imperial life (open)

[Talon]

T A L O N

Aoren stopped as his wrist was grasped. He looked quizzically at Florian before his eyes went wide as the power that was rolling through the young demigod touched him in a way that even he did not fully understand. There, boiling beneath the surface of his subdued demeanor, there were many things. There was rage at the Imperium. There was no small amount of fear either. There was sorrow. There was yearning. There was a strong desire to not only free himself but to free his bondmate as well. But then Florian was shoved away from him. The Kathar guards pushed the young Lysanrin away and Aoren had to blink to come back to where he was. He gaze the young man a lingering stare. His mouth opened as if he were going to say something.

“Aoren?” Talon called out to his husband even as the Kathar drew nearer. They did not advance on him but they remained within earshot. It was then that Talon heard a voice. It was a familiar voice. It was not a welcome voice. He turned to face her even as he counted to himself in order to marshal his patience. He gave her his most frigid smile of utter politeness.

“Yeoju-in ib!” Mistress Mouth. “You are yet among the living? Truly the gods have blessed me with a curious day.”

He did not miss her gaze falling to his neck. There was no collar present there. The Imperium could not bind him with such a trinket. No, they had used something far more powerful but the evidence of the armor they had forced him to complete was hidden beneath his clothes. The fact that this woman had searched for it so openly only made his opinion of her sour that much further. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he felt a stirring in the aether. It caused the muscles between his shoulders to itch. It felt like the pressure of a brewing storm that was just over the horizon. He resisted the urge to turn on his heel and leave Wintergatan Circle. He was not eager to return to his cage of stone and glass but nor was he exactly thrilled to see her, of all people.

The sense of a brewing storm grew. Talon glanced over his shoulder just as Aoren was joining him. He caught sight of Florian once more and this time, a thread of concern passed through him. Florian was the source of the brewing storm that he could feel. His lips thinned into a line of worry. He could not speak to Florian telepathically like he could his bondmate, nor could he send any warning to the young man so openly. Not a second time. Not without arousing even more suspicion than he likely already did. So he returned his attention to the bard. He could still feel the presence of Rickter and Lyra registering on his senses. The longer they lingered there, the more uneasy he was becoming. What were they planning? He centered himself. He had to trust them. He spoke to the woman in front of him.

“Tell me, how is it that I have earned your glee and attention?”

[Euripides]

If Euri noticed or cared for the horned man’s removal, she didn’t show it. Mostly because she didn’t do either of those things. So focused on the figure that dwarfed her immensely. To anyone else this situation — interaction? confrontation? — would have looked so bizarre. But with Euri, it would be considered normal, even as she donned a facade of someone else. Maybe an old matron that was used to sucking up to people; one of those stories she’d heard in jokes not meant for her.

She just happened to be on the periphery of them.

“Ah! Wangseja-nim, you remember me!” A squeal — a sound that one wouldn’t necessarily associate with the bard — left her. Hands flew to her lips as if to conceal excitement before her eyes widened. A title — Mistress Mouth — bestowed upon her. Oh, she knew it for what it was, but really: did she care? As if such bestowal of mockery was something to be received with the greatest of gratitude, she would take it as such. Hands on her abdomen as if to direct the tilt of her torso in a bow, head still tipped somewhat to the side. “You do your humble servant a great honor with such a nickname, Wangseja-nim.”

He was no Crown Prince anymore. Not that she had ever truly acknowledged him as such after her wonderful trip into the Warrens, or maybe even a little before that. The trenches of her adolescence in meek admiration of the luxury and finery of the nobility had been shackled and fed to the hellscape of the First Deep. Of course, he wouldn’t know because now why would he be so concerned with the citizens of the Low City, right? The very people that looked up to him could be counted as mere fodder for the exploration and toil of clearing out the Warrens.

“The gods bless and curse in equal parts, Wangseja-nim.” A titter of laughter, hands still at her abdomen as she righted herself. Something not-right to her smile as she stepped closer. Truly: no fear. “I take it you also aren’t completely enamored with the Imperial style, yes? No collar, and all. But you have completely left behind the stunning figure of the Kalsazern man.”

As if to make matters worse, it was followed with a gleeful: “This look completes you. Maybe you should keep it, Wangseja-nim.” The word said with just the right intonation of mockery, over the appropriate amount of respect he so deserved, every single time.

