Baklava

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

No, you're not. You're just a fart that gained sentience.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

The Ship That Sank

Callan | Sander]

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕆𝕗𝕗𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟝

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_{Collab with @Baklava and @RedDusk}

Dead.

Shaky fingers withdrew from the man's neck. She'd decided to check despite the dismal state of his crushed body, hanging onto whatever shreds of hope she could. As long as there was a pulse, there was a chance, right? Christmas or Lily could heal anything, couldn't they? It was worth checking....

Yet once again wide eyes stared forward, as lifeless as those of the boy she'd been fighting. She tried not to look at them. As the sandstorm cleared and the wall fell apart, Callan immediately noticed the other two staff a short distance away, broken and unmoving. She gave a despairing sigh before her attention was drawn towards a bright light in the distance. They were... retreating?

A short-lived relief.

Her breath caught in her throat and she slowly rose to her feet, watching as the wave took form. Up and up and up.... So terrifying and sudden that for a fraction of a second she almost considered letting Misery loose. As if it could do anything to shatter the massive wall of water. She had to remind herself that she'd be fine. The others might not survive, but no matter how hard it hit her, she was durable enough to take it. Her body evidently needed a little more convincing, however, and she took several steps backward out of reflex.

When the inevitable finally happened, she squeezed her eyes shut, widened her stance, and took a gulp of air. The water was more than enough to knock her clean off her feet, drowning all her senses. She let it carry her, hands reaching tentatively for something she could hold onto but anything she managed to grasp instantly crumbled beneath her iron grip. Callan was left gasping for breath a good distance from the cliff's edge. Sand, seaweed, and other such ocean bits had been lodged snuggly in her hair and clothes. She shakily pulled herself to her feet.

Glancing at the two lifeless staff members who had washed up beside her, Callan reached to turn the maid over but paused as soon as her hand met the woman's shoulder. If she wasn't dead before, she certainly was now. She should... check and see if the others were alright. In spite of herself, she turned her over just enough to see bulging eyes and a gaping mouth full of blood and debris. She inhaled sharply and let the woman fall face down again, cursing her decision as she quickly turned away.

A quick headcount as she ran towards the lighthouse and everybody seemed to be accounted for. Worse for wear, but coughing. Which meant breathing. Which meant living. And those in the lighthouse were probably better off than everyone outside had been. She could hear Brent's voice shouting through his cuff, still on from before the wave hit apparently. Still, she'd feel a lot better after a much needed regroup. "Transmit. You guys okay in there? We've got three dead-- staff members." Callan clarified solemnly, "Everybody else out here is alive, but we've got injuries. Don't know how bad yet. End transmission." But that itching feeling that she was forgetting something still kept her eyes searching until she realized who she was looking for.

Sander.

Over the patter of persistent rain and the voices of her peers, Callan could just barely make out the sound of intense splashing. Her eyes fell on Sander's pale figure in the water where he seemed to have been swept down the cliff side and pulled out past the shore. Accompanied by the stolen ferry, the ominous blue light was fading in the distance, but she gave it little thought. A brief moment of uncertainty clouded her judgment and she watched Sander struggle for a moment, waiting for him to stop panicking and start swimming.

"Shit-- really, Sander?!" She ran towards him, soggy shoes sliding down the rocky cliffside. Before reaching the bottom, she gauged the distance and launched herself into a haphazard dive a few yards from where Sander's thrashing was growing weaker.

Even when he was choking down mouthfuls of salt water, Sander still recognized Callan's sweet scent once her hands closed around his shoulders. He stopped his thrashing then, and turned to her instead, arms reaching and grasping for whatever leverage so he could take another gasp of air.

A small burst of air bubbled out of Callan's mouth in surprise as Sander started trying to essentially climb on top of her in his effort to reach the surface. Geez, he was seriously drowning, wasn't he? The lost air had her feeling a bit panicked as well. She quickly adjusted her grip on Sander, trying to shift him to the side as she kicked her legs. She'd never been a phenomenal swimmer, but at the very least she could say she was a strong one now. She kicked as hard as she could, but a wave broke over the pair as soon as they'd reached the surface. Maintaining her grip on the evidently terrified Sander, she started kicking again, headed for shore.

