imperial life (open)

[Talon]

T A L O N

Searing 52, 122 Steel
Wintergarten Circle

Talon finished fastening the eagle style clasp upon his chest. Draped over his shoulder was a crimson cape, tailored to fall over his wing without impeding his movements. He tugged at the hem of his vest and adjusted the cuffs of his waistcoat. When he was satisfied he accepted the ceremonial officer’s sword to hang from his hip. He stood there, silent for a moment as he stared down at the floor.

“Shall I call for a transport, my Prince?” He looked up and into the eyes of his bondmate and husband. Aoren looked back at him, mild concern written across his features. They had debated on whether or not he should leave the walls of the palace so soon. As much as Talon did not feel ready to be anywhere, he knew he did not want to stay locked up inside anymore. He had spent six months imprisoned and he was ready to try and get into something close to a routine. He knew he was forbidden from leaving the Imperial City, at least for now. It was a command he could not disobey, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

“My Prince?” He felt a pang in his chest. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath before running a hand through his silver-white hair.

“You need not be so formal anymore, my husband.” He tried to will a smile to his face but it only resulted in a tremulous twitch of his lips. “I am no Prince. Not here. Not anymore.”

Aoren blinked at him. Across the Bond, the blessed warmth that had been returned to his soul, he could feel his husband wanting to protest but Talon simply shook his head. It was the truth. He could not return home to Kalzasi. As far as he knew, the land of the Synnekar was still in turmoil. He found himself hesitant to cast his gaze to the Northland, for fear of what he would find there. He did not think he could bear the sight of his homeland in flames while he was powerless to come to its aide. His absence from the city likely meant that the throne of Kalzasi would inevitably pass to another. He doubted even his mother could stave off the Daizoku of the Council from forcing a vote forever. That realization hurt him more than he ever thought it would. His entire life had been spent fighting for, protecting, and learning to one day rule over a nation that was now far out of his reach.

“Talon--” He turned and pressed a kiss to Aoren’s lips in order to silence him. Across the bond he let his thoughts and emotions be known more fully.

“Come. I do not wish to dwell on it.” He took Aoren’s hand and brought the back of it to his lips before releasing it. Folding his wings he exited his chambers, ones far more luxurious than he ever would have imagined, and began making his way out of the West Wing of the Palace of Spire. He wore attire that would have befit a military officer though there was no insignia of rank. The only symbol of note was the eagle clasp upon his chest. As soon as he stepped into the corridor and began making his way toward the grand entrance hall of the palace, he was joined by two Kathar who fell into step smoothly. Their presence made him want to grit his teeth in frustration but he knew that there was no avoiding them. He had not bothered to learn their names yet. As he made his way down the steps of the palace and to the bottom, Talon stopped.

“Talon?” Aoren came up beside him. He felt his bondmate’s hand slide into his own, a thumb rubbing along the back. Talon looked into the skies. He breathed in the air, air that was not laden with the scent of his own suffering, nor the sweat of soldiers standing watch. He could smell the gardens of the palace. He could smell the scents of a bustling industrial city nearby. He could smell the salt of the sea.

“You’re sure you don’t want a transport?” He shook his head. Gathering his cloak into one arm, he spread his wings. The sliver of the feathers had not dimmed. In fact, they were more radiant and pristine than ever. The light of the sun practically sought them out and he felt warmth, true and glorious warmth, from pure sunlight, touch him for the first time in so long. It nearly overwhelmed him with emotion but he felt Aoren help him pull it back into something manageable. Talon took off into the sky. He had no fear of the wards around the palace. He had been told he was free to come and go so long as he answered a summons and did not leave the city. He ascended into the skies. Aoren joined him. The Kathar joined him as well. In his peripheral, he saw others take to the skies. He felt the stretch of his muscles as he flew and it allowed him to feel the relief of a type of freedom. He flew with ease, not as weak as he would have thought after such a long time in chains. He supposed--no, he knew--it was due to the fact that his healing was no longer impeded.

“There! We can land there and tour the Circle.” He followed his husband’s direction, gliding out of the way of buildings until they found a clear place to land. Talon landed in stride, with a preternatural grace. Aoren landed beside him and his Kathar guard landed just behind them both. Rather than standing and gawking, Talon chose to keep walking. It felt good to just be moving.

