Blizz

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Ali fucked up big time grabbing the guy who can make Apparitions shit their pants

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

@Estylwen

That's a nice abstraction you've got there

Wouldn't it be a shame if someone cast a certain spell to make it stop working...

Parahumans: Earth Drega

@Silver Carrot

Thanks for your interest, would you mind joining the discord? We’d like to discuss your ideas and see what we can do with them.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Sully, Alizee, and the Greenwood Coven

Flowers and Canvases

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Now that everyone was trickling out, they clearly had their plans for tackling this whole coven murder mystery. Some of them were going to a strip club for reasons Stormy didn’t fully understand. He got here after everyone else had sorted out their plans and their differences. But Sully was a good guy. He was going to stick with Sully and figure out who he needed to punch later. He wasn’t going to ride with Britney if he had a choice, so he hopped into the car with the resident Beer Baron.

He had his own ride, but it was in a parking lot on the other end of town. it was closer to the club than him, ironically. ”I’ll keep my hands to myself like I said, but I sincerely do not feel confident in her doing that.”

He was quiet on the way to the club. It was never Stormy’s scene. He was more of a quiet, outdoor patio dinner sort of guy, so pulling up to the club and seeing a fight between a bunch of people and… Oh good lord, why did some of these these people seem too familiar for comfort?

In the parking lot, there were several people all gathered around in a fight. And of course, Britney was over there with Alizee. Of all people, he didn’t expect that woman to show up after all the things her Apparition made her do. He could see the despicable little creature from the window of Sully’s car. God, this was a disaster.

He stepped out of the vehicle and walked over, catching the tail end of their conversation. ”Yes, that coven. Now, Alizee, do you remember me at all? Because I remember you and the people you hunted, so I’m very inclined to believe them when they say you attacked one of their friends. What were you thinking?” that’s twice today, that Stormy has come out of the woodwork and made himself the center of attention.

After seeing Sully run over to help one of the strangers, and after Alizee ran into the arms of the other girl with a habit of hurting people, Stormy took a breath and directed his attention to Naomi. ”You’re right. I’m sorry about your friend over there. Alizee should have a handle on herself… You know about the Sycamore. I feel like so should remember you, have we met before? I haven’t been in town since things broke down, back in the day.”

Hopefully, some actual dialogue could smooth this over. ”…And do you have any idea why there’s a child here, by any chance?” He was trying his absolute best to ignore the fucking property damage.

Interactions: Drake, Sloane, Kali and Luca

Flowers and Canvases

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”If any of you need me, I’ll be catching up with Drake and Luca. They’re easy to hunt down. Tomorrow, we’ll be better-adjusted as a group,” He assured Auri, before walking over and flipping off a few of the lights in the shop. Just dark enough that it was an inconvenience. Auri no doubt knew what he was doing before he did it, as Jack stood up taller, and teetered backwards into a one man trust fall. He vanished in a puff of black smoke, one of his oldest tricks, the very one that he used to give the Stygian Snake hell back in the good old day.

Jack suddenly appeared somewhere downtown, in a wide alleyway between two buildings. It was darker, and he had to look around just to be sure no one was on his tail suddenly. With the coast clear, he walked out and down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. Jack looked through window after window, until he eventually spotted a car that looked like Sloan’s in a DQ parking lot. That was definitely a clear indication that Drake and Luca were probably inside. He stepped through the doors and headed straight to the counter, and ordered something warm… and something cold. Looking back over the seats, he could see them both sitting down and eating along with Kali and Sloane. Good. He got his food, paid in some of the most battered dollars anyone could spend, and took a seat by them.

Thankfully, the Blind tended to perceive Jack’s magical hand as flesh and blood, so long as they didn’t look to close. If they did, it would be easy to note the lack of nails, or veins around the wrist. The four at the table, however, would see it for what it was as Jack say something down by Drake’s food. The coveted, world-renown Large Peanut Buster. ”Consider it a peace offering, for ambushing you earlier,” He said to Drake, obviously joking. Or was he?

