Obscene Symphony

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

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Maya’s landing in Edmund’s arms wasn’t much gentler than her landing on the chandelier, and the rigid edges of his armour would be sure to leave her with even more bruises. But she didn’t care; at that point, she took little notice of her injuries, gasping instead with equal parts relief and surprise that she’d fallen into her Templar’s arms and not the marble floor. She clung to him like a life preserver, maintaining a white-knuckled grip on his armour as he sped away. The moment Maya braved a look beyond Edmund’s shoulder, she was rewarded with the sight of more pursuers, before they were abruptly cut back in a sickening shower of blood, the assailants falling screaming to the floor. She had neither the time nor presence of mind to decipher what she saw; they were chasing her, and then they were on the ground, with nothing separating the moments but a shadowy blur. Had Kasper come to her rescue? It was impossible to know; she only looked for a second before burying her face in fear.

Somehow, Edmund got the two of them out of the ballroom, but the shock of cold winter air comforted Maya none until several minutes had passed and the gunfire had faded into the distance. For a long time, she dared not look; but after a little while, the adrenaline of the situation began to subside, and in its place rose the pain she’d been ignoring. By the time Edmund boarded her onto a train - she was too distracted to wonder about its source or destination, only happy that it seemed to be staffed by Veradis soldiers and not Kaudian captors - her whole body was a dull thrum of pain, her individual injuries standing out sharply and troubling her more the longer she sat.

When the train finally came to a stop, every little movement was agony; each breath was accompanied by a sharp, stabbing pain, she couldn’t even hope to walk, and she was sure there were a hundred other injuries waiting for their turn to raise their voice among the aching chorus. Tears brimmed her eyes, but she didn’t make a sound. Her chest hurt too much to draw the breath to cry.

Edmund brought her inside somewhere, and a woman spoke to them, but Maya wasn’t listening. The relative calm was just insult added to injury, giving her nothing else to focus on but her pain. Edmund brought her to a new room, this one crawling with white-clad people in surgical masks and gloves, paramedics with the symbol of Incepta’s Star comfortingly embroidered on their uniforms.

Edmund set Maya down at last on a cot and turned to leave, but Maya didn’t let him. A spike of fear shot through her as he turned, and she caught his wrist before he could go, clinging to him with all her might.

“No! Wait!” she exclaimed, immediately cringing at the pain in her ribs. The tears that had been loitering in her eyes finally spilled over, and she hugged herself. Her voice came out as a quiet sob. “Don’t leave me.”

Edmund sighed, his back to Maya as she held on to him. After a moment, he relented and turned to face her. With the tiniest pulse of mana, the armor retracted back into the crystal on his chest, which he used his free hand to remove and pocket. He let Maya hold tightly on to his wrist as he took a step closer. “I will stay a moment as the healers do their work,” he said softly, with clear exhaustion on his face. He paused a moment, studying Maya’s panicked expression, before adding, “Take a breath. We are not in danger for this moment.”

Maya’s breath quickened, the relief of Edmund’s reply allowing the rest of her emotions to overwhelm her. She tried for a moment to close the floodgates, but it was no use; tears fell in droves and quiet sobs wracked her frame, Maya wincing as she cried and burying her face into Edmund’s arm. After a moment, a medic gently pried her off of him, Maya relinquishing her grip on his wrist only when a nurse coaxed her behind a curtain so she could disrobe for examination - and only after repeated assurances that Edmund wasn’t going to leave.

The examination was mercifully brief; the medic used a device to scan Maya’s painful spots (after a moment of convincing her that “everywhere” wasn’t a sufficient description) and diagnosed two cracked ribs, several breaks in her ankle, some puncture wounds on her chest, and a broad smattering of bumps and bruises.

“Half an hour in a Damias should do the trick for you, Your Holiness,” the medic concluded, placing an adhesive patch on her upper arm. Maya’s pain immediately began to subside, reducing quickly from all-encompassing agony to only a dull throb in her ribs and ankle. A new, potentially drug-induced calm washed over her, and for the first time since their escape, Maya drew a deep breath. She nodded.

The medic looked to Edmund. “Are you injured, Sir? We can take care of you while Her Holiness is in treatment.”

Edmund simply shook his head. “No… I’m fine right now. I’ll let you know if that changes.” He was lying through his teeth, but getting checked out was at the bottom of his list of priorities. He poked his head in to check on Maya, giving her his patented stoic nod. She seemed calmer by his approximation. “Maya… they’re going to keep an eye on you while I check in with Dame Albakova, but I will be here with one phone call. I’m not going to let these cultists hurt you.” Edmund’s hands balled into fists for a moment, knuckles white as nails dug into his palm. “I swear it.”

