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 Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 5:29 pm
The process of Cymbeline transforming had not gone unnoticed but it was a process one went through alone. Even if the heirs had wanted to naively help, it wouldn't have been allowed. Interference was unnecessary.
Aisa gave Connie and Cym the look.
And then her hand reached out, to tuck a precious purple feather she extracted from her back, tucking it into the skulls adorning Famine's hair.
She didn't need to say, congratulations.
"Pleased, Cym?"
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 5:37 pm
The voices were too many and too loud for Taryn to do much but mindlessly follow the crowd. There was deep sadness, sorrow, hatred... but it was all beneath the screaming Insanity. The ghoul stood only as she saw the other leaving, abandoning her here to leave her for dead; of course they would leave her. She was only some nerd, no friends, such an ugly little--
She did not see Riley's body removed and did not notice that they were being pushed by the bogeymen into any kind of quarantine. Nothingness overtook Medea's voice and Taryn just allowed herself to fall to the gymnasium floor to sleep...
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 7:12 pm
Had he been able to sense the anger that rolled off of the other students as their insanity drained away, West might have felt slightly better about the whole situation. There would still be the gnawing paranoia, the confusion and the despair, but those emotions always went down a little easier with a bit of rage.
He sank to his knees and then to the ground, watching students stumble through a world tilted on its side. He saw a bogeyman try to confiscate a... statue of Riley? When had the ghoul had time to sculpt that? And why had Malodore agreed to have clay slapped all over it? West chuckled as the plague doctor's head was neatly severed from its body and a pack of tiny meowstaches erupted from its neck. This was a dream. It was a dream and he was going to wake up. Right now.
He closed his eyes.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 7:33 pm
The slimer fell to his knees. He was tired, even the searing anger in him wouldn't wake the bones beneath the slime. Even ghost's had its limits. Their ability to survive is legendary, but the past events would take a heavy toll on any body, alive or undead. His glow seem to wane.
Maybe it was just his eyes. His eyes were closing involuntarily, though he could still see his semi-transparent eyelids. His knees bent, and he sat on his feet. His shoulders relaxed. His hands slipped from his lap and down on the floor. Maybe he could dream.
El Greco doesn't remember his last dream or if he had ever any. His life was a dream that he couldn't remember. He could only smell or even taste some of it, but not fully. They were faint traces.
He was falling unconscious. His eyes saw faint figures. If asked what he remembers before his mind shut down, he would say: he remembers all the students falling asleep. He remembered the statue. He remember the bogeymen. He faintly remembers the silhouette of a plague doctor losing its head.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 8:43 pm
Tyshina slowly but surely followed the group of people back. Everything that had happened here, was just a blur in her mind. It was as if it had all been a dream, yet she was sure was reality since she had seen everything happen in front of her very eyes. Yet still it seemed unreal to her....
None the less she was home and that was all that mattered. She could feel a sort of relief overcome her as she stepped back onto the familiar area. "Home," she whispered to herself as she walked ahead. She was stopped for a moment and pushed into a special type place for what reason she didn't understand. Though nonetheless she did as she was told and followed her orders. An before long her eyes had shut and she was fast asleep on the ground underneath her feet.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:04 pm
Siddie moved in a daze, numb and exhausted. She hurt all over. She'd been so angry. Why had she been so angry? She couldn't remember.
The isles were gone.
She found a mat and lay down, tucking herself into a tight curl. She wanted a doll. She wanted her own clothes.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:11 pm
When the students woke up, now notably in the Amityville gymnasium, the first thing they would notice were the others littered around them. Most had sat up at least, though standing still seemed hard, a wave of strange nausea flowing through them, rooting their Fear to the ground. They felt heavy, drowsy, sleepy still, but at least the voices had subdued. They saw the world for what it was, Halloween, drab and dull, dreary.... and quiet.
Everything was at peace again.
A Bogeyman appeared in the area, flanked by a few others, heading straight for Medea. The priestess was managing a familiar looking incense pyre in the center, the smells radiating from its fumes was soft, relaxing.
"It is time to escort your kind." The Bogeyman held no negotiation in their tone. "As per grant by the Halloween Town Mayor, the former Four Clans will be granted a small reserve as now protected members of Halloween. However, it is also stated that you will be watched under surveillance for the first few days, consider it a necessary precaution."
