icmasticc

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And here I am to try my hand again with another DC submission. Admittedly, my last attempt was a miss because I completely forgot about the legacy character thing. This time though, I think it'll be more successful, if only because this isn't what I'd consider a major character. However, she is someone I find intriguing. Hope it's alright.

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Lady Shiva

L A D Y S H I V A

Sandra Wu-San, 33 (b. 1935)
_{Vigilante based in Gotham City, New Jersey
Active since approximately Fall, 1967}

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Lady Shiva is an interesting kind of character. She's probably most often known as a villain in Batman's rogues gallery, but she was originally an antagonist for Richard Dragon way back when. She's another who has had shifting loyalties throughout her many appearances; she's played plenty on both sides of the morality spectrum and her only true allegiances are really to herself. She's not what you would call an A-list character, but she has had some very important roles in some equally important storylines over the years. I gravitate towards her because her history dictates she can played a number of different ways and I like her skill-set.

Originally, Sandra Wu-San's only purpose in life was to hunt down the person who murdered her sister. After that business, she went on to become a famed martial artist and assassin-for-hire in an effort to satisfy her death wish; Sandra lives for the thrill of combat and actively seeks out life-or-death scenarios. For this roleplay, I want to sort of re-do her origin a bit. In her past, she'll have spent a lifetime honing her skills and worked as an assassin-for-hire for a short time in different parts of the world, all the while traveling and picking up leads to find the murderer who killed her sister, Carolyn Wu-San. In her search, she's been hired by multiple nations and private organizations to covertly kill their enemies, but she's only been using them to finance and further her own personal hunt. At the start of the roleplay, she returns to Gotham City on a lead and retires from the life of hired assassin in order to become a vigilante using the name Lady Shiva. This not only satisfies her inner need to experience the thrill of combat, but also brings her closer to finding the person she's been looking for. Of course, her vigilantism in a city full of these types draws attention from eyes yet unknown.

The really interesting part about this is that Lady Shiva is a prominent woman character in her comic book history, but putting her in the 60s provides a nice foil to her search efforts and overall infamy. She's a woman of Asian descent returning to a country already hot in racial and sexist tensions as it is, so she probably wouldn't be famous for her skills or as highly sought after in the criminal underworld as she was in the comics. Some might not even appreciate being saved by a woman no matter the situation and the police would likely put more effort into hunting her down considering her status. Basically, I want to explore what life would be like for a foreign woman living in America during this time in spite of her high-level martial ability and the fact that she's hunting down a killer, something that's a bit hypocritical in and of itself.

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Skills and Ability

Though Lady Shiva has no superpowers, she does possess an almost superhuman ability. She is described as a martial arts grandmaster having successfully mastered multiple arts, including forgotten ones. She is most notable for using her body alone to dispatch her opponents, but she has also been known to use weapons, especially swords, in situations as well. She is unique in the fact that she was raised to speak the language of the body first and spoken language second. Basically, she was raised to understand movement and physicality on a much deeper level than any normal person would understand. Due to that, she is also proficient in acrobatics, but her main ability is to read her opponent's body language in such a way that she can anticipate their moves beforehand and counter effectively. In her comic history, this has allowed her to overcome just about all of the hand-to-hand combatants she's ever faced with Batman even mentioning that she's probably the world's greatest martial artist. In her comic history, she was only ever defeated by Cassandra Cain--her daughter--in single combat though many DC characters have survived their duels with her.

For the purposes of this RP, I'll be playing her as a high-level martial artist, but not the level of world's greatest or anything. She'll be able to hold her own against common NPC enemies and the like, but she'll have trouble against some of the marquee characters if she's ever faced with one as an opponent.

Equipment

- Straight, double-edged short-sword
- Throwing Knives

Rogue's Gallery

Considering her history as an antagonist, Shiva does not have a rogue's gallery of her own, but Batman would be the closest thing to an archenemy. Black Canary has been both friend and foe so that relationship could go either way as well. The Bat characters in general would be considered her enemies, but this roleplay could go either way with that and I'm fine with having her go against them or join them depending on the situation.

