CitrusArms
Danyel
rabidbacon
dragonpiece
pantothenic
Izurich
jasbraq
Ti
Jumbus
The waves did not roar or crash. They were but tiny ebbs instead, most leaving lines in the briny sand less than an inch apart. The great shallow lake that they were part of shimmered off into the distance like a mirage before merging indistinctly into the horizon. Not so very far away, a great flock of flamingos stood among the shallows, their bills digging beneath the water's surface and into the sand below for food.
Tyrel released Juulet's hands immediately. "I don't like you," she admitted, "but I don't particularly wanna fight you." She shook her head. "No. It was something you said, about the lecherous old men and the fact that I'm a Damy-damned puppet." She took a couple of steps back, glancing out at the lake. "Out of everyone there, you were the only one to pick up on it, even if you had to be a total bitch about it." She nodded and turned back to face the other youth, her mirror image.
There was likely more that she was considering saying, but this was her attempt to feel things out first. Juulet was hostile - almost comically, compensatingly so. Maybe that was a good thing. Tyrel felt no obligation to impress her like she did with everyone else, even Miret. Maybe it was a bad thing and would lead to a fight. Maybe she'd have to kill or be killed.
“What can I say?” shrugged the more belligerent Avatar. “I've got a knack for sniffing out frauds and creeps. Well, in your case, creep-magnets.” she grinned mockingly, staring right into the Tarlonese's eyes. There was that madness that so many talked about deep inside those lilac pupils. Something wrong about this person. Was it truly insanity, though? Or was there something else, something Tyrel could potentially even understand as she stood as her Constantian counterpart.
Juulet then turned her back to Tyrel, an established threat and powerhouse she had long recognized, so she could look at the pretty sights. It was a nice change of scenery - being warped to the sea rather than that misty lake for any sort of borderline life-threatening encounter.
She took a deep breath, and then exhaled with an obnoxious 'Ahhhh~'. “So what do you want here, Tyrel'yrash'something? Certainly not a form a friendship, then you'd risk me giving a shit.” she turned her head to catch the one-legged figure's frame at the corner of her eye. “Can't have that, then you'd have to pretend some more, hmmm? So. Sad. I cry everytime. Sniff.”
“No, really, what the fuck do you want?”
Tyrel turned, as well, to regard the beauty before them both. "Pretty different from our trees, huh? Yours or mine." She gave them both a moment of silence, but Juulet exhaled a deep breath and filled it before long. There was something about her words that drew a snort of laughter from the Tarlonese and now she knew what it was: they were the same person, raised differently, but the same. It was the kind of irreverence she only ever showed to her friends nowadays, and her family.
"I am comforted," she replied with stoic dignity, "By your heartfelt display." She grinned until, all at once, Juulet switched tracks. Tyrel was taken aback for a moment, but then she shrugged. "To not have to pretend," she admitted by way of an answer. It was sudden, then: she just sat in the sand, fancy dress be damned. She drew her knee up to her chest and wrapped one arm around it. With her free one, she patted the sand, leaving a messy handprint. "Siddown, wouldja? We both got time magic. Not as if we can't just give ourselves more if we want, and you're not boring, like most people, at least."
A few of the birds took off under the vast golden sun, and Tyrel's eyes followed them. "I wanted to talk because... I dunno. Maybe you're the only person here who gets it. Maybe that stupid council from when we were kids was wrong and you're the one true avatar, chosen by the goddess herself from among the multitudes of poor little one-legged girls to be the saviour of her people and do what nobody's been able to do for five thousand years." She rolled her eyes. "Maybe it really is me who's the chosen one, or maybe they were totally wrong and it's someone else who's gotta die." She shrugged, but then furrowed her brow. "Doesn't it ever get to you? You're at the top but not really. You're 'revered,' but they all just want shit from you. You tip the RAS scale over nine, but you're gonna die, one way or another, by the time you're twenty-five, like the hundred before you." She bit her lower lip and twisted to look her counterpart square in the eyes with frightening intensity. "It fucking gets to me, that's for sure, and I'm you enemy, remember. I don't have to give a shit what you think. You don't have to give a shit what I think." Her fingers twined themselves tightly around her knee. Her shoulders remained a knotted mass of corded muscle as she tried to find serenity in her surroundings. "It's freeing."
A spot was given to Juulet. She didn't have to take it, or earn it or even ask for it. But it wasn't just offer, but a desire for her and her presence. An unusual experience for someone who thrived on ruling over feeble minds, constantly in fear or in awe of her almighty power. To have someone, a rival Avatar candidate and Tarlonese no less, offer her a spot next to her like a friend was off-putting to say the least. Her eyes were filled with suspicion, but the tone alone with the view made an aggressive reaction of poor taste - even for her.
Juulet found a solution. She did sit by her Tarlonese counterpart, but on the opposite side of where she was invited, and kept a half-metre gap between herself and Tyrel. This infantile gesture was the best way she could manifest a lack of hostility without downright saying it.
“Thank the Gods,” she spoke after Tyrel's lapse of vulnerability. “I was almost gonna. I appreciate you reminding me I didn't have to give a shit. Whew.” she made a sweat-brush gesture before snickering. “First off, why the fuck do you care what lesser people think about you? You'd be much happier acting like a true Goddess - someone who can do as they please. Even if you're a fraud.” she shot a cheeky, somewhat complicit, smirk toward Tyrel.
But then she had to process the inevitability they all had to face. The clock that was ticking, and all of these potential avatars would find out the truth in six years. And death, something Juulet could hardly conceive, came to be. For a moment she was silent, but eventually she coaxed herself to share with a gaze transfixed on the beauty before them both. “The Yanii's call it a 'Raison d'Être'. That one reason to keep going, and makes everything else so ... Small. Almost pointless.” she stifled the sounds, but a keen observe could notice some jaw clenching and teeth gritting. “You messed up loving that man - What's his face? Chad? And having too many care about you.” there was a growing anger in her voice, directed at nothing in particular, but it was there and different from her seemingly random outbursts. “You end up having something to lose - as a person.”
"Don't get me wrong," she replied, eyes flicking between Juulet and the lake, "If it is me, I shall be honoured." The birds were slowly picking their way westward and the sun shining greater and lower. "But if it isn't, I shall be relieved." She paused for a moment, blushing faintly. "I've been taught that love - in the way you consoi and yaniis do it - can cause pain." She swallowed and nodded, releasing her knee and undoing her sandal. "All of my life, I have." She set the shoe aside and stretched her single leg out until her heel and some of her calf rested in the water."But it brings such joy now." She leaned back, elbows locked, hands digging into the sand. "Later pain doesn't erase that joy. At least, I don't think so."
"You've helped, you know, just by listening and making fun of me like I deserve," Tyrel admitted. "It was that easy. So lemme be like those annoying old people who tell us what to do: you're mighty, suunei, maybe even more than me. I dunno. Most of the people we meet we could probably squish if we wanted to, without much effort, but then it just gets boring. Every interaction becomes the same: they're all scared and reverent and kissing your fucking toes while stealing uncomfortable glances at your stump and telling you how you'll cure the tethering and the addiction and shit gold and yada yada." She rolled her eyes. "Meanwhile, they make all the decisions when you're not looking." She stopped and considered, grinning wickedly for a moment. "Ya know, maybe it is a good idea to stomp on one every once in a while, just to remind them who's the boss."
She sniffed and tucked some hair behind an ear. There was a bit of a breeze now, coming off of Lake Albadon. "But I promise you that it's worth it letting some in, really." She shook her head, digging her foot into the wet sand as she did so. "You and I kinda live in ivory towers, but there are some people who are worth it. You just gotta find them. It's not always simple and sometimes it'll hurt but, in the end, I think it makes things a lot more... worth it. That can be a... what was it?" She scrunched up her face quizzically, freeing her foot from the sand and letting it slough away in chunks. "'Raisin Detter'?"
Juulet was being challenged in a manner that couldn't be answered with simple force or her word being taken as gospel. This was Tyrel, a being that matched her, had the same disillusions she held deep down and, despite her aversion to the thought, was a kindred spirit in more ways than one. So many rebuffed truths surfaced in the violent Yasoi's mind, prompting brief jaw grinds and toes curling tightly into the sand. The idea that, maybe, she wasn't the one to ascend and was robbing herself of truly valuable things - most notably the family she had just reconnected with - would be all for naught. She couldn't find the words. Even as Tyrel brought levity to their exchange, she met only a squinted gaze, one a tad exaggerated, and hushed grunts.
And so, without words to handle the situation, she found a way to express herself the Juulet way. With a simple swipe of her hand, some water was ripped from the large body of the stuff and befell the Tarlonese. “That was the worst pronunciation I've ever heard. Aren't you folks up North supposed to be more refined? Very sophomoronic.” she scoffed whilst regarding Tyrel.
But just as it may had seemed like she was stonewalling any sort of connection attempt, something just came out of her. A desire for more than the aforementioned stomping until bored and hyperfixation on one's destiny. “... You're not wrong, I guess.” she looked to the horizon where a grouping of gulls danced around, likely over some remote carcass. “I was, I think, happy before-” she peered down to her stump and even lifted it to emphasize it. “this. So fuckin' happy, it was almost sickening when I recall.” she sucked in her lips and shifted her jaw. The memories, they hurt. And they were made so real since her arrival here. “None of what we do makes me happy, suunei. But, we gotta. Because, no matter how strong we are, we aren't everything. Not. Even. Close.” she tugged her one good leg closer to herself until it pressed against her chest. “We gotta, for what matters to us, even if it doesn't love us back. Our worlds need us more than ever.”
Juulet sighed. “I'll give you one thing. Your Tarlon troupe of misfits - they're kinda alright. Somehow, they haven't pissed me off once.” and then she smiled. Nothing close to the maniacal show she made or the looming terror she displayed whilst formulating the most inisidious of machinations. It looked genuine. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I should give love a bit more of a chance. If only for me.”
Tyrel let the water fall on her. She held a hand out and blinked it away. She was just zeroing in on the conclusion that she'd pushed a bit too far, that this was more than Juulet could handle, when the admission came.
So, she listened. It seemed that Tyrel, who loved to talk, who'd been making funny voices since she was a kid, was always listening. Strangely, she didn't mind it this time. Her eyes wandered, but her mind didn't. Juulet raised her stump and, with an idle sort of impulse, Tyrel shifted hers so that they nearly touched when the Constantian let it down. Her family had taken it as a great blessing when she'd been declared a candidate for the living embodiment of Vyshta. They - a hinterland family of no particular note - had been plucked from their tiny settlement and taken to Yandreluul. Two years later, when she superseded the other five girls, it had been justified, and they were showered with riches and gifts and left to live in peace and plenty. This, she remembered well, for it had been her proudest moment, marred only by the tears of her... rivals? Friends? She still wasn't sure.
Yet, hazier and further were the memories from when she was five. There had been tears there as well: for the family's misfortune, for her misfortune for, surely, a young Tyrel Junior had ruined herself and her future with a careless childhood act. While she'd thought it beautiful as a child, Saliac had truly been a grim place: a constant battle against the grasping branches and encroaching monstrosities of the writhing wood. The adults had spent their days hacking a living from it, but there was always one, or perhaps a group, who didn't return every week, or who returned minus an eye, an arm, or a leg, and most of these didn't last long afterwards. They were replaced by fresh new discards shipped in from elsewhere - she'd never figured out where. It had seemed they would never escape it and she would be yet another damaged body fed into the meat grinder of the writhing wood. But then she had manifested the first inklings of her Gift, and prodigiously early, too! The men with the books and examining glasses had come around and decided to pluck her family from the morass and spirit them away to Yandreluul. In the end, losing her leg had been the best thing that had ever happened to Tyrel'yrash. It had saved her. It had saved her family, and it was all so long ago that, truthfully, she struggled to recall the feeling of two legs. She'd lost nothing.
If she was a bird in a gilded cage, she could always have still been living in Saliac, which was better now - the discards had begun to win the battle against the forest, as they always did - but still nothing like the dream that was Yandreluul. Tyrel still, in her heart, trusted the gods.
Clearly, matters were different for Juulet. There was more pain. It was the woman with the bird-eyes. Something about that woman, even to a nine-year-old Tyrel, had filled her with apprehension. Even now, she knew better than to broach the topic. Instead, she merely listened and accepted as Juulet seemed to come to her own conclusions: ones that the Tarlonese didn't disagree with. Absently, she, too, pulled her knee to her chest. Without thinking, she wrapped an arm around the other's shoulders. Instead, Tyrel, tried something else. She asked something she'd been wondering for half of her life: "That day, suunei, on the island, when the evaluators turned five of you down, you went off on your own. I don't know if you remember or if you noticed, but I came up and I was gonna... I dunno." She shrugged, letting her arm slide off of Juulet and her leg go slack and slide forward in the sand. "Comfort you, maybe, or maybe just watch 'cause I was a dumb kid." She brushed some hair from her eyes. "But you were there and, from behind, you were shaking." She furrowed her brow. "Were you laughing or were you crying?"
Pity.
Juulet twitched. The memories wanted to flood back in. But something blocked them, and the dam was already full. Her head hurt.
Get out of my fucking head.
“I don’t remember.” she answered dispassionately. A crutch was tugged over toward her as support to get up. “I’ve got boxes to find. Go talk, suunei.” she shot a passing glance at her equal before vanishing in an instant.
Tyrel released Juulet's hands immediately. "I don't like you," she admitted, "but I don't particularly wanna fight you." She shook her head. "No. It was something you said, about the lecherous old men and the fact that I'm a Damy-damned puppet." She took a couple of steps back, glancing out at the lake. "Out of everyone there, you were the only one to pick up on it, even if you had to be a total bitch about it." She nodded and turned back to face the other youth, her mirror image.
There was likely more that she was considering saying, but this was her attempt to feel things out first. Juulet was hostile - almost comically, compensatingly so. Maybe that was a good thing. Tyrel felt no obligation to impress her like she did with everyone else, even Miret. Maybe it was a bad thing and would lead to a fight. Maybe she'd have to kill or be killed.
“What can I say?” shrugged the more belligerent Avatar. “I've got a knack for sniffing out frauds and creeps. Well, in your case, creep-magnets.” she grinned mockingly, staring right into the Tarlonese's eyes. There was that madness that so many talked about deep inside those lilac pupils. Something wrong about this person. Was it truly insanity, though? Or was there something else, something Tyrel could potentially even understand as she stood as her Constantian counterpart.
Juulet then turned her back to Tyrel, an established threat and powerhouse she had long recognized, so she could look at the pretty sights. It was a nice change of scenery - being warped to the sea rather than that misty lake for any sort of borderline life-threatening encounter.
She took a deep breath, and then exhaled with an obnoxious 'Ahhhh~'. “So what do you want here, Tyrel'yrash'something? Certainly not a form a friendship, then you'd risk me giving a shit.” she turned her head to catch the one-legged figure's frame at the corner of her eye. “Can't have that, then you'd have to pretend some more, hmmm? So. Sad. I cry everytime. Sniff.”
“No, really, what the fuck do you want?”
Tyrel turned, as well, to regard the beauty before them both. "Pretty different from our trees, huh? Yours or mine." She gave them both a moment of silence, but Juulet exhaled a deep breath and filled it before long. There was something about her words that drew a snort of laughter from the Tarlonese and now she knew what it was: they were the same person, raised differently, but the same. It was the kind of irreverence she only ever showed to her friends nowadays, and her family.
"I am comforted," she replied with stoic dignity, "By your heartfelt display." She grinned until, all at once, Juulet switched tracks. Tyrel was taken aback for a moment, but then she shrugged. "To not have to pretend," she admitted by way of an answer. It was sudden, then: she just sat in the sand, fancy dress be damned. She drew her knee up to her chest and wrapped one arm around it. With her free one, she patted the sand, leaving a messy handprint. "Siddown, wouldja? We both got time magic. Not as if we can't just give ourselves more if we want, and you're not boring, like most people, at least."
A few of the birds took off under the vast golden sun, and Tyrel's eyes followed them. "I wanted to talk because... I dunno. Maybe you're the only person here who gets it. Maybe that stupid council from when we were kids was wrong and you're the one true avatar, chosen by the goddess herself from among the multitudes of poor little one-legged girls to be the saviour of her people and do what nobody's been able to do for five thousand years." She rolled her eyes. "Maybe it really is me who's the chosen one, or maybe they were totally wrong and it's someone else who's gotta die." She shrugged, but then furrowed her brow. "Doesn't it ever get to you? You're at the top but not really. You're 'revered,' but they all just want shit from you. You tip the RAS scale over nine, but you're gonna die, one way or another, by the time you're twenty-five, like the hundred before you." She bit her lower lip and twisted to look her counterpart square in the eyes with frightening intensity. "It fucking gets to me, that's for sure, and I'm you enemy, remember. I don't have to give a shit what you think. You don't have to give a shit what I think." Her fingers twined themselves tightly around her knee. Her shoulders remained a knotted mass of corded muscle as she tried to find serenity in her surroundings. "It's freeing."
A spot was given to Juulet. She didn't have to take it, or earn it or even ask for it. But it wasn't just offer, but a desire for her and her presence. An unusual experience for someone who thrived on ruling over feeble minds, constantly in fear or in awe of her almighty power. To have someone, a rival Avatar candidate and Tarlonese no less, offer her a spot next to her like a friend was off-putting to say the least. Her eyes were filled with suspicion, but the tone alone with the view made an aggressive reaction of poor taste - even for her.
Juulet found a solution. She did sit by her Tarlonese counterpart, but on the opposite side of where she was invited, and kept a half-metre gap between herself and Tyrel. This infantile gesture was the best way she could manifest a lack of hostility without downright saying it.
“Thank the Gods,” she spoke after Tyrel's lapse of vulnerability. “I was almost gonna. I appreciate you reminding me I didn't have to give a shit. Whew.” she made a sweat-brush gesture before snickering. “First off, why the fuck do you care what lesser people think about you? You'd be much happier acting like a true Goddess - someone who can do as they please. Even if you're a fraud.” she shot a cheeky, somewhat complicit, smirk toward Tyrel.
But then she had to process the inevitability they all had to face. The clock that was ticking, and all of these potential avatars would find out the truth in six years. And death, something Juulet could hardly conceive, came to be. For a moment she was silent, but eventually she coaxed herself to share with a gaze transfixed on the beauty before them both. “The Yanii's call it a 'Raison d'Être'. That one reason to keep going, and makes everything else so ... Small. Almost pointless.” she stifled the sounds, but a keen observe could notice some jaw clenching and teeth gritting. “You messed up loving that man - What's his face? Chad? And having too many care about you.” there was a growing anger in her voice, directed at nothing in particular, but it was there and different from her seemingly random outbursts. “You end up having something to lose - as a person.”
"Don't get me wrong," she replied, eyes flicking between Juulet and the lake, "If it is me, I shall be honoured." The birds were slowly picking their way westward and the sun shining greater and lower. "But if it isn't, I shall be relieved." She paused for a moment, blushing faintly. "I've been taught that love - in the way you consoi and yaniis do it - can cause pain." She swallowed and nodded, releasing her knee and undoing her sandal. "All of my life, I have." She set the shoe aside and stretched her single leg out until her heel and some of her calf rested in the water."But it brings such joy now." She leaned back, elbows locked, hands digging into the sand. "Later pain doesn't erase that joy. At least, I don't think so."
"You've helped, you know, just by listening and making fun of me like I deserve," Tyrel admitted. "It was that easy. So lemme be like those annoying old people who tell us what to do: you're mighty, suunei, maybe even more than me. I dunno. Most of the people we meet we could probably squish if we wanted to, without much effort, but then it just gets boring. Every interaction becomes the same: they're all scared and reverent and kissing your fucking toes while stealing uncomfortable glances at your stump and telling you how you'll cure the tethering and the addiction and shit gold and yada yada." She rolled her eyes. "Meanwhile, they make all the decisions when you're not looking." She stopped and considered, grinning wickedly for a moment. "Ya know, maybe it is a good idea to stomp on one every once in a while, just to remind them who's the boss."
She sniffed and tucked some hair behind an ear. There was a bit of a breeze now, coming off of Lake Albadon. "But I promise you that it's worth it letting some in, really." She shook her head, digging her foot into the wet sand as she did so. "You and I kinda live in ivory towers, but there are some people who are worth it. You just gotta find them. It's not always simple and sometimes it'll hurt but, in the end, I think it makes things a lot more... worth it. That can be a... what was it?" She scrunched up her face quizzically, freeing her foot from the sand and letting it slough away in chunks. "'Raisin Detter'?"
Juulet was being challenged in a manner that couldn't be answered with simple force or her word being taken as gospel. This was Tyrel, a being that matched her, had the same disillusions she held deep down and, despite her aversion to the thought, was a kindred spirit in more ways than one. So many rebuffed truths surfaced in the violent Yasoi's mind, prompting brief jaw grinds and toes curling tightly into the sand. The idea that, maybe, she wasn't the one to ascend and was robbing herself of truly valuable things - most notably the family she had just reconnected with - would be all for naught. She couldn't find the words. Even as Tyrel brought levity to their exchange, she met only a squinted gaze, one a tad exaggerated, and hushed grunts.
And so, without words to handle the situation, she found a way to express herself the Juulet way. With a simple swipe of her hand, some water was ripped from the large body of the stuff and befell the Tarlonese. “That was the worst pronunciation I've ever heard. Aren't you folks up North supposed to be more refined? Very sophomoronic.” she scoffed whilst regarding Tyrel.
But just as it may had seemed like she was stonewalling any sort of connection attempt, something just came out of her. A desire for more than the aforementioned stomping until bored and hyperfixation on one's destiny. “... You're not wrong, I guess.” she looked to the horizon where a grouping of gulls danced around, likely over some remote carcass. “I was, I think, happy before-” she peered down to her stump and even lifted it to emphasize it. “this. So fuckin' happy, it was almost sickening when I recall.” she sucked in her lips and shifted her jaw. The memories, they hurt. And they were made so real since her arrival here. “None of what we do makes me happy, suunei. But, we gotta. Because, no matter how strong we are, we aren't everything. Not. Even. Close.” she tugged her one good leg closer to herself until it pressed against her chest. “We gotta, for what matters to us, even if it doesn't love us back. Our worlds need us more than ever.”
Juulet sighed. “I'll give you one thing. Your Tarlon troupe of misfits - they're kinda alright. Somehow, they haven't pissed me off once.” and then she smiled. Nothing close to the maniacal show she made or the looming terror she displayed whilst formulating the most inisidious of machinations. It looked genuine. “Maybe you're right. Maybe I should give love a bit more of a chance. If only for me.”
Tyrel let the water fall on her. She held a hand out and blinked it away. She was just zeroing in on the conclusion that she'd pushed a bit too far, that this was more than Juulet could handle, when the admission came.
So, she listened. It seemed that Tyrel, who loved to talk, who'd been making funny voices since she was a kid, was always listening. Strangely, she didn't mind it this time. Her eyes wandered, but her mind didn't. Juulet raised her stump and, with an idle sort of impulse, Tyrel shifted hers so that they nearly touched when the Constantian let it down. Her family had taken it as a great blessing when she'd been declared a candidate for the living embodiment of Vyshta. They - a hinterland family of no particular note - had been plucked from their tiny settlement and taken to Yandreluul. Two years later, when she superseded the other five girls, it had been justified, and they were showered with riches and gifts and left to live in peace and plenty. This, she remembered well, for it had been her proudest moment, marred only by the tears of her... rivals? Friends? She still wasn't sure.
Yet, hazier and further were the memories from when she was five. There had been tears there as well: for the family's misfortune, for her misfortune for, surely, a young Tyrel Junior had ruined herself and her future with a careless childhood act. While she'd thought it beautiful as a child, Saliac had truly been a grim place: a constant battle against the grasping branches and encroaching monstrosities of the writhing wood. The adults had spent their days hacking a living from it, but there was always one, or perhaps a group, who didn't return every week, or who returned minus an eye, an arm, or a leg, and most of these didn't last long afterwards. They were replaced by fresh new discards shipped in from elsewhere - she'd never figured out where. It had seemed they would never escape it and she would be yet another damaged body fed into the meat grinder of the writhing wood. But then she had manifested the first inklings of her Gift, and prodigiously early, too! The men with the books and examining glasses had come around and decided to pluck her family from the morass and spirit them away to Yandreluul. In the end, losing her leg had been the best thing that had ever happened to Tyrel'yrash. It had saved her. It had saved her family, and it was all so long ago that, truthfully, she struggled to recall the feeling of two legs. She'd lost nothing.
If she was a bird in a gilded cage, she could always have still been living in Saliac, which was better now - the discards had begun to win the battle against the forest, as they always did - but still nothing like the dream that was Yandreluul. Tyrel still, in her heart, trusted the gods.
