Welcome to Gaia! ::

Life had gotten to the point where Caleb almost didn’t have the time or inclination to go patrolling anymore. He was almost content with how things were going. His home life was stable and almost even pleasant, and it had been nice to just…lose himself in new memories. Even going so far as to smile every now and then.

The crush that he was trying to get rid of was rather annoying but…it couldn’t be helped.

He was patrolling tonight, taking a walk while powered was more of an apt description, but…everything seemed so vibrant now that he was stronger. Now that he had wings on his back and was at the top of the food chain.

Oh what he couldn’t do with this power…

He felt the revolting slimyness of chaos nearby, and Gelria turned towards it, unable to stop a sneer from curling on his lips.

When he saw the lieutenant he broke into a laugh that sounded more than a little half mad, but utterly gleeful. Perfect. This would be easy.

A stupid little cockroach that he could crush under his heel.

Without warning and without preamble, he moved close to the male and held out his hand. “Cinnamon Storm.”

He would give this poor sap the luxury of an easy death if he could. But that was all he could promise.

The smile on Gelria’s face was utterly feral for a moment, and then his expression settled into a cool, impassive mask. He wouldn’t resort to torture. It would be nice. Quick and clean.

He easily dodged the male’s swings and took hold of his wrist, jerking it sharply, going to push him to the ground, a knee digging into the lieutenant’s chest when he got him onto the ground. “It will be over soon.” He said softly, the barest kindness audible over the obvious amusement.

“I’ll even do my best so it doesn’t hurt you so much. You should thank me. I don’t give this offer often.”

Almost lazily, he pressed his hand firmly against Parisite’s windpipe. “You shouldn’t have decided to wear black, you know. Chaos can do nothing but get you killed. And killed by me. What a shame. Though, I suppose it could have been worse. After all, I’m just putting you out of your misery before your infection spreads.”

“Shh, shh. It’s all right.” Gelria’s voice grew softer, again, almost kind. “Don’t fight it, it will be all over soon. I’m saving you. This is truly for the best. I’m going to rid the city of all chaos. And then peace will come, and then everyone will be able to be happy again.”

He pressed his hand down a little harder, prying the male’s fingers away with his other, and then stroking some hair back from his face, taking in the scars on it with a thoughtful expression. “Those who are tainted by chaos can’t love. So, I know that nobody will miss you. It’s almost a shame. You’re handsome, even with the scarring.”

Gelria traced his index finger down the scar on his cheek and sighed. “…Just why did you think it was a good idea? Making a deal with the devil? You should have known you were being stupid. Evil never wins.”

Bending down, he pressed the softest kiss to the lieutenant’s forehead and pressed his hand down a bit more firmly. “Good night, now.”

The Negaverse was not full of good people. It wasn't full of completely bad people--some were just easily manipulated. Like him. Some were just stupid. Like the one currently getting choked out by the Eternal Senshi. Who, to be honest.

Kind of. Looked like he was trying to kill him.

Like.

Seriously trying to kill him.

When Ammersee had felt the energy signatures at first, he hadn't thought much of it--an Eternal Senshi should be able to take care of a Lieutenant. But, something was nagging in the back of his mind and he couldn't place it. He'd gone closer, out of curiosity, but what he found wasn't what he expected.

He had expected the Negaverse to pull the dirty tactics.

Certainly, the best way to ensure one side of a war lost was by killing all of their soldiers, but...

It just didn't sit right with him. He waited, hoping the Eternal Senshi was just bluffing, but as the seconds dragged on he realized that he was watching a would-be murder.

He'd seen a lot in his life, but he wasn't going to see that.

Reluctantly, he began to trot towards the Senshi--and then, when he'd worked up to it, he picked up the face. He charged. HIs trident was in his hand and he swung it just hard enough to knock the Senshi off of the Lieutenant, simultaneously channeling his magic. He was stil getting used to it and its abilities, but he had seen what it had done to his brother when he wasn't seriously fighting him--he could only hope it would be effective now that he actually needed it. It wasn't easy to keep focusing on the magic and completing a task, but he set his mind to it and, when the Senshi was out of his way, he scooped the agent up in both arms.

Something in the pit of his stomach told him that this was a bad idea--that he shouldn't have interfered. That he was helping the enemy.

But then, something also told him that maybe it wasn't so bad to step in if it meant that they weren't going to die.