She held on well after her feet could finally touch bottom, dragging him into ankle-deep territory before letting go. On all fours, she coughed and spit, the salty seawater burning her nose and throat.

As soon as she noticed Sander starting to sit up more, she aimed a tempered punch at his arm, pushing him sideways. "Fucking--" she coughed and shivered, "Learn how to swim! You scared the shit out of me!"

Sander only gave her a brief but apologetic look, still far too occupied with retching out the salty water and catching his breaths. Eventually though, he responded, voice hoarse from all the coughing and exposure to the frigid water. The damage could have been worse, if it hadn't been for the natural resilience his power provided. It did shield him from damage when the waves sent him tumbling through the dirt too, turning grievous injuries into superficial scratches and scrapes.

"Sorry."

Slowly, he rose to his feet, offering a hand to Callan. She accepted it with some reluctance. Once on her feet, she rang out her shredded sweatshirt, nose twitching with the occasional sniffle as the cold began to take its toll.

"You're okay, then?"

Meanwhile Sander didn't seem to be very concerned with the soaked state of his clothes. Instead, he just cast red gaze toward where the ferry had made a significant distance, then back at the battered lighthouse.

"We should probably get back."

Callan glanced up at him and sighed. "Right." She'd almost forgotten what it was like to talk to Sander. Then again, he probably wasn't thrilled about the whole needing to be rescued thing. Or maybe he would've been just fine without her... yes, that was definitely a possibility.

Either way, he was right. They desperately needed to regroup. "Let's go then," she said simply before taking off in a sprint towards the steep path back up to the lighthouse. Sander only nodded, before following closely.

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Unwise

Callan | Lawrence | Siena

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𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟝

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_{Collab with @Baklava, @Snagglepuss89, and @PapiTan}

Unwise

As soon as she had reached Lawrence and Hazel, Callan wasted no time in lifting the aberration girl's limp body, slinging her carefully over one shoulder as easily as one might move a sack of styrofoam peanuts. As much as she distrusted Hazel for what she'd done, she of course would never consider leaving her behind. Doing her best to keep Hazel facing away from the sandstorm's source, she extended a hand towards Lawrence, offering to lead the way since the piercing bits of earth, though distracting, didn't seem to cause her actual harm. "Ready?!" she shouted above the abundance of noise.

Lawrence took the hand with relief, glad that they seemed to finally be doing the sensible thing and pulling back. The old adage 'No plan survives contact with the enemy' was one thing, but it seemed like every conflict they involved themselves in ended up in an uncontrollable cluster fuck that finished worse than it began. They had, seemingly, accomplished nothing again, although that was hardly surprising given who they were trying to take down. There was a reason he had stopped Zoe from running out, now in spite of that he wasn't even sure she was still alive.

Still, a few of them were, and they needed to salvage what they could.

“Yeah, let's get out of here quick as we can.”

Callan gave a curt nod and pulled Lawrence to his feet, shifting her grip to his arm. She held on tightly, pulling him forward at an almost uncomfortably fast pace considering the piercing sandstorm. The lighthouse wasn't too far away, allowing the three mages to reach the door without much trouble otherwise. Sand and storm violated the room as soon as Callan turned the knob and the heavy door flew open with a loud crash. Laying Hazel down, she made quick work of closing it. With a shuddering sigh, she turned around to survey the room. The bloodied yet uninjured Lily stood amidst the majority of her classmates, one new face, and a few staff members. Only a few.... "Oh-- fuck!" she gasped.

Honestly, it was a bit of a relief to Lawrence seeing how many of their classmates were left. While he wasn't going to say their lives were worth more than the people on the island, he still at least had a more personal connection to the team than the locals. While not everybody had gathered there yet, a lot of the ones that would have the hardest time surviving had, and that was almost as good as he could hope for.

So, in contrast to the mage beside him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Looks like most of us made it out.”

