had the Round Table at her beck and call, but Camelot couldn't help but look at just about any superhero comic and firm her resolve.
Even if their powers were often solely combat based, all Magical Girls got enhanced strength, speed and endurance to some degree. Burning buildings. Muggers. Hell, even just a car wreck that needed the doors pried off. In extreme and rare cases, the ability to jump so high and fast could get one of them to a potential suicide victim to hopefully talk them down... and catch them if not. These powers could be used to help so many more people than just Pageless victims, so who was she to hold back?
But she had something more. She had the Round Table, and the weight of responsibility it brought was heady. Camelot had never managed to find a limit to the food it could produce, never found a limit to the number of people it could seat. Granted, it wasn't like she was going around asking football stadiums for help testing her powers, but that was beside the point. Every seat she failed to fill was food that wasn't being eaten and a belly not being filled. She had the ability to feed her the people, and every day she was busy or couldn't be bothered was a day they might go hungry.
Unacceptable.
More than that... Through her careless kindness, she had accidentally made herself a pillar, someone so many of these people relied on to even get through the day, relied upon to feed themselves and their kids. If she just stopped showing up, how much would that hurt them? How much would that harm their recovery efforts? No, she couldn't -wouldn't- do that. Admittedly, she'd made her bed, but it was one she was more than happy to lay in. She would not betray her these people's trust. Even if some of them were rich. Even if some of them were hypocrites, possibly criminals, or just plain taking advantage of the situation, she would welcome them so long as they brought only peace to her table and people.
Looking around at the people who dined with her as equals, Camelot smiled. This... This was what it was all about.
A cold chill, like death breathing down her neck ran up her spine.
Sheathed sword clutched in hand, the armored Magical Girl was on her feet in an instant, her chair screeching away, before dissipating into motes of light. Camelot paid no mind to her spot at the table disappearing again, nor to the cries of surprise and anxious questions.
She could see it now, feel it in the air in truth, what had been curdling her gut all evening.
The shadows grew longer, grew darker, more akin to liquid ink than any absence of light. The cold in the air... the reason she could feel it so keenly was almost certainly the doing of fell magics, of the congealing dark power of grudges and resentment, of tales new and old, told and untold... hungry for more... for better than they had.
Pageless.
Several civilians had stood. A couple even looked as though they might come to her or leave. Camelot's brows furrowed, as she looked upon the bright and frightened eyes around her... eyes that weren't dulled by dark lures she so often saw... and chanced upon an epiphany. "Stay where you are. Return to your seats, and do not leave them," she commanded firmly, outstretching an arm, her tone entirely different from the one she had worn before. "They are coming here, the monsters that I was blessed with this power to fight." Several more began to stand. Unacceptable! "Running will not save you!" she bellowed, freezing them in place, as she vaulted over the Round Table in a casual hop, striding to the center of the ring and emplacing her sheath's tip firmly on the ground.
"The magic of my kind, the hope we spread, its very presence holds back the darkness! The very fact that I was surprised at all by their approach means that the Round Table is protecting you! And not just the Round Table!" She turned a circle, gesturing to all the people as one. "All of you! You are the reason! With your hope, trust and comradery, you have held back the darkness from stealing away your minds! Have courage! Abandon fear and despair! Abandon selfishness and worry! If you run, I will be spread too thin, unable to protect your bodies from their claws, nor your minds from their wicked magics! But if you stay..." Her right hand clenched tightly, the metal creaking loudly in the night. "You have my Oath as a Knight, as the one you have graciously chosen to trust to provide time and again: not a one of you shall shed a single drop of blood."
A lofty promise, but her words seemed to get through to them. Those that had stood retook their seats, and those that seemed panicked had settled down to mere jitters. There was a certain amount of wary optimism, some restrained incredulity and disbelief from those that had yet to brush with the supernatural darkness that plagued London as of late, but it seemed as if she had their cooperation for the time being.
The candlelight flickered ominously, as though some force was attempting to snuff it through pure disdain.
"They are here."
The people went silent, many of them glancing around warily at the shadows leaking from alleys and shrouding rooftops, as her people attempted to catch a glimpse of the threat. Camelot, meanwhile, stood still and waiting, sheath planted against the ground and arms atop the blade's hilt.
She could feel what the people likely could only comprehend as a gut feeling, the seething darkness infusing every shadow. She could see the warbling inhuman shapes creeping in every corner, watching... waiting. Turning her head slowly to either side, she could see dozens gathering here, lured by the naked display of hope and broken but healing lives. They were playing a game of chicken with her, attempting to goad her into acting first, upon which the remainder would strike from whatever direction she chose to abandon. Even so, she knew their patience was not unlimited; for the Pageless had been growing ever fiercer, ever more feral and almost desperate of late, almost like starving animals.
Even now, that patience only extended so far. She could see the people beginning to lose their nerve, eyes beginning to dart around more frantically, as dark magic tugged at their vulnerable hearts. If they could not come to their prey, then the Pageless would make their prey come to them. The Round Table was not intended to be used in a protective manner. It was only by its nature and the charisma of Camelot herself that the worst was staved away, and even that could only do so much in the face of the blatantly supernatural. She was no Captain Goodheart. In the end, where it mattered, she could only attack and defend.
So, it was time to stop playing the enemy's game.
She spoke, addressing all who were present. "You have heard its tale, shrouded in mystery..." The people seemed to jolt at her voice, as many focused on her instead of the negative emotions welling inside them. "You have heard its promise, an Oath of Victory..." Camelot shifted her Scabbard to one hand and secured it to her hip, the other taking hold of her blade's hilt. "The blade that shall pierce, should its aim be sure." Her eyes alighted on a group of shadows more sizable than the rest, as she idly catalogued with her more mystical senses the approximate number of foes. "And it's name is..."
Mana curled in her gut and funneled into her blade, which almost seemed to vibrate in its sheath from the unreleased pressure, as Camelot fed it a sixth, then a fifth, then a fourth, and then a third of her full reserves, far more than required to activate its ability.
"EX-"
The Pageless seemed to have instinctively comprehended that their plan was about to fall through, and Camelot could see many beginning to preemptively lunge-
"-CALIBER!"
If unsheathing her blade normally was like a mere flashbang, then unsheathing it now was a nuke directed towards the eyes, unsubtle, unforgiving and oh so very effective. Pageless screamed, as the force of the light seethed into every corner and crevice, a golden wave simply erasing the very concept of darkness from the parking lot and beyond, so strong that its mere reflection off the alley walls was enough to illuminate streets entire blocks away. Blinded monsters collapsed, stumbled and howled in obvious agony, many clawing uselessly at the glowing crimson gashes that passed for their eyes. Perhaps more damaging to the Pageless, however, was the absolute surge of hope and awe that overtook her people, as doubt and fear were made fleeting memories in an instant.
Camelot was not idle.
Her feet left divots in the ground, as she accelerated, hurtling over the Round Table in a whirling dervish of motion, Excalibur leaving a trail of light akin to sunspots in the vision of all who saw it, as her blade arced around, beheading half a dozen monsters in a single swing.
Excalibur's light dimmed somewhat, but the light was still yet to return to normal. It was only natural. In truth, no matter how much mana she pumped into the blade, it would only ever expend a set amount for its ability. In that case, it stood to reason that one could store multiple uses if they were so inclined. Granted, such stored energy dissipated with her transformation, so she was unable to simply build up a reservoir on the daily. That would be too easy, clearly. And also, it still didn't change the fact that she had no control over when the energy would be expended other than the initial point of contact.
Excalibur would sever all that stood before it in a single slash, but what defined a "single slash" could be frustratingly mutable. Most of the time, speed seemed to be the key, but that too was unreliable. In truth, it more often came down to luck and instinct. Instinct that she had to resist. Every martial form tended to be about momentum and chambering smoothly into the next strike, but the act of chambering itself seemed to declare the end of what came before it. Therefore, to chamber or otherwise attack was to declare the end of Excalibur's slash.
Her armored foot impacted the chest of a Pageless, and she could feel something giving inside, before it was catapulted backwards hard enough take out the legs of several of its fellows. Her fist arced behind her in a backfist, pasting another Pageless head, before she launched forward again, hurtling forward in a low run towards the Pageless stubbornly stumbling towards the Round Table.
While blinded, they were far clumsier, but that hardly removed their supernatural sense for stories and the people that carried them, nor their desperate hunger. To fight her was death. To feed was to satisfy themselves at least for a moment and then also die. One of these two options was clearly superior to the other. And running? As far as she knew, they'd never heard of it.
Float like a butterfly; sting like a bee.
True to thought, Camelot hurled herself upside down through the air just above the table's surface, whizzing past the occupants at speeds that made her nothing less than a blur. She barely payed attention to Excalibur's light falling back down to a dull roar of existence, as she whipped it through half a dozen more foes, every swing and stab a death blow aimed for the neck and nothing less, no matter what other limbs tried and failed to interrupt her blade's progress. She cared not for the loss of her blade's strength. The enchantment had merely been a means to an end, the end, of course, being the light.
Her free left hand shot downwards, powerful fingers snagging a momentary vice-grip of the enchanted wood of the Round Table's outer edge. It did not dissipate her momentum, but that was hardly the intent, merely to reorient herself upwards. Now facing the table, she continued to hurtle backwards, still propelled by her original leap, as her blade bisected a Pageless merely from being held to the side.
Her feet, curled up behind her as they were, impacted brick, and Camelot wasted no time launching herself into motion -the wall behind her crumbling from the combined force of her impact and kickoff- towards the other half of the table that was currently under siege by a full dozen and half Pageless, several currently in leaping freefall from the rooftops. Internally, she winced at the property damage, but outwardly, she had far more important things to focus on. Though worth avoiding in general to not hurt others financially, property damage was a small price to pay for saving lives.
Her left arm outstretched, snapping hold of a Pageless by the neck, as she passed by, Excalibur flickered through two ground-bound and one midair Pageless. Bleeding momentum from the extra weight on her left side, Camelot's right foot came down like a power-driver through a Pageless head and into the pavement, halting her movement cold. Twisting on her heel, her left arm lightly tossed up its captured Pageless -as if preparing to spike a tennis ball, as Excalibur bisected another victim. The tossed Pageless was caught by the leg, and Camelot was in motion once more, hurling the screaming devil underhanded at one of its midair brethren with deadly force.
Ducking under a clawed hand the size of her head, Camelot grabbed hold of its owner's leg and kicked off the ground with a twist of her hips, wielding both Excalibur and her screaming makeshift weapon's large claws against its allies, the captured Pageless whirled and flung around her so hard that the sheer force kept its arms unwillingly outstretched. The wonderful thing about the Pageless was that it had effectively twice the range of Excalibur, allowing her to swat another two airborne Pageless down. Or rather, to pass their fellow's claws through them at great speed, leaving them to fall in pieces. In the meantime, Excalibur added another four to its personal tally.
