raiga`s samples

[raiga zero]

XXX◞ SHOW ME HOW DEFENCELESS YOU REALLY ARE
CROWDED STREETS ARE CLEARED AWAY, ONE BY ONE HOLLOWED HEROES SEPARATE AS THEY RUN
XXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINEXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINE
X◣「WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
IF YOU FIND YOUR FAMILY, DON`T YOU CRY - IN THIS LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE, DEAD AND DRY

[raiga zero]

xxxDRIP DRIP DROP ━ LITTLE APRIL SHOWER ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■
runBEATING A TUNE AS YOU FALL ALL AROUND ! WHAT CAN COMPARE WITH YOUR BEAUTIFUL SOUND ↘ ↘
runrun◞ WHEN THE SKY IS CLOUDYxYOUR PRETTY MUSIC WILL BRIGHTEN THE DAY
runrPRETTY LITTLE PITTER PATTER HELTER SKELTER WHEN YOU PELTERrunPITTER PATTER HELTER SKELTER
run!!◣ TROUBLES ALWAYS SEEM TO SCATTER ru ( ☂ ) ru

xno one━rebel groupxxxforest━rebel leaders' tentxxxsomewhat pessimistic,thoughtfulxxxhealthy

It was not very long until a few familiar faces joined them inside the pavilion, although only the most minor of shifts in Basil’s expression signified his thankfulness. After having spent the early dawn hours skittering in the Hyenas’ shadows, he lacked the spirit to match Peter’s playfulness just yet. No doubt the red-haired boy would change this around, as his smiles and laughter had the effect of a slow and creeping contagion. For now Basil would remain stoic and unwavering, as imposing as David and Phillip combined, as strong as the Horned King himself – but this internal self-assurance came to a screeching halt as Ella slinked over to him and pecked his tousled brown hair with absolute gentleness. Even her embrace was soft in a motherly sense, as if she thought he might shatter if she squeezed too much. The public display of affection caused his face to darken a few shades. Well, there went his independence. Still, he could not be mad at her, nor could he lie to himself and say that he did not enjoy the attention. It had been far too long since he’d known the resolute love of a parent.

So he simply remained in her embrace and and shyly muttered a hello, his doe eyes screaming defiance and freedom. “…” Both Phillip and Ella greeted his bad news with comfort, albeit Basil could not accept it completely. It was definitely worth showing his regret over – it could mean the difference between life and death later. But to see Phillip was such a rare and precious event that Basil did not dare to defy him.

“Huh, I see.” He had never met the man Peter referred to as Captain Hook, but by all accounts he seemed like a cruel and twisted figure; very much the antagonist of any children’s tale. Codfish was not the most creative of insults Basil had ever been witness to either, but as the immortal boy across from him explained, it was clearly not a complimentary nickname either. Were old people really salty? It lingered on his mind for a moment, but nonetheless an inquiry that he would not voice here in their current company. Basil grimaced as he listened to the boy’s enthusiastic story about a murdered rat and vengeance. They had disrupted a skunk’s natural cycle, collected rotting fruit and other foul odours, and had directed all of this effort against their own people? “You know, Peter, that you may need those people to help you in the future. Have you never heard the saying, ‘don’t burn bridges’?” the child uttered all of this as politely as he could. As he spoke, Friend Owl turned around on his fur cloak and gazed at Ella with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Basil pouted and leant into Ella’s arms as Peter rebelliously protested his innocence. “We should not be winning amongst ourselves. But then, I suppose … do you have any of this concoction left? You never know how it could come in handy. It could distract the Hyenas and any animals they might have with them.” If the mercenaries had been armed with war hounds the boy wanted to know. Not only were they his ultimate source of terror, but they presented a very real threat to foot-soldiers and even some horses, depending on the situation. They disrupted ranks, were difficult to predict and generally faster than a man with his sword. Their tendency to throw targets to the ground also presented a major issue. Even if their fangs could not get through armour, they already had him at his most vulnerable. It only took one enemy to wander over and take advantage of the situation. Basil heaved a sigh, trying to pull his thoughts away of what a hungry dog could do to human flesh and bone; how much agony it possibly inflicted, and how long Faline must have screamed for mercy.

The brunette uncomfortably pulled at the dark red fabric twisted around his left wrist, a symbol of his alignment with the rebellion. Like the banners outside, it too was withering away from years of exposure to the elements.

[raiga zero]

XXX◞ SHOW ME HOW DEFENCELESS YOU REALLY ARE
CROWDED STREETS ARE CLEARED AWAY, ONE BY ONE HOLLOWED HEROES SEPARATE AS THEY RUN
XXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINEXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINE
X◣「WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
IF YOU FIND YOUR FAMILY, DON`T YOU CRY - IN THIS LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE, DEAD AND DRY
xxxxx██████████ ██████████xx YOU`RE SO COLD BUT YOU FEEL ALIVE
xxxxxxxxxihealthxxxxxxxmana xxxxxxcaleb,(iaera outside)xxxxdrawing roomxxxxsurprisedxxxxtired

Only a few days after his speech in the capitol’s heart, Gavriel had received a letter from none other than the king of Arabast. His ally had wished to meet at the border between their nations, a small and uninhabited island, to discuss the latest development in Regis’ state of affairs. The raven-haired king had a crude idea of what his ally would say: tame the dragons, make them friends rather than foes, forcibly if need be. Arabast was a nation far older than Regis, with generations having dedicated themselves to draconology and wyvern-riding. The serpentine were highly regarded there, but as precious servants rather than equals or deities. Perhaps the ruler of Arabast even wished to offer his forces in exchange for the monsters once they were captured. These thoughts consumed Gavriel during his travels to the island, accompanied by a very small group of elite gryphon masters. If such an offer was made, could he really accept it? Arabast was his ally by treaty, yet to willingly pass over such power into another leader’s hands …

His doubts were not meaningless. Upon arriving at their designated meeting place and lowering their defences, they were betrayed. Gavriel himself was wounded and shackled like an animal once a half-dozen of his guards had been cut down. Despite the gravity of his situation, he knew that he could not just submit himself to this new foe. His son was too young at heart, too indecisive to inherit the throne – the same went for Freya. People were relying on him. With no other options in sight, he turned to the most controversial form of arcana that existed. Blood magic was an art he had mastered years ago, predominantly in secret, out of his never-ending pursuit for power and knowledge. With the energy that kept his body warm, Gavriel manipulated the corpses near his foes. Bones snapped; flesh and muscle jostled and cohered like metal under intense heat. The remains of humans and gryphons alike amalgamated into an abomination beyond description.

The undead chimera had made swift work of many of his foes, albeit a few – the King of Arabast himself among them – fled unharmed. A complete and utter loss in Gavriel’s eyes, but a few of his own guards had survived thanks to his intervention. Whatever happiness he felt over their survival was crushed by the weight that now burdened his shoulders. Arabast had dealt Regis an unforgivable injustice, and would almost certainly follow their failed assassination attempt with an official declaration of war. He had never anticipated fighting on two fronts. With his injury crudely sealed with temporary magic, he directed his men home. He needed to warn his council right away.

xx- - - TIMESKIP

Gavriel and his seven remaining soldiers travelled throughout the night to reach Regis. There was no option but to endure the deteriorating weather as they advanced on the capitol, gryphons straining against tumultuous gales. Their screeches echoed against clouds and rain, rendered into nothingness by the explosive thunder that followed. How ironic it’d be if he was reduced to ash after all of his previous trials, so close to home. Thankfully the Divines did not seem to share his black sense of humour. His gryphon, Thorium, descended onto the cobblestones of the palace courtyard. “We made it.” A tremor rattled his knees momentarily as he dismounted. Sharp pain had flared in his side, but his spell was yet to fade; satisfied that he was not in any immediate danger. The worst of his symptoms were attributes of his exhausted mana pool; he couldn’t seem to find his balance, and it was thanks to a quick knight that Gavriel didn’t end up collapsing.