Supporting Cast

I'll create an NPC for her soon if this is accepted

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Requiem - Corbyn Vesper
Manifest Anima - Anton Dragomirov
Kingsglaive - Nero Saxon

①⑨⑥⑧

So, just like everyone else, I also want to pursue a secondary character. My goal was to have a Marvel and DC character so I could participate on both sides of the spectrum, if you will lol. Here's my submission for a Jason Todd that worked for the Soviets first before defecting back to the US and working against them. Let me know if there are any problems, thanks.

Jason Todd

J A S O N T O D D

27 (b. 1941)
_{US Government Agent based in Gotham City, New Jersey
Active since approximately Fall, 1967}

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Let me begin by saying this; I hate Batman. It's not because he's a bad character necessarily, but it's because I have multiple problems with who Batman is as a character and how writers choose to portray him in his many storylines. This is probably the main reason why I tend to gravitate towards his supporting cast and sidekicks - the villains are probably some of the best ever, as well. With that in mind, Jason Todd is another favorite comic character of mine. Of all the Robins that have existed, I always find myself most enthralled with the Jason Todd character and his tragic story. He was a Robin for the shortest amount of time before being brutally murdered by the Joker, only to be brought back to life and seemingly dicked over by Batman. Now, I know he went crazy upon his resurrection so Batman did what had to be done, but still. I sympathize with Jason Todd and he is probably the epitome of an anti-hero to me. He's a guy who was trained to be a hero, but once the cruel world got a hold of him, he realized that you can't always be the most morally correct even when you're trying to do the right thing. Putting him the era of the 60s provides a few opportunities.

My intention is to show a Jason Todd who, while still broken at his core, has a change of heart after working as Red Hood for the Soviets and decides to defect and take up a position with the US government in order to covertly battle with the Soviet Union. His previous history would remain intact; he was still trained by Batman and served as Robin for a short while until his death came at the hands of the Joker. He was then resurrected later and attempted to take some form of twisted vengeance against Batman under the mantle of Red Hood, but was ultimately defeated. The difference here is that he took up the mantle of Red Hood and decided to work directly for the Soviets in a bid to somehow satisfy his need for payback against those he felt wronged him. After a certain operation however, he has a change of heart and decides to defect to the US government where he eventually is given a position as a covert agent to work against the Soviets and right the wrongs he committed while under Russian employ.

To that end, his first arc would be tracking down and teaming up with both Midnighter and Apollo since they were part of the American Soldier program and are both tasked with the same objective as Jason Todd. I'd want Jason to team up with and interact with any characters who are part of the Cold War on both sides. Now, the reason I didn't actually label this concept as "Red Hood" is because my take on Jason would be one who does not desire to hide behind a persona or a secret identity anymore. Also, this is the 60s and being called red anything would surely raise a few eyebrows considering he works for the American government and his history working for the Russians and trying to advance their ideals.

As far as his abilities are concerned, Jason Todd would bring all the skills and equipment he learned and acquired from his tenure as Robin and he would remain as lethal as he ever was in the comics, meaning he is still not adverse to killing his enemies. I feel like that's an important difference between him and the rest of the Batman sidekicks and Jason Todd without dual handguns is just... Wrong, in my opinion. His character development should take him from amoral agent of the US government to a man who understands why Batman operates as he does and that the whole world is not something you have to distance yourself from in order to live a somewhat comfortable life.

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I will add his equipment and supporting cast very soon.

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Requiem - Corbyn Vesper
Manifest Anima - Anton Dragomirov
Kingsglaive - Nero Saxon

①⑨⑥⑧

Lol, I know how it appears. I can easily make him the usual vigilante if you want, I just figured seeing him take a more selfish approach to his powers in this sort of era would be intriguing.

Unless of course, that label is meant to denote their original purpose...