“Where would you like to go, my Prince?” Aoren’s voice was soft, almost as though he was coaxing Talon out of a shell. He supposed that was true.

“Aoren, I told you--” Aoren held up a hand.

“I understand how you feel, my Talon. I do, but…even if you are no longer a prince of this earthly realm, you are still an aethereal one.” Across the bond, Talon felt the mental equivalent of holding hands. A surge of warmth pushed at the jagged edges of his bruised and wounded pride and ego. After being beaten to nothing, after being robbed of himself, it was something to cling to. He was almost ashamed to admit how much a simple title meant to him. It should not have meant anything but…

He gave a small smile to his husband.

“I suppose, I do not mind it when you put it that way.” He looked around. “Let us just walk. For now. I find myself hesitant to go indoors just yet.”

Aoren nodded. Talon folded his wings comfortably, allowing his husband to walk beside him at an even step. He took his first true steps into the city of Gel’Grandal.

It was time to learn what the life of an Imperial was like.

[Lyra]

Heat radiated down from above as the sun shone down and glittered off the impossibly tall buildings of glass and metal. The streets of Wintergarten Circle were crowded, horseless carriages driving past on the blackened roads at the center of the streets, but the pathways along each side of the road were wide and filled with people. Sizzling sounds came from a cart on wheels, a large dragonshard visible through metal slats on which screwers of steadily browning meat were visible and tempting to the milling crowds that passed by. Men in top hats walked alongside women in fine pressed suits, and shop owners stood beside their entryways waving at groups that traveled by and waving glowing signs to catch the attention of potential customers. It was chaotic, yet the citizens of the city milled about like ants in a colony, all of them seemingly knowing exactly where to go.

A circle of people opened up as the sound of drums filled the air. The rhythmic pounding was joined by stomping feet, and instruments of string and brass soon followed. The first round of applause went up as a woman dressed in far too revealing clothing, giving a slight bend of her waist and a flourish of her hands before clapping along with the beat. More people joined, stepping through the crowd as the first woman's hips began to sway, then her feet began to move and the tempo of the music increased. The performance seemed a common thing at this corner, for several of the men in the crowd whistled and called for the attention of one dancer or another.

In the back of the dancers, an elf with silver hair and golden eyes matched the movements of the more experienced dancers at the front. She smiled wide, eyes glittering in excitement as spun in a wave of silver silks. The black markings on her body seemed to move slightly, but it could have been the light. Lyrielle enjoyed herself, her bare feet not even feeling the heat of the pavement beneath her, and her eyes focused on the pair of winged men that walked down the street. He couldn't hide from her. He was too bright, the nimbus too grand, and new markings had filled since she last saw him.

Found you. Lyrielle thought, gaze lingering on Talon a moment before she focused on her performance one more.

[Florian]

FLORIAN

Gel'Grandal was disorienting. It was complicated, crowded, and confused the fresh demigod. Florian had found himself frequently hiding in his apartment rather than going out. It was not just the sensations of the physical world; he frequently found himself enraptured and overwhelmed by metaphysical manifestations of the ties that bind. For some, especially Northside, it was low wages, or cruel landlords, or the gangs that ruled territory measured in city blocks and demanded payment for protection. Most did not include the Empire in this. Those that did were often shocking in the ferocity by which they felt trapped. He was struggling to filter everything out.

And the Kathar. They did not seem to fully understand their situation, but Florian could. He could see it, plain as written word, plain as daylight, writ on the collars 'round their necks. No one else seemed to mind this clear shackling of person. Each unbroken chain led into the distance, and when he was Southside, close enough to see the Obelisk, they all led there.

Southside, by comparison, was easier on the mind. Instead of shackles there were delicate webs of chains, unwanted social obligations, family trials, and loveless marriages. Like glittering jewelry rather than the hefty weights that Northsiders carried, though he lived in the Northside he found himself taking the train Southside if he must leave. It was easier to avoid the destruction he sought when he did not find their issues worth caring about.

The woman at the table in front of him in the cafe wore a ring that she hated, and sat across from a man she despised just as much. He could barely hear what she said, but her sheer defiant energy was ringing in his ear. Florian closed his eyes and desperately tried to concentrate on blocking it out.

