Juulet glared at the obscured monstrosity choking her with a hand buried in layers of copper and black wrapping, showing very little of what was inside. From the little bit of breathing she could muster it was determined that it reeked of something that had been spoiled for a long time. A dry and mouldy stench. The Yasoi wanted out so badly. Instead of physically resisting, she glared at the thing as if she could kill with a simple look.
In a second, hellfire would take all near her. This headless would return to nothing just as all who stand before the one true Goddess.
Nothing happened, not even a spark. Mortality made clear in a single flash. She started to fade.
But the monster’s grip faltered as it fell. Tremors below took the stone they had been relying on to cross the chasm, and so too was the anomalous being. And so too was the Mad Avatar. It took about half a second for her to realize what was going on. By then, Juulet had fallen a few meters already, no way to get back up. A terminal scenario for any without any substantial magic. An inevitable end.
Fuck this.
She could not accept that. Not her death, no it wasn’t about her mortality. She could not accept the notion that she was anything but unexceptional.
I am Juulet’oli’mustii’zan!
The paltry amount of energy she had failed to make any noticeable use of finally beared fruit. Her eyes darted all over to find where to direct it. She had precious little time - time, even that betrayed her in her moment of need.
And I won’t die in some hole!
There it was! A small opening along the cliffside. The air vent to this master plan to kill her. Overdrawing to the point of causing a small nosebleed, she had managed to warp at the very edge of her limited range - just barely - into a large, pipe-shaped opening. An entrance to a sewer, once connected to the industrial district and now severed by whatever caused the fissure so long ago.
“Fuck!”
Juulet had fallen on her back, the landing softened by a practiced use of the spatial school. It didn’t make the landing less sore, but she was alive.
“Fuuuuuuck!” she held her head with both hands. “I almost fucking died. In a HOLE!” the close call of falling from one edge brought her to the edge of another: her mind. She had NO control of the situation and she utterly hated it. She hated ALL of this.
“Fucking crutch is gone too, jamboi poca shit fuck FUCK!”
At least she still had a spear and the old faithful arcane school for lighting. The only way through was the lost toilet of the lost city.
Fun …
The bridge crumbled down to nothing. Juulet watched every piece fall, morbidly curious to see if any of those that let her fall would fall in turn. Curious, or maybe concerned?
Amidst the immense pain Yvain felt on his shoulder, he also sensed the familiar vibration running through his sword of a successful impalement. Whatever this imagery of Yuliya was, it had been hit. The bite stagnated, there was no sucking or grinding of the wound. In fact, the jaw eventually relented.
A bloody mouth ascended, with difficulty, to whisper something to Perrenchman’s ear. The reek of metal had never been stronger and the release of pressure on the gash added to the pain he was convinced was real.
“You will always-”
The stench was mixed with what was undoubtedly his friend’s odour. There was a distinct lack of a rasp from the pain she should be feeling and the excessive fluids in her mouth. She had never been clearer.
“fall short.”
The weight of the body felt like ten tons of bricks, forcing the magically disabled nobleman to fall back on his rear. As he did so, he crossed the border of the fog. A plume of the stuff escaped along with him, surrounding him with a mist-like effect that stuck close to the ground as he gathered himself.
He was on a rooftop. Not too high up, maybe three floors of a residential building, and could overlook the district itself. His blade was still in his hand, clean of any blood as was he. Yuliya was gone and along with his wound. All of it had just vanished once he had gone out of the fog. Except for the lingering, dull pain in his shoulder.
The roof overlooked the residential district. It all looked the same, really. More old. More dust. More darkness. Except …
Yuliya, along with Seviin and Xiuyang. There was a ring of flames closing in on the latter and a luminescent entity right up the Vossoriyan’s face. A lightshow impossible to miss, just like the lingering pain on his shoulder.
Xiuyang ran, the other two were not so immediate in their reactions. The resemblance to the blonde human among them was quickly noticed. If it could take on Yuliya’s reflection then surely it knew of their presence. Or was it all a trick of the eye?
The how of it would matter little when, the moment this ghostly apparition’s luminescence had shifted from bright white to dimming into a deep black with the exception of its eyes and forearms shining a vivid crimson. A massive concentration of energy formed between the runner and those that did not react as quickly. In an instant, a tall wall of intense flames separated the group.
Soundless still, the crimson ghost walked closer to the duo. At a certain distance, it zipped through distances at an inhuman rate without a shred of temporal magic to be sniffed out by those versed in it. In just a second, it was right up on Yuliya, raising its hand as if it was about to reach for her face. Its features were on point, a perfect replica of the Vossriyan princess. Right down to even its mannerism.
It radiated heat, but there was no smell, sound or even a disturbance in the air as it existed right before the sanguinaire. There was more than heat to be sensed, all around them they could feel big accumulations of energy akin to what formed the walls of flame.
Xiuyang found herself surrounded by hyper-intense flames. And they were closing in like a lasso. They were high, too. The head they radiated suggested even jumping over would ignite most things from the sheer heat.
Seviin was the odd one out. The manifestation had not given her any grief nor did the thing’s attention deviate from Yuliya.
The Fissured District group has been separated with Juulet falling into the chasm. Kaureerah and Leon, assuming they’ve made it to the other side, can continue along the path. They will be very close to the Fountain District. I’ve avoided writing more following this to give the characters time to discuss what had just happened and decide how they walk the last mile.
Those of the Residential District are confronted by a ghost. Xiuyang is about to get consumed by a massive ring of fire while the ghost itself is aiming for a grab on Yuliya. Seviin is the only one that currently doesn’t seem to have its enmity. The goal is to survive of course, but it could be useful to figure out what these ‘ghosts’ are about. Ghosts don’t exist in Sipenta, right?
Yvain has made it out of the Fog and is overseeing the above. He can choose to intervene, watch, or take another path. With the former being the most likely, he will have to take a little bit of time to get downstairs, but it won’t take him too long (enough time for the three girls to do something about their immediate pickle first).
They spent the next few days like that: in each other's company, making up for lost time, all other cares shunted firmly to the side. They bathed in the hot springs, hiked the mountain passes, shopped in the markets of Pashtali, and picnicked on the summit of Mt. Amathikandu. Of course, they made their appearances back in and around Ersand'Enise. Miret sent her messages to Tyrel, and Zarina to Ysilla and Ayla. Of course, Miret shared her war stories, and Zarina hers: conquests of Yarsoc and Parmoy, battles against a mad behemoth and seditious forces. These were tertiary at best, though. Both were far more concerned with the whipped cream on Zarina's nose or the smell of the ponies or their tenth game of checkers for the night.
It was, by most metrics, the most perfect week that either might've imagined. Were the Gods truly all-loving, they might've decreed that it never should end. Of course, they were not. It took only a day for the news to spread across campus: a secret bounty at the edge of Mycormii and Kerremand, a horrifying monster, Cawuio-Zast, Esmii, and Niallus killed, Sven a shambling wreck and Roslyn little better, Edyta rushed off to Varennes on urgent business. Ingrid was a fearful, listless thing. She was lost and searching, but it did not take Miret long to learn that she was searching for something in particular. It was a sign from the Gods. It was a sign that brought her into contact with Tyrel and Tyrel into contact with Chad and Ashon and Ailet, but they were not so foolish as to appear in the same place.
It was just after dinner - for Miret was loath to ruin good food with heavy words - when the sanguinaire took her beloved aside and delivered the news. "Zazzy, there's a life I need to save," she said simply, "and doing it will both risk my life and change the world."
Tales of a grand demon thwarted by a few travelers and rebellious jailers, and big sea creatures felled by the sun itself were highlights from Zarina's contribution to the dream. Was this what they meant with Vashdal's dream coming into this world on the day of Marhazanet? Perhaps Miret would be her monolith that guided her back to the hardened faith she once had.
The endless fiesta felt impervious to the outside world. In a sense, it was. Unless, of course, one of them welcomed it in. Miret was the one to disturb the nest, blindsiding Zarina completely. By her lover's demeanor alone, the Wildblood's heart began to race. “No.” was her immediate answer, lacking any inflection in tone or strength in her voice. Then, she repeated. “No.” this time she stressed the word like one would do when warning a house pet when it was clearly eyeing a vase it wanted to topple. “You don't have to.”
Miret considered for a moment, face pained, pensive, and... implacable. "It's my sister. I have to." Her brows came together and her fists clenched and unclenched. They sought Zarina's. "But... She hesitated for an extended moment. "It is so much more, as well." She shook her head, glancing at the idyllic scenes of alpine meadow through an arched window.
Zarina's nostrils flared and her gaze was avoidant while her lover's sought it. Her clenched jaw was her safety when it came to emotional outbursts and she was about to have one. But, the immense good she had experienced had done wonders. With a loud exhale of pure exasperation, she too sought Miret's eyes. “Tell me everything, then.”
Miret's face was a mixture of hesitation and resignation, and she took a breath. "Tarlon is both a beautiful and a horrifying place," she declared, starting with a simple truth that Zarina likely already knew. "From a primeval forest - the most hostile place on Sagand - we have carved a great civilization." Her lips pressed together in a tight smile and she nodded. "It is a place of rules and laws and traditions so that we soixé sil pa hax might resist our baser natures." She spoke differently than usual, with the practiced reverence one approached solemn childhood lessons.
"I believe in our purpose as it is told us, and so do my sister and Chad, and our other friends. You are good, Zarina." She shifted on the bed, drawing her legs up beneath her into a slouching kneel. "You see past our minor differences, but most people - human or yasoi or something else - fail. Why, we kill each other even within our own species, for any number of stupid reasons." She studied the other's eyes to make sure that this wasn't too much, that it wasn't too far off-topic. "We yasoi are outnumbered and we need to be strong and united - all of us - or we are at the mercy of people who see us as outsiders, who have shown a willingness to take our land, impose their laws, and treat us like lesser things." She shook her head. "Tarlon is our chance to not let that happen, the Grey Fleet is our chance to bring our Constantian cousins aboard, to have a chance to stand beside humans as respectful equals."
She let out a snort. "Of course, there are those among us who don't see it that way. They see that most of you don't stand as tall, both literally and in the Gift, and consider you as inferior as some humans consider us." She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "There are others who don't believe in us as a people, either. They see the Liberation as a conquest and think of how to enrich themselves." She grimaced. "We call them Huu'teshax because we are, quite frankly, terribly racist and cannot resist ascribing negative qualities that we see in ourselves to other peoples."
Miret rose all at once, pacing beside the bed. "Cascal and Esuul are of this ilk." Her heart pounded inside of her ribcage. How forbidden it felt to voice the thought, but it was out there and it was done. They couldn't see her here: not in Sawand. It was beyond their reach. It was free, truly. "Few know this," she continued, "and, of those who do, even fewer see it. They care nothing for the yasoi, nothing for Tarlon, and nothing for saving those in the Fallen Lands from the tyrants and addictions that ravage them." Miret shook her head. "It is only about their own power and their desire to live eternally as gods incarnate." There was more - much more - but she paused before getting to the meat of it.
Zarina made a point to stifle any emotion she could manifest as Miret displayed her deepest heart. Information and opinions that would be seen as scandalous by many, now all confided to a human of all people. She didn't show it, but the human had never felt closer than she did now. By all accounts, one of the "others" hearing any bit of this was a rarity. All she did was nod and keep her eyes on her partner, hand over her’s and her posture mimicking Miret's with only the sparks of wood from the hearth interjecting from time to time.
Her hand squeezed Miret's. “I believe it.” she said, eyes wide and clear windows to her honest soul. “The previous Gods in the world are dead. Now's the time for them to take everything. I understand.” she scooted closer until her shoulder met the Yasoi's, and she finally rested her head over it. “What are you going to do? I can't stop you. So I'll do the next best thing.”
"There was something that Tyrel and a couple of the other candidate Vyshtas discovered as girls, hidden on Tantas'ilwash." She was in narration mode now. Still, she stroked Zarina's hair. "Vyshta does not live as a true goddess because Esuul has usurped her: Esuul the sanguinaire, who lives eternally on the mortal plane, who recovered her leg with blood magic almost as soon as she became the Avatar."
She shook her head, adding a tiny bit of separation so that she could look her beloved in the eyes. "It's all a farce: girls chosen to act as figureheads and then killed off before they can ascend." Her fists balled. "Mine own sister, who saved me from my darkness, who lets me draw her blood so that I may draw breath, who would lay down her life for me and for her people." Miret's breathing came fast and agitated. "They will murder her. She is ten times the person they are and they will murder her because they've been doing it for a thousand or more years."
Miret's eyes flashed. "I believe in our people. I believe in our mission, but Cascal and Esuul do not. They are using us and allow none to become strong enough to challenge them." The fire tempered itself and she reached for Zarina to embrace her. "Tyrel is our best chance - the best we may ever have - but they are trying to kill her while making it look like the work of others." She swallowed. "She has always protected me. Now, I will protect her and protect this world from those tyrants." She had gone on at length, and checked to ensure that she had not said too much, that she had not turned Zarina away from her. She regarded the other, colour rising in her cheeks. "We're making a plan, you know..."
Zarina blinked, her mind locked on one specific notion: A God walked among them. A God that her own beloved wished to slay. A God at the head of the biggest threat to her home. The gravity of the situation was vertigo inducing. She had to scoot back and find the headboard to rest her back against. She needed a moment to just fathom it all. “Sanguinare Vyshta. Dami's will, Miret ...” her hands shivered a little. Hetraxa, plagued Threshers and Sand Wyrms felt so small and forgettable.
Then came the notion of a plan. It did not bring any real reassurance. A look of grave concern met Miret's gaze. “Why not just run? Hide? We have a nice place here ... They can all come. Your family. Mine too.”
Miret tilted her head. "Running's not like you," she remarked, concern sparkling within her eyes. "What's wrong, luush'elar?"
“I'm afraid of all that's coming. This is terrifying me, Luuchy.” Zarina hugged her own core. “I'll fight for my home but ... Gods? Monsters ... Someone I love's going to get hurt. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to do anything about it.”
Miret wrapped her arms around Zarina and kissed her cheek. "Hiding only postpones the bad and makes it inevitable." She held on for a few seconds. "I don't know either, and I wish we didn't have to fight. I wish there were no wars or diseases or selfish people who destroy and dominate, but there are, and I believe we're not the only ones who see what we need to do." She shook her head. "I know we're not the only ones."
Outside, in the distance, a herd of mountain goats picked their way across a slope. A large bird circled overhead, scanning the ground for its next meal. "You're strong, though - even stronger than me, just by a bit." She smiled and pinched a bit of air with her last statement. "Thing is," the sanguinaire continued, "I don't think we win by being stronger. I think we have to be smarter."