Maya was indeed calmer; the painkiller patch seemed to affect more than just her pain, but she wasn’t going to question it. She was, however, still uneasy when Edmund announced his plan to leave. She had a protest ready on her lips when she took notice of his tone; fists balled up and posture stiff, even in her growing medicated haze Maya could tell that her Templar was gravely serious. She wasn’t entirely trustful of the security of their new locale - she’d been confident in Giles’ security too, she recalled bitterly - but something about Edmund’s resolve was comforting enough to earn him a nod.

“Okay,” she reluctantly agreed, repeating the word she uttered just before her fall. This time felt like just as much of a leap of faith. As she allowed the medic to assist her onto a stretcher, she considered insisting that Edmund come back quickly as soon as he was free. However, something told her it didn’t need to be said.

---

Collab with @webboysurf

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Navigating the crowd felt like fighting against the ocean; Jannick could barely make it a few steps before he was jostled this way or that, flinching violently at every unexpected touch as if they were all a new opponent. Sometimes he was right; as he searched for his Scion, he was set upon several more times by masked suspects, melting in and out of the crowd like ghosts as they tried their luck against the Templar of Wind. That said, he might as well have been Officer Weber again: aside from his armour, which saved his sorry hide more than once in the scuffle, his near-total lack of command over his element made Jannick easy to mistake for any other cop on the Veradis beat. Fortunately, he’d been selected as a Templar for a reason, and his opponents, while zealous, were little more; but while he fended them off well enough to keep himself alive, he wasn’t making any real progress.

Soon, the doors burst open and the cavalry arrived, but the relief Jannick would normally feel from the arrival of backup was deadened by the desperation of his situation. It was all he could do to stay standing under the attackers’ oppressive assault, let alone protect his Scion, who was nowhere to be found. And without the magic on display by the other Templars who could actually do their jobs, there was little he could do to tip the scales in his favour; sick to his stomach at the prospect, he was struggling to hold his own as he waited to be rescued.

But rescue did come in the unlikeliest of forms: moments after Dame Irina’s arrival, Hollyhock burst through the crowd, grasping for Jannick’s hand and pulling him toward the bright new exit. Jannick’s heart jumped; for a second, he almost thought she was another attacker. He didn’t need to hear Holly’s message; as if willed by the Mother, he saw a path open up to the doors and broke into a sprint in that direction, his gauntleted hand like a vise on Hollyhock’s. He was surprised by her speed - or rather, her lack of it. Normally, Holly propelled herself around like a hurricane, but on their now-opened path he soon felt himself overtaking and then all but dragging her behind him. He had no time to worry if she was injured or to question her over the problem; he had only the mind to charge out of the ballroom and down the road, following Irina’s orders with all haste.

As the pair left the blinding light of a ring of utility vehicles shining their headlights into the ballroom and disappeared into the darkness on the road, Jannick could still hear the popping of gunshots all around them. Mercifully, that shameful chorus was soon drowned under the drumbeat of hurried footsteps and his own laboured breath.

---

@OwO

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Maya clutched Edmund’s bulletproof cape around her, cowering behind his armoured form until he took off to deal with the incoming assailants, leaving her alone.

One arm hooked around the chandelier chain, Maya looked frantically around at the darkness, seeing intimidating shapes in the shadows and assuming every gunshot she heard was aimed in her direction. Her breathing quickened, each breath sharp and inadequate as her heart thundered against her chest. A few times she raised her gun at a shape in the darkness, but she could never make out enough of a target to fire; probably for the better, considering how her gun hand quaked.

Edmund was little more than footsteps in the blackness around her, the sound never clearly friend or foe, and Maya found herself wishing he hadn’t left; she felt alone, dreadfully alone, in a moment of terror that stretched on forever. She found herself longing for someone, even an enemy, to appear - if only to put an end to her tormentous suspense.

Incepta must have been listening, because Maya got her wish.

Heralded by an ominous red light from the floor, a loud noise ripped through the ballroom. Maya didn’t have time to wonder what it meant; her stomach heaved as her grip on gravity was suddenly cut off, and much like the assailants on the zip lines Edmund severed, Maya was sent careening head-first into the darkness.

She screamed. She was only suspended for an instant, sliding down along the chandelier chain like a fireman’s pole, before she came painfully to rest on one of the chandelier’s arms. Gold-plated ivy leaves rammed into Maya’s ribs, and she was sure she felt one crack; but that was of lesser concern as the chandelier itself jolted downward, remaining aloft by the grace of the Mother alone.