The woman cried out in shock as her wedding ring cracked in half and fell onto the table. Florian sighed and held his head in his hands, though her shock dampened what seemed to be her desire to flight-or-fight the man she was forced to call husband. The wedded couple quickly left, and Florian looked back up, and outside the window of the cafe. It was not uncommon to see Kathar in Wintergarten Circle.

It was uncommon to see Talon. He had really only seen him once before in the flesh, and it was at the wedding he had been kidnapped at. In their dreams, in a realm of light and shadow, he had seen him. But he had not seen him free, surrounded by chained Kathar. And Aoren, too— the man he recognized from Talon's wedding. His husband, his heart. He was chained in the same way as the Kathar, with a collar that chained itself to the Obelisk like a tether to a dog. Talon was different. He could not quite tell what was going on, but a spark of defiance that should have burned in his heart felt like a smoldering ember instead. He couldn't tell much else about the man, but it immediately felt wrong. Florian tried to clear his head and look away — without Rickter, if he was even still alive, he wasn't sure how much he could do — but it failed. He couldn't just let the god walk away like this. He wasn't fully intent on causing a scene, but he walked out the door, abandoning his half-filled cup of tea.

[Rickter]

It had been several days since he'd been reunited with just one of the few loves in his life. Telion's presence here in Gel'Grandal came as an unexpected shock to Rickter, but, he was also somewhat relieved that he had another familiar face to be around. His trip with Dante had been difficult enough from the start, but clearing past provincial boundaries in a fortnight's time was definitely new to the bucket list. Regardless he had been a little more tolerable around the Vampyre now, since, was a slight improvement compared to the spiteful attitude Rickter had before.

He loathed everything about this place. The Imperium smelled worse than Zaichaer and, so far, he hadn't thoroughly enjoyed the experience here. Having to keep a low profile to protect his loved ones, and to sniff around for their other missing pack member, the wolf felt all the more agitated and about ready to threaten anyone that might've gotten in their way. Though, of course, everyone knew the prime source of his constant anxiousness. This was the Imperium after all, this was where his enemies had taken the other two loves he'd fought for. The ones he'd so dearly missed, and failed to protect when they needed him the most.

Thus while Patrick lingered more at the airship with the rest of the crew, Rickter and Telion had taken the day to poke further into town. They were only slightly acquainted with the Northside, but it had perhaps been best to learn what they could of the Southside as well. After all, Rickter knew exactly where they kept Talon, and it wasn't like the Palace of Spires was easily overlooked here either. Except for today, he had his back turned toward all that. Today Rickter was focusing on keeping his cool, and on locating where Hannah could have gone after she'd arrived here. He had also found a clothing store to replace the torn shirt he'd worn on the whole trip here, replacing it with a freshly whiter one from a storefront located on the northside.

Strangely enough, as they sat together sipping at cups in the daylight, Rickter admittedly huffed a few times out of habit when he grew warm. While the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, he did have the suspenders from Zaichaer over them, attached to the beige pants that were still in relatively decent condition to say the least. The only thing that seemed new to the attire other than the shirt was the scarf around his neck, which served as another coping mechanism to keep him calm and focused. Because each whiff he took through his nostrils that scarf still had the same scent as before, the smell of home from when he found it in the comfort of a certain Synnekar.

Telion was dressed in the gorgeous blue dress she always wore, the reveal of skin around her pretty shoulders and neck. If for a moment the wolf might've actually doted on her again just now, before a glance up from her sipping her tea led her to display surprise. She was about to inhale her drink but a clear of her throat prevented that, as her eyes locked on a particular subject without looking away. "Uh, Rickter..." The wolf's coffee rested in his hands in that moment, and when his eyes followed her stare out of concern, he immediately saw why exactly she had been stricken with panic. If the fucking Gods were toying with him now!

Almost immediately at the sight of those silver and raven wings, Rickter's demeanor tightened further, his shoulders tenses as he averted his gaze back forward once more. Talon was here... Talon was here! He literally fucking strolled onto the street just now! Immediately Rickter felt a clench in his chest as the old wound there burned, the pain in his heart fresh as he remembered all of the one night he wanted to forget. The one night he never wanted to end. Already the coffee in his cup rippled in response, before a brief whistle led to the beverage popping out the mug. The memory of his trauma that night triggered him, resulting in the caffeinated brew to solidify into an ice spike from the mug; while frost immediately covered the palm of his hands.

