Mortim

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Darsby is reminded of the youth before him by her immediate and emotional reactions. Anora is young, prodigiously young. She is in fact so inconveniently young, in comparison to himself, she may as well have been a fly on its second day of living set to accompany a sixty-year-old retiree who decided that working another day is well worth it by the long run. This metaphor may be found to apply in many respects.

In his defense, Darsby is set into physical and emotional action by severe injuries sustained during his unspeakable captivity in this weak body. He is actually, by recent natures, a quiet homebody of sorts. His days of dutifully milling about with his as of yet unseen familiar in tasks of constructing greater magics were treasured days indeed. Now, the enormity of annoyance set to accompany his present task had begun setting in after witnessing our girl dash quickly from left to right in both physicality and perspective. Her lack of knowledge allowed her to be propelled from taking on the guardianship of an entire hospital to abandoning all of its residents in less than a minute of thought. Under the sight of tremendously aged eyes, she was momentarily likened to an infant rodent in its early days of self-discovery.

'This helps no one' Thought Darsby to himself, pulling his mind from its dust-caked labyrinths of contemplation. He must continue to emulate Anora's youngness in himself for his present tools were comparable to her own. He must not be fully discovered unless absolutely necessary, lest heat greater than hellfire potentially consume all Earth.

"The Men in Black were killed centuries ago. Also, the Secondary Ministries cleaning crew doesn't even operate on Earth. Otherwise... Never mind." Darsby replied in frank frustration after initial confusion over her question. Her pop references had somehow struck upon facts entirely unrelated to their present situation. His feet had spun him into walking towards and entering the car shortly after she yelled at him to join.

"I'm not an agent. Plus,-" Darsby looks over to Anora with another wave of frustrated confusion overtaking him, his door now shutting with an insulated *thud!* "- how do you have anywhere to be? What else could possibly seem important to you right now?" Stress painted a response which took Anora's words far too seriously as sirens closed proximity on our pairs present location. Darsby opened his palms to hopelessly gesture towards this ebon-clad girl near him, his revolver held loosely by a thin finger. Eventually, he scoffed, sighed, and tightened his hands whilst curling into his seat with a gesture of someone who's given up on figuring out whatever it was they were once trying to resolve.

"What is your deal?" Darsby would say more to himself than anyone else after the question of an invisibility spell is raised. People who were both new to magic and younger than five centuries were not a category of individuals he'd associated with for quite some time now for reasons of his own. Obviously, this personal dilemma was catching up to him.

Darsby snapped his fingers to perform what he would deem more immediately important magic than invisibility regardless as to whether or not Anora had begun speaking, in fact, Darsby may have waited until Anora began speaking simply to interrupt her. He would have done so without looking directly at her as to not be suspected of childish spite. Someone of his unrevealed rank could hardly be caught being needlessly spiteful. Regretfully, it's a mild habit of his.

The moment Darsby snaps an entirely foreign set of sensations will overtake Anora. Her skin would feel as if it had liquefied, this tingling maelstrom of nerve-based calamity creeping into her muscles then shortly into her skeletal structure. All sensation is folded into itself, her once whole body is melted to take the shape of a curdling wave of chaotic colds and hots. Light and heat splinter her innards whilst rivulets of ice pierce the entirety of what may have once been called her spine. She swirls and bobs as her vision follows suit to this chaotic existence. Roads wrap around the sky and buildings tumble like laundry inside a lazily swirling washer. Anora's perceived world had spun violently again and again as all rules pertaining to balance and gravity are eaten up by liquid dismay. Then all at once, as if her body were a cup and the entirety of her consciousness is a tall drink, she'd be reassembled via 'filling up' the allotted space in her freshly stolen vehicle. Her body and our encapsulating van remained exactly as they were before hell had overtaken them, except, their location had changed after being harshly put back together. Somehow she'd been moved quite a distance during that vivid conundrum. They were on some vaguely familiar country road miles from the city. County road 15 stretched in meandering streaks far into the gently rolling distance ahead. Darsby sits next to Anora, only now he is painted an even paler shade than before. His now truly ivory skin shakes and stretches against an emaciated exterior, that body of his curling into the seat it occupies as if it were but a small creature in a world of menacing giants.