Zarina let herself fall into Miret's embrace. Safety, a sense of it anyway, was what she needed right now. Too many close calls, and it was only going to get more intense from there.
“You talked about a plan.” she remembered. “I'll help, if you will allow me. I'm scared enough to want to hide, but I won't run. Not from what matters.” as she uttered that final words, she turned her head to face Miret. “Also, you're just saying that ...” a faux-pouty face was forced. An attempt at drowning out the tension, just a little.
"Lying is a mortal sin in Tarlon," Miret replied, stone-faced. "They cut your tongue out for it if they catch you." She blinked, twice. "I meant what I said."
Zarina paused and squinted. A very brief staring contest ensued. “... No they don't.”
Miret opened her mouth wide and stuck hers out and the moment of mirth was well-needed, given their heavy subject matter. "So, basically, the plan," she chirped, "Right?" She flashed a smile that belied her own unease. "You ready for me to hit you with this stroke of genius?"
Zarina had anticipated something like this and nearly swiped that tongue once it came out! Luckily, Sanguinaire reflexes were a thing. “You know, they do have laws kind of like that in this country.” she smirked before relenting with a hearty chuckle. “Alright, hit me, Luuchy.”
"You'll have to catch me first!" she chirped, leaping free from the covers. "It's sunnier upstairs." She bounded out of the door with a cheeky smile and disappeared down the hallway. Her footsteps could be heard taking the stairs three at a time.
By the time that Zarina caught up with her, she was snuggled on the large sofa half-buried beneath a mound of pillows and blankets, grinning mischievously. "I have a question, oh dearest of dears," the yasoi asked, shifting a bit to make room. "And I promise I won't be mad, whatever your answer is." She batted her lashes. "Have you ever had to do a double take to tell me apart from my cousin?"
Zarina giggled and sighed in relief as she followed her playful puppy of a girlfriend. She wasn't as hasty and took the stairs two at a time instead with a relatively normal gait. Once she found her Yasoi buried in a grave of fluffy delight, she set her hands on her hips as if she was the responsible adult among the two. “On with it, my precious petal!” the fingersteeplers had taught her well, even the dramatic arm wave was on point.
The question, however, prompted her to furrow her eyebrows. She cocked her head and actually did a double take between the window taking in the last few rays of twilight and her lover. “It's not a trick question, right? The obvious reply is she obviously has one leg.” she shrugged, but then thought of it more. “You ... Do look similar. Very, very similar. I never thought to ask about that, actually.” she took a few steps forward to claim her seat among the pillows, a few inches from her sprawling Miret.
"Yes," the woman in the blankets admitted, the dying sun framing her in fire. "That leg is a dead giveaway." She pursed her lips momentarily. "In fact, it's the main thing that most people remember about their Avatar of Vyshta." She rolled her eyes and waved dismissively, before reaching out to squeeze Zarina from the side. "Hey luuchy," she whispered in the human's ear as she snuggled in "Wanna know something cool?"
Zarina was far too at ease to realize the dupe unfolding right before her eyes. Eyes so easily deceived, as was her ear as she took in that whisper. She sucked in her lips, the playfulness of the moment was very much to her liking. However, the smile she wore flattened. One thing she could rely on still was her nose. “You smell of curry.” she remarked, though it almost sounded like her answer to the Yasoi's question. The grin returned with narrowed, foxy eyes too. She leaned into the girl that had squeezed her, undoubtedly affectionate like a cat craving attention. “You should have told me that big goat tikka meal wasn't enough for you, Luuchy~” she stuck the tip of her tongue out. “You're really good with voices. First a rugged sailor, now my very heart? Did they teach you theatre back in Tarlon?”
Tyrel grinned. "Are you sayin' I'm a fraud?" she prodded, hugging Zarina anyway. "I missed you, luuchy-in-law, so I ate ‘something' special, just for the occasion." She made a teasing kissy face. "You saying you don't like it?"
"Hands off my Luush'elar, you one-legged strumpet!" Miret bounded out from a closet, and Tyrel only squeezed tighter. "Make me." The cousins - they almost may as well have been identical twins - sat to either side of Zarina. "This is part of the plan," Miret advised, kissing her beloved on the shoulder.
Zarina was essentially sandwiched. And by two near-identical people. It did not help that it was the very face she had fallen in love with. The feelings were beyond confusing. The kiss on the shoulder made her almost paranoid as to who had really done it. Fucking Tarlonese.
“To trap me between you two?” she squirmed, just a little, without any real desire to actually break free. This was her idea of a safe and happy life, with perhaps less kinkiness. In the midst of this internal crisis, the nature of this experiment hit her like a bag of bricks. “... You're going to pull a switcheroo.”
They both nodded at the same time. "We're the linchpin of it," said Probably-Miret. "But we're not alone," Probably-Tyrel added. now that she looked carefully, she could make out the subtle differences in their face shapes. Tyrel's was a bit more heart-shaped. Miret had ever so slightly sharper features.
"The idea," the former began - "My idea," interjected the latter, "so don't you get mad at her." - "is to buy myself some space and time, quite literally, so that I can visit the Temporal Chamber in Ersand'Enise, Tantas'Ilwash, the ruins of Sairax'Solcuun, or some other remnant of Toleus and accelerate through five years of my life."
Tyrel's smile faded as she spoke, perhaps realizing the cost. Miret reached around and through Zarina to squeeze her sister's hand reassuringly. "Thing is," the sanguinaire warned, "they're always watching her, unless she's somewhere outside of their reach, like here." Both Dichoras nodded glumly.
"So, we switch!" Tyrel declared, the worry in her tone and expression shining through the confidence she was trying to project. "We go someplace they can't track, not at the same time, of course." Miret continued.
"Teleport around a few times to throw them off." This was Tyrel.
"And then Miret elopes with you while Tyrel dutifully returns to Tarlon and plays ball."
Tyrel nibbled her lower lip, uncomfortable. She shook her head. "That's my least favourite part of it, luuchy." She brushed some hair from her eyes. "I've no right to ask so much and then just abandon you."
There was one question that lingered in Zarina's mind, one that kept mostly static in this sandwich. “The leg.” she reached out to touch the probably-Miret's very leg, almost protectively. “The ploy won't work without it. Or rather, with it. So you have an idea.” her jaw clenched, there was only one way to fool magically potent observers, and that was to not actually employ gimmicks. “I don't know how you pull this off. I'll admit, you'll fool these people with the face, voice and even the smells quite frankly. But ...” she shook her head. “You're not actually going to do that, right?”
The two Dichoras shifted uneasily, glancing at Zarina and each other in turn. "The solution is Ailet," offered Tyrel with an uneasy shrug. "I think there have to better ones. I'm... used to being how I am, but it isn't easy, I think." She regarded the others. "It isn't."
"You manage more than fine, and she's a professional fleshcrafter." Miret shook her head. "She made herself a new leg, and that's after a decade of not having one." Miret shrugged. "I can walk in your shoe for a few months. It won't kill me."
'No, but they will," Tyrel rejoined. She turned to Zarina. "She's determined to do it, and I don't think it's a terrible idea. It's our best shot at winning and gives us two shots at having an avatar ascend, but..." She twisted to regard her cousin. "There is so much risk and you'll have to spend months just learning how to walk well without always using magic."
"Well shit," Miret remarked, drawing into herself a bit. "Now you're giving me cold feet."
"Plural," Tyrel reminded her before turning to Zarina, pained. "Zazz, here we are on the precipice and I don't think I can ask her to do this, and you should have a say too. There has to be something better we can do..."
Zarina swallowed, the very hand that caressed Miret's then went to her own. Just imagining the process of amputation and rebuilding prompted a visceral reaction out of her. For a moment, she felt lightheaded. An odd reactions from a wildblood, but she had yet to have a true maiming baptism. She dreaded it, truthfully. “I-I hate this.” she spoke what was exactly on her mind. “That's a horrible thing. Fuck. Eshit Fuck.” she sank into the pillow, pupils thinned and locked into the sunset.
She swallowed again. “How are you ... Even sure it will work? If that witch has the power already- I don't even really know this Vyshta stuff. It's all so-” she didn't have the words for it. In her moment of increased stress, she sought Miret's hand. Well, who she definitely believed to be Miret. Her eyes then found her lover's. “It'll put you in so much danger, Luuchy. If they find out. If they even get suspicious ...”
It was Tyrel who answered, however. "That's why we have this bolt hole, then." She nodded slowly. "I do hope we can find a better way." Her gaze found Miret's. "I don't think you realize how much I lean on magic to keep up with everyone else."
Miret shifted in the covers, kicking them free, and stared down at her knees and her feet. A shiver ran through her. "You are under no -"
She raised a hand to cut off Tyrel's protest and the latter shifted as well, blankest sloughing away. "I know, suunei." She wiggled her toes and flexed her knees. "No more than a year?" she questioned, and the Avatar of Vyshta nodded slowly. "And you trust that sketchy four-eyes?"
Tyrel swallowed. "With my life, believe it or not." Unable to sit any longer, she stood, crutches hurtling across the room from where they'd been left beside a potted palm. "And in terms of how I take over, well... there are two theories." She began to pace and Miret made to tug Zarina to her feet as well.
Outside, the sun shimmered orange and fuchsia on the plains and snowcapped peaks and the handful of distant shepherd's huts trickled smoke from their chimneys. "You, uh... mind if we walk?" Tyrel prodded weakly. "I think better on my foot."
There was a delay in reaction time for Zarina. Far too much information at a scale she dreaded to think of. Not to mention the initial fear, now made all too real as she paid far too much attention to the amount of legs in the room. She did get up and held Miret's hand, tightly. “One year ...” her latest fixation. She peered Tyrel's way. “Suunei. What does Chad think?” he voice wasn't as shakey. Meek and considerate, as someone who could sympathize with the poor man that wasn't even in the room to discuss this.
"He tells me that he is alright with this," Tyrel replied, "that he can live a year away from me if it means that we have a lifetime together." She shrugged. "He swears that he will be by Miret's side. He will protect her and trust that I will return on time to protect them both."
She took a couple of steps and tilted her head in the direction of the balcony door. She needed to walk. She needed to breathe. Thankfully, the couple was amenable to it, and so they stepped outside and she leapt over the balcony and they followed, all three landing in crouches. Tyrel was out ahead of them, her one-legged strides long and quick, her black leggings shimmering as they picked up the vivid colours of the sun's dying rays.
She twisted about as they began to catch up and her eyes were red-rimmed. "Ypti, I'm sorry," she mewed. "Really, I am." She shook her head. "He's saying it, but I can see in his eyes that he thinks it's the end, that he worries it's goodbye." She would not let them see her face. "I'm not strong enough to stop them." She shook her head again, adamantly. "You're not." She twisted and gestured at Miret with her chin. "Neither are you -" She found Zarina. "-at least, not as you are now."
"Suunei," interjected Miret, and Tyrel slowed for a moment in acknowledgement. "Luuca?"
"Shut up." Miret hurried until she was pacing her cousin. "You're wallowing and you're not a wallower. I make my own choices, you know, and so does Chad."
"Because of me," Tyrel wept. "Because I'm the thing they wanna kill and because you wanna protect me." She swallowed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You shouldn't have to."
"It is for you," admitted Miret, "but also for us, and also for everybody who will keep suffering as long as those tyrants draw breath."
The mountain meadow was peaceful in the dusk: dew laying upon the ground, the air fresh and crisp, jagged grey-brown boulders strewn about as if by Oraff's hand. "You're the best chance we have, and you're a good one, so we're throwing what we have behind you. We're here to lift you, just like you'll lift us, just like you always have."
The Avatar of Vyshta, stripped of all her fancy clothing and titles, was just a scared young woman with too much weight on her shoulders. She stopped abruptly and sat on one of those boulders, staring out at the mountain pass and breathing. She swallowed. She turned to regard the couple and her eyes flashed. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she apologized. "We can do it," she affirmed. "I shall be empress. Sit with me a moment -" She patted the large rock beside her and looked, especially, at Zarina. "- and I'll tell you how."
Zarina kept silent. It was not her moment, but Tyrel's. Instead, she basked in the foreign land she had grown familiar with. The climate was gentle and the sights worthy of a few pages in a pretentious novel. She wasn't ignoring Tyrel, but decided to not look at the woman at her worst. She deserved to keep her dignity. She did, however, look in Miret's direction each time she spoke, fingers interlocked with her's.
When beckoned by the empress to be, she sat just below the offered stone, using instead as backrest as her eyes were taken by the sunset. A perfect view, her Innkeeper had once mentioned, of the descending sun between two major peaks. It was the end of a beautiful day and the end of the comfortable days she got to enjoy with her friends, family and Miret.
“For what it's worth-” a quarter-lidded glance was dedicated to Tyrel. “I think you have a special opportunity with everyone at the school. Gods-among-men are being replaced by the younger and ambitious, and we have this opportunity to take the thrones too. Especially if we're in it together.” she undid the bun from before, letting her hair flow in the mild mountainous breeze. “You've a chance to mould more than Tarlon, but the world. And if Luuchy believes in you-” any chance was a good one to take in her lover's gaze, and so she did. “I do as well. And with greater foresight than just Tarlon, we can make a difference. I think.”
Tyrel paused, her chest rising and falling slowly. She took in the scents and the sights. She heard and felt the breath and warmth of the two people close to her. "Thank you, Zazz." She smiled into the burgeoning twilight, face appreciative. "I needed that." She nodded. "It is our time now." She felt more certain of it after her brief crisis of confidence than ever before. If Zarina, who owed her nothing, was willing to stake her life on this plan, to be part of it, then how could she doubt the sincere words of Miret and Chad? How she could just take off running right into the sky! How immense she felt here, on this mountain in Sawand.
The Avatar of Vyshta smiled. "It all begins," she began, "with a little window - one that opens only once a millennium - during which the Gods are mortal and might be born again." How the thought of it filled her. How it made her heart race! "And that is an opportunity not only for me, but for any who may seize it."
Miret's fingers found Zarina's and intertwined them. "In my heart, always just for you, luush'elar." She began leading Zarina over to a picnic basket she'd hidden, and she took a moment to extricate it from the bushes. "Work, too, though," she sighed. "Always work, even when I'm on leave."
Unceremoniously yet with incongruous grace, she plopped herself down on the grass and patted a spot beside her. "I forgot the blanket," she remarked sheepishly and, for a moment, there seemed to be something small about her - vulnerable, even - as she looked up at Zarina.
“Well, it's an honour to have your scarce break time dedicated to yours truly.” answered Zarina, choosing to not dwell on either subjects. One made her far too many butterflies and the other forced the dregs of anxiety she bottled up back up.
A seat was taken on the dry grass, announcing the end of Dorrad and the hottest days having yet to come. “Luuchi.” a gentle hand remained over the Yasoi's and a mellifluous voice beckoned Miret's attention. “How are Tyrel and Chad? Without you around ...” then, a light squeeze of the hand. “Are you alright?”