Clearly, matters were different for Juulet. There was more pain. It was the woman with the bird-eyes. Something about that woman, even to a nine-year-old Tyrel, had filled her with apprehension. Even now, she knew better than to broach the topic. Instead, she merely listened and accepted as Juulet seemed to come to her own conclusions: ones that the Tarlonese didn't disagree with. Absently, she, too, pulled her knee to her chest. Without thinking, she wrapped an arm around the other's shoulders. Instead, Tyrel, tried something else. She asked something she'd been wondering for half of her life: "That day, suunei, on the island, when the evaluators turned five of you down, you went off on your own. I don't know if you remember or if you noticed, but I came up and I was gonna... I dunno." She shrugged, letting her arm slide off of Juulet and her leg go slack and slide forward in the sand. "Comfort you, maybe, or maybe just watch 'cause I was a dumb kid." She brushed some hair from her eyes. "But you were there and, from behind, you were shaking." She furrowed her brow. "Were you laughing or were you crying?"
Pity.
Juulet twitched. The memories wanted to flood back in. But something blocked them, and the dam was already full. Her head hurt.
Get out of my fucking head.
“I don’t remember.” she answered dispassionately. A crutch was tugged over toward her as support to get up. “I’ve got boxes to find. Go talk, suunei.” she shot a passing glance at her equal before vanishing in an instant.
Juulet waited within the tunnel that led into the arena itself as Chad found himself revived after his defeat. She was leaning forward, both arms crossed over her crutch she kept balance with a twinge of magic if needed. She looked ... Cross.
Chad reappeared just outside of the arena and observed his erstwhile opponent for a moment. Then, he snorted, turned, and left immediately. He found Juulet blocking his way as he stalked off, and he raised his eyes toward her. "Just tell me one thing," he said, "did they fucking cheat?"
Juulet took a moment to study him. The wait for an answer was purposefully long and agonizing. "Hmmm." her purple eyes peered up into his. "They did. They cheated and won." the rasp of frustration and disappointment resonated hard in the back of her voice. "We're gonna lose." her growing anger was palpable, and her sights were fully trained onto the one who let victory slip.
Her crutch fell and Juulet seemed just about ready to do something.
And that something was a big hug for the one and only Chad. Both arms around his waist and her cheek pressed to his chest. "But you still kicked their asses harder than any fucker ever could! They barely made it." she squeezed hard and nuzzled affectionately. "That was fucking awesome. Those little worms truly had nothing on us in a levelled playing field."
Chad... took a moment to process it all and then, hesitantly, he let his arms close around Juulet and hold her tightly. "Thanks," he replied belatedly. "I... appreciate it." Still, he scowled, remembering nothing of the fight and only recalling that they had cheated and he had lost. "Still, if I find either of them one on one, I'm gonna kick the shit outta them for cheating: fair fight, one on one." After that, he decided, there was no point in dwelling on it. At least he had Tyrel. At least he had... Juulet.
That wretched enthish boy raised his axe over the one and only chosen Avatar of Vyshta. But it wasn’t Thomas Kavanaugh, but instead something far sinister.
Please no.
She could sense the permanency of it. No matter how anchored she was, that tool of execution was going to claim her life in a crude and forgettable manner like all her predecessors.
I don’t want to die. Please, help! Pluurii! Ashii! Suunei!
It came down for her. She closed her eyes but she could still see it in real time, somehow. The terror was so strong her heart nearly gave out.
Chad …!
The Mad Avatar awoke covered in cold sweats, panting and clung tightly to something. Or rather, someone.
Her arm was draped over Chad’s bare chest. The coveted Tarlonese was fast asleep with a third of his body in sheets while Juulet hogged most of it.
Fuck …
Juulet sighed in relief and held her lover tightly while burying her face into his shoulder.
The fucking crown.
She vividly recalled, one eye still open. It was coming back to her, what she had been a part of just a month ago.
Chad reappeared just outside of the arena and observed his erstwhile opponent for a moment. Then, he snorted, turned, and left immediately. He found Juulet blocking his way as he stalked off, and he raised his eyes toward her. "Just tell me one thing," he said, "did they fucking cheat?"
Juulet took a moment to study him. The wait for an answer was purposefully long and agonizing. "Hmmm." her purple eyes peered up into his. "They did. They cheated and won." the rasp of frustration and disappointment resonated hard in the back of her voice. "We're gonna lose." her growing anger was palpable, and her sights were fully trained onto the one who let victory slip.
Her crutch fell and Juulet seemed just about ready to do something.
And that something was a big hug for the one and only Chad. Both arms around his waist and her cheek pressed to his chest. "But you still kicked their asses harder than any fucker ever could! They barely made it." she squeezed hard and nuzzled affectionately. "That was fucking awesome. Those little worms truly had nothing on us in a levelled playing field."
Chad... took a moment to process it all and then, hesitantly, he let his arms close around Juulet and hold her tightly. "Thanks," he replied belatedly. "I... appreciate it." Still, he scowled, remembering nothing of the fight and only recalling that they had cheated and he had lost. "Still, if I find either of them one on one, I'm gonna kick the shit outta them for cheating: fair fight, one on one." After that, he decided, there was no point in dwelling on it. At least he had Tyrel. At least he had... Juulet.
That wretched enthish boy raised his axe over the one and only chosen Avatar of Vyshta. But it wasn’t Thomas Kavanaugh, but instead something far sinister.
Please no.
She could sense the permanency of it. No matter how anchored she was, that tool of execution was going to claim her life in a crude and forgettable manner like all her predecessors.
I don’t want to die. Please, help! Pluurii! Ashii! Suunei!
It came down for her. She closed her eyes but she could still see it in real time, somehow. The terror was so strong her heart nearly gave out.
Chad …!
The Mad Avatar awoke covered in cold sweats, panting and clung tightly to something. Or rather, someone.
Her arm was draped over Chad’s bare chest. The coveted Tarlonese was fast asleep with a third of his body in sheets while Juulet hogged most of it.
Fuck …
Juulet sighed in relief and held her lover tightly while burying her face into his shoulder.
The fucking crown.
She vividly recalled, one eye still open. It was coming back to her, what she had been a part of just a month ago.
Juulet was here. Late, obviously, but few knew it wasn't out of habit or to make some sort of attention-seeking statement. For a good fifteen minutes the one-legged Yasoi staked out the house she expected her 'friends' to be at in hopes of seeing them. Whether it was Ashon or Tyrel or even Chad. But, alas, she either missed them or they hadn't arrived yet. The only silver lining was Johann, but that still required mental prep and a bit of self-pep talking. With a deep breath, she teleported a few meters away from the entrance.
Eyes were instantly on her the moment she entered and she did not pretend like they didn't happen. She looked at every gawking guest with wide and unreadable eyes. “Yo.” was the only thing she knew how to say to these strangers in an event that didn't revolve around her. A truly foreign experience, and she desperately sought out a familiar face.
A seat was claimed outside with many appetizers gathered in her arms for her to gorge on as she just let time pass. When a particular octopus came in to serve her, she couldn't help but giggle and ... Just converse with it. “Sweet tartines.” she spoke while still chewing her food. “Hey, wait, I want more of those.” poor Osman was made to stay and hold up the tray for her while she moved on to the champagne. “You know, once I had this Yanii drink with another Yanii by a river and we got a little high on Jamb'syp, so we then caught a marmoset to dress it as a pirate and ...” and she went on and on to poor little Osman, confused as he was.
Xiuyang having wandered off, Ciro excused himself from the table and decided to pursue a different quarry. He found her quite a ways from the others: a yasoi girl by her lonesome, an anti-Tyrel, in some respects. "Ah," he exclaimed, "now there's someone I've been looking for."
An Anti-Tyrel indeed. She hadn't changed from her usual, although that was enough to stand out with an emphasis on white pantloons that somewhat concealed the stump she had never been proud of and the colourful green and purple sleevelee top. A thick mane of hair, part black and part violet, haned over the right side of her head, leaving the left, recently shaven side fully visible to see.
After losing her conversation octopus, she became bored and rested her cheek on her palm while her idle hand drummed over the table before her, occasionally eating some bite-sized goodies that came her way.
“Hmmm?” she raised a brow at the first who came to greet her. “Oh.” she sounded just a tad disappointed. The bored - and definitely not insecure or anxious - Avatar looked his way briefly before inspecting her nails. “Is that so? What's a silver tongue and totally not shady Yanii want with me? Gonna sell me a boat I can ride in my puddle?”
"No. I only sell boats to people I like," he replied. "Besides, you just teleport anyhow." He shrugged and glanced about for any others nearby, but she was all alone. "May I sit?" he asked.
Juulet peered at the chair opposite of her and gestured toward it with palpable disinterest. “Free party, I guess.”
Ciro sat himself across from her. He didn't appear to drop any sonic bubble around the pair of them. "Don't worry," he assured her. "You hurt somebody very close to me, so this isn't a social call." He shook his head. "But you're strong and I think our interests might align this time." He paused and set down the bottle he'd been holding on the table. "You remember when things got crazy at the arena and I motioned that I needed to talk to you?" His eyes darted about for a moment. "That's because I saw something. I think I know who was behind it all. In fact, I'm almost certain."
Juulet slowly tilted her head until she could properly regard Ciro again. Her gaze remained half-lidded, as if she still had no interest in him. But, she did latch onto something. “Why do you like her?” she asked as everything else had simply flown over her head.
"Not the tidbit I was hoping you'd seize on," Ciro admitted, starting to uncork the bottle. "That war happens, the Grey Army's free to invade your lands and harass your people more." He shook his head. "Stupid greybeards." He scowled, but then let it fade into a sigh. Ciro shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know either? Why does anyone love? Why do we like who we like?" He fetched a pair of glasses from a passing octopus and offered up a quick, "grazie." He did not presume to pour for Juulet, but left it open. "Well, if I'm to be honest, we both know she's not the most beautiful woman out there, nor the most powerful, though she doesn't fare poorly in that metric either." He shrugged again. "Yet, I love her. Who can say why?"
“That is such a nothing answer from someone I pegged as smart.” Juulet seized her glass and tipped it for a fill. “Grazie.” she said with an exaggerated Revidian accent - which actually sounded close to the real deal, coincidentally. “You're able to determine the grand aberration conspiracy, but-” she took a sip while eyeing the passersby behind Ciro. “Can't determine what makes your heart throb and your wood swell over some malformed chick. It must be yet another conspiracy.” she chugged the rest of her drink and presented her empty glass once more to be filled. “Who dunnit, then?”
"Don't you insult her," Ciro said with quiet coldness. "I appear to have misjudged you." He took his bottle of wine back and made to rise.
“Sit down.” Juulet ordered, dry and with authority. “I take back what I said. I get rowdy when I get nothing answers to my questions.” still, she had her glass presented. “You were implying something about the Tarlon Greys. What did you mean?”
"You received an honest answer," Ciro replied, unsatisfying though to may be to both of us, "and, powerful though you may be, you do not command me as if I am a dog." He narrowed his eyes, ready to die on this hill if need be but also willing to have a mutually beneficial conversation if heeded.
Juulet raised her idle hand in supposed surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad.” she spoke in a manner that really seemed like she was saying what he wanted to hear more so than regret. “You're no pushover. Guess I can respect that.” she leaned back against her seat, letting her arm hand over the crest rail. “As you can see, I'm not exactly the best with social events. Comes with the job that involves compulsively lying addicts and sycophants. And many other things.”
Ciro sat back down. "Believe it or not, I can sympathize with that," he admitted. "But anyhow, it's a matter of those Tarlonese wanting to start a war between human nations so there's no chance of us intervening to stop what they're doing in your lands." He shook his head tightly. "And I would say it was Tyrel had I not been closely watching her at the time." He scowled, lowering his voice and leaning in. "It was the Arch-Zeno herself," he whispered. "I'm no master, but I know a small something of Dark Magic - boyhood curiosity about demons. It was her and now she'll likely have the war she wants." He drew back. "Don't trust the Torragonese."
Juulet listened, and listened well. Her eyes seemed unfocused, but her acute magic sense was hard at work. Every little detail of Ciro was taken into account. However, she had always gravely overestimated her ability to sniff out the most deceptive. “Torragonese.” she said before shoving an olive in her mouth. “Sounds awfully close to Tarlonese if you ask me.” she spat out the seed onto the grass behind the table. “Are those not your allies, though? Which would imply you don't want this war to happen. Not very patriotic.” she taunted with a foxy smirk. “The faculty's off-limit. For now. Do you have proof or did you just deduce this?”
Ciro scowled. "I do what my country asks of me," he admitted, "but I'm not required to like it." He plucked an olive of his own, though he spat the pit into a small bowl instead. "They don't get to control my thoughts." He tilted his head challengingly. "As for the faculty..." His eyes narrowed in a predatory manner as he took a second olive. "They are not as invulnerable as some might think." He chewed and spat, his manner more casual this time. "Ss for her guilt? I have only my skills as a mage and my intuition as a thinking man." He shrugged and leaned in again. "And other little things, like the movements of their ships. Their silence on certain issues." He reached for his wine. "I guess what I'm saying is that there are plenty of people who want their war, from plenty of angles. You'll have to stand on your own." He poured her some more wine. "I get the sense that you can, but the people around you..." He shrugged. "Your description of them doesn't inspire much confidence." He scowled and clenched his jaw. "Fuck. I wish I could stop it all and we could live like this." He gestured at the party. His eyes lingered on Xiuyang for an extended moment.
“I believe you.” Juulet commented regarding the state of the school as she looked over to Jocasta in particular. “They're out of trump cards. And their new golden child is ...” a cocky chuckle escaped her. “Still, off-limits. I may be a tad out there, but I ain't stupid.” she let out of sigh.
Then she nodded and took in the seductive joy and peace of the party. It reminded of home - both her homes. It was nice, but it was also another distraction. But there was a creeping notion that clawed its way into her mind. One addled by the lack of fixes she's been experiencing for the last few days. The voices and the pain weren't there yet, but the fear of them was ever present. She looked to have a moment of absence. “My people will survive this storm. They always will.” she answered dismissively, dodging the subject. Juulet shook her head. “The damage is done, too. So I'm left to wonder, what do you think should be done about this?”
Ciro nodded and smiled grimly, finishing another sip of wine. He drank and drank some more but never seemed to progress beyond being slightly buzzed. "I think they should die," he replied frankly. "I know that it's awfully inefficient and even dangerous, but they shouldn't be allowed to profit from the deaths they've caused." She shook his head. "I don't like this sort of chaos but there are too many forces working towards it to stop. Chaos is a beast: a great raging thing that resists control and leaves bodies in its wake but, wherever it goes, it clears a path. In eintend to prod that beast where I can, and I intend to follow the path it leads straight to the halls of power, to supplant the people who occupy them now." He swirled his wine. "Well, that's the dream, anyhow, or I could just end up another body on a battlefield." He shrugged. "I may seem clever to some, silver-tongued, but I don't write my own legend. I am smart," he agreed, "but not as smart as you may think. Still, a little goad to the Perrench, and they will do much of the work for me. It's about time this place changed."
Juulet grinned, giggled and then leaned in to the point where she almost lied on the table. She was uncomfortably close to Ciro, all so she could inspect his eyes - no, just one eye with her unusual purple ones. “Fuck, it's nicer than the black-highs to hear that from one of you fancy yaniis. And I can't even see an ounce of bullshit too.” she bit her lip and held back some more childish giggles before slowly retreating back like a serpent returning into its hole.
Both her elbows rested on the wooden surface before her and her palms both supported her chin. “I agree. The world could do with a little Stresian cleaning. Have them all go boom.” then, a frown. An obnoxious 'But' popped out of her. “Here's the problem - they're all so fucking strong and surrounded by strong people with other strong people wanting to continue their strongman strong endeavour. Basically, if it was that simple to kill 'em, it'd be done. Loooooong ago. Or, maybe someone did, and shit didn't change and we think we can do better, much like the previous fuckos did.”
Still, despite this drop in energy, she did not move from her posture and her giddiness remaind. “But that's until I showed up. But I'm now left to wonder why you give a shit about me? Surely it's because I inspire a ton of confidence. Or that the world truly cares about us.”
Ciro smiled easily. "It's because you're strong. Simple as." He shrugged. "Whatever else we might disagree on - and I suspect it's a lot - I think we both have this same desire. I'm putting out feelers," he admitted. "For an order of the willing. Their time atop the world grows short, like sand ticking through an hourglass. Perhaps we are merely repeating the mistakes of those who came before, but I believe that we are better, more learned, and more moral than they. When I have more, we shall make our play."
In the meantime, if she stuffed her hands into her pockets for any reason, Xiuyang may have found a note: "One shows the hunter that she is not prey and turns his eyes to other prey. Thus, he is pacified. Thus, he is her tool." It was in handwriting that she would have recognized as Ciro Volta's. It disintegrated a couple of seconds after being read, having been enchanted to recognize her fingertips and hers alone.
“That's a good reason.” remarked Juulet. “Good enough for me to know that you know it's in nobody's best interest to fuck me.” she crossed her arms, pushed her knee against the table's edge and leaned back on her chair, causing it to balance itself on only two legs. “I'll think about it - getting you onto the table. Our table.” she smiled sweetly. “You likely deduced by now that I'm not the grand authority of Constantian Yasoi lands.” she mumbled the rest. “Not one bit.”
Ciro raised a glass in toast. "You may have deduced that I am not the grand authority of Revidia. Nonetheless, I believe we both have something to offer. I'll be in touch."
Eyes were instantly on her the moment she entered and she did not pretend like they didn't happen. She looked at every gawking guest with wide and unreadable eyes. “Yo.” was the only thing she knew how to say to these strangers in an event that didn't revolve around her. A truly foreign experience, and she desperately sought out a familiar face.
A seat was claimed outside with many appetizers gathered in her arms for her to gorge on as she just let time pass. When a particular octopus came in to serve her, she couldn't help but giggle and ... Just converse with it. “Sweet tartines.” she spoke while still chewing her food. “Hey, wait, I want more of those.” poor Osman was made to stay and hold up the tray for her while she moved on to the champagne. “You know, once I had this Yanii drink with another Yanii by a river and we got a little high on Jamb'syp, so we then caught a marmoset to dress it as a pirate and ...” and she went on and on to poor little Osman, confused as he was.
Xiuyang having wandered off, Ciro excused himself from the table and decided to pursue a different quarry. He found her quite a ways from the others: a yasoi girl by her lonesome, an anti-Tyrel, in some respects. "Ah," he exclaimed, "now there's someone I've been looking for."
An Anti-Tyrel indeed. She hadn't changed from her usual, although that was enough to stand out with an emphasis on white pantloons that somewhat concealed the stump she had never been proud of and the colourful green and purple sleevelee top. A thick mane of hair, part black and part violet, haned over the right side of her head, leaving the left, recently shaven side fully visible to see.
After losing her conversation octopus, she became bored and rested her cheek on her palm while her idle hand drummed over the table before her, occasionally eating some bite-sized goodies that came her way.
“Hmmm?” she raised a brow at the first who came to greet her. “Oh.” she sounded just a tad disappointed. The bored - and definitely not insecure or anxious - Avatar looked his way briefly before inspecting her nails. “Is that so? What's a silver tongue and totally not shady Yanii want with me? Gonna sell me a boat I can ride in my puddle?”
"No. I only sell boats to people I like," he replied. "Besides, you just teleport anyhow." He shrugged and glanced about for any others nearby, but she was all alone. "May I sit?" he asked.
Juulet peered at the chair opposite of her and gestured toward it with palpable disinterest. “Free party, I guess.”
Ciro sat himself across from her. He didn't appear to drop any sonic bubble around the pair of them. "Don't worry," he assured her. "You hurt somebody very close to me, so this isn't a social call." He shook his head. "But you're strong and I think our interests might align this time." He paused and set down the bottle he'd been holding on the table. "You remember when things got crazy at the arena and I motioned that I needed to talk to you?" His eyes darted about for a moment. "That's because I saw something. I think I know who was behind it all. In fact, I'm almost certain."
Juulet slowly tilted her head until she could properly regard Ciro again. Her gaze remained half-lidded, as if she still had no interest in him. But, she did latch onto something. “Why do you like her?” she asked as everything else had simply flown over her head.
"Not the tidbit I was hoping you'd seize on," Ciro admitted, starting to uncork the bottle. "That war happens, the Grey Army's free to invade your lands and harass your people more." He shook his head. "Stupid greybeards." He scowled, but then let it fade into a sigh. Ciro shrugged. "To be honest, I don't know either? Why does anyone love? Why do we like who we like?" He fetched a pair of glasses from a passing octopus and offered up a quick, "grazie." He did not presume to pour for Juulet, but left it open. "Well, if I'm to be honest, we both know she's not the most beautiful woman out there, nor the most powerful, though she doesn't fare poorly in that metric either." He shrugged again. "Yet, I love her. Who can say why?"
“That is such a nothing answer from someone I pegged as smart.” Juulet seized her glass and tipped it for a fill. “Grazie.” she said with an exaggerated Revidian accent - which actually sounded close to the real deal, coincidentally. “You're able to determine the grand aberration conspiracy, but-” she took a sip while eyeing the passersby behind Ciro. “Can't determine what makes your heart throb and your wood swell over some malformed chick. It must be yet another conspiracy.” she chugged the rest of her drink and presented her empty glass once more to be filled. “Who dunnit, then?”
"Don't you insult her," Ciro said with quiet coldness. "I appear to have misjudged you." He took his bottle of wine back and made to rise.
“Sit down.” Juulet ordered, dry and with authority. “I take back what I said. I get rowdy when I get nothing answers to my questions.” still, she had her glass presented. “You were implying something about the Tarlon Greys. What did you mean?”
"You received an honest answer," Ciro replied, unsatisfying though to may be to both of us, "and, powerful though you may be, you do not command me as if I am a dog." He narrowed his eyes, ready to die on this hill if need be but also willing to have a mutually beneficial conversation if heeded.
Juulet raised her idle hand in supposed surrender. “Alright, alright. My bad.” she spoke in a manner that really seemed like she was saying what he wanted to hear more so than regret. “You're no pushover. Guess I can respect that.” she leaned back against her seat, letting her arm hand over the crest rail. “As you can see, I'm not exactly the best with social events. Comes with the job that involves compulsively lying addicts and sycophants. And many other things.”
Ciro sat back down. "Believe it or not, I can sympathize with that," he admitted. "But anyhow, it's a matter of those Tarlonese wanting to start a war between human nations so there's no chance of us intervening to stop what they're doing in your lands." He shook his head tightly. "And I would say it was Tyrel had I not been closely watching her at the time." He scowled, lowering his voice and leaning in. "It was the Arch-Zeno herself," he whispered. "I'm no master, but I know a small something of Dark Magic - boyhood curiosity about demons. It was her and now she'll likely have the war she wants." He drew back. "Don't trust the Torragonese."
Juulet listened, and listened well. Her eyes seemed unfocused, but her acute magic sense was hard at work. Every little detail of Ciro was taken into account. However, she had always gravely overestimated her ability to sniff out the most deceptive. “Torragonese.” she said before shoving an olive in her mouth. “Sounds awfully close to Tarlonese if you ask me.” she spat out the seed onto the grass behind the table. “Are those not your allies, though? Which would imply you don't want this war to happen. Not very patriotic.” she taunted with a foxy smirk. “The faculty's off-limit. For now. Do you have proof or did you just deduce this?”
Ciro scowled. "I do what my country asks of me," he admitted, "but I'm not required to like it." He plucked an olive of his own, though he spat the pit into a small bowl instead. "They don't get to control my thoughts." He tilted his head challengingly. "As for the faculty..." His eyes narrowed in a predatory manner as he took a second olive. "They are not as invulnerable as some might think." He chewed and spat, his manner more casual this time. "Ss for her guilt? I have only my skills as a mage and my intuition as a thinking man." He shrugged and leaned in again. "And other little things, like the movements of their ships. Their silence on certain issues." He reached for his wine. "I guess what I'm saying is that there are plenty of people who want their war, from plenty of angles. You'll have to stand on your own." He poured her some more wine. "I get the sense that you can, but the people around you..." He shrugged. "Your description of them doesn't inspire much confidence." He scowled and clenched his jaw. "Fuck. I wish I could stop it all and we could live like this." He gestured at the party. His eyes lingered on Xiuyang for an extended moment.
“I believe you.” Juulet commented regarding the state of the school as she looked over to Jocasta in particular. “They're out of trump cards. And their new golden child is ...” a cocky chuckle escaped her. “Still, off-limits. I may be a tad out there, but I ain't stupid.” she let out of sigh.
Then she nodded and took in the seductive joy and peace of the party. It reminded of home - both her homes. It was nice, but it was also another distraction. But there was a creeping notion that clawed its way into her mind. One addled by the lack of fixes she's been experiencing for the last few days. The voices and the pain weren't there yet, but the fear of them was ever present. She looked to have a moment of absence. “My people will survive this storm. They always will.” she answered dismissively, dodging the subject. Juulet shook her head. “The damage is done, too. So I'm left to wonder, what do you think should be done about this?”
