Krayzikk

Secundi Lux

How tasteless.

The indignant thought penetrated the haze in her head, all the more surreal for how normal it was. How utterly atonal. They fucked with her ears she thought angrily as the ringing registered, scowling around the copper taste in her mouth. One second she was walking along, carrying her bags through the dark station and ignoring the way the shadows seemed to surround them. She kept the anxiety at bay by running through a selection in her head, humming into the void around them. The next she was face down on the tile, her luggage was arrayed in front of her... And so was their escort.

That finally broke the haze if not the tinnitus.

The detonation had disoriented her but the shock was probably the only thing that kept the fear at bay. The anger, too, however irrational. She clung to them both for support and pushed herself on her elbows, casting her eyes around in the dark. The flash had disrupted her night vision but her eyes had had longer to recover than her brain, and she remembered where her escorts had been. Spread out to safeguard the group from most directions, Selma had been on her left, so the nearest guard was... Her hand hit uniform and she grabbed the sling she knew to be around his torso. The soldier was unresponsive, so was Captain Wei; by all standards they should have recovered faster. Occam's razor said whatever they were hit with, the four magical girls to be were more resistant to. Which to Rivka's mind said magic. That was a thought she shied away from, the ramifications more frightening than anything she'd already seen. That was a threat to the adrenaline fueled serenity she drew tightly around her like armor, and so for now it was discarded. She could think it through later.

Right now she hit the quick release on the sling and drew the rifle close, hands taking their placed on the grips fore and aft while she rolled to her right. Her thumb flicked off the safety and she felt the rewarding thrum of the rifle's power flowing. The ritualistic movements, familiar and safe, cleared her head enough to take action. Selma was stirring, but she wasn't up yet. The other two had been grabbed, one- Chie- yelling for help. Crystal had freed herself already, but in the dark there could have been more than those four.

"Eyes behind us, devushka," She hissed, almost in Selma's ear, and jabbed the bigger girl slightly in the ribs to hurry her along. Their assailants, whoever they were, were hostile. Their escort was down, one of their number was still captive, and they could be surrounded. An authorization for lethal force if she ever heard one. Their white mask gleamed in the little light available, and one of Baeterrae's best youth marksmen sighted on the helpful target. Dragging his (her?) target kept his captive too low to block the shot. She'd only get one without endangering Chie, as soon as she fired they'd know. "We could be surrounded."

But that first shot would be perfect.

She pulled the trigger from a kneeling position with form her judges would have praised, surveying the scene in front of her for her next target and trusting her new tree friend to have her back. If they could group up they could protect each other, alone they were dead. Or worse.

Rivka released the trigger and whistled in the dark, hoping against hope their escorts could recover. Two and a half to three semi-trained teenagers and one untrained did not a spec ops team make.

Secundi Lux

”Dedushka believed when the last Void is gone, the Nox will clear away.” Deprived of her foot stool, even at her own request, Rivka stretched out across more than one seat. The small bag she kept next to her was tucked under her head, giving her the perfect angle to watch the sky and the lights that passed above the car. Each streaming, flickering light as they hurried by and the thick, oppressive cloud of raw magic that strained them so. The fog that threatened to blot out even those stubborn lights and plunge the city into darkness.

At least the city had more than twenty three.

The corners of her mouth quirked, a faint expression suspended somewhere between a smile and a frown as her mind drifted away to a different sky.

”Little goblins!”

She laughed and swung the smallest of her assailants up onto her hip, greeting the other little marauders with pats on the head and ruffles of their hair. It was like wading through a human tide trying to reach the kitchen, but she listened attentively so far as she could differentiate all of their questions.

“I am going to be an Ars Magi, that’s right.”

“Of course you can have an autograph. Of course I’ll come to visit.”

“I would love to listen to what she taught you, but I need to go see babushka myself first okay?” She laughed again and set her littlest cousin back down at the edge of the kitchen, gesturing them all away with a smile and the playful “Shoo, shoo, this is my party and I need to catch up! Chase each other around!”

”They’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day, Riva.” The same fingers that first showed her how to play the piano brushed over her cheek and the old woman smiled. ”So has everyone else, of course, but they’ve been bursting. So proud that their sistra is going to be a big hero.”