Jack sat down at the table directly across from them, taking a bite out of a chicken strip. ”I thought you’d be here. I overheard what you two were saying about the coven. Reforming the coven doesn’t sound bad on principle… Knowing what all of us know at the moment. But the problem I see with that is that we simply can’t reform what we had then. You heard what Auri tried to pitch: A family. The unfortunate fact is that most of us have our own families, and while it is quite heartwarming to see all of you again, everyone experienced life in their own ways. The old coven formed out of necessity. What were facing now is different, and we should treat is as such.”

He may or may not have been eavesdropping on their chat while we waited in line. ”I believe Auri could be a dependable leader in theory, but not on her own. As you mentioned, there is a reason why covens have a chain of command and not a dictator. If a proper example were to be set, then the rest of us will see that and follow better than claiming we’re still a family.”

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

If only there was a certain Void-fairing bastard who could make this worse

Parahumans: Earth Drega

Phantoms danced around both of them, dragging their tattered remains along the ground in the hope that they could come back from this. Beams of green energy were streaking across the smoking horizon, but they were not Laserman’s. How he wished they were from Laserman right now. This would’ve been so much easier, if he was still alive. So much cleaner.

”I warned you,” Thunk. A throwing knife flew from Grandmaster’s fingers, sinking through Confessor’s hand and impaling it to the ruined car he slumped against. The villain screamed, his voice strained, and he looked the old hero in the eyes through that idiotic mask of his.

His eyes went down to the road, but he did not need to see Grandmaster to know the weight of his hate. ”You never scared me, you don’t scare me now. You’ve always been a snake, and you always will be! Killing me won’t bring her b-”

There was not enough time for Confessor to blink before a sword was pulled from its scabbard to split his chest wide open. Blood sprayed him from torn veins and arteries, and yet Grandmaster was cold. Clinical, in his application of the swing. He wanted to see this wretched bastard, this maggot bleed slowly. Wisdom flowed from his mind, down through his hand and into his sword from unseen places, telling him exactly where to place his next strike for the cleanest kill; An afterimage, yet to happen and waiting. But he did not. He simply pointed the sword down at Confessor’s throat, the slightest movement would break the skin. One flick of his wrist, and everything would be over. Blood pooled around the villain. Deep down, Confessor knew that Grandmaster was drawing this out, but he wasn’t stupid. He was always the smarter one.

Confessor jerked his impaled hand, hoping it would dislodge the knife. But it only tore the otherwise perfectly sealed wound, adding to the puddle of blood.

”Laserman,” He flicked his sword downwards, and split open Confessor’s collarbone. He screamed again, quieter.

”Karnstein,” His shoulder.

”Nomad,” His jaw.

”Rimerunner, Savant, Bastion!” He stabbed the sword into Confessor’s weak body, puncturing his lungs and liver without aiming. One wound for all five of the deceased Wards. He kept going, slashing open wound after wound, until the number accounted for the other thirteen heroes lost in this battle.

”All dead. All of their families left to grieve, because of you.”

Confessor was bleeding like a stuck pig, and all of his phantoms could only helplessly watch their master’s life slip away. There were over 40 of them littering the street, and Grandmaster carved each and every one of them up like Christmas dinners. Confessor coughed up blood, staring at his soon-to-be murderer with blank, glazed eyes. Scar tissue mottled his face, standing out over warm brown skin. Hellstar got him good a few days ago, and he had been rendered blind ever since. It was a damn shame, too. He had hoped, even at this point, that the last thing he’d get to see was Grandmaster's face.

”You know they’ll… You-” Blood caught in his throat, he spat it up over Grandmaster’s shoes.

”They’ll never see you the same way. They’ll… Know about you, one day. It’s your turn now, Ramon. Isaac will find you.”

”The only thing he will find, Confessor, is your corpse on his doorstep. This is the end, I am never coming back.”

Grandmaster raised his sword overhead, and let out all of his rage with one more swing.

”You should have stayed in Arizona, little brother.”

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PRT Headquarters, 8:37AM
June 19, 2021

Director Valerie Foster strode through the public section of the PRT HQ. It was connected to her office in a wraparound construction, so she could see from her office window that a small crowd was forming out front. News reporters and journalists looking to get a glimpse of the newest heroes. Little did any of them know that none of the kids were even in the same building at the moment. It was currently 8am, and the building had been closed to give the illusion that something important was happening here. It was entirely unnecessary, since they were all meeting in the Protectorate building, and absolutely no one could show up there unless granted special access. This, however, was done intentionally to give the press something positive to latch on. She knew, better than most in this godforsaken city, that it was so much easier to make progress when people believed in the good of that progress. When they wanted it.