[Florian]

Florian stretched his fingers and stood for a moment. Everyone wanted to run into him today. The woman seemed intent on harassing Talon, so why she inserted herself between him and Aoren — who was on the opposite side — was beyond him. She was not smart enough to have noticed what he was doing. Not even he knew what he had been doing. Now, however, he knew exactly what he had tried.

He turned on his heel and approached the two Kathar that had roughly pulled him to his feet. Florian was overwhelmed with the emotion he had pulled from Aoren, and his own feelings, pain, and anger. Every movement was brimming with energy he could not release himself, that continued to torch his senses and sensibility. It was a panic attack of overstimulation, and just as he had been about to find relief, it had been taken from him. He was determined to release this energy.

Onlookers had begun to notice the woman loudly harassing the group of Kathar knights, and they had definitely noticed his return to the Kathar in the crowd. Florian found himself just behind them and reached forwards, grabbing both of them by the arm. He knew how to exert his power, now, and their collars tore, breaking off the connection they had to their controllers. One Kathar clutched his head and the other stood and blinked slowly, both as if they had awoken from a deep sleep, disoriented and not fully aware. It was a better response than Florian could have asked for, because it gave him time for the next step before he was captured himself.

Florian closed the distance between him and Talon and Aoren. If they did not notice the Kathar's sudden freedom, distracted by the Kalzasern woman as they were, they would notice that Florian had returned. In turn, he pushed her out of the way and grabbed Aoren again. He did not know what would happen after he did this, but the consequences were not on his mind as much as the burning need for mental relief and the fervent desire to fulfill part of a promise when given the chance. He took the same energy from Aoren, quicker now that he knew what to look for, and mentally tore at the collar around his neck. With the hand on his arm, he looked up at his face. For a second, he was almost apologetic for causing a scene, but he dug his nails into that arm, hard enough to cause indents, maybe even hard enough to cause bleeding. With that action, he drew out a sliver of his own divinity, a fragment of power, and offered it to him. A gift. It was up to Aoren if he would take it.

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

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Hector watched the Lysanrin's approach. Avialae and Kathar usually don't catch his gaze for…myriad reasons. However, if the horned stranger had business with them, perhaps they had more to them than their milquetoast appearances would suggest. To him, they were pretty to a point that they were bland. Plus, the mage had a tendency to read a certain air of pretension from Avialae– especially ones dressed like that. Aside from the collar, of course.

The Lysanrin grabbed the collared one's arm, ceasing his movement in the process. Hector couldn't tell what he was doing, but from looking at his face, it would appear that he was determined to do something with this gesture. Perhaps casting a spell of some sort? But wait…Lysanrin had limited magical capabilities, what exactly was he planning? Hector's interest was piqued ever more.

Then…whatever he was going to do was ruined. A young woman approached and shoved the horned one out of the way. She spoke to one of the Avialae, and utilizing Adrenosis, Hector sharpened his hearing to properly understand what they were saying. She had to be messing with him. There was something off about her, too. Perhaps the elf should offer a hand? Keep her at bay, so to speak. Or maybe even make everything worse. What's the harm in a little added chaos?

With eyes transfixed in the general direction of the two, Hector spoke:
"Haunt the woman who shoved the horned one, will you?" His voice was soft and casual when he made this request of his aidolon.

Vergil's brows furrowed in response to the words of his companion. "What are you trying to do, exactly?" His voice was quizzical, partially disapproving and more than a little curious. The elf responded, at first, to this query with a soft smile and laughter.
"Oh, she's harassing those Kathar knights, see? I'm trying to help them, that's all." He most certainly was not.

The inky black void that was his shadow stirred as if awoken from a deep slumber. The dark cloud then began to move, slowly closing the distance between itself and the woman it had been instructed to play with. When it reached her, swirling dark fog encroached upwards from around her feet. Soon, she was engulfed completely, vision obscured. Even in the midday sun, the spirit's very being appeared to absorb light.