No. Not this. Not now.

He didn't want to face this, he wasn't ready to face this now. Not when he still had so much guilt to sort through, not when he still needed time to figure out... "Rickter?" Telion murmured without looking back over his shoulder, already seeing the distress he'd fallen in just from looking at the pair. She took his hand in hers to try and comfort him, surprised to feel the intense cold at the surface of his skin. "Oh, shit..." She knew he had started to flounder, at that moment at least, by the rate at which his breathing accelerated. His mind raced and his heart skipped a few beats, but the initial shock of what he saw had finally passed, and he barely managed to keep his cool in check.

The breathing slowed as Telion's rubbed his forearm now, hoping to generate warmth back around his emblem, while he noticed the sight of another as they walked out of the cafe shop they'd sat in front of. "Master Florian?!" He lowly murmured with a sheer look of utter surprise, his gaze turned to watch as the Lysanrin marched straight up to the pair in the street.

"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Telion"

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

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Life in the Imperium was…strange. In Zaichaer, his existence as Vitalitasi wasn't exactly…sanctioned. His status as a mage wasn't quite smiled upon either, even if the covens, ultimately, were a boon to the city. For the most part, he kept those parts of him entirely hidden outside of very specific company. Here, however, he was able to more fully embrace these parts of himself. Well, he would be able to once his training as an inquisitor was complete.

The pair of vampyres had been here nearly two weeks at this point. Wounds to their spirits from the evacuation were still fresh, but for whatever it's worth, they were adapting well on the surface. Today, they were told that they were free to roam the city as they pleased.

The Circle was a place Hector had become fond of over the short period of time that he'd been here. It was an ideal place to people watch, really. Popular with visitors and locals alike, it usually consisted of an eclectic mix of faces any time one were to pass through– today being no different. From where he was enjoying his drink, a particularly strange looking Lysanrin had caught his eye.

Sitting at the same cafe as the duo of vampyres, the man was only a tad shorter than Hector, possessing a frame only slightly slimmer. It was not these features that stood out, rather, it was the scars on his face, the mechanical arm, defiance in his eyes and the horn splintered with gold, patterns like a strike of lightning. How beautiful he was. He wanted to know the stories behind these things, the life this man had led. How many summers had he seen? What kind of person was he?

Then, his thoughts were interrupted. Something had caught the stranger's eye. Just as soon as Hector was able to follow his line of sight, the Lysanrin stood. He was approaching a pair of Avialae with a look of urgency drawn across his features. Only one of them was Kathar…strange. Did the three have ties to one another? What were they? Curious, the only choice the elf had was to wait and watch the situation unfold before him.

____

'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
Aidolon Speech

[Talon]

T A L O N

They were nearing a coffee shop when he felt it. His steps slowed to a stop causing his hand to be tugged lightly by Aoren. His husband stopped, turning his head to look at him quizzically. Talon turned his attention to that which he felt sharply upon his senses. He zeroed in on a Lysanrin man who was walking in their general direction. When his gaze settled upon him, he knew him immediately for what he was. Talon blinked and his eyes held a soft silver-white light within them so that he could behold the young man for what he really was. Before him stood a being not unlike himself. He saw around the Lysanrin’s head a nimbus with symbols whose shapes held truer meanings than any mortals words could translate. Staring at that nimbus of light however, Talon felt his emotions stir ever so slightly.

It was the man from his dreams. From his vision. A person he had all but forgotten about. Talon had almost dismissed him as not real. A figment of his tortured imagination. He was momentarily at a loss for words as he beheld him. All of it was real. All of it had been more than just his imagination. It was hard to believe that the two of them had spoken not that long ago. In truth, they had spoken even before that in a time and place beyond the time and place that was in front of them. He blinked and before he really knew what he was doing, he was walking toward Florian. He quickly scanned behind Florian. His eyes settled on the cafe just behind him.

“I would like to give the Imperium’s coffee a try. It is rare that we taste it in the Northlands. I have heard it is quite an experience.” He nodded toward the cafe beyond Florian, with its sign clearly visible.