She stopped, straightened her tie and ensured her gloves were on tight. No one knew why the director wore them, but the incredibly soft material, black as ink, seemed to match well with her charcoal three-piece suit. She was the definition of professional. And so, as a professional, she approached the journalists and the camera-toting press. Immediately, she was flagged down, put on the spot and questioned. Where are the Wards? Are they forming their team today? Is Tandem keeping her identity public? All manners of questions that were either curveballs to wring out extra information, invasive, or simply innocent came forth. And the director embraced all of them.

”I am afraid that I can’t answer many questions. At the moment, the Wards are preparing for their first assignment as the next generation of heroes. There will be plenty of time to speak with them once they’ve had the opportunity to adjust to their new lives.” For one or two, this wasn’t as new as the director was describing, but it was bad form to talk about their experience working outside the PRT’s jurisdiction.

“Is it true that the Wards have a mind controller on their team?” Someone in the crowd asked.

Director Foster offered the young man who put the question forth a rare smile. ”Mind control is a rumor, thankfully. No, the Ward known as Ethos does not manipulate the minds of others. She simply allows them to see the error of their ways.” A flowery, polite way to describe the manipulation of one’s moral compass.

“How will the PRT contend with the backlash from reinstating child soldiers?” Another, older man with a certain tone in his voice proposed a rather loaded question. An anti-caper, she assumed. He went low, so she went high.

”There is a misconception among the public that the Protectorate trains children to be soldiers, to fight wars, the Endbringers and so on. What we do here, is train them to use their powers responsibly, to set an example for future generations. To inspire their generation to reach out in their most vulnerable moments. And for that, I believe wholeheartedly that we simply won’t receive backlash.”

“Even after the last Wards team disbanded?” A woman with a notebook asked, “Many people still remember the deaths from Confessor’s rampage. And no one could forget what happened to Karnstein…”

Everyone in the crowd fell silent for a moment. Karnstein’s death was particularly grizzly. The man who asked that accustational question even had the common sense to feel guilty. Valerie read the room, and simply nodded. ”We all remember what Confessor did to us. We’ve all had someone taken from us by his attack. But Karnstein laid her life down to save others. She wanted this city to live on, and I know that wherever she is now, she’s smiling.”

That seemed to satisfy them all. The best part was that she didn’t have to lie about it.

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Protectorate Headquarters, 8:42AM

While Director Foster worked a crowed, the real business was happening one building over. The Wards were given directions and an order to be here at their central meeting room at 8:45 in the morning, in their new gear, with the special access credentials they were issued to get in the building. Their meeting place was a large, spacious area with white walls and one-way windows that overlooked the entire complex. Massive computer screens were available for multiple people to work with at a time, along with chairs and a couch or two. The opposite wall held a large flatscreen tv, and all the cool consoles that the kids played with these days. That was Axiom's idea. Doors led out into a hall that connected to their living spaces, as well as a decently sized kitchen they could eat in. The Ward's wing of the building was built to house them indefinitely, as several of them had home situations that were less than sufficient.

Special consideration had been given to accommodate the powers of Richter, Shattercrash and Watson. The walls were made with a special tinker-made compound that absorbed 100% of any impacts, while behaving like containment foam for anyone who was on the inside. The Wards, were, of course, not explicitly made aware of this. After all, why would they be in the walls?

The Protectorate's best were lined up here. Nightstalker, the case 53 with purple skin, green eyes and a long cape of prehensile flesh, couldn’t help but smile. Axiom, the physics-shattering tinker, had climbed out of her suit and was down to her more mobile costume, a black and purple jumpsuit lined with glowing energy, and a cybernetic helmet that made her look like an astronaut.