The first thing she'd hear would be the chiming of bells, tiny and delicate. Then, she would hear a chorus of whispers begin to scratch at the back of her skull, incoherent. The spirit dug its claws into her mind, quickly skimming her experiences for memories most poor. Once it had, the sibilant whispers gained coherence, speaking of things unique to her. They spoke of the Warrens. They spoke of her dead lover, her long lost friend. They mocked her for what she had become, taunting her with the happy childhood long since passed. Slowly, she would begin to feel a subtle paranoia. This was the extent of the spirit's power– the effect it would have, ultimately, was entirely up to how the woman would react to these voices, these feelings.

While this was happening, Hector felt something…change? A release of energy perhaps? He'd noticed it when the young Lysanrin first grabbed onto the two Kathar that had lifted him from the ground. The stranger had done that something he'd tried to do earlier, but he still didn't quite understand what it was. They appeared disoriented…but…why?

Next, he made his way back over to the other man he had first touched. Hector watched with bated breath for the scene to continue to unfold before him. Vergil looked…gravely concerned.

____

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

[Rickter]

Rickter's fist about beat on the table as he watched with diminished patience, the lady Euri he'd seen with Lyra in Zaichaer was here as well, and while he'd hoped to slip into the café after Talon and Aoren had, it soon became clear that a change in tactics was at hand. Their window of time was likely closing even now, which meant that the wolf needed to think of something else and fast. Telion watched him diligently save for the occasional glance at the entrance, likely to keep an eye for Hannah when the brunette would return to join them. However, Rickter knew they didn't have that kind of time. He was torn. He was on the verge of panic. Every fiber in his body commanded for him to move, and yet, indecision weighed him down so heavily he could only watch the reflections before him.

And yet... He could get Aoren out of here. He could pull the same trick on him as he did with Franky, it would take only a moment to prep the shield but that involved getting close. Yet when Rickter's eyes narrowed he looked hard at Florian, and how focused he seemed to be on not just Aoren... on the Kathar that brushed him off afterward also. Florian had an antimagic power. Rickter knew this because of the tower at Lyra's manor in Zaichaer, and he knew it was effective, but he wasn't certain how effective quite yet. "I know what to do." He murmured as Telion's focus centered fully on him, her concerned gaze filled with curiosity as he brought his hands beneath the table. Thank the fucking GODS that Euri was unintentionally feeding him just a bit more time, it was the perfect window for the opportunity he saw waiting to happen.

"The moment Hannah comes back out here I want you both ready to leave. This could very well backfire depending on our luck." He knew the risk he was taking, but it was far better than risking it all for nothing. Rickter lifted the featherlight bag from his lap to place it between him and Telion, before he drew his hands close together beneath the table to generate an anchor. The most important anchor that would have to be able to withstand even Florian's power, if only to carry out it's intended duty once the ward he instilled into it finally activated. As he felt his aether radiating beneath the table, the wolf clenched his jaw hard, pouring a large amount of his reserves into the charge while he continued to observe. Somehow, someway, the Lysanrin had managed to deactivate the collars on the Kathars.

All on his own. There! He realized as Florian drew closer to Talon and Aoren once more, this time taking the Raven-winged Avialae with a firm grip. Rickter kicked back the chair from behind him as he pulled his anchor around, his gaze focused directly on Florian as he pulled his hands away from the anchhor. "Florian!!" The wolf called out to him as he released his anchor to cast it with Tunneling, the node quickly barreling through the air before it contacted the Lysanrin. After the shimmering anchor rested on the skin of his forearm, Rickter gestured with a cross of his arms to signal the activation of the ward set in place. Within just those few seconds the anchor had before Florian's antimagic withered it away, a personal bubble formed around Florain and Aoren before the aether rippled in response.

The ward instilled flared to life with a flash as Florian's own aetherial aura would become magnified, the ward Layered with Acceleration from his Kinetics rune, to generate what Rickter would hope to be a brief shockwave of antimagic.

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

Off Topic

Rickter is attempting to create a barrier around Florian and Aoren, using Acceleration to amplify the rebound of the shield to create a magic EMP based of Florian's own aether signature. The intention is to release a pulsation that will terminate any magical devices within the immediate vicinity.

[Mirage]

The two Kathar stumbled as their collars were released, a look of dazed confusion crossing their features. From there things happened in quick succession. Hector's Aidolon moved swiftly into place, surrounding Euri in a spinning cloud of darkness that whispered in an almost familiar way. Normal citizens were now taking notice of the display. Some were interested, some annoyed, and others concerned as the looked skyward as if expecting something.