*Hurp!* A hand reflexively grasps at Darsby's mouth as the other feverishly clamors for the nearest door handle. He leaps from the unmoving vehicle to vomit as a pitiful mess of hospital robes and ragged pink hair amidst tall tan weeds. His shoulders heave around an overly curved spine whilst either hand braces a cold hard earth. Fluids spill into waxen roots with each primitive howl of intestinal dismay.

Eventually, the sickness subsides and our callous escort slumps back upon his sprawling legs. His hunched form holds little pride as either eye remains closed above panting lips. He takes deep and labored breaths, feeling waves of sharp heat stick needles into his stomach and chest.

"How do you...-" Darsby pauses to breath and lick his lips before continuing. "-I think I've... I've forgotten what it's like to be weak.." For once, his emotional walls were markedly broken beneath closed eyes. His lack of magic reserves and physical stamina had tapped into a voice he hadn't used for a thousand years. This sight, in all its natural calamity, was something of a novelty. Centuries had passed in awaiting this lack of self-restraint.
"I'm not-.." He'd continue, pausing to take several short breaths in expectation of either tears or another wave of regurgitation. "-..I'm not a god Anora... I'm not-I promise...-" He heaves as if nearing another rough spell. He sounds more like a drunk than anything else. "-.. Your planet is small; it's so small... I'm so far awa-*BLEAUughghUHGHu!*" That thin frame topples forward again, bile and dry heaves wrack him about trembling bones. There's nothing left to spit up despite all best efforts. He's ice cold to the touch and looking more human than he has since properly meeting Anora.

The revolver never leaves his hand. Should Anora touch the weapon, she'd be lightly shocked as if by static and met with a gentle and weak "..stop, please.." from Darsby.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

I always appreciate you sending these bits of knowledge and experience my way! Writing skill means nothing if it's not used properly. I'm glad to be getting a little better at putting my ability to use in its proper channels whenever you have more to say.
I understand you feeling as though that last hider belongs in my post. I put it in there just in case you needed it for reference. Better safe than sorry.

Anora might feel some twangs of pain, pleasure, and a mixture of other emotions/sensations. You could liken the experience to her body being somehow harmlessly turned inside out and exposed to strong winds/pressures before being flipped back into itself and returned to total normality. There wouldn't be any lasting effects aside from perhaps empty lungs upon initial re-entry. Her hands, legs, and everything else will be exactly where they were before the magic is used.

We'll see if they catch up as fast as I suspect they might for you to find out ;D

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

I definitely understand that life happens, no worries lol.

Darsby's powers started the car so Anora shouldn't have to worry there. I'll have a hider on here for what happens if she gets in. I hope its okay for me to write all of that out? I know her perspective on the matter will be set aside from what I've described. I just wanted to give you a picture of what would happen the moment she gets in the car.

'car magic stuff'

The moment Anora fully enters the car in pursuit of Darsby an entirely new set of sensations will overtake her. Firstly, her car door shuts in result to some unseen magnetic force pressing lightly against the vehicle; from there, everything is unnatural. Her skin would feel as if it had liquefied, this tingling maelstrom of nerve-based calamity creeping into her muscles then shortly into her skeletal structure. All sensation is folded into itself, her once whole body is melted to take the shape of a curdling wave of chaotic colds and hots. Light and heat splinter her innards whilst rivulets of cold pierce the entirety of what may have once been called her spine. She swirls and bobs as her vision follows suit to this chaotic existence. Roads wrap around the sky as buildings tumble like laundry inside a lazily swirling washer. Anora's perceived world had spun violently again and again as all rules pertaining to balance and gravity are eaten up by liquid dismay. Then all at once, as if her body were a cup and the entirety of her consciousness is a tall drink, she'd be reassembled via 'filling up' the allotted space in her freshly stolen vehicle. Her body and our encapsulating van remained exactly as they were before hell had overtaken them, except, their location had changed after being harshly put back together. Somehow she'd been moved quite a distance during that horribly experienced conundrum. They were on some country road quite a distance from the city. County road 15 stretched in meandering streaks far into the gently rolling distance ahead. Darsby sits next to Anora, only now he is painted an even paler shade than before. His truly ivory skin shakes and stretches against an emaciated exterior, that body of his curling into the seat it occupies as if it were but a small creature in a world of menacing giants.

