Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Unfortunately the twins are blocking out all my James muse so this is going to be very crappy.... >.<))

James nodded in thanks, taking back the scythe and laying it gently on the ground next to him. He didn't trust himself in the ways of practical magic, so he'd just get the, from where they were sitting, invisible sketchbook himself when he was at least a bit dry. If he'd tried to have just done that he would have dropped the scythe into the pond. He shivered again, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.

He gave the Elven girl a half-hearted smile before looking down at the ground again. He still wasn't in an incredible mood, and he still felt -really- guilty about snapping at her. And he would continue to feel guilty for several hours... or days. Depending on how long he stayed in the slump. He would just do a better job at hiding it. Just a little anyway....

The changing of his eyes had begun to slow down, but hadn't stopped completely. He'd tested it, with one leaf they changed every twenty seconds for five minutes, getting steadily slower for the next ten minutes. For the five or so leaves he'd just eaten they would go a lot faster, taking a lot longer for them to slow down.

James shook his head, not resisting as she got him to his feet, but not exactly going along with it either. "No, I'm fine," he said, essentially ordering his body to stop shivering and concentrating on it. He wasn't any warmer, but he'd managed to stop it. "Really, I should probably leave you two be. You were probably in the middle of something when I... um... interrupted you," he said nervously.

For all he knew the pair had been on a date or something that he'd interrupted. With the 'date' thought came a wave of other issues he really didn't want to think about, so he pushed them as far away as humanly possible. He hobbled to his feet, removing the jacket and handing it back to the one who'd given it to him. "Sorry," he apologized, since it was wet now.

He glanced over, seeing three of his invisible souls floating in a circle over the water. He found that they did that when he came to the place that they died. He guessed that they must have drowned in the pond or something. Some of the students of past years that had stuck around, that now stuck to James, unseen to almost anyone. Unless of course, he wanted them to see them. He stopped his telling stare and looked back towards the school, knowing the boy wouldn't know what he was staring at, unless he already knew that James was the necromancer (thing) black magic user person everyone in the school was so adamant to avoid. But, Lin would know....

"Of course," He said easily. She wanted James to drink chocolate, he'd damn well drink chocolate.

"Cook makes a damned good cup of chocolate." He mused, scratching his chin.

Ambrose started to nod, but then remembered that the last time he'd seen Cook in the kitchen, about half an hour ago, he and Sly had been busy belting out Irish ballads and drinking whiskey. Oh boy.

"Uh...Lin! Lin, wait." He ran to catch up with her, cupped her elbow to steer her around.

"Why don't you let me get the chocolate? It's not something I'd have you carting up the steps, and James would be more comfortable hanging with you than me right now. It's my job as a gentleman in training to see to such things, you know." He said, trying a smile and praying she didn't hear the faint sound of singing coming from the kitchens. They were still at it, after all...Damn.

James disliked being the center of attention and worry almost as much as he disliked being ignored every day of the year. He had the unfortunate dislike for both one extreme or another, and would prefer to just have one person he could chat with for a time, not liking crowds to be much larger. He hated being in the hallways around lunchtime when most of the students were out in a big mass of students, one of the few times they didn't part like the Red Sea as he was walking down it.

Lin walked off to get him the hot chocolate, followed quickly by the new person. As much as he liked Lin as a friend, he disliked being fused over a lot more. He would rather get yelled at by her tomorrow rather than be made a big deal of now. He wrote 'sorry' in the mud with his finger, quietly picking up his scythe and starting to walk around the edge of his pond toward his sketchbook on the hill. He wished he was any good at practical magic and could become invisible, unfortunately, he wasn't.

He managed to get to his sketchbook, glancing back and seeing the pair still talking. He probably wouldn't make it a lot further before they turned around and saw him, and Lin tore him a new one for trying to get away. He glanced around, seeing a thick evergreen tree nearby with what looked like some rather sturdy branches. He'd get sticky to go with the wet, but he'd be out of the way at least.... Using his scythe as leverage he, rather agilely, swung up and hid himself among the tree's needles, feeling rather uncomfortable but uncomfortable at the same time.