①⑨⑥⑧

Hey, Gowi. I saw the interest check for this but was deciding between this and a different RP to join possibly. I love superheroes, Marvel specifically, so this really jumped out at me. I find it pretty intriguing. And the fact that you say it'll be a leisurely pace is even better. Here is my submission. Seeing a more selfish Spider-Man running around in this era is interesting to me. Let me know if there are any problems. Thanks for your consideration.

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S P I D E R - M A N

Peter Parker, 22 (b. 1946)
_{Mercenary based in New York
Active since approximately 1964}

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Peter Parker/Spider-Man is my favorite character in comic books and one of the many reasons is because of the wealth of story potential surrounding the character. Basically, I intend to explore a world in which Peter Parker decides to use his powers as a mercenary instead of taking the great responsibility he was meant for. He is usually portrayed as an average everyman sort of character with varying degrees of bad luck so I want to present a notion that he decided to use his newfound abilities for profit rather than heroism. This will not be an all out villainous look at Spider-Man (As that has been done before anyways), but a more anti-hero, selfish version of the character that's not often seen - behavior triggered by the fact that his Uncle Ben never actually died. To present a sort of primer, it will go something like this:

At the age of eighteen, Peter Parker is bitten by a genetically enhanced spider--one which combined the abilities of various species--and given the abilities of said creature in an unexpected twist. As he is discovering and learning the potential of his newfound power, he comes across the opportunity to make a little cash by participating in an underground fighting circuit. He makes a name for himself amongst the underworld while hiding his true identity from the more unsavory types. His Uncle Ben catches on and decides to try and catch him in the act one day, but he is assaulted almost as soon as he enters the secluded area. Instead of getting killed however, Peter is able to save his Uncle and the two decide that is the end of the "Spider-Man's" fighting career. After graduating high school and moving out of his Aunt and Uncle's home, Peter decides he has a unique opportunity to make large amounts of money in a very short time frame; rather than going into the work force or pursuing college, he decides to sell his abilities to the highest bidder and take on dangerous jobs only he has a possibility of coming out alive from, both because of the thrill of danger he tasted in the underground ring and the potential to secure large contracts from his clientele. With that, he once again dons his Spider-Man persona and becomes a mercenary operating out of New York. He still hides his true identity just in case his business tries to follow him home.

So basically, it's a Peter Parker that never learned the responsibility of heroism because he was able to save his Uncle from being killed and rather than go on to be a struggling adult trying to juggle his superhero and normal life, he decides to become a mercenary and make the most of his abilities while also elevating his normal life rapidly. And it's the frikkin' 60s. This is a most awesome era indeed. Well, more intriguing than awesome, what with the rampant racism and tensions in the world at the time.

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Supporting Cast

Gwen Stacy
-Once just another fellow high school alum, Gwen Stacy is Peter Parker's current, and most successful, girlfriend. The two have been together since running into one another only a few weeks after high school graduation and Gwen knows of her boyfriend's alter-ego. Though she loves the man under the mask, Gwen is not a fan of how Spider-Man sells himself to the highest bidder. She works as a secretary for a small-time ad company, but garners zero respect as a woman. Thus far, Peter is one of the few men who treats her as something more than just a trophy on his arm.

Harry Osborn
-Son of the mega-wealthy Norman Osborn, Harry and Peter have been friends since childhood. As a spoiled rich kid, Harry bounced from one occupation to the next after high school and never seems to stick with any form of employment for longer than three months. However, unbeknownst to his father, he supports his friend in his extra-curricular activities by acting as his handler. Using his father's large network of contacts, Harry is able to secure contracts for Peter on a regular basis and though he isn't paid for his efforts, Harry appreciates the thrill of doing something in the shadows. Outside of this, he is a hard partying individual and is generally known around the city for his drunken antics and many pursuits of women.