With a sizzling snap of aetheric might Rickter's masterful work of negation released, and as the barrier formed around Florian and Aoren a wave of magic exploded outward. The lights in the coffee shop flickered and went out, colorful displays on the walls shattered, and the windows rattled slightly and cracked as small, nearly imperceptible glyphs plinked out in an instant. Outside there was a sudden screech of noise as vehicles on the streets swerved and collided with one another, their internal mechanisms failing. One with a thin frame slammed into one of the light fixtures outside the shop, pushing the pole over into a crowd of people who scattered with shouts of alarm.

Panic began to increase, people once too stunned to move seeming to awaken and begin swiftly moving en masse away from the destruction. A whistle was heard and a siren raised. The thrumming sound filled the air as men with black wings began to land on nearby buildings and the street. Some went to the injured, some began pulling open crushed car doors and pulling people from the wreckage, but most turned toward the coffee shop and began advancing.

.

[Talon]

T A L O N

“Yes, Yeoju-in ib, I remember you. Perhaps more than you remember of yourself.” His thoughts drifted to Elsewhere, a place where neither time nor place meant anything at all. He was about to respond blythely to her gilded words when the mention of the collar drew a frown to his features. He narrowed his eyes, regarding her much like one would regard something unpleasant.

“You might do well to be enamored with some manner of style, Yeoju-in ib. You seem to have abandoned any semblance of it.” Before he could say another word in response to her barbed conversation, a shadowy darkness rose up before him causing him to immediately go on alert. Several things happened all at once all around him. He felt the stirring of power beside him. He felt a shifting in the aether coming from Rickter. Talon turned and watched chaos unfold before him. He heard Rickter shout. He would never mistake his sorumeito’s voice. He heard common people scream in shock. He felt Aoren suddenly come alive with a clarity of awareness that had made his prior connection and state of mind fuzzy at best. The blazing inferno that was the beacon of his husband’s soul flared with the fiery intensity of his passions once more.

Talon watched as Aoren took Florian’s hand. Across the Bond he felt his husband acknowledge and accept something. Talon saw the two disoriented Kathar just mere steps away. His eyes fell to the pieces of the collars that once hung around their necks. Then came the blast and Talon felt it smash into him with the force of a gale wind. Yet he remained unmoved. His cloak and hair were caught in the winds but he was not budged even an inch by the force of the blast. More chaos descended upon Wintergatan Circle as things powered by Imperial magic fizzled out. Vehicles crashed. People screamed. Panic descended upon the world around him but throughout it, Talon remained calm. He knew this moment for what it was.

Talon had always held back.

In everything he did, he had been trained in the art of discipline and restraint. He was a warrior who had often sparred with humans. As an Avialae who had been both physically bigger and stronger, he had often withheld the full force of his blows. In his conversations, even with the unpleasant woman who had darkened his day now, he withheld some of his ire for the sake of politeness. Even before his ascension as a Divine, he had been considered a sorcerer of exceptional power that gave even the authorities of Zaichaer pause for thought.

In everything, Talon had always, always, held back.

He stopped holding back.

It took only a breath. Talon threw off the veil of his mortality and any semblance of disguising his divinity. The bright halo of light that was his holy nimbus came into full fruition. It bathed everything in the Circle in a silver-white light as an aura of divine, radiant fire blossomed into being around the Demigod of Justice, Light and Hope. Talon reached into the wellspring of his godly power and channel through it one of the powers that came most naturally to him. He opened his eyes to the Aether Flux in full. He beheld the webwork of power that flowed within and around all people and things in his sight. He spoke a single word.

“Stop.”

With the force of his command, bolstered by his might as a fully realized god, he enacted Deceleration upon everything and anything he saw and even where he did not see. Falling fixtures came to a dead stop midair. Vehicles careening out of control were brought to a complete halt. And every person in the area became frozen as the flow of the flux around them was brought to a complete stop. For a mortal, this would have been the height of magical strain. He was not a mortal.