Side note: He totally is being tracked ;P

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Darsby had become distant the moment he'd stepped from the hospital. Goal-oriented drive enveloped his mind in swathes of deliberate planning he felt he'd likely need to make. Anora appeared kind and dependable to him so long as she wasn't given a scenario which contradicted good morals. This had its uses and downfalls in their present circumstance. From his perspective, she'd be invaluable upon finally leaving the hospital premises; contrasting this, she would become a hindrance should she see this predicament as her responsibility. An inexperienced native magic user against the possible beasts to be faced here would require excruciating guidance Darsby is far from presently being able to provide without extreme action. Then, he felt her hand.

What she'd first perceive is cold, porcelain skin; its surface is smooth to the touch yet as unyielding as stone. Darsby would likely be a marvel if he weren't notably trembling, those labored lurches one might call a stride full of an exhausted malaise. Her grasp had pulled him from his deliberation to face the very thing he was deliberating over. She was more present in this event than he likely had been from the beginning. Her fresh, young eyes held many wonders he'd somehow misplaced some time ago.

"You do your people an injustice." Darsby would firmly state, wrenching his hand from Anora's grasp with whatever physical strength he could muster. Despite all weakness, something about this man was undoubtedly resolute. One could think they'd be able to peel away every bit of his body before his mind and speech would give in to any demand but his own.
"Do you honestly believe humanity has no defense for this?-" An unknown plagued Darsby's features, something Anora hadn't yet seen. Genuine distaste split the air between them, his features wrinkling into mildly angered disgust for the first time. His emotions had a disarming purity to them as if each separate feeling had been worn into place by vast breadths of time. "-The very forces prepared for these threats are about to make our lives a lot harder the second they arrive." He didn't appear to have any reason for lies here. In fact, one could say there were hints of unease over these spoken truths.

Our once more callous hospital patient immediately continued his sickly limp to the nearest car after initially speaking. Upon reaching a black family van, and likely taking little heed to whatever retort Anora may have had, Darsby goes to work. He snaps several times, thin bands of electricity arcing from his finger to collide with the car. The van's two front doors open as if by some powerful magnetic force, it's engine roaring to life by a vigorous howl. Darsby then moves as if to step into the passenger seat, yet, he stops halfway there. Gently, one hand is placed on the hood of the car to support him as he half-turns towards Anora.

"Look, it makes sense. You can help, so you want to. But, is it your job? Or are the people who do this for a living nothing more than an after-thought?-" Darsby's typically exhausted nature has once more overtaken him as he finishes turning towards his young companion to address her fully. "-Right now you have somewhere you need to go. I intend to get you there." Truthfully, Darsby was betting more than he'd be likely to share on those last words. He wasn't entirely sure she was his first lead, but she'd caused him a hell of a lot of inconveniences, and he'd be damned if she didn't owe him for that.

Regardless as to all these events, the initial emergency personnel are closing fast. They'd likely be overwhelmed in less than a minute, police and other such institutions have been on their way for quite some time before Darsby and Anora's exit from the hospital. Escape from this parking lot itself was far less unlikely than one should count on. Leaving in a car, let alone on foot, was more of a fantasy by each passing second. You couldp ractically see flashing lights entering our respective parking lot already.