"I understand." Medea stood up, gesturing for the other lost Four Clans members to follow. "We will follow your lead." A pause. "But we would like the students to also come, and join our ceremony, as if it were not for them, we would not be here, and Halloween would have been in a much more compromising situation."
A snarl built up in the Bogeyman's throat, clearly he thought otherwise, though the need to be political to a dying species had not escaped him. He finally looked away. "As you wish." The last words Medea had said seem to sting him in particular as he glared at the students, as if suggesting for them to defy logic one more time.
The priestess unfazed, gestured for the students to follow as they walked away from the gymnasium, down to the outskirts of the Weeping Forest, a familiar place for some, a giant, vacant expanse where someone else, or rather three someone elses were conversing. The ground was flat, even, covered only in simple grass.
"I appreciate it." The first voice proclaimed, poignant and clipped under the long black cloak. "It has been a trying time for us all, and the last thing we need to do is look back. We will take what has been offered, with respect and humility, of course, of course." They waggled a finger at Medea as she neared, gesturing for her to come closer, addressing the tallest figure in the center. "Ah, you have met Medea, have you not? She will be assisting me heavily, in fact, I would very much like her to oversee the reserve's actions: she has a level head, I believe the clanspeople respect her very much as well. If you have any issues, talk to her, if you would please, and tell your boss the Mayor to as well."
The shortest of the three, the Amityville secretary, opened his mouth to say something - as he was interrupted by the center figure, a tall demon wearing fashionable purple framed glasses. "Duly noted." She began, scribbling a few more words rather primly in her thick bound notebook. "Now, I leave you with the Bogeymen and these.... students, there is still work to be filed out in the City Hall on our end." She turned around with a single clack of her stiletto heels and walked away.
A few moments of silence.
"Ah, thank you for coming students." The second tallest figure, the cloaked one finally began as everything assembled back to quiet. "As the last surviving Ruler of the Four Clans, I do have a few final requests for you all." There, he turned to the scattered remains of the Four Clans now personified in the people, many lost, confused, waiting on his every word. "We are no longer the Four Clans, our culture all but lost. We are the remains of our legacy, even, until we prove to Halloween what we truly represent. We will learn to work with Halloween, ask and offer but not intrude. But more importantly, we will need to learn again to work with ourselves. Our culture is lost but the memories remain, we are no longer the Four Clans but The Lost Clan, a Clan built with a centuries of memories, foundations, cultures, waiting to be recovered. Preserve what you love, love what you preserve." Another pause, the air solemn now. "Now, four Heirs, my favourite Heirs of the former Four Clans, come step in front of me."
Death waited a little bit for them to walk forward, one step at a time, confused perhaps at first. He waited for them to stand, to assemble in front of him. "You are now the Protectors of the new Lost Clan. You will watch over them, over us and protect and guard them. Your power is still growing, for many untapped, which is why you must learn to control it accordingly. Accept your role with responsibility and honour."
Silence again. Solemn, quiet, a ceremony.
"Now, one last thing. As one clan, we will rebuild together. There is great sadness in what happened, but also a chance for change. You create, you build, and you can become, adapt to newer roles. You are no longer restricted by your own clans, but at the same time, you can not forget." A click. Death was playing with his pocket watch now as they talked.
At last, he turned to the students, and to the school secretary. "You students are one of the few privileged to see our Clans in their glory days: remember this moment, clear and strong in your minds, for there will never be one like it again. Aid us, remember us, and we in turn will do our best to always assist you."
There was no acknowledgment from the students, though the words did create a solemn moment of thought. It was true: what the students saw, what they experienced, what they learned, it was something that they could not forget even if they tried. The rest dissolved into simple thought, quiet and peaceful. Silent and slightly awkward. Noone dared to speak in Death's wake.