Most, but not all. Not a number Callan felt satisfied with. Especially considering how many they'd already lost.

"There's some staff missing," she said, tense, "I can't just leave them out there."

“Do you even know where they're at?”

Most people Lawrence would oppose leaving- and even would actively prevent from doing so. Callan wasn't exactly someone that was easy to kill under normal circumstances though, and he wasn't exactly keen on abandoning people to die even if he himself wouldn't make the attempt under the current circumstances. He was keenly aware of what his limits were.

Callan paused, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to her. She remembered where they'd been. Then that aberration boy appeared and the sandstorm picked up. She hadn't seen any of them since.

"No, but I'll find 'em. They can't be far. Probably just couldn't find their way back to the lighthouse in the storm."

“Yeah, but if they can't find their way to a large building in the storm, how are you going to locate them? You can't stumble around blind Callan.”

Ungrateful was perhaps one word to describe the look Callan shot Lawrence in response to his remark. With a derisive scoff, Callan turned and reached for the doorknob.

"I'll be fine," she said sharply, "Got you and Hazel back here without any trouble, didn't I?"

Another group of people that had made it, and Siena couldn't help but feel some faint surge of relief, but the Arbiter had to flick her eyes through the faces. People she recognized as teammates, a few stray faces that were blurry-but-familiar memories of the estate, a face she didn't quite recognize. Was that safe? A cool reaction to the chaos at hand. There were still faces missing. Zoe, for one. Chris too, but in their situation, he would have changed forms, right? A dragon was more durable than a human in most aspects. Crimson eyes flicked back up to take another headcount. Hazel was unconscious, and--oh no.

'What is she doing?' The thought hadn't even managed to clear before Victor's influence took over. A sharp lash of pain, carefully measured, carefully imitated, and calmly dispensed as though it were simply a scolding. Not enough to completely shut someone down, but enough to stop the average person. Victor's influence, her actions. Siena felt her eyes widen a fraction as she registered exactly what she was doing. Surprise and horror melded into a new being, stronger and more vicious than either one on its own. The girl took a sharp, quiet intake of breath, started to remove the sensation, but then felt a chilling demand stop the action.

'Continue. They'll never listen if you don't show them how monstrous you can be.' It was hard to distinguish whether those were her own thoughts, but it was easy enough to obey them. If she could have averted her gaze from her target, she would have. Didn't want to see the reaction. Didn't want anyone to see that she might revel in creating a new tapestry that they would never know. Instead, the brunette clenched her fists, grit her teeth, and wished she hadn't started what she didn't want to finish.

It took a moment before Callan realized the bad feeling as her hand wrapped around the door's handle was far more literal than she was comfortable with. She froze, retracting her hand in alarm as if the metal could be the source. What the hell was that? Like the distant memory of a dull ache in her muscles. Her previous injury? No, not that. Brow furrowed in confusion, she reached for the door again.

The feedback was...not nearly enough. Siena shouldn't have been surprised, but the brunette couldn't stop herself from blinking once or twice in surprise. In the back of her head, quietly, there was the soft influence again. Victor's distance, her father's influence, a desire left behind to fix, protect, heal. Had Siena not stopped the second attempt before it could start, she was certain that Vale wouldn't have hesitated to increase the output. That she wouldn't have hesitated to let it get worse to prove what she could, would do if she had to.

"Callan, wait." The words came out flat again, not quite there again. The gap between herself and her emotions. Crimson eyes didn't tear away from her roommate, holding back the instinctive urge to use pain to convince instead of words. Not her. Or...her? Lines were blurring too quickly. "It's...unwise to go back out there."

'Because I can't guarantee that I won't go further.'

The feeling came again, followed by Siena's voice. Even then, Callan didn't put two and two together until she turned around and noticed her fellow arbiter staring at her with crimson eyes. A look of stunned betrayal crossed her face before she could try and mask it. Unwise? Zoe... Hazel... now Siena? Her temper flared, but she resolved not to address exactly why. Now wasn't the time.