The alarmed man demanded answers, but for once the king could not find the patience to calm him. Instead he pushed the younger man away, lavender eyes bright with anger. “The royal staff, the magi, the nobles, my family – gather them all in the throne room.” Much to Gavriel’s surprise, his apparent helper refused and pointed out the fact that he was injured. Honestly? “Forget that! I gave you an order, now see it through.” The venom in his tone appeared to be enough of a deterrent. Once his armoured messenger had taken their leave, the king finally entered his palace and escaped the torrential rainfall he had become so accustomed to, dismissing his tired guardians shortly after.

It was only once he was safely indoors that he realised how cold he had become. It was as if his very bones had been transformed to ice, burning the tendons attached. But there was no time to rest and rectify that aspect of his situation. Instead, Gavriel straightened himself and hastened to the throne room. He could only pray that his companions would have ideas on how to approach this latest twist in Regis’ history – or better yet, manage to calm him down. Gavriel was insulted and utterly furious. Whilst he had at least had the courage to openly admit his aggression towards the dragons, these fiends had taken advantage of his trust and had killed men under his care. He wondered if they had intended to manipulate his family too, should his death have come to pass. Arriving at the silent hall, Gavriel glared down his own throne and deliberated.

Divines, what was he going to do? A faint glow pulled his attention away, and he found himself glancing down at the drow antique clasped to his now shivering hand. Embossed in gold, the amber-confined arachnid seemed to … be alive. It was still, yet he could feel its thrum of power against his palm. The crimson arcane seal, almost demonic in fashion, that hung over the stone suggested that he was still in the process of using magic – and indeed he was, siphoning his mana and redirecting it to the savage wound on his side. It was enough to numb the pain and halt the bleeding, but it was only a temporary fix and it had already in in place for hours.

X⇣ YOUR NOBLE KING ↷
xxxxxxxxLET US GO --

[raiga zero]

xxxDRIP DRIP DROP ━ LITTLE APRIL SHOWER ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■
runBEATING A TUNE AS YOU FALL ALL AROUND ! WHAT CAN COMPARE WITH YOUR BEAUTIFUL SOUND ↘ ↘
runrun◞ WHEN THE SKY IS CLOUDYxYOUR PRETTY MUSIC WILL BRIGHTEN THE DAY
runrPRETTY LITTLE PITTER PATTER HELTER SKELTER WHEN YOU PELTERrunPITTER PATTER HELTER SKELTER
run!!◣ TROUBLES ALWAYS SEEM TO SCATTER ru ( ☂ ) ru

xrebel groupxxxrebel leaders' tentxxxthoughtfulxxxhealthy


The brunette observed Phillip as the man spoke. He was correct – their leader was unlikely to have a refined understanding of war strategy. Still, his stomach churned at the mention of the Hyenas. “I suppose that as long as we can smoothly navigate the streets, everything should be fine. Maintaining ranks could become a challenge if ambushed in close quarters. I have a suspicion they’d be experienced in guerrilla warfare.” He was internally thankful for Ella’s tightening embrace, taking the moment to sigh.

Basil tilted his head at the other boy, forcing down the urge to roll his eyes at Peter’s facial expressions. “Peter, we still need them; we need every ally we can get. We do not have the option to be choosy right now.” The way the immortal boy spoke, it seemed that he only felt that the consequences would be limited to himself. ‘If I need suppliers I can talk to the fairies,’ he had said. Did he not realise he was representing the entirety of the rebellion right now? His actions reflected their generals – and they’d all be suffering for his ignorance if he went too far. Still, the ranger kept that to himself, smirking wryly in Peter’s direction when referred to as McPhillip. He touched his own chin thoughtfully. “Alright then. As long as we can get them in a reasonable amount of time, that should do. If not, we’ll have to make do with what we have.” It would be a valuable resource, but time was even more precious. Basil would find his way with or without the extra help – or so he believed. He glanced towards the bronze-skinned woman who entered the tent, Julia, as she broke into an excited speech. The eager childishness in him wished to agree, but his realism caused Basil to remain silent instead. Was he the only one who felt that they were almost hopelessly outgunned?

He observed Phillip as the prince acknowledged her enthusiasm, just a hint of cynicism in his tone. “I could take a pony and scout for you again.” Already, Basil was trying to think up locations that would be ideal for Maleficent or her horde to set up outposts. Nothing came to mind. “Ah, I … am not completely sure if starving the castle out would be entirely effective,” the boy murmured. “I do not doubt that our enemy would expunge anyone not considered absolutely necessary to their cause to make resources last longer, and a large percentage of the Evil Queen’s forces is undead anyway. With it being winter, I think we would be taking more of a blow by attempting a siege.” It was his honest opinion. Basil had marched the frozen depths of the forest and had scouted its borders to observe the village; the weather was nothing but ruthless.

David’s speech was not nearly as stimulating as Vitani’s, but Basil let that go. “If there are messengers, Friend Owl and I can seize whatever information they have. It’s just a matter of identifying them and attacking once they’re away from their allies. As for having the enemy expose themselves …” He bowed his head as he thought, but again was only drawing blanks. It would take weeks for the enemies’ supplies to dwindle, if not even longer due to the resilience of the Queen’s undead.

[raiga zero]

XXX◞ SHOW ME HOW DEFENCELESS YOU REALLY ARE
CROWDED STREETS ARE CLEARED AWAY, ONE BY ONE HOLLOWED HEROES SEPARATE AS THEY RUN
XXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINEXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINE
X◣「WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
IF YOU FIND YOUR FAMILY, DON`T YOU CRY - IN THIS LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE, DEAD AND DRY
xxxxx██████████ ██████████xx YOU`RE SO COLD BUT YOU FEEL ALIVE
xxxxxxxxxihealthxxxxxxxmana xxxxxxeveryone in throne roomxxxxpalace throne roomxxxxcalming down,but anxiousxxxxwounded,exhausted

Thankfully, many of his servants moved with haste. As Evangeline had briefly left him, presumably to alter her attire after the long flight back to Regis, it was none other than Ceacilia drifted to Gavriel’s side. Despite the urgency and stress of their situation, she remained quiet and offered a warm drink. There was something ethereally calming about the delicate elf, and although he could not quite stomach the tea, he was grateful for the gesture. He silently shook his head. Would the fair-haired servant have something along the lines of advice? He could not help but wonder; she was among one of the oldest beings he knew, alongside the talented dwarven blacksmith that served his family. A week ago, she had granted him her perspective on her service … but from her stoic if not pale visage, it seemed that Ceacilia would remain reserved for some time yet. At the very least her kind and dutiful attempt had lifted some of his rage.

Evangeline soon joined him again, uttering soft words of strength as she stood with her unsheathed blade. It was a posture that reflected her resilience and courage – and also her readiness to fight if need be. Rarely had Gavriel seen the foreign blade unsheathed. This, clearly, was a display of her willingness to fight those who had abused Regis’ trust. “I must worry,” he murmured quietly, trying to keep his tone low enough to avoid their company from hearing. Of course, as Ceacilia was an elf, that was impossible. “Arabast is a nation far older and more powerful than Regis. We held our own against them many decades ago with dragons at our side – barely. To face them again, without that added benefit …? And to know that we are, technically, already fighting on a second front with yet more serpentine?” Angry as he was, Gavriel could clearly see the many disadvantages. Regis did have many powerful mages at least, and could afford mercenary armies if absolutely necessary – and then, if forced to an ultimatum, Gavriel had yet more blood and black magicks tucked away in the recesses of his mind. They were without a doubt the underdog in this situation.