Maya clung on for dear life, heedless of the pain in her ribs. Her legs swung freely below her, scrambling for purchase, but there was no foothold to be found. “Edmund-- help me--” she sputtered, pain and terror confining her voice to little more than a frayed whisper. But she couldn’t imagine how he could help her, especially if he fell when she did. Edmund might be a broken mess on the floor right now, and then she’d have no chance--

"Maya... we are leaving. Now."

Maya gasped at the sound of Edmund’s voice, her gut quivering once more as she felt the force pulling her down lessen. But it was far from gone; she was still dangling over three storeys at least of empty space, and if she let go of her precarious perch, she would still certainly fall.

“H-how..?” she stammered, only audible to herself. Her heart pounded, and her head began to swim, but she was torn from her panicked speculation by the startlingly close whirrr of another zipline. This time, she could see the glowing eyes of her assailant ascending from the darkness below to meet her.

“Okay,” Maya gasped, taking a few quick breaths to steel herself. At the end of the last one, she held it, squeezing her eyes shut as she released her perch and fell.

---

@webboysurf

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Jannick smiled gratefully at Hollyhock, relieved and surprised in equal measure that she released him for a smoke. He was well aware of her opinion on his habit - the first few cigarettes dunked in water glasses had gotten her point across quite clearly enough for his taste - so the party must have gotten her in quite the pleasant mood not even to make a snarky comment about how she could already hear the tumours growing.

Which, she probably wasn’t wrong, but…

He barely managed one step toward the balcony before a suspicious flicker in the lights stopped him in his tracks. Veradis, even in the poorer areas where Jannick grew up, never had trouble with the power grid, especially not on a calm night like this one, and especially not at the homes of the rich and powerful. Jannick squinted apprehensively at the light fixtures, hand wandering to his holster of its own accord when the room went dark completely.

Suddenly, glass crashed; Jannick ducked instinctively, and his gun was already in his hands when he whirled around at Hollyhock’s scream. A light went up somewhere in the ballroom, but it was almost worse than the darkness; it wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the entire room, and the long, kaleidoscopic shadows it cast of panicked civilians scrambling this way and that did more to confuse Jannick’s view of the situation than enhance it.

Gunfire filled the air, and Jannick’s instincts kicked into overdrive. He pawed for his radio to call in the threat, and when he realized he didn’t have one, found the next best thing; his armour crystal, slamming it into his chest. The situation was a policing nightmare: panicked civilians everywhere, gunmen coming out of the woodwork, and no way to call in backup - not that he had any to call in. And not that that mattered; his job was to end the threat or die trying, backup or none.

Before Jannick could tell Holly to get to the exit as quickly as possible, Sara chimed in with potentially the worst idea he’d ever heard. And what was worse, Holly immediately followed her instructions, which would have been excellent if her instructions made any sense.

“Wait, Holly--” Jannick reached out to stop her, but it was too late: she was already gone. Why on the Mother’s green earth would Sara want to collect the Scions inside the building?! The active shooter gospel for civilians was Run, Hide, Fight; Holly was very adept at the first one, but Sara seemed to want to skip straight to what was supposed to be a last resort.

“Fuck!” Jannick searched around in the chaos, gun already in his hands; he didn’t remember taking it out. More gunfire popped around him, suppressed, from several different directions, and suddenly, a woman collapsed in front of him, revealing a masked figure with a rifle.

“DROP THE WEAPON!” Jannick commanded, his training kicking in. He raised his gun, but it was worse than useless; in the dark, with so many civilians so close by, he couldn’t risk shooting. But the gunman didn’t care; he shot before the words had even left Jannick’s mouth, a burst of three shots peppering his shoulder ineffectively. The Templar armour was a lot more effective than kevlar, he’d give it that. Growling with in frustration, Jannick rushed the gunman, evidently inciting enough panic to make him hesitate and giving Jannick the chance to gain muzzle control on the rifle and pistol whip him with his Glock.

To Jannick’s considerable surprise, the gunman didn’t go down immediately; instead, he surrendered the rifle to disengage, stumbling back and producing a blade. Jannick only had a second to lament his lack of a melee weapon before the two of them had to duck to avoid falling debris; splintered wood and upholstery rained down on them from the sky, and a mostly-intact wooden chair leg fell at Jannick’s feet, as if sent by Incepta Herself.

That would work.

Hastily holstering his gun, the chair leg made for an effective club when the attacker ran at Jannick again, notably less coordinated this time; Jannick caught his blade in one armoured hand with ease and hit him repeatedly over the head with his improvised weapon, ceasing only when he was certain the masked thug wouldn’t stir again.