Miret leaned in. "No," she whispered. "They're watching me, so smile as if I've just told you a funny secret."
“Pfft.” Zarina immediately blurted out, even letting a few spittles bombard her unfortunate luush'elar. Bent over as if getting over a flabbergasting joke, she passed her hand over her hair to comb it over her ear. “If you want to talk seriously, I know a few places.” she whispered, eyes narrowed to feign some foxy look, suggesting she had teased or something equally as playful. “Or we can just enjoy.”
Miret forced a blush, for such was her control over her face. "We totally should," she squealed. She pulled back, standing and twirling on the spot. "Just me and you and not a care in the world." She breathed a deep breath in and out, extending a hand. "Let's do it!" For a moment, her eyes told more: "Please," they said, "right now. I really need this."
Zarina sighed, just to put up the facade as the one in control. An attempt at reassurance in a time where many felt like their fates were held in the palms of men they never met. After a tap on her knee she hoisted herself up, reaching for Miret's hand half-way there. “Thanks, love.” a quick pelvis thrust with her hands on the small of her back prompted a light crack of her spine. “You and me. And my hippo. I need to feed it, actually.” she shrugged. “Did I tell you how it almost saved a platoon's life?”
Miret arched an eyebrow in curious amusement. "Oh really?" she chirped, "Do tell." With that, she squeezed Zarina's palm and made to follow her wherever she might lead the pair.
“It put the King of the Sea to sleep.” answered Zarina with a whimsical and dramatic voice. “I would likely not be in one piece either if it weren't for that nascent warrior.”
With a quick glance to both sides, she made both herself and her lover zip through space-time to land in her bedroom. “As comfy as it is, this isn't the place.” the Virangish rushed over to the opened cage where a sleeping house hippo was plucked out to instead sleep in a handbag loaded with fresh lettuce. “Biby - check. Now then, hand!” this time she offered it whilst keeping up with the inherited habit.
This time a portal was opened and ... They were on a mountain and behind them a lonesome cottage. “Welcome to my Dorrad villa.”
Miret's eyes widened and she turned on the spot. "W-where are we?" She sucked in a great big breath of the fresh cold air. "I mean... it's gorgeous!" She seemed, at least momentarily, at ease.
“Sawand.” Zarina smiled cheekily, tugging at her partner's hand as they approached the building. “I'm willing to bet even Tarlon doesn't have folks in this little prize I've won.” and soon they were inside the warm, homely establishment.
Miret twirled about as she followed her luush'elar in. "Sawand," she enthused. "Whew-ee." Her eyes darted one way and then the next, taking in the unique architecture, the cozy homeliness, and Zarina and her odd but adorable little pet. "Was this from the Trials, Luuchii?"
“M'hm.” there was a front desk, unmanned and neat. “Ashok is probably getting provisions.” she mumbled to herself, deciding that waiting was pointless and unhooked one of the keys from the board. “The rooms are great, we get out own fireplace if it gets chilly.” again she held her luush'elar's hand, guiding her to room 3 of the cottage inn.
It was as homely as could be with a double bed, a kitchenette in an adjcent room, proper latrines and an expensive begemot rug. And, of course, the promised fireplace surrounded by stone. Zarina placed her bag on the rocking chair and sat on the bed. “If you need a place to crash, this room is always kept vacant.”
Miret curled up beside her. "It's lovely," she remarked softly, eyes roving about as she snuggled in. There seemed to be something of a wistful air to her. "A place of our - your - own." She smiled at Zarina. "I'm sorry for being gone so suddenly and so long," she sighed. "You deserve better." Her eyes darted about the wonderful room again.
No words came from Zarina, only a blush. And then a tight squeeze of her arm around Miret, tugging her close. “You came back, that's all that matters.” she laid a peck on her luush'elar's forehead. “What's been troubling you, Luuchii?”
"Heh," Miret snorted. "I almost died." She shrugged and shook her head ruefully, cracking a sad little smile. "After all you've seen and been through and all that I have, that doesn't sound like such a big deal, does it?"
She sighed. "I was doomed, to tell you the truth, and so was Chad and so were all of us if Tyrel hadn't arrived." She bit her lower lip. "It got me thinking that, aside from you, what do I have to show for my life? What have I done with it?" She shook her head again, tightly, this time. "I'm tired of war. I wanna take my family, my friends, and you, and... get out." She paused and shrugged, shooting a hopeful glance up at Zarina.
Instead of giving her opinion or pushing back against the negative thoughts plaguing Miret, Zarina merely caressed the distressed woman's head, focusing on the minute little locks of hair to neatly straighten back behind the pointed ear. “Mmm.” was her response to Miret's wants. “But we can't simply abandon our homes, now can we?” her head tilted as she peered down at the curled up Yasoi.
“I'm being called home. Likely because of what's happening in that Coffee Island - Palapar.” lips pursed and hands clenched harder. “It's coming soon. The war. And all I'm worried about, honestly, is the same as you. What have I done of real note in my life? Not because I think I'm going to die ...” although the fear lingered, even as she put on her brave face. “I owe it to my family to fight for them and become something. The same way you owe a lot to your family - Tyrel and Chad.”
Miret managed a quick, nervous smile. "You always know just what to say," she admitted, forcing a deeper breath and then a second. She smiled again, a bit more relaxed this time, but it faded quickly. "Tyrel is being called there too," she offered, "but it's a trap." She shook her head. "She disobeyed orders in Yarsoc and..." Miret trailed off for a moment. "She tore that queen - the one who'd toyed with Chad and I - apart like a plaything."
The Tarlonese shrugged. "She saved us all and won the battle and afterwards -" She rolled her eyes. "- it was retroactively sanctioned." She sat up and crossed her legs, running some fingers thoughtfully through the hair that Zarina had untangled. "You should've heard them: all the soldiers chanting her name." She scowled. "The emperor and the empress and high command will not like it. it is the job of the Avatar of Vyshta to die before her twenty-fifth birthday, and that is only a few years away now." She knit and unknit her fingers nervously. "I don't know what they'll do to my sister there," she mewed, "but it'll be bad - another bad thing in a stupid conflict all about people's pride and money - and I have to find a way to stop it."
Zarina absently stroked Miret's hair and cheek as her worries and recounts were being aired out. Once again, there was only listening with the occasional little affirmative sound to show she was paying attention. A light inhale, stronger than her idle breathing, came in reaction to the revelation of Tyrel's presence in Palapar. A crucial piece of information, should Zarina actually go there.
“You're hurting enough, Luuchy. It shouldn't always be you taking action. It shouldn't be you always getting hurt.” delicate brushes of her thumb over Miret's cheek slowly guided the Yasoi's gaze to Zarina's. “But if you must take on the world itself like a raging bull, then I'll do it with you. At worst, we both die horribly together.” she grinned and chuckled halfheartedly. “But, promise me one thing.” she stared right into Miret's eyes, digging to find her very soul. “No matter what happens with this war, you won't hate me, and I won't hate you.”
Miret was a strong woman, or had always appeared so to the world at large. She had won the Trials of Ersand'Enise. She had ended the tyrannical reign of Queen Talit in Tanso and served with distinction in Yarsoc, all before her twentieth birthday. She had shared herself with many men and some women. She had spoken before crowds of thousands and embraced the empress herself.
To be small, to be vulnerable, was not something that she ever got to do anymore, except with a very precious few she had known since childhood... and Zarina. "Speak for yourself," she snorted weakly. "When I go, it'll be either out of boredom when I'm a thousand year old elder sanguinaire, or in a blaze of glory." She smiled softly, ironically. "You're welcome to join me in either one."
The fact that their countries were enemies was not lost on her either. "I could never hate you," Miret replied softly. "I even love your laundry habits... or how you hog all the covers in bed."
A fire crackled in the hearth, picturesque mountains and blue sky filled the windows, and they were both away from conflict and politics and the worry of what others might think, at least for the time being. Miret leaned in and kissed Zarina. "Most of all, though, I love this."
“I do not!” Zarina protested without any real conviction to be found in her voice. “I just move a lot when sleeping all comfy-like. Doesn't happen often.” with that, she tugged her lover closer as to actually lie down on the guest bed for some much needed cuddles. And then a kiss.
They were to stay like this for a while. Minutes? Hours? They didn't count. This was just too nice. “What's the plan, then? If things do get worse and worse? When do we just ... Stop? Do we even?”
Miret shrugged. "I expect shit'll hit the fan, and a lot of it, and soon." She shrugged weakly. "I expect I'll fight back and I hope you'll join me." She took a deep breath and managed a brave smile. "I already know others who will." She shook her head. "Not gonna let a little cabal of beard-stroking old men tell me what to do my entire life. For now, though," the yasoi concluded, "let's just spend some time. Let's just... love each other."
Zarina flinched. “Why would shit hit a fan?” of all the things Miret had said, this just stuck. “Is that one of your Tarlonese sayings?” a cheeky grin came with the remark. But soon she settled back into a tone-appropriate demeanor. “Of course.” was her answer with conviction, even if she was ignorant to most machinations from the upper echelons of society.
Hours passed. It had been dark out in Sawand for a while now. Zarina had fallen asleep with an ease she hadn't experienced in a long time. The Yasoi she clung to may have had a role to play in that. Very peaceful. It'd be the footsteps outside of the room that woke her up. “Mmmm ...”
It was on the eighteenth day of Miret'thilan'dichora's absence that Zarina made it up to the attic and opened the back window to let some air in. The room had formerly been occupied by Jamboi and, all-too-often, Penny. With the pair having gone on extended leave under circumstances that most whispered had to do with the bulge in the latter's belly, the room had sat more or less empty, though it was still Ashon's space and felt like it.
Perhaps Zarina had needed to take her mind off of the happenings in Mezegol or the summons of her mother or Marceline's ongoing retreat from the world. Maybe she was just cleaning because it needed to be done. the space was getting rather musty. In any event, she pushed open the window and there was a loud 'thump' that made her jump slightly, though she likely never would've admitted such except in the company of her closest friends.
There, handing from a tree and swinging gently back and forth was a gift wrapped with a neat little bow and a somewhat crude but very fetching little smiley face pinned to a clipboard. She recognized the penmanship - or lack thereof - immediately.
Upon seeing what had made flinch, she re-thought the notion of sharing this to even her best of friends. There are enough embarrassments to poke fun out of her anyway. That said, as silly as the situation was, the hanging gift with a message dangling by it. Her first instinct was not to seize it and instead look around her, the outside. Up, down, left, right, even under her feet. She was sure this wasn't there twenty minutes ago when walked home.
At the absence of any presence, Zarina's amber eyes took in the familiar quirks of the message dedicated to her. A simple smile, one that communicated the author without a single word. Another peek of precaution out the window, one dedicated to the tree more than anything - tree people, a hassle - before giving up and taking in the spoils of her discovery.
With the smiley-message put to the side after a quick check, the avaricious part-dragon couldn't help herself. She pulled the ribbon and started to neatly undo the wrapping ... Until five seconds in and she got impatient. To shreds.
Inside was a strand of Osaian ribbonwood, imbued with manas in the manner of Tarlonese woodweaving. It was thin and flexible and slightly translucent. Attached to it was a small note that twirled in the breeze as Zarina held it.
"Dear Luuchii,
I miss you more than words can tell: your cute face and your hidden sweetness and your big ideas, so I begged my aunt to make you this so that we could be together. It's more than just figurative, too! The ribbonwood is a sanguinaire of a plant and it siphons manas. I let it bite me and take some of mine (maybe a fair comeuppance for a bloodsucker - now I know how it feels). They're in there and they can help whatever you use this for. I love you forever and always and I hope it helps you until we can be together again and for long after that.
Love,
Miret.
P.S. Have you done your laundry lately?"
“Nope.”
Zarina answered in yet another show of infantile habits. All with a massive smile that stressed her features, leaving her cheeks reddened from the extertion. The note was clutched close to her chest, her breathing exceptionally tranquil, as she leered at the peculiar plant. A sanguinaire plant, how macabre. And the visceral nature of it piqued curiosity. With some hesitation, she produced a gardening glove from one of the attic boxes she had stored and reached her hand out to the thing. “Now I need to figure out how to not have you eaten by my little feathered and fur babies, Miret.” she chuckled.
The plank was... a plank, having ceased sucking blood around the time it had been felled and carved. There was, fortunately, no danger, though its manas did seem to respond do hers immediately, trying to assimilate her colony, failing, and then settling for communing into it.
It was not too much longer, however, before Zarina found herself in the cellar, rooting around through baskets of unwashed laundry that she'd usually have used magic on or paid a washerwoman to clean. In the very back corner, after lifting one up, she noticed that something about it was 'off'. There was something solid in the middle, thumping around.
After a bit of digging and eventually meeting an anomalous addition in the dirty laundry bin - she did not revel in it whatsoever - Zarina plucked the next step to the treasure hunt. At first she was concerned with touching any of these, and still used her gardening glove. But then she realize this was Miret. Why so much paranoia? Rid of any unnecessary precautions, she extracted the next 'gift'.
There was a head of Eluuxo inside, only, it had a piece of paper with a little angry face pinned to it. "This is to remind you of what we will do when I'm back," the back of the note said. "Look your best for me, hmm?"
It was once again signed 'Miret', only in yasoi script this time.
"P.S. Have you studied for your Tinctures & First Aid exam?"
Zarina could only muster a dull stare at the cabbage. She dreaded the idea of somebody else accidentally stumbling upon it. The vegetable used for aphrodisiacs was quickly hidden away before she heeded the next 'clue.'
“Hah. Never a boring moment with you.”
Next stop was the the study where most of her course work and assignments were kept, including the practice tinctures. She opened one of the cubards under a shelf to find the box full of needles, threads, dried reagents and a few old instruction manuals.
There, she found another note and a smiley face with glasses and buckteeth. "Go to the library and take out that book we talked about, lazy bum. I love you."
Zarina rolled her eyes and capitulated to the mocking smiley's demands. The library was, well, a few feet away. The challenge was to recall what book was mentioned-
“Ah, right.”
The Greedy Dragon's Hoard, a young adult's novel about a dragon with immense wealth, a harem and the most beautiful of beasts. Eventually, one of his concubines burned down his den, and the melted gold melded into his scales, turning him gold and truly immortal. The book is mostly a variety of fables, ending with the dragon being far too heavy to leave his den. As to why they talked about it- Zarina was teasingly compared to the main character for reasons.
Zarina dug for the book and couldn't find it. Miret had returned it a few weeks ago, before leaving. Instead, where the book had been, was another note: "The Grand Library, dork. ♥"
Zarina let out a frustrated sigh. An exaggerated response given she was always smiling.