”Babushka,” Rivka greeted warmly, leaning down to kiss her cheek and wrap the smaller woman in a tight embrace. ”I’ve missed you.”

”I missed you too. I’m glad you’re here early, I wanted to talk to you. Sit, sit.” She waved a ladle at a stool near the counter and her granddaughter sank onto it obediently, just like she had done since she had to climb onto it. ”I couldn’t be prouder. Before, but certainly when I got the news. It makes me so happy to have you here tonight. I’ll see you again before you leave, I hope, but it was important to see you.”

“I don’t think I’ll be here when you come home. You’ll be training for a long time, and then you’ll be working. I’m old.” She waved her hand. “I’m not complaining. Your family will take care of anything I leave until you can claim it. But there are things that I want you to know, and I have to tell them to you now.”

Rivka bit her lip and resisted the urge to argue. But her babushka was old. Maybe seventy six wasn’t quite so old in the old world. But it was now. Every year she was away the odds of their reunion would get lower, and lower, until the day she returned for her funeral. It hurt. She could face leaving home even if she had never done it because her parents, her siblings, her cousins, they would all be here when she returned. But her grandmother…

”I know, Riva.” Her smile was comforting, Rivka’s thoughts clear as day on her face. ”But everything in its time. You, though. You’re going to be an Ars Magi for a long time. But you don’t know what that means to me.”

“My father was the last of us to live in Russia. None of us have laid eyes on home since, and my father... “ The pot boiled and she reached out to turn the heat down, using the lull to collect her thoughts. ”My father was never the same man. My family told me about who he used to be, how he had laughed, and sang, and enjoyed life to the fullest but I never got to see it. My father stopped singing decades before I was born. He composed the most beautiful pieces, made sure our family survived here in Baeterrae. But he left something important behind in Russia. There wasn’t anything he regretted more than fleeing his home, even if he didn’t have a choice.”

Her voice caught and she took a long breath, favoring her granddaughter with another, sadder smile.

”He would be so, so proud of you Riva. ‘That girl is going to lead us home’. I can just hear him.” Rivka cocked her head silently, feeling the other shoe begin to fall. ”But he would be wrong. We’re never going home, Riva. This is home. This is what you need to protect. The Nox is never going to go away, not when it makes monsters of men. Not when we spend our strength so desperately to keep it outside. We’re all going to realize that soon. All of us that have spent so long dreaming of our return. We created this, somehow, and we can’t undo it.”

“And that’s when they’ll need you. They’ll need you for hope, Riva, just as much as we will. Just as much as your cousins will when I’m gone.” Two glasses and a bottle came off of the shelf above the stove, and when they were full Rivka’s babushka extended one to her. ”I think that’s an awful burden. But if anyone can take it you can, da?”

The glasses clinked again in her ears, and Rivka felt again the way the drink had burned. And the toast her her babushka had raised a few hours later knowing full well that for her it would go unfulfilled; Poka ty snova ne vernesh'sya domoy.

”But I think he was wrong.” She added under her breath, suddenly tired of the view. So she looked away, and let her eyes drift over the soldiers. Captain Wei held no interest for her. The captain’s words drifted into her ears without tone or passion, nothing but a rote recitation of the facts. Facts that she didn’t really care about. Until she reached her destination she was cargo, and like good cargo all she really cared about was arriving. She would have preferred to talk with the other girls but they seemed…. Reticent. A nap might have been nice but even for her that would have been awfully rude.

Instead she entertained herself with looking over the soldiers’ weapons, without much interest for the men and women themselves. She saw mostly more robust, powerful versions of what she had practiced with. The cylinders, if she had to guess, were of a more potent stock than what she worked with. Her target pistol only had six shots, after all, and she was only shooting paper. Or wood, or cardboard, depending. But the principle was the same and she examined the mechanisms in as much detail as she could at a distance, seeking differences where she could find them.

Another try, perhaps.

”Where are you all from? Miss.... Ssselma,” She continued, finally remembering the tall girl’s name. ”Is that a touch of Germanic Hasta?”

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

I'll try and have a post up this weekend, at the latest. But I just drove back home so it'll be a few days before I bounce back.

Secundi Lux

Rivka's fingers drifted along a piano that no one could see, keeping time to a piece that no one could hear.