He didn't have a lot of experience fighting Senshi--at least, not that he remembered. Maybe, when he had been in the Negaverse, things would had been different, but he wasn't going to wait around and see what it was like this time. He wasn't delicate with Parasite; once he was in his arms, he held him in a sloppy bridal style and bolted, as fast as he could. His magic only had a limited duration, and he didn't know how far away he could get before it stopped working. He could feel it draining from him even as he ran with the agent clutched to his chest and he worked his hardest to get as far away as he could as fast as he could.

He didn't want to risk the agent thinking this was some sort of attack though; he was not going to let himself get hurt for doing a good deed. Besides--he recognized this one. Who he maybe, accidentally, had thrown a little too hard the last time they'd run into each other. It's not that he felt like he owed him, just that he really didn't want to spend the rest of his life thinking his blood was on his hands.

He muttered through grit teeth, "If you want to keep breathing, just stay still. If you struggle, I will drop you."

BlackSageTea

Orangeish Sherbert

Magic: Ammersee swings the trident and a tinkling, chime like sound echoes through the air. For as long as he is channeling his magic, all targets within a ten foot range will continue to hear the chiming and find themselves lost in a strange illusion. Everything around them will appear to darken and ripple, as they are trapped in a vortex of water and cut off from the outside world. The bells will continue chiming melodically, however with more intensity the longer he channels it. The music can cause a sense of alarm and concern; targets cannot see or hear clearly and it feels as though the water is crushing down on them. At player discretion it can give the impression of sinking or drowning, and they can choose to utilize actual water that lingers after the magic ends if desired. The magic will follow targets as they move and each individual target is trapped for the duration of magic. He can channel his magic for up to forty seconds at this stage.

He was fairly sure he’d flat out blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew, he was being dragged into someone’s arms and jostled with the sort of rhythm of someone running. It was a confusing association, half memory, half absolutely stellar headache.
It felt like a mule had kicked him right in the forehead, never mind his throat.

If he meant to acknowledge the admonition not to struggle, it came out as a desperate hoarse fit of coughing and a half hearted groan.
Yes, he very much did want to keep breathing; nothing he’d experienced in this strange costumed state had led him to expect anything like he’d just experienced.
He felt wrung out like an old washrag, it had been ages since he’d felt quite this level of terrible, but he wished profoundly that it had been longer.

At least he could blame any of the water escaping his eyes on the puff of spicy awful dust, not… on anything that had been said or otherwise done to him.

But…

Didn’t he recognize…

“No hospital…” He managed to rasp out, it barely sounded like his own voice and it -hurt. He’d have shaken his head too but the bruise he was going to have was going to be ridiculously hard to explain.

“M’ok…. “

His eyes said more than he did because he really didn’t want to talk. The -WHY?- was written clear as day, the suspicion of familiarity somewhat clouded by the pounding headache.
He was, honestly, not ok. But he wasn’t about to admit that.
He wanted to be with Sterling, he wanted to be home…


“Thanks….” He was barely a whisper, and that hurt less, but it still sounded a little like his throat felt.

Hesitation, distrust… that sort of wounded animal look that he’d gotten the first time they met each other. The one when he’d been grabbed and clearly been looking for an escape.

He might have done any number of foolish things at that moment, but he tentatively gave a thumbs up.

His expression still suspicious, but he wasn’t going claws out just yet.
He seemed to fumble for a moment if it could be called that before figuring out the tablet.
Really fresh meat as it were. Well tenderized now to boot.

He hesitated before even touching the screen, glancing at his very strange savior.
He couldn’t exactly return the favor, but he could at least not call down his General on the man’s head. Assumptions could be made that wouldn’t be…healthy. And she had a very pointy spear.

He waited for what felt like an eternity before he touched the tablet.
It felt like the least he could do to make sure the other man got away safe.
It didn’t hurt that he just wanted to lay there and remember what it felt like to breathe.
Try and imagine taking for granted that you could swallow without a burning ache.

He finally brought it to life and sorted out how to message her.

He hoped ‘could use help’ wasn’t too succinct a message for General Cavansite.

He tried to find it in him to stand, so he could at least greet her on his feet, but he couldn’t. Instead, he gave up and groaned softly, pushing the ice pack against the most prevalent of bruises, there around his neck. Though he was sure that the mark of a knee on his chest would be its own kind of awful.

He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he was scared of every sound, trying hard to be aware of even a hint of that awful energy returning.