She released her reluctant weapon with a fair parting, giving it the same as its comrade and slinging it with deadly force into the last of the airborne Pageless. The remaining four Pageless had gotten close to her people, too close. Even with them blinded, clumsy and slow, the Round Table was huge, and she could only be so many places at once. Even as she kicked off the ground, pavement crumbling from the steel-clad toes digging into it, she knew she physically couldn't make it.
Not one drop of blood.
As her left fist burrowed into the first of the four's skull and the toes of her right leg into the second, her right arm rose, Excalibur arcing up, before she hurled it like a tomahawk at the furthest Pageless, the glowing blade entering one shoulder and exiting the opposite hip, before imbedding itself into the ground with a crack, chips of pavement flying everywhere.
Throwing my sword-
Ser Kay would have had my ass for that.
The final Pageless lunged for its victim, a child- Thomas.
Notonmyfuckingwatch!
Her right hand lunged for her hip, ripping her sheathe free with a pop-snap of stressed straps being unwoven. If the problem was range, then why not use something just as long as the blade she'd lost?
The Scabbard's steel-braced top side ripped across the Pageless' eyes with a sharp crack of something in the story-eater's skull, sending the monster stumbling backwards with a screech, before Camelot's fist met its face. Whirling around, the magical Knight's eyes met...
Nothing.
Heart pounding in her chest, Camelot swallowed in barely concealed relief at the sight of nothing left to fight, as black ichor smoked and dissipated all over the parking lot. Letting out a slow breath, she turned and quickly strode over to Excalibur, sheathing the blade with whisper and plunging the area back into warm candlelight. Checking the straps of her Scabbard, they luckily didn't seem to have been broken by her desperation maneuver, but that was probably only because she'd been loose in securing them before the fight to begin with. Sure, the straps would repair once she retransformed, but it was something of the principle of the matter. And she had no intention of returning to her mundane form so soon.
Stretching out her mystical senses, she frowned at the lingering seething darkness on the horizon. It was strong, very much so, the feeling like that of something that might even give her issues... And if it could inconvenience her, then other Magical Girls... It seemed what she had fought were merely dregs. If she didn't know better, she might even have called them a distraction, but Pageless had never proven themselves to be anything so cunning prior in her experience. More likely, it was as she had assumed from the start, that her feast was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Securing the Scabbard to her waist once more -this time properly, she turned to her people and smiled. Stuttered applause and whoops broke out among them, several even standing up or hugging each-other.
Camelot allowed the barrage of words and questions to wash over her, as she turned to one of homeless she knew best, a black man named Jonathan with salt and pepper hair and a rarely missing smile that was down a few teeth; he was one of the most "in charge" individuals among the homeless she regularly met, who had seen her magic time and again and helped to ease newcomers into acceptance of what was right in front of their eyes. "I must go," she said, briefly turning her gaze back towards the feeling of roiling darkness. "There is a much greater evil to face, and its presence is muddling my senses almost as badly as the Round Table." At Jonathan's nod, she addressed the people at large. "The monsters here are vanquished, but I must attend to the disposal of worse!" At the murmurs of discontent, she rose both hands placatingly. "Did I not give you my word before? Did I not keep it? You are safe and whole, but right now, others are in just as much need as you were moments ago! Would you deny my aid to them?!"
At the shouts of denial and several shamefaced expressions, Camelot nodded and turned away, before glancing over her shoulder. "The Round Table shall remain even without my presence." She smiled. "Feast to your hearts' content and make merry! You have survived the worst of the night!" And with that, naught more need be said. She was their protector, but not their keeper. There was only so far she could -or would- be willing to go to reassure them. Fear was one thing. Selfishness was another, especially in the face of her own generosity.
She leapt upwards almost daintily, hands catching the edge of a rooftop, as she hauled herself up and set to the tried and true Magical Girl travel method: roof hopping.
(/._./)
The battle -and it most definitely was such- was all too far away, and Camelot could feel something coming, something big. Now that she was closer, the darkness was no longer quite so muddling to her senses, but in large part, that seemed to be because it was -for lack of a better word- compressing. It was a feeling she recognized, a once rare phenomenon that had become all too common in these days of overhyped aggressive Pageless.
A "boss" Pageless. Sure there was probably a better -proper- word for it, but Camelot thought the video game term to be relatively apt. In short, the beasties fused themselves together, often absorbing some element of the environment in turn to use as a "skeleton" for the change, and the result was usually devastatingly effective. It was, in short, something akin to a defense mechanism as far as she could tell, a strange skill that allowed the Pageless to gain the strength they needed to overcome what they couldn't as relative canon fodder.
In her experience, "boss" Pageless mostly showed up only when the Pageless actually somehow felt threatened, were numerous enough, and not being killed fast enough, which was -under ideal circumstances- not a common occurrence. Pageless seemed to find strength in numbers, so it tracked that the main thing they considered a threat was great numbers of opponents. In other words...
Camelot deadpanned at the far-distant sight of explosions, laser beams and lots of fire.
Someone had decided to throw way too many Magical Girls at whatever the hell this was.
Well, to be fair, it felt pretty damned threatening. If the Grand Director had perhaps seen the "boss" Pageless as an inevitably, then why not throw everything and the kitchen sink at it? In all honestly, considering that it looked like she'd sent fucking Lumiere at the problem and that it still wasn't solved yet, why hadn't the Director called in her too? Not that Camelot was exactly eager to attend to the possible precognitive's every whim, but thus far, she'd never really been sent anywhere she wasn't needed in some capacity. That understanding in mind, the only reason she wasn't hailed was likely that the Director knew damn well that she'd have shown up anyway, and if she'd been called away early, she likely wouldn't have been able to protect the people at the Round Table.
Rubbing her temples in frustration, Camelot groaned aloud and grit her teeth. She could feel the crescendo of the darkness now; at this very moment, the Pageless were making their move. And now that their presence was less obnoxious, she could feel why.
A new Grimoire, a calling Grimoire, which meant that a brand spanking new, inexperienced Magical Girl was about to be born... right in front of the apex of Pageless-kind.
What even was today?
She wasn't going to make it in time. For all her speed, she'd still be there too slow. But... No, that didn't mean she couldn't do anything. By this point, she was close enough that... Yes, that could work. She'd only have a single shot, but it was better than nothing. Camelot turned on her heel and bounded towards the highest thing in the area that was in range of the conflict.
Big Ben.
Steel-clad feet pounding across roof tiles in great bounds, nearly every step alighting upon a new building, Magical Girl Camelot launched herself toward the magnificently-crafted clocktower. Any thoughts on the landmark's splendor were an afterthought, however, as it was hardly the first time Camelot had scaled the tower simply because she could. Such familiarity with its form served her well, as she managed her ascension in a matter of seconds.
Dark clouds billowing overheads and winds whipping through her hair, Camelot clung with her left hand to the peak of the clocktower and narrowed her eyes at the distant conflict, her right hand pinning as much of her golden locks back from her field of vision as possible. The Pageless had completed their transformation during her ascent, and it was going about as badly for the Magical Girls as Camelot had expected. Despite them having the likes of -from what she could tell- Captain Goodhope, fucking Dynasty Queen and her bullshit staff, and even Ethereal Rose and her eldritch bae, they still didn't exactly look like they were winning. Oh, and then there was her fellow King Lilac Shimmer fighting alongside someone she didn't recognize, who appeared to be setting everything on fire... Wonderful.
Even Lumiere seemed unable to stall the titanic monstrosity's inexorable advance, which was strange, because she really should have been blasting it to pieces from afar instead. The angelic Magical Girl tended to be nicely efficient like that, but in this case she was playing defense... for what? The Grimoire? Surely, she could have grabbed it by... now.
Camelot groaned at the distinctive figure of "Stripes" almost casually walking in the exact opposite direction of the nonsense that was currently happening, which was... Okay, that was actually understandable if it was Stripes. Like, sometimes the Grimoire power lottery just really had a personal hate-boner for you. Giving a Magical Girl -individuals that all but run on friendship- a power that was practically antithetical to the very concept of teamwork? Yeah, totally fair. Super balanced.
That said, there were still-
A veritable bomb of magical energy interrupted that train of thought and refocused her attention on the situation at hand, as she inwardly chastised herself. It was almost like an inversion of what had happened with the Pageless -with a similar amount of oomph behind it to boot, kicking up a great cloud of dust in unison with the appearance of a piercing light.
A new Magical Girl had been born.
As the dust cleared in unison with the titanic Pageless' mad charge, and the brand spanking newbie confidently faced off with something that was so obviously way out of her league it wasn't even funny, Camelot found herself taken aback. Certainly, there was for many Magical Girls an almost dream-like sense to their first transformation, but then... this new one must have some fairly exciting dreams if she's this far divorced from her survival instincts.
With a sense of renewed urgency, Camelot reached for Excalibur once more.
Taking hold of the hilt, she firmed her shoulders and drew the legendary sword forth with purpose. Pumping mana into the blade, she fed it just enough to fuel the effect and raised it towards a once darkened London sky, where now there bloomed a second sun on Earth above the great Big Ben.
"You have heard its tale, shrouded in mystery...!"
She didn't actually need the words, didn't need the chant.
"You have heard its promise, an Oath of Victory...!"
But there was something to it, a concept in martial arts called the "Kai" by the Japanese.
"The blade that shall pierce, should its aim be sure!"
It was a real effect, wherein one that shouted with each attack would subconsciously put more power into the blows.
"And it's name is...!"
In other words, when Magical Girls called out their attacks in a cheesy manner, that wasn't just ham...
"EX-"
It was literally more effective.
"-CALIBUR!!!"
For the second time today, she threw.
(/._./)
High above and far away from the construction site, above London itself, there was light, a light fit to banish the very night itself, an existence that no creature of darkness could help but pay hateful heed, even if only for an all too critical moment. Unfortunately, at such a distance, even such a light as this could not hope to be more than an irritant... but that is all it needed to be.
There was a murmured chant, carried by the wind and magic as if lifted to everywhere the light fell. For some, it was new, an omen of something to come, and to others, it was all too familiar. As the Pageless shook off what little unease the uselessly distant light might have caused and refocused itself on the feast at hand, the chant reached its crescendo.