Jannick spared one pitiful glance at the injured woman before moving on; in these situations, there was no time to aid the wounded. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered that he needed to find Holly, but dispatching the gunmen felt more important; almost a decade of police training was rooted far deeper than his scant year of Templar training, after all. But he wasn’t given any time to debate the two; two more red masks emerged from the crowd, charging at Jannick together.

Jannick got one of them with the chair leg; he stumbled, confused enough to relent for a moment as the other drew a shortsword. Jannick blocked the blade just in time, the metal biting deep into the wood of his improvised club, and he took advantage of the swordsman’s distraction to kick one of his feet out from under him, throwing them both to the floor.

Jannick quickly wrestled himself on top of the masked man, the attacker’s lack of training evident as he writhed and swung his blade erratically, Jannick just out of reach on his back. When he could get a hand free, Jannick produced his gun once more and buried it between the swordsman’s shoulder blades, shooting straight down until he stopped moving.

Relieving the swordsman of his blade, Jannick stood to find the one he’d bashed with his club on his feet once more. This time, Jannick went on the offensive, burying his new sword into the second man’s abdomen before he had the chance to collect himself for an attack.

“What the fuck are you people after me for?” Jannick hissed as he let the body fall. He’d have time to be confused about the attacker’s targeting later; for now, he tried to orient himself, diving into the crowd in the direction he saw Hollyhock depart in. “HOLLY!”

---

@OwO mentioning @Stern Algorithm

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Maya’s eyes were fixed on the grappling hook rapidly tightening on the chandelier, when, behind it on the wall, her focus sharpened on a glimmer of purple light in the darkness, rapidly approaching. Edmund! He bounded onto the ceiling, sticking to every surface he ran on like a spider, and ran right past her, a few shots ringing out behind Maya as she assumed he took care of the one attacker who survived the fall.

“Edmund--!” Maya cried, cut off by shock at her own panicked breathing as Edmund crossed in front of her and cleanly dispatched the attacker scaling the grappling hook. When he finally returned to her, Maya had never been so happy to see him in her life - even his helmet, blending into the darkness in all but the pulsating glow of the trim, was the most welcome sight she could imagine. When he knelt, she reached out and grasped his arm with both hands, clutching his armour with a white-knuckled grip; she barely registered what he was saying to her, hearing little more than the chaos on the floor and her heartbeat in her ears until she saw the glint of steel in Edmund’s outstretched hand.

Maya blinked at the offering for a second before everything rushed back to her all at once: it was her sidearm, her PPK/S the one she always wore - except for tonight, because it ruined the lines of her dress and she was apparently foolish enough to think Giles could protect his home from terrorists - and Edmund needed her to keep them on the ceiling. Right, good idea; bad guys on the floor, stay on the ceiling.

Nodding mutely, Maya took the gun, heart and mind racing as she fumbled through practiced motions with shaking hands. Right, finger off the trigger, muzzle down, pull back the slide - it took a few tries to fight the spring, and she jumped when a bullet flew up in front of her, having forgotten in the panic that she carried with one in the chamber. As she fiddled with the gun, the pair of them grew suddenly heavier; startled, Maya let out a small noise, and they became much lighter, the gravity holding them growing and shrinking in quick chunks like someone clumsily turning a dial. For a brief moment, Maya felt herself float just barely off the ceiling; remnants of the chair that littered the ceiling escaped her grasp completely, as did the corpse of the first terrorist Edmund shot, both careening out of Maya’s grip and to the floor.

Frightened by the prospect of falling, Maya let out a more audible squeak, and her Holy Sigils flashed, slamming them both firmly back onto the ceiling. “I’m fine,” she cut off any possible remark from Edmund, her stern tone undermined by the crack of fear in her voice. Strength was not the problem: Maya was quite sure she could rip the whole roof off the building and chuck it into space if she wanted to. What she lacked was control; much like the Larme Incident, reversing gravity seemed second-nature enough, but as soon as Edmund brought it to the forefront of her mind, she felt her control begin to falter. She struggled to put it out of her mind, striving in vain to let her instincts take care of it.

From among the tumult of gunshots below, Maya heard the sound of crashing glass once more, the chandelier just above the two of them exploding into a shower of glass. Maya screamed, ducking down to hide her face. A few more shots followed, chunking away at the ceiling plaster, tracing a line toward them.

“Your cape!” Maya suddenly remembered, looking up to Edmund. “It’s bulletproof right? Give it to me!” She scrambled along the floor as another grappling hook found purchase on a different nearby chandelier, but was distracted by a somehow-audible shouting from the floor.