To the Grand Library! Where she sought the same book.
It was not so very long after that Zarina found herself at the Grand Library. It smelled of books and dust that sparkled in the Dorrad sunlight. Voices echoed up through the foyer and there seemed - always - to be a slight stench of pigeons at the uppermost levels, where they congregated about the great glass dome.
It was on one of these levels that she located her book, but she found more than that. There was a little bottle of plushtail oil behind it, with a little note attached carrying a worried face.
"Dear Zarina,
Please remember to drink this when it's that time of the month. I love you no matter what, but you're better when you're not trying to eat me... well, you know what I mean.
Love,
Miret.
P.S. Have you cleaned the old dragon stables lately?"
Zarina took advantage of the tranquil nature of the library to give herself a brief break. Plushtail in hand, she contemplated whether to still take this game with joy or vexed that her lover hadn't just come and said hello. The thoughtful nature of the gifts and quips made her lean toward the former still.
After a quarter-hour of putting around, she headed to the animal farm - although not before killing two birds with one stone and acquiring meats from the local butcher. Dried, harder meats that were cheaper and quite lean. A bit too lean to be enjoyed by gourmands, anyway. The sack over her shoulder contrasted with her green silks, earning herself a few stares by gossiping lordlings and snarky commoners alike. She'd be lying if she said it didn't affect her a little, but she was keen on feeding her beasts herself.
Her allotted stables held three dragons: Alqasas, Thawra and now Sassy Xiao. The eldest, Alqasas napped and had grown wise to rushing in for food, knowing it was going to come eventually. Thawra was more like an eager dog - always wanting attention, and being hand fed. Being the smaller of the two Froabas, she developed quite the needy tendencies.
Then there was Sassy Xiao, raised wild but still a chick when taken in. She reportedly made daily messes in the brief time it had been housed.
“Oi, sit.” the rambunctious critter nearly lunged at its master out of a show of affection, but the size made the distinction between playing and predation very muddied. “No. NO!” Zarina took a quick step to the side and pointed her finger over the Emperor Kite's snout, nearly poking between her eyes. “Relax, and open wide, princess.”
In time, the three dragons were fed. While Zarina did so regularly, and went about all of her usual cleaning tasks as one might expect of a responsible dragon owner, she only went over the unused stalls once a month... on a good month. The last time had been shortly before Miret had been sent off to war.
Unsurprisingly, she found a smiling face gently carved into the cleaning bucket. Inside was a note left by her lover and a small bottle.
"This is Luudus Leaf shampoo. The Luudus plant grows in colonies along the southern edge of Nanoi, where it is rainiest, on coasts and islands of swampy inland lakes. It is a writhing vine and is known to eat people when it can. Harvesting it is an immense act of bravery and personal risk - no, I didn't get this one myself. I bought this from a vendor - and seen as a symbol of the importance of personal fitness and beauty. It is also the best shampoo that money - or a few fingers - can buy and will continue to clean your hair for two weeks after applied.
This is a reminder to always work as hard as I know you do, luuchii, but to look after yourself as well. While I'm right beside your snoring self as I write this, I imagine it'll be about a month until you find it and I hope you won't be too mad at me for being away for so long. I only ever cared about Tyrel and (kinda) Chad before I met you. You helped me care about myself and my future, about causes greater than me, about people who weren't yasoi, and - most importantly - about you. Do me a favour, would you? Space these out two days when you do the rest. If everything goes to plan, you'll have the best surprise of all waiting at the end of the last one."
Love you always,
Miret
P.S. Have you checked that Stella has been replacing the grinder filter regularly at your Proving Grounds location?"
The first paragraph was taken in like all the other letters, sat comfortably inside of Xiao's pen with the needy dragon's head rested over both Zarina's legs. Idle strokes kept the beast soothed and in partial slumber while the other held the longer note. It was the second paragraph that warranted a few pause. Embarrassment, loneliness, regret, want, fear. So many emotions flooded in at once. Her forehead met the base of her thumb, eyes closed in an effort to contain her feelings. She ended up letting only a sniffle escape.
“I miss you so much.”
Zarina whispered, prompting the semi-conscious Xiao to perk up for a second before falling back into comfort. “Other side of town, huh? Little shit.” the moment ended with a smile.
Respecting the request, the young beastmaster took the opportunity to do some errands - yet another task she usually delegated to hired work - by making the rounds through the shops and finally stopping at the Proving Grounds where her next message had be found. The last for the day.
The next day, after class, it was the Biology classroom with the fake skeleton - or at least she thought it was fake - where she'd find the next smiley-clue inside the skull.
Then it was the very first kiosk she had opened for Zenobucks. Inside the bin full of discarded coffee bags they returned to the merchants every two months for a light discount on extra shipping fees. The smile had a particularly smug look to it.
Initially she wanted to call it early if the clue hadn't led her back to her house. This one was easy to find: Riesco's mane had been neatly braided without Zarina's knowledge, and inside one of the braids was the next clue. There was no smile, instead the horse turned to perform his signature tongue-wag mockery. It never failed to make his rider burst into laughter.
Early in day two, the Virangish treasure seeker found herself at the Arboretum, by the tree where she and Miret had first met. Where she sought the shade after a botched three-legged race. “Where it all began. Corny. I love you so much.” she spoke to herself as she got to the tree and just took the chance to sit and watch the dawn kiss the city of magic.
While some of the surprises had been prepared and left waiting before Miret's departure, others had been slipped into place by a series of accomplices: a Seviin here, a Tku there, a Tommy at some point.
There didn't seem to be much here except a pretty view to make Zarina wax sentimental. That was when she detected a rustle in some nearby bushes. A quick energy sweep revealed no interloper - only the telltale signs of someone masking their energy signature.
“Oi.”
In the blink of an eye, Zarina stood just a foot away from the bush, arms crossed and eyes glaring down at it. Her position was such that the morning sun cast quite the shadow over the bush and whatever was hiding inside. “Where I'm from, we castrate peeping Toms.” she smirked.
There was nobody there, oddly. Zarina looked around in tandem with an energy sweep and saw a note nailed to the tree that she could've sworn hadn't been there before. When she approached it, it read:
"Look up."
She mouthed it as she read and... there was more than her own voice. Gazing down at her from the branches, hair dangling like curtains to either side of her face, was Miret with a soft smile and cheeks flushed with colour.
“Nice try.”
Zarina cackled and fought against the urge valiantly ... Before obliging with a swift and twitchy movement of her head. “Oi!” she called out as she spotted Miret. “Do you have a loicence for that tree there?” she asked with a mediocre Enthish accent. Hands on her hips, she expected the object of her affections to come to her after trekking for two days.
Miret dropped right down on top of her. "Here comes!" she squealed, hoping to be caught.
Zarina scooped her up in a bridal carry and the yasoi laughed, leaning in for a kiss. "Sostrong," she cooed, "My hero!"
A total fluke, Miret's voice made Zarina's knees weak and the shows affection reduced her tense muscles into mush, and yet she caught the trickster. “Hah. I may or may not dabble in some shellfish lifting.”
She batted her eyelashes as they parted and she was let back onto her feet. "Like my little scavenger hunt?"
Holding Miret in such a manner, however, quickly got embarrassing. Far too manly of a role! And she feared her increasingly permanent bitchface was going to make her into one of these easily identified sapphic phenotype the girls would incessantly gossip over. Gently she let her lover back down with careful consideration. “Uh, yeah, a date's never boring with you, is it? I'm just going to say it, I can't one up you.” she raised her hands in surrender.
But she didn't keep the distance for long. A quick step forward and she was brushing up to her sorely missed partner. “What brings you here, Luuchi? All this way, just for me? I'm flattered, but really?”
Dear Honourable Prospect, Has your life taken a turn? Do you seek thrills you have long since desensitized yourself to? Or perhaps you wish to start anew? Whatever your creed may be, one of Sipenta's mythical and lost marvels beckons the ambitious, curious and desperate alike. Deep in the frigid tundras lies the oldest gem of this world. An expedition like none other in history to unearth a legend that can make dreams into tangible reality. A chance for a legacy. A chance for a new beginning. A new era. The Abyssal Forge awaits you.
Whether it was morbid curiosity, a search for answers or a last chance to find meaning, you signed your soul to the once in a millenia opportunity to be the first to discover the Abyssal Forge. Its secrets beckon so sweetly, the potential infinite. The way you obtained your invitation could be interpreted as fate, a pure chance encounter, but at the back of any reasonable person’s mind, you wonder if this wasn’t all predetermined.
All invitation holders were brought to an innocuous meeting point, different for each. One was in the centre of Varrahasta inside a famous inn, another in a shed in the middle of nowhere Meatu. The response to their signed letter was a simple map with no other instructions. Most would be suspicious, but why even sign the letter if one wouldn’t even entertain the opportunity? There were no signs of danger after rigorous scouting, after all.
But the forces behind the plot had no intention of being discovered. Once in the respective rendez-vous points were found, the sensation of ants on every part of the body overtook even the strongest among you. Resistance was futile, magic had been stifled far too quickly compared to the anti-magic devices encountered in the past. Before long, the ceaseless, horrible sensation reached the head, numbing the mind as it did the body. You would awaken some time later somewhere unfamiliar, reeking of old and dust.
You could hear the sound of static near you. It repeated in regular intervals. The sensation of ants was still there but duller. You could move, but your magic was near impossible to tug out without causing your extremities to ache and your body to falter. As you come to more and more, your vision becomes less blurry and the source of the electrical noise becomes apparent: A wooden box with gold-coloured metal meshes of a circular shape. A contraption like you’ve never seen before, barring perhaps a few similarities to Sirrahi-tech, but far more rustic. In short, it was a radio.
“Bzzzt. I- Bzzzt. See you are awake. Good.”
The box produced a masculine voice. It sounded mundane, unfamiliar to you, though the grainy filter and static veiled the finer details and intonation. Upon focusing on the box, you notice a set of egg-sized metal capsule containers surrounding it. Three for a couple of groups, and two for another. As you keenly gain in awareness, you easily realize there is one for each person with you. Along with them was an equal amount of oil lanterns.
“Before we begin, open these eggs and swallow the pill inside. Lest you wish to perish slowly as did countless others.”
Whether you were already outdoors or you found a window to the outside, you would at some point see where you truly are. You had likely heard of Halge Larchelon before coming, the city known to have housed the first ever great forge in history. Now a large and dead ruin in the shape of a crater. That isn’t to say what created the crater was the cause of the lifelessness, but rather this city was once built inside of it with a large tower, one compared to the Forked Tower, looming over all.
You could not see the sun, nor even the sky that you knew for that matter. A thick fog contained the borders and spread about in the city while the heavens were perpetually swallowed by a blueish cloud with only a dim light source East of the tower that never seemed to move. There was the occasional lightning and thunder clap from these unusual clouds.
It was cold. Not freezing, just cold. The wind felt unnatural, almost stagnant as if it had been the same gust circulating for a long time.
A city ruled by a dark, featureless blue, dull grey and unimpressive brown. No life to be found, no home to preserve, and thus nothing to love, hate or feel passion over. And with the absence of all life, death too became stagnant. Memories now mere dust with nothing being built for thousands of years. Nothing.
A city that even the Gods had forgotten.
You have all been placed in different parts of the city, forming three initial groups. These will not remain for the entirety of the adventure, but they’re a start to avoid a huge cluster of people in one place.
You will get descriptions of each place you are in within your distinctive threads.
Interacting with the radio: You may ask the radio questions and interact with it. If you address the radio, all other participants will be able to hear your question and the answer. There will be a specific thread dedicated to interacting with the radio, while other threads will be hidden. Other means to communicate will be discovered as the story progresses.
Silence. Not even a gust of wind. Everything had died in what was once called Viiqii. All that remained was a crater of salted land and rapidly decaying matter. Matter that was once the men and women of this village, now gone without a trace. Cawiuo Zast, Selena Creighton and Qelen the elder were among them too. But what had claimed the very last morsel of this land’s soul was not the horror that had made it its nest. An amalgamation of the worst things in the Hells had baptized it with his arrival. Now, it is permanently scarred.
Arcaan’toras’aamii had witnessed it all and managed to keep his head. He would never know whether Belthagor allowed it or if he was insignificant enough to not even be noticed. The once promising land he had hoped to leverage for his clan’s long term prosperity became ground zero for the most repulsive and monstrous thing he had ever seen. His eyes were hollow and his gait reduced to a limp despite being physically fine.
He found his tent an hour later, partially destroyed. Inside was Yamo’nabal’fiin, kneeling before a body wrapped in blankets. His eyes were red from tears he could not hold back anymore as they met Arcaan’s. The Aamii did not have to see what was in the wrappings to know, but he still endeavoured to see. Suulii was in it, many veins bulging all over her body with her severed leg infested with now decaying plant life. Her eyes were closed, her chest did not move with a stab wound in its centre and she looked cold.
In a land where all distinguishing factors were devoured and brought to death, where it was neither hot nor cold, where nothing lived or died, the world had never felt colder for these two men.
Esmii’nesta’tawar had vanished without a trace while Niallus Saberhagen fought off the Smiler until the bitter end to save his friend. Both were considered dead, leaving many friends and family to grieve without bodies to bury or cremate.
Few, if any, would know what truly happened in Viiqii. History would sooner forget it over the grander war that was to come and the inevitable calamities the Grand Demon Belthagor was preparing for Sipenta. But those that survived, the precious few with still their bodies and minds, will remember this day. Where the beginning of the end was birthed.
It came from the Bog.
Until last year, the world’s balance was held and controlled by a select few people. Some held more weight than others, but their roles in world events were undeniably above any other formal ruler of the world. Some called them the Gods of the mortal plain, others thought of them as none other than mere tyrants playing the role of a God. But now the biggest players were off the board.
Hugo Hunghorasz - Slain by everyone that mattered.
The Emperor of Nikan - Slain by his own brother.
The Silent Monk - Slain by his own hand.
Optimate Pious XIII & Optimate Justine III - Alive and poised for replacement if the need arises.
President Sanfor - Allegedly still presiding in Missai.
Half were gone, the other half nubiles compared to the ‘big three’. She bit her thumb’s nail as recalled some of these events unfolding. Exhilarating. There were now the ‘New Powers’, some already near their peaks, others budding at an alarming rate.
Emperor Cascal’umi’anthan - Emperor of Tarlon and Supreme commander of the Grey Fleet.
Empress Esuul of Tantiac - New head of the Sanguine council, allying it with Tarlon.
Karim Harrachora - Hugo’s replacement in all but raw skill and power.
The Twin Emperors - Heads of the new Sanguine Council.
Volto Dorado - The head of the Volti, now making their move.
The Mad Avatar - High Priestess of Viisan.