Ciro nodded and smiled grimly, finishing another sip of wine. He drank and drank some more but never seemed to progress beyond being slightly buzzed. "I think they should die," he replied frankly. "I know that it's awfully inefficient and even dangerous, but they shouldn't be allowed to profit from the deaths they've caused." She shook his head. "I don't like this sort of chaos but there are too many forces working towards it to stop. Chaos is a beast: a great raging thing that resists control and leaves bodies in its wake but, wherever it goes, it clears a path. In eintend to prod that beast where I can, and I intend to follow the path it leads straight to the halls of power, to supplant the people who occupy them now." He swirled his wine. "Well, that's the dream, anyhow, or I could just end up another body on a battlefield." He shrugged. "I may seem clever to some, silver-tongued, but I don't write my own legend. I am smart," he agreed, "but not as smart as you may think. Still, a little goad to the Perrench, and they will do much of the work for me. It's about time this place changed."
Juulet grinned, giggled and then leaned in to the point where she almost lied on the table. She was uncomfortably close to Ciro, all so she could inspect his eyes - no, just one eye with her unusual purple ones. “Fuck, it's nicer than the black-highs to hear that from one of you fancy yaniis. And I can't even see an ounce of bullshit too.” she bit her lip and held back some more childish giggles before slowly retreating back like a serpent returning into its hole.
Both her elbows rested on the wooden surface before her and her palms both supported her chin. “I agree. The world could do with a little Stresian cleaning. Have them all go boom.” then, a frown. An obnoxious 'But' popped out of her. “Here's the problem - they're all so fucking strong and surrounded by strong people with other strong people wanting to continue their strongman strong endeavour. Basically, if it was that simple to kill 'em, it'd be done. Loooooong ago. Or, maybe someone did, and shit didn't change and we think we can do better, much like the previous fuckos did.”
Still, despite this drop in energy, she did not move from her posture and her giddiness remaind. “But that's until I showed up. But I'm now left to wonder why you give a shit about me? Surely it's because I inspire a ton of confidence. Or that the world truly cares about us.”
Ciro smiled easily. "It's because you're strong. Simple as." He shrugged. "Whatever else we might disagree on - and I suspect it's a lot - I think we both have this same desire. I'm putting out feelers," he admitted. "For an order of the willing. Their time atop the world grows short, like sand ticking through an hourglass. Perhaps we are merely repeating the mistakes of those who came before, but I believe that we are better, more learned, and more moral than they. When I have more, we shall make our play."
In the meantime, if she stuffed her hands into her pockets for any reason, Xiuyang may have found a note: "One shows the hunter that she is not prey and turns his eyes to other prey. Thus, he is pacified. Thus, he is her tool." It was in handwriting that she would have recognized as Ciro Volta's. It disintegrated a couple of seconds after being read, having been enchanted to recognize her fingertips and hers alone.
“That's a good reason.” remarked Juulet. “Good enough for me to know that you know it's in nobody's best interest to fuck me.” she crossed her arms, pushed her knee against the table's edge and leaned back on her chair, causing it to balance itself on only two legs. “I'll think about it - getting you onto the table. Our table.” she smiled sweetly. “You likely deduced by now that I'm not the grand authority of Constantian Yasoi lands.” she mumbled the rest. “Not one bit.”
Ciro raised a glass in toast. "You may have deduced that I am not the grand authority of Revidia. Nonetheless, I believe we both have something to offer. I'll be in touch."
Later in the party, a few dances down, Leon could finally excuse himself from the admirers. They were satisfied with meeting Leon Solaire for this long, there was no need to stay any longer. He took a bow, made some empty promises to see them again that may or may not be fulfilled, and walked away.
With the new found freedom, Leon assessed the party goers then made an unexpected move. He saw that the 'mad avatar' he had heard so much about was now sitting alone and moved toward her table with intent. A spare rose always came in handy as he produced one from some hidden compartment of his fancy dress. Then, with a flourish of his hand, the red bloom of the flower changed to reflect the girl's eye colour.
"Juulet, I presume." Leon presented the purple flower as a gift with his typical smile lining his face. "I have heard a lot about you, some truths and some lies I'm sure. Would you mind if I take a seat?"
Juulet was three champagnes in by the time Ciro had made his departure and Leon made his appearance. Once again, she had found herself eyeing the Tarlonese group, but there was always something holding her back - something internal. Was it truly right for her to even fraternize a little bit with the enemy? The thought needed not to linger as the living embodiment of radiance made his appearance, seeking an audience with the Avatar herself.
Her hand rose up, middle and ring fingers spread as to let the lord of all bards pose it between them. The Yasoi's first instinct was to smell it, pause, and then sniff again as if she was admiring a fine wine. It caused her eyebrows to cock before she dropped the flower by her empty glass. Her response to his query was a simple, nonchalant gesture toward the seat opposite of her. “Free party.”
With the Sun King before her, she canted her head while re-filling her glass - this time with red wine that she imposed upon Leon as well. “Here comes the sun,” she hummed until the pouring was complete. “Du du du du.” Then, back to sagging into her seat, glass raised and her increased intoxication becoming apparent by her reddened cheeks and other telltale signs that didn't involve slurred words or complete incoherence - yet. “So, is it for some sort of angle you wanna pitch, or do we have some sort of beef I probably forgot about?”
Leon accepted the glass. It was unusual for the performer to be this sober so long into the night, he took a whiff of the strong wine and then made a show of taking a sizeable swig. His company was slipping into intoxication, it would be rude not to make the effort to join her.
Leon chuckled in amusement at her question. "You do seem a sought after woman. I'm sure with enough people looking for something from you it would be hard to keep track of it all. Would you really struggle to remember if I was friend or foe?" The performer hung on that question for a moment then sighed and continued in a more casual tone. "Truthfully, the answer isn't either of those but simple curiosity. As opposed to making assumptions on the work of gossip, I wanted to meet you in person. I am well aware that reputations have a habit of exceeding their subject after all."
Juulet narrowed her eyes on the living ray of sunshine before her, studying him and, quite noticeably, sniffed the air as he began to speak. Did she find anything? The scrunching of her nose suggested something, but what? “Probably not,” she answered off-handedly to his query. “I feel you would make it known if we were either of those. Known to the whole world, and then some.” and with that, she guzzled down her bitter drink only to serve herself immediately after.
“What you heard is probably true.” she swirled her cup in her hand in a manner that the previous Yanii did so frequently and then stiffed the vintage's aroma. It made her gag a little. “Anyway. You've met me. Congrats.” she tapped the back of the hand holding the glass. “What now? Wanna do a collaboration magic trick where we make someone disappear?” she smirked as the edge of the glass met her lips for more collected sips this time.
Leon quickly realised he would not be able to keep pace with the girl in terms of drinking quantity, but made some effort so she didn't look out of place. He then proceeded to study her as well, taking in the full picture of this monstrous mad avatar. It didn't match up with the idea he had in his head.
"Even if I were to assume all of it was true, I don't see you living up to your reputation. I don't see the Juulet I heard about in front of me but a girl whos a little too fond of wine. Which is hardly a crime in my book." He took another sip. "Would you like to dance?"
“There's a kids' saying they bash into just about every civilization with any sort of literature.” Juulet pushed her knee against the edge of the table, prompting her to balance her chair with only too legs. “Don't judge a book by its cover. But hey,” she pointed her half-full glass right at the superstar. “At least you're not a total cunt about it, then I'd have to show you my table of contents.” she chuckled.
But her smile did not linger, not after Leon's next proposition. “Dance?” a brow was raised as she shifted her purple eyes between the sun-man himself and the open yard area where musicians kept playing. “Are you serious?” she wiggled her nub to emphasize what she meant. “I can almost guarantee I can't do any of your Yanii dancing. And I've just about had it here of being clowned on.”
"Do you think yourself unable to dance?" Leon replied with a raised eyebrow. "I danced with a grandma who had the same condition as you. She didn't have your physique nor any grasp of magic to speak of, and yet she danced." He finished his first glass but held off on pouring a second before he got his answer. "It was a little clumsy," he admitted "but you won't be. You forget that we are mages; we need not follow what gravity dictates. We can dance in the sky, I will help you if you haven't mastered it yet."
Leon got up from his chair and extended an inviting hand. "Oh, and forget about Yanii dances. I want to know how you dance, not see you flounder at imitation."
Juulet responded snappily to the first question. “No.” Her posture didn't change but her voice came with a hint of defensiveness that was hard to deny. But then Leon's insistence and suggestion that she lacked competence in something brought her to the offensive quickly. “And I know how to fly. I know you do - I saw what you did with your last dance partner.” at first her voice was coarse, almost venomous. But as she shifted the spotlight to him - as Leon seemed to like it - she let a shit-eating grin take root on her visage. “Beautiful lights, I'll admit. Bit much on the 'Murder your dance partner' scale, however. What happened there?” she tilted her head as if waiting for an answer.
She did, in fact, take his hand. The rise was a clumsy one with her idle hand seizing her crutch but failing to properly pressing the tip onto the grass below. This cause her to 'stumble' onto him. “Hoohoo ...! Almost fell there.” if she didn't look to intoxicated before, she definitely did now. “How about we relive a dance like that? With all the lights and the explosions, hmm?” she barely straightened herself and leaned into him some more.
Only Juulet, who was looking for Leon's reaction, would notice what the performer did in response to her comments. His hand froze up only a little when she took it and his smile streched subtly as he leaned onto a more artificial visage. Internally his stomach sank and his heart raced as he was confronted with his actions in Mano e Mano, its was like a cold knife plunged into his gut. But a seasoned performer was nothing if not practiced, externally the effect could barely be seen. But Juulet would notice.
Leon was snapped out of the trance by Juulet falling onto him. He caught the girl and helped her to regain her balance on him with a nervous chuckle. "Yes, a healthy intake of wine isn't the best for balance I've heard." Leon joked. "I'll be blunt. I don't wish to fight you. Although I'd be happy to oblige if you are simply looking to put on a show. The lights and explosions, they're usually just for the audience after all." Without channeling dark, he had no chance of growing to his full power tonight. A day's sun could not accomodate a full charge from nothing. But that wasn't the reason he declined her initial offer. His head was clearer now than when he had fought Ariadne; he had no reason to fight.
Leon began to grow weightless. "Shall we?"
Juulet frowned. “Oh.” repeating pats to his chest filled the silence afterwards as she absently looked at her surroundings. But I kinda love lights and explosions. More than most audiences.” she pouted, lips pushed out and her expression that of a whiny child trying to get what she wanted. But with her immaturity also came swings as fast as the lights she so admired. “Oh ho ho ho, then if the audience doesn't matter ...” she pushed herself off him - nothing violent or aggressive - and seemed about ready to fall given Leon's ascent, but she seemed to be weightless too, but acted like she was stumbling on an unseen surface below her foot. “Let's give this a spin. A swirling whirly spin.”
Tugging on a thin chain on her belt, she whipped out the pocketwatch she had seized during the auction. The ticking was subtle but noticeable to anyone who focused on it. And the energy that oozed from it ... It wasn't the dark magic the Sun King had grown accustomed to, but it was as worldwarping as the VOID-stuff. With a simple click and the exercise of Juulet's immense power, everything froze.
Except for Leon, the one exempt from the time pressure just like the caster.
The Yasoi appeared right before him, one hand on his hip and the other on his shoulder. “Show me a Yanii dance.” she uttered like a curious child. She was still drunk. “Now that all the fuckos in the world can't point and laugh. Show me something new!~”
Leon had to take a while to process what just happened to him. He hadn't been in time stop before and it caused the performer a bit of panic before awe took its place. "I had something different in mind to keep the eyes of us. But this works just as well I suppose." He responded by placing both hand on her hips into a dancing position.
Leon smiled back at his dance partner, one that didn't flash his teeth like before. "I'll be happy show you how the best of the Yanii dance. It will take some improvisation, but that just means it will be like nothing you've seen before."
Sonic magic was a wonderful thing. Leon originally learned that branch of Kinetic to provide backing track to his performances. But now, in a place absent of time, it could provide a serviceable song to dance to. The first song was slow with notes drawn out to provide a dream-like quality as the two floated up just above the other dancers. Leon took the lead on the first dance with an abundance of flowing turns and swirl to make full use of the weightlessness.
Legs were not necessary in the air, and so the phantom limb Juulet had been feeling for far longer than she would ever admit actually felt normal this time around. If only she could enjoy flight and dancing together a bit more, it would do wonder to her temperament. Now here she was, dancing to the rhythm of a man floating just a tad higher than her to beat her height. She had half a mind to comment on it, but the other won out just to bask in the moment.
Tick tock
Twirls, a lot of twirls. Both on her good leg and the non-existing one. “Heehee! Don't throw me now.” she wailed while being lifted up during a crescendo point in the song. And, when a peak was reached again, she was the one to 'lift' her partner in a appropriately improv-like fashion. “Unless it's toward Ypti's moon!”
Tick tock
Then things became spicier - less in a tension in the air sense, and more so the music that played. Something more akin to Torragon, or even the Virang. The dance less of a game of roles and more so two forces matching each other constantly, while keeping the role of the woman and the man distinct. The same flower he had given her when they met ended up in her mouth as they entered a more flamenco-like rhythm. Her purple gaze locked to his constantly sought to emit provocation, with only a twinge of the rumored madness to be found deep in them.
Tick tock
“Do you like it?” Juulet asked, oh so close to him, flower lowered briefly. “Me as the only person left in the world? Would it be better or worse than complete isolation? What would you do if you stranded here, lost in time?”
The whole time, as much as she seemed enthralled by the sounds and movements, Juulet was taking note of every little detail regarding the state of their environment and the pocketwatch that kept on ticking. This was the test run. And a successful one, given Leon wasn't obliterated by temporal pressure. Yet.
"What an excellent idea!" Toward the end of the first song, Leon tossed Juulet up toward the moon and let her float down gently back to his arms. It was a pinnacle moment of beauty in their lunar waltz.
Then, taking Leon by suprise, the music picked up. He locked eyes with Juulet and smiled, dropping his own sonic magics which clashed with the fiery tune. It didn't take long for him to pick up on the dance, he had done it before. But it was clear as day to Leon that, despite leading, he wasn't the better of the two in this tango. "I get the impression you've done this before." He remarked in a tone to match her provacotive eyes.
A bully, a bitch, a monster, these were the things Leon had heard about Juulet. But now that she had isolated him from any outside help, while he was barely at 50% power, he felt strangely at ease. Swept up in the fantasy of it all, she was just a girl who wished to dance under the pale light of the moon. Even if her latter questions were strange, the performer didn't pick up on any ill intent.
Leon leaned in even closer to Juulet, he ignored the first two questions. "Nothing is worse than being alone. But it doesn't hurt that the company is enjoyable, when she lets herself be." He answered genuinely, ignorant to the mad avatar's intentions.
Juulet nodded energetically at his remark while keeping her lips tightly shut in a big smile. She danced and she hopped and she even threatened a closeness that was far too damning from a girl that supposedly looked down on Yaniis.
“I'm flattered. A little bit.” a girlish giggle escaped her. One could even call it innocent. Her eyes met his. “And now you're so close. Oh no. My little heart.” she leaned in until her lips were by his ear. “Babump, babump, babump~” she whispered, although the music that surrounded them had since become the very same sounds she was emulating. “I'm sooooo nervous!”
Tick tick tick tock
She retreated back, head canted as she flashed him a cheeky smile and held onto him still. “Heeheeeheeeheeee~” cackled the mad Yasoi as her hand reached up to cup Leon's cheek. “You're still here! And they're still not moving! It worked!”
“It wooooooooorked~”
The fantasy of their realm between time shattered in Leon's mind when he heard that laugh. Only now was it dawning on him that the state of time stop may not be a stable and safe place to be. He caught the rose that fell from her mouth in the cackling.
"What you do mean it worked?" He asked dreading an answer he felt he already knew.
“Don't worry about it.” Juulet chirped, punctuating that dreadful nothing-response with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Good dancing, Mister Sun.” she gave his cheek a couple of strokes before slowly detaching herself of Leon's embrace. “It was great. Worth it. Very relaxing. And I'm glad you're feeling well.”
The Yasoi's foot gently landed onto the green soil below, and after a stretch she reached for the glass she filled once more only to raise it to her dance partner. “Here's to hoping the next artist can dance as well as you.” she shot a complicit look at the performer before chugging the good stuff. When she exhaled, time suddenly resumed its flow and the ticking stopped.
Leon's heart sank. The distinct feeling that his life had just been gambled with had dawned on him. He had thought himself immune, or at the very least, he would be able to notice if it was happening. The mad avatar's dismissals weren't helping, in fact, it encouraged the twists in his stomach. His footing was uneasy as he walked over to the same table, poured himself a full glass, and downed it with an unsteady hand. Only then did his shaking dull to a controllable level. It faded and faded until, at least outwardly, Leon Solaire returned.
Leon looked down to the rose and pondered on it for a while. "You know, some say the rose is the most beautiful flower in the world. But the way we present it is often deceitful." Leon's tone was far more somber and genuine than what he was like at the start of their exchange. He waved his hand over the stem and revealed that he had conjured thorns onto the flower. "Many first time rose gardeners will find themselves pricked by the bush and wonder why they bothered growing them in the first place. I even saw a man take an axe to a young rose bush in anger once, such was his pain after falling face first into it... But any experienced gardener would tell you that the flower's bloom is worth the pain it took to grow them."
"The more I think about it, the more I realize that people are the same. Anger, fear, and hate, these feelings are unavoidable in an imperfect world. In trying to forge a better one, these things can be a powerful tool forward but can also cause harm where we don't intend." Leon looked back up to Juulet and locked eyes with her. "I hope that, whatever you are trying to achieve, it brings more beauty into this world than the pain you cause. Because there will always come a day when you need to justify yourself."
Leon let out a hollow chuckle. "Its just something I've been musing on since that fight. If there was something I wanted from you, it was perhaps hoping that my words could help you. But I'm not so sure."
"Take the rose, I meant it as a gift after all." He tossed it over. "In spite of everything, I had fun for a time." Then he left Juulet to herself. He couldn't see fit to call her a monster. There was a person under all of that, even if he could only see it for a fleeting moment.
Juulet giggled in pure giddiness. She had what she needed. Before long, she disappeared without a trace.
With the new found freedom, Leon assessed the party goers then made an unexpected move. He saw that the 'mad avatar' he had heard so much about was now sitting alone and moved toward her table with intent. A spare rose always came in handy as he produced one from some hidden compartment of his fancy dress. Then, with a flourish of his hand, the red bloom of the flower changed to reflect the girl's eye colour.
"Juulet, I presume." Leon presented the purple flower as a gift with his typical smile lining his face. "I have heard a lot about you, some truths and some lies I'm sure. Would you mind if I take a seat?"
Juulet was three champagnes in by the time Ciro had made his departure and Leon made his appearance. Once again, she had found herself eyeing the Tarlonese group, but there was always something holding her back - something internal. Was it truly right for her to even fraternize a little bit with the enemy? The thought needed not to linger as the living embodiment of radiance made his appearance, seeking an audience with the Avatar herself.
Her hand rose up, middle and ring fingers spread as to let the lord of all bards pose it between them. The Yasoi's first instinct was to smell it, pause, and then sniff again as if she was admiring a fine wine. It caused her eyebrows to cock before she dropped the flower by her empty glass. Her response to his query was a simple, nonchalant gesture toward the seat opposite of her. “Free party.”
With the Sun King before her, she canted her head while re-filling her glass - this time with red wine that she imposed upon Leon as well. “Here comes the sun,” she hummed until the pouring was complete. “Du du du du.” Then, back to sagging into her seat, glass raised and her increased intoxication becoming apparent by her reddened cheeks and other telltale signs that didn't involve slurred words or complete incoherence - yet. “So, is it for some sort of angle you wanna pitch, or do we have some sort of beef I probably forgot about?”
Leon accepted the glass. It was unusual for the performer to be this sober so long into the night, he took a whiff of the strong wine and then made a show of taking a sizeable swig. His company was slipping into intoxication, it would be rude not to make the effort to join her.
Leon chuckled in amusement at her question. "You do seem a sought after woman. I'm sure with enough people looking for something from you it would be hard to keep track of it all. Would you really struggle to remember if I was friend or foe?" The performer hung on that question for a moment then sighed and continued in a more casual tone. "Truthfully, the answer isn't either of those but simple curiosity. As opposed to making assumptions on the work of gossip, I wanted to meet you in person. I am well aware that reputations have a habit of exceeding their subject after all."
Juulet narrowed her eyes on the living ray of sunshine before her, studying him and, quite noticeably, sniffed the air as he began to speak. Did she find anything? The scrunching of her nose suggested something, but what? “Probably not,” she answered off-handedly to his query. “I feel you would make it known if we were either of those. Known to the whole world, and then some.” and with that, she guzzled down her bitter drink only to serve herself immediately after.
“What you heard is probably true.” she swirled her cup in her hand in a manner that the previous Yanii did so frequently and then stiffed the vintage's aroma. It made her gag a little. “Anyway. You've met me. Congrats.” she tapped the back of the hand holding the glass. “What now? Wanna do a collaboration magic trick where we make someone disappear?” she smirked as the edge of the glass met her lips for more collected sips this time.
Leon quickly realised he would not be able to keep pace with the girl in terms of drinking quantity, but made some effort so she didn't look out of place. He then proceeded to study her as well, taking in the full picture of this monstrous mad avatar. It didn't match up with the idea he had in his head.
"Even if I were to assume all of it was true, I don't see you living up to your reputation. I don't see the Juulet I heard about in front of me but a girl whos a little too fond of wine. Which is hardly a crime in my book." He took another sip. "Would you like to dance?"
“There's a kids' saying they bash into just about every civilization with any sort of literature.” Juulet pushed her knee against the edge of the table, prompting her to balance her chair with only too legs. “Don't judge a book by its cover. But hey,” she pointed her half-full glass right at the superstar. “At least you're not a total cunt about it, then I'd have to show you my table of contents.” she chuckled.
But her smile did not linger, not after Leon's next proposition. “Dance?” a brow was raised as she shifted her purple eyes between the sun-man himself and the open yard area where musicians kept playing. “Are you serious?” she wiggled her nub to emphasize what she meant. “I can almost guarantee I can't do any of your Yanii dancing. And I've just about had it here of being clowned on.”
"Do you think yourself unable to dance?" Leon replied with a raised eyebrow. "I danced with a grandma who had the same condition as you. She didn't have your physique nor any grasp of magic to speak of, and yet she danced." He finished his first glass but held off on pouring a second before he got his answer. "It was a little clumsy," he admitted "but you won't be. You forget that we are mages; we need not follow what gravity dictates. We can dance in the sky, I will help you if you haven't mastered it yet."
Leon got up from his chair and extended an inviting hand. "Oh, and forget about Yanii dances. I want to know how you dance, not see you flounder at imitation."
Juulet responded snappily to the first question. “No.” Her posture didn't change but her voice came with a hint of defensiveness that was hard to deny. But then Leon's insistence and suggestion that she lacked competence in something brought her to the offensive quickly. “And I know how to fly. I know you do - I saw what you did with your last dance partner.” at first her voice was coarse, almost venomous. But as she shifted the spotlight to him - as Leon seemed to like it - she let a shit-eating grin take root on her visage. “Beautiful lights, I'll admit. Bit much on the 'Murder your dance partner' scale, however. What happened there?” she tilted her head as if waiting for an answer.
She did, in fact, take his hand. The rise was a clumsy one with her idle hand seizing her crutch but failing to properly pressing the tip onto the grass below. This cause her to 'stumble' onto him. “Hoohoo ...! Almost fell there.” if she didn't look to intoxicated before, she definitely did now. “How about we relive a dance like that? With all the lights and the explosions, hmm?” she barely straightened herself and leaned into him some more.
Only Juulet, who was looking for Leon's reaction, would notice what the performer did in response to her comments. His hand froze up only a little when she took it and his smile streched subtly as he leaned onto a more artificial visage. Internally his stomach sank and his heart raced as he was confronted with his actions in Mano e Mano, its was like a cold knife plunged into his gut. But a seasoned performer was nothing if not practiced, externally the effect could barely be seen. But Juulet would notice.
Leon was snapped out of the trance by Juulet falling onto him. He caught the girl and helped her to regain her balance on him with a nervous chuckle. "Yes, a healthy intake of wine isn't the best for balance I've heard." Leon joked. "I'll be blunt. I don't wish to fight you. Although I'd be happy to oblige if you are simply looking to put on a show. The lights and explosions, they're usually just for the audience after all." Without channeling dark, he had no chance of growing to his full power tonight. A day's sun could not accomodate a full charge from nothing. But that wasn't the reason he declined her initial offer. His head was clearer now than when he had fought Ariadne; he had no reason to fight.