Herself included. Her earbuds were tucked away in her pocket. They would have been in the way of any instructions she needed to hear, or the first words from the four other girls in the car. Not that it kept her from keeping her eyes closed while her fingers tapped out a melody on her outstretched legs. The airship had been nice, but she felt... cramped. At least she had been able to unpack a little, practice the depressingly few instruments she had been able to bring with her. Mutiny had been a heartbeat away when they told her she couldn't bring her target pistol. On an intellectual level she understood the concern about bringing an unaffiliated firearm on any transport that would bring her to the academy. On a personal, reproachful level she thought that if they couldn't stop a single girl with a .22 sport pistol from unpacking and loading it, let alone firing it, then humanity was in much worse shape than she thought.

She missed the chance to practice. She wouldn't admit it out loud but growing rusty with her firearms felt as awful as her instruments would. Part of her ritual was missing, something that she did if not every day then as often as she could. It was unnatural. The escorts didn't bother her, the confinement didn't bother her, nor did these new locales that she traveled through. But that disruption got under her skin.

Probably, she mused to herself, she should chat up the others. She had listened and watched through half closed eyes in silence as they found their own seats but she had yet to acknowledge them. Probably rude. Her luggage was piled in front of her, the largest case providing a rest for her feet that admittedly required her to slouch way down in her seat and elevate them both above her head. Whoever designed suitcases, shockingly, had not considered putting them at below seat height. By all rights she should have been uncomfortable and in half an hour she probably would be. For now the unorthodox position was stretching her spine very pleasantly.

"Sokolov. Rivka." She drew her name out lazily, lending a stretched, musical lilt to her pronunciation. "Privet."

She certainly was big, that first speaker. Selma. That was what she said. The other two seemed a little withdrawn, if not nervous, and she wondered if that was because trees didn't walk where they were from. This one had evidently learned, and picked up a bubbly personality while she was at it. Then Chie and Crystal, in order. Her fingers slowly tapped again as the big girl reminded her of some piece of music somewhere, a tune she could not name. Hm.

"If it's no trouble, bol'shaya devochka, you could help me stow my instruments."

She pulled herself upright in a single motion with eyes finally open, planting her feet squarely on the floor and absently adjusting any purple strands that had gotten out of place during her recline. The hard case at her feet received a gentle nudge. "If you can do so gently, Miss Selma. They let me bring so little that I would hate to lose what they did."

"A pleasure to make all of your acquaintances. I think we'll get along fine." She added, glancing around the car. Despite being willing to keep talking, she found she... Didn't have any small talk to make. Hm. "Has anyone learned the school anthem yet?"

Her fingers were already finding the note progression on her leg.

Secundi Lux

Rivka Sokolov

Age: 17

Sanctum City: Baeterrae, Vesta

Description: A little above average height with a fit, limber build and long, long hair. The last is the first thing anyone will notice considering her tendency to dye it whatever color strikes her, most recently a deep purple. It hangs down past Rivka’s back and she keeps it neat and styled despite how much maintenance it takes her. Her skin, despite their necessary emigration, reflects her northern ancestry; a pale starting point that is hard to miss regardless of any given month's tanning. Despite her vibrant hair her attire skews towards the darker, more muted end of the color spectrum; blacks, maroons, navies, and such. Rivka has a dark jacket she wears as soon as the air is cold enough and even sometimes in stubborn defiance of the heat.

It’s uncommon to see Rivka in her own time without a firearm case or an instrument, both belonging to pastimes that she greatly enjoys.

Personality: Stoic and resolute, with a contrasting penchant for the arts and a disposition that borders on lazy. A mix that seems at once abrasive and contradictory becomes much more understandable if you persevere past her standoffish exterior. The decline of humanity to a handful of cities is a tragedy, one to be endured, but not to be endured without release; art is a way to process the world, to bolster the spirit, and to defy the monsters that would burden humanity. Music is her own preference, but she enjoys the expression found in all the arts. But the world is a harsh place too, and competitive shooting gives her another outlet. One that makes her much, much harder to take out than the average danger manages.

Endure, she says, but never in silence.. To suffer in silence is to suffer alone, and that path is simply a longer road to madness. To speak of your experience is to be a beacon of strength for others, and what is an Ars Magi but a beacon of strength?