"EDMUND!" Sara called out, "Get her to Theobald!"

“What!?” Maya blurted out incredulously, shooting an incensed look at Edmund, “Like Sheol you are!”

Another shot chinked away at the plaster dangerously nearby, and with a frightened noise, Maya scrambled painfully to the base of the nearest chandelier, hoping to conceal herself under its crystal umbrella. She barked at Edmund. “That bear-fucking bitch is crazy if she thinks I'm going back down there!” Either that, or she was trying to make things easier for her gun-toting buddies on the floor.

---

@webboysurf mentioning @Stern Algorithm

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

While it was a chore for some and an anxious obligation for others, for Maya a gathering like this was a prime opportunity. This many relevant people in one place was an almost never event - in this case, literally once in a thousand years - and she was making the most of it. It was no wonder Edmund lost track of her; while some of her contemporaries spent their evening huddled in corners or stuffing their faces, Maya spent the night dancing around the room like a butterfly on the wind, touching just down long enough to share warm pleasantries, some earnest small talk, and (if she played her cards right) a picture or two before taking off again. She spent the entire evening that way, hobnobbing with figures from royalty, government, and even a few of the Scions she hadn’t met earlier in the night.

Erica Bachmeier, Scion Rosemary’s older sister and one of the Estoran Princes’ wives, was a doll who had warmly received her and insisted that Maya guess her baby’s gender (it was a boy); Maya’s followers would love those photos, although she’d been sworn to secrecy regarding the baby. Of course, she would obey: Maya wasn’t much for bonds of honour, but she was even less for getting on the royals’ bad side. That being said, Princess Belle of I’m-Better-Than-Yous-Burg had come over to exchange some veiled insults, the two young Scions trading disguised blows over lipsticked smiles for a few minutes before parting ways equally frustrated. Marchioness Lucienne made some wise cracks after that, something about the follies of youth, which Maya entertained only because she didn’t want her cutting clapback to be the last thing the old crone heard before she took a heart attack in the limo tonight or some other crap she’d have to hear about on the news in the morning.

Maya had a large social appetite, but even she was starting to fade. At long last she decided to take a breather, finding an empty chair at a table and sinking gratefully into it, draping the black fur stole that had been adorning her arms around the back of her chair. She flagged down a passing servant.

“Sparkling water please, with lime if you have it,” she smiled sweetly at the man as he bowed, the universal high society sign of ‘thank you, now get out of my sight,’ and promptly turned her attention to her smartphone, fanning through the photos she’d taken so far.

The servant didn’t return before a sudden flicker in the lights made her blink, and at first, Maya thought nothing of it. But it was followed by a second, and a third, and before Maya had the chance to wonder how Giles managed to find the only corner of Veradis backwoods enough to have power bumps, the lights went out completely.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” she hissed, her expression of deep contempt illuminated by the cool glow of her phone screen. The room reflected her mood, a low and displeased murmur rising from the crowd until the sound of breaking glass turned everyone’s grumbling into screaming.

Maya’s heart jumped into her throat, and she jumped out of her chair reflexively, wide eyes prying into the darkness as she pawed with shaking hands at her phone, trying to turn the flashlight on. For a moment, there was nothing around her but inky blackness, and all she could see were the vague shapes of figures that moved into the glow of her screen, jostling against her as they stampeded through the dark. Then, somewhere nearby a light appeared, dimly illuminating the area just in time for Maya to come face to face with a hulking masked figure lunging toward her.

Maya screamed, ducking backwards; she kicked her chair as she did so, hoping to slow the figure’s advance, but when she turned, another blocked her path, catching her arm with a painful grip. Panic seized her; images of men with guns on the Larme flashed before her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. She held her breath, hands balled into fists, and her Holy Sigil flashed over her eyelids; in an instant, her feet left the ground, and she heard a male voice yell in surprise as they all suddenly hurtled straight up.

Maya gasped, and her eyes flew wide as she fell, managing to right herself just before she hit the ceiling. It wasn’t a good landing; she yelped as her ankle crunched painfully on impact, and again as her chair came hurtling down - up? - on top of her, missing her by mere inches and shattering into splinters beside her.

It took a moment for Maya to get her bearings, stuck on her knees with her ankle crushed beneath her. It was darker than it was on the floor, but she had landed upright - or rather, upside-down - on the vaulted ceiling, its ornate molding forming uneven footing at least three storeys above the chaos of the ballroom. The darkened chandeliers formed a sparse forest of golden trees around her, casting misshapen shadows across the disorienting curves and of her ornate ceiling-floor.

