What might have been a deep conversation was cut short as the current battle consumed Nolan's attention. Fleo shrugged and allowed the action to recapture her attention too, since her interest in the topic of Nolan's unique brand of heroism neither engaged her nor felt quite correctly formulated. It didn't suit Fleo to delve into personal psychological or moral particulars. Not examining her shortsighted ruminations further, and instead turning her focus back in the Games she was here to watch in the first place, was the better option by half.
Zephyr's spectacle, though flashy and intense, was not fully comprehended by Fleo until he explained it in disbelief. A glance at the swordsman confirmed that what he'd witnessed had, for some reason, affected him drastically. Nolan's statement was not, however, terribly enlightening, and the dusty woman found skepticism in her heart. ”A god? I'm not sure if that's right. Sure, there are some really powerful beings out there, ones with magic that might seem pretty godlike, but a true God is beyond all things.” Fleo lifted one of her arms and looked at it, as if she were peering right through the bandages. Her normally upbeat face now looked solemn. ”A true God can't be taken over, or slain.” She watched, but did not cheer, when Zephyr triumphed over Harry. Tough Love just couldn't catch a break, she seemed, though Dragon Fang looked to be in good shape.
While the painter painted, the reader read, but Indigo also narrowed her eyes in veiled frustration. She had expected that Isla would attempt to work whatever charm she'd used previously on Ike to trap the Librarian inside her painting, which the book that she'd been holding would have helped her with. It seemed, however, that Isla wouldn't be attempting any funny business this time. Indigo received her painting with a polite smile before blowing on it a few times to make sure the paint was dry and ready for conveyance. Unbeknownst to Isla, however, she also used it to hide the fact that she swapped out A Tale of Two Sons for another one of her tomes.
A few seconds passed, during which Indigo examined Isla closely. The people behind her were getting slightly irritated—why was she holding up the line now that she'd received her painting? If Indigo was aware of the increasing oddity of the situation, however, she gave no sign. Instead, she began to speak. When she did so, something had altered her voice, giving it more of an imperial edge, the deepness of the commander. ”I hereby order you: if I ask you something, you may not attempt to do anything but tell me the truth. If you disobey in any way, be it a lie, an attack, a call for help, or an attempt to flee, you will become unable to move one of your limbs.” She smiled innocently and held up the book she'd just requipped: the Order. ”Not bad for only a few seconds of thought! You're cornered now. So tell me, and you had better tell the truth: what have you done with my friend Ike?” A haughty, pleased air surrounded Indigo. It was the air of someone in control.
A long look from Cecilia pored over Argus. Something was boiling inside him, but it wasn't evil. Resentment was there, sure as death and taxes, but another feeling more fiendish than a demon festered within him. Though no psychiatrist, Cecilia thought she could recognize it. The very same apparition had haunted her mind in her childhood, and even now, long after she'd made her peace with it and laid it to rest, it continued to stab at her from beyond the grave.
This thing was self-pity, and it was incompatible to the life of a noble warrior.
As she observed Argus with the cautious and concerned intrigue of a zoologist studying a wild animal, she could classify what plagued him but not dream up a method of helping him. Despite her best wishes as a young knight wanting to help others, it was beyond her power to try and heal the mind of a monster. Worry had worked its way onto Cecilia's features, but miraculously it now melted into a cautious optimism. I can't help him or integrate him, but I know who might be able to! In her mind were the oddly-shaped silhouettes of a War Sphinx, a naga, an oni, and a Hermit: Ni Rensa, Arivaderci, Enma, and Ludo. Just as she'd said, Frenzy Plant was no stranger to inhuman warriors. As soon as Argus understood that, he'd fit in as well as anyone else.
Holding her hands behind her back, she took a step toward the Crimson Demon. ”I know what'll help take Magni off your mind. I can show you the way to the Doma Flau to meet the rest of the crew. Heisty will let Zander know you passed; you can work your way up the ranks some other time. We ought to arrive in the arena in time to see the final fights of the day. Plus, there are some people I want you to meet. Ready?
Grinning, Nero proceeded with the operation. The insertion proved quick and easy, for he simply reached into Eve's throat, phasing through the skin as if it were a sheet of water, and when he withdrew his hand nothing remained in his clutches. If Nero's companion was being observant, she'd more than likely take note that judging by the confidence and precision with which Nero performed the trait transplant, he'd done such an operation before.
”There! All fixed up, time to give your new voice a whirl? I wonder what the first thing my favorite person in the world is going to say? How wonderful I am? What time it is? How you feel? Go on, slip me some dulcet tones!” Now, it seemed, Nero's recovery from dire events not so long ago was nearly complete. With a genuine, though admittedly still unsettling, smile on his face, and his aptitude for goofing around returned, it appeared that this jaunt to the antiques store had been exactly what he'd needed to forget about the travesty that was Gabriel.