He could withdraw the declaration. Negotiate. Satisfy those b*****d reptilians in a way that did not leave his kingdom economically instable, and have them serve him until the bloodshed with Arabast came to a close. A temporary union – and then he could arrange for them to leave and never return to Regis’ islands. But were they really so trustworthy? What was to say that they would not take advantage of his desperation like so many forces before them? The ancient legend of Vortigern and the Saxons was evidence in itself. Gavriel could not help but also entertain the prospect that Arabast, as a dragon-worshipping society, had used these serpents as a key to somehow lower the Regis King’s defences and force him to fight what seemed like two separate armies. The neighbouring kingdom would no doubt see the value in rune crystals, and seemed more likely to use them than mere dragons … but alas, perhaps he was just leaping to conclusions. Maybe he could try to repair relations with the dragons.

Could, but would he? Gavriel felt sick just pondering it. If his suspicions were true and he was in fact facing Zopyros, he knew that things could not be settled so easily between them as a few promises. Blood had been shed by both males. He looked to the knight again as she added that he should fight, if only to guarantee his family’s safety. That was one way of seeing it, but with such a formidable foe, the sagacious king knew there was the possibility of having his son inherit a war instead. Yet there was no way around that risk, was there? Arabast wanted to slaughter his bloodline; he could not just sit by and play politics as they made their advance. He nodded, still searching for words. “We will find a way. We must.” For Aegis and Freya. The words, although far from inspirational and optimistic, were all that came to mind at the moment as he internally scrabbled for notions to overcome this impressive new enemy.

The … curious junior mage entered then, staring blankly at the king like a man possessed. Something about the elf had never just sat right with Gavriel, but of course he was Morrigan’s assistant and not the king’s. Perhaps it was the general awkwardness and lack of respect he seemed to display at every brief meeting they had shared thus far. He was fairly uncomfortable to know that nothing had changed about the ‘young’ elf’s behaviour. At least he had the wisdom to apologise. When Jace referred to a unique feeling, Gavriel merely blinked. Of course; as a mage, he could sense the lingering blood magic he had used to manipulate the chimera some time ago. The corrupted arcana hung in the air around him like a stain eyes could not perceive. Even the dark-haired human could feel the horrible discomfort it left. At least the magic he used now was not evil, albeit it was swiftly exhausting his mana reserves and the pulses from his artefact were turning into painful throbs.

His beloved senior mage was the next to arrive, and despite her cool demeanour he could see the worry in her eyes. He mustered a small but tense smile. Ah, Morrigan. Even now, she provided him some sort of security that no other woman could. She had been the object of his desires since he was a young man – the angel, far from perfect, he could never touch. Although he had never been able to act on his affections due to royal responsibility, he had allowed their friendship to foster. The mild sorrow of knowing they could not be more was worth the many laughs and smiles they had shared throughout the years. And who was he but a fleeting figure in her prolonged lifetime? Despite his position, Gavriel felt he would somehow be disturbing nature to ask for the mage to distance herself from the palace and its mystical tomes. “I am fine,” he whispered calmly, hoping to soothe the dark-haired woman’s alarm. When Dacour glided into the room after her, Gavriel felt his heart sink a little. The blonde male had always been an important figure in Morrigan’s life, and thanks to the king’s confused feelings about her, their untested relationship sometimes felt like, ‘the imposing father and improper suitor’. Of course it was never to actually be this way, thank the Divines. At least Dacour and the king shared a unwavering love for knowledge and magic.

With so many trustworthy individuals standing by, Gavriel believed it was a good time to at least give them a summary of why he had demanded their attention. One hand placed over his burning side, he fixed them all with a frosty gaze. “Our ally has taken advantage of our trust, in hopes of conquering our land. This was no farce orchestrated by a third organisation. The man who confronted us was none other but the king of Arabast.” Gavriel did his best to hide a shiver. “His intentions were evident, and he refused to listen to reason. He seeks to conquer Regis by force.” He at last reached for the tea Ceacilia had made for him, but his eyes moved from his guests to the grand doors opposite to his throne. Although he was glad to have his current company, he could not deny his longing to be reunited with Iaera and his children after (unwillingly) flirting with death.

X⇣ YOUR NOBLE KING ↷
xxxxxxxxLET US GO --

[raiga zero]

CHEW MY ( LOVE ) ⋮ UNDER YOUR TONGUE LIKE IT`S YOUR BUBBLEGUM」
artist
artabandonedYOU`RE BLOWING BUBBLES TIL THE TASTE IS GONEXXYOU`RE BLOWING BUBBLES TIL THE TASTE IS GONE
artabandonedartTHIS IS JUST ONE NIGHT ONE NIGHT ONE NIGHTXXTHIS IS JUST ONE NIGHT ONE NIGHT ONE NIGHT
xxxx▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
《 * JUST SPIT ME OUT ▪ ▪ ▪ ✄ WHEN IT BECOMES MORE THAN FUN

artisneverfinishedcalm,neutral ━ home,outside school ━ eugene, other students

In a few days it would officially be autumn, but already the environment around him was changing. Some leaves were beginning to decrease in vitality, commencing the metamorphosis from vivid shades of green to rich gold and crimson tones. They were such lovely colours, almost sensual in a way; like a woman’s bronze skin, and … ah, red. It reminded him of the events that had shaken all of Cinnamon Creek almost a fortnight ago; had it really been that long already? With the community petrified, it was as if time had come to a complete standstill – almost. Alaric was wise enough to know that life stopped for absolutely no one, a life lesson he had learned with his biological mother’s passing over a decade ago. The years kept rolling by, and people surmounted their tribulations. That was a fact. With that in mind, Alaric had prepared himself for another day at school and descended to the first storey of his father’s home. It was a large building, but each room had been touched by a very small influence – a few stuffed animals were scattered here, a few more dolls over there. His younger half-sister Abbey had been withheld from elementary school thus far due to the shocking murders, and was taking advantage of her freedom.

“You don’t have to go,” Alaric’s father pointed out for the umpteenth time, peering over the edge of his newspaper. “It’s admiring that you want to study, but we have the internet. The school should be organising some online classes.” It was not the first time the man had made such a request, and like each time before it the younger Croft denied the offer. What was done was done, and Alaric would not miss this opportunity for the world; the fleeting chance to see Cinnamon Creek students opposing nature’s dwindling state. The people of this small and quiet town were going to blossom in the face of death, and he would capture that raw emotion in any form he could. The victims were gone, but it was still possible to immortalise their memory.

He prepared for school as quickly as he could after having tried to reassure his father, hoping to escape the awkward environment. At least his younger sister still brought some sunshine to the home, he thought as he wandered across the road and to the thin trail he and dozens of other students had used over the years. She was too young to understand the danger, only in first grade, so had been left in the dark. Was that really the path to recovery? Or was he just being too confident? Probably. There had been no signs that the murderer wouldn’t strike again. It was somewhat difficult to fully focus on that obstacle however as Alaric peered up at the trees lining the path. The thick canopy of leaves was whispering in the wind, and it was a dazzling if not haunting sound due to the lack of birds chirping. It was if nature itself recognised the atrocities that had taken place here in this small town.

Alaric arrived on campus within a few minutes thanks to his home’s proximity, and was crossing the high school’s lawn when he noticed he had been joined by a bubbly young Asian boy. “Morning.” His new companion, although bearing a familiar face, had a name that was evading the artist. ‘Eunice’ … no. He was certain that he had seen the kid the previous year; just one of many students Alaric had never acquainted himself with. Rather than bringing it up, he wandered along at his own leisure and tried to pick out some more familiar faces. One of the first people he recognised was Kieran, who immediately fell back onto his behind. Alaric winced in sympathy for the older boy. Directly in front of such a pretty girl, too! But she dived to his assistance like an auburn-haired angel. As he and ‘Eustace’ approached the pair, the artist realised her voice was as sweet as her face. “Lucky guy,” Alaric murmured to his new friend, glancing down towards him. “Hm … Eugene, right?” Now that had a ring to it.