And of course, the leader of them stood ramrod straight with his hands folded behind his back. His costume was different from the other two. Nightstalker simply wore body armor, and Axiom looked ready to go to space, but Grandmaster wore a simply white suit, with a gray undershirt, black tie, and a slightly unsettling mask adorned with a crown. At his waist were two swords sheathed away, and a more perceptive person could see a roll of throwing knives tucked under his sleeve.

”They’ll be here any minute now. I hope they’re ready,” Axiom said, through her helmet’s radio.

”Of course they are,” Nightstalker croaked, in an inhumanly deep voice. ”They’re trained for this now, and we’re working with them. They’ll do fine, I’m sure.”

”Indeed they will. Our city needs it.” Grandmaster waited, patiently, for the first Ward to walk in. The Vice Director was supposed to be here by now. It didn't look good if he got here after the children did.

Any second now...

Inferno - STRIKE THE MATCH! - Concluded

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Jack Hawthorne

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Location: Limbo
Skills: Magical Expertise, Extraplanar Navigation
Spells: Twilight Doorway
Outfit

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Prudence didn’t want to stick with them. That much was clear, but bickering between themselves wouldn’t solve anything. ”Please, all of you. She did not ask for this anymore than we did. She has a right to be frustrated and approach this on her own terms. Now, where were we?” He took their hands, and felt their power feed through him. His own magic spun through the circuit like electricity through wires. It was exhilarating. He saw memories of someone running from someone else… Purifiers. Someone he would feel grateful never to deal with, most likely.

"I will open our way out, bare with me..." He focused his magic into a point out before him, and slowly manifested a swirling disc of dark energy. He had to focus so much power into one spell that it took more time than usual. But gradually, the portal expanded into its proper shape. But while this was happening, their memories and thoughts blurred further until, for a brief moment, everyone experienced Jack's memories...

"Our passage has been secured. The portal will close shortly, if you're coming with us, then go now."

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Jack trudged through the shallows of the Obsidian Ocean. He was up to his ankles in inky black water, and it didn’t help that Reza went limp hours ago. He wasn’t moving anymore, and Jack dropped him.

”Hey- Hey! I need you to get up, the rift is just over that mountain. Come on, man, I know you’re not dead. Reza- Hey! Wake up!” He shook the dark skinned boy like he owed him money. Jack could feel his pulse from under his shirt, even through the cold water, thick as oil, that lapped over him.

Reza was twitching, in his slumber. This had been the third time in the last hour he went comatose. The second time was longer than the third. No matter how many spells Jack bad cast, he couldn’t will the darkness out of him. Black patches continued to spread across his skin, almost like vitiligo if it was alive. Fear gripped Jack.

It was creeping up Reza’s face at this very second…

”Hhhh… Jaaaa-“ Reza’s voice sounded wrong. It was like he was three people speaking at once.

He opened his eyes, and they were hollow. What would’ve been a pair of hazel diamonds that captivated Jack for hours were poisoned, black wells of tears. He held up a hand, lazily, and brushed it against Jack’s face. He could feel Jack’s heart hammering like a machine gun.

”Get up- The rift is open! We’ll get you back home! You- We can get there. The dark’s not that deep yet- You have ti-“

”No.”

He froze. A world that was alive in all the ways a person could be stood still.

”Iii- This is it… I’m sorry.”

]”No! NO! I’m going to drag you out of here by any means necessary, do you hear me?! You- You’re not dying!” His voice cracked and wavered. In Jack’s hands, he gripped Reza as if his hands alone were all that kept the boy within the land of the living.

”Stand up!”

Reza… Chuckled.

”I can’t… I… I’m slipping. It’s happen-en-eningnggg…” Reza’s hold on reality was shifting like leaves on water. He was not dying… He was changing.

”Go. Yoou know what has to hhaaaappen. You’re so muccch stronger than you think, Jack… Yyyyyou‘ll be okay without meeee.”

The words that left Reza’s mouth grew more garbled by the second. Jack stared into his eyes, searching desperately with every fiber of his being, for some trace of humanity that hadn’t been twisted.

But even Jack Hawthorne knew when it was too late.

”You… You can’t leave me here alone. You can’t- We were going to see it all together. The House of Ideas, Jarnvidr, the Astral- You wanted to see the Astral Plane, remember?! We’ll stay there for a century, come on- Get up… Please…”

Reza’s hand slowly slid down Jack’s face, down to his shoulder, and to his left hand. It was warm, where Reza felt frigid. His head tilted back.