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Requiem - Corbyn Vesper
Manifest Anima - Anton Dragomirov
Kingsglaive - Nero Saxon

Baybridge: Halcyon Days [Superpower Roleplay/Interest Check & Advertisement]

Hmm. I've seen some of the other iterations of this roleplay, but for one reason or another I never went further than just looking. I like the semi-sandbox, character driven aspects. I'll show some tentative interest in this and read up on the lore a bit more.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Hey everyone,

@Rockette wanted me to let everyone know that she ran into a family emergency yesterday and she'll be replying to posts today. She apologizes for the slow response as of late due to her hectic schedule at the present moment. As I said, we'll be trying to move forward next week, though I can't specify a particular day just yet. Thank you for your patience and I hope you're able to endure just a little longer. Thanks!

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Hey guys! Small announcement. We're gonna go one more week in this period of the story (so we can get some of the these coming collabs out, I'm pretty excited to read them!) and then we're gonna move the plot and head back to our weekly structure. Hope you guys are enjoying yourselves!

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Annnd Nox and I just finished our collab! It's a bit long because it's a collab, but I don't think it's too bad.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

_{A R C H A D I A / / I N F I L T R A T I O N - T H E F O R E S T S}

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“Do you think you’re ready for what must be done?”

The words were mystifyingly poignant. Trailing from the etchings in the dirt, his anomalous gaze curved in a slow, upward ascension to meet the toothy smile of Amentia's visage. Her lips were dressed with a smearing of crimson blood under shimmering, pallid oculi soaked in a fresh coating of overindulgent glee. Within the silence of a single moment, Corybn's blank expression scrunched and contorted into a brow raise punctuated by a crooked frown. It wasn't that he disapproved of his less known--and much less understood--comrade, but to say that she was aberrant was far beyond an understatement. He briefly glanced at the ink-like substance crawling around his silhouette, seemingly assessing his form, before his half-confused countenance returned to find equally curious eyes deadlocked mere inches away. He reciprocated the extended silence before those words broke the tension and Amentia's entire face snapped to the direction in which the duo would be moving. Corybn made no moves, no sounds, as he took a second to reflect on the question posed. Then he grunted and exhaled.

"What must be done, eh?" The commander began, taking another brief pause, "It doesn't matter what must be done. As a SOLDIER, I'm going to do what needs to be done. That's a promise." Taking long, controlled strides, the crouched lancer began his forward movement down the path the team would need to navigate.

Corbyn’s response drifted through the charged uneasy stillness that had enveloped them-- the tempest’s eye that narrowed it’s gaze upon the merciless children of man’s overindulgent pride. Oh yes, trouble brewed about them in the coaxing shadows, but at this moment, Amentia seemed to be lacking battle focus and instead meandered through a hazy definition of reality entirely her own. Amentia allowed his response the same consideration he had afforded her question. And she was left wanting. She’d always found the concept of need to be tricky and it curled about her mind leaving in its wake a distrust of his answer. It seemed off, false in the way humanity often struck her. Not in the way she was wrong, no, he wasn’t like her in that regard. There was a gnawing that told her he was worse; he had secrets. It prickled her the way his emotions roiled in steady waves about him, yet not from him. While she faltered in trusting his response, she didn’t feel the same about Corbyn. She shrugged off the inward ruminations.

It was a silly thing anyways, what was she comparing him too? Since her sheltered youth the only deficient knowledge of interaction and humanity stemmed from nurses, doctors and military supervisors. None involving something as frivolous as socialization. Maybe this was simply the way people should be. Corbyn was moving forward, away from her, and it struck her that she couldn’t quite remember being alone with anyone. Other than me. I’m always here. She offered the inner beast a smile in acknowledgment as she started ahead, quickly skipping barefoot between their distance so as not to be left behind. Corbyn obviously trusted her enough to show his back, so yes, she would traverse his convoluted path of need. And there was something else too, something that wanted so badly to trust someone else, something that didn’t want to be left alone. She could almost swear it was something born of her own emotion.

And then, silence.