Rather than stopping to lend Kieran a hand, he left his friend to the heavenly saviour and continued towards the school building. Alaric did at least have the politeness to greet the older lad. “Hey, Kieran.” For all of his poeticism when it came to lust or art, or even both, the brunette lacked any for his friends. Besides, the very last thing he wished to do was stampede on the other senior’s parade and ruin his chances of securing a date. Instead Alaric was fantasizing about how wonderful it would be to shed the extra weight of his satchel once he got to his locker. Who would have thought that a few textbooks could culminate into something so heavy? “Ah.” He hesitated at the school’s entrance, taking note of the vibrant flowers left in memory of the victims. They had been placed carefully around the steps, and no doubt there would be more indoors. Some of the wreaths and bouquets had been replaced the previous night; they remained extremely fresh, their petals too smooth to be fakes. Carefully, Alaric produced his camera and took some photographs, paying no mind to whether or not Eugene continued inside without him.

“It’s intriguing, isn’t it? How something so bright could come out of something so dark,” he wondered aloud.

ooc: the writer's block was strong with this one :c

[raiga zero]

XXX◞ SHOW ME HOW DEFENCELESS YOU REALLY ARE
CROWDED STREETS ARE CLEARED AWAY, ONE BY ONE HOLLOWED HEROES SEPARATE AS THEY RUN
XXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINEXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINE
X◣「WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
IF YOU FIND YOUR FAMILY, DON`T YOU CRY - IN THIS LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE, DEAD AND DRY
xxxxx██████████ ██████████xx YOU`RE SO COLD BUT YOU FEEL ALIVE
xxxxxxxxxihealthxxxxxxxmana xxxxxxtavern groupxxxxtavernxxxxvery upset,furious,stunnedxxxxhealthy

Today was supposed to have been an enjoyable one; he had been looking forward to these markets for some time, having seen rarer resources advertised. Bellblossoms weren’t found in this part of Regis, only in snowy regions, yet here they were; available for poultices and potions. This was just one herb that he had never seen or tasted before – and to think that there were dozens, perhaps hundreds more! He may have been reaching his two hundredth birthday, but Felis was as naïve about the world as most children. The years he had not spent in slavery had been protectively smothered by the likes of Argestes, Zopyros and now Demetrius. Today, he decided, would be different – he was going to learn, with or without the pair now dawdling behind him like disturbed poltergeists. Rain was always a good thing, but this torrential downpour had to be attributed to the boy’s mixture of excitement and annoyance. The way the Fire and Earth dragons moaned, one would think the world was about to come to a crashing halt.

And it almost did, when Zavael taunted him with a so-called offer. The man’s despicable words were coated with some level of malice. Felis paused in the rain, heart skipping several beats. The fire dragon bounded away almost immediately, indicating that it had been a playful tease; the boy on the other hand took it as a threat. For him, intimacy of almost any sort only led to pain and confusion. ‘Don’t,’ was all his mind echoed to Zavael’s, too angry and disturbed to think of anything especially menacing. A loud clap of thunder seemed to mirror his mood, which only worsened as Demetrius began to chatter again. The man was making an attempt to sound ‘happy’, which only backfired as Felis heard cynicism. He growled and squirmed against the man’s tightening grip. “I can walk on my own, you know!” The tumultuous water dragon’s struggles only grew when Demetrius pointed out that he was giving Felis something he desired.

To think, he’d been in such a wonderful mood this morning when he had woken up! Felis was certain that he would still be smiling if Argestes had come along instead of these two cavemen. Unfortunately, with the issue of having his own nest to attend to, the pair didn’t spend as much time together as he would have liked – and when they did, it sometimes felt as if the air dragon was barely paying attention. Rightfully, Argestes had a lot of things to worry about: his hatchling, his own health, and everything involving the dragons as a group. Each of them had so many reasons to fret and agonise. Felis hated it. He hated this loneliness that stemmed from being the only child, forever chained to one of his ‘guardians’. He knew that they did not trust him with his own strength, and although he agreed with them to a point, it still hurt. He wanted to be reliable. He wanted a good friend who did not view him as a purposeless child. He wanted a parent who would love him unconditionally, and not drag him into these situations. Or better yet to be an adult, so that almost all of these issues would be rendered null and he would have attained some respect from his three allies!

Demetrius pushed him indoors and towards a meat stall, and had the man not released him and encouraged him to look around, the water dragon may have exploded. He fixed the raven-haired ‘elf’ with sharp crimson eyes. “Look, if you do not wish to be here, then just go. I want to have fun, and you are … you are not helping.” Felis lacked the courage to go further, pointing out that all of Demi’s scowling was just making the boy angry and anxious. Was this seriously all just because of the rain?! It was just water! Divines, Demetrius pouted like his ‘precious’ clothes were dissolving on his body! Felis placed a gloved hand over his face, willing himself to breathe. He was only antagonising himself at this point, further fuelling his own anger with excuses. He was finally at the markets; it was time to … try and enjoy himself. Zavael had already made a rush for the meat stalls, and the elven woman closest to them seemed busy with another customer.

He continued drifting in Zopyros’ vague direction, squeezing through the clustered pathways and merely hoping that Demetrius was able to follow. It was incredibly busy and that both excited and terrified him – however, all of his fears seemed to disappear when he began to reach the jewellery stalls. These were technically the least useful, as gems were merely for show, but there was something utterly hypnotic about these stones … even more so when they were set in gold and silver. He was so intent on one sapphire in particular that he failed to notice someone in front of him. The collision was only small, but enough to cause Felis to drop his tome. “A-ah – apologies!”

X⇣ YOUR GENTLE WATER DRAGON ↷
xxxxxxxxLET US GO --

[raiga zero]

XXXTRANSVERSA INC. ↷ FACTION LEADER
la▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄x▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄x▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄x▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄x▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄x▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄x▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄x▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄x▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

XxBUT WHEN TRUTH OF YOU COMES CLEAR (. SO CLOSE⋮I WISH MY LIFE HAD NEVER COME HERE (. SO CLOSE
x◣ THE MISSING PIECE I YEARN TO FIND❜ ; SO CLOSE SO CLOSE SO CLOSE
xx「PLEASE CLEAR THE ( ◞ ANGUISH ) FROM MY MIND ━ ⇣
xxxTHROUGH DARK AND LIGHT I FIGHT TO BE (. SO CLOSE⋮SHADOWS AND LIES MASK YOU FROM ME (. SO CLOSE
xxxxx██████████ ██████████xx YOU`RE SO COLD BUT YOU FEEL ALIVE
xxxxxxxxxihealthxxxxxxxpowerxxxxxxtransversa team,mafiaxxxxcitadel harbourxxxxuncomfortable,stoic,angryxxxxhealthy
███████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████



Their resident demon, Julien, arrived shortly after Alice’s unexpected appearance. Unsurprisingly he treated the situation with a level of calm and amusement, going so far to ask Gretchen about her new ‘friend’. Lawton remained quiet, gazing at the intruder sternly. It certainly wasn’t standard protocol to just have her show up, much less without some sort of safe word or proof of ID. Not their enemy, hm? She was talking to a man who didn’t trust information on food packaging. He had been lied to countless times throughout his substantial lifetime, and the woman’s soft pouting was not helping her cause. Nevertheless the commander could see that there were more pressing issues at hand. He did not have the time, nor the resources, to send her back to Transversa’s headquarters and have her background checked. He had been assigned a mission and he was going to see it through before anything else. And despite Gretchen’s wariness, Lawton was not going to answer to his superiors today about why someone had been shot in broad daylight.