His other hand passed something into it, and he kept both hands wrapped around Jack’s tightly.

”I know hooowwww brave you arree. And I know that you’ll be okay. Jack, thhhiisiss goodbyeee… Run.”

Run. He told Jack to run.

”…I- Run from-“

Reza’s head snapped back up. Between the tears smearing against Jack’s face, he failed to notice the umbral rot had fully overtaken Reza.

His eyes were now two burning pits of white light… There was no human flesh. Only shadows made tangible by magic. An ear-shattering scream split the silent air, as Jack’s love swung a clawed, jagged hand at his shoulder.

Blood sprayed everywhere, and Jack was tossed backwards, clutching what remained of to be his shoulder, as his severed arm sunk into the dark sand.

The monster stood and set its gaze on Jack. He was no longer Reza.

”No.. Don’t- Please don’t make me do this.”

---

There's no place like home.

The portal lead them out of Limbo, to be sure. But this was not Earth. The landscape was cast in a somber, dim light. Where the Sorcerers Supremes arrived was a mountainous, autumnal valley, atop a rocky hill where the very wind felt alive. The grass beneath their felt as though it would crumble away into ash, yet it was very much there. Flecks of color danced across their vision, breaking up what seemed to be an optical illusion of grey and visible light. This was the Everdark; the Land between Lands, the shadow of the universe, and the realm in which Jack Hawthorne was nothing short of a god. A thousand wizards could wear the Cloak of Levitation, and work in unison, only to fall short of breaching this place. It lacked the hellish danger of Limbo, and the familiarity of Earth, but all around them, those who passed through could feel as though they were being watched by some ambivalent force. It was beautiful, in an otherworldly way.

The strangest part was perhaps their ability to see past their hands. If someone looked into where the sky should be, all they would find was nothingness. It was like trying to picture a color that couldn't exist. And yet there were phantom images of birds passing through the void, as if it was there for them, and only them. Jack stepped through the portal, only to find that they were here, and not on Earth. And he was confused.

"This... This can't be right. This is the Twilight Pass. We're in the Everdark, I did not open the portal here. But we can work with this- I know where we are, there is a rift that leads to Earth right down th-"

He turned and looked down the hill, and thought he'd simply be pointing at his house, the only trace of familiarity in this place. And there it stood, but it was surrounded by an army of Green Eyed Ones. Hundreds of them, duplicated over, and over, and over.

"Oh, you bastards... That is my home! I ran into the Green Eyed One before we all met at Witchfire's castle... Immediately after it ate Klara's soul. I banished it here, because I didn't think we could've won in our condition at the time, but now it seems we have a problem. They've multiplied, no doubt because of the poisoning nature of this place. But this is perfect. One of them, possibly all of them, are in possession of Klara's soul. Down there is a permanent rift that will take us directly to Earth, and they are in the way. I'd like to make things right with her while we're here."

The portal would close in roughly 20 seconds.

"I do apologize for this detour, it was not planned. However, it won't set us back once we're down there. Shall we?"

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

I have not narrowed the region down properly, as of yet. But powerful magic was used.

We’ll need to get closer. Rest, Duuli and I will scout. Carnperra forms.

Salaketh was stern, as far as Inquisitors went. He was the one who they all looked to for stability, and direction in the field. The old Glen stood, while Duuli hid their encampment with a mound of rocks and mud. To the outside, it simply looked like a hill after her handiwork. Once the two had their armor off, Tural laid his hand on each of them. They became a pair of predatory birds with dark green and brown feathers, ideal for blending in with the forest. With their wing structures, it was one of the fastest avians on the planet, hunting at any time it was awake. Perfect for emergencies.

Duuli took off first, and Salaketh followed her. Tural relayed directions while they flew.

He thinks it’s the child that ran from us a year ago. What are the chances? Duuli asked.

Significant. No other enclave in the Ascendancy, Mythadia or the Sovereignty has reported a rogue with his description. Reports are nonexistent, he hasn’t moved anywhere, if at all.