But that doesn’t mean she can’t take a break, either. Nothing recharges the soul like a day off with some close friends. If she can manage to make any.

Background: The Sokolovs, many years back, hailed from the northern reaches of the continent. When the Sanctums were established they traveled south, taking their name, language, and many of their customs with them. It was a hard journey after the First Void, and a harder life adjusting to their new home. But they were Russian, when there still was such a place, and they endured. They left behind anything they could not carry, they sold much of what they could, and in the end they clung only to the clothes on the back and their instruments. To leave them behind would have been to surrender, and that was unthinkable. They arrived in Baeterrae penniless and took generations to claw their way to the meagre finances they now possess. But they had their talent and their experience and in their art they found solace. Music kept them sane, and volunteering their services to defend the fledgling city kept them sheltered and fed.

That has been their lot since, and the life to which Rivka was born. She mastered her art, she worked the jobs that she could find, and on her own volition she took up sport shooting. A skill that at once made her more capable and gave her a chance to pad the family coffers with prize money. And she got very, very good at it. The art of a rifle proved just as natural to her touch as an instrument, and she loved it. It was an empowering thing to excel at and her admittedly pessimistic demeanor tilted, just a little, towards hope.

And when she found out that she had the potential to be an Ars Magi she didn’t hesitate to apply. It was a chance to provide hope that she could never match on her own.

Gladius: A semiautomatic, over-under double barreled magitech rifle with flip up leaf sights and a detachable bayonet. A gleaming, ornate weapon in blued steel with red-hued opalescent inlay.

Parma: A stylized uniform with a royal purple shoulder cape on her right. A pair of shooting glasses with lenses like opals appear over her eyes, and the highlights in her hair take on a similar hue. These points, and the inlay of her Gladius, begin to fluoresce faintly red when using her Elementum.

Elementum: Fire

Elementum Abilities: Fire, combustion, and general heat are aspects of the Elementum at Rivka’s disposal. She can fire or control flame, heat objects, and generate some lift with these flames. In time she might learn some degree of flight with them. More directly she can channel her Elementum through her Gladius, firing rounds equivalent to truly incredible HE or HEAP shots depending on whether precision or sheer force is more important. She can also superheat its bayonet, be it attached or in her hand, to cleave and pierce much more easily. The lenses of her Parma help protect her eyes from the light produced by the extreme ends of her Elementum.

Secundi Lux

Rivka Sokolov

Age: 17

Sanctum City: Baeterrae, Vesta

Description: A little above average height with a fit, limber build and long, long hair. The last is the first thing anyone will notice considering her tendency to dye it whatever color strikes her, most recently a deep purple. It hangs down past Rivka’s back and she keeps it neat and styled despite how much maintenance it takes her. Her skin, despite their necessary emigration, reflects her northern ancestry; a pale starting point that is hard to miss regardless of any given month's tanning. Despite her vibrant hair her attire skews towards the darker, more muted end of the color spectrum; blacks, maroons, navies, and such. Rivka has a dark jacket she wears as soon as the air is cold enough and even sometimes in stubborn defiance of the heat.

It’s uncommon to see Rivka in her own time without a firearm case or an instrument, both belonging to pastimes that she greatly enjoys.

Personality: Stoic and resolute, with a contrasting penchant for the arts and a disposition that borders on lazy. A mix that seems at once abrasive and contradictory becomes much more understandable if you persevere past her standoffish exterior. The decline of humanity to a handful of cities is a tragedy, one to be endured, but not to be endured without release; art is a way to process the world, to bolster the spirit, and to defy the monsters that would burden humanity. Music is her own preference, but she enjoys the expression found in all the arts. But the world is a harsh place too, and competitive shooting gives her another outlet. One that makes her much, much harder to take out than the average danger manages.

Endure, she says, but never in silence.. To suffer in silence is to suffer alone, and that path is simply a longer road to madness. To speak of your experience is to be a beacon of strength for others, and what is an Ars Magi but a beacon of strength?

But that doesn’t mean she can’t take a break, either. Nothing recharges the soul like a day off with some close friends. If she can manage to make any.