Talon stood there, the clothing he had been wearing had been burned away by the flames of his divinity revealing the armor that he wore beneath. It shifted and covered his form, becoming a reflection of the god that wore it. Talon regarded the people around him with a hint of sadness. He looked at Florian. He looked at the Kathar who were struggling to get their bearings. He looked to his beloved who was reaching out for him, eyes wide with fear. Not of him, for him. Seeing Aoren, frozen there with fear written on his face brought back painful memories. The screams of his husband being broken and forced to return to the servitude of the Kathar Legion would not be something he ever forgot. He looked to the other Kathar, rushing to pull people from broken vehicles, swarming down from on high and advancing toward them. The sight of them, collared and bound to act, just as he was bound to act, tugged at him. With the clarity brought with the full manifestation of his divinity, with eyes fully open to the Aetherium, he saw things only he could See.

Talon stepped up to Aoren and cupped his cheek with one hand.

“I cannot leave, my love. Not yet. There is work to be done.” He pressed a kiss to Aoren’s brow. “Forgive me, my dragon.”

Talon reached higher still. He shed the last veil of mortality and reached into the province of his divinity as was his right. He held the Way of Justice and took its full might as his own, as was his right. He knew the fate that would befall his beloved Aoren. He knew the fate that would befall that Kathar who were now free of their collars, perhaps for the first time in their lives. There would be no Justice, only butchery. He would not stand for it. So he would pass his own Judgement.

Then he invoked the highest form of his godhood and called upon the dominion of the Godscraft; Archmagic. Weaving it into the domain that was his to preside over, Talon cast his judgement and through it he took hold of the aether of choice people before him:

He reached out to the two disoriented Kathar.
He reached out to Florian.
He reached out to Euripides.
He reached out to Rickter and through him, Telion and Hannah.
He reached out to Lyra.

He physically took hold of Aoren’s face, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you.”

Talon touched each of them with his Traversion and through the connection he forged, he cast them all away, Ferrying them to the safest place he could think of; he sent them home to Kalzasi.

With the act done, Talon felt his strength diminish but only by half if he had to judge. Perhaps more. He looked to the space where Aoren had been. He could still feel the Bond, but it would no longer be a chain but a boon. He folded his hands behind him, letting them rest at the small of his back. He blinked.

The world sprung back to life the same moment that Talon let the veil of mortality fall back over him.

Off Topic

Talon has enacted the use of Archmagic. The first feat was to bring the world around him to a complete halt using his Kinetic power of Deceleration. Time was not stopped but everyone and everything in the area was brought to a complete standstill. His second act he has used to save those he was most concerned about. He has used it to cast Judgement against the butchering that he believes the swarming Kathar would have visited on those who caused the disruption or would have dragged them off to an Imperial prison. Through that Judgement, he momentarily tethered the aether of those he chose to his own and through that link, used his Traversion to Ferry them through a Gateway to Kalzasi. The Gateway was then immediately closed. This affects the following people:

Florian
Rickter
Telion
Hannah
Euripides
The two Kathar released from their collars
Lyra
Aoren

I leave it up to you, the writers, to decide whether or not your characters were able to perceive what Talon just did.

[Laveriel]

The first day she stepped foot in the city proper, she saw the towering buildings and odd carts that moved on their own. The noises of the city, the sheer number of people walking through the streets, they were an assault on her senses. Everything was bright and loud and different. She then thought of her own city, the beautiful buildings that had been reduced to rubble. The silence of the dead who were still trapped under the rubbles of the Citadel. All the while this place grew in its glory, proud of the blood on their hands. It was sickening.

The second day she finally noticed the winged beings soaring through the sky. All of them collared and bound to the Imperium’s will. She thought of Ryo, who used to suffer the same fate. He had managed to escape only to be murdered by the people who had enslaved him. She remembered the excruciating pain as his death severed their bond. She remembered screaming as she watched an Inquisitor hack off his wings from his dead body.

And now… the third day. Valron didn’t let her enter the city by herself this time. He refused to leave her side even as she walked the streets without telling him what she was planning. At first, Iselya had no idea where she was heading, but there was an undeniable pull that made her keep going south. A familiar presence, something she could not quite describe in her own words.

Her companion was kind enough not to ask her where she was going, but it was hard to ignore the concerned gaze he had latched on her since he caught her shedding a tear when she left the city that first day. He kept his step in sync with her, never letting her get too far ahead.

As they traveled deeper into the city, Iselya had started realizing where this feeling was pilling her towards. After all, she had hours in the airship just staring at the map of Gel’Grandal. Still, just to prove if her theory was right, the pale elf approached the older human manning a newspaper stand. The man was in his late fifties with a friendly smile, so Iselya figured she might as well ask him.