Fury and blackness seemingly defying the light and its numerical disadvantage in turn, the Pageless lunged all too quickly at Nessie with a spiked pounder that transitioned into an absolutely wicked claw that-
Was struck by what might as well have been the fist of God, as the sun in the sky descended into the construction yard with a rumble like thunder and a popping thump of displaced air. A streak of golden light impacted the Pageless' titanic claw, sending the limb crashing to the ground, as the monstrosity's entire body reeled back with a rattle and scream of drills.
No, on second glance... As the fresh cloud of billowing dust and dirt cleared, it was clear to see that only the outer side of the claw had fallen, nearly the entire outer half of the weaponized forearm severed in the strike. The massive spike that tipped the pounder was cracked, yet still apparently as dangerous as ever, but the claw itself was now effectively defunct, save for how the remaining half might be used as a spiked blade.
And even as the Pageless rattled and howled its absolute fury, its aura seething with indignation, wrath and hunger, the perpetrator continued to all but burn like the midday sun, a longsword with a gold stylized hilt, currently buried in the earth halfway to the hilt and now casting the battlefield in shades of realized glory.
The blow was struck, and the enemy finally unbalanced in truth -if even for a moment.
If there were any time for the gathered allies of justice, both new and old, to finally gain the upper hand...
Despite Wilhemina's request, Ethereal Rose kept on speaking. At least the good captain did manage to get her name, but most of the conversation just breezed through her skull as though it were a wind. She needed to watch out for her teammates, she needed to keep track of her sailors, but at least the swarm of Pageless around her... stopped advancing? And there was a hand on her shoulder that she did not immediately connect with Ethereal Rose standing beside her for better or worse. Regardless, all these concerns vanished the next second when an absolutely gargantuan Pageless formed from the swarm, barelling through the construction site without regard.
On the one hand, it headed for the Grimoire, causing it to have more and more impact Goodhope's senses. On the other hand, it headed for the grimoire! It would rip the story apart if it got close and that, she could not allow.
Throwing her caution to the wind, she withdrew some of her blessing from the fox maiden and Lilac, pouring it into the link towards Lumiére in an effort to help her stop the creature. Even then, it seemed that its power would overwhelm her senior at any moment and there was little to lose, so she called the rest of her crew into existence. Her core of magic throbbed in response, the overwhelming strain becoming evident on her even as she ordered her loyal sailors to aim their muskets at the gigantic creature and buy time even if they had to do so with their lives.
Blessed they be, her loyal comrades obeyed. Sharp cracks of gunshots rung in the air, a lucky few engraving shallow wounds into the titanic Pageless. The team's efforts were wearing it down iota by iota, with Lilac managing to wound the creature before it broke into a mad frenzy, completely disregarding all threats before it and focusing on... a new magical girl?
And within seconds, a massive explosion of light and magic that seemed to consume all. Wilhelmina had never seen something like that: one moment, she had been contemplating how to help her newly ascended comrade and the other, a sphere of light slammed into the very claw it had raised to eliminate Nessie. The sheer force of the impact caused dust to swirl and winds to sweep, Goodhope's long hair fluttering with it as it cleared the site. And more crucially, all things combined gave an opportunity for all present.
Captain Goodhope took a deep breath. Her eyes closed. Her magic swelled. When she opened her gaze-
It shone with the very same golden radiance that she had seen a moment before.
Lilac Shimmer, Lumiére and Burning Heart felt a distinct thrum through their blessed link to Captain Goodhope. The magic connected to them swelled, opening its channels so as to accommodate a veritable torrent, no, a tidal wave of power to flow. Magic along with luck threw itself into the fray, a feeling akin to dozens of dozens of sailors standing their ground against a terrible storm settling on the shoulders of her comrades. For they were safe under Goodhope's protection, for they could accomplish anything by her side, for they were her beloved friends helping her through thick and thin. And Wilhelmina would do her all for them.
It strained her, of course. That much was evident as she locked her hands in prayer, fingers closing on another with a force that caused them to whiten and pale. Even her sailors wavered for a moment before they redoubled their efforts with their muskets and started to pepper the monstrous creation with their projectiles, both wounding and disrupting it at crucial moments. Their grit teeth reflected their effort and that of their captain to turn back the darkness.
Perhaps unsurprisingly for someone who had said they needed to focus, Captain Goodhope pretty much ignored Olivia’s continued ramblings. Incidentally, the maritime maiden wasn’t the only Magical Girl to respond to Olivia’s greeting, as Lumiere also addressed the azure-clad beauty. However, in a somewhat ironic twist, Olivia herself was unable to hear the angelic girl’s words, as they were drowned out by the clamorous cacophony of the surrounding battle. A battle that now seemed to have reached a pivotal stage.
Olivia gave voice to a sharp gasp as a truly enormous Pageless made its appearance, but contrary to what one might think, it was not a gasp of fear, but delight. Indeed, while the other Pageless had been cute, this new arrival was positively adorable! Olivia simply loved its spiked wheel, the crossbow-cannon-thing at the end of its arm, and the aesthetically pleasing asymmetry of its three spindly legs. Then there was the way its black orb of a head, with its glowing, almost sad eyes, fit so snugly into the dramatically upturned “collar” of its “neck”. And let’s not even get started on its menacing, spiked crown-thing… In fact, the elegant maiden was so enthralled by the sight of the twisted construct that she almost didn’t hear Lumiere’s urgent call to destroy it. Indeed, the angelic maiden’s hastily conjured barrier was even now being chipped away at by the monstrosity’s powerful blows, while the the other Magical Girls raced to her aid.
“Very well…” Olivia sighed, her lovely visage momentarily marred by a despondent frown as she watched her fellow Magical Girls assault the towering creature. One managed to slice off a leg, while Captain Goodhope herself conjured even more of her ghostly crew, their spectral muskets peppering the monstrosity with enchanted gunshot. “Xolys, darling,” Olivia called to her consort. “Would you please be so kind as to assist them?”
Of course, dearest, the eldritch horror replied, giving a rough approximation of a respectful nod.
However, before the Master of Xhar’doth could take even a single action, the construction site was rent by a massive expulsion of mystic power. Even a relative novice like Olivia knew there could only be one explanation for such an occurrence: the Grimoire had been found, and a new Magical Girl had been born.
“Oh wow…” Olivia marveled aloud as the dust cleared, and she was able to catch her first glimpse of the latest addition to their ranks. “She looks like a witch! I wonder what her powers are like?” she wondered, her features taking on a thoughtful, yet still excited expression. “Maybe hexes? Or perhaps potion brewing?” Whatever they were, the new girl would need to employ all of them if she hoped to survive the massive Pageless looming over her, poised to strike. Unless, of course, she received a little help…
As it transpired, that help would come not from the dark and imposing form of Thyerg’Xolys, but rather a blindingly bright missile, one whose glorious radiance made the sun itself seem to pale in comparison. Like a blazing comet, it shot down from the heavens to strike the gargantuan Pageless’s raised appendage. Once again, there was a massive burst of power, and in its wake, the source of the radiant attack was revealed to be… A sword?
Someone had thrown a sword? Olivia’s mind raced with questions. Where had the still-glowing blade come from? Who had thrown it? Were they now without a weapon of their own, and thus utterly defenseless against any other Pageless that might still remain? Would they be her friend? And what horrendous damage had their weapon’s cataclysmic arrival inflicted upon the massive Pageless? Unfortunately, the answer to this last, and most pressing question soon turned out to be “not nearly as much as she had initially imagined”. Yes, one prong (claw?) of the crossbow-thing (or was it perhaps a pile driver-thing?) at the end of the Pageless’s appendage had been sliced off, but, although a little battered, the rest of the weapon was still very much intact and ready to be employed against the newborn Magical Girl.
And that’s where Xolys stepped in.
Having finally gotten close enough to the colossal Pageless, the eldritch horror opened his tentacled, lamprey-like maw and unleashed a blast of otherworldly power. It was a rare occurrence for the Master of Xhar’doth to face a foe that rivaled himself in size. Normally, he could destroy any opponent in just a single shot, but in this case, he would have to limit himself to one aspect of the gargantuan gestalt. Naturally, he chose what remained of the crossbow-pile-driver-thing. The space between the two imposing monstrosities seemed to twist and warp as a whirlwind of deep blue, ethereal lightning and flame spewed forth. Crashing against the beweaponed appendage with all the force of a pressure hose, the mind-numbing torrent of unreality swiftly began transmuting and reassembling it in a mad, kaleidoscopic frenzy. Flowers of luminous crystal seemed to blossom, before shifting into masses of writhing, slime-covered tentacles, followed by clusters of bulbous, pulsating boils and excessively veined, unblinking eyes, from which poured streams of prismatic, alien blood. After what seemed like an eternity to those who had the misfortune of watching, but was actually only a few seconds, the entire, rapidly shifting mass exploded in a sickly, wet, and crunchy sounding detonation, leaving only a handful of writhing, worm-like tendrils to fall to the ground before swiftly dissolving into viscous, black smoke.
“Ooohh~! So pretty~!” Olivia cooed, her eyes taking on a very dreamy look as she clasped her hands over her chest. “Isn’t he just the greatest~?!” she inquired of Goodhope, blissfully oblivious to the fact that the maritime maiden was concentrating so intensely that her eyes were squeezed shut and her tightly clasped, trembling hands had begun to take on a rather concerning pallor. “Oh, but don’t worry!” the azure beauty hastened to add. “I think all your ghost sailors are pretty amazing, too! Oh, goodness!” she gasped as she finally turned her focus towards something other than Xolys. “There are so many of them now! They’re like a little army!” she added with a giggle, which abruptly stopped as a thought occurred to her. “So, um, if you’re a captain, does that mean you have a ship, too? Does it fly?! It probably doesn’t, because if it did, you could have it show up now and blast that impressively-sized Pageless with its cannons! I imagine that would be quite the sight to see! Oh, but maybe it can fly, but it just requires too much mana? You know, you look a little unwell,” the babbling beauty observed with a slight frown. “Are you feeling all right?”
"Nngh...!" The white-clad Seraph winced as the Titanic Pageless relentlessly slammed its jackhammer arm against her force field, all in its singular purpose to ransack the spawning Grimoire. With each forceful strike, the barrier cracked like a stained glass window designed by a demented artist. At this point, it would merely take another swing to completely shatter the shield, the shield that Lumiere put all of her effort to maintain, this meant a huge chunk of her mana reservoir.
"..." Lumiere stared with one closed eye as she braced for the final blow that'd crumble her barrier, but it never came... for Lilac's Joyeuse struck at one of its legs, lobbing it off as the monster tripped, unbalanced. This allowed Lumiere to disengage as her wings returned to settle behind her, exhausted but still not completely out of the fight, she merely watched as the limp Pageless attempted to chase after the Grimoire once more, but it was too late for the Chosen Bearer had found it first.