Juulet smirked in satisfaction as she carefully noted that particular one down. The best was saved for last, though in spite of her megalomania, she knew something was missing in this picture. It quickly broke that infantile smile of her’s.
The Traveler - The true wildcard.
She tapped her pen against her chin. Surely there was someone else of that calibre. Surely there was another extraordinary being to consider.
Of course, there was one that had been there all along. As she was about to jot it down above even the fallen ‘Gods’, the sound of a door opened prompted the one-legged Yasoi to perk up. None of the guests whom she could hear the footsteps could actually see her, instead they saw a dark chair turned opposite to them. It was one of those spinning chairs she was incredibly fond of.
The rugged man content with merely a tunic and other inconspicuous clothing spoke up. “Are you about to make a dramatic turn-”
Juulet spun her chair to dramatically reveal herself to the group of guests.
“Greetings! I’ve had shrimp prepared for this early supper.” the Yasoi opened her arms to display the long dining table before her. There was a silver bell over each plate where the guests were invited to take seats. “I was real hungry, so I figured this big meet would go well with the yums.”
Viktor, briefly known as Felix, shrugged as if this was routine and took a seat to Juulet’s right. To her left sat a Yasoi of about her age. Facial features suggested more masculine traits, but the build and long brown hair leaned feminine. They grimaced the moment Juulet opened her mouth and sighed in exasperation when offered a seat. They were also the first to remove the bell, revealing large, roasted prawns with a healthy amount of spicy sauce on them.
“Where’s Merit?” inquired the androgynous individual, the voice revealing without a doubt that he was, in fact, male. His voice was dry and demanding, but he didn’t raise it nor come off as downright aggressive.
“Busy.” replied Juulet. With a bell removed, she had given herself permission to indulge after setting her notepad to the side. “She’s met with our special guests already. We’re here to discuss business with ‘em.” she munched away with little regard for manners. She was a goddess, such petty worries were beneath her.
“That way you can burn away all our credibility again after all the work she’s done? You never cease to amaze me, babe.”
“Shuuuut the fuck uuuupppp Calion.” whined Juulet, surprisingly composed for how she was being talked to. It looked more like siblings bickering than animosity, at least from her. Calion, on the other hand, had a hint of venomous animosity in his eyes.
Viktor completely zoned them out and indulged in his meal as would any man used to the outdoors - mostly using his hands to peel the shrimp.
There was another participant that had entered last. A man adorned in fine Rettanese silks with the attire itself reserved only for the highest class within the capital - The Exemplars. Clad in a mixture of gold, green and brown, this round-faced, clean shaven man looking to be in his forties employed proper etiquette from his region, from using gloves for his hands when needing to touch the foods to expert use of chopsticks.
“Anyway,” Juulet took a bite from her grub without even bothering to decorticate. “I wanted to lube us up before the big welcome. Namely with discussing dear Viktor’s report. And also I’ve had the best fookin’ idea ever.” the accent slipped there, just a little bit.
All three raised a collective brow to that.
Juulet cleared her throat.
“Viktor, I see here our guy Don Balls kind of had it coming. That kind of leaves us in a pickle, don’it?” she cocked her head like an overly naggy teacher reprimanding a young student.
Viktor shrugged one shoulder, his interest clearly geared more toward the tricky shell of the prawn he had in his hands. “He was dead before I had arrived.”
“Yeaaaaaah, but you fucked up with controlling that thing. It slipped and screwed around and now here we are.” her wide and crazy eyes peered deep into Viktor’s hollow soul.
“It did.” he answered, staring her down without a change in his demeanour.
A silence reigned briefly, only for it to be broken by Calion.
“Wasn’t that what we wanted?”
“... Yeah, but the results aren’t to me liking. I gotta blame someone.”
Calion rolled his eyes. “If it’s such a big issue, find someone else to hold your hand in that adventure down south.” Juulet glared his way, he returned the favour. “That isn’t me.”
Juulet huffed and crossed her arms. “I’ve had another job for you anyway.”
“You’re not my boss.”
“Kind of am. Anywho- Now we’ve got all this nice info on our green pet project, but a new actual issue arises.” there was a shift in tone in the mad avatar’s voice. All eyes were on her now, including the mysterious Rettanese man who seemed frankly out of place. “The Big B is out early. We’re going to adapt.”
A new voice spoke. “If the Arrogant One’s presence is a true concern, then we would have been mobilized to silence him.” the regally dressed man spoke with perfect Avincian. “If no such thing has been ordained, then the matter must be settled. I believe Mister Strauss has performed his duty and retrieved the essential information we had been seeking.”
Juulet kept quiet and had nothing witty to add. “Hmmm. Sure.” she reached out to pat the Magusjaeger’s forearm. “You did good. For a guy that’s died like four times.” she snorted and Viktor chuckled.
“Let’s get the other part done hastily, please.” complained Calion.
Juulet clapped her hands. “Oh right! Thanks Cally!”
Calion groaned and rolled his eyes. He detested that name, and her.
“So, I met this painter guy, right? Total pushover artsy type. He had this cutest rock-person! And it could shoot a big laser too!” her gestures were trying to capture both the smallness of the construct and the flashiness of the blast. “And so I thought, how could I get one of those?”
“Golems. Ersand’Enise has recently integrated them.” spoke the Rettanese nobleman. “An art specific to the Dark Mages of West Callanast.”
Juulet pointed the man’s way. “Yeah, that! I saw how BIG and AWESOME they were during that big kerfuffle of revolution, soooo …” a big grin with nearly lidded eyes was directed Calion’s way.
“... What?”
“Sooooo I thought maybe we’d get a few of our own. And what better place than the source. That art Yanii mentioned a place called An Zini or something.”
“An Zenui.” corrected Calion.
“Sure. I figured you’d be the best suited to filter out the best of the best and retrieve it for us~” she leaned toward Calion’s, almost rubbing up to him like a cat. “C’mon, say yes, before I gotta put on my boss pants.”
The male Yasoi pursed his lips and, after brief deliberation, shrugged. “Not the worst idea you’ve had. And keeps me away from you. I’ll do some recon.”
An excited Juulet clapped in celebration. “Fan-fuckin-tastic! We’re going places, I promise. Just a few more steps …” she bit her lip in anticipation.
“Oh right!” she shuffled on her seat to adopt a more proper posture. “I think our special guests are here. Let them in!” she called out to the doorman upon sensing a cluster of unfamiliar energy signatures. Three sets of footsteps entered. All Yasoi. Two women and one man.
“Welcome ladies and good sir, have a seat. I, Juulet’oli’muustii’zan, High Priestess of the Nation of Viisan, humbly invite you to my table.” she opened her arms and nodded her head in respect, though she didn’t stand.
Cherii'cola'caliman and Arsii'cola'sevenuup were first to find their seats, with the martiarch Leluun’dorii’cola taking the spot opposite of Juulet.
“And we would be delighted to discuss how we can help you settle a few misfortunate scores.”
Zarina materialized atop the now slain thresher corpse that remained afloat, partially kept afloat thanks to the hooks many of the ships had planted upon it. Her hand reached into some of the bulging guts by its jaw and drew the obscenely large buster blade as if it had always been her's. With a single hand, no less! Albeit with the help of the gift and the unnatural physical might helped too.
With the grotesquely large cleaver over her shoulders in an all-too-cool pose, the partially transformed wildblood overwatched the vultures now plucking the corpse for winnings. Vivid, near-reptilian eyes glowing with a golden hue scrutinized all those that bothered to dumpster dive. Trinkets and baubles were fair game, but there remained hazards she trusted none with after the recent developments. Not even her own allies.
It was a while after Zarina took her watch that she heard the thud of a chest dropping at her feet, the top flew open and a few loose coins clattered out. Leon stood on the other side as the kind donatdaer of such loot. "A tribute for the fearsome dragon." His smile was apologetic. If Zarina had half the greed she jested to have then the problem would be solved, but the performer knew it wouldn't be that easy. A gift of gold was simply a consolation prize to the loss of her plan.
He stood there beside her and took in the Virangish girl's defined draconic features. This is the strongest he had seen them so far, even more than in the Forked Tower.
Zarina peered down at the chest. With a light tap of her boot against it, the bowels ripped open to present the winnings. One coin stood out, one she drew in her mind to compare with another coin she prompted into flight - a silver coin with the same face on both sides. “A bribe.” she remarked, her voice quite nasally to accentuate the unimpressed nature of her reaction. “Really, Leon?” she rolled her eyes and did not seem to have any qualms in pocketing that one valuable coin after a brief comparison. She hadn't rejected it, at the very least.
“If you're going to say something about how you wanted to save lives-” she raised her hand and waved in dismissal. “Save it, I already know.”
"An apology." The performer squatted down and begun picking the scattered coins back up into the chest. "But I won't deny you the sense of dignity. I'll put the rest toward something good for us all, I never had much care for money." He went to close the lid.
Leon paused, Zarina had beaten him to the chase. "I won't bore you with the repetition, only that I doubted myself when I saw your plan having almost succeeded. I was ready to join you and ensure it's success. Then it started drawing again..." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I wasn't sure if it had been sedated enough and I saw students nearby it, you most of all. Who knows of I made the right call, but I did it to save your life Zarina." He retreated the comforting hand. He had no clue how the dragon would react to that. Not with flames, he hoped.
Zarina raised her foot and pressed it upon the chest's lid, closing it and preventing it from budging. “I may act offended, that doesn't mean I'm above taking your advance.” attempts at veiling her smug satisfaction had failed. A sharp-toothed smirk reigned supreme on her expression. “It will go to a good cause.”
Reptilian, almost snake-like, eyes peered toward the hand that touched her. No sudden movement or reaction of great aversion. Only an uncomfortable and frigid look. “Of all people, Leon,” the blade over her shoulders was planted back onto the thresher's carcass and she leaned her shoulder against the flat surface of the massive cleaver, arms crossed. “I'm not the one you should fear for. In the blink of an eye, I can be gone. With animal-like brutality, I can rip off a thresher's brain. No matter how small it may be.” she dedicated her gaze to the scenery she had charged herself with surpervising. “I don't hate you. I'm not even truly upset. But I want you to do something to dispel a doubt I have-” there was no eye-contact as she spoke solemnly. “Make sure your 'allies' are clean from the poison we've found here. Hurt them if you must. You do not want to appear as Revidia's dog. You do not want this to happen again.”
Leon held his hands up from the chest and gave a small huff of annoyance. He wondered if Zarina was getting a kick out of sending mixed messages. He rose back up. (If this gets posted, this chest exchange can take place before the other thing)
Leon shrugged. "And yet I feared for you anyway. I'm sure you would have done the same for me." His tone was no longer apologetic but conclusive, it was what it was. He walked forward to stand beside her and followed her line of sight, feigning the same vigil the girl had dedicated herself to.
"My allies?" He had to take some time to think about what she meant. He thought of the other Revidians on the mission, then realised that one hadn't been among the looters at all. "It's a generous statement to consider Trypano my ally. Myself and Rikard made a pact with her to ensure the weapon's destruction. But I suppose she has a short memory when it comes to allegiances, I don't trust her to have kept that promise. Its fortunate we will all return to the same place when we leave Zengali."
Before Zarina could reply, Leon raised a hand to cut her off. "Food for thought, Zarina. Do you think that this weapon would be entrusted to an expedition around Mezegol if it were the only copy?" He turned toward her and looked into her eyes with certainty and resolution. "Do you trust me, Zarina? Despite all this, do you still believe in me?"
“No, I'm willing to bet they have a festering supply.” answered Zarina as she turned her gaze to meet Leon's. “I trust your heart, less so your head.” cold frankness came with unflinching eyes. A mixture of disappointment and frustration, directed at the universe rather than Leon himself, was the concoction that created such an emotionless reaction. “The fact that they likely have copies of the stuff made the plan all the more important. It WILL appear again. It WILL spread. And we don't have a proven weapon against it, other than the same old.” a nasal sigh escaped her.
“That bitch - the creepy one - was willing to let my friend die in order to study some disgusting slime. She is not a friend to anyone. A book you can most certainly judge by the cover.”
When Zarina confirmed her trust, Leon seemed satisfied and allowed himself a smile. Even if it was backhanded, it was good enough for him. With a wave of his hands, he put a sonic bubble around them and went back to talking business. He thought about bringing up the fact that Zarina had also been willing to give lives to study a slime today. But what did that achieve? How did that benefit his goals? "Zarina, I don't trust Trypano for more than just that. If she has taken off with the weapon, she stands to support a regime that would take the lives of thousands. She will see justice for it, I swear that."
After his vow, there was a short pause as he pondered something. "Another thing to consider: if you retrieved the slime, what if you couldn't find an effective cure in time? The Sovereign Pact could get the weapon and now it is just a normal part of war, both sides will use it because they fear the other will use it first... Right now, it's contained to a small secretive group, but undoubtedly they take their orders from someone." Leon looked at Zarina and smiled sweetly for outside eyes, but the subject matter gave it a conspiratorial look. "Would it not be better for the weapon to be disposed of before it sees the light of day?"
Zarina cocked her head, and then an eyebrow. “What are you getting at, Leon?” her tone seemed challenging, but her gaze oozed of curiosity. “Such a secretive group would be ... Hard to reach. I would wager that getting such people out of the picture would have bigger implication for the world than the removal of a bad, bad plague.”
It was the kind of subject matter that justified the sonic bubble he put around them. Leon's expression was performative, he wore a kind smile while he spoke of dire subject matters. To the outside eye it could have been perceived as a private conversation for personal reasons.
"Being hard to reach tends to happen with secretive groups, but I'd wager we both have a pretty good idea on who calls the shots. Even if we somehow stopped the weapon here, another would take its place, and another. A man who condones such things remains in power so what happened here is just a battle in a greater war." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Imagine if that man was replaced by someone kinder who would want this all to stop. Someone more popular to gain the support of the people. Someone, frankly, hotter." He gave Zarina a wink at the final jest to make it clear that that 'someone' was himself.
Ideas on who this replacement could be ran through her mind. It all seemed like a web of possibilities, many of which had their flaws but also their upsides. Then, of course, he used 'hotter' as a qualifier. The dullest of stares took shape upon the dragon's visage. “You? Really?” she scrutinized his form from top to bottom. She then tapped her thick nail upon the forearm he had extended toward her shoulder. “Are you even Revidian?”
"You have such little faith?" Leon was beginning to get tired of Zarina's mean mugging and his smile started to fade. He retracted his hand back and faced the scene of the thresher's remains. "It's simple enough really, I just need to marry-" He caught himself with a grimace. "Well, I'll find a way. If it is a matter of the people's support, I already have it and I'm Revidian enough... I don't plan to let the possibility stop me. I have the ability to change things, Zarina, my goal hasn't changed since the Forked Tower. This is the route for me to do it."