Talon felt another vibration across his senses that nearly made him stumble. That time, Aoren stepped closer but Talon pressed a hand to his partner’s shoulder and squeezed it. Across the Bond, he sent a silent warning. He also sent knowledge of exactly who it was that Talon felt. He had been so consumed by the ordeal, he must have missed him. Through the link provided to them by the Emblem marks that were emblazoned upon his soul, Talon reached out to his wolf and sent a thread of warmth to him. He knew exactly where Rickter was within the circle. He made a point to not look in that direction. As he moved closer to Florian, yet another presence registered on his aethereal senses. He might have missed it were he not already so familiar with her. He could feel the mercurial presence of Lyra…or something that felt like Lyra on the edge of his awareness. It felt as if she were nearby but also far away. It was strange but he did not linger on it. Again, he made a point to not acknowledge them both. If they were here and with Florian? That could only have meant one thing.

He opened his eyes with the power of Semblance and beheld Florian once more. Were he not a divine himself, the potency of the man’s aura would have registered as painful. As it was, he was merely surprised at what he saw. He had to focus his power to a greater degree than expected but once he did, he saw a mix of emotions there. Pain. A flare of aggravation. Annoyance. Distraction. Understanding blossomed and as he reached the man, he turned to the side, lifting a wing as though he were allowing Florian to walk past him. Over the Bond, he quietly urged his partner to play along. Aoren immediately joined him. As Florian neared, there came a soft breeze that tugged at Talon’s cloak and caused it to tangle into one of the Lysanrin’s legs. Before Florian could trip, Talon caught him and squeezed a shoulder. As he lifted the Lysanrin into an upright position, he spoke softly.

“Concentrate on what you want before you, not what you are pulled toward.” He straightened and gave Florian a smile.

“Apologies.” With a bow of his head he stepped away and gestured for Florian to continue on his way. He angled his hand so that the presence of the Kathar guards was plainly visible, their forms not but a few paces behind them. Talon wasted no more time and continued on toward the coffee shop.

[Florian]

Florian was not ready for Talon to change his trajectory towards him, and before he could contemplate walking to the side, he was already tangled in the god's cloak. He realized, now, that he stood between both Talon and Aoren. His eyes met Talon's as he was repositioned upright. Even with their wings folded back, it obscured some of his presence from the Kathar that traveled behind him.

"Thanks," he mumbled, but his thoughts were racing far past that moment.

Talon's words. It was too strange a coincidence for Talon to have approached so quickly that he couldn't react to them right in front of him. So close to Aoren and the Kathar guards, and the painful ringing in his ears their collars caused, he could barely hear what Talon said so softly — but he did hear them. More than the Kathar, Florian knew that Aoren was aware of his entrapment. He turned his gaze towards Aoren just before they passed, and though he had no time to reach to the collar, he grabbed his wrist for but a moment.

In that split second, Florian felt the dampened resistance that Aoren felt and held inside him. The hatred, the desperation to be free once more. Aoren knew that he was controlled, and he knew that he could not fight it. In that split second, Florian felt everything restraining him, both willingly and unwillingly. From the red string between him and Talon, to his trauma and fear, to the physical and mental restraint of the collar. Florian had no plan when he came up to them, and he had no plan when he grabbed the man's wrist. In that split second, Florian acted.

Florian offered his own will. He reached towards him with everything he felt, in this state of uncontrolled defiance, mingled with Aoren's feelings — and he amped them up with every touching desire for freedom lost. Aoren's pain of restraint became his own. His hatred of the Empire, his longing, it reverberated in his mind until he could hear and see nothing else but him. It was more painful than anything he could remember.

Talon had said once that while his Heart was shackled, he would always remain a prisoner. And he held Talon's Heart by the wrist. His own heart beat so loudly and so quickly, it only served to join the painful chorus. Was he imagining this, or was he really feeling what

His focus turned onto the collar. So close to Aoren, his aura reached the collar on his neck, even if he did not physically touch it. His heart and mind filled with every bottled up emotion, every ounce of anger that had grown in Florian in the small time he had been in Gel'Grandal, and with every intention of the rebellious Way that was given to him. And with this divinely wrought power, he sought to break that collar.

[Euripides]

Travel had been something that Euripides had dreamed of. Outside of the cities that pledged their allegiance to Kalsazi’s crown. Zaichaer had been the furthest she’d managed and now that she was here in the Imperium — she hated it. Or rather, the bard hated the clothes that people wore. Not different from that of Kalsazi and Zaichaer alike in the ways that flattered the form, but in taverns she’d seen these hideous dresses that resembled a box. And even the wealthier versions of clothing had been…disappointing.