Quiet courted the twosome once more, almost lackadaisical in the way it seemed to saunter into their bubble of reality. Yet the lack of immediate reply incited a feeling of intrigue from deep within the steadfast commander. The unforeseen tranquil had also served to devour the budding tension and a sensation of relative comfort began to ease itself around the duo, at least on Corbyn's end. Human beings were not without flaws and mistrust certainly kept a claw in his side, but Corbyn now considered his own dripping curiosity as it steadily formed into a pool of sheer wonder. Amentia was the sort of SOLDIER that invited shadowed rumors and allowed hushed whispers to float by without giving them a second thought or even a fleeting glance. Unsubstantiated information usually formed a web of half-truths and full lies, begging rumormongers and gossipers to travel the length of a single sticky strand with the hope of gleaning pieces of confirmation or settling for whiffs affirmation in truth's stead. The lancer never took the time to delve into the web surrounding his present company, but now that she was only a step or two behind, the inevitable humanity of simply being inquisitive suddenly struck the man. And before he knew it, his own familiar intonation echoed into the noiseless air.

"Let me ask you a question," Corybn began, carefully pushing tall grass out of the way as he continued to step forward though his pace had notably slowed, "You asked me about being ready for whatever has to be done... What made you ask something like that?"

As Corbyn’s gait lessened, her own settled her less than half a pace behind. Threads of black fringe fell across her shoulders, escaping from their confinement as her neck twisted toward him without forgoing their progressive journey. He received a head tilt as pale eyes, still mottled with wisps of twilight, assessed his features once more. He seemed to be refined in the areas where she lacked. His features, his stature, they were akin to what one would expect of a commander, focused and well maintained. Yet, he spoke to her without necessity. Her pleasure at the conversation danced across her gore stained lips, bringing out dimples beneath the hint of macabre. They continued to weave through the pitch stained route, uncovered pads gingerly picking her course on their own accord as he held her attention. The silence stretched out between them and it almost appeared she would fail to respond.

She let her focus be summoned upward, taking in the beauty of the sky. The stars cared little about the monstrous acts that would be /had been/ committed on this plane, forever the unfazed spectators. They seemed to twinkle brighter under scrutiny and for a moment she tried to remember if they had looked the same before all of this, before SOLDIER. Her features softened, appearing lost and wondering with the innocence of youth, consumed with awe over the immensity of it all. When she spoke it was with a childlike resolution that left little room for doubt on her own end.

“I think we often fail to ask ourselves.”

Corbyn stopped, his gaze swiveling to a side profile as he glanced over his shoulder.

"This one is of few words, but those that are spoken are prominent indeed, " Asteria echoed within her mental confine.

"Shut the hell up," Corbyn's own mental voice snapped. He cleared his mind and refocused on the SOLDIER before him.

"Maybe we do. But if a person has a clear goal in mind... " The commander trailed as his visage became forward facing once more. "... Should they really be questioning their own resolve?"

The pangs of reminiscence stung and stabbed at the frozen commander. He had been duty-bound since joining the program, but it was also true that, like most others, a semblance of waver had overtaken his determination at various points in the early days. The specific methods of joining the body with the mysterious Aeon beings eluded the man, but he could remember the times after, the adjustment period that every SOLDIER underwent when bonding had been deemed successful. His own experiences were muddled in varying emotions covering the entire spectrum of feeling itself. Unbeknownst to his partner, her words had unintentionally dug up the graves of buried nightmares, repressed memories that played out as dark dreams within the mind's eye of Corbyn Vesper. A quivering foot solidified and took a reinvigorated step forward as the commander shook the false reality from his immediate purview and continued along the darkened route. This was not the time for that.

"That's the bigger failure, if you ask me." He said, finishing his thought.

Her steps suspended for his pause and when her gaze lowered to meet his own the innocence had faded into something almost apologetic in its amused superiority. The words came despite herself, coated in honey and blood, and slipping from between her lips. “Is SOLDIER all that you are? You speak of needs, goals, failure....” She had begun to shake her head as she spoke tumbling the loose strands about her narrow shoulders, her tongue was tapping against her teeth in a tsking noise when she noticed a change in her companion. She grew quiet while the aeon within took up its own pleased tsk, tsk, tsk.