“I devoted my faith to a God that ended up being a guy in a big parka playing games in the trials. And I'm also not in the best of moods.” Zarina's eyes took in the gore that Leon had been watching, emphasizing the source of her discontent. “You alone won't make it. The great and mighty Hugo tried, and look what happened to him.” her crossed arms tightened around herself. “So I'll be skeptical. For your sake. You've got enough Yes Men. It's the least I can do as your genuine ally.”
"Well there's a big difference. I hop around and play games in the Trials and people only have more faith in me." He chuckled the thought away. "But your right, Zarina, I can't do it alone. I'm not even entirely sure you can help with this, but I told you anyway... I need you on my side and I don't want to let something like this get in the way of it. So trust me that justice will be done."
Leon shifted his eyes toward Zarina and tilted his head slightly to her direction. "We have an entire world to change, let's not stop that here. I don't think I'll get far without you staring me down on the occasion and letting me know my wrongs." He explained with an amused tone.
“Here's not the place for the details.” reminded Zarina as the vultures were piling up their bounties. One was missing, as expected. “But I'm with you.”
"I am happy to hear that." He said sweetly.
"Now!" he announced in a far more playful and upbeat tone. "As much as I trust you, I would rather minimise the risk of waking up with a knife in my back. So, we were actually talking about your love life this whole time. Me, being the nosy romantic, was prying into your fling with that Tarlon girl, Miret, was it? And of course, you were unimpressed by the poor timing, didn't want to talk about it, and told me to stay out of it. Agreed?"
"You may slap me if you think that'll sell it better."
The moment Leon finished and brought up even the the word 'slap', Zarina immediately seized the opportunity and raised her fist, arm bent in a ninety degree angle, to collide with his nose. Yes, she intended to potentially break it. Luckily they had binders up the wazoo.
“Great idea. Don't bring her up again, though. I'm still moody over it.” she warned with a faux-smile that was supposed to denote a another layer of fakeness. Although, truthfully, she did feel he had deserved some of it, tasteless comment or not.
Leon had extended his head forward a little to received the slap. He did not expect a punch in the nose and he recoiled back at the impact. "Ow, ow ow," he spoke through hands that cupped his mouth, "I had meant a pretend slap, Zarina..." He hunched over and expended some binding magic before rising again to a face that is perfectly fine.
"Honestly... this face is worth more than Zenobucks, you know." With a huff, he adjusted his clothing. Traces of blood on his hands indicated that it wasn't Zarina's blow being poor but more Leon's proficiency in cosmetic binding that had his face come out alright.
Then, when the silence took in, Leon realised it probably wasn't right to bring up. "... I'll keep her name off my tongue. But don't be afraid to let me know when you need help. I'm quite the asset in that regard and I do owe you a few favors." With that he rose a hand, clicked his fingers, and the sonic bubble dissipated.
It was right then that the answer seemed to present itself, at least from the other end of things. Whatever other leads they'd gotten, the one pointing to the Cola Brothers had seemed the strongest and they were on their way. Drawing close, Abdel had reached out with his tethered range and picked up what he was pretty sure were the rest of the group. They'd just finished beating up some hoods and were not far from the warehouse that they'd been told to bring the money to.
Xiuyang felt a pinch behind her ears that could only have been the group's lone tethered: <Close. 400. There soon. Learn? Danger?>
The reply came in the form of subtle binding magic. Xiuyang tattooed it temporarily across her shoulders where only Abdel could see. Learned much. Didn't catch it, yasoi. Colas, big threat. We go in with money, you ambush?
<Big Enemy. Big Enemy. Big Enemy. Careful. Distance. Will ambush.>
Once at the edge of the supposed Cola 'territory', Abdel instinctive reached out with the gift. Blood pumping. Echoing stridors. Sweat drops slowly smealessly through dry skin. “Man, tied up on the floor. Porbably Yasoi.” he reported with squinted eyes. Dayanara gurgled, curious as to the smells and sounds coming from the warehouse.
“Thre other people around him-” the squinting intensified. Was something wrong? It was not strain but a second-guessing. “One is MASSIVE. A monster. I have no idea how someone can get that big.” flabbergasted, he blinked a few times to reconcile what he had perceived with reality. “There are other people outside working. I can't tell if they with the folks inside as employees or others.” before any sort of conclusion could be made, he raised his hand to keep the attention on him. “There's a LOT of energy near the doors. I ... Can't tell what it is.”
Johann nodded once. He took a deep breath, psyching himself up, and pounded a fist into his open hand. He seemed quite anxious. "Then it's time for me to become a monster of our own," he decided, taking another steadying breath. "Maybe the other group comes in with the money and we're the assurance outside? the element they don't know about?"
“This is what the others are planning. I've warned them of the fiend.” Abdel confirmed.
"So, he said a lot of words, but did we learn anything?" Xiuyang asked Ashon as she approached him. Then, suddenly, she erected a sonic bubble. "Hm. Abdel is advising that we should keep our distance. There's a 'big enemy' at the warehouse, whatever that might mean." Meanwhile, she replied to Abdel as she dropped the bubble. Big enemy, inside warehouse? What else?
<Doors danger. Mystery. Three bads. One BIG. Two not BIG. One man down.>
Xiuyang snorted at "not BIG." She wasn't sure why she found it funny. Nerves, maybe? Then came her reply. Jaxan? she asked simply.
She put up the bubble again, this time making sure to include Seviin. "Only that our enemies have two tricks up their sleeves. A 'big enemy' inside the warehouse, and a mystery door trap. That's a bit of a pissoff. I wanted at least the appearance of a negotiation, but it seems we're in for a fight as soon as we're there."
< Not Know. >
Jaxan, resistance. Enemy of Colas, Xiuyang quickly relayed to Abdel. Negotiations likely futile.
Whatever they were discussing, they did not have long to do so. Niallus was the first to notice it, with Abdel being so distracted and Johann focusing intently on... something. One could sense chemical changes within him, though.
There were a couple blasts of energy and then a young yasoi woman came racing towards them from the direction in which they were headed, heartrate elevated, bright red hair pasted to her face in sweaty tangles or trailing off behind her. "You fucking bastards!!!" she screamed in the direction of something behind her. Tears were rolling down her face, and she kept running right past them.
Abdel side-stepped. The human-conatct role could be relegated to another, he had to figure out what had just happened. More Tethered senseroo.
Seeing the red head run towards them. Perhaps this is a sort of way for us to help, thinking the best idea, he decided to help her from whatever she's running from.
"Over here, we'll help you." He said to her. As he dashed towards her.
The woman ran right into his arms. She was small and soft. "They took it, the bastards!" she wailed. How the tears poured from her. "It was my future and they took it!" For a moment, she pulled away, perhaps realizing that she had just run into the arms of a complete stranger. "Oh, you're a yan... A huusoi. I-I'm sorry." She clenched her fists in helpless rage. "Those bastards."
Niallus braced himself as she ran into him. When she pulled away informing that, he is indeed a Yani."Yes i am, its ok. We aren't going to hurt you." trying to put her at ease, "What seems to be troubling you?" He asks her.
"It's those Cola Brothers!" she bawled. "I..." She swallowed, and then hung her head in shame. "I was forced to work for them. They paid well. I..." She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I needed the money. It would've been enough to start my own business, to not just be another poor girl from a broken land, to follow in my father's footsteps and be a candymaker." She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. "It was my last time doing... that work before I'd have been done with it forever."
"Fuck," she breathed, almost inaudibly. "They didn't pay me, they stole everything, and then they were going to..." She stopped there, noticing the others, suddenly. "Sorry. Thanks for being here. They won't chase if you're here, at least." She looked uncertain, regarding Niallus' companions as well as him. "Could I impose a bit and stick with you just until the danger's cleared?" she asked anxiously.
Abdel remained quiet for a bit. He took his time to alternate between keeping a keen eye on the warehouse and vetting this woman.
It was odd that they'd make a scene now of all times. Why would they want more attention on them?
“You should go home.” the Skuggvar-boy said flatly. “Once we're done, you'll get your money.”
She came up short and swallowed. "I..." she breathed heavily, trying to steady herself. "Wait," she remarked. "One you're done?" She shook her head. "You're not thinking of fighting those monsters, are you?"
She turned to Niallus? "For me!?" She drew back and shook her head. "While I appreciate that chivalry isn't dead - " She glanced Abdel's direction. "Though bedside manner might be - Don't risk yourself on my account, unless..." She trailed off. "You weren't already..." She backed off, shaking her head. ""Oh no no nooo..."
“If it comes down to it.” he kept it at that. There didn't seem to be any sort of lust for blood, but he did have two vicious-looking Skuggvars. The sort that could maul just about anything - Look at that wicked gurgling!
Oksana and Abdel spoke and then Niallus did. The woman perked up immediately. "Yes!" she exclaimed. Her eyes darted about. "You shouldn't fight them. they're strong and devious and they've been turning that place into a warehouse." She shook her head. "They've been building near the doors and I'm pretty sure those are traps." She shrugged sheepishly. "Not that I can say for sure. Not really the sort of thing a candymaker knows much about."
She leaned in conspiratorially, smirking, the tears now dried on her face and took all four of her saviours in. "Not just a back way, suunei," she addressed Oksana. She pointed upwards. "There's a false ventilation shaft on the roof." She twisted and pointed. "See that chimney?" She squinted and wiggled her pointer at it. "It has a ladder. It's their bolt hole and how they move people and small valuables they really don't want people knowing about."
The yasoi woman grinned wickedly. "There'd be nothing more fitting than fucking them right through that damned thing." Her face hardened. "I'd be happy to show you where."
Abdel, before making any decision, actually inspected the proposed passage. “The roof seems like a good shout.” remarked Abdel, his apprehensive gaze toward the woman softening just a little. “That said, if they notice anything, they could just flush you out. I'm not sure it's a good idea if they're actually prepared. That's where any infiltrator would go.”
She shrank back a little and shrugged. "I guess you're right. I just know they use it a lot and they were trapping the doors." She shook her head. "Definitely do nto go in through there."
Niallus considering the options that were laid out for them."Apart from the traps, and the exit, miss. Do you have any idea whats inside?" He asks her.
She nodded. "Well, it changes a lot, but they have a few things: lots of goods, both legal and illegal; weapons stashed about, sleeping areas separated from the rest of it, a safe or two that I was never allowed to even get close to, and..." She trailed off as if she was about to say more, but she noticed Abdel concentrating. "I have my suspicions about the basement, but I wasn't allowed there either."
< Chimney. Maybe. Possible. Safe not sure. Door. Trap. >
Xiuyang, shaken from her giddiness, takes a second to reconsider. Far away from door. Further than enemies. Blow it? she proposes to Abdel. Spring trap, know their numbers. In position to flee if needed.
Acknowledged, she replied. And with that, she fired her kinetic spell right at the door, timed with the movements of the illusion.
Abdel reached out to the downed young Yasoi. A bit of pinching was in order.
< Hello. > <Fine?> <Fine?> <Fine?>
<Help?>
<Hello> came the reply after a moment. <Okay. Help.>
Then, however, there was an explosion, and then another pinch. <HELP.>
Abdel didn't panic. Why would they put their ace in the hole in danger?
< Close. Coming. >
“Something's going awry. We need to draw these people out.” re-affirmed the Tethered, a palm on each animal to pacify their growing gurgliness.
The doors blew in with stunning force, exploding into splinters. The urns shattered and... there was nothing to see but a gust barreling in and then blowing violently back out. The fox-masked woman stood there amid the debris, her cloak flapping in the wind. She stalked forward confidently and it was perfect work, almost enough to make the true Xiuyang proud.
Two hoodlums - a yasoi man with red hair and a woman with short dark hair - coughed and reeled, but the great hulking figure who stood behind them was unbowed. There was a Gargantuan surge of energy, but not much happened aside from a few weak gusts of wind in the area of the apparent Xiuyang. Then, a couple more in the area behind her.
"Right in through the front door, not even an attempt to negotiate," she chided, collecting herself. "I had hoped to be working with professionals."
"Fantas, they're not here to negotiate. They probably don't even have the money." She nodded. "Kill the kid and let's split."
Abdel followed the movements closely. The explosion was not what he had expected, but to hurt and/or kill their only leverage?
There was little time to act. The scrawnier henchman - the one approaching the hostage - was immediately stared down by the tethered's gargantuan gaze.
“Go, now!” he ordered his group. “That big guy's going to cause a problem!”
The big man began gathering energy again for something else huge and it was clear that he was a real danger. Just as he seemed about to unleash it, however, the second yasoi man - the lanky ginger - froze and contorted. For a second, the youth in his kinetic grasp bobbled and began to fall. Then, he stabilized. Perhaps the others didn't know what had caused it or what it was, but it was Abdel and he had bloodwarped his enemy.
Abdel had a metaphysical vicegrip on the unsuspecting Yasoi captor. Not too strong, not too aware. An easy target. His position was kept as it was, thus keeping the poor hostage in the air and on the brink of oblivion.
“I got one under-” there came a deep, foreboding sense of dread that hit him. Trained his was was the ire of the monster he had identitied since they had arrived. He was found so quickly? Amidst all these people? If he let go, it could spell the end of the hostage, too. “Johann, Oksana! Big attack coming our way! I can't let go!” he yelled out, voice slurred from the hurriedness but clear enough, hopefully.
"I can feel the bugger," Johann growled, closing his eyes and reaching out. "Time for him to pick on someone his own size." He grinned maliciously. "Or be picked on."
An immense pillar of lightning blasted clean through the building's roof and struck the hulking figure in the middle. He spasmed and jerked, roaring in annoyance. "Oh ho hooo! Someone big wants to play!" he exclaimed, but Abdel remained in control of the man who remained in control of the hostage as the two giants tussled.
The red-haired yasoi straightened and, seemingly from nowhere, pulled out a pair of odd but wicked looking blades. "For the record, he's a sweet boy and I didn't enjoy any of it." She sighed and drew... and drew... and drew: a classic yasoi intimidation tactic.
Then, however, it was a two-on-one. The woman glanced between her two adversaries, taking stock of matters, and... while Oksana had been up there long enough to sense her massive energy draw, Lunara had not. A huge fiery blast came straight for the Palaparese, catching her cold.
Meanwhile, Niallus would've done anything to be cold, though in a different way. Arduously, pulling in and expelling massive amounts of thermal energy, he carved through the thick ghulthite. He could feel his hair burn away and his skin start to shrivel and peel. At first the pain was incredible, and then it began to fade as nerves died. Yet... bit by bit, he completed his circle and then it wobbled. With a blast of kinetic force, it came flying free. It hurtled across the warehouse and slammed into the opposite wall with such force that it punched a hole clean through. A burned, raging figure emerged, smoke and steam rolling off of his grotesque figure. The outside world beckoned.
