He went over a list in his head, of what he had in his inventory, of the way he'd left the floor in the one section of Farnsworth that he'd meticulously picked over like a man with a broom on a mission to put new calluses over old ones or wake the dead trying.
"I made sure there was only the one mirror in the place..." Equal parts determination and dread thrown into a cement mixer; gravely on his tongue, in his throat. He swallowed gruffly, already hating every nigh sleepless moment spent waiting since yesterday for witching hour 'tonight'. Save for how he now wanted to be there early, twitched for it -- thick muscles shuddering just under his skin at every nauseatingly gentle touch from every bug that'd strayed away from Headaches filthy-to-him swarm. He didn't like the bugs so close, hated the very suggestion of being 'piggybacked' in like some mount under mantle.
Though...I suppose Headache is a ********' suitable saddle...considering how much of an a** I've been...
"Least? Didn't see any others, but it's mostly burnt out. If he's got s**t planted elsewhere..." A 'so what' shrug as he tilted his head to try and see what he'd not wanted to directly look at for a hot minute now. But his curiosity for whether the creature had coalesced into something less taunting than it'd been when he'd entered his Husbands office had finally won out.
Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 10:14 am
The profusion of fireflies that was Headache hummed thoughtfully, a sound indistinguishable from a thousand buzzing pairs of wings. They arranged and then rearranged, finally settling, finally blinking into a unison that was once an insectoid cloud and now a long and furling green cape. Something not unlike the other ascended senshi.
Not all of Headache was needed for a cape, however. The remainder tickled over Albite's skin, wherever exposed, and settled into place as delicate cracks over supple skin. And while he lacked the blaring alarm that was an Ascended General's aura, it expected that few knew what that aura felt like. Fewer survived long enough to relay that information to others. And, all the while, it was certain that Albite would squirm for as long as Headache remained on his skin, which was terribly reminiscent of the absentee owner that once occupied this office.
"Congratulations," came its dry, disembodied voice. "You can follow basic instructions.
"I doubt the Mirror Prince will give us any problems. He was well-behaved last time. That doesn't mean we should let him get too comfortable.
"Now show me what you've done."
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 12:10 pm
“Oh look, he learns—“ sing-song lilt full of self-taunt muttered mockingly, as Albite tried his best to keep his disdain tucked by tongue into the pocket of his cheek. Headaches humm an irritant, maddeningly so— How close it was to being all of his favorite things. To the kinds of nature he found himself more often craving to be in; away from the city’s stink he’d contributed to the act of worsening months on. In the woods. In the Rift. In his home in the Underdark with Cassian and the others doing something more enjoyable than this! If only ‘this’ didn’t feel so ******** presciently necessary a step in finding an end to the path Headache had set him upon. Either he put all of Muris sound, generous advice to use and met with the Prince of Mirror twinks to get a solid hold of a lead, or he fell apart like candied glass ground to dust at Laurelite's feet —
Jayce so often told him to put trust in them…to give himself to the team the same way he asked they give themselves to him…Adam gave him outs…waited like a spider in its web for him to finally come to his senses…willing prey shaking the strings desperately…Emmy was always there, ghost in his periphery. Promise broken because he thought he had time to keep it better *later* when it would matter most! He could’ve thrown Headache off, gone to be with them, house hunting, crib picking, gym time.
Because Faustite *was* alive, had to be, of that he was assured by now (even if he questioned the ‘where’ and ‘in what state of matter’ with every fibre of himself). He didn’t *need* to do this! But the ‘what ifs’ gnawed; self-slights and biting shame become yawning maws with serrated teeth. He’d already been bitten twice, he wouldn’t now become shy for it and waste the chance he’d secured. Especially not after groveling his way into the filth of bugs ‘good graces’ —
“You really do talk like you think even ‘he’ should be kneeling. Did you know that, Bugs?” Huffed as the swath of weight settled, and he twitched. Distracting himself by wondering what Headache must have been before he’d become a mess of chameleon-flies some forever ago. If Praxidike would’ve taken joy in killing this one in the same way he now felt thinly veiled revulsion for enduring its crawl. Before stepping off as bidden-—
“Sure—“ The word clipped as his stride through void, and out into lukewarm night air was cut sharply short when he caught sight of himself in the standing pane of dance-studio quality mirror he’d leaned up against one of the more secure walls. His breath arrested within the expanse of his chest as he caught a glimpse of how Headache had wrapped itself around him so — nigh ******** intimately — and he couldn’t help but touch one of the sprawling cracks nearest his eye…
And wish for Faustites cleansing fire.