((Sorry I haven't been online near as much! I decided to take a break from the computer for a bit, and I'm enjoying it very much.))

"I agree!" Ialo replied, having overheard Lazareth even through the whistling winds. "I mean, poison claws, really?" Ialo could never hide the fact that he was seriously weakened from that strike from a dragon as old and experienced as 'Daisy'. He could, however, push himself to keep going. A deathbed would have to wait.

He prayed that whatever Danni was doing, she would do it quickly and take out these damned fools already. Maybe she looked up to him, but he could only do so much!

On a whim, he grumbled a warbling roar, not so much a declaration of rage or injury or vengeance, as it was a call to someone - a summoning.

There was a glimmer of pale yellow light almost immediately, and plummeting through the air and landing on her Master's back was an average-height young woman with teal hair, gray eyes, and an outlandish outfit that primary consisted of some strange overcoat that looked like a cross between a trenchcoat and labcoat. It was silvery, and made of a heavyweight fabric, far too heavy for California' current climate. But then again, Seven didn't mind. She did not sweat. She didn't even have skin. She was a machine, built by Ialo Enlil two years ago as part of his Blue Storm series.

Somehow, perhaps Ialo had told her, she knew where she was, and what she was to do, and she had come prepared. She raised a ridiculously oversized machine gun, and fired away at Lazareth. Dragon scales were tougher than the strong steel man could forge. It was a good thing for Seven then, that she was fired 700 rounds per minute, and these guns were also of Ialo's collection - they were tweaked so that long after they ran out of rounds, they could instead fire magical energy as well.

Her Master had a gorgeous sadistic streak sometimes.

((Oh, and I'm returning to Ialo's old format too.))

Seven did not notice - well, okay, she did see the girl tackle Satan, but the computer-woman was more concerned with keeping the stream of hot metal projectiles aimed at Lazareth. Using the same logic as Ialo had earlier, she ws taking particular care to get the dragon's wings and oddly enough, near the dragon's joints as well.

Ialo howled with laughter (which, believe me, is a REALLY strange noise to hear from a drugged-up, potentially mortally wounded dragon that usually displays NO sense of humor whatsoever, besides some obscure mathematical or scientific reference) as he saw perfectly how Danni tackled Satan.

In theory, he should be dead with fear, just from being around Satan - THE Satan, the very opposition of the Judeo-Christian God, the most powerful black magic user and demon known to this world. This Satan, in theory, was someone who made Setsuka look like a kitten, who made Riser look like a loving uncle (thoughts that normally made Ialo blanch), someone who could wipe people out with a single look. In theory, in theory... in reality, there was not a lot one could do to stop a stubborn dragon. Whether or not Ialo had yet learned that about himself was debatable.

"Oh, hell..." So maybe this hadn't been the best idea. It was obvious she'd taken him by surprise. She doubted her good buddy Satan had had much occassion to participate in some good tackle football. But her god damned self control professor had used sports as an outlet in the class. If only he could see her now, she mused, but then had no time for stupid thoughts when she caught a blast of black magic in the face.

The two figures-one shrouded in darkness, the other glowing slightly, the white light beating like a pulse around her-rolled across the back of the dragon, shooting out magic, trying to get the upper hand.

The magic around her burned him, she knew, and he was trying to swallow her with his own. She could feel the shadows twining around her, latching on, struggling, wriggling against the white magic that coated her.

"You're nothing. You're less than nothing. And you could've been everything. You'll die alone, and in agony." He growled it, flipping her so she was pinned beneath him for a moment before Lazareth's movements had them rolling again.

"No. It's you who will be nothing, you who'll die. And agony's too tame a word." She grinned, despite everything, and risked glancing out of the corner of her eye towards the ground below.

The light was there, just below the shadows, growing, glowing, waiting for her command. She needed to gather more of her power there, just a bit more. And she couldn't fall of the damned dragon if she wanted to do that. But still, good job to the droid.