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"Yea... Yeah, we're on our way. Don't worry about clean-up. You know I don't mind paperwork." Thin, leathery fingers pull a cellular device from its familiar position near an enamored expression. Drake didn't mind his job; in fact, he rather enjoyed it. Communicating with his superiors over small incidents like this were hardly ever a hassle. Yet, he had a bad feeling in his gut that the current case he's following is going to be anything but simple. After just now getting off the phone with local HQ he'd at least make a simple task of covering this blouth event.

Red and blue lights screamed alongside their companion sirens up ahead, several law enforcement vehicles peeling through a four-way intersection on their way to what's being presently reported as a terrorist shooting. Drake's leather-coated foot presses ever-harder into the gas of his jet-black vehicle, it's sport engine booming into the ambiance of this small city. He and his partner were close behind the cops on this.

"I've finished the shroud. Don't expect anything else out of me today." Rippling muscles throb in contrast to powerful effeminate features next to drake in the passenger seat of his Camaro. His dominant wizard partner had spoken, her callous voice caked in its constantly conceited overtones.
"I would never." Drake responds after passing her a sidelong glance. 'She'd be beautiful if she didn't think the world was beneath her' He thinks to himself after shortly resuming his focus on the road ahead. He never minded small events like this, they were easy to cover-up with memory-magic and minor conflict. Regrettably, the one these two are genuinely tracking is anything but a small-time target.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

It's totally fine! I'd have no reason to be upset over someone helping to be a better RPer lol. I'm always incredibly grateful for how understanding you are. I'll definitely be working to leave more up to Anora.
I'll be sure to if I see any major errors on your part.

If Anora does get in the car, Darsby will have some interesting magic for her to experience.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

You're a seriously amazing RP partner to have! Thank you so much for being real with me and humbling me in regards to RPing on here and working to control only what should be under my reigns. I'll go to correct that now.

He's rather exhausted so it depends on how persistent Anora is as to whether or not he evades her. If she goes to grab him or step in his way he would initially stop. I'll cut the post off at that first quote you grabbed.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

I hope I didn't overstep my bounds in that last post. I promise I'll be much less controlling of your character from here on out. If she didn't do something that I made it seem like she did then just let me know and I'll edit my post. I don't want to be overbearing.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

'Well.. She understands instruction.' Darsby grins to himself, knowing the value of someone who can understand commands far exceeds that of a needlessly rebellious free-thinker. His eyes, imbued with complex magics, steer from left to right for observation of a fading barrier. Blouth alpha's trap their prey in invisible cages few can detect. Luckily, escaping the barrier is always as easy as eliminating the nearest alpha.

Darsby spins on his heel to turn into following Anora. He feels his sealed body quake in protest to the sudden movement, tremors surging upwards from either trembling knee. "Crap.." He mumbles to himself whilst taking a moment to deliberate over his present situation. Circumstance dictates healing is less essential than escape, using whatever magic stores remain to achieve this goal is paramount. Blouth aren't our pair's only worry; there will undoubtedly be influential earth-based organizations coming to investigate this magic-filled event.

"Lestiess-Lestuary" Grey smoke permeates the air surrounding Darsby as ethereal words pass into conscious space near him via supernatural speech. His body merges with the smoke, splitting into several surging tendrils of cool mist. These flowing masses rend the air in passing through the window Anora shattered. Said grey mass reassembles itself into Darsby's familiar form once having emerged from the hospital.

"We're taking one of these metal wagons. You're piloting." Darsby speaks quickly, weakly gesturing with his gun towards the nearest parking lot. He begins to hobble in that ordered direction, his bare feet softly pattering against pavement and grass.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

Sorry about the wait here! Just had another visit to the hospital so I got pretty pre-occupied. I'm working on a response now though.

My swimming instructors a dragon. [Mortim / Siaya Dragalorn]

"You don't have the sense for it yet." Darsby gave a quick response to Anora's earlier question as to why he was sniffing the open air.
"..Body Snatchers..?" Would be his self-directed answer to her question over the looming threat, his relatively alien origin offering no assistance in explaining her societal slang. After this pair came upon the beast, things may have unfolded in haste.