I find it hard to believe that a child has eluded every Inquisitor in the known world. Either we’re negligent, or he’s too competent. We may be walking into something dreadful, Salaketh.

Then you’ll keep your wits about you.

They couldn’t shift back like Tural, so all they could do was scout for anything suspicious. The forest was dead silent. Every nocturnal predator gave them a wide berth at the sight of airborne hunters. The woods in this dense valley of an area blurred past them like a day-old hangover. Salaketh wanted this child. He was a professional in all the ways an Inquisitor should’ve been, and more. He slept less than his squad all did combined. He always carried most of the burden when they needed to resist magic. He was the anchor, he was their rock.

And right now, he was some bastard child’s reckoning. Duuli caught an updraft up above a clearing and used the moonlight to scan by a river. The rogue couldn’t have gotten far. She saw a light tucked into the hills, and glided down further. She landed on a roof of thatch, clay and timber. Behind her was a dissonantly lush garden, and before her was a young S’tor, carrying a slain rakthir over his shoulders.

Walking beside him was a being with the silhouette of an Iriad. But they were wreathed in fire. Salaketh felt Duuli’s confusion, and flew overhead, landing in a tree. The confusion was reciprocated.

That can’t be real. Back in Bestik, there was an Iriad Inquisitor who told stories of one of their kind who was perpetually burning, citing it as an old legend to keep children from acting out. And Duuli had heard the myth of travelers running into one before.

But this was real.

Rogue located. One thrall with him. Heat mage.

---

Floating forth, propelled by the flames served two purposes for Shirik. The first was to keep up with the group and avoid being slowed down. From here, hanging over the water, Shirik could’ve easily bartered bandits or vagabonds out of sword range. The second purpose, was to take in the area while the rest crossed the bridge. They had to focus on the path ahead, and mind its crumbling state. Shirik essentially had lookout duty for the brief second.

A third purpose made itself present, however. Everything around them grew more and more ominous by the second. Trees shook, and the water grew still. This was becoming a running theme- Interlopers signaled by a deafening lack of signs. Everything was too quiet, until the moment demons sprung forth. They ambushed the group, Silbermine caught on quickly. This was good. What wasn’t good was the tentacled horror that burst from underneath Shirik. They expected this tactic from life mages in the form of predatory marine life. But this…

Floating above the bridge gave Shirik just enough breathing room to make one swift, albeit ham fisted move in retaliation. They thrust their staff down, as if they were shoving a person backwards, and the mirage of heat beneath them because a raging fireball, sputtering out as quickly as it formed. It was, ultimately, an explosion and not a proper spell. And Shirik was propelled upwards, and back to where they started. The blast flung them in the direction of Mallory and Silbermine, dozens of feet higher than they anticipated.

While it got them out of the clutches of that abomination, it put Shirik in a precarious situation. The propulsion of Shirik’s magic hinges on how much heat they expelled. And because they were not expelling enough heat to maintain their current height, Shirik sunk like a rock. Silbermine, Mallory and the knights would feel a downward draft of sudden heat as they touched down, stumbling and falling to one knee with a crunch near the Glen lord.

A more keen-eyed individual would note that bits of black, gritty material seemed to fall of of Shirik’s body as they stood up, leaning slightly on their staff.

”The battlefield unifies even the most distant banners. We fight together!” Despite their differences, Shirik was a soldier at heart, just like the Glen of Silbermine’s house. Even in their seemingly weary state, Shirik steeled themself. Flames erupted from their crackling shell, as the made a swiping motion with a glowing finger. The blazing ring turned, and raced into the sky. With a flick of their wrist, it curved down, and flew like a meteor on a collision course with the creature that they just escaped from.

The one Ixtaro was closest to, it seemed.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

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Interactions: Sully and Auri

Flowers and Canvases

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Stormy was a bold and protective man. He was willing to forgive people who did bad things when they were pushed into a corner. Even a worm will turn, but Britney ruined lives for years to come. Luca was right here as living proof of that. The shields hanging off of his arms practically radiated a kind of unpleasant, suffocating sensation that only the red Lux users in the shop would be aware of. It was a decade ago. He knew that. But right now, all he could see was the person who hurt others because the had her little god complex. ”How do you-“

Butterflies. Fucking butterflies.