"I'm not letting anyone else get left behind!" Callan retorted stubbornly, "So whatever the hell you're trying to do, you can stop now."

"It's not a matter of leaving them behind." Siena did her best to ignore the look of betrayal that crossed Callan's face, felt a pang of relief over the fact that Victor couldn't feel things like guilt or remorse without a thick blanket stifling it, and kept her own expression as level as possible. Necessary. This was absolutely necessary, she told herself. She withdrew the pain, held herself in check, and crafted the next words with carefully calculated precision. "With Hazel unconscious, our only immediate offensive potential if we meet the group from the estate is Sander, and I doubt that what people are combat ready are going to be enough to protect those that aren't."

Crimson eyes flicked toward the door, thought of the people outside briefly.

"Chris is probably not foolish enough to stay out there without becoming a dragon. That should be enough to protect and retreat with the others." After all, he'd already carried three on his back once. There was little doubt in the Arbiter's mind that he would be able to manage it again if necessary. Cautiously, the girl crafted a lie. A pristine one, immediate and unflinching. "The strongest barrier I could produce couldn't stop one shot from the group at the mansion. If we come across them, we'll need you."

Siena spoke and Callan listened, though she was taken a bit off guard by her way of speaking. The idea of putting so little faith in the other offensive mages and yet so much in Chris alone wasn't enough to budge her resolve, nor her expression. Siena's final statement did, however, carry with it a visual impact. Brent and Siena had witnessed what was on the other side of the tunnel. What had killed Greg and likely several soldiers by now. It was a strategic retreat after all. It wasn't ideal, but what else could they do?

But still-- it didn't feel right. Callan couldn't get the image out of her head. A short, measly row of mages in black and white standing between them and an unknown enemy. Risking their lives to try and keep them safe. Was it vain to assume they weren't capable of handling themselves? She grit her teeth, knuckles white. Maybe it was the wrong decision... but it was how she had to do it. Nobody else needed to die here. She could do both.

"I understand... but I can't. I'm sorry, but I have to go! They need help!" she declared, trying to keep a level head. Stay. Go. She could do both. "I'll be right back!" At that, Callan spun back to face the door, wrenching it open.

'No, no, no!' Everything fell apart in one fell swoop. Siena tried her best to piece things back together, Victor demanded that she either let go or cut loose. She could stop Callan. Probably. If she stopped holding back how far she was willing to go. If she dropped everyone in the immediate area and sacrificed control of output, then even with Cal out of sight, then...! The Arbiter felt the surge attempt to rise, felt herself plucking at strands of memories of how many times she'd experimented with the sensations that she could create while Vale was guiding her, and then everything ground to a screeching halt when her attention was brutally wrenched back to ground level by the sound of their cuffs coming to life with voice.

"They have Angel, at least... I think they do. Anyway, I have a plan. Though, it could easily kill Angel if they do have her, so if anyone has a better plan, share it. Otherwise, Chris, I'll need you to land near the lighthouse. Prepare for takeoff immediately. Zoe and Kusari, you'll need to be ready to jump on immediately."

What?

She had nowhere else to turn that surge, so she pulled it in, turned it against herself, and bit her lip until she tasted copper, grimaced and swore under her breath as she just as quickly dampened it into a dull ache that kept her where she needed to be. Too late. Callan was gone, lost in the static of the outside and far beyond her ability to accurately pinpoint with Victor's draining presence, and the others were going to be pulled into a suicide mission just as reckless as the one she'd agreed to with Brent. Damn it. Her fingers scraped at the screen of her phone, the dull ache sharpening into something more severe to hold back another wave of heat that threatened to close the distance that Victor had created. Through grit teeth, she searched for a new mark as the crimson started to slip back into the storm.

As soon as she'd swung the door shut behind her, pulling against the harsh sands with ease thanks to her super strength, Callan bolted towards the place she last remembered seeing any of the staff members. It was a relief not to feel the unsettling itch of Siena's ability as she left. Perhaps that wasn't the best sign that she had Siena's blessing, but it was better than being attacked. She was getting pretty fed up with having to keep an eye out for both her foes and friends. Allison's transmission alone was certainly enough to send her nerves into a tumultuous offset, however. What kind of plan was that? Jump on Chris and start flying to the ferry? They had no idea what was over there!