Leon began to grow weightless. "Shall we?"
Juulet frowned. “Oh.” repeating pats to his chest filled the silence afterwards as she absently looked at her surroundings. But I kinda love lights and explosions. More than most audiences.” she pouted, lips pushed out and her expression that of a whiny child trying to get what she wanted. But with her immaturity also came swings as fast as the lights she so admired. “Oh ho ho ho, then if the audience doesn't matter ...” she pushed herself off him - nothing violent or aggressive - and seemed about ready to fall given Leon's ascent, but she seemed to be weightless too, but acted like she was stumbling on an unseen surface below her foot. “Let's give this a spin. A swirling whirly spin.”
Tugging on a thin chain on her belt, she whipped out the pocketwatch she had seized during the auction. The ticking was subtle but noticeable to anyone who focused on it. And the energy that oozed from it ... It wasn't the dark magic the Sun King had grown accustomed to, but it was as worldwarping as the VOID-stuff. With a simple click and the exercise of Juulet's immense power, everything froze.
Except for Leon, the one exempt from the time pressure just like the caster.
The Yasoi appeared right before him, one hand on his hip and the other on his shoulder. “Show me a Yanii dance.” she uttered like a curious child. She was still drunk. “Now that all the fuckos in the world can't point and laugh. Show me something new!~”
Leon had to take a while to process what just happened to him. He hadn't been in time stop before and it caused the performer a bit of panic before awe took its place. "I had something different in mind to keep the eyes of us. But this works just as well I suppose." He responded by placing both hand on her hips into a dancing position.
Leon smiled back at his dance partner, one that didn't flash his teeth like before. "I'll be happy show you how the best of the Yanii dance. It will take some improvisation, but that just means it will be like nothing you've seen before."
Sonic magic was a wonderful thing. Leon originally learned that branch of Kinetic to provide backing track to his performances. But now, in a place absent of time, it could provide a serviceable song to dance to. The first song was slow with notes drawn out to provide a dream-like quality as the two floated up just above the other dancers. Leon took the lead on the first dance with an abundance of flowing turns and swirl to make full use of the weightlessness.
Legs were not necessary in the air, and so the phantom limb Juulet had been feeling for far longer than she would ever admit actually felt normal this time around. If only she could enjoy flight and dancing together a bit more, it would do wonder to her temperament. Now here she was, dancing to the rhythm of a man floating just a tad higher than her to beat her height. She had half a mind to comment on it, but the other won out just to bask in the moment.
Tick tock
Twirls, a lot of twirls. Both on her good leg and the non-existing one. “Heehee! Don't throw me now.” she wailed while being lifted up during a crescendo point in the song. And, when a peak was reached again, she was the one to 'lift' her partner in a appropriately improv-like fashion. “Unless it's toward Ypti's moon!”
Tick tock
Then things became spicier - less in a tension in the air sense, and more so the music that played. Something more akin to Torragon, or even the Virang. The dance less of a game of roles and more so two forces matching each other constantly, while keeping the role of the woman and the man distinct. The same flower he had given her when they met ended up in her mouth as they entered a more flamenco-like rhythm. Her purple gaze locked to his constantly sought to emit provocation, with only a twinge of the rumored madness to be found deep in them.
Tick tock
“Do you like it?” Juulet asked, oh so close to him, flower lowered briefly. “Me as the only person left in the world? Would it be better or worse than complete isolation? What would you do if you stranded here, lost in time?”
The whole time, as much as she seemed enthralled by the sounds and movements, Juulet was taking note of every little detail regarding the state of their environment and the pocketwatch that kept on ticking. This was the test run. And a successful one, given Leon wasn't obliterated by temporal pressure. Yet.
"What an excellent idea!" Toward the end of the first song, Leon tossed Juulet up toward the moon and let her float down gently back to his arms. It was a pinnacle moment of beauty in their lunar waltz.
Then, taking Leon by suprise, the music picked up. He locked eyes with Juulet and smiled, dropping his own sonic magics which clashed with the fiery tune. It didn't take long for him to pick up on the dance, he had done it before. But it was clear as day to Leon that, despite leading, he wasn't the better of the two in this tango. "I get the impression you've done this before." He remarked in a tone to match her provacotive eyes.
A bully, a bitch, a monster, these were the things Leon had heard about Juulet. But now that she had isolated him from any outside help, while he was barely at 50% power, he felt strangely at ease. Swept up in the fantasy of it all, she was just a girl who wished to dance under the pale light of the moon. Even if her latter questions were strange, the performer didn't pick up on any ill intent.
Leon leaned in even closer to Juulet, he ignored the first two questions. "Nothing is worse than being alone. But it doesn't hurt that the company is enjoyable, when she lets herself be." He answered genuinely, ignorant to the mad avatar's intentions.
Juulet nodded energetically at his remark while keeping her lips tightly shut in a big smile. She danced and she hopped and she even threatened a closeness that was far too damning from a girl that supposedly looked down on Yaniis.
“I'm flattered. A little bit.” a girlish giggle escaped her. One could even call it innocent. Her eyes met his. “And now you're so close. Oh no. My little heart.” she leaned in until her lips were by his ear. “Babump, babump, babump~” she whispered, although the music that surrounded them had since become the very same sounds she was emulating. “I'm sooooo nervous!”
Tick tick tick tock
She retreated back, head canted as she flashed him a cheeky smile and held onto him still. “Heeheeeheeeheeee~” cackled the mad Yasoi as her hand reached up to cup Leon's cheek. “You're still here! And they're still not moving! It worked!”
“It wooooooooorked~”
The fantasy of their realm between time shattered in Leon's mind when he heard that laugh. Only now was it dawning on him that the state of time stop may not be a stable and safe place to be. He caught the rose that fell from her mouth in the cackling.
"What you do mean it worked?" He asked dreading an answer he felt he already knew.
“Don't worry about it.” Juulet chirped, punctuating that dreadful nothing-response with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Good dancing, Mister Sun.” she gave his cheek a couple of strokes before slowly detaching herself of Leon's embrace. “It was great. Worth it. Very relaxing. And I'm glad you're feeling well.”
The Yasoi's foot gently landed onto the green soil below, and after a stretch she reached for the glass she filled once more only to raise it to her dance partner. “Here's to hoping the next artist can dance as well as you.” she shot a complicit look at the performer before chugging the good stuff. When she exhaled, time suddenly resumed its flow and the ticking stopped.
Leon's heart sank. The distinct feeling that his life had just been gambled with had dawned on him. He had thought himself immune, or at the very least, he would be able to notice if it was happening. The mad avatar's dismissals weren't helping, in fact, it encouraged the twists in his stomach. His footing was uneasy as he walked over to the same table, poured himself a full glass, and downed it with an unsteady hand. Only then did his shaking dull to a controllable level. It faded and faded until, at least outwardly, Leon Solaire returned.
Leon looked down to the rose and pondered on it for a while. "You know, some say the rose is the most beautiful flower in the world. But the way we present it is often deceitful." Leon's tone was far more somber and genuine than what he was like at the start of their exchange. He waved his hand over the stem and revealed that he had conjured thorns onto the flower. "Many first time rose gardeners will find themselves pricked by the bush and wonder why they bothered growing them in the first place. I even saw a man take an axe to a young rose bush in anger once, such was his pain after falling face first into it... But any experienced gardener would tell you that the flower's bloom is worth the pain it took to grow them."
"The more I think about it, the more I realize that people are the same. Anger, fear, and hate, these feelings are unavoidable in an imperfect world. In trying to forge a better one, these things can be a powerful tool forward but can also cause harm where we don't intend." Leon looked back up to Juulet and locked eyes with her. "I hope that, whatever you are trying to achieve, it brings more beauty into this world than the pain you cause. Because there will always come a day when you need to justify yourself."
Leon let out a hollow chuckle. "Its just something I've been musing on since that fight. If there was something I wanted from you, it was perhaps hoping that my words could help you. But I'm not so sure."
"Take the rose, I meant it as a gift after all." He tossed it over. "In spite of everything, I had fun for a time." Then he left Juulet to herself. He couldn't see fit to call her a monster. There was a person under all of that, even if he could only see it for a fleeting moment.
Juulet giggled in pure giddiness. She had what she needed. Before long, she disappeared without a trace.
A final wave goodbye to Leon punctuated Juulet’s presence in the soirée. She left behind a coin in appreciation and took with her the flower she had been compared to, placing it over her ear with the thorns untrimmed. In the blink of an eye, the Mad Avatar vanished from the party, re-appearing in the middle of the city with new ambitions in mind.
Her next target, the little blasphemer artist, had left in advance to conduct an act of protest Juulet was completely indifferent toward. There was a much more pressing issue at hand, being the one where she, the one chosen to be the first to welcome Vyshta into the realm of mortals, was humiliated for the amusement of a few pathetic humans. The pale scientist was dealt with, and now she unknowingly went to bash yet another bloodchild. She stalked him as he prepared, making maximum use of her pocket watch to never miss a beat in Tku's pathing.
It was after he had gathered his things and made his way to his destination that she made her presence known. By the canal, Tku heard a melodious hum echo all around. Within the mild fog that came from the nearby sea and bled into the running canal emerged Juulet with the clanging of her crutches becoming louder and louder as her silhouette gained in size and detail at the very direction Tku was going.
“Better be careful.” a familiar voice called out. “It’s dangerous to go alone at night.”
Oh how the night was just perfect for protest. The very air was tense with the call for change and Tku felt himself swept away by it. How many others were making their disillusion know? All brought to by a consistent effort it felt to change the school from a beacon of Shune to a political fortress of some.
But for Tku, the politics mattered little. It mattered that they did it at all. Whether Perrench or Revidian, Tku heart riled at what had been done. And even if it was not to mean much, art is the medium his discontent will manifest.
He had brought his golem for this event, trusting it to carry the heavier materials. Everything was going well, his plans were to not be dissuaded. The air hummed.
The air is humming?
The crate was set down as the fog came in. He sensed through the mist for matter. Just what was coming for him? Revolutionist? Century? Or some other force.
Instead the worst came for him tonight. A figure of Vyshta, one who seemed to be cloaked in Eshiran tonight.
His heart raced, "Juulet?" he called out, hoping it not to be true.
“That's Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan to you, painter.”
The Avatar's features became clearer as she trudged through the fog with a regular, one-legged gait. Her purple eyes were the first to shine through the shrouds of dark and fog, glaring right at the devout binder. “And you have a debt owed to the Avatar herself. How will you do so, little painter? Hmmm?”
There she was, now fully visible and in the light of a nearby lantern. Her face had a scowl plastered upon it with her cheek twitching after she finished her inquiry.
Tku gulped, he knew that this was a thing that could happen. He truthfully hoped the reckoning wouldn't be so swift. At least have this night to do what he wanted. He was aware he could not run. Nor could he fight someone like her. Still, Tku found himself tongue tied. Unwilling to just pay her off.
That is what he thought, at least. The scowl on her face, the twitching set off alarms in him like a cornered animal. "What could I provide Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan," Tku didn't dare to make eye contact with the Tyrant.
Even as fear took hold though, he did not regret making the paintings.
Juulet canted her head. “How about all you've got?” she proposed. A step closer was taken, leaving only a gap of a few meters between them, but she didn't move beyond it. “I remember you fattening up on a few things.”
All, I've got? It hurt. He hadn't even been able to bond properly with any of the items nor use them once.
He ordered his golem to set the crate in front of her. "Why? What do you get out of taking from me?" Tku knew he shouldn't ask but it was out of spite and curiosity. If he was going to be left with nothing, then maybe he could be left with something.
Juulet blinked. “I get your stuff.” she answered plainly, looking at the young man as if he was a complete buffoon. “Seriously, is it that hard to get I require recompense and having nice things is great?” she opened her arms in an exaggerated shrug, crutches kept tight between her armpits.
Her attention then went to the crate delivered by the golem. With a flick of kinetic magic, the box was opened but her curiosity strayed from its contents. “Whoa, it moves on its own.” she remarked before kneeling her one leg to inspect the rocky critter. “Where the fuck did you get something like this? Which prize is it?!”
Tku shook his head, he was immensely disappointed. Her whole reasoning is that of a child and a noble. 'Just because' was used by those with a sense of entitlement. Still, Tku answered, giving up on any idea of understanding. "You can find them in An Zenui, this one came from a crate." His voice had now steadied. Fear still existed but it no longer held him as it did before.
“An Zenui?” Juulet perked up with eyes oozing of childlike curiosity. “What's that?” then her attention returned to the golem as she inspected it thoroughly. Once she was satisfied, her focus returned to the crate and its contexts. “And what do you have on you?” she inquired, eyes still on the stuff sprawled before her, but Tku could sense her frisk him with the gift.
Her curiosity was met by an answer, "It is a city in the deserts of Callanast." Tku couldn't get further before he felt violated by the gift. He has 3 magical items on him, a pin on his collar and 2 tube like items in his art bag. Lastly, was a magical egg. Tku wasn't new to this, to be sure, but it never felt well. He set his bag down next to the crate and tossed the pin on it.
"I could paint it for you as I tell you about it if you want," Tku offered. He had nothing left to loose. Maybe he could satiate the child with goodies of the mind.
Juulet hopped a couple of steps to check the rest of the goods. First to be scrutinized was the egg. “... Why do you have an egg on you?” she shook her head and tossed it over Tku's head. Surely it had secrets, but she wasn't one for bad surprises. Next was the pin, “Oooohhhhh.” she placed it on her revealing top, just above her right breast. “Don't I just look cute?” she winked before directing her attention to the tubes.
One was a banana which left her as perplexed as the egg. “Eggs and bananas. Are you, like, a Jamboi or something?” she regarded him like he was the biggest idiot in the world, and then got to the brush. “However, this I know.” and with a little bit of chemical magic and binding she had a little bit of pain coat the tip. “Stay still, and yeah tell me about it.” she stood up, approached Tku and was very much about to draw on his face.
His things were being ransacked but Tku kept still. Lest he incur a chaotic moment from her. From the egg to the banana he kept his calm. Not in an uncaring matter, no, he did care. Just not in a visceral display. Simply muting his color to the shades appropriate for such a danger. He slowed the egg with some kinetic, fearing what happens if it splats. Will the streets become an Angel?
Painting on each other was no oddity. Dozens of times has him and his fellow students been bored and sought after a different canvas. And if it was just Juulet and not Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan, he would if made a joke about not messing up him makeup. But right now, with that brush? He hoped that Ipte-Zept cursed her hand so that she could never make anything.
"Very well," Tku closed whatever eye on the side she wanted to. He still needed to be a proper canvas no?
"What to say of An Zenui? his eye dashed back and forth as he was deciding. "Ah! I know. On first glance one can hardly tell it from the rest of desert. But nestled so gently into the canyon walls a city, the City of An Zenui." Tku started his tale. "Short people with large ears call this place home. They call themselves the Cazenax," he broke out of his story voice, "Wonderful folk, truly." He then continued. "Oh how colorful they are. Vibrant stalls at the Bazaar where they would trade goods within their own city and nomadic outlanders that roamed the desert. You could find almost anything there for the right price." He paused to try and sense what she was painting.
Juulet got to work, and painted some clown makeup for Tku in earnest. Shit bit her tongue in deep focus while he told the tale of An Zenui to the antagonistic force that plagued him. “Uh-huh.” she didn't utter a word until her masterpiece was finished, and boy was it something. One could tell Juulet was no artist, but Tku did, in fact, look like a clown after she was done.
“Okay, basically the little powerful shits.” the Mad Avatar backed up to admire her work while twirling the paintbrush in her right hand. “What about these?” she nudged her head toward the golem. “Anything bigger? They're, like, giga-cool. I'd LOVE to adopt one!” a sinister grin took form on her face. “But if there are some made elsewhere ...”
A clown, how inspired godess, Could have been a little inventive but a jester Tku was for her. And even if every fiber to his meager being wanted to erase the paint, instead he just commented, "Seems you grasped something else they do. They paint and dye their skin all sorts of colors."
Shifting his framework from his story now to her golem, he felt an urge to offer trying to make a bigger on for her. But was that really correct? She was by far a bully who had the cruelty to rival a child's imagination.
He wanted to keep his new toy. Something that could let him grow and develop. Learning of something like this could shift his priorities for life.
"I don't know if they come any larger I'm afraid so. Though, this was called miniature for what it is worth." He resolved himself to not making that proposition of making another one. Not for her.
Juulet stopped. Just full-on stopped.
Her intense curiosity and vivid smiles had gone, turning into a frown of mild disgust. The brush was flung away to the side, just barely avoiding the canal. Whatever drove her seemed to drain after all of a sudden as her movements became more sluggish. “It's one thing to have people fight back real hard, it's another to have them submit completely and be too nice.” she glared as she gestured for the crate's contents to be taken away. “Both piss me off. How can you be such a fucking victim?! EH?!” suddenly, she was right at Tku's face, eyes wide and hands cupping both his cheeks. “You'd let me just bleed you dry. Is that some sort of pussy-ass statement about the world? Fuckin' hack artists, fuck fuck fuck!”
The Avatar's hands seemed just about ready to crush his skull before she just relented. Tku was pushed back a few meters and Juulet was left to pant for a few seconds. “Take your garbage and get out of my sight.” she uttered, looking somewhat defeated. “No fuckin' fun, y-” her eyes shifted to the right as he figure froze completely. A booming silence suddenly reigned supreme.
Her next target, the little blasphemer artist, had left in advance to conduct an act of protest Juulet was completely indifferent toward. There was a much more pressing issue at hand, being the one where she, the one chosen to be the first to welcome Vyshta into the realm of mortals, was humiliated for the amusement of a few pathetic humans. The pale scientist was dealt with, and now she unknowingly went to bash yet another bloodchild. She stalked him as he prepared, making maximum use of her pocket watch to never miss a beat in Tku's pathing.
It was after he had gathered his things and made his way to his destination that she made her presence known. By the canal, Tku heard a melodious hum echo all around. Within the mild fog that came from the nearby sea and bled into the running canal emerged Juulet with the clanging of her crutches becoming louder and louder as her silhouette gained in size and detail at the very direction Tku was going.
“Better be careful.” a familiar voice called out. “It’s dangerous to go alone at night.”
Oh how the night was just perfect for protest. The very air was tense with the call for change and Tku felt himself swept away by it. How many others were making their disillusion know? All brought to by a consistent effort it felt to change the school from a beacon of Shune to a political fortress of some.
But for Tku, the politics mattered little. It mattered that they did it at all. Whether Perrench or Revidian, Tku heart riled at what had been done. And even if it was not to mean much, art is the medium his discontent will manifest.
He had brought his golem for this event, trusting it to carry the heavier materials. Everything was going well, his plans were to not be dissuaded. The air hummed.
The air is humming?
The crate was set down as the fog came in. He sensed through the mist for matter. Just what was coming for him? Revolutionist? Century? Or some other force.
Instead the worst came for him tonight. A figure of Vyshta, one who seemed to be cloaked in Eshiran tonight.
His heart raced, "Juulet?" he called out, hoping it not to be true.
“That's Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan to you, painter.”
The Avatar's features became clearer as she trudged through the fog with a regular, one-legged gait. Her purple eyes were the first to shine through the shrouds of dark and fog, glaring right at the devout binder. “And you have a debt owed to the Avatar herself. How will you do so, little painter? Hmmm?”
There she was, now fully visible and in the light of a nearby lantern. Her face had a scowl plastered upon it with her cheek twitching after she finished her inquiry.
Tku gulped, he knew that this was a thing that could happen. He truthfully hoped the reckoning wouldn't be so swift. At least have this night to do what he wanted. He was aware he could not run. Nor could he fight someone like her. Still, Tku found himself tongue tied. Unwilling to just pay her off.
That is what he thought, at least. The scowl on her face, the twitching set off alarms in him like a cornered animal. "What could I provide Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan," Tku didn't dare to make eye contact with the Tyrant.
Even as fear took hold though, he did not regret making the paintings.
Juulet canted her head. “How about all you've got?” she proposed. A step closer was taken, leaving only a gap of a few meters between them, but she didn't move beyond it. “I remember you fattening up on a few things.”
All, I've got? It hurt. He hadn't even been able to bond properly with any of the items nor use them once.
He ordered his golem to set the crate in front of her. "Why? What do you get out of taking from me?" Tku knew he shouldn't ask but it was out of spite and curiosity. If he was going to be left with nothing, then maybe he could be left with something.
Juulet blinked. “I get your stuff.” she answered plainly, looking at the young man as if he was a complete buffoon. “Seriously, is it that hard to get I require recompense and having nice things is great?” she opened her arms in an exaggerated shrug, crutches kept tight between her armpits.
Her attention then went to the crate delivered by the golem. With a flick of kinetic magic, the box was opened but her curiosity strayed from its contents. “Whoa, it moves on its own.” she remarked before kneeling her one leg to inspect the rocky critter. “Where the fuck did you get something like this? Which prize is it?!”
Tku shook his head, he was immensely disappointed. Her whole reasoning is that of a child and a noble. 'Just because' was used by those with a sense of entitlement. Still, Tku answered, giving up on any idea of understanding. "You can find them in An Zenui, this one came from a crate." His voice had now steadied. Fear still existed but it no longer held him as it did before.
“An Zenui?” Juulet perked up with eyes oozing of childlike curiosity. “What's that?” then her attention returned to the golem as she inspected it thoroughly. Once she was satisfied, her focus returned to the crate and its contexts. “And what do you have on you?” she inquired, eyes still on the stuff sprawled before her, but Tku could sense her frisk him with the gift.
Her curiosity was met by an answer, "It is a city in the deserts of Callanast." Tku couldn't get further before he felt violated by the gift. He has 3 magical items on him, a pin on his collar and 2 tube like items in his art bag. Lastly, was a magical egg. Tku wasn't new to this, to be sure, but it never felt well. He set his bag down next to the crate and tossed the pin on it.
"I could paint it for you as I tell you about it if you want," Tku offered. He had nothing left to loose. Maybe he could satiate the child with goodies of the mind.
Juulet hopped a couple of steps to check the rest of the goods. First to be scrutinized was the egg. “... Why do you have an egg on you?” she shook her head and tossed it over Tku's head. Surely it had secrets, but she wasn't one for bad surprises. Next was the pin, “Oooohhhhh.” she placed it on her revealing top, just above her right breast. “Don't I just look cute?” she winked before directing her attention to the tubes.
One was a banana which left her as perplexed as the egg. “Eggs and bananas. Are you, like, a Jamboi or something?” she regarded him like he was the biggest idiot in the world, and then got to the brush. “However, this I know.” and with a little bit of chemical magic and binding she had a little bit of pain coat the tip. “Stay still, and yeah tell me about it.” she stood up, approached Tku and was very much about to draw on his face.
His things were being ransacked but Tku kept still. Lest he incur a chaotic moment from her. From the egg to the banana he kept his calm. Not in an uncaring matter, no, he did care. Just not in a visceral display. Simply muting his color to the shades appropriate for such a danger. He slowed the egg with some kinetic, fearing what happens if it splats. Will the streets become an Angel?
Painting on each other was no oddity. Dozens of times has him and his fellow students been bored and sought after a different canvas. And if it was just Juulet and not Lady Juulet'oli'muustii'zan, he would if made a joke about not messing up him makeup. But right now, with that brush? He hoped that Ipte-Zept cursed her hand so that she could never make anything.
"Very well," Tku closed whatever eye on the side she wanted to. He still needed to be a proper canvas no?
"What to say of An Zenui? his eye dashed back and forth as he was deciding. "Ah! I know. On first glance one can hardly tell it from the rest of desert. But nestled so gently into the canyon walls a city, the City of An Zenui." Tku started his tale. "Short people with large ears call this place home. They call themselves the Cazenax," he broke out of his story voice, "Wonderful folk, truly." He then continued. "Oh how colorful they are. Vibrant stalls at the Bazaar where they would trade goods within their own city and nomadic outlanders that roamed the desert. You could find almost anything there for the right price." He paused to try and sense what she was painting.
Juulet got to work, and painted some clown makeup for Tku in earnest. Shit bit her tongue in deep focus while he told the tale of An Zenui to the antagonistic force that plagued him. “Uh-huh.” she didn't utter a word until her masterpiece was finished, and boy was it something. One could tell Juulet was no artist, but Tku did, in fact, look like a clown after she was done.
“Okay, basically the little powerful shits.” the Mad Avatar backed up to admire her work while twirling the paintbrush in her right hand. “What about these?” she nudged her head toward the golem. “Anything bigger? They're, like, giga-cool. I'd LOVE to adopt one!” a sinister grin took form on her face. “But if there are some made elsewhere ...”
A clown, how inspired godess, Could have been a little inventive but a jester Tku was for her. And even if every fiber to his meager being wanted to erase the paint, instead he just commented, "Seems you grasped something else they do. They paint and dye their skin all sorts of colors."