A million questions were racing through his mind; minute pieces of data from various missions across the years, swirling about in the computer that now made up the vast majority of his brain’s frontal lobe. He wanted a social security number, a visa, criminal history – all of it. Perhaps the most disappointing part of this conundrum was that he had been left in the dark, much like his subordinates. This, he decided, would not occur again. He may have been Transversa’s dog, but he had learned to take control of the leash in a few instances when it came to improving policy. Whilst Gretchen did submit to his order and lowered her weapon, he could sense the doubt and displeasure in her voice in stance. The leader glanced at her. Yes, his own superiors were definitely going to be hearing about this – and this ‘Alice’ was going to receive more than just a mouth full as well, as soon as the mission was completed. He hated inefficiency, and that stemmed from a group being unable to cooperate. A team needed conviction in one another. Although the brunette was making an effort in soothing her new companions, even going so far to admit she was not the most mature of individuals, Lawton was not convinced.

Ugh, everything about this felt so unprofessional it left him nauseous –

There was the distinctive screeching of tires as a vehicle, far from out of control, stormed towards the bay. It took out the thick steel gates as if they were made of chicken wire and promptly bounced over a blockade. Immediately Lawton’s gloved hands had unholstered his pistols from underneath his arms, flicking off the safety on both. “…” He didn’t recognise that vehicle and had yet to attain a proper glimpse their assailants. Rather than stopping, the driver slammed his ride into one of the convoy vehicles and caused it to spear into the water. Whoever was driving was experienced and had a plan in mind. Like his companions, Lawton opted to take cover from the hail of gunfire rather than try to withstand it. Now that would be imprudent. And speaking of being foolish: it seemed like their opponents were wasting no time in throwing away their ammunition. Whatever this was, one thing was clear: these people wanted to get in and out as swiftly as possible. To make things more interesting, Alice looked at him with an expression he could only describe as ‘excited’. “Wait!” he snapped, but she ignored him, rushing off in pursuit of the other convoys. A sensation of dread settled in his stomach. If she had in fact lied about her identity and got away with whatever the heck was inside that case, he and his team would be utterly ruined.

Breathe. Focus. There was still more than enough time to sort organise everything, he decided. First they would have to deal with these bastards chewing up the lawn with bullets. “Badou, Jessibella; the first chance you get, I want you to go after that girl and obtain the case. For all of her chatter I don’t trust her with it.” Especially since she had just rushed off and abandoned them here, contrary to Lawton’s orders. Badou with his feline-like grace and Jessibelle with her incredible psychic abilities would be more than a capable duo of defending the case, and Alice if she decided to cooperate, until the remainder of their team could catch up. . More importantly, with their relationship status, he felt he could depend on the pair to make their own decisions whilst he was busy rather than bickering. “Gretchen, Borris, Julien and I will deal with this as quickly as we can.”

From his current position, Lawton focused on providing cover fire and trying to keep the majority of the group within their militarised minivan. This, of course, had its flaws – while it kept them from achieving their plan, the vehicle was clearly still operable. Were they planning to use this for their escape, as well? The first person to escape was a young red-haired man who went straight for the guardhouse. Somewhat concerning, but he clearly didn’t recognise the real threat here. The next to follow was significantly more worrying. How could he not know about the infamous mafia leader? Although much about the man and his personal life remained enigmatic, he had been enough of an issue to anger not only Transversa but the cyborg himself. The man’s state of calm was somewhat infuriating as well. But here was an opportunity to right every wrong about this scene. ‘Admirable that he wants to help his goons, but he’s only made this a lot easier.’ Lawton was passionate about his work, but this inspired him even more – they could protect this convoy and take down one of the most despicable men in the city at the same time. Lifting one hand to his ear, he opened a line of communication to combat the thunder of gunfire. “Cabrero’s here. Dead or alive; take your pick.” Alive would be beneficial from an investigative standpoint, but the cyborg wasn’t about to further risk this mission or Transversa’s security over this sleaze.

He was now returning the fire, his attention now focused on the behemoth that had just stepped out of the driver’s seat. Although it was the Mafioso’s head he desired, this walking big-foot was between Lawton and his current goal – that bus. If they did indeed plan to use this as an escape route, then he needed to render it unworkable. They were in Transversa territory now; if they could not get out quickly, it would become a siege situation that could only end badly for the criminals. “Gretchen, cover me.” Firing swift rounds of suppressive fire at the blond titan to stop him from getting too close, Lawton charged the armoured vehicle. There had not been much distance between him and it to begin with, and so the sprint was fairly short – but the cherry on top was the car’s major obvious flaw. It was so high up on those ridiculous wheels that its centre of gravity was high, and like a monster truck on television, was tipped onto one side with comparative ease thanks to his enhanced strength. The next part was disabling that drive shaft – if the hooligans would give him the seconds required to tear it out.

ooc: sorry for the late reply everyone! december's been absolutely crazy with all the fam/enrollment stuff going on here.
anyway i hope this post is okay, if anything needs editing let me know~ i figure that if you guys do want to stop lawton
from ruining the truckbby, all it needs is to be pushed back up onto all fours; with biggs that shouldn't be too hard XD

[raiga zero]

XXX◞ SHOW ME HOW DEFENCELESS YOU REALLY ARE
CROWDED STREETS ARE CLEARED AWAY, ONE BY ONE HOLLOWED HEROES SEPARATE AS THEY RUN
XXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINEXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINE
X◣「WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
IF YOU FIND YOUR FAMILY, DON`T YOU CRY - IN THIS LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE, DEAD AND DRY
xxxxx██████████ ██████████xx YOU`RE SO COLD BUT YOU FEEL ALIVE
xxxxxxxxxihealthxxxxxxxmana xxxxxxeveryone in throne roomxxxxpalace throne roomxxxxpensive,uncomfortable,determinedxxxxwounded,exhausted

Ceacilia and Evangeline were both correct. This was not a room of mere soldiers and magi; these people had hearts of steel. Their resolve would not be so quickly shattered, and so long as they stood, Gavriel knew that he must as well. That was his obligation as king; not to fool about in luxury as most would assume, but to give his strength to his servants at all times, even when there seemed to be none left to grant. How selfless of them to offer their support now, even as a militarised titan loomed over them. From some, the loyalty was not unexpected; Morrigan, Dacour and Fal’Andra and dedicated several human lifetimes to Regis and the surrounding lands. As the dark-haired elf murmured quietly, admitting that she did not wish to see him perish, Gavriel smiled and looked away. Moments like these never got easier. But their friendship was one thousand times more valuable than a reposed heart. With the exception of Fal’Andra, Mage Delerith often was the only reminder of his life before Zopyros’ intrusion and his own obsession with magical supremacy. She gave him a semblance of tranquillity and light-heartedness when compared to Ceacilia, who gifted him focus and self-confidence. He watched as the woman returned to the other elves, looking uncomfortable with the news. No doubt the older beings believed that the greediness of men was behind all of this; that humans were solely to blame for the bloodshed that would no doubt occur.

Or perhaps that was his own bitterness speaking. Since he had been but a small child, he had admired elves of all walks of life: high elves, moon and sun elves, wood elves, and even the dark elves known as drow. They were creatures of wisdom and elegance, individuals tied to the forces of nature in ways that infantile humans could never mimic. But with his respect, Gavriel had soon recognised that there was also something of a racial divide that they could perhaps not overcome, not because of ignorance but because of man’s fleeting lifespan. Elves would watch generations upon generations of human beings pass into the next life, and so would be exposed to emotions and warfare at an accelerated rate. All existences in a world such as this one would be dealt tragedies, but perhaps most of all mankind due to their ephemeral durations. Still, it was a wonder that the elves and sometimes the dwarves dealt with this at all. As sad as it made the king, man was but a child to them.

