That any dark magic could grant such an advantage was a cruel truth in the universe. Alastor was fast, but he couldn’t move like that. He couldn’t teleport, either–and that meant that no matter what distance was between himself and the General King, it might as well have been nothing. Such was always going to be in Jet’s favor.
Remus wasn’t in the picture right now, and hadn’t been for a while. Jet and Sessrumnir’s history ran deep, and there were more than enough scabs for Jet to pick at if he wanted to enrage Sessrumnri.
Alastor couldn’t risk consoling him; it put too much of a target on them and their relationship, and he didn’t want to give Jet more fodder to taunt Sessrumnir.
He’d been used to handling fights physically. His magic was typically never his first choice of attack, but for Sessrumnir’s sake he tried to keep his distance.
He and Jet hadn’t met, and this was hardly the time or place to exchange introductions. He didn’t want to meet him. He wanted Cybele to get out of here, and he wanted to leave before Sessrumnir could get hurt, too.
The Knight was already pale in a way that twisted Alastor’s stomach. It wasn’t enough to disorient him, though. He wasn’t going to lose his focus.
He had a slew of magic to use, and now that he wasn’t worried about losing control, he cast the same magic on Jet again. He stayed as close to him as he could safely manage–for Sessrumnir’s sake–and positioned himself partway between the both of them to ensure that no matter where Jet wound up, he was at least somewhat within reach.
Guine
stari_maga