But she wasn’t alone. There wasn’t the collateral damage of the Larme Incident this time, but she’d brought a few hitchhikers with her, the masked men chasing her down. Maya fared a bit better than her assailants: the one that caught her by the arm landed on his head and served to cushion some of her own impact, and with his neck bent at that severe of an angle, he wouldn’t be a threat any longer. The other one landed on his side, a dark mass crumpled atop one of the curves of the ceiling. At first, Maya thought she might be safe, but after a moment, he started to stir.

Behind her, Maya whirled around to a chinking noise, and saw what looked like a grappling hook latch on to a chandelier.

A desperate shriek rang out through the darkness, audible even above the chaos of the ballroom. “Edmuuuund!!”

---

@webboysurf

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

To Jannick’s chagrin, the night was not passing as quickly as he’d hoped. It started off fine, his conversation lively, his partners interesting and interested enough, and a little champagne helping to lubricate things never hurt, but as the night wore on, the clock seemed to grind to a halt. The polite giggling of the ladies gradually went from cute to grating, he was pretty sure the band was playing the same dull, droning string arrangement on a loop, and Jannick was starting to get a little tired of polite insistence that his stories really were so interesting.

All of a sudden, he jumped at the sound of crashing glass, jerking sharply from his lacklustre conversation with one hand on his holster as he searched for the source of the noise. Not that he should have expected much, but it turned out to be nothing; just a waitress who dropped some glassware and pissed off one of the nobles. Jannick took a breath, playing off his reflex to grab his sidearm by adjusting his uniform jacket as he watched Sir Edmund come to the fair lady’s rescue; apparently everything from his past to his outfit was old-fashioned. Jannick himself would have been content to let the janitor - or scullery maid or whatever rich people have - take care of it, but he supposed he couldn’t fault the guy for being nice.

Maybe he was just on edge. A cigarette sounded good; these girls were pretty but boring, and the single flute of champagne that had barely touched him to begin with had certainly worn off by now, as had the couple of smokes he’d had on the way over. Maybe whoever was keeping watch outside would be more interesting to chat with.

After politely excusing himself, Jannick began making his way out, but not before checking in with his charge. Despite wandering off, he wasn’t a total latchkey Templar; he’d been keeping track of Holly somewhere in the back of his mind, and even better, at an event like this he always knew where he’d find her: hovering around the snack bar.

With company, apparently. “Evening, Dame Sss…” Jannick began to greet the accompanying Templar, realizing too late that he forgot her name. Sasha? Sierra? No… Oh! “Sssara. pardon me; strong drinks,” he excused, gesturing at his head and rolling his eyes before turning quickly to his Scion.

“Everything good over here, Your Holiness?” he asked Hollyhock, his decorum betrayed by his casual - or more aptly, antsy - demeanour. “Figured I’d check in, but I’d hate to interrupt.” He cast a token smile to Sara, although the pleading look in his eye and the way he thumbed the cigarettes in his pants pocket made clear his true motive.

---

@OwO @Stern Algorithm

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

---

Mercifully, the Scions and Templars weren’t left in limbo for too long. Dame Irina appeared with their armour crystals, and Jannick was thoroughly unnerved by her uncanny valley deference toward him – mere months ago she was breathing down his neck with all the reverence owed to gum on her shoe, and now she treated him almost like her better. To his relief, however, she couldn’t fool him completely: there was nothing she could do to fully rid her tone and icy stare of their intimidating edge.

Jannick took his crystal quickly and without much interaction, and followed Dame Sonia’s lead when it was time to activate it. His opinion on the Templar costume, as he called it, was mixed; the little boy in him who once idolized knighthood couldn’t deny a little excitement, but this was much more than the parade garb of a Church Knight. This was the garb of a Templar, unmistakably setting him apart from the rest; it put every eye in the Cathedra on him (or so he felt), attention he increasingly wished to avoid.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, mercifully; there wasn’t much for Jannick to do, and thus, not much for him to screw up. Funny how performance anxiety never dawned on him in the middle of a car chase or a shootout, but in the middle of the Cathedra with the eyes of Gaia on him – not to mention the eyes of the Goddess, which he never really felt leave him even after departing the blessing chamber – Jannick was starting to flag.

The end couldn’t come soon enough, and neither could the afterparty; more importantly, the chance to finally sneak off for a smoke. The stress of the afternoon had been creeping up on him like a slow leak, at first unnoticed, and at length quite problematic. The first cigarette – in the car, using Wind magic to direct the smoke out a crack in the window – took the edge off, and the next was a natural consequence, and the third was a result of the agonizingly slow driving of the escort leading the Scions to their destination. Honestly, when he found out who was at the front of this police convoy he’d have to bribe his buddies to hide a fish in their locker.