One thing at a time!, she urged herself with a curt shake of her head, resuming her run through the raging sands, searching for any sign of white ruffles and black fabric.

:: BAҞLAVA'S ARŦ Sħ㊉P :: 0/5 ｓｌｏｔｓ ｏｐｅｎ :: temporarily closed~

@shylarah Ganbatte. I believe in you.

:: BAҞLAVA'S ARŦ Sħ㊉P :: 0/5 ｓｌｏｔｓ ｏｐｅｎ :: temporarily closed~

@shylarah Hey! No arguments here! I'm more than happy to draw for full price~ mwahahaha~



(but also thanks for calling my art pretty aerlkghblaerbgh)

—(••[ 𝕎𝕀𝕊ℍ𝔼𝔸𝕋𝔼ℝ ]••)—

Rhohan a la carte

(To go, please.)

Sander | Callan

𝕎𝕖𝕕: 𝕆𝕔𝕥. 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘 / / 𝔹𝕒𝕝𝕕 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕀𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕 / / 𝕃𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 / / ~𝟘𝟝𝟛𝟘
_{Collab with @RedDusk and @Baklava}

With his enemy bisected and bleeding beneath him, Sander did not hesitate, especially when his gaping gut wound took far longer to heal that he would like. Leaning forward, he bit cleanly into the exposed neck, slurping down the still-warm blood that oozed out. The other Aberration was already dead, so his blood had lost much of its potency, but Sander would make do. He could not waste the strength. It barely took a minute for the corpse to run dry; Sander’s power had soaked up even the pooling blood on the forest floor. Rejuvenated, the blood mage rose to his feet, maimed body forgotten at his feet. His armor was falling to pieces as well, so he took it off, letting the fragments slowly absorbed back into his skin.

Then his eyes fell on Callan's battered body. His breaths hitched as he leaned down, pressing a feather-light touch to her shoulder. There was just simply too much blood. He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t dare.

“C-Callan?”

Fear spurred the pounding in Callan's chest as she watched the razor sharp claws of her enemy rise to strike. Enduring a fate similar to Sander... she wasn't so sure she was capable of fighting through it like the vampire aberration had managed to do. Amethyst eyes still wet with reluctant tears widened as Allison's blade made contact and her own axe fell. Through racing thoughts, adrenaline, and distressed nerves, a single question flooded her mind.

Why?

Callan stared down at the remarkably human looking "monster" just before the sandstorm forced her to shield her eyes and turn away on reflex. The lifeless eyes and stark black X, glistening with rain, was burned into her memory, however. Just face for her to add to the collection she'd so far accrued. Why did it have to be this way? Why were they attacking? Why couldn't they be on the same side? Why was this so infuriating?

She shivered as the pain of her wounds brought her back to the now. They needed to get out of here before anyone else showed up. Hissing through her teeth as the sandstorm seemed to exacerbate the gashes, she barely managed to make out the figure of Sander crouched over their enemy's corpse. She grimaced at the sight. Waste not want not, she supposed.

Pushing herself further off the ground with her arms, the stress pumping through her veins propelled her to try and stand. The pain was almost worse than the sensation of feeling her own detached and raw flesh move against itself as the severed muscles failed to function in sync with one another.

"Agh!" she exclaimed, falling back into a sitting position immediately. Sander's touch might've gone unnoticed if he hadn't spoken. She released a shaky breath, amethyst eyes locking with two glowing red irises before falling to the closing hole in Sander's chest. The reminder of how effective Sander's self healing was provided its own small bit of relief in the midst of the ongoing chaos.

"Hey, Sandy," she forced a weakly reassuring smiled when she noticed his gaze tracing her injuries, "We-- ngh-- we gotta get outta here. C-can you get Hazel and I to a healer? I can't...." She looked down at her legs, seeping blood into the mud at an alarming rate.