Arel, at last, cleared his throat. "Well um, I have things to do, so it was nice being here and all but I think, ah, that is you know, paperwork and stuff-"
-" We will see you and the students around then." Medea helped clarify. "All paths lead to the same end." THE END....? This is the OFFICIAL WRAPUP for the FOUR ISLES STORYLINE PART OF THE META! CONGRATS AND THANK YOU ALL PLAYERS. gaia_crown [ Growth Points ] - If you have an OFFICIAL STUDENT/ HUNTER, Meta RP points will be handed out later on this week as there are still several small events that will be running gaia_crown [ ALL PLAYERS - EPILOGUE ] The epilogue belongs to the players! We would like a conclusion post from your characters! this can be as long or short as you want, this is a post for reaction to what has happened/been announced one last time. You are also free to come talk amongst each other. It also means that all official students can go back to rping in Amityville again - QUEST PLAYERS: Thank you so much for playing! We hope this has been a hugely fun event for you! We would still like a conclusion post from you okay, before your student heads back to their own schools (ooc: they are shelved, after this RP you will no longer be able to rp them as meta is over sad ) gaia_crown [ TROPHY CLAIM ] In the trophy claim thread after you have done your epilogue, please post your claims! Each player will also be given a final 25 Four Clans Tokens and one Four Clans Package to use on site! gaia_crown [ THE LOST CLAN HAS BEEN UNLOCKED ] Halloween welcomes its sixth species, THE LOST CLANS. To check out information about them, please go HERE - A brand new storyline is waiting for those who win a Lost Clans character, which will be unveiled after the Prize Ceremony! gaia_crown [ THE META IS NOT OVER ] The meta is FAR from over! We will be running several horsemen-related freebie events as well as tying things up ICly in Amityville. This is the end of the Storyline regarding the Four Clans but there is still a lot of event-related to things to do! - Clan minipets will be open till the end of the prize ceremony! -There will be a prize ceremony after all auctions are done, where plenty of premades will be handed out to newbies so keep an eye out for that! In addition the Four Clans raffle will end tonight and auctions will be ongoing.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:25 pm
Aleria, dazed, stumbled through the portal. The demon was familiar enough with Bogeymen, enough to know not to argue.
They found no contempt in authority, but placed in faith in it, either. It was simply the wisest course of action, if one were to use their logical thinking skills...Not that Aleria had many, at the moment.
The hissing voices in Aleria's mind had faded, like the smoke of a snuffed candle wafting away. They were still disappointed that the strange Reapers-Called-Hunters would be so cruel as to ruin generations of knowledge, books and minds destroyed by their callous actions.
They assumed it had been the humans. The other option was the horsemen themselves-- and why would they do such a thing?
At least their proper vines were back, that familiar dumb presence furled around Aleria's mind. The demon's very veins twitched back to life, squirming and thrumming beneath their chilled skin.
This was not home, but it was a place that was safe, or something like it.
That was good enough, for Aleria. Good enough for now.
Watching the leader speak gave Aleria chills in a pleasant way. They were so honest, so earnest in their embracing of their new name. The Heirs turned protectors, the Four Clans turned Lost.
It was poignant. Aleria could appreciate poignant.
They only hoped that their few days with the Famine clan could be written upon later, preserved. The sun, the oasis, the alchemy class, the plant room. Little things would add up to become more, stories to tell the next generation of horsemen, for the ones who would be to young to know the Lost Clan as Four instead of Lost.
The icy demon had intended for the exchange to be an acquisition of worldly experience, but they had not anticipated something quite so... intense.
All paths lead to the same end?
Perhaps.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:26 pm
Danny blinked wearily, the fatigue fading up. She was a heavy sleeper, but always quick to rise, and she was sitting up in no time. Especially since the boogymen had just decided that laying her on her back was a GREAT idea. Now her wings were sore on top of sprained. She really hated these things.
Hushed whispers began spreading around the room, but Danny, surprisingly, lay silent. The voices were gone, and for once she was savoring the small bit of quiet. It was so nice not to have someone vaguely whispering at the edges of your mind, distracting you every second.
Of course, she first looked around to find her friends. The whole gym was filled though- there was no way she was going to be able to decipher this purple mohawk from that purple moehawk, that antennae from this antennae, that black hair from this black hair.
She was about to call out when Medea spoke. Danny listened, but her mind wasn't particularly on topic. All she could think about was getting back to her dorms, and staying there. Who knew what kind of contraptions were lying in wait here. Maybe they were going to gas her again?
As soon as Medea finished speaking, Danny nodded, and then turned around and ran for her dorm. She didn't need Rikki or Yin's comforting words or a bit of guitar with Roch. She needed her own dorm, her own bed, and nothing trying to kill her.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:30 pm
It seemed that the decisions had been made. Things had happened in one night, but Invictus did not complain. Those who had been in power before already knew how they would proceed from this point in time, and he? He for once was not sure what he would be doing with his future.