An explosion of light filled the abandoned construction site, warm to the forces of good and blinding to their sworn enemies. Lumiere smiled solemnly as she bathed in the glow, yes, this was an experience she could never get tired of, another guardian had been born into the world to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.
Just as she opened her blue eyes, a meteoric projectile made its dynamic entrance as golden light streaked behind it, all but smashing at one of the Pageless' forelimbs, destroying a part of it. One look at the sword embedded in the concrete was enough for her to identify the mythical sword and its owner. "Excalibur..." One wondered why a Grimoire so closely related to Merlin's own could fall into the hands of a person so skeptical of the Wizard, but experience had showed her that Grimoires sometime chose the unlikeliest of candidates. Who was she to question God's judgment?
The Pageless was wounded, but not completely crippled, good. However, it might not be so true after Ethereal Rose's tentacled lover spewed its eldritch bile against the titan. Had Lumiered realized this sooner, she might have deigned to warn Olivia against this course of action, but would it even matter? Would the girl even listen? She knew that Olivia wasn't exactly sane, befitting an Alter. A surge of frustrated annoyance rose up in the Seraph as she realized that she might have overestimated the Pageless' endurance, she hoped that it could last longer than this, just for a few more minutes at the very least.
But... why?
Camelot might have wondered just why Lumiere didn't unite all eight wings into a singular cannon of divine might to vaporize the titan, why did she bother on such an 'inefficient' method of delaying the leviathan instead of just pulling the weed by its roots by going on the offensive. Well, she was correct on one thing, that the angel opted on the side of caution to not accidentally destroy the Grimoire. After all, for all of the dangers that the giant monster posed, it paled in comparison to how important it was to recover the arcane artifact. However, that wasn't all, for there was another, equally important reason.
You see, even though magical girls are free from the ravages of time, old age, and disease; they weren't immune to perishing via violent means, whether mundane or magical. It was important for the older girls to guide and nurture their younger peers, so that the guardians of humanity wouldn't fall to attrition. As the old adage goes, experience is the best teacher. No one would fault Camelot for not realizing this yet as she's young, but in time, she would.
Lumiere had received Goodhope's blessing, her body empowered by the good captain's magic... however, this wasn't her fight, not anymore. The century-old magical girl descended to Nessy instead, floating a foot behind the newborn magical girl then reached out as a hand clasped the redhead's shoulder. "Go forth, child. Go forth and claim your destiny."
The construction site was playing host to a battle as chaotic and wild as had not been seen since Saxons fought the Danes centuries ago, a slice of the middle ages with a sprinkle of magic and gunpowder for variety. Suzuya's tome sang with renewed purpose and she burned brighter for it, her doubt and terror locked away behind a cast iron will girding her heart from the weaknesses of her character.
The comradery of a peer at her back was something innocuous enough she could savor undilluted, though even in the heat of battle she felt it warble from an outpouring of support to something more restrained. Did Lilac Shimmer's page also influence her mind as Suzuya's? Hard to say and impossible to care when the increasingly familiar feel of her naginata parting shadowy limbs from bodies, the faint drag upon the shaft which her muscles expertly guided her through, was intoxicating.
So a frown came to march her steely visage as the Pageless turned from an uncountable throng to a trickle, then vanishing till there was nothing at all before her and even Lilac had departed her side. Flicking her gaze back and forth, she found the giant Pageless just as the sun itself streaked frmo over the rooftops and struck the increasingly dismembered horror.
Both Magical Girl and Grimoire felt frustrated at not thinking to do the same, but it was Suzuya's fault to losing herself to instinct, and it was that same dependence that would keep her from reaching similar peaks of power. Still, in her transformed state she had enough pride not to race off and steal a head she couldn't properly claim, so instead she cast her weapon back into her tails and let the limbs stretch outwards like the unfolding petals of a flower. The once rampant flames were sucked towards them, peeled from surfaces without even a burn to show they were there. The very magic of their being repairing the spot once burned before pulling back to Suzuya herself as she cleaned up the mess with eyes set now upon the birth of a new story.
Roma Bhakti
Seven minutes remained, a splash of information across the face of an old timer used to tell a circle of blessed people dining at the grandest table in all of England. Somewhere in their hearts, did they realize just how fortunate they were? That no Queen or King could ever dream to sup as they had done not once, but many, many nights before? With an unblinking gaze a small, petite girl of foreign descent scanned from left to right, finding the mixing of social class and intention a perplexing spectacle.
Garbed in plain clothes both thread bare and ragged she passed with little notice or scorn, holding up a goblet to her lips and tasting the juices of a fresh peach run cool across her tongue. Another sip and bitter tea chased the succor of fruit from her palette. The heavy tang of blood swept forth with the next sip, only for all to be rendered a fond memory with a splash of sea water. A marvelous challice bringing forth the tastes of ones desires with neither consequence nor concern.
She knew the peculiarity of liquid mercury just as intimately as fiery kiss of sake fit for a conquering daiymo. All no more then a quirk of her wrist a pull from the grail to her lips away. It left her radiating a contentedness she had not thought to find in so mundane an action, and she set down what had tasted to her as honey so thicc as to drown the lungs while her hands crossed demurely upon the Round Table's edge.
A prolific table, one that carried with it hope and the promise of equity that somehow carried itself as though free of the treachery that marred the rest of the legend. A promise that, though ultimately broken, still carried that ring of truth that could draw one in despite incredulity.
Yet it only took a glance and she knew that hope could not banish the darkness in men's hearts. How many nights need it be before word of this gathering reaches unwelcome ears? How long till wolves even Excalibur should not slay circle outside the glow of candle light to pick off the vulnerable, well fed sheep as they wander home in the dark? What would Camelot do when her blatant display of magic draws the eyes of authorities both mundane and Grand in nature?
These questions percolated in Roma Bhakti's head as the timer wound down, and the scraping of chairs preceeded people drawing to their feet lest they fall upon their bottoms. Even one as she could feel a sense of loss as the candle's were snuffed and the feast evaporated, only the warmth in her belly telling her she had eaten a meal at all. There was a good deal of well wishing and comradery still remaining, people embracing and conversing before departing, but she was like many other outliers slipping away into the night.
She stepped into the night finding a challenge before her, one that need not be broken down and rebuilt in her image, but who she felt dutybound to save from a near inevitable collapse of her own making. A sense of gratitude for the meal manifested upon Camelot's person, as all the way atop Big Ben itself there was the sudden drop of a coin ringing in the now empty scabbard. It mattered not to Roma that she wanted payment, merely that she expressed her thanks for a meal well enjoyed.
Lilac had pulled herself back a little as attack after attack poured into the great Pageless. Wielding a melee weapon and not exactly knowing everyone's plans, it would make an ill-end to get splashed by someone aiming a grand attack at the Pageless, of which there were many. Aha, and there was even a new magical girl? She'd be the right person for the job. Or, wow, look at that thing-... what even was that, um, well, look at it go. Uh, good job...? Lilac took another half step back, quite happy she hadn't remained in melee.
And then she felt Goodhope's power pour into herself again. Wait, what should she do? She glanced left and right. She didn't want to go anywhere near the foe right now! She didn't have any ranged attacks. Should she throw a rock? Oh god, Captain Goodhope was giving it all and she was just standing there doing nothing! "NYAAGH!" Lilac panicked, and gave a strangled cry as she lobbed Joyeuse at the enemy, feeling she had to do something at least. Even with Captain Goodhope's buff, thanks to Lilac's mental state and the fact that Joyeuse was not a ranged weapon, it smacked into the side of the Pageless to... moderate effect. At least it was a punctuating element to Wilhemina's own volley of ranged firepower.
And, now there was a magical sword sticking to the side of the Pageless, if that was helpful to anyone.
For a few moments, Lilac stayed frozen in her post-throwing pose, arms outstretched, as her brain worked overtime. ~How do I make that look like I did it on purpose?~
Nessie, in all her good humour, burst into a fit of laughter as she saw the state of her opponent, crumpled back with a leg lost to one of her new acquaintances. It was a boisterous hooting, perhaps to be expected of a loud Scottish girl like herself, one of those wheezing laughs that was difficult not to at least crack a smile at with how contagious it was. In fact, the redheaded witch only descended further into roaring and guffawing when the wounded Pageless, now with only one limb to stand on, sprung back up with fury in its deeply angered crimson eyes. It began charging with reckless abandon towards her, the intent to kill and destroy the newly awakened Magical Girl trickled heavily into the air it shot through, its hateful aura darkening the atmosphere.
At a certain point, Nessie manged to compose herself though, belly laughter simmering down to no more than a smirk on the girl's face. A soothing hand placed on her shoulder helped her with that, and indeed with calming any nerves she might have been feeling and disguising. Not only that however, but there was something else. Almost immediately, she began to feel lighter atop the ground, her legs springier and her body just... buzzing, somehow. Like an influx of energy and warmth passed onto her through that soft palm laid on her, power granted from one Magical Girl to another. Needless to say, it spurred Nessie on.
She turned around briefly, offering a quick but genuine smile to the angelic figure behind her. She didn't really know her yet, nor any of the other girls who she'd seen fighting and helping her, but she assured herself that she'd thank them properly once this whole mess was over. And then there'd probably be more than a few questions to follow.
"Thanks!"
But for now, a brief show of appreciation was all she really had time for, the very real threat of the raging Pageless getting closer and closer with increasing speed. She went to meet that threat head-on, hopping on top of her broomstick and balancing on it with surprising ease. A new kind of instinct had awakened within her, shown as clearly as the light of the stars reflected by her outfit. And towards those stars she went, shooting up in the air to match the tremendous speed of her main target, and also to meet its eyeline. Soon she was high up above the ground, her face the very picture of snark and determination.
"Right you! I don't know what I'm doing with my life, but it sure as bloody hell won't end here with you! Y'understa- oh shit-"
Instinct doesn't always come with the skill to wield, however. It was almost funny how ironic it was: one of Nessie's legs completely slipping off of the broomstick, towards the end of her confident proclamation. The Pageless could maybe take some solace in knowing that it wasn't the only one on the battlefield that day to lose its balance, but it would be the only one to fall. Quick reflexes, no doubt helped in some part by that boost in abilities she'd received only a minute or two before, granted the girl a second chance, a hand snapping onto the broom to leave her dangling off it. It wasn't the best time to be this precariously positioned, but the strength of her grip made one thing clear- she wasn't going to let go.
"I'm not dying here..."