A whole wall of them. That was definitely Auri, alright. Stepping through them, she took the blame for Britney’s presence, staring him dead in the face. Stormy glared down at her, going through a bunch of thoughts right then and there as to wether or not he should be mad at her. And of course, dear old Sully stepped around and took his mind off of Britney as well. They were standing up for her. Sully and Auri were good people. If they thought she deserved a second chance…

”If she makes one wrong move, I’ll deal with her myself.” That was his concession. The shields dissolved into a faint shimmering glow, until there was nothing. He wasn’t the kind of man known for blind rage in any way, so it was easy enough for him to put Britney out of his mind. He could write Britney off as a bad person for as long as she gave no one a reason to think otherwise. But he couldn’t stay mad Auri, or Sully.

”It’s good to see both of you,” he said at last, clapping Sully over the shoulder, with a genuine smile on his face.

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Interactions: Auri

Flowers and Canvases

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It was almost funny, seeing everyone doglike Greyson. He even broke down into tears. If Greyson was anything more then a face in a small crowd to Jack, then he might’ve laughed or spoken up about the whole thing. But the more important matter was the fact that Auri’s attempt to unify this absolute wreck of a group went about as well as some of them expected. Auri was not Ashley, that much was true. But she could’ve at least tried not to talk about the endeavor like it wasn’t a “family.” That was her first mistake. Everyone digging up their own bad blood certainly didn’t help. Most people seemed to decide that they were done with this for now. They’d likely come around as some point of another. Jack certainly hoped so.

Once people were off to dinner, the shop was quieter.

The ones who stayed seemed to be a bit more willing to entertain this mystery. That was good. Jack needed to have a word with Auri about this, though. So he waited for everything to calm the fuck down.

”It wasn’t a waste of time, calling us here. If I knew we were being picked off sooner, I’d have Father Wolf buried by now. And I know you had high hopes for reuniting us, but we haven’t been a family since we sealed away the Snake. The coven was a family for many of us, myself included, but what we have now is nothing more than memories. The longer we spend dwelling on the past, the less time we have to focus on what is happening right now. Give them time, they’ll return sooner or later, once they’re ready. They won’t let this stop them from finding who is trying to kill us all.”

Avengers Academy: Junior Year 💥

Leah Jordan

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Location: Training Room B
Gear: A hot ass dress
Skills: The insurmountable will to not lose her cool under any circumstances
Oh god oh fuck

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She suddenly really, really wanted to turn everything above Danni's neck into a fine, red smear on the ground. Being called hot by him was weird[, sure, but Leah was trying to play it cool and NOT scare people away from their ideas of fun because of her. Did Danni really have to remember the one time she damn near killed someone by accident? Madalyne went off to get some drinks, and suddenly both of her girlies were trying to... Comfort her? About her not wanting to be here? Oh no. Oh hell no. This wasn't gonna work. Since the others started leaving, Leah figured she'd need to stop this before it snowballed further. So before anything further happened, and sensing that April was about to get fidgety, she wrapped one of her superhumanly muscular arms around each of them, gently bringing them in closer with a surprisingly lack of neck-shattering pain.

"Hey, girls, listen. I know you're nervous about me being, well, me about this. But I'm here because I wanna be. And I wanna be here, because both of you are here. Between the three of us, I never go to this kind of thing because I don't know how to talk to people like you guys. You two were always way better at the whole socializing thing than me. I'm not just tolerating this, and I don't feel like I'm being held hostage. I'm just out of my depth here."

And this was the truth, ultimately. For Leah, this was effectively stage fright. "But the reason I'm out of my depth, and not running off is because I want to spend time with both of you. Sure, this is new to me, but I am not letting that stop me from having fun with you two, okay? This isn't a burden to me, I promise." Ordinarily, Leah would just chill in her room, and hope people didn't know she existed. But it was different now, and she wanted to be close to April and Sabine. Overcoming her anxiousness towards large groups of people was a part of that, since they were, ultimately, social butterflies in their own ways.

Mads came back with the drinks, and Leah took hers without drinking from it, or pulling her arm off of April, who seemed like she could use a bit more grounding. "Nah, we're just standing around. Let's eat something."