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"So the liar shows his forked tongue, " Thraen's voice crackled, fury and disgust warring for supremacy, "That on one breath says his control the city and slither into power and place while professing in the next that it is the enemy that is to blame."

Greek and roman marbles, their letters wrought imperishable in stone and memory of man, of studies and long hours pouring over them as a student- Plato's hand to Quenton's thoughts became Thraen's words, "This and no other is the root from which a tyrant springs; when he first appears he is a protector. "

Words of warning to myself as well, not to become what I would remove.
They are evil. He felt no remorse, seeing the man's discomfort and guarding of his other hand. His expression at the reiteration of fears of punishment as a traitor was stony- it was like making an arguement between being drawn and quartered or put in front of a firing-squad- the Captian focussed only on the method of his end, not on an end if penitence were sought and offered. He was weighing torture and suffering against execution and ignoring the offered purgatory to redeem alongside allies that weren't threatening torture. It was too similar to Vespa for his tastes- a youth who'd equally seen only the suffering of his friends and family instead of even trying to a better way. Somehow they deluded themselves that the stay of wrath by being good little children somehow erased the fact that pendulum was still lowering anyway. It was just a stay of suffering and by supporting it they doomed everything they were trying to protect to that same 'worse than he could do' for themselves and whoever else was left at the end-

But his musing was interrupted immediately as the Captain vanished. Thraen started, eyes going wide- then his skull answered his unexpressed question and he tumbled forward, reeling. They can vanish and reappear? Invisibility or actual space folding?

It was a hard hit and one he hadn't been expecting The super senshi kept his momentum going, not wanting to stay in one spot to let himself be pinned. Get up, get on your feet

On your feet

He stopped rolling and pushed up onto his knees- the world swam. Where-

He heard the captain's laugh, and pinpointed his attention to the three-or-so shifting, overlapping images of the man as his eye's decided to resolve binocular vision again after head impact. He didn't feel any wetness, lifting a hand into his hair and the vines, but there was going to be swelling for sure. Buddingtonite was on his way off.

I should give chase. Could. A concussion is not much of a handicap compared to what I did to his hand. Like as not get myself killed, though, trying that business on when my focus is busted. I don't have a weapon to bring to bear except my hands, and how often could he teleport? Why hadn't he before? It dealt with the hand-? It must take some amount of focus, maybe, and active pain as much a detraction to him as to me.

General, indeed. That won't change whether I face you or not. Just the stakes involved. And if they promote him, that will mean that many more bodies have piled along his road.

Thraen took a moment, waiting for head to subsist to a dull throb and the initial vertigo to go away. His personal conversation shifted to wry chastising.
I need to get a better pain tolerance, and get better at taking hits. This is ridiculous. My magic woudl do better on the frontline, but it's no good if getting brained once puts me out. Nothing vital in there, sir.


He should turn it in for the night, and get some ibuprofen.