Shifting his framework from his story now to her golem, he felt an urge to offer trying to make a bigger on for her. But was that really correct? She was by far a bully who had the cruelty to rival a child's imagination.
He wanted to keep his new toy. Something that could let him grow and develop. Learning of something like this could shift his priorities for life.
"I don't know if they come any larger I'm afraid so. Though, this was called miniature for what it is worth." He resolved himself to not making that proposition of making another one. Not for her.
Juulet stopped. Just full-on stopped.
Her intense curiosity and vivid smiles had gone, turning into a frown of mild disgust. The brush was flung away to the side, just barely avoiding the canal. Whatever drove her seemed to drain after all of a sudden as her movements became more sluggish. “It's one thing to have people fight back real hard, it's another to have them submit completely and be too nice.” she glared as she gestured for the crate's contents to be taken away. “Both piss me off. How can you be such a fucking victim?! EH?!” suddenly, she was right at Tku's face, eyes wide and hands cupping both his cheeks. “You'd let me just bleed you dry. Is that some sort of pussy-ass statement about the world? Fuckin' hack artists, fuck fuck fuck!”
The Avatar's hands seemed just about ready to crush his skull before she just relented. Tku was pushed back a few meters and Juulet was left to pant for a few seconds. “Take your garbage and get out of my sight.” she uttered, looking somewhat defeated. “No fuckin' fun, y-” her eyes shifted to the right as he figure froze completely. A booming silence suddenly reigned supreme.
Bleed me? A hack?! The world can bleed me to the last drop but to call me a hack for not giving into your petty desires!? No, Tku was not a hack. He was neither a pacifist. He simply wanted to live to tell another story another day.
He stared back at her, accepting that he was going be crushed. It happened to all of the peasants who spoke up to the powerful. But another story would be added to the pile of corpses. And one day, one day, it will be too heavy for the elite to ignore.
Then he was shoved. Away from his would be killer. What was this about? Is it too gruesome for her? Tku questioned, expecting a fireball. But no. He was told to leave.
A trick? Sudden bout of conscience? Why!? He could barely contain his anger. He couldn't comprehend her but how he wanted to know. How can I reach you? He was left unsatisfied. Terribly empty from the experience, Tku recalled his brush and banana.
They clattered weakly towards him and Tku was left questioning whether had he regressed to neophyte levels in telekinesis from lack of practice. No, something was weakening him: fear, nerves, Juulet, or an outside force. The cause was held in mystery.
Could this be the judgement Cal spoke about at the soiree? Tku gulped at his realization. He hurried his departure from the scene. Once he turned the corner, he tested his magic again and again.
"I need to see this." There was a drive to watch whatever judgment the other Yasoi might bring to her.
Near immediately after, a pair of cloaked figures turned a corner and stalked towards Juulet. That weakness: she knew it. It was not unlike the pulse of a scagbiist, but it was something different. She knew it too. The figures grew larger, in both perception as the approached and in the danger that they represented. Rapidly, Juulet's attachment to the Gift was evaporating. In mere moments, she'd have nothing. "Judgement time," one of them snarled in a female voice.
“Oh fuck no.”
Immediately she tried to draw as much as she could. She wanted to just obliterated the shadows at the corner of her eye, but it wasn't enough. The gift was fleeting and fading away almost instantly. Her heart raced and sweat quickly accumulated on her forehead. This was panic - something she hadn't felt in a while.
Then the ticking stop just as a pulse of temporal energy reverberated out of her being, what was supposed to be a getaway spell turned into ... Well, a dud from what they could see. “Spax fuck cock wiiz cunt!” the Mad Avatar clenched her malfunctioning pocket watch, realizing just how bad her predicament was.
“Judgement?” Juulet let out a maddened snicker filled with contempt. “ME?! I don't need big lights and explosion to fuck you all up.” she pushed forward with her crutches, but already she felt the weight of having no magic. Her movements were clumsy and her balance mediocre. It was already a challenge for this skinny, one-legged Yasoi to close in without her metaphysical crutches too. Still, she was a tenacious one and readied one of her aids to smack away an assailant.
The female assailant leapt back nimbly. "Be careful!" she warned with mock concern. "You might trip and fall like that!" Her male counterpart swept Juulet's leg out from beneath her and she hit the ground hard. "See?" She shook her head. "Silly goose." Her partner took up the thread, though. "Shouldn't have gone walking alone out at night," he concluded, shaking his head. "I've heard people have been getting... robbed." A line of wickedly grinning white teeth split the lower half of his shadowed face.
The female figure stalked forward to deliver a vicious kick into the yasoi's ribs before she could rise.
“Kiss my a-” down went the Avatar in a loud thud. She hit her bony cheek and pointed ear against the gravel too. Missing a crutch that flung a big father than the other, she tried to push herself up with her idle hand, only to receive a kick to keep her back down. Juulet coughed and rolled to lie on her stomach. “F-fuck ...” she slammed her fist to the ground, envisioning eruptions of magma and plasma to just swallow these insects. And yet, all she got was a very sore fist and wrist.
The Yasoi twisted, barely supported by her elbows, to regard the female. “What's this, hmm? You want my shit? I got loads of shit. In my ass. Dig deep and you'll get it all.” she taunted and laughed maniacally with pained breaths coming and going.
She ate another vicious kick for it. "Wrong answer, cunt." The female figure stepped about her lightly, emanating dark glee. "Oh, don't get me wrong. We'll take your shit too." A grin near-identical to the male's split her face. "But we're here for something altogether nobler." She glanced her partner's way.
"I would say 'run, little goddess, run'.." His smirk was oh, so punchable. "but I might have to change that to 'hop, runt, hop." What an annoying laughter would come from him. "To think you thought yourself to be a goddess. Isn't being shamed like this, oh so painful for you?" He hoped Tku wouldn't interfere too much. "Sorry, little Reshta... you won't hop out of this one."
"You see, Juulet'oily'musty'zan, we're different from you." the female shook her head. "It doesn't matter how much you beg or fight back or anything else. You'll have the exact same chance you gave my brother. In..." she pulled out a pocketwatch and glanced at it. "four minutes and ten seconds, " She darted forward to grab Juulet by the neck. "You'll be dead. Full stop."
Juulet's head rang after the kick. She barely heard the miserable words from the male figure. Nothing other than his voice being far too familiar. “You're ...” she sniffled the blood leaking out of her crooked nose. “the little fucko I taught a lesson to.” she raised her pointer finger toward Fiske. “Need a woman to do the work for you, don'tcha?” more taunting laughs before she heeded the words of Marceline.
And heeded them she most certainly did in spite of her head still spinning. “Brother, eh? You're saying I killed a Yanii?” she pivoted slightly to try and rest on her one knee and support her weight with her stump. “Probably was a fucker 'cause I don't remember some lowlife boy-huusoi being crushed. Must've been a sorry excuse of a mage.” she licked the blood that spilled onto her lips.
Suddenly, she leapt for Fiske with all the strength in her leg and arms. It wasn't much, but she tried with all her vicious and magicless might.
Fiske jumped back ever so gracefully. "You did teach me a lesson." His grin turned rather sour. "You have taught me that people like you shouldn't exist. The strong should elevate the weak, not beat them up for looking at them the wrong way." The boy did not find any true amusement with this. This thing needs to be gone.. forever. "I hope you've prayed to 'yourself', Miss goddess."
The moment that Juulet failed, she ended up on the ground. Marceline leapt atop her in a full wrestler's mount and hammered her face with a punch. She winced as a knuckle gave way. "His name was Manfred Hohenfelter and he was a good person," she declared coldly. "Not a perfect one, but good. He loved and was loved and he did nothing to you. You ambushed him in Mandelein. remember? While you were at it, you killed killed Qasem Laghmani and one of your own." Marci's eyes lit up darkly. "Ismet'ych'lahiin'dichora. What would your new suunei Tyrel'yrash'dichora think of that, I wonder?"
She continued to hold the yasoi down and she pulled out her watch again. "Tick, tick, tick," she mocked, and she seemed to be enjoying this more than her partner. "Really, that box lasts for fifteen minutes, but keeping a piece of shit like you around for any longer than... She took a moment to check. "Three minutes - twenty seems a crime." She tucked it into her cloak and batted another hand aimed for her face away. "Why did you do it?" she demanded. "Why kill him? Why was it any of your fucking business?"
Juulet unleashed a wheezing cough after the bodyslam she took, although it was short lived with the punch that followed. Once again, she was left dazed and barely hearing the start. But she heard what mattered. First came chuckles mixed with groans of pain that bordered agony. She spat some blood to the side, as she wasn't strong enough to spit up to Marceline at this point.
“I gotta-” again, the Avatar coughed. “underline the irony of wanting answers after focusing down my head. I speak from experience-” she shifted about to find some degree of comfort in her innately uncomfortable situation. “that's the worst way to go about it.” a shit eating grin and stare were right right at her tormentor.
But before more punishment could befall her, she raised a shaking hand before speaking. “Mandelein, I remember that however.” she mused for a moment, with bloody coughs coming in more frequently intervals. “A town full of rabid dogs. A bad idea. Handled by bad elements. And made worse by ...” then, it hit her. Mouth agape, she took her sweet time to cut to the chase. “Was he that handsome Yanii boy with the moustache?” she wagged her finger almost provocatively. “Yeaaaaahhhh. He definitely caused quite the stirring! Hoho! Got a good many poor Huusoi peasants killed in the process. Heh.”
"Well, I don't need you to last long anyway," Marci replied to the yasoi's first bit of mockery, but then she kept speaking. "Well then, if you've got nothing more of worth to say, I guess we don't need our remaining..." She twisted to regard her partner quickly. "How much time we got?" She flipped her cloak open and, all at once, stepped back, withdrawing a pair of pistols.
Fiske grabbed the small watch out of his pocket "About 2 minutes, so whatever you want to say make it quick." He wanted to see this person get what they deserve.
Juulet spat out a couple of teeth that had gotten loose and eventually fell. “You people give up so fast, like that limpdick I just let go.” she groaned, looking exasperated. Although her rapidly beating heart betrayed the cool facade she tried to erect. “You wanna know why? Why'd he died?” Juulet let her head fall onto the pavement. “Well, if you really gotta know, I've no clue.”
The Mad Avatar closed her eye and took a deep but pained breath. “The problem was gonna solve itself on that night. That Yani-” she opened her eyes to look Marci in the eyes. Her purple gaze was softer, and she seemed to genuinely consider something. “Your brother. I did not kill him. In fact, I didn't kill shit - not even one of the dogs - at that time.” her eyes darted to the ticking mechanisms nearby. “Leave it to Yaniis to pin their own petty crimes on Yasoi. It ain't enough you fucks ruined us to the core, eh? You gotta just -” she clenched her teeth and regarded Marci with pure hate. But that moment was fleeting and faded away into the same, challenging stare she had been keeping this whole time. “Not just any Yanii too, a chick.” she snorted. “Typical.”
Marceline scowled. "Bullshit," she replied, swallowing her own momentary alarm, her momentary doubts. "You're just a bitter, nasty cunt to the very end, pulling the yasoi card on top of it." Her eyes narrowed. "The only girl there was my sister in law, Manfred's betrothed. Try again."
"Minute-five" her partner quietly warned her. Of course, they had three times that amount, in truth, but they would leave nothing to chance.
“Wait.” Juulet flailed her arms. “Wait wait wait wait wait. You're a complete fuckwad if you stop here.” she warned, her eyes focused and solemn. “I'm not fucking you here. That chick -”
And then, in this dire moment as she felt the pain of the rose over her ear dig into her flesh some more that she connected the dots. Juulet began to laugh. Laugh in total hysterics. “HAHAHAHA! Right under our fucking noses, too. We're both fucking idiots, aren't we?” droplets of blood sprayed all over as she spoke obnoxiously loud and laughed. “That fucking crown. Oh how she was willing to DIE for it.” the laughs died down, turning into something of pure contempt mixed with desperation. “All that power, I kinda get it, though.”
A light sigh of relief escaped the Mad Avatar. “That wicked whore and her wicked crown killed all three of them. One way or another, she killed them. And we all let it continue. Spreading even to that feedblemind in a desperate attempt to kill me in the finals.” she coughed, a lot. “Fuck, it feels good to finally figure that shit out. Cathartic, even.”
Marceline stepped back. There was conviction in those words, and madness. Juulet had... thirty-five seconds to live. Her soon-to-be killer checked her pistols and readied them, but her mind was racing. Was this just some attempt at a parting shot? Leaving some poison behind after she was gone or was there another play here?
Marci's pulse began to quicken as well. She checked her guns again. She swallowed. She'd suspected Dory, herself, at first, before Jocasta had corroborated the presence of a Mad Avatar. She'd... then Marci noticed a bit hole in Juulet's accusation. "If she was so attached to it, why lend it out?" she demanded. "Huh?" Then, however, Fiske shook his head. They needed to adhere to their five minute timer. "Actually, don't answer that. Just apologize to Fiske for what you did before. Go out with a shred of decency." She cocked the guns. Their synchronized watches ticked down: 10... 9... 8...
“Woah woah, wait ...” Juulet raised her hands in surrender, and then to cover her face and chest from an imminent bullet. She looked scared.
3…
"Not an ounce of sincerity for a life where you brought nothing but darkness to everything you touched."
2…
"See you in hell," she snorted, goddess."
“Please don't ...”
“PLEASE DON'T!”
Would she really be sorry or is this just a 'I want to live even though a grand demon would blush from my wrongdoings?' kind of deal. He should feel satisfied. He should feel accomplished, feel good... Then why did it feel so horrid. Like they were putting down a child for acting up. The world will be better without these kinds of tyrants...
But he needed one more answer from her, but seemed he was too late. "Wait!-" His words might have fallen onto deaf ears.
Marceline was about to fire. She was already starting to squeeze the triggers. She twisted momentarily and shot Fiske an incredulous look. Our schedule... she thought. Our ironclad plan! She stopped herself just on time. The guns didn't fire, even though five minutes had passed. Her heart hammered and she waited for him to speak. There stood Juulet, at their mercy, given a sudden reprieve.
Juulet, awaiting death with her hands over her head, remained frozen and silent. Only the canal's waters and the faint hum of the magic disruptor could be heard.
"Twenty seconds. What do you know about that crown?" He held the box tightly. "Tell me everything you know about it within that time and I will show mercy." He nodded towards Marceline. "Keep them aimed at her, just in case."
Juulet sniffled, clearly shaken. She mumbled something, but it was far too quiet.
Marceline eyes widened. This was not part of the plan. This and... mercy!? He wouldn't be so stupid, she knew. It was likely the mercy of a quick death. Still, they were off-script. They could find out about the stupid crown later. She hesitated, not wanting to make them appear out of sync, not wanting to give Juulet any little victory as she left the world for good. "Fiske..." Then, Juulet mumbled something. She mumbled and there was silence, but for the sound of the waters, rushing with great speed to wherever those waters went.
Fiske listened closers ...
“I'm not gonna tell you any more, jexoff.” there wasn't as much fear or desperation in Juulet's tone.
Fiske sighed. "And here I was going to be merciful." He shrugged. "Marci, do it."
Marceline nodded grimly, leveling her pistols and pulling the triggers…
Click Click
She pulled them again.
Click Click
Her eyes widened in fear.
Juulet lowered her hands. She wasn't smiling, but instead frowning in great disappointment.
“You tried to kill me.” remarked Juulet matter-of-factly. “You tried to kill me.”
Suddenly she was standing on her one leg. Eyes were still on Marci, and then they rolled diagonally upwards toward Fiske's direction.
The next click they heard was of her pocketwatch.
Marceline threw the guns away. Xiuyang had loaded them. Marceline had been there.
"Fiske, run!" she screamed, but then Juulet was there.
"It's me you want!" Marceline shouted. She drew and prepared to unleash a spell of her own. "Fiske, get out of here. Trust me, please!"
The spear, conjured from molten stone, sliced right through Fiske's flank.
“Shoulda held still, it'd hurt less.” growled the beaten up Avatar, now standing on Fiske's right just barely a meter away from him.
She then regarded Marci. “You'll get yours. Fucko.”
The combined efforts of the two assailants was for naught as their desperate attack was syphoned by the spear-turned-ash.
“You should have run.” Juulet canted her head toward Fiske with maddened eyes trained his way.
The pin shattered.
Fiske was compelled to vomit out an obscene amount of blood.
He collapsed to the ground and his eyes rolled back into his head. "Fuck!" Marceline shouted, whirling on the spot. Shunedammit, Fiske! she shouted in her head, why didn't you run!? Why didn't you just trust me on this one!? He convulsed on the ground in a pool of his own blood and, soon, he began coughing up not only blood, but meaty chunks.
She ran to him, already gathering her energies as a binder. She drew as much as she could, preparing to convert it.
“AH AH AH!” Juulet wagged her finger. “Don't you help that little cocksucker.” she warned. “Or I'll rip him to shreds the moment he stands.”
Marci stopped in her tracks, still brimming with energy. "Fuck you," she spat. "I don't care about him anyway. He's just an accomplice. This was all me, bruja, and -" The words almost hurt coming out, but she was the spare. She was disposable. She'd 'wake up' tomorrow as her original self. Fiske was not disposable. "I'm still gonna kick your crippled ass." She flipped up what everyone had taken to be a hood earlier upon quick glance. It wasn't. It was the Souleater's Sombre Sombrero, and it was hungry. "Gimme your power," she growled, "all that Dark shit."
“Tsk tsk.” Juulet smirked. “I saw how you looked at him. You won't fool me, fucko.” heat began to build up around Juulet as well, bracing herself for what was to come. “But YEAH! COME AND GET IT, SHITHEAD!” she opened her arms in a welcoming manner, and definitely over-the-top. “Give it your best shot.”
With that, the great grim hat reached out with its hungry shadow. This climbed up Juulet, consuming the ill-begotten power she'd taken from the VOID. It began to leak from her and flow into Marci. "His loss is... unfortunate," the younger girl allowed, inwardly begging Fiske to forgive her for the callous-sounding words, "But did you really think I wouldn't have a backup plan?"
Eyes of defiance met the shadows. Her power was stolen, and yet the Avatar remained unfazed.
“Nice trick.” she rested her hand on her nape and stretched, prompting a crack. “Thanks for showing it to me.” Then, a similar time-flow manipulation could be felt. But it wasn't restricted by any device this time. “See you in five.”
Marci stopped in her tracks, still brimming with energy. "Fuck you," she spat. "I don't care about him anyway. He's just an accomplice. This was all me, bruja, and -" The words almost hurt coming out, but she was the spare. She was disposable. She'd 'wake up' tomorrow as her original self. Fiske was not disposable. She began to reach for her hat: the trump card she'd kept hidden, just in case. Just long enough: until help can arrive, she counseled herself, trying not to look at Fiske, at what had happened to him. Just long enough. Her hand trembled as she reached. This had to work. It would work.
“Well, five in reverse!” said the past Juulet with no context. And with a new target in her sights, she did not stike immediate at Marceline, but at the item she was going for. That hat, giant and unsightly, was impossible to miss.
Marceline tilted her head at the strange comment, not quite understanding. Then... it dawned on her… Marceline still had the energy drawn for a heal. She dived for Fiske and attempted to do it.
Juulet interfered immediately and she found herself able to do precious little. It was all that she could do to stop the horrible vomiting, at least. However, she had left herself wide open.
The Golem had one command from Tku: Heal the downed people. Its chest opened its chest and a it formed its hands into a heart. A pink beam blasts Fiske to heal him of some of his wounds.
The beam leapt out of nowhere and, for a moment, Marci believed that deliverance had arrived. Instead, it was only Tku's little golem, but never had she been so glad to see it. It meant that, so long as she could occupy the Mad Avatar, Fiske would live.
Juulet's own blood magic sabotaged any attempt to properly restore Fiske. The vomiting stopped, but his shape was still deplorable.
“Ah, so that's what it does.” the Avatar remarked on the golem's abilities, but her attention returned quickly to Marci. “Anyway. It's time I give you what you deserve, little rat.”
Marceline stood and drew once more. Just another minute or two she thought, pulling as hard as she could, reaching out for Jocasta, Yalen... the tethered, anyone!
Once again, she activated her pocket watch. And suddenly she was in front of Marci with a fiery punch directed straight to her gut.
The Tethered had the air literally punched out of her and her abdomen burnt to the third degree. But the Avatar purposefully did not go for a kill shot.
No. An assassination attempt this brazen required something more than a vulgar execution.
She leaned forward, her thin lips right by Marci's ear. “I'm going to kill your fruity little boyfriend. That can't be stopped. But you ...”
Then, silence. “Give it a second.” and soon, almost as if it was a cue, energies very close to Juulet began to stir. Energies all too similar to those felt all over the city in Bloody Victendes. Or during the Melon Derby. Or even during the quarter finals of Mano e Mano. “You really shouldn't insult cripples like you did. Have a bit of empathy.” she grinned maliciously.
Marceline blacked out momentarily on impact but, mercilessly, she came back moments later. The pain in her midsection was... unfathomable and also... less than it should've been. Vaguely, in the lucid parts of her mind, she recognized it as the utter numbness of dead nerves: something she remembered well from her feet and, briefly, ankles, before she'd started treating herself with aberrations.
Juulet spoke and the pain spiked. Marci understood little, but she gritted her teeth and tried to bite back the pain. It radiated up and down from the site of the wound: a burning in her midsection and legs. Just a bit longer, she willed herself. Just a bit. She could die here, because she wouldn't really die. Fiske, however - she needed to stall so that he could be saved: Fiske who should've trusted her, who should've run, who hadn't.
"You... wanna know... a secret?" Marci managed to rasp, barely audible.
“Sure.” Juulet chirped. Marceline was seized and ragdolled with Telekinesis, made to approach the source of the energy that consolidated itself in what was undeniably an aberration. And a big one at that.
Very sight of it caused Juulet to twitch. Her fingers wiggled and stiffened but her grip via the gift remained firm. “Ever seen a tweeker from Hyparii take just a little too much?” she was no longer smiling like a sadist. “Never a pretty sight. But one thing I do know is this: It's a godawful existence from there. I would know.” Marci inched ever closer to the black mass. It beckoned, wanting to be drawn to give her to power she so craved.
Marci managed a smile. She was slipping. She could feel it. Just a bit longer. She resisted drawing. She'll think I'm dead and she'll be gone by tomorrow.
"You're still -" she coughed. "Still." She coughed some more, weakly. Juulet would have to come in closer. A miserable cunt who'll die alone by her twenty-fifth birthday, unloved and unmourned. she thought, but she couldn't actually say it. The worst person I've ever met. She couldn't decide which to say anyhow and, then...
“Too slow.” Juulet tossed the ragged Marceline right into the aberration. “Word of advice - try to wear gloves so you don't rip your skin and hair as easily.”
Marceline did not have the wherewithal to expel the energy she'd drawn. It had been for a last spell, a last trick, to take the bitch out with her but, once again, Juulet had proven herself better. Marci sailed towards the void and the last thing that she saw was darkness growing, filling her vision.
Then, it was nothing - nothing next to the aberration - and, for a moment, it was sweetness: utter bliss and joy. It filled her like midnight honey, invigorating, healing, empowering! For some brief period - the young tethered had no sense of time - she felt as if she could come back this very moment and obliterate Juulet.
But then it began to grow heavy. It became thick, as if she were trying to suck up porridge through a straw. Yet, still, it flowed. It flowed ever faster and there was too much of it. Every tiny bit was a strain and it kept coming: through every orifice, through every pore, and there was more - ever more! Marceline ground her teeth until they cracked. She arched her back and shredded her throat screaming. She curled her fingers and toes until they felt as if they would snap.
That was the last she ever felt of the latter. Her head pounded, her body bloated and cried out in agony as if something was inflating her past bursting point from inside. Her eyes hung heavy as if they might just drop out of their sockets from the sheer weight and pain of them. She was beyond thought at this point and a thing of pure animal terror. Her toes, then her feet, and then on past her ankles and up her shins: that evil line of burning pins and heated needles. She could feel her manas dying. As a tethered, she could feel, in great detail, every single one explode. One by one, her nerves winked out. At first, it was a numbness that she knew, but then it reached her knees and she was in new and terrifying territory.
The darkness kept filling her. She was beyond pain and into mere sensation at this point. Her head was a dull, stupid brick. Her fingers could not uncurl. Up her thighs came the line, past her loins and hips, up her waist. All below became nothing and, paradoxically, she was grateful for the pain she could not feel. Up, still, the line crept, as she crumpled there in pain and darkness: up through her midsection, up to her chest. Then, it leapt to her fingers. It traveled up her arms and she screamed weakly, whimpering. "No more!" she cried weakly, not wholly aware of how she was doing it. "Eshi please no more!" she screamed and sobbed. "I'm sorry! Make it stop! I'm sorry! You can kill him!" - No you can't. - "It wasn't you! You didn't do it! I know nothing!"