The party itself was a classy affair, the kind that Jannick had no experience with prior to his assignment to Hollyhock. He was grateful for his Templar uniform (sans armour), which constituted the whole of his formal wardrobe, and cut a sharp figure; that, combined with the title of Templar, usually won him the attention of reasonably attractive female company feigning interest sufficient to pass the evening without the time dragging too slowly.

Tonight’s plan was no different, and going smoothly thus far: he was already one glass of champagne deep and chatting up a pair of young ladies from either Doumerc or Lorenzia connected to diplomats Jannick couldn’t remember the names of, and didn’t care much about anyway. Everyone involved knew where they stood, he politely pretended to know who they were, and they politely pretended to care about his police stories. It was a good system.

“I once saw a girl – in the back of the police car, hands cuffed behind her back – take a cigarette out of her pocket, put it in her mouth and light it,” Jannick recounted, eliciting a chorus of giggles – or maybe that was the one girl’s third glass of wine, but he’d take it either way. “Seriously – you gotta keep your head on a swivel, people can get up to some crazy shit when you least expect it.”

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Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

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The cookie helped his mood, but not nearly as much as the approach of a diminutive new face - the Scion of Light, or (to Jannick, more importantly) the Crown Princess Rosemary Bachmeier Veradis. As both a patriotic Veradian and an uncle to a niece around her age, Jannick was truly taken with the little princess, returning her adorable little curtsy with his best formal bow. Her question, however, threatened to break what little remained of his knightly composure, and he had to clamp his hand over his mouth to conceal the snort of laughter that broke free as he realized he’d just introduced the future Princess of his home country to half of an amateur rap video starter kit.

Fortunately, Jannick was saved the embarrassment of explaining by the timely and merciful intervention of the man of the hour himself, who smoothly diverted the Princess’ attention before wandering off in the direction of some other Scions. Truly, not all heroes wore capes.

Jannick could scarcely criticize Hollyhock’s overly familiar tone with the Princess after his own blunder, so he just called it a draw; she seemed to be in a pleasant mood this evening, actually, so he was content to let her keep that vibe going as long as she didn’t start getting them both into trouble. Besides, he shared her sentiment; even if he had stars in his eyes, Princess Rosemary reminded him too much of his niece for him to fully grasp the weight of her station. She was just too cute.

He didn’t miss the shadow that passed over his charge, however, as the Templar of Gravity came and went; Jannick followed her gaze to the Scion of Gravity, Maya De-something, whom Jannick really only recognized from her presence in those annoying unskippable Youtube ads. She seemed pleasant enough with Scion Kasper and Sir Tyler, in that dead-eyed “you looking for a good time” sort of way, but Hollyhock eyed her like a hare eyeing a hawk, looking liable to jump out a window if she got any closer. That said, Jannick did recall a few derisive remarks for “influencer” types, and Holly’s distaste for the spotlight was renowned. He made a mental note to keep the two separated; he wasn’t super enthusiastic about showing up on Instagram himself, but mostly he did not want to chase Hollyhock through the Cathedra Incepta. If any of his buddies on duty saw him struggling to catch up to a 90 pound girl literally blowing away with the wind, he’d never hear the end of it.

And speaking of social media, the Scion of Earth joined the throng, chatting up the Templar with the cookies. This asshole, Jannick definitely knew: Justinian Gardner, or “RockinRangerJ”, which Jannick hated that he knew, and knew only because enough dumbass teenagers who watched his streams decided they’d try to imitate his stunts without the benefit of Goddess-given powers, leaving the Knights to clean up the aftermath.

The brightness Princess Rosemary had brought to Jannick’s countenance fell when Justinian addressed him as “Sir Jarrick” - nice - although Holly’s little jab did ease his rankling a bit, getting an amused huff out of him. Man, she was really putting in work wearing him down tonight; much more of this and he’d start thinking the Templar gig wasn’t so bad.

But until then, he shrugged at Justinian, acknowledging his congratulations with a curt nod as he finished his cookie, followed by as shallow a bow as he could get away with. “Pleasure’s mine, Holiness,” he replied with barely-passable reverence, “She’s got a good nose, that’s for sure. Good skill to have, really.” He came up with a tame enough response to put the comment to rest; whatever their differences, he wasn’t about to disparage his own Scion.