The mention of Hazel's name caused Sander to lift his gaze and glanced toward where Lawrence was crouching over her, ripped cloth stemming the flow of blood. Having just drank quite a bit, Sander didn't fully trust himself with the task, but he also knew the stakes; just from the thickness of the scents alone, he knew that he had to get both of them back to safety, and fast. His throat tightened, suddenly too dry and his heart thudded in anticipation. The fire was waiting for a single lapse in his concentration, the traitorous thing. He would not let it stop him this time.

"Okay." -Sander nodded, because he thought he should -"Alright."

Leaning toward, he took both of Callan's arms and wrapped them around his neck, urging her silently to hold on while his other arm reached around to support her lower back. She held on tightly, wincing throughout the motion.

Callan had meant to thank him, but with every pulse her strength felt like it beginning to dwindle, her breathing, more labored, and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. All that escaped her instead was a restrained groan. Bleeding again-- why couldn't she be better than this? Sleep was beginning to sound like a fair idea. A dark, still, quiet where nothing burned and the looming stress of death overcoming not only herself, but everyone else would be a muffled thought. But she held on, willing herself to remain conscious, though completely missing the thin black thread that moved towards her and Sander through the raging sands. The wounds faded, though some fatigue lingered.

"Lily," Callan said, loosening her grip around Sander's neck and letting her feet plant themselves on the ground. She turned to try and see Hazel. Visibility was too low and she and Lawrence were too far, but it was probably a safe bet Lily had healed Hazel, too. Now to figure out their next course of action. The top of the lighthouse was almost completely lost from her sight. No sign of Angelique. No ferry. No vehicles. How were they going to get out of here?

"Pull back. We're retreating back to the tunnels." Ernie's voice buzzed through the cuff, just audible over the augmented storm.

She'd take it.

"Sander, help me make sure everybody gets back inside the lighthouse. Time to go!" Callan shouted, running towards Hazel and Lawrence.

Sander simply looked at Callan as her skin knitted together and her wounds close, his nostrils flared slightly to catch any scent that could contradict the healing. There was none. Callan was fully healed. As well as Lawrence and Hazel. Quickly, Sander took a few steps back now that Callan could stand by herself, giving her some space. When their order came from Ernie through the cuff, Sander raised his eyebrows, clearly confused. Weren't they to get out of here? Wouldn't retreating defeat that purpose? He turned, narrowed eyes stared off into the distance while his senses worked. The sand storm beat harmlessly against his skin, but its rage paled when compared to his own. What it did though, was obscuring his vision, making him rely on his blood sense.

When Callan finally decided for herself and ran off, Sander gave her back a silent nod before dashing off on his own as well, heading toward the scents of Zoe and Kusari. Theirs were the closest.

:: BAҞLAVA'S ARŦ Sħ㊉P :: 0/5 ｓｌｏｔｓ ｏｐｅｎ :: temporarily closed~

@DearTrickster LMAO. For a minute there I thought you might be commissioning me to draw some twilight fanart and my brain went "FUCK!"

Yes, ofc. Just shoot me a PM with the details and your paypal email so I can send you an invoice.

:: BAҞLAVA'S ARŦ Sħ㊉P :: 0/5 ｓｌｏｔｓ ｏｐｅｎ :: temporarily closed~

Hereby offering a 50% discount for the first 2 guild members to come at me with the following pass code:

Your prices are too high. Give me a freakin' discount, Bak. Also, Twilight is my favorite movie.

(3 piece limit, if you want to order multiple works at once)

---

Update:
ONLY ONE LEFT.

:: BAҞLAVA'S ARŦ Sħ㊉P :: 0/5 ｓｌｏｔｓ ｏｐｅｎ :: temporarily closed~

Made a wee price adjustment~

:: BAҞLAVA'S ARŦ Sħ㊉P :: 0/5 ｓｌｏｔｓ ｏｐｅｎ :: temporarily closed~

@POOHEAD189 Heyy! Thanks-- that'd be great! Yeah, just let me know!