His thoughts, which were now beyond off-topic, came to a crashing halt as his daughter rushed into the hall and cried out for healers. The volume of her voice and the panic in her expression immediately caused Gavriel to straighten. “Freya, my darling, relax.” His own daughter’s distress only solidified his concerns. So long as Arabast wished to pursue Regis and its supplies, her life would be at risk; and that utterly destroyed the king. To attempt to defend her life through war did not remove the threat against her. “…” Rather than immediately answering her questions he reached out, pulling her into a weak embrace. Aegis, too, would be a target of their enemy’s cruelty. And Iaera. And every citizen, strong or weak, cunning or hopeless. The fate of this kingdom rested on his shoulders, for now – for his entire arcane prowess, he was still just a man. His mortality would be his undoing one way or another. “Arabast has declared war against us, and attempted an assassination. But we managed.” Most of us. Gavriel relinquished his grip on her to instead tuck a stray lock behind her ear. He would not lie to her, as awful as this truth was.

He had not wanted healers, and that probably did not come as a surprise to those who knew him well. As a prince, he had been raised to be the very epitome of independence; any vulnerability or desire to rely on another (with the exception of careful politics) had been scolded out of him before he’d reached his first decade. So when Lilucia knelt before him and requested to see his wound, he was reluctant to accept. His lack of enthusiasm was only enhanced by the fact that so many people were in this throne room with them. To begin with he said nothing, watching as the fair-haired girl prepared pills and water. “… very well.” Looking briefly at his daughter, he accepted the painkillers and swallowed them. Perhaps he and his daughter were not so different after all, albeit their roles were temporarily switched and he was being the uncooperative one. “If you require me to remove this spell, please let me know.”

His eyes landed on his daughter once more, cogs now turning inside of his mind as he searched for solutions. He could not focus on two wars at once, and with a week’s worth of advice from numerous parties, he had recognised his flawed thinking; perhaps negotiations should have been his first choice of action, although he trusted these creatures less than the emissaries of foreign merchants. “Freya …” he began, pale lavender eyes lingering on her crimson ones. She needed to be able to defend herself and support her brother in the circumstance that Gavriel perished. They needed more power, regardless of everyone’s determination. “… Freya, would you make peace with the dragons?” The question must have been a surprise as their topic was supposed to be about Arabast, not the serpents that troubled the city. But it was his daughter’s own strength that had made him consider otherwise. He could see the tenacity in her fiery orbs; that same attitude he had been faced with again and again. Ignoring their guests and even the healers for a moment, he stroked his child’s dark hair affectionately. “You may be a key in ending this … you’ve the compassion, the determination and the spirit ... yes, I believe in you. I always have.” Aegis would always be his son and heir, and for his indecisiveness Gavriel knew that he would be a fair and gentle king. As for his daughter’s inheritance …

The king took both of Freya’s hands in his own. “I wish for you to receive my bond with Aegaeon; to tame it, and soothe the troubles of it and its serpentine brethren whilst I deal with Arabast.” Aegis too would be of invaluable help to her; this quest Gavriel was proposing was still dangerous, and it hurt him to think of his own children communicating with those monsters … but then he remembered the guidance he had received in the last several days. Perhaps they were not beasts, but merely misled by their own hardships. That they were to be respected and, first and foremost, war should have been his very last choice. But Gavriel would have to wait on her answer first. If she did indeed accept, these would be her first steps of true liberation as an adult, as well as the beginning of ultimate responsibility.

X⇣ YOUR NOBLE KING ↷
xxxxxxxxLET US GO --

[raiga zero]

[raiga zero]

QUOTH THE RAVEN; " NEVERMORE. "
Somewhere nearby, his queen was meeting with the untrustworthy king Charles Montgomery, as well as his equally distasteful queen. He had heard enough of them both to understand that they were as sly as serpents; ironic, as the man himself was often compared to a lion. Artyom supposed that just came with being a child of the Pridelands. Although his charge had been eager to accept their request to meet, even the diplomatic raven had felt doubtful. An alliance could potentially benefit them; it suggested that there’d be no internal violence between their forces and that he and Maleficent both no longer would have to regard them as foes. It was one less opponent in the dark fairy’s long list of enemies … yet it did not soothe his heart.

His queen, he knew, was vulnerable. Her heart had been poisoned by the death of a man to whom Artyom had owed no loyalty, and although he was silently glad to see the warmongering Hades dead, the raven knew she was suffering. They would prey upon that. So why was he not lingering by her side to quietly advise her? Indeed it was against his character to distance himself from the woman whilst she was presented with such an important decision, but he had to remember that this was Maleficent. She was an independent woman and a cunning individual herself; he did not doubt that she would stand her ground against people such as Charles and Isabella Montgomery. Artyom had his suspicions that their peace treaty would only last so long as it benefited the inhabitants of Cinderella’s palace. Once the third party in this clash of forces was removed, he believed that they would not hesitate to betray Maleficent’s trust; anything to gain an advantage against her and her powerful magic.

Even this meeting was evoking anxiety in the usually calm raven. Rather than granting his queen comfort by approaching her in her own palace, they had asked to meet in the frosted woodlands to discuss their opportunities for a truce. There was potential for an ambush in such an agreement. For that reason he had asked his ally and good friend Zavael to safeguard their mistress whilst he scoured the surrounding trees for threats in his swifter and more agile raven form. Artyom was far more susceptible to the winter cold in this form, but not sworn to death just yet. Whilst most birds migrated to avoid the ice, ravens could outlast even winter through their opportunistic behaviour. Even the darkness of his feathers would allow for him to absorb more heat from the sunlight – or rather, what little of it penetrated the leafy canopy.

The forest was strangely quiet, not at all matching his anticipation. There were no soldiers waiting in the underbrush to strike out and claim Maleficent’s life. Instead even the animals had abandoned their posts, no doubt attuned to sound of the horses converging nearby. Nevertheless Artyom waited until satisfied, his thin claws trembling against the damp bark of his selected branch. Perhaps he had just been overly cautious after all. Finally choosing to relinquish his guard and join the others once more, he spread his long ebony wings and started back towards the designated meeting place. As Artyom flew, the enchanted ring Maleficent had crafted for him rattled around his thin ankle and drew his thoughts back to his queen. The enemy was known to enlist the aid of the dead; did that have something to do with their promise of fealty?

With the wind on his side, it was only a matter of moments before his allies came into view. Zavael was on horseback and had favoured to go without his armour. An interesting decision, the bird thought as it swooped down and pluckily landed on the Horned King’s arm. It seemed he had arrived just in time, for Montgomery was taking his leave and Maleficent was acknowledging her own people again. As she drew near, Artyom opted to leave his friend and fasten himself to Maleficent’s slender shoulder instead, nuzzling her jaw briefly with a smooth, feathery brow. A soft caw on his behalf signalled the fact that he was finally mollified with their safety. Clearly she was not too shaken by what had just happened, and Artyom watched as she gently taunted Aurora on the topic of ‘true love’. So, the princess finally had learned of Phillip’s true fate.