Nessie muttered, her words meant for herself, more than a direct defiance of the impending dooms that could have befallen her. Her face dropped gradually, relaxing into a solemn expression as she closed her eyes. More indistinct muttering followed, the words lost even to her own ears, but that didn't matter as such. It was the thought of them that counted. Her free arm was raised up towards the oncoming monster, gesturing, aiming, homing in on it.
A rumble. There was a shimmer in the air as Nessie concentrated more, wincing to channel that borrowed extension of her current power to its absolute maximum. Another rumble. A more obvious shimmer, like the air itself was shaking. Something was coming.
There was a moment of utter silence on the battlefield. For everyone, except Nessie. Her eyes opened slightly as another fleeting presence was felt for a moment. Indicated only by a red blur flashing past her vision as she regained her sight. An attack? A new friend or foe? As if on cue to interrupt those questioning thoughts that immediately came to her mind, she felt a light pat on her back. Barely enough to sway her forwards, but with a warm touch that felt very real to the redhead.
"Do your best."
The words came gently, softly whispered into her ear, as lingering as briefly as the blur that had caught her eye only seconds before. There was something special about those words, and whoever was saying them to her. Something that spurred her on in a way no power-up ever could. Something to dwell on later, but for now, the message was clear. She'd do her best.
All of a sudden, an eruption of noise gave way to a torrent of water materialising from Nessie's outstretched palm. Like a dragon hungry for its prey it burst on forward, growing in both scale and pressure until it dwarfed its caster, rivalling the size of the Pageless just ahead. The water spiralled and twisted, the sound of it clashing with itself comparable to the growl of a great beast. It was almost like the water itself was alive.
The unyielding, torrential pressure of the water cyclone ripped right through its target, a huge chunk of the dark creature, including its head and lower body, engulfed by the oncoming storm. A storm that tore and mauled its target for all it was worth, showing no mercy while Nessie kept her hand raised. Until it was enough. As Nessie lowered her arm, her concentration and energy spent, the crashing of waves against the mechanical Pageless ceased. It had probably been killed by the first few impacts, there was no need to drag this out longer.
And so the storm passed, the water clearing away into the air past its fallen foe, dissipating away, until only a few stray droplets floating along mindlessly in the sky were evidence that it had ever been there at all.
There was too much going on, too much for the Pageless to react to; such was the true strength of Magical Girls. It was not by one fell blow but many decisive ones in unity that led to the Pageless’ destruction. Indeed, so rapid were the attacks that it barely had time to react to Nessie’s splurge of magical force, let alone prepare itself to counter. With one sword, holy and divine sticking out of its body and another, albeit less flashy, embedded in the other side, the Pageless rocked to and fro with near-comedic distortions and proportions. It wasn’t helped that its massive, mechanical body was pelted with musket fire and eldritch beams alike.
Its rage and its hatred bellowed out into the dying embers of the night, just as dawn began to peak over the horizon. But that too was smothered out, drowned by the literal force of Nessie’s newfound power. The first hit tore a hole clean through the Pageless’ body, the sheer force and pressure of the water ripping through as if the nightmarish creature was little more than tissue paper. Lilac Shimmer’s sword flew right out of its body from the sudden impact. The next hits tore it asunder completely and its own dark essence mitigated with the air, joining the dissolving water that was Nessie’s magic. What was left of the monster collapsed, its form dissolving back to the shadows of stories where it once came.
The Pageless failed once again, for now. A new story was borne into the world and the darkness receded away once more. Even the once hostage civilians were rescued, long since deposited just outside the work site. The Magical Girls could see the Pageless’ curses lose their effect on them and each one shook their heads as if spurned from a bad dream. However, their safety and movement out of harm’s way of the battle wouldn’t be by their hands, at least by no Magical Girl currently among them. Miracles came in small doses indeed.
It would only take some magic to return the construction site back to normal, erasing all evidence and trace that a fight of light and darkness once took place on its grounds. A spell wouldn’t be needed to keep the civilians ignorant of their true peril, not when all of them grumbled about bad hangovers and groggily wasting the night away just to walk to work now. Once all introductions and formalities were taken care of, there of course came the course of Ministry work.
With the mission successful, each and every one of them were expected to return to Marrywell Academy not only to report their mission briefings, but to also embrace some well-deserved rest in their dorms. The most prevalent issue at hand lay in Nessie herself. Life as she knew it was gone forever, replaced only by the Grand Ministry and the world of Magical Girls. By the time they’d reach Marrywell Academy, the sun was already shining up high and above to greet a new morning.
"Yoo-che-che-cha!" Camelot hissed, pinwheeling her right arm, as her other jerked her back upright from the throw. She winced at the slight protestation of metal, as her left hand gripped ever so slightly tighter in its efforts to keep her from hurling her whole body off with her sword. Heart beating a tad faster in her chest, Camelot's free hand returned to tending to her wind-buffeted hair, as the pit in her stomach smoothed away.
In all honesty, if there was ever a visceral fear she had ever held near -if not very dear- to her heart, it was falling to death. Above and beyond nearly any other end she could possibly meet, it was her most mortal terror several years back. Getting attacked by a monster or wild animal? Sure, bad stuff, but at least you could run away or fight back. Falling from a great height? That was the peak of helplessness. It was a death you could see coming from miles away and yet have zero power to stop. Even just seeing someone else in a position to fall from a so much as potentially deadly height was enough to make her toes curl in fear.
Becoming a Magical Girl had helped. A lot. Knowing that she was durable and agile beyond compare. Knowing that even if she landed wrong, she could survive as long as it didn't instantaneously kill her? That helped. Still didn't stop her first few forays into the world of super-strength parkour and roof-hopping from being far more terrifying than her poker face would ever reveal.
Climbing Big Ben for the first time, way back when she had first moved to London, had been as much about the thrill of doing something no regular person could as it was to overcome her utter terror. And nowadays, with two years of experience with life-or-death scenarios under her belt, she could look to the people counting on her, swallow that fear and...
Jump.
Frigid coastal wind whistled in her ears, as she arced through London's sky. It wasn't the furthest distance that she could have cleared, but leaping with her full strength behind it would likely have seriously damaged the top of Big Ben. As the ground rapidly approached, she tucked her legs in, rolling her body, before extending her legs again in an angled plank to the ground in preparation for contact.
In the distance, she could feel the crescendo of her comrades' powers, as her fellow Magical Girls unleashed everything upon the massive Pageless. Though she had already dropped too low to see what exactly was occurring anymore, she'd had enough of a glimpse before her leap to know that Excalibur had struck true... if not particularly effectively. But it had provided exactly the critical time they needed. With Lumiere able to personally reach the fresh Magical Girl, they'd have been able to remove her from danger and finally stop playing defense.
After that, with Lumiere on the scene, victory was all but assured.
The ground encroached, and Camelot kicked out, extending her arms back, hands braced to absorb some of the force her legs were about to take. Sparks flew, as enchanted steel-clad heels skidded along the street. Allowing her momentum to resolve, her knees bent, and Camelot tucked and rolled, sighting the rooftops, before planting her skidding boots carefully against the street and leaping again.
Not all her prior momentum was lost to her, but she had still redirected very little if any into her new course out of caution. Certainly, while she could go yet faster still, the property damage would be noticeable and personally unacceptable. Super strength to any serious capacity was a responsibility to be carefully managed. It didn't exactly come with an instruction booklet, and she'd had to learn through trial and error... and a lot of collateral damage more than anything else. Nowadays, it was nearly trivial to hold back, but that still didn't mean she could simply pull off some of the more ridiculous speedster and strongman feats out of sheer physics.
Well, technically, she could totally bring other people with her while moving at top speed, but she couldn't imagine they'd survive the violent whiplash unless they were extraordinarily lucky or she was in a position to be extremely careful. Humans were some of the most strangely resilient -and yet equally fragile- creatures around, and as one of their sworn protectors, she had to be mindful of that. That had led her to long nights spent studying biology and physics, struggling to understand where exactly the line was. She'd never been the most academically inclined; her talents had always lied strictly within the martial... much to her parents' disappointment.
But that was neither here nor there.
These days, she was finally doing something that she was good at, even if she didn't necessarily like everything about it. Helping people was one thing. Putting her life on the line was another. And yet, what did it say about her that for all her fear of death, she never hesitated once when it came to using her power for the sake of others? Good things maybe? She felt others might say so, but it felt almost ingenuine to accept such praise, when she wasn't even sure if she was really doing this to help others or just to live out her superhero fantasies.
Steel-clad feet clanking against the London rooftops in a pounding hurried rhythm, she was close to the battle now, moments away, and she could see the newbie precariously clinging high above to the shaft of a flying broom, practically bleeding mana into the air around her, as she wound up for what would clearly be a massive blow against the Pageless. A note of confusion bled into Camelot's mind, wondering for what possible good and holy reason Lumiere had let the novice out of her reach. And yet, despite the angelic Magical Girl clearly not being occupied with her new charge, the Pageless still existed! Was the Pageless they were fighting seriously that strong? Surely not!
What if Lumiere had been injured somehow keeping the newbie safe? But Captain Goodhope was there, and she could heal her... But what if she was also hurt or running low on mana?
Fuck it.
The next leap was with nearly her full strength behind it, the rooftop beneath her noisily crumbling, tiles flying off wildly, as she arced high through the air just in time for a titanic cyclone of water to rip downwards from the witch-looking new girl's hand, impacting the Pageless with all the force of Poseidon's personal attention. The beast that had supposedly been giving half a dozen Magical Girls issues crumpled under the assault like wet tissue paper, steel warping and shrieking, as its entire body was rent in two, the head and torso entirely obliterated. With a ghostly death rattle, the remains of the giant Pageless began to dissolve into the air alongside the similarly dissipating torrent of water.
Turning her gaze away from the spectacle, Camelot sighted the ground and made sure she wasn't about to land on anyone. That happened to be a negative, despite all the Magical Girls present, and she allowed herself to feel a small thrill when her arc resolved, landing with a short sharp crack of steel boots and gauntlets against concrete just within the bounds of the construction site. Standing up from her all-fours crouch, she panned her vision over the present Magical Girls and found herself having to sharply restrain a frown.
Lilac Shimmer was merely disarmed of her blade and looking a bit ruffled. Dynasty Queen was looking as carelessly unconcerned as ever... if a bit soaked from the new girl's attack. Stripes had disappeared to who-the-hell-knows-where but had been apparently unharmed last she'd seen her a mere minute or so ago. Ethereal Rose and her eldritch hubby weren't looking so much as phased by anything that had occurred, utterly spotless the both of them... or whatever passed for spotless on a Lovecraftian monstrosity. The mystery fox-eared Magical Girl was looking okay too; and on that note, it did appear that her fires were gone. Whether they were short-lived or had been extinguished by her will was unknown, but it still came at much relief nonetheless. The last thing they needed was to be firefighting right now... even if the new girl was practically ready-made for such a scenario.