Then, there was the brightest flash of light just as the burning reached her shoulders. There was the brightest flash and that was the last she knew.
Elsewhere, phenomenally out of breath, Tku reached the apartments of Vaughn Marbrand out in Mudville. He hammered on the door.
He stared back at her, accepting that he was going be crushed. It happened to all of the peasants who spoke up to the powerful. But another story would be added to the pile of corpses. And one day, one day, it will be too heavy for the elite to ignore.
Then he was shoved. Away from his would be killer. What was this about? Is it too gruesome for her? Tku questioned, expecting a fireball. But no. He was told to leave.
A trick? Sudden bout of conscience? Why!? He could barely contain his anger. He couldn't comprehend her but how he wanted to know. How can I reach you? He was left unsatisfied. Terribly empty from the experience, Tku recalled his brush and banana.
They clattered weakly towards him and Tku was left questioning whether had he regressed to neophyte levels in telekinesis from lack of practice. No, something was weakening him: fear, nerves, Juulet, or an outside force. The cause was held in mystery.
Could this be the judgement Cal spoke about at the soiree? Tku gulped at his realization. He hurried his departure from the scene. Once he turned the corner, he tested his magic again and again.
"I need to see this." There was a drive to watch whatever judgment the other Yasoi might bring to her.
Near immediately after, a pair of cloaked figures turned a corner and stalked towards Juulet. That weakness: she knew it. It was not unlike the pulse of a scagbiist, but it was something different. She knew it too. The figures grew larger, in both perception as the approached and in the danger that they represented. Rapidly, Juulet's attachment to the Gift was evaporating. In mere moments, she'd have nothing. "Judgement time," one of them snarled in a female voice.
“Oh fuck no.”
Immediately she tried to draw as much as she could. She wanted to just obliterated the shadows at the corner of her eye, but it wasn't enough. The gift was fleeting and fading away almost instantly. Her heart raced and sweat quickly accumulated on her forehead. This was panic - something she hadn't felt in a while.
Then the ticking stop just as a pulse of temporal energy reverberated out of her being, what was supposed to be a getaway spell turned into ... Well, a dud from what they could see. “Spax fuck cock wiiz cunt!” the Mad Avatar clenched her malfunctioning pocket watch, realizing just how bad her predicament was.
“Judgement?” Juulet let out a maddened snicker filled with contempt. “ME?! I don't need big lights and explosion to fuck you all up.” she pushed forward with her crutches, but already she felt the weight of having no magic. Her movements were clumsy and her balance mediocre. It was already a challenge for this skinny, one-legged Yasoi to close in without her metaphysical crutches too. Still, she was a tenacious one and readied one of her aids to smack away an assailant.
The female assailant leapt back nimbly. "Be careful!" she warned with mock concern. "You might trip and fall like that!" Her male counterpart swept Juulet's leg out from beneath her and she hit the ground hard. "See?" She shook her head. "Silly goose." Her partner took up the thread, though. "Shouldn't have gone walking alone out at night," he concluded, shaking his head. "I've heard people have been getting... robbed." A line of wickedly grinning white teeth split the lower half of his shadowed face.
The female figure stalked forward to deliver a vicious kick into the yasoi's ribs before she could rise.
“Kiss my a-” down went the Avatar in a loud thud. She hit her bony cheek and pointed ear against the gravel too. Missing a crutch that flung a big father than the other, she tried to push herself up with her idle hand, only to receive a kick to keep her back down. Juulet coughed and rolled to lie on her stomach. “F-fuck ...” she slammed her fist to the ground, envisioning eruptions of magma and plasma to just swallow these insects. And yet, all she got was a very sore fist and wrist.
The Yasoi twisted, barely supported by her elbows, to regard the female. “What's this, hmm? You want my shit? I got loads of shit. In my ass. Dig deep and you'll get it all.” she taunted and laughed maniacally with pained breaths coming and going.
She ate another vicious kick for it. "Wrong answer, cunt." The female figure stepped about her lightly, emanating dark glee. "Oh, don't get me wrong. We'll take your shit too." A grin near-identical to the male's split her face. "But we're here for something altogether nobler." She glanced her partner's way.
"I would say 'run, little goddess, run'.." His smirk was oh, so punchable. "but I might have to change that to 'hop, runt, hop." What an annoying laughter would come from him. "To think you thought yourself to be a goddess. Isn't being shamed like this, oh so painful for you?" He hoped Tku wouldn't interfere too much. "Sorry, little Reshta... you won't hop out of this one."
"You see, Juulet'oily'musty'zan, we're different from you." the female shook her head. "It doesn't matter how much you beg or fight back or anything else. You'll have the exact same chance you gave my brother. In..." she pulled out a pocketwatch and glanced at it. "four minutes and ten seconds, " She darted forward to grab Juulet by the neck. "You'll be dead. Full stop."
Juulet's head rang after the kick. She barely heard the miserable words from the male figure. Nothing other than his voice being far too familiar. “You're ...” she sniffled the blood leaking out of her crooked nose. “the little fucko I taught a lesson to.” she raised her pointer finger toward Fiske. “Need a woman to do the work for you, don'tcha?” more taunting laughs before she heeded the words of Marceline.
And heeded them she most certainly did in spite of her head still spinning. “Brother, eh? You're saying I killed a Yanii?” she pivoted slightly to try and rest on her one knee and support her weight with her stump. “Probably was a fucker 'cause I don't remember some lowlife boy-huusoi being crushed. Must've been a sorry excuse of a mage.” she licked the blood that spilled onto her lips.
Suddenly, she leapt for Fiske with all the strength in her leg and arms. It wasn't much, but she tried with all her vicious and magicless might.
Fiske jumped back ever so gracefully. "You did teach me a lesson." His grin turned rather sour. "You have taught me that people like you shouldn't exist. The strong should elevate the weak, not beat them up for looking at them the wrong way." The boy did not find any true amusement with this. This thing needs to be gone.. forever. "I hope you've prayed to 'yourself', Miss goddess."
The moment that Juulet failed, she ended up on the ground. Marceline leapt atop her in a full wrestler's mount and hammered her face with a punch. She winced as a knuckle gave way. "His name was Manfred Hohenfelter and he was a good person," she declared coldly. "Not a perfect one, but good. He loved and was loved and he did nothing to you. You ambushed him in Mandelein. remember? While you were at it, you killed killed Qasem Laghmani and one of your own." Marci's eyes lit up darkly. "Ismet'ych'lahiin'dichora. What would your new suunei Tyrel'yrash'dichora think of that, I wonder?"
She continued to hold the yasoi down and she pulled out her watch again. "Tick, tick, tick," she mocked, and she seemed to be enjoying this more than her partner. "Really, that box lasts for fifteen minutes, but keeping a piece of shit like you around for any longer than... She took a moment to check. "Three minutes - twenty seems a crime." She tucked it into her cloak and batted another hand aimed for her face away. "Why did you do it?" she demanded. "Why kill him? Why was it any of your fucking business?"
Juulet unleashed a wheezing cough after the bodyslam she took, although it was short lived with the punch that followed. Once again, she was left dazed and barely hearing the start. But she heard what mattered. First came chuckles mixed with groans of pain that bordered agony. She spat some blood to the side, as she wasn't strong enough to spit up to Marceline at this point.
“I gotta-” again, the Avatar coughed. “underline the irony of wanting answers after focusing down my head. I speak from experience-” she shifted about to find some degree of comfort in her innately uncomfortable situation. “that's the worst way to go about it.” a shit eating grin and stare were right right at her tormentor.
But before more punishment could befall her, she raised a shaking hand before speaking. “Mandelein, I remember that however.” she mused for a moment, with bloody coughs coming in more frequently intervals. “A town full of rabid dogs. A bad idea. Handled by bad elements. And made worse by ...” then, it hit her. Mouth agape, she took her sweet time to cut to the chase. “Was he that handsome Yanii boy with the moustache?” she wagged her finger almost provocatively. “Yeaaaaahhhh. He definitely caused quite the stirring! Hoho! Got a good many poor Huusoi peasants killed in the process. Heh.”
"Well, I don't need you to last long anyway," Marci replied to the yasoi's first bit of mockery, but then she kept speaking. "Well then, if you've got nothing more of worth to say, I guess we don't need our remaining..." She twisted to regard her partner quickly. "How much time we got?" She flipped her cloak open and, all at once, stepped back, withdrawing a pair of pistols.
Fiske grabbed the small watch out of his pocket "About 2 minutes, so whatever you want to say make it quick." He wanted to see this person get what they deserve.
Juulet spat out a couple of teeth that had gotten loose and eventually fell. “You people give up so fast, like that limpdick I just let go.” she groaned, looking exasperated. Although her rapidly beating heart betrayed the cool facade she tried to erect. “You wanna know why? Why'd he died?” Juulet let her head fall onto the pavement. “Well, if you really gotta know, I've no clue.”
The Mad Avatar closed her eye and took a deep but pained breath. “The problem was gonna solve itself on that night. That Yani-” she opened her eyes to look Marci in the eyes. Her purple gaze was softer, and she seemed to genuinely consider something. “Your brother. I did not kill him. In fact, I didn't kill shit - not even one of the dogs - at that time.” her eyes darted to the ticking mechanisms nearby. “Leave it to Yaniis to pin their own petty crimes on Yasoi. It ain't enough you fucks ruined us to the core, eh? You gotta just -” she clenched her teeth and regarded Marci with pure hate. But that moment was fleeting and faded away into the same, challenging stare she had been keeping this whole time. “Not just any Yanii too, a chick.” she snorted. “Typical.”
Marceline scowled. "Bullshit," she replied, swallowing her own momentary alarm, her momentary doubts. "You're just a bitter, nasty cunt to the very end, pulling the yasoi card on top of it." Her eyes narrowed. "The only girl there was my sister in law, Manfred's betrothed. Try again."
"Minute-five" her partner quietly warned her. Of course, they had three times that amount, in truth, but they would leave nothing to chance.
“Wait.” Juulet flailed her arms. “Wait wait wait wait wait. You're a complete fuckwad if you stop here.” she warned, her eyes focused and solemn. “I'm not fucking you here. That chick -”
And then, in this dire moment as she felt the pain of the rose over her ear dig into her flesh some more that she connected the dots. Juulet began to laugh. Laugh in total hysterics. “HAHAHAHA! Right under our fucking noses, too. We're both fucking idiots, aren't we?” droplets of blood sprayed all over as she spoke obnoxiously loud and laughed. “That fucking crown. Oh how she was willing to DIE for it.” the laughs died down, turning into something of pure contempt mixed with desperation. “All that power, I kinda get it, though.”
A light sigh of relief escaped the Mad Avatar. “That wicked whore and her wicked crown killed all three of them. One way or another, she killed them. And we all let it continue. Spreading even to that feedblemind in a desperate attempt to kill me in the finals.” she coughed, a lot. “Fuck, it feels good to finally figure that shit out. Cathartic, even.”
Marceline stepped back. There was conviction in those words, and madness. Juulet had... thirty-five seconds to live. Her soon-to-be killer checked her pistols and readied them, but her mind was racing. Was this just some attempt at a parting shot? Leaving some poison behind after she was gone or was there another play here?
Marci's pulse began to quicken as well. She checked her guns again. She swallowed. She'd suspected Dory, herself, at first, before Jocasta had corroborated the presence of a Mad Avatar. She'd... then Marci noticed a bit hole in Juulet's accusation. "If she was so attached to it, why lend it out?" she demanded. "Huh?" Then, however, Fiske shook his head. They needed to adhere to their five minute timer. "Actually, don't answer that. Just apologize to Fiske for what you did before. Go out with a shred of decency." She cocked the guns. Their synchronized watches ticked down: 10... 9... 8...
“Woah woah, wait ...” Juulet raised her hands in surrender, and then to cover her face and chest from an imminent bullet. She looked scared.
3…
"Not an ounce of sincerity for a life where you brought nothing but darkness to everything you touched."
2…
"See you in hell," she snorted, goddess."
“Please don't ...”
ZERO
“PLEASE DON'T!”
Would she really be sorry or is this just a 'I want to live even though a grand demon would blush from my wrongdoings?' kind of deal. He should feel satisfied. He should feel accomplished, feel good... Then why did it feel so horrid. Like they were putting down a child for acting up. The world will be better without these kinds of tyrants...
But he needed one more answer from her, but seemed he was too late. "Wait!-" His words might have fallen onto deaf ears.
Marceline was about to fire. She was already starting to squeeze the triggers. She twisted momentarily and shot Fiske an incredulous look. Our schedule... she thought. Our ironclad plan! She stopped herself just on time. The guns didn't fire, even though five minutes had passed. Her heart hammered and she waited for him to speak. There stood Juulet, at their mercy, given a sudden reprieve.
Juulet, awaiting death with her hands over her head, remained frozen and silent. Only the canal's waters and the faint hum of the magic disruptor could be heard.
"Twenty seconds. What do you know about that crown?" He held the box tightly. "Tell me everything you know about it within that time and I will show mercy." He nodded towards Marceline. "Keep them aimed at her, just in case."
Juulet sniffled, clearly shaken. She mumbled something, but it was far too quiet.
Marceline eyes widened. This was not part of the plan. This and... mercy!? He wouldn't be so stupid, she knew. It was likely the mercy of a quick death. Still, they were off-script. They could find out about the stupid crown later. She hesitated, not wanting to make them appear out of sync, not wanting to give Juulet any little victory as she left the world for good. "Fiske..." Then, Juulet mumbled something. She mumbled and there was silence, but for the sound of the waters, rushing with great speed to wherever those waters went.
Fiske listened closers ...
“I'm not gonna tell you any more, jexoff.” there wasn't as much fear or desperation in Juulet's tone.
Fiske sighed. "And here I was going to be merciful." He shrugged. "Marci, do it."
Marceline nodded grimly, leveling her pistols and pulling the triggers…
Click Click
She pulled them again.
Click Click
Her eyes widened in fear.
Juulet lowered her hands. She wasn't smiling, but instead frowning in great disappointment.
“You tried to kill me.” remarked Juulet matter-of-factly. “You tried to kill me.”
Suddenly she was standing on her one leg. Eyes were still on Marci, and then they rolled diagonally upwards toward Fiske's direction.
The next click they heard was of her pocketwatch.
Marceline threw the guns away. Xiuyang had loaded them. Marceline had been there.
"Fiske, run!" she screamed, but then Juulet was there.
"It's me you want!" Marceline shouted. She drew and prepared to unleash a spell of her own. "Fiske, get out of here. Trust me, please!"
The spear, conjured from molten stone, sliced right through Fiske's flank.
“Shoulda held still, it'd hurt less.” growled the beaten up Avatar, now standing on Fiske's right just barely a meter away from him.
She then regarded Marci. “You'll get yours. Fucko.”
The combined efforts of the two assailants was for naught as their desperate attack was syphoned by the spear-turned-ash.
“You should have run.” Juulet canted her head toward Fiske with maddened eyes trained his way.
The pin shattered.
Fiske was compelled to vomit out an obscene amount of blood.
He collapsed to the ground and his eyes rolled back into his head. "Fuck!" Marceline shouted, whirling on the spot. Shunedammit, Fiske! she shouted in her head, why didn't you run!? Why didn't you just trust me on this one!? He convulsed on the ground in a pool of his own blood and, soon, he began coughing up not only blood, but meaty chunks.
She ran to him, already gathering her energies as a binder. She drew as much as she could, preparing to convert it.
“AH AH AH!” Juulet wagged her finger. “Don't you help that little cocksucker.” she warned. “Or I'll rip him to shreds the moment he stands.”
Marci stopped in her tracks, still brimming with energy. "Fuck you," she spat. "I don't care about him anyway. He's just an accomplice. This was all me, bruja, and -" The words almost hurt coming out, but she was the spare. She was disposable. She'd 'wake up' tomorrow as her original self. Fiske was not disposable. "I'm still gonna kick your crippled ass." She flipped up what everyone had taken to be a hood earlier upon quick glance. It wasn't. It was the Souleater's Sombre Sombrero, and it was hungry. "Gimme your power," she growled, "all that Dark shit."
“Tsk tsk.” Juulet smirked. “I saw how you looked at him. You won't fool me, fucko.” heat began to build up around Juulet as well, bracing herself for what was to come. “But YEAH! COME AND GET IT, SHITHEAD!” she opened her arms in a welcoming manner, and definitely over-the-top. “Give it your best shot.”
With that, the great grim hat reached out with its hungry shadow. This climbed up Juulet, consuming the ill-begotten power she'd taken from the VOID. It began to leak from her and flow into Marci. "His loss is... unfortunate," the younger girl allowed, inwardly begging Fiske to forgive her for the callous-sounding words, "But did you really think I wouldn't have a backup plan?"
Eyes of defiance met the shadows. Her power was stolen, and yet the Avatar remained unfazed.
“Nice trick.” she rested her hand on her nape and stretched, prompting a crack. “Thanks for showing it to me.” Then, a similar time-flow manipulation could be felt. But it wasn't restricted by any device this time. “See you in five.”
Marci stopped in her tracks, still brimming with energy. "Fuck you," she spat. "I don't care about him anyway. He's just an accomplice. This was all me, bruja, and -" The words almost hurt coming out, but she was the spare. She was disposable. She'd 'wake up' tomorrow as her original self. Fiske was not disposable. She began to reach for her hat: the trump card she'd kept hidden, just in case. Just long enough: until help can arrive, she counseled herself, trying not to look at Fiske, at what had happened to him. Just long enough. Her hand trembled as she reached. This had to work. It would work.
“Well, five in reverse!” said the past Juulet with no context. And with a new target in her sights, she did not stike immediate at Marceline, but at the item she was going for. That hat, giant and unsightly, was impossible to miss.
Marceline tilted her head at the strange comment, not quite understanding. Then... it dawned on her… Marceline still had the energy drawn for a heal. She dived for Fiske and attempted to do it.
Juulet interfered immediately and she found herself able to do precious little. It was all that she could do to stop the horrible vomiting, at least. However, she had left herself wide open.
The Golem had one command from Tku: Heal the downed people. Its chest opened its chest and a it formed its hands into a heart. A pink beam blasts Fiske to heal him of some of his wounds.
The beam leapt out of nowhere and, for a moment, Marci believed that deliverance had arrived. Instead, it was only Tku's little golem, but never had she been so glad to see it. It meant that, so long as she could occupy the Mad Avatar, Fiske would live.
Juulet's own blood magic sabotaged any attempt to properly restore Fiske. The vomiting stopped, but his shape was still deplorable.
“Ah, so that's what it does.” the Avatar remarked on the golem's abilities, but her attention returned quickly to Marci. “Anyway. It's time I give you what you deserve, little rat.”
Marceline stood and drew once more. Just another minute or two she thought, pulling as hard as she could, reaching out for Jocasta, Yalen... the tethered, anyone!
Once again, she activated her pocket watch. And suddenly she was in front of Marci with a fiery punch directed straight to her gut.
The Tethered had the air literally punched out of her and her abdomen burnt to the third degree. But the Avatar purposefully did not go for a kill shot.
No. An assassination attempt this brazen required something more than a vulgar execution.
She leaned forward, her thin lips right by Marci's ear. “I'm going to kill your fruity little boyfriend. That can't be stopped. But you ...”
Then, silence. “Give it a second.” and soon, almost as if it was a cue, energies very close to Juulet began to stir. Energies all too similar to those felt all over the city in Bloody Victendes. Or during the Melon Derby. Or even during the quarter finals of Mano e Mano. “You really shouldn't insult cripples like you did. Have a bit of empathy.” she grinned maliciously.
Marceline blacked out momentarily on impact but, mercilessly, she came back moments later. The pain in her midsection was... unfathomable and also... less than it should've been. Vaguely, in the lucid parts of her mind, she recognized it as the utter numbness of dead nerves: something she remembered well from her feet and, briefly, ankles, before she'd started treating herself with aberrations.
Juulet spoke and the pain spiked. Marci understood little, but she gritted her teeth and tried to bite back the pain. It radiated up and down from the site of the wound: a burning in her midsection and legs. Just a bit longer, she willed herself. Just a bit. She could die here, because she wouldn't really die. Fiske, however - she needed to stall so that he could be saved: Fiske who should've trusted her, who should've run, who hadn't.
"You... wanna know... a secret?" Marci managed to rasp, barely audible.
“Sure.” Juulet chirped. Marceline was seized and ragdolled with Telekinesis, made to approach the source of the energy that consolidated itself in what was undeniably an aberration. And a big one at that.
Very sight of it caused Juulet to twitch. Her fingers wiggled and stiffened but her grip via the gift remained firm. “Ever seen a tweeker from Hyparii take just a little too much?” she was no longer smiling like a sadist. “Never a pretty sight. But one thing I do know is this: It's a godawful existence from there. I would know.” Marci inched ever closer to the black mass. It beckoned, wanting to be drawn to give her to power she so craved.
Marci managed a smile. She was slipping. She could feel it. Just a bit longer. She resisted drawing. She'll think I'm dead and she'll be gone by tomorrow.
"You're still -" she coughed. "Still." She coughed some more, weakly. Juulet would have to come in closer. A miserable cunt who'll die alone by her twenty-fifth birthday, unloved and unmourned. she thought, but she couldn't actually say it. The worst person I've ever met. She couldn't decide which to say anyhow and, then...
“Too slow.” Juulet tossed the ragged Marceline right into the aberration. “Word of advice - try to wear gloves so you don't rip your skin and hair as easily.”
Marceline did not have the wherewithal to expel the energy she'd drawn. It had been for a last spell, a last trick, to take the bitch out with her but, once again, Juulet had proven herself better. Marci sailed towards the void and the last thing that she saw was darkness growing, filling her vision.
Then, it was nothing - nothing next to the aberration - and, for a moment, it was sweetness: utter bliss and joy. It filled her like midnight honey, invigorating, healing, empowering! For some brief period - the young tethered had no sense of time - she felt as if she could come back this very moment and obliterate Juulet.
But then it began to grow heavy. It became thick, as if she were trying to suck up porridge through a straw. Yet, still, it flowed. It flowed ever faster and there was too much of it. Every tiny bit was a strain and it kept coming: through every orifice, through every pore, and there was more - ever more! Marceline ground her teeth until they cracked. She arched her back and shredded her throat screaming. She curled her fingers and toes until they felt as if they would snap.
That was the last she ever felt of the latter. Her head pounded, her body bloated and cried out in agony as if something was inflating her past bursting point from inside. Her eyes hung heavy as if they might just drop out of their sockets from the sheer weight and pain of them. She was beyond thought at this point and a thing of pure animal terror. Her toes, then her feet, and then on past her ankles and up her shins: that evil line of burning pins and heated needles. She could feel her manas dying. As a tethered, she could feel, in great detail, every single one explode. One by one, her nerves winked out. At first, it was a numbness that she knew, but then it reached her knees and she was in new and terrifying territory.
The darkness kept filling her. She was beyond pain and into mere sensation at this point. Her head was a dull, stupid brick. Her fingers could not uncurl. Up her thighs came the line, past her loins and hips, up her waist. All below became nothing and, paradoxically, she was grateful for the pain she could not feel. Up, still, the line crept, as she crumpled there in pain and darkness: up through her midsection, up to her chest. Then, it leapt to her fingers. It traveled up her arms and she screamed weakly, whimpering. "No more!" she cried weakly, not wholly aware of how she was doing it. "Eshi please no more!" she screamed and sobbed. "I'm sorry! Make it stop! I'm sorry! You can kill him!" - No you can't. - "It wasn't you! You didn't do it! I know nothing!"
Then, there was the brightest flash of light just as the burning reached her shoulders. There was the brightest flash and that was the last she knew.
Elsewhere, phenomenally out of breath, Tku reached the apartments of Vaughn Marbrand out in Mudville. He hammered on the door.
Tku ran as fast as a horse but it was never enough. He threw out his rule and the ground became slippery, oil pecipitated and instead of trying to move with his feet he slid faster than he could ever run. It was blood magic being enhanced by kinetic and Chemical. Tku couldn't care less if he was reported, all that guided his actions was trying to save their lives. All of them, even Juulet, deserved to live.
It was no less than a bang at Marbrand's door. Tku made a hole in the wall so his voice could travel. "Marbrand! Please come quickly! Juulet and others are fighting and I think only you can stop them!"
The door swung open of its own accord and Vaughn Marbrand was inside. "Juulet's fighting!?" he nearly shouted. "Who!?" He was already moving about rapidly, half-dressed but quickly pulling on all of his regalia. "Tku! Who!?" he demanded.
Air filled his lungs, "Marci and some other man, the gift felt weak there." He produced an answer and then giving the crossroads where he last saw them. "Please sir, I don't want any of them to meet Eshiran yet," Tku pleaded and got out of his master's way.