It was about time. Now came the interesting part – what she would do with this information, and how it would impact Maleficent, himself, and even Zavael. He and the swordsman had been friends for a long time now, cooperating particularly well thanks to their usual laidback attitudes, but it was clear the Horned King had some sort of interest in Aurora. Romantic? Sexual? Neither? The raven did not know and nor did he particularly care; he couldn’t possibly empathise with such feelings at the moment. But there was no point in worrying until they came to that hurdle, if Aurora’s feelings for Phillip ever did culminate into a major issue. So for now he merely perched on his mistress’ delicate body, observing the small cluster of warriors who fell into step behind her. The blank-faced man once known as King Arthur; the straight-faced but pale archer; and Zavael, who seemed more interested in his demons than the lack of fighting so far. What a wonderfully ragtag group – though Maleficent would probably disagree.

He waited to see what the queen’s pace would be. If it was slow, he would transform and walk alongside; if it was swift, he would restrain himself and speak to them once they arrived at their destination.

[raiga zero]

xxxDRIP DRIP DROP ━ LITTLE APRIL SHOWER ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ ■
runBEATING A TUNE AS YOU FALL ALL AROUND ! WHAT CAN COMPARE WITH YOUR BEAUTIFUL SOUND ↘ ↘
runrun◞ WHEN THE SKY IS CLOUDYxYOUR PRETTY MUSIC WILL BRIGHTEN THE DAY
runrPRETTY LITTLE PITTER PATTER HELTER SKELTER WHEN YOU PELTERrunPITTER PATTER HELTER SKELTER
run!!◣ TROUBLES ALWAYS SEEM TO SCATTER ru ( ☂ ) ru

rebel group━no onexxxrebel leaders' tent━forestxxxalarmed,focused━healthy

Their situation seemed to shift entirely as David called for them to move west, away from the potential threat of the two converging titans. Maleficent and Charles Montgomery, sometimes referred to as Scar. It left him with chills. Both of these people, along with others who served them, had earned Basil’s spite throughout the four years since his family’s tragic end. To know they were so close was both horrifying and exhilarating – and to know that they had no option other than to evade them was utterly heart-wrenching. He would avenge the people who had suffered at their claws … but not today. Nodding to the initial request to scout ahead and remain wary, he adjusted his leather gloves and exchanged a swift glance with Friend Owl. It hooted, naïve to the danger that laid ahead. Ah, language barriers. In that moment, Basil wondered how nice it would be to remain blissfully ignorant. The fawn did not fail to notice Ella’s distress either, glimpsing her brief attempt to soothe the prince’s outburst. Belle’s appearance was a small relief, but her fascination with the blue jay made her appear far too sprightly for Basil’s tastes at the moment. He watched as the others slowly dissipated, and found himself following them. He would need to prepare himself before going out again.

Food and some water was his first priority; as a scout, Basil believed that remaining within a reasonable distance of the army was paramount, but the weaving forest and harsh weather would not promise things would go so smoothly. It could be days between revisiting his companions to exchange information – perhaps even longer, as Friend Owl’s flight was far more efficient than his own two feet. He collected dark bread and tough cheese, stowing the ingredients in his pack. The boy was in the process of counting his arrows when approached by David once more. His small ears were blushing from the bitter cold, but that did not stop him from hearing David’s specific orders: to retrieve Belle. Hadn’t she been with them just a moment ago? “Right.” He bowed his head quickly, the gesture symbolising his unspoken oath. He’d have to keep the intelligent, albeit sometimes scatterbrained girl out of harm – or at least, that was how she seemed. With the enemy on the prowl so close by, the prospect left his heart hammering.

But how hard could it be? In such a short expanse of time, she couldn’t have moved very far. He stood and strapped his quiver to his waist, catching a swift sighting of Ella nearby. Something seemed slightly off, but the woman was smiling, so he shook off his internal concern and took off into the forest.

It was cold, but moving with speed helped to suppress the icy burn in his limbs. The moss was as slippery as ever, but the soles of his boots at least had some grip to them – unlike the typical rider’s shoe, which was kept smooth to avoid getting caught on stirrups in the case of an emergency. Through ferns and underbrush, across mud and small blotches of ice, and under logs too thick to clamber over; his pursuit of the wise woman was swift and relentless. He knew the forest surrounding the camp like the back of his hand, despite its few indistinguishable features to the untrained eye. How many hours in the past weeks had he spent amidst these trees, shivering away in this steady drizzle? “Belle?” he called, gripping onto a tree’s branch as he descended a slope. “Belle, where are you?”

[raiga zero]

QUOTH THE RAVEN; " NEVERMORE. "
They had arrived back at the camp, and what a welcome sight it was. The weather, much to his chagrin, did not appear as if it would improve at all; but he knew he would survive. A little snow would not slaughter him, especially as he was Maleficent’s right hand and therefore was somewhat entitled to her force’s supplies – particularly a cloak and some food. He remained on his mistress’ shoulder until she dismounted from her horse outside the house she had claimed, and once she was inside, Artyom peered with beady eyes at the tents surrounding them. Together, the legions of the living and the undead intermingled into a single united force. It was awe-inspiring and rewarding to see Maleficent’s power had spread so far, but army’s violent undertones ruined the spectacular image.

He flew up to the second storey from where he had perched on the ground, using his deft talons to unhinge a shutter and clamber inside. Once on the floorboards, Artyom transformed. Initially, the experience hurt – it was as if strong hands had wrapped around his wings and feet, pulling with the intention to dislocate. Muscles were ripped and relocated; feathers were forced out of his skin to litter the ground beneath him. His ebon beak reduced to a soft human nose, and his jaw developed the teeth trademark to his grins. The shifts between forms never became any easier … but having grown familiar with such magic over the years, he had learned not to complain. With a soft sigh, he observed his surroundings, designated the room as sleeping quarters, and made a hasty exit. It certainly wasn’t his room, and he wasn’t about to scrounge about just to see who’d been drooling into the bed’s pillow.

Thankfully the conversions did not force him to relinquish his clothes. In his normal human body, without the benefit of his enchanted ring, he had a rugged exterior at best. His thick leather boots creaked and thudded against the floor as he made his way downstairs towards one part of the house he’d claimed his own: the basement. For what was a nicer companion in down time than a bottle of wine? It didn’t take Artyom very long to locate something to drink. Whilst he adroitly removed the cork with the dagger strapped to his waist, he briefly considered hunting Zavael and asking the man how things had gone. At least he wouldn’t sugarcoat things … but the softest, most sultry of calls from above demanded his attention instead. Blinking, the man made his way back up the staircase and towards his mistress’ room. The raven had the foresight to bring the sweet liquid with him, more so for Maleficent’s benefit than his own.

He found her sitting on the edge of her bed, adorned in a dark dress. Her hair was still somewhat damp, and her skin no doubt radiated the warmth of the bathwater she had just left behind. Even so, as Artyom closed the door behind him, he grasped one of the fae’s fur cloaks that was hanging nearby. “Alas, we’d be in quite a pickle if you were to fall ill now,” he teased with a grin, slinging the cape over her slender shoulders as he drifted closer. “A running nose hardly suits your poise.” With his charge now wrapped in something warm, he took a small swig from the wine bottle and leant against the wall opposite her. He had to wonder, what had Montgomery said? More importantly, what had Maleficent replied with – and was she satisfied with the results? He bit back his torrent of questions, bright eyes lingering on his mistress’ sharp and beautiful features. If she wanted to relax and forget what had just transpired, then that was what he would assist her with. It was not Artyom’s place to dredge up undesired worries just now.

But in a few hours, after a nap? Oh, certainly. He was patient, but he did expect information.