She had forgotten what she was saying. Her head canted and the splattering across her eyes twisted and devoured upon the ghostly pallor. The shadows that danced across their feet curled hungrily towards his nightmares, twisting about his ankles and crawling up his thighs. The aeon begun to purr, a sickly deranged rumble that threatened to eek from betwixt her lips. Within Corbyn's features she saw pieces of storm like those that executed across Hade's gates, ghouls flickering behind his eyes before they fell from his gaze and licked across her arms beneath the still damp coat, prickling the hairs that lay there. Their conversation had vanished, no longer toying with his words but rather consumed with his countenance. The coils of shadow had made it to his waist before she snapped them back again with a twitching sort of pull from arachnid digits. Her eyes blinked, returning a fraction of their pale hue as he began to turn away. The emotion stung as it clawed against her chest.

For a brief moment she actually thought about offering a soft touch-- something she remembered from childhood-- but her fingers clenched and remained at her side. Battle was their home, whoever's battle it may be, and there was no place for such inane gestures where they stood. Who was she to think she could provide comfort to anyone? She wasn’t so crazy that she didn’t know her place. She hadn’t touched another person outside of combat and “medical professionals” in sixteen years. She faltered at her own thoughts and fell a few paces behind. A frown twisted across her cheeks, one directed at herself. Who was she to put any judgment into matters such as this? She knew nothing of needs, nothing of resolve or goals and very little of failure.

She brushed away the emotions and listened, her ears straining into the darkness as she suddenly remembered the company that weaved about them in the darkness. “I’m sorry, sometimes I’m not…right.” She was talking about her mental state, not the function of correctness and accentuated the word to convey as much. With his back to her there was no way to know her smile had returned other than a lightness that crept into her voice, “I do believe you are ready Corbyn; ready for what needs to be done. And for now, my only path is yours.” Because where else would she go? Perhaps Corbyn was right. Better to focus now.

Corbyn found himself stopping once again as the patrols began to criss-cross the area in their search. The nearest few were still a few meters ahead of the hidden SOLDIERs. As half of his attention rested on navigating the labyrinth that was the Archadian forest, the commander found his other half being pulled into the quieted inflection of his partner. At first, her words came freshly sharpened, tinged with hints of venom and the sultry scent of condescension radiating from them. The mere implication they intended to insinuate pulled the corners of her lead's unseen lips and shifted his entire physiognomy into a contortion of amused expression against a dastardly smirk. Silent gratitude permeated his mentality at the fact that his back was Amentia's only visual in that moment. Had the lancer really allowed SOLDIER to dominate his entire being? The thought tingled on the tip of his tongue, but was ultimately swallowed without any real introspection. Corbyn had spoken of clear goals just a few minutes prior and he was no traitor--no hypocrite--to his own philosophy. The next surprise, however, came from the bloody woman's continuing dialogue.

The apology was a bit far into the formal territory, but her reasoning just created even more intrigue. It was plainly obvious to see that Amentia did not behave in the way a typical individual might, but her admitted guilt was an interesting proposition. Maybe it was his paranoia claiming superiority once more, but Corbyn toyed with the idea that this woman might have been more than she was letting on. He could not say with certainty that her outward idiosyncrasy was a ruse of some sort, but she gave the cautious man the impression that her semi-erratic ways might have been some form of wall she kept up for appearances - or to hide appearances, as it were. Either way, it provided a new and interesting layer to the volatile woman that did not seem to be there before. Wiping a hand over his face, Corbyn exhaled and checked his surroundings again. The patrols were still about, but they had moved far enough way to pass. With that, he began forward.

"I probably should have told you this before. My title may be commander, but I really don't care for it. You don't have to be formal with me... Just sayin'. I do want to ask you a kind of unrelated question though." Corbyn took a breath and glanced back for a single second before facing the front again. "Do you... Do you talk with... Well... The thing, inside you?"