"Very well," the manly yasoi woman was replying in another part of the warehouse She ignored Ashon at first before being unable to resist a jibe. "You shall have your... 'son' returned to you safely in five."
Meanwhile, Abdel, maintaining his concentration and slowly retreating out of range, soon found himself more or less out of the fight. It was a lot to maintain his lock on the ginger yasoi, however, and it taxed him to his very limit. Jerking his puppet on invisible chains, he began forcing the man to lower his hostage. Qadira and Dayanara stood guard to either side of him but, then...
Dayanara let out a loud gurgling growl and turned her massive head. Qadira hissed and lowered herself into a ready position. So occupied was Abdel that he could not take the focus necessary to sense what was coming until it was nearly there. Dayanara sprung into action, leaping at the coldfire wyvern while Qadira barreled for the dreadmaw halassa.
"Four..."
Dorothea began to stir, the dread power of Levidan the Accursed dragging her from the depths of unconsciousness and demanding that she take action, that she crush these subhuman nothings that had dared lay her low.
It was at this moment, as the youth was being gently lowered from close to the ceiling, as Johann blasted the huge yasoi through a wall and was, in turn, himself, driven into the ground, that the ground opened up into a thousand needles and a gravitational slam to drive Abdel towards his death.
"Three..."
Seviin rose and gathered her power, filling Ashon and Dory with it. These criminals were not to be trusted. They had wronged Mother Oirase and now they were Lord Exiran's playthings if there was any justice in the world.
It was then that Oksana felt another presence off to the far side of the roof. A tall, elegant man stood there with a thin black rapier in his hand. He flourished it and began walking toward her.
"Two..."
Abdel's one goal was to secure the hostage. Such a goal in such precarious conditions wasn't going to happen without getting one's hands dirty. He knew where this was going to end with thugs wielding too much power. Ever since his contact with those without faces, he was ready to be the one to pull that trigger. Now was the time.
Just as Fantas had brought down the kid as per ordered by the one controlling the puppet strings, a new force had entered the equation.
A wyvern accosted Dayanara while Qadira repulsed a shelled beast with her tail. Beast versus beast.
“Mierda!” swiftly, upon freeing the redhead Yasoi from his merciless grip, he immediately rolled out of the way from the assailant's ambush.
His eyes met with the final enforcer of that dreadful clan. “A lot of effort. A lot of exposure for just a cash grab.” remarked the Tethered teen between hearty breaths for air. “A lot of risk for a brat.”
Beastmaster versus Beastmaster, a showdown not to miss!
Dory's purpose was clear and her aim was true. In, she breathed, and out, and there a bullet flew. And yet, beyond her bubble, where a roiling calm prevailed, on past the perfect focus through which her bullet sailed...
Things were happening.
Unbeknownst to Dory, some three hundred yards away, Abdel, for his survival, had been forced to free his prey. A momentary lapse seized that ginger-haired yasoi. He tremored and wobbled and then released the boy...
Who fell from the sky.
It happened so fast the Gods must've desired it. He fell into the path of the bullet: she'd fired it. Dory had sworn to leave one of them dead. She'd aimed her gun straight for the lesbian's head.
But the shot struck the boy.
For a moment, nobody believed it. For a moment, the shot had surely struck its intended target. Reshta did not play such cruel jokes upon any but those who had earned her personal ire.
"One."
Ashon, Seviin, and Xiuyang were caught off-guard by the shot, for Dory had acted solo. The woman who'd been counting froze, just about to take a step forward. No sooner had the ginger-haired yasoi regained himself than he crumpled.
"Moila!" he screamed. "Dii! Oh Exi, dii!" His hands snapped the sides of his head, ripping at his hair. His sister's eyes widened like dinner plates and she stood there for a moment, frozen.
Then, there came a cold rage.
Niallus, having emerged from his deathtrap panting and snarling and still thinking that he had hair, did a whole lot of nothing but look angry, but he soon had cause to do more. He'd missed the exact details of what had happen, but all watched the boy hit the floor, his impact lessened by the red-haired man's intervention, but would it be any good? Had the bullet intended for his apparent captor done him in?
Niallus didn't get the chance to ruminate on it. Two more thugs appeared from opposite directions. While one was at the other end of the warehouse, and made Dory his direct target, the second sent a wave of hyperdense slicing wind at the Eskandishman from less than a dozen meters away.
The woman let out a shrill kinetically-enhanced whistle that carried through the whole building and even up onto the roof. Then, she and her brother barreled towards Ashon, Xiuyang, and Seviin with everything that they had. If the deal had looked about to go through, it was 'off' now, and the escape was on.
Isolated, all his allies in the frey, leaving him with only his bestial vanguard - a vanguard soon overtaken by the enemy’s own mirrored initiative.
Dayanara and Qadira were locked into battle with creatures. Two earthen dwellers, putted against adversaries from both the heavens and the seas. And there was Abdel, sandwiched between the two conflicts, eyes trained on the conductor of this wild orchestra.
“You’re one of them.” deduced the Tethered upon giving a quick anatomical checkup of the man. Same physical quirks, and more RAS than the average refugee. “You should know this isn’t going to work. Not after this.”
“It doesn’t matter.” spoke the Yasoi man, far more eloquent than any migrant. He had been here for a while, Abdel could tell. “Leave at once, or be killed.” he ordered, calmly.
Abdel shook his head. “The more you fight, the more will fall onto your family. Give up the boy and we’ll leave as if nothing had happened.” Abdel proposed. And just as he was about to add another comment, both he and Pepsii sensed something that deeply disturbed them. Both looked to the warehouse as a gunshot rang through the area.
“Damn it.” Abdel clicked his tongue. “Someone is going to DIE. Is that the goal here?” Abdel threw his arms up in exasperation whilst his beasts repulsed the assailants. A stalemate, for now.
Pepsii’s body language was not one of retreat, however it was not one of pure rage either. This human was garbage - absolutely nothing to trifle over. But with so many humans entering conflict with his family, this would spell the end of their clan. His raison d’être, after losing everything that drove him once before.
“Or we can silence you all.” the man decided as he drew and began to intensify gravity all around his range, and then focused all that power toward Abdel.
The young Tethered, with Pepsii’s answer as his cue, drew the black sword sheathed inside one of Qadira’s backpacks, and wielded it with both hands. Stance clumsy, but his magnetic field more than enough to masterfully govern the weapon, she pointed straight at the Yasoi.
“I’ve faced worse than you.” taunted Abdel, his nerves getting the slight better of him. “At the very least, I’ll keep you back long enough for that whole place to burn.”
Thunderclaps and meteorite crashes collided. The battle to keep Pepsii back from nourishing the Cola forces had begin, with Abdel as the last remaining soldier holding the line.
Pepsii stalked forward, his eyes distant and dead an implacable. “And you would sacrifice your very life for a mere payday?” he responded, barely arching an eyebrow. “You are either contradictory or a bad liar.”
From out of nowhere appeared a curved white blade in one of his hands. “Please move and I shall not harm you, tethered. We have no desire to cause any more pain.” He closed in almost... languidly, the amoutn of energy around him building higher, and higher, and almost crushingly high. "Reach out with those enhanced energy senses of yours and know for truth who shot that boy. We are not your villains."
“I'm not the one who rustled the hornet's nest.” retorted Abdel, just as immovable as the Yasoi. “But I must underline the irony of what you're saying - you wish to stop inflicting pain, yet you've left nothing but pain in your wake.” literal tensions rose in the air. He acknowledged the discrepancy in who shot whom, but it seemed to do little to rattle his stance. “You will release the boy. Do so and we will leave before someone actually gets hurt.”
“Hah!" Pepsii laughed. “How can we release what we don't have?" He shook his head. “Those vaunted senses of yours aren't all they're chalked up to be, I see!" He stopped right at the point of the boy's sword, unimpressed, and stood there for a moment.
It came seemingly from nowhere: the yasoi's sword tripled in size and came down in a wicked combo of slashes. Abdel had sensed the energy buildup, however. He was ready.
Abdel remained steadfast, but the revelation was what he feared: This was all a bluff. His lips twitched and his posture opened up as if he was readying himself for a swing.
But Pepsii was faster. There was no way this untrained swordsman could stop that. What he could do, however, was what he did best - Bloodwarping. Not the whole body, not even a whole limb, just the right muscles that made holding this sword bearable. Enough to break a stance have all that energy misfire. All that so he could retaliate with a simple and very telegraphed upwards swing, from under the hip to overhead, aiming to sever one of the arms.
A fantastic wave of kinetic energy separated the two before the attack could land cleanly, but it left a long, shallow slash down the inside of the yasoi's arm. His sleeve flapped open raggedly and blood trickled from the wound. He glanced at it annoyedly. "Why are you in Mudville, yanii?" He shook his head and spread his arms. The blade disappeared. Instead, surrounding the pair, came dozens more. "Come to police us?" He shook his head angrily as the blades began to rotate rapidly. "For some 'resistance' lickspittle?" He shook his head, throwing his arms out to his side. "You think you're the good guys! How little you know!"
“I don't think I'm anything.” rebuttled an unenthusiastic Abdel, still catching his breath after barely getting chopped himself. His hat had flown away from the immense kinetic blasts, but he still stood at the ready. “My job's to find people, and so I did. You've been in the way of that.” the tethered drew once more, this time to exercise his magnetic field on the rotating blades and proactively prevent the next assault. “Why bother with such a stunt? It was never going to work with a family like that. And for just a lump of money that can be tracked? You should be explaining yourself instead of me.”
"We don't owe you shit, yanii!" The blades whirled, one stabbing in every so often as Pepsii made his move and went to break around the stubborn boy. "After you ruined our home and even before those Tarlonese dirtbloods invaded it, I was here, trying to make this a home for our people: a place close to the mecca of magic, in good faith." A blade sliced across the youth's cheek and another speared him glancingly in the shoulder. "They only ever wanted to use or dismiss us, and all the drug dealers only wanted to keep setting us at each other's throats." He shook his head. "It's simple: we decided to fight the resistance because they were a plague on our land as much as any others, using the Tarlonese invasion to extort what little the rest of us have. It's a losing fucking fight, though. They control the narrative. We're always the badguys so, hey, that's what we've become. They blame us for the kidnapping, why not profit? With this money, I can get out - maybe all of us can. Now you bunch of clueless fucking do-gooders come in here and fuck it all up."
He let out a bitter laugh. "You think you know Talthan and Emenii. You have no idea how fucking evil they are. Now, get the fuck out of my way or I will tear you limb from limb for my family's sake."
Abdel found a moment to reach out and acknowledge the situation. The boy had been secured by Xiuyang.
“I did not do anything to your people.” corrected the tethered, each jab from the blades barely deflected by a mixture of his ferromagnetic matery and his robust sword. “You distinguish the grifters of your kind from others, yet cannot distinguish a Tethered from the humans in power. You are a hypocrite and a clown. It's no wonder we're all here.” he stood his ground out of pettiness, almost.
“But I'm no fool. I will let you pass.” his blade was lowered, just a little. “But under two conditions. You give your word that you'll stay away from my colleagues.” dark eyes stared right into the eldest Cola's. “And you tell me about this set-up. If the resistance is the architect of this whole shebang, then my job isn't finished. Answer me, and this hiccup can go away.”
"I have vanishingly little interest in your colleagues, though your tone has..." For a moment, something infinitely cruel - Juulet-like - danced behind his eyes, but then it disappeared and there was a sort of weariness. "We think the resistance has him. He's one of those idiot rich kid sympathizers - I'm sure his parents love it - who willingly went to them, spawning darklings for the junkies all the way." Pepsii shook his head. "They have him and they've foisted the blame on us so some more rich idiots from the White Walls come and squash us and they can run this place unchallenged. Congrats. Now get the fuck out of my way before I put you on two, boy." Without any more than a tilt of the yasoi's head, all of the blades pulled back, hovering threateningly around Abdel.
Abdel resisted the urge to maintain the confrontation. This man played the victim, but was as guilty as any other grifting organization with how he and his family treated others. That urge was as wicked as that glint in Pepsii's eyes. Still, he stepped aside, and almost simultaneously, the Skuggvars retreated with a more submissive demeanor. “Hey, fuck you too, guy.” arms crossed, the eldest Cola was granted passage. “Screw me, and I'll start with that scrawny ginger.” he warned.
Pepsii had already started moving, their hostilities at an end. His two beasts, just a bit worse for wear, began to follow. Then came Abdel's words, and he stopped dead in his tracks. He didn't turn. Instead, his voice was low and cold and hard. "You wanna repeat that, boy?"
He drew a supernova of energy.
“You heard me.” repeated Abdel with words oozing with venom. “Screw with my people, I'll screw with yours. That's how your kind operates, right? Leverage, usually under the form of a close one?” he matched the Cola's show of power, albeit far less spectacular than the Yasoi's. “Feels terrible, doesn't it?” he nudged his head to the side. “Go save them before they get themselves killed. Instead of trying to impress me.”
"You are a true mage of Ersand'Enise." He shook his head and jetted away. The swords, no longer held apart, raced toward the magnetically-charged Abdel.
Abdel sneered. Arms crossed before his form in a defensive formation, he focused his magnetic field into just a couple of metres around him. Concentrated and palpably electrifying, the majority were deviated, but not quite deflected. He was left with a matching cut to what he had given to Pepsii. “I've a feeling you are intimately familiar with such a mage.” he remarked, his energy devoted to healing that minor slice.
Xiuyang backed away, severely battered and burned, frightened by the power that reminded her of the dragons in ReTan. She would not stop the behemoth of a man from burying his sister. She had the money, and had been attacked and tricked multiple times. Feeling like a target, she moved to the outer edge of the conflict. She rushed to Abdel's side and whispered to him in hushed tone. She didn't bother to play up the accent—he knew who she was. "The hostage was another Cola brother. Before he tried to kill me, he confessed strange things to me. We might be able to find Jaxan, but I don't want her with us. How do we lose her?" She gestured towards Dorothea as she slowly patched what she could of her burns.
Abdel was still healing his lacerated flank and arm when Xiuyang had joined him. Ever the vigilant Tethered, once the big distraction named Pepsii was gone, he could piece together the current mess his senses gathered. Most notably the wicked and dense magic, one he had learned or at least a year now to be dark magic, was sicked upon one of the hooligans.
“The eldest pinned it on the resistance.” answered Abdel without the trouble of hushing up. They were very much at the edge of the battlefield, and the sounds of war caught most outliers' attentions. “Did you hear something similar?” once his wound healed and his plain apparel knitted back together, he peered the Rettanese-Revidian's way. “If so, we could gather those we need and leave while this bordello solves itself.” he figured, nonchalant to the chaos unfolding.