A reserve. The four clans would live inside of Halloween and rebuild from there. How long would that would take? Possibly eternity. But they had numbers now and for that they could continue on. Death and Medea would lead them - this seemed suitable to him. It did not sit too well with him, perhaps it was part of his nature as Conquest, but they had experience. Power. Knowledge. They were strong and knowing.
They would be the best for this sort of thing. He would relent to those who were capable doing their work. Yet, it seemed there was still a place for him and the three other heirs - his girls. As he was beckoned forward, he went as he always did - moving before the other three did to assemble before Death.
As they were told of their new duties, Invictus bowed his head, accepting it openly. Yes, he had already decided he would do just that, even without the title. The four of them were strong. Their clansmen would need them to keep them safe as they recovered. They would keep their new home safe. Nobody would take it from them. They would never lose their home ever again.
He did not seem to mind the silence as it settled, just looking to those in the clan who remained, and then looking over towards the students assembled before he finally turned to fully face those who were of his own kind. They needed him now. He had given what assistance he could to Amityville in the last year. It was time to put his new strength into building and assisting his own.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:38 pm
It was all over.
Or is it, thought Sparrow, as he sat against the far wall of the gymnasium, bruised, bloodied, and beat, encased in layers of dirt and grime and feeling utterly drained. He glanced down at his hand, which still held the broken remains of his scythe, a few small tendrils of shadow escaping from beneath his fingers. The length of it was still there, and part of the blade, but for the most part the sharply curved end had shattered, thanks to Aisa.
It would regenerate eventually - but not for a while, and Sparrow pressed his lips together. After a moment the scythe shivered, then slowly disappeared, sinking back into the palm of his hand and disappearing in a gust of black. He closed his fingers, curling them together as he made a fist, but then sighed and shook out his hand, lifting it to push some of his hair away from his face.
It's just the beginning, isn't it. Sparrow's eyes traced the path of the horsewoman - Medea - his mind working slowly to comprehend what exactly she was saying. Emotionally he felt exhausted, and his mind - and body - felt as though he had run a thirty mile marathon without stopping once. Everything had happened so quickly, and now that things were starting to settle (in a manner of speaking), he was not even sure where to begin taking apart his vast range of emotions, and everything seemed hazy and slightly confusing.
But at least he knew where he was and what he was going to do next.
But what now, thought Sparrow, as he pushed himself back to his feet, swaying a bit unsteadily. His eyes swept through the crowds, and quietly he slipped his hands into the pockets of his pants, letting some of the tension in his shoulders ease away.
He was back - and so were the rest of them.
...almost, he thought, a pang clattering in his chest. Almost all of us.
Not wanting to think about it, Sparrow let out his breath, exhaling slowly, and then lifted his gaze back to where Medea stood, letting his eyes rest on the horsewoman one last time.
"All paths lead to the same end."
Maybe, thought Sparrow. Maybe they do.
He turned to leave, silently making his way towards the gymnasium doors - but as he did so, he pulled out his skellyphone, turned it back on for the first time in weeks, and painstakingly typed out a single message as he walked back to his dorm room:
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:39 pm
((Response to the First Prompt/Post is First, Epilogue is Underneath!))
It was his fault.
Everything was his fault. Somehow it had been his fault. He knew it. Why hadn't he been good enough, why hadn't he been strong enough? It was his fault. He wasn't worth all the trouble he'd caused. He wasn't worth the boogeymen's trouble, the worry he might of caused, the destruction of an immense culture. He wasn't worth any of it.
Moure knew he wasn't worth it.
The endless miasma of doubt and regret and trouble snagged constantly at Moure's mind, whispering voices catching on his every worry, on his every mistake and repeating each one, reiterating them all until the patchwork feared he might break. Literally, physically, emotionally, mentally, and completely.
He didn't remember the woods as he saw them, fragmented and drained, hiding Hunters around every corner, the woods themselves waiting to swallow them up. Everything was wrong and Moure knew it was all his fault somehow. He hadn't done something, finished some Errand, something. It had to be his fault.
He wasn't worth the attention of the boogeymen as they escorted them into the Gym (Was it the Gym? It looked like the Gym but nothing was the same anymore. Nothing.), wasn't worth anything.
Faintly, he heard the sound of a voice that had brought them all comfort, one he identified as a Horsewoman's. However, he couldn't focus on it, and everything seemed to flicker around in his mind. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it all to just stop.