And Lumiere and Goodhope were... just fine.
Not that she wanted them to be hurt -the opposite as it happened, but the fact that Goodhope seemed merely exhausted and Lumiere fresh as a daisy did not reflect well on the reasoning behind the latter clearly deliberately allowing a complete novice to risk their life against a foe that could have killed veterans. If only she had been able to be here... If only being here in time wouldn't have meant the doom of her people at the Round Table. Mixed gratitude and wariness towards the Grand Minister warred unseen within her, as she outwardly merely pursed her lips.
"Sorry I'm late. I was held up dealing with the stragglers elsewhere in the city," she said simply, unable to help some chilliness sinking into her tone when her eyes flicked past Lumiere, as she strode towards where Excalibur was buried half-way to the hilt in the ground. Taking hold of the hilt, the glowing holy sword slid free as if a knife from melting butter. Glancing up at the still helplessly dangling newbie, Camelot frowned and moved to stand underneath where the girl was floating, hoping to be able to catch her if she didn't manage to get a handle on controlling her broom or otherwise lost grip.
She halfway considered asking Lumiere if she'd be obliged to give the poor thing a hand, but had to restrain a scoff upon further thought. The angel's idealistic "trial by fire" style of care was hardly difficult to pick up on if one had spent any length of time with her. Problem being, of course, regardless of how lucky they'd gotten with the newbie's initial strength, she was still inexperienced. And further, regardless of any innate instinct inherent in her abilities, most Magical Girls really didn't take their first transformations seriously, didn't really appreciate the very real danger they were in through the dream-like haze. There were far too many risks inherent for anyone even remotely responsible to be okay with doing anything other than safely tucking away the newcomer until they could actually experiment with and understand their limits.
Honestly, these girls weren't soldiers by any stretch of the imagination, and not even soldiers were thrown into the meat grinder without meeting complete and exacting standards. But Marrywell Academy -and the Grand Ministry by extension- seemed to think the best thing to do was to simply throw the girls at any problem that appeared and then pray that they just... "figured something out", relying on friendship and comradery to win the day like the tired old cliches of every mahou shoujou show ever.
To be fair, this had somehow been actually working for the most part, but Camelot felt it was entirely fair to be critical of such an oversight. After all, the Pageless had been getting more aggressive, and every new Magical Girl was now forced to deal with at least twice the troubles their seniors had before them. It was riskier now more than ever to be chosen by a Grimoire, and Camelot couldn't quite understand how this seemed to escape the perception of everyone around her. The only reason she, herself, had managed to survive this long under such lax standards was the strength of her own Grimoire and her own personally hyper-focused talent for anything martial.
Otherwise, King Arthur's Legend or not, she'd have long since perished.
These days, having overcome her own "trial by fire", Camelot had dedicated herself to being the shield of her far more naive comrades. All these girls who drank the Grand Ministry's Kool aid honestly weren't much at fault for how they went about things, considering they were stuck in a culture that overwhelmingly reinforced such reckless behavior. While Camelot had no real way to oppose the Ministry or force them to change their ways, she could still use her own power to stand between overwhelming danger and her comrades too young and idealistic to avoid it. She could take the blows they couldn't, shoulder the pain of injuries that would have anyone else sobbing on the ground or in shock. As long as it didn't kill her, she would heal and survive; therefore, it was her Duty, her sworn Oath, to be nothing less than the best, to train every day, to master her powers above and beyond any of her peers.
To everyone she held to be under her Aegis, whether they be a civilian or fellow light of justice, she would be their Shield and their Sword. It did not matter if they were younger or older than her, her senior or her underclassmen. She would take that position, and she would hold it down by any means necessary until such a day as the chicks she nurtured under her protection were finally fit to spread their own wings and soar. She would not allow anything as base as carelessness to end these bright-eyed young heroes' lives before their time. She swore it.
Sighing, Camelot slid Excalibur into her Scabbard, only to start slightly at a light 'clink' sounding out from her hip. Brows furrowing, she glanced up at the dangling girl again before looking back at her Scabbard, where Excalibur refused to fully sheathe itself, continuing to spill lesser amounts of golden light about her general area. Lightly, she drew and then attempted to sheathe the blade again, only to meet with the same light metallic ring.
Kneeling down, she slowly drew Excalibur out fully and feigned wiping the blade lightly against the edge of her royal blue cape. With her free hand, she lightly shook the Scabbard, only to hear a tinkling sound from the base, as something scraped against the metal cap that served to safely blunt Excalibur's tip while sheathed. Tilting the Scabbard, she could hear the whisper of that something sliding against leather, before the object clattered to the ground with a ring.
Camelot's brows furrowed at the sight of... a coin?
Sheathing Excalibur, this time fully, she nodded in satisfaction, pursed her lips and reached down, picking up the glimmering currency with a light shink of metal scraping against concrete, as she stood once more. Turning the solidus of the realm over in her hand, she frowned at the divot that had been all too easily rent in one side by Excalibur's probing tip, as she-
Solidus?
"What the hell is a solidus?" she murmured quietly, before swallowing slowly in trepidation. "And why does it feel like I'm supposed to know?" Scowling, she squeezed her eyes shut briefly and closed her fist tightly around the gold coin, minding her strength so as not to crush it.
Was she developing a new power after all this time? Sure, it wasn't exactly unheard of, but most Magical Girls tended to have sussed out their basic limits by this point. For her to potentially be developing an ability that made what appeared to be gold -in addition to everything else her Grimoire foisted upon her- seemed absurd. The fact that she simply knew what this coin was called -the same way she could wield her sword like a master, the same way she could confidently command a horse or assess a battlefield tactically- implied that it had roots in her Grimoire's Legend and in King Arthur's time.
But Camelot the City had never particularly been notable for its wealth that she could recall. Nor could Camelot the Magical Girl particularly fathom what purpose creating gold served towards saving people from the Pageless. The Round Table, at least, managed to sustain and create hope. For all that it was just about completely worthless in combat, in terms of ensuring combat never needed to happen or helping victims afterwards, it was as unparalleled in its field of healing the soul as Captain Goodhope was at healing bodies.
It made no sense.
Where had the gold come from? If it was from an emerging power, what were the conditions of its activation? Even as she searched within herself, Camelot could not find any particular mental switch or instinct that hadn't been there prior.
She shook her head and exhaled deeply. Whatever the case, this was no place to have her head in the clouds. Glancing back up at the sky, this time she finally rolled her eyes and called aloud to the redheaded witch dangling from a broom, "Hey! You need a hand up there?!"
"It is done..." From the moment Nessie unleashed the veritable tsunami onto the damage Pageless' direction, its fate had been sealed. Waves upon waves of magical water crashed upon its bulk, tearing it asunder and completely ripping it apart even before the torrent had finished. This was the moment that Lumiere was specifically looking for, the moment where their kin could sample a taste of her newfound powers, the baby bird's first flight to join her brethren in the skies. It'd have been less than ideal for a would-be Chosen to find their grimoire in a secure environment, things could go on for days, months, or even years before the magical girl realized what their grimoire could do. Ascending right in the presence of the Pageless and then immediately destroying those Pageless, that's the best case scenario in the long run.
To the wide-eyed idealists, such principle might be seen as harshly cruel, but rest assured, as "cruel" as this method was, it couldn't hold a candle to what the Pageless would do to people who fell to them, mundane folks and magical girls included. This path wasn't for the faint of heart and the sooner these girls harden their hearts and minds, the better it is for everyone involved, most importantly themselves.
The exhausted Seraph scanned her surroundings once more to both detect any lingering Pageless (there shouldn't be any but one couldn't too careful) and check on the people. The civilians would be fine, no physical harm came to them and they would recover from their drunken-like afflictions in a matter of hours, it'd be like as if nothing happened at all and they could continue on with their lives. The girls were also fine, everyone were accounted for and the worst of the bunch only suffered exhaustion much like herself, no one was in critical condition let alone perished, good.
However, she did notice a new arrival on the scene, well technically not new as she had made her presence known by throwing her signature sword at the now-vaporized Pageless. Camelot, the magical girl who possessed the Grimoire so closely related to Merlin's own. Lumiere might be aloof, but it shouldn't be mistaken for blissful ignorance like a certain tabby cat, those seemingly expressionless blue eyes possessed a sharp focus for discerning details that only life experience could bring.
Camelot's momentary glare at her didn't go unnoticed, nor did the implication of her words. The Seraph floated closer to the silver-clad paladin in order to lower her voice as to not make a scene, "Stragglers... you used the Round Table to gather a crowd again, didn't you?" She didn't need an answer, twas' a rhetorical question, "Those Pageless weren't stragglers, they were lured there by the scent of your blatant use of magic, the fact that you gathered innocents while doing it certainly doesn't help your case. Do you realize that you've done the Pageless' job for them?" Lumiere jabbed as an arm gestured to the civilians that the vanquished Pageless gathered here, "Let's hope that no more of those 'stragglers' arrived after you left..." or else, the innocents' blood would be on Camelot's gauntlets.
"Good intentions do not always lead to good results, and it will be to the benefit of everyone if you realize this sooner than later." With that stern advice, Lumiere shifted her attention to the hanging Nessie as she floated up to help the newborn witch while Camelot was busy with the strange gold coin stuck to her scabbard.
"You're one of us now, child." The almost-a-century old magical girl gently cradled Nessie's form in a princess carry, allowing her to hold her broom normally before descending down to place the redhead's feet firmly back on the ground, "We will have much to speak about, you're owed explanations and we will provide them, but for now however..." The white-clad magical girl raised her gaze at her brethren, "We should not linger here, everyone," Lumiere addressed them, all of whom were literal teenagers unlike herself, "Please save any pleasantries once we've returned to Marrywell."
With that, Lumiere disengaged Sefirot, her form shifting into that of Lucette once more, mundane clothes of cotton fabric instead of a white-gold bridal gown, crown, and obelisk wings, pupils a normal black dot instead of glowing white orbs. Without further ado, she would hold Nessie's hand - or not if the Scot didn't wish to - and guide her toward the direction of Marrywell Academy.
Lilac appeared in beside Nessie for the briefest of moments, blowing a kiss which sent ethereal petals of light scattering about. "Marvelous, you've trulyshowntruegracean-!" Possessed not of the power of flight, Lilac had jumped, and mistimed exactly how much time she would have to hang at the apex of her jump and talk before plummeting back to the earth below.
After a dull *thwumph*, Lilac cupped her hands around her mouth. "Don't worry if you fall, us magical girls are real tough! Oh, and- of course, Lumiere's got it. Her yelling turned to whispers as the scene developed.