Which was why she had, quite pointedly, looked for imports when it came to fashion. No trust in the Imperial tastes. She figured that if she stuck with the familiar, then at least she would stand out. Aside from the obvious guitar on her back. The strap was fraying and she’d need to get a new one, but that was a concern for another day’s Euri. One that wasn’t sweating in the heat of Searing, maybe. But if she wanted to learn anything else: it was the music. Lyra had already found herself immersed. In dance, which — wasn’t all that surprising to the bard. Perhaps the ease of going from something elegant to a dance more base was the surprise, and the effect of making it somehow seem high class. More than what it was, and somehow it didn’t feel preposterous. Or maybe that was the way the bard had managed to see it jumbled up.

Sat there on the ground to observe the festivities within the square, the bard chewed on something she’d picked up from a vendor on the street. Food was another good way to learn about a place and at least it passed this particular test. And it might have received more of a grade if not for having dropped out of her hand. The slide of grease down her fingers, to drip to the ground after the sliced meat on the pavement was lost in the chatter of the crowd. The silence of it as she stared across at a face she had never thought she would be so cursed with seeing again.

Euripides was not one to say that she felt fear. Fear was such a distant memory now, locked away in the Warrens and smothered by the hysterical rearrangement of her own memories. The bard blinked once, twice, thrice. Never mind all the familiar faces she was seeing — the horned man was not particularly unwelcome a sight, but not entirely expected. A little different, but there.

Beside Talon Novalys.

Did the bard have all the particulars on what happened at his wedding? A complete picture wasn’t necessary, but it wouldn’t have stopped the ire that had boiled within her as she forced herself to her feet and tromped her way over. An ire that wouldn’t be seen beyond the maniacal grin on her face as she approached.

There were traces of memories. Dreams, hallucinations; borrowed and fractured from a past she refused to properly remember as her own. One such being of a huddled group of legionnaires trading stories. Voices and demeanors changed to match caricatures of people. She — as a bard, as a storyteller — could do much the same. Remember words as they were used, even if she didn’t fully understand them.

A bounce to her step as she wedged herself between the horned man and the royal consort — was he even a royal anymore? Here, collared as he was. Hands clapped together, great glee on her face and a sparkle in her eyes. A manic sort of wonder to her voice. Not quite right in the way her memory worked of how others had done it. A tilt of her head and — oh, maybe it was like this. The delight of a fan (when really every bone in her body burned with the opposite of adoration) carried on a single gasp before she spoke.

“Oh my! Wangseja-nim, it’s been so so so long!” Whether it had been a dream or not — she was uncertain. But! Here he was! In the flesh, and fettered. Tables had turned, somewhere, hadn’t they. Maybe there was a bit of delight in seeing him as he was, even if he moved freely among the citizens. Her gaze dipped to his collar, but she made no such moves to free him from it.

He hadn’t exactly freed her from any such captivity, now had he?

[Rickter]

He'd froze now. Thankfully not literally as ice wouldn't have been a good thing to manifest, but regardless, Rickter seemed utterly petrified as he steadied his breathing. His heart drummed so quickly that he felt it ready to burst, his innate fears born from the situation re-evaluated from a second mindset as he focused on his beloved's touch. And then it hit him. The vibrant warmth he felt reminded off so many days ago, that brilliant spark of joy that could've expelled any doubt. The temperature returned to his wrists as he breathed steadily, the pace of his heart gradually slowing as he held onto that warmth like a curtain.

Or perhaps a blanket of hope really, but one that the wolf knew better than to react to. With every fiber of his being begging to move, the tension in Rickter's form only slightly lessened, as he found himself able to look from his frozen drink back to the healer at his arm. "I'm fine." He affirmed with himself as much as he did with Telion, the blonde smiling nervously as he could still see the concern in her eyes. I wish... I knew more, then I could do more... He admitted with himself as he observed the first of the few obstacles that'd stand in his way. Though they might've hung back the little entourage of Kathar wasn't missed, and while Rickter had the itch to risk it, there were other elements at hand he needed to take into consideration.