His eyes glanced to everything and everyone, moving with real intent other than to fill his mind with something other than the voices. He had to remember something other than these voices. He saw a statue that looked just like a certain mindflayer, saw the Horsemen talking to the boogeymen, saw the the students still milling around, but nothing was enough to fill his mind. The voices were fainter now though, perhaps caused by time or the distance from their source, and one voice was dominant over the other now.
Moure found his way to a flat, vertical surface, a gate or a wall, and found that everything had taken it's toll on his undead body. He collapsed against it, slipping down until he was seated. When had he become so tired? He didn't remember weariness like this. His usual tiredness came in sudden strikes, nearly instantly causing his collapse for several hours from overworking. This tiredness slowly ate at him instead. He found his eyelids closing, his knees pulled up and an arm spanning between them, and his head resting on that. He let himself fall limp and felt the sleep begin to engulf him.
Even as he slept though, one voice, one constant doubt, bit at him, unsilenced still.
'You're worthless Moure, no matter what you think you've accomplished.
You are worthless.
Absolutely worthless.'
He hadn't needed the Insanity to find this fear and let it break him from the inside. The Insanity hadn't brought it either, this thought that was so deeply engrained in his subconscious.
No, he'd had it all along.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
((Epilogue Starts Here!))
When Moure had finally come to again, more than a little concerned and dazed, and actually a little nausea-filled as well, he tried to take in everything. The other points of Halloween were overshadowed by one thing.
There were no more voices.
He caught a whiff of something and for a moment thought himself back in the Temple on Death before remembering that there was no longer such a place. There was a conversation going on between Medea and one of the boogeymen now, and he caught onto it after a few moments. They were to go somewhere with the last of the clan members?
Groggily, Moure somehow pushed himself up and followed after them. It was the least they could do, considering everything that had happened to the Horsemen.
One they arrived, he waited in silence as the far figures conversed, noting that one seemed stronger than the others somehow. Perhaps it was just an air around them, but Moure felt instantly more respectful of the figures in any case. They began to speak, first to the actual Clan members about their newest rolls in society, and then to the students as well.
Somehow, despite the bleak sadness that they had faced, the Horseman Leader was providing sanctuary with his words, of a new future and new possibilities. Moure felt himself stand a little straighter when the figure turned to look at him and the rest of the students. They had indeed seen the beauty of the clans before everything had been destroyed, and would bare that witness forever.
There was silence as the speech was finished. When no one spoke up again though after the figure, the quiet seemed to become too imposing for some. Moure tipped his head to catch the words of their secretary, watching as the apparently frazzled Arel spoke. Medea's radiant voice returned and answer, and Moure found himself giving one nod before glancing around. There was nothing else to be done here, it seemed.
Perhaps, just perhaps, it was time to go home.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:39 pm
She didn't want to sit through this ceremony. She didn't know where Riley was, Jericho hadn't replied to any of her texts, and she was starting to worry about this. Still, she'd tried to remain calm. She'd tried to be supportive of what was happening - it was important to these people for all they'd lost. They would be their neighbors now.
And Death..she hadn't had a chance to speak of any of the things that for some were too late to help. But now she wanted one thing and one thing alone: To see that the situation as she saw it didn't get any worse. She remained silent as the exchange towards the remaining Horsemen were made and the previous four Heirs were given new status - perhaps to go with the changes in strength she'd seen in some of them. Powerful, the heirs - protectors, rather, were. They would do their jobs well, she'd learned that first hand.
Still, it didn't seem like the exchange had ended soon enough for her. Yes, there was now a reserve near the school. Yes, they would be seeing the Horsemen more often due to some functions. No, she didn't need to be here for all of this. What if Jericho was- no, she couldn't tell herself anything so stupid.
She was getting herself worked up, hushed noises pressing in at each side of her brain, a white noise she couldn't decipher in the least.
No, the second they were allowed to leave, Shehk was already moving, not lingering for long.
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:39 pm
Once he had awakened, Shun went on to try and find where Mitsu and his friends where so he could go ahead and sit by them. Once that was done, his attention was completely on the figures ahead, following as they moved from the gym to the forest. So it seemed that only one clan leader had managed to survive that blast. The horsemen were going to need a good deal of time and effort to rebuild what they had just lost. Quite frankly, he wasn't entirely certain what to make of it all.
For a moment, he shuddered as he could have sworn he heard something sinister being murmured nearby. Who was talking during this? The reaper frowned while shifting a little uncomfortably. He had been suspicious of the horsemen's intentions before but at this point it did not matter much. Human destruction was not something they would really be able to achieve anytime soon.