Background: The Sokolovs, many years back, hailed from the northern reaches of the continent. When the Sanctums were established they traveled south, taking their name, language, and many of their customs with them. It was a hard journey after the First Void, and a harder life adjusting to their new home. But they were Russian, when there still was such a place, and they endured. They left behind anything they could not carry, they sold much of what they could, and in the end they clung only to the clothes on the back and their instruments. To leave them behind would have been to surrender, and that was unthinkable. They arrived in Baeterrae penniless and took generations to claw their way to the meagre finances they now possess. But they had their talent and their experience and in their art they found solace. Music kept them sane, and volunteering their services to defend the fledgling city kept them sheltered and fed.

That has been their lot since, and the life to which Rivka was born. She mastered her art, she worked the jobs that she could find, and on her own volition she took up sport shooting. A skill that at once made her more capable and gave her a chance to pad the family coffers with prize money. And she got very, very good at it. The art of a rifle proved just as natural to her touch as an instrument, and she loved it. It was an empowering thing to excel at and her admittedly pessimistic demeanor tilted, just a little, towards hope.

And when she found out that she had the potential to be an Ars Magi she didn’t hesitate to apply. It was a chance to provide hope that she could never match on her own.

Gladius: A semiautomatic, over-under double barreled magitech rifle with flip up leaf sights and a detachable bayonet. A gleaming, ornate weapon in blued steel with red-hued opalescent inlay.

Parma: A stylized uniform with a royal purple shoulder cape on her right. A pair of shooting glasses with lenses like opals appear over her eyes, and the highlights in her hair take on a similar hue. These points, and the inlay of her Gladius, begin to fluoresce faintly red when using her Elementum.

Elementum: Fire

Elementum Abilities: Fire, combustion, and general heat are aspects of the Elementum at Rivka’s disposal. She can fire or control flame, heat objects, and generate some lift with these flames. In time she might learn some degree of flight with them. More directly she can channel her Elementum through her Gladius, firing rounds equivalent to truly incredible HE or HEAP shots depending on whether precision or sheer force is more important. She can also superheat its bayonet, be it attached or in her hand, to cleave and pierce much more easily. The lenses of her Parma help protect her eyes from the light produced by the extreme ends of her Elementum.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

It might be the most lackluster post I've ever written but I did get it done. Thank you again for your patience.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Mentions/Interactions: @VitaVitaAR @Crimson Paladin @PaulHaynek [@RainehDaze]

Not everything that is gone is dead.

Of course not.

Nicomede felt a brief, unwelcome stab of sympathy; not for the unlamented Damon Cal, for even the politest final words did nothing to change his mind. He had long become a monster by deed whatever he had been. His death filled the former noble with nothing but satisfaction that he would never be able to harm anyone else again, and perhaps he could regain something of the man he had been in the embrace of the goddesses. His soul was not Nicomede's concern; only that it be sent on with due haste. No, the sympathy was reserved for Damon Cal's descendants. And with it a touch of empathy, too.

He wasn't dead, but he might as well be. Dead and gone were not synonymous but too often they had the same effect. The man he had been would not return, so was there really much difference? He regarded the head in Tyaethe's hand with something approaching regret as the monster's warning turned back time for just a moment. But it passed, and his considerations vanished quickly beneath the needs of the moment. There were still enemies, still a hostage to save, and work to be done. He cleaned his sword with a flick almost contemptuously and nodded his agreement to Fleuri before following the other knight down the stairs.

"Inconsiderate of him, really." He commented over his shoulder to Tyaethe with a touch of humor, flicking his chin briefly at the once and former vampire's body. "Ducking responsibilities like that."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

I would request just one more day, if that's alright. I'm really holding things up, I know, and if I can't kick myself into getting a post done by tomorrow I fully understand you guys getting a move on without me.

I should be able to get one done tonight, and if not tonight then in my downtime tomorrow. I've only got one class on the schedule tomorrow.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

>tfw we're alive


On a more serious note, it's glad to hear from ya. I wish you the best of luck in finishing your requirements. I'll try to get a post out sometime soon, but I'll need a bit of time to reacquaint myself with the setting and the characters, heh.

@Hawthorne

No rush at all. If I ever really give up the ghost I'll say so, otherwise I'm just slammed. Glad at least some of you guys are still around.