For a moment, there seemed to be almost... relief coming from the disbarred Zeno. "She pushed too far," he murmured in absent alarm, gathering his final belongings. There were items among them, Tku could tell, that held incomprehensible power. Then, Vaughn Marbrand seemed to recover his focus. "Tku, right!" he said briskly, drawing from space and time, "Thank you for telling me, lad." He clapped the youth on the shoulder. "You stay here and you clean up and stay safe." There was a tight smile. "I'll handle this." Within moments, there was a flash and he disappeared.
Like music to her ears. The pain, the pleas and the inevitable betrayal of loved ones. The torment was so great that it had become a constant Juulet recognized, and had experienced herself. She scoffed at the pathetic sight that was Marceline. “Shouldn't have pulled those triggers, girl.” uttered Juulet, bitterly. Eventually, Marceline was tossed away like an unwanted toy, left to suffer on her own while their mark-turned-executioner twisted to regard Fiske in his physical agony.
The Mad Avatar had claimed Marceline's mind, and she was then going to claim Fiske's life. “I warned you once before to not fuck with me, Yanii.” she landed her singular foot right before him and kneeled. “But you all just needed to have the last word, didn't you? Had you just beaten the shit out of me, I'd get it. I'd hit you back, but I'd get it.” she reached out to prod the young rogue's temple with her finger. “So now I'll take everything. It's only fair, right?”
Heat began to accumulate inside of Fiske. It started like a very bad fever, and only went up from there. It was going to be quick if none intervened.
The witch stood over her defeated opponents, drawing off what was left of the huge aberration and filling herself further. She could not see the disgust behind Volto Argento's mask when he appeared behind her. In fact, she likely could not see him at all, so engrossed in her macabre triumph was she, so shrouded in Ahn-Shune's Enigma was he.
First, she would have seen Volto Giallo - better known as Sorriso - wielding the new scythe he had purchased from the Hegelan he'd bought. First, she might've thought that she had a chance here.
She didn't.
The shadows warped and fell away and Volto Argento peeled himself from them. From across his back, he withdrew, for only the third time in anger, Eien 88. "Didn't your vile 'mother' ever teach you not to play with your food, or perhaps, at least, your brother?" he taunted. Sorriso merely stalked forward, his bristly beard poking out from beneath his mask, his massive grin growing, maniacal giggling already starting up. He twirled the scythe. "Drop him or I boil you alive right here."
One presence she recognized. The other, however, was unfamiliar and far more terrifying the moment she sensed him. Her euthanasia effort was halted as she perked up to acknowledge both interlopers. “If it isn't fatass and his girlfriend. Went to cry to her after the ass kicking I gave you?” she taunted, but remained by Fiske. “Do that and you'll kill him too, fucko.”
Like with Marceline, she manipulated an incapacitated Fiske with the gift, turning him into an improvised human shield. “How do you know any of that? My brother, I can get, but who the fucking fuck told you about my mother, eh?” an increasingly agitated and pissed off Juulet stared both Volti down. “You didn't come here for this nothing here. No way. What do you want this time?”
"COME ON!!!" bellowed Sorriso, accelerating as he rushed for Juulet, utterly ignoring her taunts. He continued to laugh uncontrollably and, in seconds, he was on top of her. Then, he was gone.
Volto Argento tilted his head to the side. "You vastly overestimate the number of fucks I give about some random boy but, on principle, for each person tonight who you kill, I will rip one limb off of you. Understand?"
Sorriso reappeared behind her in a sneak attack. The scythe came straight for the small of her back and sunk in deeply. He pulled it out and blood began spilling from her, but Juulet had let go of her toy and it hadn't cleanly bisected her as it was supposed to have done.
Argento quietly floated the badly wounded boy away and began to heal him.
Fiske was gradually restored to full health, though he remained, momentarily, unconscious.
"Say," taunted Sorriso, "Didn't you 'kill' me last time? What happened, little girl?"
Juulet, having barely dodged Sorriso's quick attack, snarled. “Didn't have enough with dying the first time, did you?” smoke erupted from her nostrils before the watch ticked once more. “I'll turn you to ash this time.” however, the pocketwatch seemed to lost is lustre. Her surprise attack did not execute as well as she had hoped.
It was a literal back and forth of energy swapping, with Juulet eventually redirecting it all into the canal, causing a massive burst of thick steam! Juulet twitched, multiple times. “What. Do. You. Want?”
"You," Argento replied, "Dead." He set Fiske down gently, some ways away from the fighting. "It's rather simple, really." With a gesture, he commanded the steaming Sorriso to step back. He took his underling's place and stalked forward.
“Original.” commented a snarky Juulet. “Not a good omen, bub. Not at all.” and with a stomp on the ground, a surge of adrenaline ran through her. Those crazy, purple eyes intensified and the destruction incarnate she was known for took actual physical shape with matter all around her being shattered and drawn into her.
Argento regarded the girl dispassionately, or perhaps it was just the mask.
A clash of titans erupted, wreaking havoc onto the local area.
"Sorriso, I am not too proud to admit that this petulant child is too strong for me to handle alone. Would you mind offering some help?"
Sorriso strafed to the side and began drawing.
“SUWWISUUU!!! HEWLP MUYYYY!” she made a pouty face. “My deawu gurlfwiend!!!” Juulet snorted. “Bring it, losers!”
Argento said nothing. And with Sorriso, a blast of kinetic energy was hurled Juulet’s way.
The Mad Avatar spun her head, mouth agape and giggles escaping her. It would be insane for someone to take these two on alone. And yet, despite having a perfectly good Fiske, she had almost completely forgotten such a spec existed.
Then, in front of Juulet, appeared a man in black: a presence who she knew well even if she could not see his face for the mask covering it. He held out a hand to stay her wrath. "You are not his true target, sister." Vaughn Marbrand declared. He stepped forward, hands empty, body language relaxed. "I am."
"What happened to no attachments, Nero?" asked Argento calmly, but was he truly calm at this point?
"I love and am loved," the Black Volto replied implacably. "What of you, Argento?" His hands remained open before him, but the energy that began to build was... crushing.
There he was. The brother.
Here in the flesh, and now he could see who she truly was. There was no Ms. Monke. Or Mr. Biggles. Or even their sister. Vaughn Marbrand could see Juulet'oli'muustii'zan.
“I'm BAIT?!” she growled, at both Vaughn and Argento. “Fuck. FUCK!” her head began to pound. This was enough to stop her rampage, leaving her levitating behind Nero with her palm against her forehead.
She shook her head. “Doesn't matter. They want us both dead now.” she drew just as aggressively as her brother, leading to her exploding into a zenith of immense heat that flames were near invisible from their intensity. Her spear, half-complete, was in her hand once more. “Kill 'em or run?”
Nero turned to her for a moment. "He used you as bait," he confirmed. Then he turned back to his enemies and tilted his head. "What do you say, Volto Argento? Kill 'em or run?"
"I say you are a traitor to the Dieci Volti Nascosti!" Argento bellowed, stalking forward. There was a flash nearby. Floating like a ghost, a foot above the ground, was a pale woman in a white dress. She wore a chartreuse mask with a stoic expression.
Volto Nero stopped. "I say you have warped our organization and our once-noble goal." Nero shrugged. "It's a matter of perspective, I suppose." Then…
Volto Argento exploded into a spray of blood, bits of bone, and shreds of skin.
Juulet blinked.
His sword clattered to the ground.
“Wow.” she hit a moment of clarity. “And I thought I was strong.”
"You were never truly my equal, Argento." His mask and clothing stained with blood, he strode forward to pick it up.
Vaughn Marbrand removed his mask and smiled at his little sister. "You will be soon, little plum." He reached over to ruffle her hair fondly. "Maybe stronger."
Disarmed completely, she just ... Didn't move. She wanted to say something, but-
Her wicked eyes captured the form of Sorriso. “Pig fuck.”
Sorriso, frozen in place, unglued himself from the ground. He began to back away, terrified. "You are a traitor, Giallo, and a vile piece of shit," Nero agreed with his sister.
Jocasta's eyes widened, her white dress spattered with blood. "V-Vaughn?" she stammered. "Your mask!"
"Argento..."
She began gathering still more energy. "The Mad Avatar is your sister!?"
She shook her head, disbelieving, and began backing away. Sorriso hurried in her direction.
Juulet glared right at the ghost-like Volti. “Call me that again, cunt.”
"She just murdered Marci and tried to murder Fiske, just like Manfred, just like Qasem, and Ismette, and you... defended her!?" So in shock was she that she utterly ignored Juulet. Instead, her eyes drifted towards the newly-awakened Fiske. She sent two pinches his way: 'Illusions' and 'run'.
The Mad Avatar began to laugh. “This AGAIN?” she shook her head as the vehemence grew. “I didn't kill shit. I WAS going to kill that one.” she nudged her chin toward Fiske. “After he and his cunt girlfriend tried to KILL ME! Morons, I warned them. But they neveeeeeeer listeeeeeen. Ever. So I gotta do this over and over ...” and the rambling went on.
Fiske nodded and began to quickly cast and illusionary self in his stead as he shrouded himself in ahn-shune's enigma and fled. Just to be sure... he made another one that ran through another path.
Vaughn Marbrand stilled. "Certosa, you know me," he remarked. "And you knew him." He gestured in the direction where Argento had been. "You know what a bad man he was."
He gestured next at Juulet. "Juulet, here, is my sister. She was stolen from me as a child. She does not always make the best decisions but... Jocasta, she is not so different from you. All of that pain, all of that power: there was no way she would ever be left alone, so she's hardened, as you have." He shook his head. "Marceline and Fiske attacked her. That's all there is to it. I know Marci means a lot to you, but she tried to kill someone and that someone defended herself." His face became pained. "I'm sorry, kid, really. Heal your foolhardy friend. She yet lives and I won't stand in the way."
Unreadable behind her mask, Jocasta locked eyes with Volto Nero. Did hers dart Juulet's way? It was impossible to tell. Regardless, she began floating her way toward her fallen friend. Nero, meanwhile, laid a comforting hand upon his sister's shoulder. "You cannot stave off death forever." He began to heal her.
Sorriso stood there, chest heaving, glancing between the other parties. Then, after a few moments, they collectively began to notice something. Volto Nero and Volto Giallo faced each other for a moment. The latter nodded. He took off after Fiske.
Jocasta let herself down beside Marceline. "Oh my brave, stupid little sister," she murmured, stroking the girl's hair. "What have you done and what have they done to you?" She tried healing, but there was nothing she could heal. There was a deep aberrative affliction and she had overdrawn terribly. Jocasta rose once more. "There is nothing I can do, Marbrand." She shook her head. "She is a tethered and, now, even with the help of a grey aberration, she won't walk." She shook her head tightly.
There was a lot of talking. Too much of it. But it was from Vaughn - once her rock, now a warm memory that left her cautious. The love was undeniably there, but the feeling of being an imposter, of being Juulet rather than Juliette, was overwhelming. She didn't know whether to be angry or overjoyed, to lash out or hold her tongue. But each time she regarded her saviour and brother, she lit up a little more. The erratic twitching that occasionally took her was gone and the chaotic vigor of her's had eventually faded.
At first she grit her teeth, but eventually she exhaled in light relief. “I won't chase the rats, if you're concerned about that.” she crossed her arms whilst restoring some of the bricks and pavement around her via binding. “In fact, I'll be fucking off. I've everything I need.”
Unconsciously, she found herself drifting ever closer to Vaughn until their elbows met. She had since been restored.
“You can fix the madness.” admitted Juulet, resigned to peace after being on a war path for so long. “If you find someone good enough to exercise her before it creeps in permanently.” she pursed her lips and looked uncharacteristically normal for once. “Seen it, and done it.” she shrugged. “Better be quick, blondie.” but there was always a hint of provocation with Juulet, no matter what, and she couldn't help but smirk.
Jocasta floated there, expressionless behind her mask, but then she took a moment to glance over in the direction of Sorriso, who'd run off after Fiske. "I suppose Fiske must die now, for your sins?" Her voice may have sounded neutral in tone, but it was not. She was judging the man she'd once thought of as a mentor and almost an older brother.
"He needn't die. He need only lose his memories of this incident," Volto Nero declared beatifically. "If you can reach him before Sorriso does, then I am equally happy with that outcome. All of our secrets here, this night, must be preserved and he is currently our critical weakness."
Jocasta regarded him for a moment. She tilted her head to the side and, with a flash, was gone. Brother and sister were left alone, then, in this place of pain and triumph. Quietly, the former reached out with his magics of Blood and Binding and began to rebuild it.
Juulet sighed once they finally had some privacy. “I had an escape plan, you know?” she pouted. “You didn't have to brick another career for me. Fucking hells Vaughn ...”
He punched her playfully on the shoulder. "It's a pastime now, kiddo." He smiled. "Besides, I think I've seen a job opening come up elsewhere."
Juulet giggled, and retaliated with her own. It was two titans playfully nudging, so the shockwaves were actually noticeable. “You're saying that so I don't get pissy.” she snorted. “Well, that one Yanii Arch with the armor didn't seem to value her place too much now did she?” the Yasoi smirked, arms crossed again as she looked to the Forked Tower. “Thanks, by the way.” she murmured.
Vaughn Marbrand shrugged. "You get pissy anyway," he joked. "But you're a teenage girl, amirite?" He shook his head. "Love ya, sis, and I know you've got my back too."
He was, of course, hard at work the entire time. As he began to put the pieces of the street and a couple of empty shops back together, he also began to put the pieces of Volto Argento together as well. "Poor sop," he explained as he went, "thought he was my equal. Thought he was the puppetmaster." Volto Nero shook his head. "He was always just a politician with a nice sword." Presently, he bent down to pick it up. As he did so, he continued creating and recreating matter. Pamphlets began to form on the street, dirtied and torn, a scrap of a green and gold banner, some random blood spatter. The Argento that coalesced did so in two pieces, of course, with multiple other wounds. Oddly, his attire was different. He wore no mask and his clothes were the rich, silky ones of a politician.
Volto Nero continued to work. "Oh yeah, sis," He added. "Think you can mess those pamphlets up a lil'? Step on 'em maybe? Rip them like they've been trampled and thrown around?"
Juulet responded with a simple smile to Nero's assumption. The notion had yet to be put to the test. Would she ever betray family? Which family, then? Her demeanor and actions showed confusion and indecisiveness more than anything.
“He was strong,” Juulet joined her brother in the effort to fix. Yet another unusual behavior for her. Old and lost habits were emerging back, it seemed. “stronger than me, in the long run. Way to salt the wound there, bro.” she rolled her eyes, and made sure to shove a few flopping fish back into the canal. “You're gonna keep the sword for yourself?” she inquired, curious, just as she let her spear wither into dust.
As Argento began to reform, maskless and not a puddle of blood, Juulet raised a brow. “Looks familiar. Was he some teacher or entertainer?” she shrugged. Then came the Nero request, to which she promptly nodded. “Y'know, back home they prostrate themselves to me when they want something.” she teased as she drew her scattered crutches back toward her so she could commence the trampling with the occasional ripping.
He bowed deeply. "I request that my lady sister kindly rip these things to fucking shreds," Vaughn cocked an eyebrow. "Am I doin' it right?" He twirled the sword about in his hand. "Why you ask? Jealous?" He grinned and looked the blade up and down. "Helluva weapon. Temporally imbued, as well."
“More floor kissing.” Juulet remarked as she pursued her stomping spree. “But you got the spirit so I accept it. Good job, here's a free darkling.” there was no aberration, of course.
Juulet pushed her lips out in a pouty manner. “Yeah, kinda. That's probably how he cheated to my level. Obviously.” she jested. Humility, from this Avatar? Who was this? “But I got my own super death gizmo. Two big one's a crowd. Especially with, y'know.” she waved her crutches and peered down at her singular leg. “Balance.”
"See, the chessmaster play is to have imbued crutches as weapons." He shook his head and dusted his hands off, joining her in ripping a small scrap off of a banner and disintegrating the rest. "Oh, as for who he is?" He smirked and motioned for her to come closer.
“Nah, the chessmaster play is to have your weapon the size of a pea and destroy everything with it.” Juulet flaunted the peculiar piece of rock - definitely bigger than a pea, more so a large marble - and tossed it into her hip pouch. “... Although that's not a bad idea either.”
The not so Mad Avatar hesutated at first. She skittered closer to him, eyes narrowed in an exaggerated manner. “No japes. I remember when you made me believe eating leek gave me more magic. I ate that shit with conviction. Hated it. So. Much.”
He whispered the truthful answer into her ear before drawing back. "One enemy of the people removed," he remarked with subtle conviction. Then, returning to his work, he glanced over at her again. "You can choose not to answer if you don't want to," he assured Juulet. "I imagine it might not be a banner memory, but... last time I saw you before a week ago, you had, uh... better balance. What happened?"
Juulet scoffed, and then she laughed. “You're bullshitting.” she covered her mouth and checked the corpse again to be sure. “Damn. You might be right. Spaaaaaaaaaax.” she shook her head. “Badass, bro.”
The youngest Marbrand was caught slightly off guard, but there was no freakout. “Hmmm,” she sucked in her lips, thinking of her words for the first time in a long while. “A lot of things in my mind. Didn't juice up recently too.” she shamefully scratched her cheek after announcing the latter. “Made friends with someone I was keen on hurting. Breaking. I don't know how to feel about it. I-” at that moment her energetic stomping and ripping stopped. “I was angry when I arrived here. Thought everyone was after me but ... I opened up. Some weren't so bad. Even some yan- Huusoi.”
Then, she stomped again, this time making the recently fixed pavement crack and the water to reverberate. “Some assholes took advantage of that, of course. Humiliated me, so I did the bad things, again.”
Vaughn chuckled at the complete non-answer, but then he smiled supportively. "Well, then they got what they deserved. Just remember that most of 'em are good, even if they're ants next to us." He glanced her way as she missed a step and shook his head with a rueful sniff of laughter.
“I guess you're right.” Juulet sighed as she recalled past action. They stung like a nasty cast of magnetic magic. She was quick to shove them back in the mental drawer they originated from. “Let them take an inch, they'll take literally everything.” she gestured toward the near-dead Marci, even poked her with a crutch. “My point.” although as she turned around, she couldn't help but look at the girl again. “Are we just gonna leave her there or ...?”
Regardless of Marceline's fate, a brief silence left her to think. “You were asking about my leg, right? You'd be right to assume my balance isn't right in many ways, really.” she admitted, once again with the humility, albeit it was from Juulet and nobody else.
These specific memories stung even more. Her heart rate increased and her palms quickly became clammy. “Would you call bullshit if I said I just ... Don't remember?” she stopped to regard her brother's reaction with interest. “Mer- Hmm, my mother mentions an accident. A bad one, a little bit after I got my first magics.” she shrugged. “Nobody's allowed to ask this back home. I've ... Done things over that. Not so good things.”
Marbrand smiled supportively. "Watch it have been something super embarrassing, like taking your leg off accidentally with a fork." He shook his head. "When you ascend as goddess, gimme good luck, huh?" Then, however, his tone became a bit more serious. "I imagine it's a huge pain in the ass, but... I'm proud of you. I know you've done some bad stuff, but you care enough to regret it, and you've done some good stuff too. You took an injury that might've ended some people and here you are, kicking ass anyway." He straightened and sauntered over towards the fallen Marceline, where Juulet was standing.
"As for this one, I don't think she'll kick anything ever again." He shook his head. "She's a regular Theracus: always flying too close to the sun." He floated the girl's prone form off of the ground and scowled. "I'd say you've done her a favour, in the long run, by clipping her wings a bit." He shrugged. "If she's made of tough stuff, like you, she'll manage. Certosa knows her in her cover identity. She should be back anytime now and then this mess her friend made is hers to clean up."
The younger Marbrand smiled like her brother. Old mannerisms were never truly lost. “Nah, it'd be a spoon in my legend.” she winked. Then, she got flushed. Praise was mundane and meaningless to a Goddess like her, what mattered was where it came from. “Do you ... Approve? I mean, of the whole ascension thing. I know it's touchy.” she leaned closer to him and employed a hushed tone. “I have to do it. But now I wonder if ... I'm really the one, you know? I still feel scared, and inadequate.”
Then the subject returned to Marceline. Juulet sighed. “The fool actually pulled the triggers.” she shook her head, but quickly purged most thoughts regarding the issue as a new one emerged. “That fucking crown.” she sneered, as she recalled what started it all. “Have you noticed it too? The one worn by the Yanii with the big,” she rubbed her own chest. “And the Barrowton lad - I didn't forget the accent.” said accent was used masterfully by the Yasoi.
“Anyway, mind if I crash a bit at yours? Or home?” she asked casually. “I was thinking ...” she hesitated, but it came out. “We catch up, like, genuinely? I ditched you two pretty fast last time. And I'm in no hurry right now.”
"Think about it this way," her brother offered, "If you're the one, you're gonna make it. You and me and Tanny and even this mysterious mother of yours will make sure of it." He winked. "And if you're not, you get to live a hundred years and do all the things you're gonna do." He shrugged. "It's a win-win, way I see it."
Then, she went on to talk about the crown. "It's demonic, and it's a tier five at least, maybe higher." He shook his head. "Suunei, that girl's name is Dorothea, and she's the kind of person who makes all dark mages look bad. She needs to die if I'm going to be frank about it."
He scowled absently down at the prone Marceline. "Fooled this one: thought she was a player but was really just a pawn." He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I kind of feel for her. As a tethered, that's the last she'll ever walk, but there's no way you could've known that." He squeezed his sister's shoulder. "And now she's learned that her actions have consequences not just for others, but for her."
When he was finished laughing at Juulet's imitation of the famous Brindland accent, he waved her onwards. "Let's pop in on Tanny then, shall we?" His smile was large and genuine and he beamed at her: his little sister - that precious kid who was so much like him even though the world had tried to make her nothing like him - back in his life, back on an even keel. "But, first," he amended, "I have to just take a quick detour back to my place. No need to bring my whole battle kit there, huh?"
There it was, the feeling of safety. Vaughn's play was masterful and Juulet melted so easily to the words of affirmation and encouragements. She shot him a cheeky grin, one at face value meant to challenge whether he was being truthful or not, but it was obvious she was thoroughly flustered.
“Then kill her.” she immediately shifted into a casual tone, and the subject matter hardly affected her demeanor. “Or do you want us to tag-team the big bad threat?” but then, as she nearly lost herself in the fantasy of teaming with the middle Marbrand, she shook her head. “Actually ... Tsk.” there was that hesitation again, but this one stood firmer than her usual blocks. “Maybe not now. Not unless we gotta.”
Juulet scoffed at the Marci situation. “Ironic that she would make fun of my leg. Some cripple name calling or whatever.” she shook her head. “If she's not tended to soon she'll be another super-tweeker anyway. Now that is a life not worth living.” said the near-tweeker herself. She raised her hand to her brother's and smiled at him. “You gotta show me how you cured me, by the way.”
The young Marbrand nodded with great enthusiasm. “Ypti-ka-yay. Tanny's probably not gonna like this, though.” she gestured toward the body and the mess they had left behind, along with everything else. “Aaaactually, I might need to do a little detour of my own. How's 'bout we race?” she proposed with the cheekiest of looks. “Loser's gotta explain the mess when news gets out.”
Big brother smiled at little sister. "Sure," he exclaimed, "and I'll tell ya what!" His smile became a teasing smirk. "I'll even give you a handicap!" He kicked at one of her crutches and was off.
Behind them was left only stillness, darkness, and evidence of a riot. The body of a man who may have been Volto Argento and may have been someone else lay there like a timed explosive. Soon, other bodies would join it, waiting to be found.
It was no less than a bang at Marbrand's door. Tku made a hole in the wall so his voice could travel. "Marbrand! Please come quickly! Juulet and others are fighting and I think only you can stop them!"
The door swung open of its own accord and Vaughn Marbrand was inside. "Juulet's fighting!?" he nearly shouted. "Who!?" He was already moving about rapidly, half-dressed but quickly pulling on all of his regalia. "Tku! Who!?" he demanded.
Air filled his lungs, "Marci and some other man, the gift felt weak there." He produced an answer and then giving the crossroads where he last saw them. "Please sir, I don't want any of them to meet Eshiran yet," Tku pleaded and got out of his master's way.
For a moment, there seemed to be almost... relief coming from the disbarred Zeno. "She pushed too far," he murmured in absent alarm, gathering his final belongings. There were items among them, Tku could tell, that held incomprehensible power. Then, Vaughn Marbrand seemed to recover his focus. "Tku, right!" he said briskly, drawing from space and time, "Thank you for telling me, lad." He clapped the youth on the shoulder. "You stay here and you clean up and stay safe." There was a tight smile. "I'll handle this." Within moments, there was a flash and he disappeared.