But still...

Is it fate? Or chance? I can never decide. He cursed Vicis for this, for having such a grand opportunity laden before him... And yet here he was unprepared for it in every way. Regardless, the wolf's gaze grew firm with determination as he his woman by the hand. "See? Warm as ever." Rickter activated his senses to engage with his nose, the aetheric aura around Talon thick with the scent of the Aetherium. But it wasn't just his scent masked beneath all that, the wolf traced a familiar scent as well within the aura, one that led the wolf to wonder just how exactly Florian shared a similar smell.

"What are we to do?" Telion inquired as she leaned in close to whisper to Rickter, the wolf's gaze on the window to watch the reflections of the group behind him.

"Remain calm," because that obviously was the most important step in this process, "I'm not sure what he's up to... But if Talon and Aoren go inside..." Rickter looked over to his beloved once more, contemplating the odds of seeing Aoren slip away within there for a moment. The timing would have to be right, and while Rickter couldn't Traverse his dear Kathar out directly, he hadn't forgotten the trick he'd used on Franky to store him in a protective dome. "So I know I've used this as an excuse before, but there is some merit of truth to this..." Telion eyed him curiously as if she felt uncertain by what he meant. "But I really do need to go take a piss."

"Oh..." Her eyes rose as she pulled back to lean into her chair again, a playful smile on her lips as she chuckled to herself once more. "Better go ask the clerk then." Somehow Rickter felt like she'd caught on, a small grin cast her way before he looked to the window once more. Florian seemed to be doing something but that wasn't all, Euri seemed to engage with them as well, her words caught on the breeze as Rickter observed the scene from his position. He saw everyone there, including Lyra, and for a moment the wolf truly pondered to himself.

Of all the things that could happen... where do you see it going from here? He inquired thoughtfully with a glance up toward the heavens, wondering which of the Gods were watching this moment in particular. Of all the timing in the world, he wouldn't be afraid to reactively leap at his companion's side, to be ready to protect them from the Imperium once again. The only uncertainty was how fast, or skillfully, could he actually get Talon and, or just, Aoren out of the clutches of the Imperials.

"Eikean's radiant balls," and then her voice weighed in as a passerby stopping at their table, "is that really you, Telion?!" Rickter's eyes widened as he realized who he saw in the reflection standing behind him, his lover's eyes widened as she stared directly at Hannah with sheer anxiety in her eyes. "What the fuck are you-"

"Hey, Hannah!" The healer quickly greeted with a hearty giggle, though Rickter could tell she had forced it. "You're just in time! We were just having some tea."

"Well, tea and coffee." Rickter could see it in her shoulders when her reflection stiffened, her expression riddled with shock as she realized who sat before her. Just as he looked to see her about ready to verbally lash out, the wolf nodded toward the coffee shop window, before cutting her off with an invitation to join them. "Get a warm brew, have a seat with us." The brunette almost didn't take the hint right away, but her eyes fell upon the shop and she too could see. Now she really looked pissed, the hand grip on the strap of Rickter's featherlight back already tightening before she exhaled through her nostrils.

"What a surprise," she then cooed before slipping the bag off her shoulder, "how could I refuse." There was no enthusiasm in her voice at all, but the wolf knew she understood just how precarious their situation grew. Without hesitation, he accepted the bag by the strap as Hannah carried on to enter the cafe herself, the bag rested on his lap as he finally exhaled a sigh of relief through his nostrils.

What a surprise indeed.

"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"
"Rickter" "Telion" "Hannah"

[Mirage]

► Show Spoiler

Results of actions were decided via rolls.

Florian could feel the chains that bound Aoren, and his own desire to be free. He extended his power toward the collar and he would feel some resistance. A wall, a barrier that attempted to keep him out, but something else as well. Something blinked, but Florian's power would not be denied. It filtered into the collar, sinking into the fabric of the magic that held it in place, and began to...

A shove from the side would cause Florian to stumble slightly as Euri forced herself between himself and Aoren. The moment was gone, the collar unbroken, and not even a crack visible on its surface. Florian would feel rough hands on his upper arms as the two Kathar guards grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. Neither said anything, but one gave a casual shove and push Florian back out into the crowd. Both then began to follow after Talon once more, not sparing a glance for Aoren or the strange woman who had approached him.

.