It was unfortunate though. Suspicions aside, he had enjoyed the time he had spent on the islands. He had learned from them.
Quietly, he looked towards the four heirs... no. Protectors. They too had a good deal of work cut out for them. Most likely this meant they would also not be staying at the school from this point forth. Hopefully, the reserves will at least be somewhat open for the students. Eventually.
But for now.. it was over.
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Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Apr 23, 2012 9:39 pm
When she woke up, the first thing she noticed is that her head was not nearly as dizzy and confused. Nothing was screaming at her to sleep, to do this or that, to run away or move forward or anything of the sort. She was freed. Freed from the old world of the Four Clans, where there was nothing left but a spire of black and grey pitch spinning up to the sky, and back in what she knew was Halloween, even if where she stood was unfamiliar. It took a few moments for her to realize exactly was she was, recognizing her surroundings as what must have been part of Amityville, the school where most of the students that had come to the Four Clans had originated. She was one of the lucky ones, one of the few who had gotten to attend from another school, one of the few that got to tour before the isles were suddenly...
... gone.
What were these Hunters? She had heard about them in whisper and rumor, but to see them in action, to see what they were capable of doing-- that, in itself, was terrifying, and as her thoughts began to gather more, her body still too tired to lift itself, she processed it, went over it again and again, letting the notes of terror begin to ring in her mind. Those people were not good. They were not any good for any of them, and if they could do so much to those majestic isles, she never wanted to see them in action anywhere ever again. She would do her best to avoid them... from then, and forever on.
But was there any way to avoid a foe like that?
It kept her mind spinning before the Bogeyman caught her attention, saying something about granting the Four Clans members a reserve--she was rather pleased to hear that, it was the least those of Halloween could do, and even her self-centered heart went out to them, wishing she could do more for them--before Medea stood up and requested they follow her.
Follow her?
But she was not a member of the Four Clans...
It was a solemn way to be called into their attention, to be honored, and she knew it, the bile rising in her throat before she shoved it back down. Serafina had wanted to bask in the glory of impressing the Four Clans members, of doing everything correctly and just the way they had wanted her too, but her plans were nothing like this. Sure, she was being thanked, being honored by the fact that they would be willing to lend their hand to the ones who had even helped them survive, but she had wanted nothing like this. Being lauded for her well behaved manner within the Isle of Conquest, that beautiful land of long flowing dresses, beautiful colors, and lotus all around, being allowed to stay longer, even, and learn about all the little things of their culture because she behaved in such a way that had deserved it, she had impressed them with her knowledge...
..But no.
None of that was anymore.
Serafina knew that deep down, and perhaps that was what hurt the most, and what kept her so solemnly silent during the ceremony that promoted the heirs--one of which she recognized as one of her teachers--into the Protectors of the Lost Clans, a new role to protect the heritage of the Clans, a heritage that, after Serafina had seen it, she agreed needed to be preserved. There were hundreds of years of fascinating culture, a culture that could not, and should not ever be forgotten, not even if it took all of their might to preserve such a thing.
It was easy to say that her trip to the Four Clans--and seeing its ensuing destruction--had sombered Serafina, stopping her from rambling on in her thanks and instead only nodding in a sense of deep respect as Death and Medea left the premises, and as the heirs slowly began to join, her eyes following Invictus as he turned fully towards his own people.
She couldn't help the way she simply sat silently for a little while, mulling over the entire student exchange in her head. She could still see the beautiful lands of Conquest and the wonders of War in her head, images flashing in a way that made her head nearly spin. What she once regarded with annoyance was now regarded with sorrow, a deeper feeling inside Serafina wishing she had appreciated the Isle of War more while she was there. What ever happened to her small dragon companion? Had he died, too? She likely had no chance of ever seeing him again, as much as it pulled on the heartstrings of the young ghoul. She had tried so hard to befriend him, and now, like so much else, he was simply... dust, lost to a phoenix of fear and deep remorse with no true victory, no true... comfort and release.
Never so deeply had she wished for a loss of the humans. She never thought her dislike of humanity could run so high, but they had caused this somber praise, this heartbreak of a whole people. And she couldn't just let that slip from her mind even as she finally let herself stand up straight, shaking out the tense feeling in her shoulders.
Well, if there was one thing she knew for certain...
... She would have a lot to tell her friends back home.
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