The aberration, having instinctually sensed Anora's preparation to catch it, moved only too late to avoid her grasp. After darting to the left, her net would have wrapped its crackling surface over one moist, pulsating exterior. The beast writhes and twitches, squirming moment after moment whilst Darsby neglects to fire upon it. Our frail wizard's arm rises, ready to shoot, though his aim appears to be slightly above the captured entity.

"They're called Blouth's. These are the scouts of their species. I need you to hold it; we're drawing out the nearest Alpha... Assuming there's only one.." As if in recognition of Darsby's dry tone of voice and it's nutshelled explanation of current events, the creature ceases its movements to begin a process of signaling whatever brethren may be nearest.

The blouth scout curls its legs into itself, shuddering in paced succession as aberrant croaks slip from its glowing orifice. The entirety of the fiend swells before croaking, deflating as each crackling reverberation clashes with the silence about it.

"With the doors sealed shut like this, we're facing a pack. They were drawn to me when I forced a quick recovery. If we kill the nearest Alpha, it's possible we can escape through the closest window. The barrier section it's maintaining might cease for a moment." Darsby's voice may hold it's typical level of exasperation, yet somehow he sounded severe. This explanation was meant to give Anora a slight picture of things before it all comes to a head.

*Creeeee!* A door several yards behind the blouth scout slowly opens. One trembling foot slams clumsily against the ground just beyond the now open threshold. The thing eventually emerging can only be described as a horror. What was once the female law-holder, the cop we'd previously witnessed in the ER, was now an emergent scourge of the mind. Her entire body was caked in crimson and yellow fluids all the way to the tips of toes and fingers. Her chest was that of shredded cloth and bulging blue tubes tightly wrapped against sundered flesh. Her head no longer rested atop this shambling form, all that remains is one massive orifice emitting intense beams of ethereal blue light from where a neck should be. Small claw-like tendrils twitch and flail all about its upper body.

"Remember, look away from the light!" Darsby would quickly say as he closes his eyes. Should Anora have gazed into the light, she would instantly feel her mind slipping, as if she were only a faint wisp of mist near an enormous tornado.

*BANG!BANG!BANG!* Three bullets are loosed from his weapon in quick, precise succession. Firstly, the scout is hit through Anora's barrier. Yellow fluids spray everywhere several yards from them as if having burst from a paint-filled balloon. Next, two rounds are loosed directly into the chest of our freshly presented nightmare, impact causing either clumsy leg to stumble several steps backward.

"Crap..-" Darsby grumbles as his second target fails to collapse via blind accuracy. "-Anora, get to the closest window and break it on my signal. We'll sprint for your car. I'll be right behind you." His voice, holding that quaint severity, is like the eye of a storm. Regardless as to all happenings about him, he remains only faintly moved from his typical tantrums of exhausted callousness.

Darsby relinquishes a deliberate sigh as his weapon-occupied hand begins to tremble visibly. Focus paints his features in narrow lines against an angular surface of sharp cheekbones and steep temples. Slight ebon threads swirl in ethereal spirals near his barrel, some faintly visible magic being prepared from oblivion as the targetted entity in it's proposed trajectory is nearly recovered.

*BANGBANGBANG!* Three bullets, nearly sounding like one, emerge from metallic chambers. These projectiles collide, yet, rather than exploding with momentum against fleshy surfaces, act as blades with powerful cutting force. What was once a headless opponent is now separated into three sections of twitching mass before one could blink. All three substantial chunks slide for several meters away from the location of impact.

Darsby opens his eyes, looking about him. He shows expectation for Anora to be away from his side, standing by the nearest window. Should she be, he'd be obliged to shout "Now!" and attempt her transport through shattered glass. Should she not be, or if our madam followed a separate course of actions, some entirely different chain of events may have been prone to unfold.