Like music to her ears. The pain, the pleas and the inevitable betrayal of loved ones. The torment was so great that it had become a constant Juulet recognized, and had experienced herself. She scoffed at the pathetic sight that was Marceline. “Shouldn't have pulled those triggers, girl.” uttered Juulet, bitterly. Eventually, Marceline was tossed away like an unwanted toy, left to suffer on her own while their mark-turned-executioner twisted to regard Fiske in his physical agony.
The Mad Avatar had claimed Marceline's mind, and she was then going to claim Fiske's life. “I warned you once before to not fuck with me, Yanii.” she landed her singular foot right before him and kneeled. “But you all just needed to have the last word, didn't you? Had you just beaten the shit out of me, I'd get it. I'd hit you back, but I'd get it.” she reached out to prod the young rogue's temple with her finger. “So now I'll take everything. It's only fair, right?”
Heat began to accumulate inside of Fiske. It started like a very bad fever, and only went up from there. It was going to be quick if none intervened.
The witch stood over her defeated opponents, drawing off what was left of the huge aberration and filling herself further. She could not see the disgust behind Volto Argento's mask when he appeared behind her. In fact, she likely could not see him at all, so engrossed in her macabre triumph was she, so shrouded in Ahn-Shune's Enigma was he.
First, she would have seen Volto Giallo - better known as Sorriso - wielding the new scythe he had purchased from the Hegelan he'd bought. First, she might've thought that she had a chance here.
She didn't.
The shadows warped and fell away and Volto Argento peeled himself from them. From across his back, he withdrew, for only the third time in anger, Eien 88. "Didn't your vile 'mother' ever teach you not to play with your food, or perhaps, at least, your brother?" he taunted. Sorriso merely stalked forward, his bristly beard poking out from beneath his mask, his massive grin growing, maniacal giggling already starting up. He twirled the scythe. "Drop him or I boil you alive right here."
One presence she recognized. The other, however, was unfamiliar and far more terrifying the moment she sensed him. Her euthanasia effort was halted as she perked up to acknowledge both interlopers. “If it isn't fatass and his girlfriend. Went to cry to her after the ass kicking I gave you?” she taunted, but remained by Fiske. “Do that and you'll kill him too, fucko.”
Like with Marceline, she manipulated an incapacitated Fiske with the gift, turning him into an improvised human shield. “How do you know any of that? My brother, I can get, but who the fucking fuck told you about my mother, eh?” an increasingly agitated and pissed off Juulet stared both Volti down. “You didn't come here for this nothing here. No way. What do you want this time?”
"COME ON!!!" bellowed Sorriso, accelerating as he rushed for Juulet, utterly ignoring her taunts. He continued to laugh uncontrollably and, in seconds, he was on top of her. Then, he was gone.
Volto Argento tilted his head to the side. "You vastly overestimate the number of fucks I give about some random boy but, on principle, for each person tonight who you kill, I will rip one limb off of you. Understand?"
Sorriso reappeared behind her in a sneak attack. The scythe came straight for the small of her back and sunk in deeply. He pulled it out and blood began spilling from her, but Juulet had let go of her toy and it hadn't cleanly bisected her as it was supposed to have done.
Argento quietly floated the badly wounded boy away and began to heal him.
Fiske was gradually restored to full health, though he remained, momentarily, unconscious.
"Say," taunted Sorriso, "Didn't you 'kill' me last time? What happened, little girl?"
Juulet, having barely dodged Sorriso's quick attack, snarled. “Didn't have enough with dying the first time, did you?” smoke erupted from her nostrils before the watch ticked once more. “I'll turn you to ash this time.” however, the pocketwatch seemed to lost is lustre. Her surprise attack did not execute as well as she had hoped.
It was a literal back and forth of energy swapping, with Juulet eventually redirecting it all into the canal, causing a massive burst of thick steam! Juulet twitched, multiple times. “What. Do. You. Want?”
"You," Argento replied, "Dead." He set Fiske down gently, some ways away from the fighting. "It's rather simple, really." With a gesture, he commanded the steaming Sorriso to step back. He took his underling's place and stalked forward.
“Original.” commented a snarky Juulet. “Not a good omen, bub. Not at all.” and with a stomp on the ground, a surge of adrenaline ran through her. Those crazy, purple eyes intensified and the destruction incarnate she was known for took actual physical shape with matter all around her being shattered and drawn into her.
Argento regarded the girl dispassionately, or perhaps it was just the mask.
A clash of titans erupted, wreaking havoc onto the local area.
"Sorriso, I am not too proud to admit that this petulant child is too strong for me to handle alone. Would you mind offering some help?"
Sorriso strafed to the side and began drawing.
“SUWWISUUU!!! HEWLP MUYYYY!” she made a pouty face. “My deawu gurlfwiend!!!” Juulet snorted. “Bring it, losers!”
Argento said nothing. And with Sorriso, a blast of kinetic energy was hurled Juulet’s way.
The Mad Avatar spun her head, mouth agape and giggles escaping her. It would be insane for someone to take these two on alone. And yet, despite having a perfectly good Fiske, she had almost completely forgotten such a spec existed.
Then, in front of Juulet, appeared a man in black: a presence who she knew well even if she could not see his face for the mask covering it. He held out a hand to stay her wrath. "You are not his true target, sister." Vaughn Marbrand declared. He stepped forward, hands empty, body language relaxed. "I am."
"What happened to no attachments, Nero?" asked Argento calmly, but was he truly calm at this point?
"I love and am loved," the Black Volto replied implacably. "What of you, Argento?" His hands remained open before him, but the energy that began to build was... crushing.
There he was. The brother.
Here in the flesh, and now he could see who she truly was. There was no Ms. Monke. Or Mr. Biggles. Or even their sister. Vaughn Marbrand could see Juulet'oli'muustii'zan.
“I'm BAIT?!” she growled, at both Vaughn and Argento. “Fuck. FUCK!” her head began to pound. This was enough to stop her rampage, leaving her levitating behind Nero with her palm against her forehead.
She shook her head. “Doesn't matter. They want us both dead now.” she drew just as aggressively as her brother, leading to her exploding into a zenith of immense heat that flames were near invisible from their intensity. Her spear, half-complete, was in her hand once more. “Kill 'em or run?”
Nero turned to her for a moment. "He used you as bait," he confirmed. Then he turned back to his enemies and tilted his head. "What do you say, Volto Argento? Kill 'em or run?"
"I say you are a traitor to the Dieci Volti Nascosti!" Argento bellowed, stalking forward. There was a flash nearby. Floating like a ghost, a foot above the ground, was a pale woman in a white dress. She wore a chartreuse mask with a stoic expression.
Volto Nero stopped. "I say you have warped our organization and our once-noble goal." Nero shrugged. "It's a matter of perspective, I suppose." Then…
Volto Argento exploded into a spray of blood, bits of bone, and shreds of skin.
Juulet blinked.
His sword clattered to the ground.
“Wow.” she hit a moment of clarity. “And I thought I was strong.”
"You were never truly my equal, Argento." His mask and clothing stained with blood, he strode forward to pick it up.
Vaughn Marbrand removed his mask and smiled at his little sister. "You will be soon, little plum." He reached over to ruffle her hair fondly. "Maybe stronger."
Disarmed completely, she just ... Didn't move. She wanted to say something, but-
Her wicked eyes captured the form of Sorriso. “Pig fuck.”
Sorriso, frozen in place, unglued himself from the ground. He began to back away, terrified. "You are a traitor, Giallo, and a vile piece of shit," Nero agreed with his sister.
Jocasta's eyes widened, her white dress spattered with blood. "V-Vaughn?" she stammered. "Your mask!"
"Argento..."
She began gathering still more energy. "The Mad Avatar is your sister!?"
She shook her head, disbelieving, and began backing away. Sorriso hurried in her direction.
Juulet glared right at the ghost-like Volti. “Call me that again, cunt.”
"She just murdered Marci and tried to murder Fiske, just like Manfred, just like Qasem, and Ismette, and you... defended her!?" So in shock was she that she utterly ignored Juulet. Instead, her eyes drifted towards the newly-awakened Fiske. She sent two pinches his way: 'Illusions' and 'run'.
The Mad Avatar began to laugh. “This AGAIN?” she shook her head as the vehemence grew. “I didn't kill shit. I WAS going to kill that one.” she nudged her chin toward Fiske. “After he and his cunt girlfriend tried to KILL ME! Morons, I warned them. But they neveeeeeeer listeeeeeen. Ever. So I gotta do this over and over ...” and the rambling went on.
Fiske nodded and began to quickly cast and illusionary self in his stead as he shrouded himself in ahn-shune's enigma and fled. Just to be sure... he made another one that ran through another path.
Vaughn Marbrand stilled. "Certosa, you know me," he remarked. "And you knew him." He gestured in the direction where Argento had been. "You know what a bad man he was."
He gestured next at Juulet. "Juulet, here, is my sister. She was stolen from me as a child. She does not always make the best decisions but... Jocasta, she is not so different from you. All of that pain, all of that power: there was no way she would ever be left alone, so she's hardened, as you have." He shook his head. "Marceline and Fiske attacked her. That's all there is to it. I know Marci means a lot to you, but she tried to kill someone and that someone defended herself." His face became pained. "I'm sorry, kid, really. Heal your foolhardy friend. She yet lives and I won't stand in the way."
Unreadable behind her mask, Jocasta locked eyes with Volto Nero. Did hers dart Juulet's way? It was impossible to tell. Regardless, she began floating her way toward her fallen friend. Nero, meanwhile, laid a comforting hand upon his sister's shoulder. "You cannot stave off death forever." He began to heal her.
Sorriso stood there, chest heaving, glancing between the other parties. Then, after a few moments, they collectively began to notice something. Volto Nero and Volto Giallo faced each other for a moment. The latter nodded. He took off after Fiske.
Jocasta let herself down beside Marceline. "Oh my brave, stupid little sister," she murmured, stroking the girl's hair. "What have you done and what have they done to you?" She tried healing, but there was nothing she could heal. There was a deep aberrative affliction and she had overdrawn terribly. Jocasta rose once more. "There is nothing I can do, Marbrand." She shook her head. "She is a tethered and, now, even with the help of a grey aberration, she won't walk." She shook her head tightly.
There was a lot of talking. Too much of it. But it was from Vaughn - once her rock, now a warm memory that left her cautious. The love was undeniably there, but the feeling of being an imposter, of being Juulet rather than Juliette, was overwhelming. She didn't know whether to be angry or overjoyed, to lash out or hold her tongue. But each time she regarded her saviour and brother, she lit up a little more. The erratic twitching that occasionally took her was gone and the chaotic vigor of her's had eventually faded.
At first she grit her teeth, but eventually she exhaled in light relief. “I won't chase the rats, if you're concerned about that.” she crossed her arms whilst restoring some of the bricks and pavement around her via binding. “In fact, I'll be fucking off. I've everything I need.”
Unconsciously, she found herself drifting ever closer to Vaughn until their elbows met. She had since been restored.
“You can fix the madness.” admitted Juulet, resigned to peace after being on a war path for so long. “If you find someone good enough to exercise her before it creeps in permanently.” she pursed her lips and looked uncharacteristically normal for once. “Seen it, and done it.” she shrugged. “Better be quick, blondie.” but there was always a hint of provocation with Juulet, no matter what, and she couldn't help but smirk.
Jocasta floated there, expressionless behind her mask, but then she took a moment to glance over in the direction of Sorriso, who'd run off after Fiske. "I suppose Fiske must die now, for your sins?" Her voice may have sounded neutral in tone, but it was not. She was judging the man she'd once thought of as a mentor and almost an older brother.
"He needn't die. He need only lose his memories of this incident," Volto Nero declared beatifically. "If you can reach him before Sorriso does, then I am equally happy with that outcome. All of our secrets here, this night, must be preserved and he is currently our critical weakness."
Jocasta regarded him for a moment. She tilted her head to the side and, with a flash, was gone. Brother and sister were left alone, then, in this place of pain and triumph. Quietly, the former reached out with his magics of Blood and Binding and began to rebuild it.
Juulet sighed once they finally had some privacy. “I had an escape plan, you know?” she pouted. “You didn't have to brick another career for me. Fucking hells Vaughn ...”
He punched her playfully on the shoulder. "It's a pastime now, kiddo." He smiled. "Besides, I think I've seen a job opening come up elsewhere."
Juulet giggled, and retaliated with her own. It was two titans playfully nudging, so the shockwaves were actually noticeable. “You're saying that so I don't get pissy.” she snorted. “Well, that one Yanii Arch with the armor didn't seem to value her place too much now did she?” the Yasoi smirked, arms crossed again as she looked to the Forked Tower. “Thanks, by the way.” she murmured.
Vaughn Marbrand shrugged. "You get pissy anyway," he joked. "But you're a teenage girl, amirite?" He shook his head. "Love ya, sis, and I know you've got my back too."
He was, of course, hard at work the entire time. As he began to put the pieces of the street and a couple of empty shops back together, he also began to put the pieces of Volto Argento together as well. "Poor sop," he explained as he went, "thought he was my equal. Thought he was the puppetmaster." Volto Nero shook his head. "He was always just a politician with a nice sword." Presently, he bent down to pick it up. As he did so, he continued creating and recreating matter. Pamphlets began to form on the street, dirtied and torn, a scrap of a green and gold banner, some random blood spatter. The Argento that coalesced did so in two pieces, of course, with multiple other wounds. Oddly, his attire was different. He wore no mask and his clothes were the rich, silky ones of a politician.
Volto Nero continued to work. "Oh yeah, sis," He added. "Think you can mess those pamphlets up a lil'? Step on 'em maybe? Rip them like they've been trampled and thrown around?"
Juulet responded with a simple smile to Nero's assumption. The notion had yet to be put to the test. Would she ever betray family? Which family, then? Her demeanor and actions showed confusion and indecisiveness more than anything.
“He was strong,” Juulet joined her brother in the effort to fix. Yet another unusual behavior for her. Old and lost habits were emerging back, it seemed. “stronger than me, in the long run. Way to salt the wound there, bro.” she rolled her eyes, and made sure to shove a few flopping fish back into the canal. “You're gonna keep the sword for yourself?” she inquired, curious, just as she let her spear wither into dust.
As Argento began to reform, maskless and not a puddle of blood, Juulet raised a brow. “Looks familiar. Was he some teacher or entertainer?” she shrugged. Then came the Nero request, to which she promptly nodded. “Y'know, back home they prostrate themselves to me when they want something.” she teased as she drew her scattered crutches back toward her so she could commence the trampling with the occasional ripping.
He bowed deeply. "I request that my lady sister kindly rip these things to fucking shreds," Vaughn cocked an eyebrow. "Am I doin' it right?" He twirled the sword about in his hand. "Why you ask? Jealous?" He grinned and looked the blade up and down. "Helluva weapon. Temporally imbued, as well."
“More floor kissing.” Juulet remarked as she pursued her stomping spree. “But you got the spirit so I accept it. Good job, here's a free darkling.” there was no aberration, of course.
Juulet pushed her lips out in a pouty manner. “Yeah, kinda. That's probably how he cheated to my level. Obviously.” she jested. Humility, from this Avatar? Who was this? “But I got my own super death gizmo. Two big one's a crowd. Especially with, y'know.” she waved her crutches and peered down at her singular leg. “Balance.”
"See, the chessmaster play is to have imbued crutches as weapons." He shook his head and dusted his hands off, joining her in ripping a small scrap off of a banner and disintegrating the rest. "Oh, as for who he is?" He smirked and motioned for her to come closer.
“Nah, the chessmaster play is to have your weapon the size of a pea and destroy everything with it.” Juulet flaunted the peculiar piece of rock - definitely bigger than a pea, more so a large marble - and tossed it into her hip pouch. “... Although that's not a bad idea either.”
The not so Mad Avatar hesutated at first. She skittered closer to him, eyes narrowed in an exaggerated manner. “No japes. I remember when you made me believe eating leek gave me more magic. I ate that shit with conviction. Hated it. So. Much.”
He whispered the truthful answer into her ear before drawing back. "One enemy of the people removed," he remarked with subtle conviction. Then, returning to his work, he glanced over at her again. "You can choose not to answer if you don't want to," he assured Juulet. "I imagine it might not be a banner memory, but... last time I saw you before a week ago, you had, uh... better balance. What happened?"
Juulet scoffed, and then she laughed. “You're bullshitting.” she covered her mouth and checked the corpse again to be sure. “Damn. You might be right. Spaaaaaaaaaax.” she shook her head. “Badass, bro.”
The youngest Marbrand was caught slightly off guard, but there was no freakout. “Hmmm,” she sucked in her lips, thinking of her words for the first time in a long while. “A lot of things in my mind. Didn't juice up recently too.” she shamefully scratched her cheek after announcing the latter. “Made friends with someone I was keen on hurting. Breaking. I don't know how to feel about it. I-” at that moment her energetic stomping and ripping stopped. “I was angry when I arrived here. Thought everyone was after me but ... I opened up. Some weren't so bad. Even some yan- Huusoi.”
Then, she stomped again, this time making the recently fixed pavement crack and the water to reverberate. “Some assholes took advantage of that, of course. Humiliated me, so I did the bad things, again.”
Vaughn chuckled at the complete non-answer, but then he smiled supportively. "Well, then they got what they deserved. Just remember that most of 'em are good, even if they're ants next to us." He glanced her way as she missed a step and shook his head with a rueful sniff of laughter.
“I guess you're right.” Juulet sighed as she recalled past action. They stung like a nasty cast of magnetic magic. She was quick to shove them back in the mental drawer they originated from. “Let them take an inch, they'll take literally everything.” she gestured toward the near-dead Marci, even poked her with a crutch. “My point.” although as she turned around, she couldn't help but look at the girl again. “Are we just gonna leave her there or ...?”
Regardless of Marceline's fate, a brief silence left her to think. “You were asking about my leg, right? You'd be right to assume my balance isn't right in many ways, really.” she admitted, once again with the humility, albeit it was from Juulet and nobody else.
These specific memories stung even more. Her heart rate increased and her palms quickly became clammy. “Would you call bullshit if I said I just ... Don't remember?” she stopped to regard her brother's reaction with interest. “Mer- Hmm, my mother mentions an accident. A bad one, a little bit after I got my first magics.” she shrugged. “Nobody's allowed to ask this back home. I've ... Done things over that. Not so good things.”
Marbrand smiled supportively. "Watch it have been something super embarrassing, like taking your leg off accidentally with a fork." He shook his head. "When you ascend as goddess, gimme good luck, huh?" Then, however, his tone became a bit more serious. "I imagine it's a huge pain in the ass, but... I'm proud of you. I know you've done some bad stuff, but you care enough to regret it, and you've done some good stuff too. You took an injury that might've ended some people and here you are, kicking ass anyway." He straightened and sauntered over towards the fallen Marceline, where Juulet was standing.
"As for this one, I don't think she'll kick anything ever again." He shook his head. "She's a regular Theracus: always flying too close to the sun." He floated the girl's prone form off of the ground and scowled. "I'd say you've done her a favour, in the long run, by clipping her wings a bit." He shrugged. "If she's made of tough stuff, like you, she'll manage. Certosa knows her in her cover identity. She should be back anytime now and then this mess her friend made is hers to clean up."
The younger Marbrand smiled like her brother. Old mannerisms were never truly lost. “Nah, it'd be a spoon in my legend.” she winked. Then, she got flushed. Praise was mundane and meaningless to a Goddess like her, what mattered was where it came from. “Do you ... Approve? I mean, of the whole ascension thing. I know it's touchy.” she leaned closer to him and employed a hushed tone. “I have to do it. But now I wonder if ... I'm really the one, you know? I still feel scared, and inadequate.”
Then the subject returned to Marceline. Juulet sighed. “The fool actually pulled the triggers.” she shook her head, but quickly purged most thoughts regarding the issue as a new one emerged. “That fucking crown.” she sneered, as she recalled what started it all. “Have you noticed it too? The one worn by the Yanii with the big,” she rubbed her own chest. “And the Barrowton lad - I didn't forget the accent.” said accent was used masterfully by the Yasoi.
“Anyway, mind if I crash a bit at yours? Or home?” she asked casually. “I was thinking ...” she hesitated, but it came out. “We catch up, like, genuinely? I ditched you two pretty fast last time. And I'm in no hurry right now.”
"Think about it this way," her brother offered, "If you're the one, you're gonna make it. You and me and Tanny and even this mysterious mother of yours will make sure of it." He winked. "And if you're not, you get to live a hundred years and do all the things you're gonna do." He shrugged. "It's a win-win, way I see it."
Then, she went on to talk about the crown. "It's demonic, and it's a tier five at least, maybe higher." He shook his head. "Suunei, that girl's name is Dorothea, and she's the kind of person who makes all dark mages look bad. She needs to die if I'm going to be frank about it."
He scowled absently down at the prone Marceline. "Fooled this one: thought she was a player but was really just a pawn." He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I kind of feel for her. As a tethered, that's the last she'll ever walk, but there's no way you could've known that." He squeezed his sister's shoulder. "And now she's learned that her actions have consequences not just for others, but for her."
When he was finished laughing at Juulet's imitation of the famous Brindland accent, he waved her onwards. "Let's pop in on Tanny then, shall we?" His smile was large and genuine and he beamed at her: his little sister - that precious kid who was so much like him even though the world had tried to make her nothing like him - back in his life, back on an even keel. "But, first," he amended, "I have to just take a quick detour back to my place. No need to bring my whole battle kit there, huh?"
There it was, the feeling of safety. Vaughn's play was masterful and Juulet melted so easily to the words of affirmation and encouragements. She shot him a cheeky grin, one at face value meant to challenge whether he was being truthful or not, but it was obvious she was thoroughly flustered.
“Then kill her.” she immediately shifted into a casual tone, and the subject matter hardly affected her demeanor. “Or do you want us to tag-team the big bad threat?” but then, as she nearly lost herself in the fantasy of teaming with the middle Marbrand, she shook her head. “Actually ... Tsk.” there was that hesitation again, but this one stood firmer than her usual blocks. “Maybe not now. Not unless we gotta.”
Juulet scoffed at the Marci situation. “Ironic that she would make fun of my leg. Some cripple name calling or whatever.” she shook her head. “If she's not tended to soon she'll be another super-tweeker anyway. Now that is a life not worth living.” said the near-tweeker herself. She raised her hand to her brother's and smiled at him. “You gotta show me how you cured me, by the way.”
The young Marbrand nodded with great enthusiasm. “Ypti-ka-yay. Tanny's probably not gonna like this, though.” she gestured toward the body and the mess they had left behind, along with everything else. “Aaaactually, I might need to do a little detour of my own. How's 'bout we race?” she proposed with the cheekiest of looks. “Loser's gotta explain the mess when news gets out.”
Big brother smiled at little sister. "Sure," he exclaimed, "and I'll tell ya what!" His smile became a teasing smirk. "I'll even give you a handicap!" He kicked at one of her crutches and was off.
Behind them was left only stillness, darkness, and evidence of a riot. The body of a man who may have been Volto Argento and may have been someone else lay there like a timed explosive. Soon, other bodies would join it, waiting to be found.
It was late enough that dew had formed across the city. If most of the combat had been loud and destructive, one of the near-godlike parties involved had managed to erect some sort of sight or sound barrier around the proceedings and... what had been a revolution of sorts ended up more or less unwatched. Jocasta floated in: a small white and gold figure, ghostlike in the darkness.
She had seen Marceline at the party, she saw Marceline here, and she understood. It crossed her mind to simply put this copy out of her misery, but then she thought better of it, just to err on the side of caution. In truth, she paid barely any attention to her surroundings, so exhausted was she, both physically and mentally. "Silly Marci," she breathed, brushing a lock of some hair from the girl's eyes. She looked like her mother more so than some distant Kerreman father.
Smoothly, silently, Jocasta knelt down and picked up this version of her stricken friend, absently gathering the pistols she'd tried to use as well. She would play along with Vaughn Marbrand for now. She would be a good soldier. She had done her apparent duty with Fiske. But she saw him for what he really was. She saw him and she would bide her time and wait.
Like it or not, the game never ended. She had always been a piece on the board. Soon - she was determined - she would become a player.
She had seen Marceline at the party, she saw Marceline here, and she understood. It crossed her mind to simply put this copy out of her misery, but then she thought better of it, just to err on the side of caution. In truth, she paid barely any attention to her surroundings, so exhausted was she, both physically and mentally. "Silly Marci," she breathed, brushing a lock of some hair from the girl's eyes. She looked like her mother more so than some distant Kerreman father.
Smoothly, silently, Jocasta knelt down and picked up this version of her stricken friend, absently gathering the pistols she'd tried to use as well. She would play along with Vaughn Marbrand for now. She would be a good soldier. She had done her apparent duty with Fiske. But she saw him for what he really was. She saw him and she would bide her time and wait.
Like it or not, the game never ended. She had always been a piece on the board. Soon - she was determined - she would become a player.