His back played witness as the shock of his question resulted in a flinch that would have been less severe had he physically struck her across the face. The others, the ones at the base, also liked to ask questions like that. Claws clenched white knuckled around the bo-shuriken and the thought of breathing consigned itself in a line of reactions that were darting to the forefront of her mind. She did very little to squelch the scowl that took residence in its twisted glory, finally manipulating her visage into the weapon of war she had been presumed to be. The streaks of umbra the eeked from her being took up a shuddering giddy dart with the impetuous swell of emotion dripping from their host. Doubtless it was the wrong reaction that won out, but she committed.

“That thing,” the word rolled off her tongue laced in as much disgust as could be accentuated upon a word and continued to roil about her tirade, “has a name. And where would you be commander without that thing? Cozied up by a warm fire with family and friends? No such life was offered to me. Xcavairn saved what bit of self I had. All I had. And whether or not I talk to him is none of your, or any of the rest of the SOLDIER hierarchies, fucking business.” Her seriousness didn’t allow much time to consider the humor that the petite demon, still coated in the malicious remnants of feasting on a man, somehow sounded ridiculous cursing due to awkward lack of use.

In spite of her awkward profanity, however, the more important highlight was the fact that the facade was broken. Wrath laid behind false persona poured out into the open air and all the while, Corbyn smiled. Presumptuous cadence spilled alongside the unmitigated anger as words laden with audacious impudence attempted to mount a surprise offensive into the conversation - a nerve had been struck and was it ever a sore one. In the same vein however, Amentia had also seemed to finally come from behind the wall that separated her true self from the rest. It was clear that she was offended by the commander's use of the word "thing" to describe the mysterious beings that inhabited their bodies, but more than that she felt gratitude towards the alien entity. That was where the lancer drew his line. He once more stopped in place, the smile widening at the tall blades of grass in front of him and the beating of his heart growing more frequent and just a little more intense. This woman had found a nerve of her own to strike.

"Do you believe so little in your own abilities that you'd go as far to say that thing saved you? That a being we know absolutely nothing about deigned to come to a human's aid? Is that some kind of twisted joke?!" Corbyn chuckled, stifling an outright laugh as he reclaimed consciousness of the present situation. "Maybe you had a hard life. Who the hell knows. The only thing I know is that these creatures aren't deserving of our trust, much less our gratitude. I told you once that I don't care about this title and that fact is still the truth. Think what you want about me. But don't ever try to convince me that these... Things are something more than they are. Just don't even bother wasting your breath in that case."

The steam of her words seemed to simmer, her commitment faltering as she felt momentarily like a petulant child, but instead of choosing to fold she doubled down. Her steps emerged forcefully and terminated the distance the pair had momentarily shared. Her shoulder collided with his arm, her height failing what her fury expected, though still delivering a startling amount of stability for such a pixie thing. With the contact she paused, their silhouettes scarcely touching as her eyes-- still convoluted with the weeping fetor of pupil-- drilled into his own. A slithering solidification breached the corporeal realm from amongst the tenebrous well at their feet and pierced through Corbyn’s ankle, linking the two with the demented manacle. There was no physical pain, but rather a creeping cold until the link shattered his own reality and force fed her own; a quaint parade of mania. The once solid ground began to slither and crawl with eldritch ease and the sky broke open and birthed phantoms howling for death and everything became a juxtaposition of apathy and empathy. But there was no fear, not in this place.

Her gaze, steady and determined bore past him, through him, leeching out beyond the fleshy bags they inhabited and her words came out in a disbelieving hiss, “I can't believe you let him talk to you like that.” And he knew she was not addressing him, there wasn't a doubt.

Corbyn felt the cold in her eyes and the chill of the ebon tentacles she commanded. In contrast to what one would think though, the commander simply bore his own gaze straight back into those of his temporary warden. The smile on his face had regressed into the smirk it once was only a short while earlier and though he could tell Amentia was looking past him, he hoped she would take note of his silent defiance. In spite of being placed within the same unit, Corbyn had little understanding of the other SOLDIER's abilities. Their files had only given basic information--probably a conscious decision made by top brass--and barely made mention of the weapons they were carrying. In this case however, the commander was more than prepared for his comrade's brand of mental assault. As was another.