She plastered a flustered smile with ease, looking around left and right as if she was lost. “Excuse me, sir. Can you point me to the direction of the Imperial Plaza? I was told the Obelisk is there.”

“See over there?” The man pointed at the tall black structure peeking out from the top of the buildings. “That’s the Obelisk. A wonder of the world. You will have to see it at least once in your life.”

“Is it?” Iselya asked - there was no need to feign her interest here. She was right. Whatever was calling her had brought them to the main street that would lead straight to the Wintergarten Circle “It must be a marvel to look at.”

His eyes glittered and went on a ramble about how the monument was the pride of every Imperial. The man was kind enough to explain how the city was laid out soon after. He even gave them recommendations should they decide to visit a restaurant in the Wintergarten Circle called Rieger’s.

“I want to see it. The Obelisk. The Palace. All of it,” the Siltori announced to Valron once they left the stall. When he didn’t respond, Iselya simply started walking stubbornly towards the direction the stranger had pointed at.

Without any warning, his hand shot out and wrapped around her arm, forcing her to stop. “Why are you doing this?”

Iselya blinked and gave him the truth. “I don’t know. I really don’t know.” She knew seeing the things Ryo told her about would simply bring back memories of him. After all these years, she had thought she had made peace with her loss. These few days had made it clear her unresolved resentment had simply festered silently. Perhaps all the years of hiding had made her mad and she was just doing something irrationally stupid.

The mixed-blood elf cursed under his breath and let her arm go reluctantly. He knew that look in her eyes. The one that meant no amount of sense could convince her to stop. Sensing that she would get no more arguments for him, Iselya simply gestured so that they could continue walking.

“Come on, Valron,” the woman said impatiently. She was slowly realizing that the pull had radiated from the mark she had received all those years ago and Iselya was starting to have an inkling of what it meant. It would take less than five minutes of walking for them to reach the Circle. She could already see the shops that must be surrounding the Obelisk.

Unfortunately, they never had the chance to get there.

An earthshaking explosion shot out from where the Wintergarten was supposed to be. A wave of silence fell over the crowd around her as every head turned simultaneously, every mind wondering what on earth had just happened. But that wasn’t all. White blinding light suddenly shone brightly at the end of the street, nearly putting the sun to shame.

Instantly, Iselya knew what it was. Who it was.

Such blinding light, such loving warmth. The last time she had seen anything like it was decades ago, but she would never forget it. Her body moved faster than her mind could and the silver elf broke into a run. The pulse of magic had sent most people running away from the plaza and Iselya pushed against the tide, barely noticing as she bumped into countless bodies. Vaguely, she could hear Valron calling out to her, asking what the hell was going on. But she didn’t dare turn away and lose that distinct awareness of him.

Arcas.

She was merely a few hundred yards away from the Circle when the emblem on her stomach suddenly pulsed, the warmth uncomfortable now. The sensation made her stop in her tracks and sent a chill down her spine. Every inch of her body screamed: danger. She could swear that the demigod himself was telling her to stop.

But why? If he really was here, then-

Once again heat radiated from her mark when she took a step forward. It was only then she looked up to the sky and saw the dark wings descending upon the Wintergarten Circle. Dozens of the Kathar and still growing. Her heart sunk. Arcas had revealed his divinity in the heart of the Imperium and she doubted they would simply let this slide.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Valron asked softly when he finally caught up with her. While he might not have the emblem, most Dawnmartyrs would have recognized that light. From this distance, she could see the Kathars surrounding someone. “What are we doing here then? We have to get him.”

Iselya shook her head despondently. The realization pained her but there was nothing else they could do. They were two Dawnmartyrs against the full might of the Imperium. This was not the time. “No, not now.”

She knew they should leave, but her feet felt heavy and her body sluggish. What they came here for was right there. The hope for their order, the hope of ending their life of running and hiding. So close, but just out of reach. A thousand thoughts were racing through her head. What if this was their only chance? What if they whisked him somewhere unreachable after this stunt?

As if reading her train of thoughts, the emblem pulsed in warning once more. Iselya sighed.