Now with Pageless gone, Lilac looked around her to herself, and fetched her loyal royal blade from the place it had fallen. It was a little out of the way and Lilac almost relished the opportunity to be out of the main scene. The big magical girls seemed to be a little upset with each other and Lilac wasn't sure she wanted to be part of that. Lilac's eyes flitted from place to place. "Camelot?" A knot formed in her stomach, perhaps at the sight, perhaps from the crash of all the swirling emotions and adrenaline coming down. Probably both really. Camelot always just felt like.. Her but better. A legend where she was a fable.
Lilac shook her head, as if that could dislodge such thoughts from it. She clutched Joyeuse tight, like it were a teddy bear instead, turning her back on the scene. She had done everything she needed to, right? Make a flashy introduction, fight with honor, aid the new magical girl without stealing the spotlight. That was how the story was supposed to happen, right? Unlike Camelot or Lumiere, Lilac didn't think it was or wasn't appropriate for a Magical Girl to defeat the great Pageless in their first battle for reasons of learning or experience. Lilac believed that was how it was supposed to be because that was how stories worked. And stories clearly had a power in this world.
Breathing deeply, she dismissed Joyeuse and began to make her way back to Merrywell. Everything was ok. Her kingly demeanor might have slipped a little bit as the battle wore on, but first impressions were more important anyway. She hadn't made anybody mad, so, all in all, it was still a good day, right?
Tesni had honestly lost herself in the rhythm of her fight. She no longer cared about the Grimoire, or the maiden. She was here. She was now. And the Pageless were present. So, with a ruthless pace and a mad glint in her eye, the Monkey King had massacred her way through the horde. Her staff shooting out and retracting like a cannon, blasting the fodder and scarring the earth. The sweat and dust mixing, caking her skin, was more refreshing than any shower. Deep in her soul she felt that this was what she was meant to do; dancing on the knife’s edge between life and death so perfectly that she couldn’t be touched. The now, the impulsive and self indulgent now. How strong her legend was in the past wasn't going to save her now. How strong she could be in the future wasn't worth worrying about as it would come naturally to her, it was all flowing and the battle... the battle made sense. Instinct and senses were mixing and blending, she felt she was on the edge of a cliff and was about to leap off the edge and just fall into some kind of enlightenment.
It was in this ecstasy of having almost achieved a goal that she didn't even realise she had that Tesni foolishly ignored the signs around her… and most importantly she ignored the torrent of water that swept the battlefield clean. Unable to save herself from being drenched, Tesni did manage to stop herself being swept away, slamming her staff down as a pillar, diverting the flow around her. Disappointed and soaked, but strangely content, the Welsh girl sat on the ground with a bittersweet sigh.
“I was so close… I felt it, at the edge of life and death… where 'now' is the only thing that matters, that’s where my next level is. I’m using my powers well, but if feels like I’m not quite using them right.” Staring at the flowing water Tesni stood up and plucked her staff up as easily as someone would a flower and shrunk it slowly so as to not cause a cracking sound that the appearance of a sudden void where an indestructible and giant staff used to be. As she put it behind her ear the hulking Pageless corpse shredded to pieces revealed itself to her. She was frankly impressed that she had managed to miss it.
“I was sooooooo out of it. When did that get there? When did the ‘once and future king’ show up? Who’s the new gir- you know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. While I was off enjoying myself, the goals were all achieved and in the end a good deed for the day was done.” Looking over at Camelot, Tesni as always couldn’t help but compare her to them. Both heroic figures tied to a specific culture with an iconic weapon, given the title of ‘king’ and famous for having gone on quests…
“Well I don’t die at the end of my legend... and I actually succeed at the quest!” Cracking her neck she wandered over to the knightly magical girl and looked up at the new witch dangling from on high.
“Why would she need help? She tore the Pageless to pieces, so I’m sure she can either tank the fall or otherwise control her fall.” When the most angelic of magical girls gracefully lowered the recruit to the ground Tesni did have to stop herself from rolling her eyes but couldn’t help herself from grinning.
“Ya gonna carry her down from every high place from now on? Ah well, newbies should get eased into this as much as possible. Home time and a sleep in is in order I think, that was a rough bit of exercise and don't worry newbie, I won't hold you getting me drenched against you, everyone goes a little wild their first time.”
As the situation unfolded and she gave her blessing to her allies, it became evident that Lumiére was out of the fight. Though a veteran of a hundred years, not to mention in possession of a Grimoire with literally mythical strength, the hit she took must have been enough to almost overwhelm her reserves. That is probably why she held back, encouraging the new girl to take her power into her hands instead, however that did leave one of Wilhelmina's blessings worse than useless. She had to end it or find a new target with what precious little mental capacity she had left as she put her soul into maintainin-
The new girl!
Not questioning why she could give the blessing to her and also sensing she was about to do something big, Wilhelmina removed the blessing from Lumiére so it could assist Nessie instead, all the while apologising to her senior in her head. It felt cruel to withdraw this aid from her comrade, especially when she must have ran herself dry, but they did need to win this and if Wilhelmina also lost her power... Who would heal the injured after the battle? The decision weighed heavy on such small shoulders, necessity considered unjust by a mind used to odds far more fair and beneficial. But at least her acts have not been in vain.
A tidal wave, or at least a close enough equivalent, flooded the construction site. The torrent of water obliterated the massive Pageless with a titanic crash. It rent it apart, disintegrating the construct into dozens upon dozens of pieces before it erased all traces of its existence in a magnificent display of magic. Wilhelmina could feel the raw power behind it, akin to one of Lumiére's concentrated beams which could smash through buildings with little effort. Truly worthy of finishing a monster on this scale.
She let out a relieved sigh as she let go of her magic, sailors and blessings fading along with the Pageless' influence. Her form also returned to her original one as the familiar forces settled down.
"Haaa... I am so sorry about that, Rose!" she spoke up after she had a moment to catch her breath. Her shoulders sagged a little as tension left Wilhelmina's body as though it were a tightband freed of its load. She was still aware of the situation of course, knowing that Lumiére had Nessie in good hands and that she wanted to make her introductions.
"Thank you for respecting my wishes," the dutch girl continued, completely unaware of the situation previously. She had been too focused after all. "I'm Wilhelmina or Captain Goodhope. Sunny and nice to meet you! Do you want to get to know the others together?" With a genuine, radiant smile, Wilhelmina introduced herself. She truly had no idea what was in store for her...
The Seraph floated closer to the silver-clad paladin in order to lower her voice as to not make a scene, "Stragglers... you used the Round Table to gather a crowd again, didn't you?" She didn't need an answer, twas' a rhetorical question, "Those Pageless weren't stragglers, they were lured there by the scent of your blatant use of magic, the fact that you gathered innocents while doing it certainly doesn't help your case. Do you realize that you've done the Pageless' job for them?" Lumiere jabbed as an arm gestured to the civilians that the vanquished Pageless gathered here, "Let's hope that no more of those 'stragglers' arrived after you left..." or else, the innocents' blood would be on Camelot's gauntlets.
"Good intentions do not always lead to good results, and it will be to the benefit of everyone if you realize this sooner than later."
Absolute absurdity. For what possible reason or expected result could she say such a thing?
Camelot's eyes narrowed, as her stride halted momentarily, brow furrowed. In a similarly low tone, she couldn't help responding with conviction, "So what? Doing the right thing is rarely easy. I do it because it's hard, because I can where others cannot, because I made an Oath to the people. As much as I don't like it, I was given this gift for a reason, and I'm not about to be scared off by one single Pageless incident out of seven-hundred upwards opportunities." She rested one hand upon her breastplate. "We're supposed to be heroes, supposed to save everyone, and I can't believe I have to be the one saying this." She shifted on her heel, shooting a brief glance back at the dark sky and the new girl, before scowling and turning to go. "If there's consequences? So be it. I'll still do my best and accept the fault when it is due to me. I don't pretend like I'm perfect... but I won't be lectured to by anyone on how to save the people they can't be bothered with..."
Especially not the likes of you, she barely managed to internalize.
She paused. Perhaps she could put this a way the angelic Magical Girl would personally understand. She hummed aloud. "God gave me the ability to feed His people, because I am -rather disappointingly it seems- one of the very few with the will to use that power as it is intended, without hesitation or fear of consequences." Her expression turned somewhat pensive and concerned. "Doing a good thing for its own sake is never wrong, Lumiere, but sometimes you really make me worry that you've lost sight of that... We are shepherds; our responsibility is to every last lamb... and our fellow shepherds besides, not just the flock."
Abruptly, Camelot started, as if finally remembering that she had yet to retrieve her sword and immediately bustled away to do so, any further conversation falling on deaf ears, as she became occupied with her Scabbard and the mysterious gold coin within.
[Present]
Camelot was further wrested from her musings over the coin and the newbie by a rougher voice addressing her. Straightening up, she raised an eyebrow at the still rather soaked form of Dynasty Queen ambling closer, legendary staff nowhere to be seen but presumably tucked away behind her ear as her Legend's titular main character was want to do.
Camelot had mixed feelings about her fellow "king". That is to say, she wasn't quite sure whether to dislike or pity her. It was honestly frightening, looking at Dynasty Queen and seeing an almost funhouse mirror of what she could be, someone with far too much power and far too little care in how they used it. She was someone who took after the original Monkey King almost all too well. A battle junkie with a tunnel vision for violence and getting what they wanted that was honestly unrivaled amongst her fellow Magical Girls. "Right" and "wrong" never seemed to factor into anything she did, only her immediate enjoyment. While she certainly saved people; it seemed more to be a consequence of her actions than any intended result. The battle in and of itself was the apparent goal. Everything else was secondary... and/or an excuse to get into a fight.
Of course, this was not necessarily Dynasty Queen's own fault. Rather, for someone with such a sense for combat as Camelot, she had picked up on occasion the utterly unnerving change in demeanor that came over her fellow, when the latter was fully "in the zone" as it were in battle. It wasn't just Tesni's own bloodlust that seeped out... but something more... something all too much older and more dangerous, perhaps looking to rekindle what it had lost. It did not reassure Camelot any that Tesni seemed quite bold about referring to herself and other Magical Girls in terms that implied their Grimoires were stories about themselves.
A very dangerous line of thought... and surely... hopefully vastly incorrect.