But then he let a half-hearted chuckle escape him. “What troubles you so much about her?” he did not seem amused, but instead pensive - a true pokerface barring the force smile when speaking. “A monster might be what we need to deal with other unsavory creatures.” once again, his eyes were made to meet Salomé's. “Would you save this woman that caused you grief if you could?”
The Skuggvars were there, Abdel was ready, they could leave right now if they so wished. But he seemed more interested in knowing Xiuyang's position in all of this.
It was Seviin who interrupted him, however. "I would. It is not ours to decide who lives and who dies, merely to respond as we are treated." Her hands found his side and sped up his healing until the wounds were gone. "She was a bad a person, but nobody deserves this fate, ever."
There was still Xiuyang left, and Seviin hesitated for a moment, uncertainty in her eyes. Then, she reached for the Retanese as she had the others. "I will answer your question, Xiuyang Solari," she replied beatifically, but her hands trembled as she spoke. "The only way is death." Soothing energies worked their way through Xiuyang's body after those words. Did they feel any different than they should have?
"Yes, he said the same thing to me. From the sound of things... in the worst case, they may be... keeping him as an aberration generator." She squirmed at the notion. "We may need monsters, perhaps, but dark magic? ...I hate it," she confessed. "I've seen the VOID. Its secrets should be buried," she insisted, as one who had been swallowed by it during the Trials surely would.
She turned to look at what was left of the girl who, like her, had tried to play ringleader and paid the price. "She dealt dishonestly at every turn. I was going to give her the money, forge an escape route for them if that wasn't enough of a bargaining chip. I had a ship ready and everything. I showed her far more kindness than she deserved... but even she doesn't deserve this fate, Abdel. All of us are good people, some with a few issues... but that woman is different. Can you not feel it? How she hates the yasoi, and takes shots at the vulnerable and fleeing."
Then, there was Seviin, healing what Xiuyang could not herself. From the beginning, the preachy girl had been more useful than the pragmatic Rettanese expected her to be. Rather, had she been even the slightest bit preachy since this whole ordeal had started? Her presence had become almost soothing, even... ...and then, there was what she said. Xiuyang's blood turned a bit cold. She glanced at Abdel to see his reaction. "We... It's not that simple a matter. What are you suggesting?" she replied, still whispering. Her eyes were locked on to Seviin's, inquisitive, but not judging.
Seviin shook her head sadly. "Mother Oirase brings us all into the world with love." The burned faded from Xiuyang's skin. Surely, she'd have been able to heal these wounds herself, but the act of having another do it - another care for you - was somehow a better thing. "I am not saying that we should kill her, but for the way that she is, death is the only cure." She pulled her hands back and wiped a single small tear from her cheek, straightening. "That is the Gods-honest truth." She tilted her head in consideration. "For now, we must be a united front, not violent, but drawing a line against such abomination." She looked meaningfully at Abdel.
"...Right," she offered, unnerved all the same. Perhaps it was her own family's legacy, her own darker nature at play, but she could have sworn that it seemed as if Seviin wanted her to arrange for Dorothea's "accidental" death, somehow. Perhaps she was fishing for some trick Xiuyang may have had up her sleeve... and in truth, she had two more cards to play, but now didn't seem to be the time to lay them on the table. This entire venture with the Colas appeared to be a waste of time and effort, and it was time to end it. "Thank you," she hastily added. "I mean it."
"But your assurances do not reach your eyes," Seviin replied sadly. "I am sorry."
Many appeals to emotion, some reasonable, some Abdel took issue with. Seviin's intervention was sweetened with her thoughtful assistance in the healing process, but sentimentality wasn't something this young man was going to afford.
That said, the binary nature of their options didn't sit well with him. “She is a problem, but not one we should necessarily direct toward us. If anything, despite the alienation, this has been to our benefit.” he looked at the carnage that was happening, and chaos and destruction. “Well, sort of. Still, I'm of the mind that we finish this job and don't get on her bad side. Keep her as a boon.” very utilitarian of him, but the concern in his expression he tried hard, and failed, to keep cool sold out his own anxieties.
“As for the Cola woman ...” she sighed, annoyed at the fact that what he was going to propose may very well complicate everything. But, alas, Seviin's approach to thing left him feeling as though he owed some humanity to the moment. “We do have experts on the subject in our current cohort, do we not? The short ones from the desert. If anyone can rectify VOID-bound issues, it could be them.”
It was there that he sensed Dory execution. His gaze grew hollow.
“... Nevermind.”
Xiuyang's eyes widened, taken aback. "No, really! I know you care, and I trust your judgment. It's just... showing sincerity is hard, for me. No one trusts a Revidian, or a Rettanese." As if to prove her point, her eyes involuntarily averted themselves. "...Jamboi needs my help," she said hastily, taking off.
"As you say, Abdel Varga." Xiuyang had darted off, afraid of Shiin's truth, and it was the two of them alone. She watched him for an extended moment as Dory sliced the beast's head off, before turning to regard the developing situation there. She had no further words for him.
Location: Zengali - Mezegol Day of the week: Victendes Time: Evening Characters: Zarina, Biby, Horus, The Blue Beauty, Ayla, Taleja @Ti, Vuvu @dragonpiece, Leon @Jumbus
Like an orange blur, dusk had passed and made way for the clear, starry skies of Severa. Before she could regain some lucidity, Zarina found herself gawking at the burial ceremonies from afar, shoulder leaned against a tree and overall looking mightily suspicious. How did she get here? The details of it she could hardly recall, like a routine she had done a thousand times. But she was there, body restored but mind not quite whole.
Widows cried, men lost their bravado and children stayed strong from their hurting, singular parents if they didn’t join the mothers in anguish. It was like any other funeral, with the themes of the sea not unknown to the coastal girl. She owed it to the men that had lost their lives to be there, but she did not have the courage to, as an outsider, impose herself as the one who couldn’t have done more. She knew they wouldn’t see it that way, but it was a good excuse to save herself some more grief.
A smart decision, she had come to find, as all this time lost to an ailing mind had produced a most curious fruit, still fresh in the mind and intangible - begging to be made real. Inspired, and with the sounds of celebration in the horizon, Zarina had a mission.
One blue chicken. Twenty seven contestants. One Virangish. One little Hippoboi. One shadow.
Zarina stood among veterans and savvy locals, a fish quite literally out of water with a strange animal in her bag. In an act that resembled a certain degree of self-consciousness, she left the bag onto one of the many tables used by the people to share the many feasts shared for the event. There was a conspicuous bump inside of it.
“Winner gets the chicken?” she inquired with a lazy index finger pointed at the animal’s cage.
"That is right missy! But she is a favourite this year. Will you be bringing a team?" the young host inquired with immeasurable cheekiness.
Zarina shrugged. “I don’t think so, no.” her gold hues brushed through the many that had now taken the role of gawkers. “More glory alone, right?”
A wave of chuckles and snickers resonated in response.
"Courageous! You are taking the true gauntlet. Know you will have to do so without magic. Are you still ready?"
“Hmm? Oh yeah, sure.”
The other contesting didn’t stop in their condescension.
“Delusional foreigners again, the thresher has them all worked up up there.”
“Brave girl, heh heh.”
“Laugh all you want, we still have all these fools to deal with.”
Before long, they were all set to begin the game. Once the shot was fired and the panicked chicken unleashed, all sprinted, including Zarina. She was going to play the game like anyone else, there was no doubt about it.
Many frontliners already met some unfortunate accidents with their overzealous efforts to catch the unusually swift and rowdy avian. A couple already gave up after feeling the pressure from the over two dozen men and women. Zarina, looking to still be in some zoned-out state, simply stayed with the peloton. None had gotten too close yet. Not until a good six or so had blown off the event in favour of another opportunity opening.
The fat had been trimmed a little. And then the first incident occurred. A young and athletic woman just … Didn’t feel all that energetic anymore. Like she hadn’t slept all night. She nearly tripped! Eyelids heavy and calves a tad number, she opted to sit out. The same happened to some of the more aggressive runners.
Soon enough, Zarina was one of the more invested players by simply remaining content with her job. The mages sensed no real drawing from her form, or any participant either.
They were like flies. Eventually, only a few not-so-threatening obstacles remained, and of course the chicken. The lazulite avian she was keen on saving - none could doubt her reasons, as a Darhannic. Given that a few of the drowsy and worn out contestants were also aligned with such a goal, suspicion had no real direction. The chicken faltered too, barely able to flap its wings and scratch an unburdened Zarina from gently sweeping it into her arms in a maner that it quickly found a desire to roost.
A winner, one that many were unsure to celebrate for. Well, the contestants anyway, but the cheers of the audience that had been paying as much attention to their meals, ware and other events as the competition itself wailed with their vuvuzelas.
Chicken secured, back into a cage for the Virangish to claim. So too was another avian - a black one that had been hopping from rooftop to rooftop with a little something in its unusually dextrous wings.
"Zazzy Zazzy! I follow! FOLLOW!" rapid nods came from the pitch black monkeybird holding none other than Biby.
“You did a very good job, Horus.” praised the mildly content owner. Biby, on the other hand, was antsy and quickly hopped back into his portable bag-home, while Horus was allowed to visit a few colourful things before being brought back home for bedtime.
Zarina’s grand revelation brought her to the next destination: Vuvu. Few foreigners found value in these obnoxiously loud instruments. The Virangish was no different. But there was something they were good at: Being loud and far reaching.
A sack full of magi was dropped before the Vuvuzela queen. It prompted a curious set of blinks from the woman. Nearly a hundred of these coins! For vuvuzelas?!
"M-miss!" the great Vuvu, said to be quite the terror, was caught off guard. "If it is a joke, it is of bad taste! After a funeral, Stagfulaizah ahidi …"
“Not a joke.” said the teen with the regally blue chicken still in a cage held in one hand and a hipped sticking out of her bag over the opposite shoulder. She smiled. “I want as many as you can offer. And a carpenter. I definitely need a carpenter.” the way she talked, one would think monotone, but it was more so overly casual for the situation. Crazy was one’s first conclusion. Was this why so many had died?
Vuvu furrowed her eyebrows. "No. I don’t trust this money." she waved in dismissal.
“Why?” a confused Zarina tilted her head.
"It’s suspicious, and I have a reputation to maintain! What if others want a treasure from Vuvu? Eh? Today is not a day for greed."
“Vuvu.” Zarina spoke after a brief pause. “You will be the hero of Zengali. I know you will. Your Vuvuzelas are the key.” she spoke with conviction and a completely unflinching expression. “I need at least twenty. And-”
A finger rose for Vuvu to stand by and then it reached for the inside of her top - a leather jacket that resembled what many other sailors wore. Out came a black scale - or rather a fragment of one. One of a kind, unlike any dragon scale one had seen before, and Zengali had its fair share of exotic animal imports.
"Is this to, as they say, sweeten the deal?" a sceptical Vuvu regarded Zarina, wary.
“No. It’s my bail for your treasure.” the item was posed right by the bag for the woman to claim. “I will return it. You can keep my treasure.” a more expression look came to be, one that pleaded.
Vuvu reflected for a moment. What did she truly have to lose?
What is your favorite color? Silver. Do you prefer Silk or Cotton? Silk. If you could go on a date, would you prefer a lovely gondola ride while being serenaded by your lover or a simple seaside dinner under the light of the 5 moons? Seaside Gondola. Favorite part of yourself? My Eyes What must your partner have? Tenacity. And Humour. Available or closed? Closed right now. Even or odd? Even. Favorite fruit? Date. Valleys or Mountains? I like both. But Mountains. Lor or moons? And if moons, how many? Moons. Until Oraff blesses me.
A questionnaire was given, but attention was diverted to the sheer mass of popularity the Mbita and Chika service had garnered. Slow business, but good business. However, Zarina did not have all night. A breather was perhaps not the worst idea, and the fabric she was about to propose was going to be tactically used to usurp some attention.
Then appeared familiar faces. A blonde girl, one she had far too much fondness for despite the glaring flaws and warning signs. A distraction. A deterrent. And then there was another blonde, this one a man. A ghost, she felt almost. How? She did not know. Was she growing delusional? Was all this just some massive daze? Or did she die from the thresher attack?
The fabric initiative had to be delayed. A disruption in her unusually smooth plan. Where to next?
The chicken woke up. She could not think. A break was in order - an excuse to go back to her group’s retreat. There, she’d find Taleja, and ensure the cup had fallen into her scholastic hands. From there, the intellectual of the group could reinforce her theory. But the night was not over. There remained one more step to her operation.
For an established socialite and rumoured dancer, Zarina failed to deliver any sort of notable performance. The festival raged with energy and she partook enough to avoid ringing any concerning looks, but there was little excitement in this one's spirit. Monotone and distracted. Anxious, even. Information on the recent incident had spread with the memorial ceremony she felt obligated to attend. It was no surprise that, once she had found the boisterous Sun King between tents, hidden in plain sight, she lacked the distinct excitement many others were keen on showing off before the big day.
“On a scale of one to that Enthish girl you brought over, how anxious has tomorrow really got you?” was her opening, a clumsy attempt at humour. Clumsy due to the poorly veiled fact that it was actually genuine. “I'm not feeling any of it.” she confessed, arms crossed and handbag slightly squeezed to her side. Inside rested a hippo that curiously studied the performer's demeanour. Uninteresting, it concluded, a total lack of yum. It hid back in to nap.
“I'm not quite sure what to do once we actually do the job, either.” and with this second confession, a blue ribbon wrapped around her index finger emerged from her hand that had been previously tucked inside her elbow. “I've asked Ayla to join us, if you don't mind.”
Leon practically frolicked up to Zarina still buzzing off the night's events. "Zarina, I would pick 0. But I don't believe that was an option." It was an exaggeration but not entirely untrue. The actual threat of the Thresher was the furthest thing from his mind, a confidence fueled by lacking knowledge.
He extended a hand to offer Zarina to dance but she retracted a little. It was then he took noticed of her crossed arms and reserved posture, then difference between them was night and day. Leon knew Zarina to be strong of both ability and will, so whatever had got her like this was not to be ignored. His expression turned to concern for a friend.
He considered asking if she was alright, but she spoke with direction, he didn't want to deter her from it for now. "Of course I don't mind. It sounds like we three have a lot to discuss."
Ayla approached and wrapped her arms around Zarina, giving her tall friend a hug. “So, you are our big bad competition, eh?” she teased. “The amount of factional one-upmanship when we all share the same goal is ridiculous. How are they going to determine if it’s a Sovereign Pact cannonball or a Central Alliance one that scored the killing blow? And ultimately, does it even matter if the threat has been dealt with?”
She sighed and looked at the pair. “Enough of my ramblings. What is the goal of our discussion?”
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