This Scion, however, was fair game. “But say, uh - if you don’t mind my asking, Your Holiness,” Jannick stumbled over the formalities as he absently patted himself down for cigarettes, “you been keeping busy lately? You used to be big stuff on the internet, my little brother was a big fan. But I feel like I haven’t heard much of you in a while. You pick up a new hobby or something?” He gave up his search when he remembered that the Crown Princess was within secondhand smoke distance, and he wasn’t that good at manipulating the air yet - or dodging angry Rodian Templars.

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@Raijinslayer

Scion: The Prophecy of Anani

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Maya was a little disappointed that Edmund didn’t take her bait, but not surprised; what did surprise her was that he actually tried to crack a joke, although it fell flat when he stumbled over his own unfailing fealty to her. She got a hint of satisfaction from that, as she always did, but if Maya didn’t know better - which, at this point, she wasn’t sure if she did - she’d think Edmund was showing off. Not that wearing his knightly honour like a medal was out of the ordinary for him, but he normally saved those underhanded little jabs for her. It was refreshing enough to see Edmund’s judgemental gaze fixed on different targets that Maya decided to let him off the hook for being so mopey. For now.

At any rate, that was more of a rise than she’d gotten out of him in quite some time, and she’d take what she could get. Besides, she supposed it wouldn’t do to have her Templar casting a shroud over the night’s proceedings - her followers were astute observers, and they always pointed out when something in her photos was off, no matter how heavy the filter. That, and it would probably bum the other Scions out, but Maya cared somewhat less about that. A lot of them seemed like they were in Edmund’s boat anyway, if the glowing orange twink sulking in the corner was any indication.

Edmund wandered off, and with his oppressive presence gone, Kasper approached, bringing the best possible tribute with him - a compliment.

“Kasper, you’re sly with your flattery,” Maya gently teased, stretching up to kiss his cheek in a customary Doumercène greeting he’d be familiar with. She slipped into her genial persona like a well-fitting glove, smiling warmly at Kasper. “But you’re going to upstage all of us. Truly stunning - I’d expect nothing less.” She winked.

She eagerly agreed to the photo, clinging playfully to Kasper’s arm for the shot. By the time the night was done, she expected a photo with every one of the other Scions - with the possible exception of Princess Rosemary, whose growling dog might keep her away - and Kasper was the ideal place to start. He was rapidly becoming one of her favourite contemporaries: agreeable, popular with the masses, but importantly, stayed in his lane. Better still, he didn’t stick around to chat; truly ideal, in Maya’s opinion. Hi, bye, don’t forget a selfie. Incredible. Why couldn’t all the other Scions be like him?

Edmund returned as Kasper departed, having procured a cookie in his absence. Maya eyed the proffered half incredulously. Did someone replace Edmund while she wasn’t looking? She didn’t realize he even knew what sweets were, let alone that he was bold enough to eat one in the innermost sanctum of the Cathedra Incepta. What was it he’d called it? The bosom of the Goddess? Maya nearly laughed as she wondered if Incepta appreciated her Templars getting crumbs in her cleavage.

Damn, if Edmund was like this all the time, maybe she’d like him better. Sweet-sneaking Templar was a much more pleasant vibe than stern Sunday School teacher. Still, the secondhand embarrassment wafting off the Templar who brought the cookies was too strong for Maya, and she declined, albeit more politely than Edmund was used to; he had earned that, at least, if his little peace offering indicated that he was going to chill the fuck out for the evening.

Just then, Sir Tyler approached with familiar greetings for her, and Maya had to quickly rack her brain for exactly how she and the Templar of Time knew each other. They’d definitely met, but was it more than just in passing? There’d been a few blessing ceremonies, a funeral - oh! Right! Duh, Theodore had invited her to his estate early in her Scionhood to discuss the Larme Incident at length, and they’d met a few times since to discuss his plans for peace with Kaudus. Maya had always thought he was a bit of an idealistic idiot on that front, both for seeking peace with a nation of godless savages and for thinking she’d have anything more sophisticated than that to say on the matter, but Tyler had always been pretty pleasant. More notably, he was the one responsible for a lot of unflattering pictures of Theodore on social media, and that was definitely worth entertaining him for.

“Far too long, Tyler,” Maya agreed excitedly. Her mischievous streak, which had so recently been quelled, flared up again when she saw Tyler’s offer of a hug, and she took it, glancing provocatively at Edmund before disengaging.

At the mention of a picture, her smile brightened, but her eyes took on a dangerous glint. “Oh my goodness, we’ll have to fix that! Edmund,” she called sweetly, producing her phone from a fold in her dress and offering it to her Templar. She took Tyler’s arm, looking to Edmund expectantly. “Would you take a picture of us, please?”

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@Olive Fontaine @Scribe of Thoth @webboysurf