While Alters were the most infamous for it, it was hardly uncommon for the instincts that allowed a standard Magical Girl to use their powers properly from the get-go to come with a bit of extra... baggage, some more-so than others. Dynasty Queen's own brand was almost sinister in its subtlety simply from just how similar she was to her patron. But that did not matter to Camelot. Any mind warp was just as bad as any other, no matter the degree or duration. Free will was the right of all sentient beings, and to alter who they were was to strip them of the opportunity to change and evolve into a better version of themselves naturally. Such a thing was to strip them of their fundamental right to command their own destiny, and she would fight against such things with every breath.
That said, Camelot felt it would be arrogant to say even she was unaffected, despite her strong sense of self; she found herself able to possess a certain way with words that she didn't outside her transformed state. Perhaps it was simply the security of feeling so physically indomitable, but she found herself surer in her convictions, quicker to act rather than plan, more likely to forget overthinking problems and simply carve the simplest path to a satisfactory conclusion. She suspected that, much like Dynasty Queen, her own brand of mental influence was subtle... far more so in fact, which was honestly worse in some ways. It was far more difficult to separate an almost casual word or two from her dialogue, painfully awkward to even try to double-check her phrasing and tone of speech on the fly.
The point being that it was difficult enough for her to act against such instincts, even as consciously aware and fully opposed as she was. How much more difficult might it be for someone far more impulsive than herself? She worried that if she asked about or so much as mentioned her concerns, Dynasty Queen wouldn't even care, would brush off the seriousness of the situation... as usual. Worst case, Tesni would be the kind to absolutely revel in the new person she was becoming, the "Reject my Humanity, Jojo" sort that more than a few rather chuuni Magical Girls were. So, in a lot of ways, Camelot couldn't bring herself to fully blame Dynasty Queen for her behavior.
That didn't mean it was any easier to put up with her recklessly casual demeanor, but from one "king" to another, Camelot had long managed to be just as cordial with Dynasty Queen as anyone else, if occasionally chiding in regards to the overt property damage. Not that she had all too much ground to stand on herself when the chips were down, but at least she was trying not to cause wanton destruction in the course of achieving victory.
“Why would she need help? She tore the Pageless to pieces, so I’m sure she can either tank the fall or otherwise control her fall.”
Camelot hummed at the fairly sensible inquiry. She shrugged, unconcerned. In all honesty, she replied, "It's true that she is likely in no physical danger, especially not with myself and Captain Goodhope here. I suppose I was hoping to give her some further sense of control over this surely bizarre situation. It's already going to be bad enough getting her life upended by the interference of the Ministry. I felt I could do at least this much... and maybe save her the embarrassment of an awkward tumble. I-" She paused and frowned, as Dynasty Queen gave a shit-eating grin towards the sight of a now ascended Lumiere. "Gosh damn it, I understand that it's a might bit rich coming from me, but have some tact, Lumiere," she muttered, barely loud enough to be heard by Tesni.
As the angelic Magical Girl snapped up the poor new girl in a princess carry and bore them inexorably to the ground, before releasing her own transformation, Camelot pinched the bridge of her nose. She groaned aloud, when Captain Goodhope actually followed suit. "What the hell? We're still right out in the open where anyone could see. I understand there's 'new girl enthusiasm' going around, but we still need to get out of here quickly. Staying transformed to fly or roof hop would be safer and much more efficient."
“Ya gonna carry her down from every high place from now on? Ah well, newbies should get eased into this as much as possible. Home time and a sleep in is in order I think, that was a rough bit of exercise and don't worry newbie, I won't hold you getting me drenched against you, everyone goes a little wild their first time.”
Some part of Camelot appreciated Dynasty Queen for being irreverent enough to do the poking in her place. As much as she'd like to get on Lumiere's case herself, this was no place or time to have a row... and a pointless one at that. The angelic Magical Girl was far too set in her ways for any level of base chiding over something so technically insignificant to have any effect. The only way she'd even have footing was if the newbie decided to take personal offense, but even then, Camelot was reluctant to set herself further at odds with one of the most powerful Magical Girls in the world over something so petty. The divide between them was wide enough already, thank you. No need to breed discord amongst their fellows that could screw someone over on the battlefield.
Instead of allowing herself to be dragged along for the ride in that little conversation, Camelot made another once over of the area, idly noting the drifting citizens, who luckily at least appeared still too dazed to make two of the Magical Girls' number dropping their secret identities in front of them an issue... yet.
Lilac Shimmer had stowed away her sword and already seemed to be leaving, which was... odd? The girl was the bombastic and friendly sort from what she'd gathered in prior interactions, but there was always a strange sense of hesitation and distance that seemed at odds with outward appearances. That aside, considering her enthusiastic leap of a greeting to the new girl moments before, Camelot would have honestly expected her to sidle up beside her and Lumiere and begin chatting her up.
Speaking of "chatting people up"...
The new Alter she'd heard about from their recruiters was busy -for lack of a better word- encroaching upon Wilhelmina's personal space with her very large... friend looming above. Sighing at the sight of the... frankly abject beauty's mouth currently running a mile a minute, Camelot began to walk over to save her all too tolerant friend from the obvious social onslaught she was under. Which, given Wilhelmina being a social butterfly and extrovert of some renown, seemed an almost impressive feat in and of itself.
"Captain Goodhope," Camelot addressed with some emphasis on the name, as she approached, nodding her head leadingly at all the potential witnesses still drifting around within mutual sight range. "Are you well? You seemed exhausted, but I hadn't thought so much so as to be unable to maintain your transformation." Her tone turned a bit dry, as her eyes flicked back towards Lumiere. "But I suppose since that seems to be the thing to do today, I can carry you back the Academy if you wish."
Her eyes turned back towards the vibrant babbling beauty, before she cleared her throat, doing her best to politely interrupt the stream of words. Stepping closer, she offered her steel-clad right hand for a handshake. After a moment's thought, she couldn't help rolling her eyes with a small smile and hamming it up just a tad for the newbie, allowing a portion of the silver tongue of a dashing knight to flow freely from her unnatural instincts. "Magical Knight Camelot at your service, M'lady. Ethereal Rose, was it? Far be it from me to interrupt this delightful verbal discourse, but we'd be best served hastening from here to reconvene with the Grand Ministry as soon as possible." Her grin turned wry, revealing the jestful -if genuine- nature of her words. "They do love their official reports and such." She nodded towards Wilhelmina, silently searching for some sign that this arrangement was agreeable. "That said, no reason you two can't continue this discussion on the way over. What say you?"
Her eyes drifted again towards the fox-eared-and-tailed Magical Girl, who was still hanging back, as she raised a single brow and made a beckoning gesture with the hand that was occupied with concealing a gold coin, rather than a handshake. Unlike Ethereal Rose, this Magical Girl was a complete mystery to her. But, like Ethereal Rose, she'd yet to personally lay eyes upon them until today. In fact, she'd not even heard a peep about this girl before at Marrywell, despite how distinctive that transformation was. Camelot didn't recognize her, but then again, it wasn't like she was omniscient. She could only focus her attention so many ways at once, and the Alters had her priority as the people most likely to be given trouble by their fellow students. There were good odds on her being either a fresh local Magical Girl and/or a new transfer student as well; they popped in all the time, and it really cost her nothing to check and be proven wrong.
And if she was right? Well, all the better to get to the newbies before the likes of Lumiere sunk nonsense into their skulls at the root.
It was only natural for everyone to crowd around the new Magical Girl, whether it be offering advice or console to Nessie. Understandably, her life would be changed by choice or chance with only her newfound fellow Magical Girls to guide her along the journey. Magical Girl. The very phrase was perhaps foreign to the Scott but whatever notions she had conceived previously were challenged and tested now. Magic was very much real as Nessie discovered, and so too were the horrendous, horrible things that went bump in the night.
By Lumière’s efforts and insistence, the common agreement latched onto moving away from the construction site and towards Marrywell Academy. It was there where all of Nessie’s answers would be given. Naturally, the schoolgrounds that also served as the headquarters for the Grand Ministry bustled with activity and quite a sight to see when the group eventually reached their destination. That was to be expected because morning had long since come with an early sun high in the sky. Although every person on grounds was a Magical Girl, from staff to student, senior to junior, education was still an important part of their lives.
Thus, it was to be to no surprise that the open grounds were filled with students moving about, chatting in their own little worlds with each other not too different from the night group. Some girls gave the arriving Magical Girls a nod with sympathetic looks for pulling an all-nighter. Others watched curiously at the appearance of Nessie, very much curious of another that joined their ranks. More stares and passing looks came about to some of the other girls as well, as it turned out quite a few were newly joining Marrywell Academy in addition to Nessie.
But some of the looks were filled with a very obvious disdain aimed at the group. Some girls sharpened their features when they noticed Wilhelmina was among them. Those Magical Girls with Altered Grimoires were always treated with some distance compared to their more traditional counterparts, even outside of the Grand Ministry. Within its walls, it was no different. Passing whispers mentioning Wilhelmina’s name bubbled up here and there with some girls finding it off-putting having an Alter so close to the new girls. Ironically, their perceptions on the matter might have changed were they aware of Olivia’s own status as such-
“Hey, stop right there!”
“G-Get back here!”
“Miss Clementine, please slow down!”
The ordinary normalcy that came with the day-to-day beckons of school life were shattered by loud commotion and the heavy footfalls of running; no, sprinting. A red blur dashed through the school’s open courtyards, kicking up dust where she went. Just behind her were three students with a professional look about them who all waved around papers madly at their target.
“Miss Clementine, for the last time, you cannot afford to reject another teaching position! That’s the fifth one this week!”
“That’s the twentieth one this month!”
“That’s the hundredth this year!”
“Girls, girls, I keep telling you, I’m totally not the best for whatever crammed classroom gig you think I’m capable of. Now excuse me while I take the time to admire our lovely school scenery. Ah yes, that’s a nice bush-”
“Miss Clementine!” all three girls screeched.
Charlotte Clementine winced and covered her ears at the rise in volume. She leapt over benches and dashed through grass and small ponds to avoid the heels of responsibility. “Guys come on; you really think I’m cut out for this teaching business? Not to mention, really not a good look for you all chasing around a teacher in front our new budding students. Tsk tsk.”
Her direction changed trajectory, coming right for Camelot and Lumière’s group of Magical Girls. Charlotte skidded to a stop for just a brief moment to give the group a flaring grin and a wink. “Hi there, bye there, if they ask anything, tell em you didn’t see nothing, yeah?”
With two hands over her head and arms erect high, Clementine bent her knees and leapt forward into the nearest bush beside the group. Like a diver to the ocean, she landed into the bush seamlessly with only the rustle of leaves to indicate her presence and…departure?
“Huuuuuuuh? Where did she go!?!” the three girls clamored. They all but barreled into the returning group and tumbled into the bush to tear it apart. But try as they might, Charlotte was nowhere in sight.