[raiga zero]

XXX◞ SHOW ME HOW DEFENCELESS YOU REALLY ARE
CROWDED STREETS ARE CLEARED AWAY, ONE BY ONE HOLLOWED HEROES SEPARATE AS THEY RUN
XXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINEXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINE
X◣「WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
IF YOU FIND YOUR FAMILY, DON`T YOU CRY - IN THIS LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE, DEAD AND DRY
xxxxx██████████ ██████████xx YOU`RE SO COLD BUT YOU FEEL ALIVE
xxxxxxxxxihealthxxxxxxxmana xxxxxxaegis,dreyxxxxmarketxxxxextremely anxiousxxxxhealthy

At some point he had become separated from Demetrius, and he earnestly had no clue as to whether or not the man was a few feet behind him or if they had been completely segregated. For the first time in what seemed like years, Felis did not care. The earth dragon and his poor mood could skulk back to Argestes in the mountains, for all he cared; this was the leviathan’s first chance in a long time to be truly independent. As he wandered along, gazing at fine goods and clutching his tome to his chest as if it was a lifeline, he internally encouraged himself. The other dragons could not trust the demon deep within Felis’ heart, but he himself would have to accept that facet to his personality if he was ever to tame the creature known as ‘Aegaeon’. Although they shared a body, it felt as if he and the dragon were two completely different personalities – but that was not the case. The cerulean-haired boy Regis had come to know was merely the image of self-control. Rage, terror and panic revealed a much more dangerous character.

When Felis unexpectedly collided with another person, his nastier self was almost exposed. His heart skipped a beat as his spell-book fell to the ground. Its pages contained notes that would allude to his true heritage, so if it fell into the wrong hands … It seemed the Divines were finding amusement in his anxiety, because out of the many hundreds attending this market, Felis had bumped into none other than the prince himself. Aegis’ familiar face caused the serpent to freeze in his tracks. What should he do? “U-uh …” The young man recognised him as well, slowly kneeling to scoop the volume off the wet ground. “I apologise, your majesty, I did ... I did not r-realise …” He took the item as it was offered to him, mind scrabbling to remember the ridiculous name he had been assigned one week ago. He pressed the white sleeves of his robe against the damp parchment, but his crimson eyes were fixed on Aegis. “You’re not hurt, are you?” He seemed very stiff, fuelling the boy’s dread.

He was considering a few escape options, fighting against his desire to stay and help the young human, when a third individual happened across them. Shrouded in a long dark cloak, the word ‘imposing’ seemed to suit – even more so when Felis gazed into the cowl and saw the face of a drow. They were an infamous species for their competitive and violent culture, and one kind of elf that he had never stumbled across. Unable to summon any words straight away, he watched as the man kindly offered to dry his book before any irreparable damage was done. Despite the racial suspicion towards drow and dark elves, there was something inarguably gentle about this person. Now Felis was faced with a troubling decision: place his secrets into the hands or another, or ultimately make himself more suspicious? “…” He silently nodded and passed the tome over, heart aching with doubt. As he did so, he spied Zavael trudging about nearby. The man appeared to be in quite the huff, but the water dragon tried to call upon him nonetheless, reaching out with his own psyche.

Now was the time to remain calm, yet no matter how evenly he tried to inhale, his heart hammered at his ribcage. If the drow glanced in that book, he could see – or if he used his magic to drain the book of water, Felis’ marks of servitude would appear. At this proximity, it was inevitable, even with such basic arcana or mystica. Perhaps he should have just stayed with Demetrius after all; clearly he was no good on his own …

X⇣ YOUR GENTLE WATER DRAGON ↷
xxxxxxxxLET US GO --

[raiga zero]

XXX◞ SHOW ME HOW DEFENCELESS YOU REALLY ARE
CROWDED STREETS ARE CLEARED AWAY, ONE BY ONE HOLLOWED HEROES SEPARATE AS THEY RUN
XXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINEXXYOU`RE SO COLD; KEEP YOUR HAND IN MINE
X◣「WISE MEN WONDER WHILE STRONG MEN DIE
IF YOU FIND YOUR FAMILY, DON`T YOU CRY - IN THIS LAND OF MAKE BELIEVE, DEAD AND DRY
xxxxx██████████ [██████████color=white]xx YOU`RE SO COLD BUT YOU FEEL ALIVE
xxxxxxxxxihealthxxxxxxxmana xxxxxxeveryone in throne roomxxxxpalace throne roomxxxxsurprised,thoughtfulxxxxwounded,exhausted

Gavriel was engrossed in his daughter’s faltering expression and nothing else. She appeared stunned by his proposition, and it seemed that she would decline and perhaps recommend Aegis instead. His son was a wise man and a gentle soul, but his aversion to the practice of magic and his predetermined inheritance had made him the king’s second choice. Freya had the iron heart and persistence required to force these serpentine into listening, he knew – why, Gavriel had been subjected to her staunch attitude a thousand times over. He watched as she looked about at the remaining figures in the throne room, searching their eyes for encouragement. Then, at last, the princess gave her final answer. The words forced the air out of his lungs in the form of a quiet sigh. He was both relieved and burdened. From now on, his daughter would be carving her own path into history; with hope, it would be as a tamer of dragons and a diplomat between several vastly different species.

Rather than speaking, he gently kissed her forehead. Words could not surmise the sentiments he was experiencing right now.

He had been uncomfortable with the healer to begin with, but as he sat and allowed her to access his injury more easily, he soon began to feel the familiar tingle of mana. Initially he opened his mouth to stop her, but bit back the command. He should have been more explicit in stating that he had not desired magical assistance. He of all individuals had to know that arcana was sometimes an unpredictable substance, even in one’s own hands. With the recent attempt on his life, it was even more difficult to place his trust into this girl. He had a vague idea of who she was; a healer in training with a unique gift, but beyond that …? She was a stranger, a barely-familiar face. Why was his lead healer not taking care of this situation, instead? Gavriel urged himself to relax, and instead observed as the pain in his side dwindled significantly. To his concern, a dark stain was appearing on the girl’s dress.

He wanted to stop her, but was there a risk to disrupting her? As he weighed his odds, increasingly worried by the girl’s own loss of blood, his wife hastened into the throne room. Iaera’s distress was one of the few things capable of distracting him it seemed. As the elf reached out for his hand he took hers, squeezing the delicate fingers in a gentle and reassuring gesture. “My darling …” he murmured as her free hand ghosted across his face. Hot tears brimmed his queen’s eyes. Her presence diverted his attention only briefly however, as the healer soon withdrew and recommended bedrest. Considering that she was the one now notably injured, it was a bitterly ironic statement.

“I thank you for your help, but you must receive treatment yourself now.” Gavriel glared at that the rest of his infirmary staff, somewhat frustrated that they were packing rather than attending to one of their own. Even if the girl’s injury was not to the same extent as his had been, it was their duty to tend to her agony. “See to it that she receives the best care,” he murmured to the healer in command. He was still astounded by how calm they all were.

With some effort he rose from his throne and turned to the allies who now waited nearby. “You are all dismissed. If new information comes to light, I shall send it via messenger.” There was nothing else he could share with the people around him, with the exception of his family. Turning to his wife and daughter, he took their hands and gently guided them towards the nearest exit. The physical contact was a small relief; mere hours ago he had wondered if he would have the blessing to see them again. “Iaera, I have chosen Freya to inherit my bond with Aegaeon. Arabast has betrayed us, and we cannot afford to be fighting on two fronts. I believe that together our children can reconcile with the dragons and reach a peaceful solution.”

He glanced to the younger girl, fixing her with a serious gaze. “I believe it would be in your best interests to later meet with Dacour and Morrigan and consult them on the events involving Zopyros and Aegaeon; they were both present and may be of better use than I. They also are wiser when it comes to general information on dragons. But first we must complete the ritual. I must ask again, are you certain? Once the link is forged, you will receive many of his emotions and thoughts in the form of dreams – or perhaps more, if your telepathic connection flourishes. He is a restless soul.”

ooc: ew so much writer's block

X⇣ YOUR NOBLE KING ↷
xxxxxxxxLET US GO --