In the pitch black of her quiet realm, Asteria seemingly sat on air, legs-crossed and arms folded. Long, dark hair fell far past her back though part of it was styled in some sort of ornate up-do. She regularly took the form of a young woman at the request of her host and it was through this form that polychromatic oculi suddenly opened and her visage twisted into a furrowed brow and waiting grin. She felt the intrusion as soon as Amentia had linked the two. The bloody woman's voice manifested as an echo that came from everywhere at once within the realm though Asteria was sure she could be seen at that moment - all the better.

"Child," a feminine, yet somehow aged timbre began, "My pact with this boy is presently beyond your understanding. However, his mannerism towards me is more intriguing than hostile. You humans amuse me with your spectacularly varying personalities and characteristics. I will not say that it wouldn't be nice to be worshiped and adored as you so graciously allow one of my kind to feel." Asteria paused for a moment. Her teeth began to show as her grin widened. "Your ability is very interesting, indeed. To be able to speak with me independent of my host is... Fascinating."

Well, that would make two of them, Amentia hadn’t know she could speak to another’s aeon either, though that realization would have to come later. While Asteria abated some of the fury that coursed through Amentia's veins there seemed to be a current not yet ready to be dammed. She unintentionally had released a valve on years of collected tension. Her heart thrummed within her chest, echoing in the emptiness that should have been Xcavairn, who remained inexplicably withdrawn during the exchange.

Amentia, now fully connecting to the eyes of Asteria, continued on without ceasing for answers. She didn’t really want them anyways for fear that they would just confirm the tide of her thoughts. "Intriguing? This “boy” speaks of the needs and goals of SOLDIER as if they were his own. Does he even have any beyond them? He trusts them, but yet he is incapable of trusting you.” She sighed and it was clear she was winding down. The fury in her gaze softened so that the pupils had almost completely collected their own pale gray, though a tinge of sorrow pooled within. Her rigid stature relaxed and while the world around them continued to portray the sinister retelling of Through the Looking Glass it seemed somehow less abrasive than before.

The rest of her words were a sad whisper, a chill slipping between the two that was almost taken with the night breeze, “SOLDIER will fail him. They will not come to his aid. You will do what needs to be done to keep him safe.” The last sentence was not uttered as a question. Yes, she adored her Aeon, but Corbyn was the first person to just talk to her, or at least try too. And she did not know Asteria so why not push her luck with demands on his protector? It likely wouldn’t count for anything anyways. “I won’t claim that I was right when the day comes, nor will I experience joy. There is more at stake than my pride, and no matter what, this story will not have a happy ending. I just hope he doesn’t expect one.”

And with that she released her hold and lowered her eyes to dissuade contact with the man, the shadows suddenly skittered away from him as if disconcerted by their previous connection. If Asteria had anything to add, she best say it to Corbyn. Amentia didn’t need Asteria, but Corbyn would. She watched for a brief moment the curling protection that seeped from her pale bare feet against the ground, the gifts of Xcavairn. She glanced in the direction of the patrols that had been weaving about up ahead. There was no emotion in her voice when she spoke now, resolve, isn’t that what he had said? Do what must be done. “There’s men up ahead, but they didn’t hear us.” She turned her form further from his own and continued down their original path, the path of the damned. She was done talking for now. She was done smiling for now. And honestly? She wanted to kill something.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

My post is up for those in the infiltration team, sorry for the wait.

Once you've read it you'll understand what I'm about to say better. For this next round, we have the opportunity to explore some character development if you guys so desire. I've split the team up into groups of two (this is just for the infiltration team mind you, @Rockette will take care of the distraction team) and though we'll be moving in the same direction, this is a chance to do some collaboration posts if that's your thing or if you think it will provide for better interaction between you and your partner. If you have any questions or concerns I'll be around to answer them.

Have fun!