Arcas, forgive me. With the whispered prayer, the dark-haired elf turned her back on the demigod and blended into the fleeing crowd, away from the Wintergarten Circle. However, even as she retreated, she could not help but look back, trying to see what would happen for as long as she could.

[Lyra]

A stirring in the air made Lyrielle look up to the sky, the sight of countless pairs of black wings filling the sky almost mesmerizing as they seemed to flap in slow motion. Ear splitting sounds of metal on stone, screams, and the sharp iron taste of blood in the air filled her senses. One of the horseless carriages smashed into the street light near her, toppling it into the crowd of people that surrounded Lyrielle and the other performers. With a few motions Lyrielle danced out of the way, but one of the girls next to her was not so nimble. Glass from lamp at the top of the pole pierced her skin, and one leg was bent at an award angle beneath he weight of the pole and vehicle on top of it. Salty tears of anguish and pain mixed with the visceral stench of fear that now permeated the circle, but Lyrielle's eyes were captured by another one.

Like a butterfly breaking free of its cocoon Talon unfolded himself, and it was a sight. The blinding nimbus of power was more full, more complete than she last saw it, but that was not what the old elf found surprising. To her eyes he was streaked with white and gold, upon his head a crown with no jewels. In six hands he held six items, but all but two were fuzzy and difficult to comprehend. In his left hand he held a set of scales, but in his right was a bloody sword. White turned to black, and swirled deep within the center of his chest, and when his eyes looked toward her Lyrielle shivered and drew back unconsciously.

Everything had come to a stop. The wings of the Kathar did not flap, the cars no longer collided, and though she felt time move Lyrielle herself could not. Her eyes widened when she saw what it was he was doing. He pierced the veil, reaching into the beyond, into the place where all things exist, and began to weave together the magic of creation itself. Though she had left much of her knowledge behind with Rickter, Lyrielle felt an old, instinctual part of herself recognize what it was he was doing, and she felt... annoyed.

If she could shake her head she would have, but instead Lyrielle's eyes fell on the nearest Kathar. She felt her soul crack, and she drew a sliver of herself out. With a breath a small stream of golden smoke flew from her lips, slipping inside the Kathar who was unable to resist. Lyrielle's flicked back to Talon then, and just before she was forced away she wrested control of herself for just a second. As she was teleported she blew the little god a kiss, eyes laughing as her vision went dark.

[Hector]

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

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Hector lacked impulse control on top of being a very curious person. As a result, he is both extremely nosy and meddlesome to the point of being…annoying. His choices aren't always well thought out. Well, actually, they are rarely thought out at all, much less in any way that one could ever consider to be 'well.' The elf had no idea with whom he was messing; like a cat, he enjoyed tipping things over and watching what happened when they fell.

As the scene before him continued to unfold, he was certain of two things. One, he should've sent his aidolon, Tirspi, to fuck with the silver-winged man. Hector had been right– he was too pretty. Those who are too pretty might be surface level boring…but under that tepid surface? The waters run deep, apparently. Two, coordinated or not, the players involved in this scenario knew one another.
Aside from him, that is.

The young vampyre and his companion did not see from where the bolt of magic came. It shot through the air far faster than his eyes could track and struck the Lysanrin– before he knew it, the magic reacted in a volatile, explosive manner, sending a ferocious pulse of anti-magic rolling back through the circle. Magitek devices and any other magic failed to function or blew up as the wave tore through, carrying even his aidolon back with it. The spirit was taken aback, too; it retracted back into Hector's shadow as fast as it could manage.

As the beat of Kathar wings met his ears, Hector felt a hand on his wrist. He didn't react. Vergil’s touch was familiar enough and the scene before him had completely stolen his attention. Then, in a brilliant explosion of divine might, the silver winged Avialae revealed himself for what he truly was: a God. Of what? The elf could only guess, but the symbols in his nimbus gave way a few hints. In an impressive display of his power, everything around him stopped. Hector could no longer move.

Frozen, he felt panic rising within as his mind raced to catch up with the pace of everything around him. The only thing providing him with any stability, at the moment, was the warmth of his mentor's touch. Then, in an instant, the newly revealed God flexed his might once more and several parties in the scene were gone. Some he hadn't noticed prior. The horned one, too, was gone. Truthfully, this was...disappointing…the object of his interest was gone before the two had ever been granted a chance to speak.

Tragic!

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