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 12:45 pm
"He should be," the fleet of creatures confirmed. "He has a lot of promise and a lot to learn." A lot to unlearn, too, not that Albite would know or understand it. "He was set to become a good soldier under General Schörl. She gave him good instruction without spoiling him. But she left that instruction unfinished and the boy spoiled himself. It would be better for the Negaverse on the whole to follow more capable leadership than him, like Hessonite or Jet, and give Faustite more time to learn how to be effective again."
Likely all thoughts wasted on Albite, but Headache spoke them aloud for its own benefit. To give voice to them was to coax the truth into becoming.
They were here, then suddenly there, and the stale air of Destiny City breezed over them in a tepid welcome. Headache disliked revisiting the human metropolis, but it kept encountering circumstances where such a trip was necessary. This one in particular, if the Mirror Prince had some knowledge about Faustite's location. No, this meeting would undoubtedly be a waste of time, at best culminating in an offer from the Mirror Prince to help find him. But they wouldn't — shouldn't — have any knowledge pertaining to the General-King that the Negaverse didn't already have.
"Don't get distracted," came the disembodied voice, hummed across Albite's skin. "The Mirror Prince is neither enemy nor ally and won't tip his hand easily. Remember — if he's meeting with us, then he has something to gain from this. You've had weeks to ponder what that might be."
Then the guise of insects fell silent, expectant for one worthwhile arrival. And, ideally, a worthwhile end to this worthless excuse of a senshi that kept holding back its bonded.
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 2:14 pm
"I've got an idea--" Soft as silt slipping through a sieve, full of quiet hate. The words spoken quickly before Albite was following suit, shutting himself the ******** up with a drag of fingers over his own lips while adopting a stance that spoke of readiness he didn't quite feel.
Not when rage lingered so close to the surface, just beneath the lightest layer of where flesh met bugs--
Thinking of how *wrong* Headache was and always would be.
Thinking of how *Mark* The Prince of Mirros and Sadistic Spite -- Lord of questions that only *Mark* was allowed to ask, but wouldn't ever answer straight -- had to gain from all of this!
Albite had, after all, had weeks to ponder any number of things, but especially that....
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 2:38 pm
He dropped Eles off with a deep kiss and the picnic basket he'd asked Angelica to make up for them. He allowed no lingering good byes or be safes or whatever other assurances were supposed to be offered in the face of the looming, immediate, unknown. While Hybris always liked a little extra drama, tonight if felt a bit...unlucky. Better to treat all of this as an errand before a night out. A stopover before taking his boy to Geraldine's grave, where they'd first seen one another. Maybe talk about the wedding, or about building a mausoleum for two.
Walking steadily through to the mirror He knew held the old Farnsworth, Malory noticed there was only one mirror to be sensed nearby. Which hadn't been true a day ago. Well, he was prepared for any bit of unpleasantness. In the palm of his hand, he exchanged shadow charm for cracked bone before existing the mirror.
Just in case Araullo was a little too eager at the start.
Hybris left the mirror's cold embrace in a casual stroll.
Halting in surprise he took in the cracked and broken appearance of the man that looked, indeed, perfectly capable of snapping Hybris into a few beautiful pieces to mount on his wall. It really suited the voice on the phone.
"Araullo?"
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 3:03 pm
What walked through the mirror wasn't the Mirror Prince. This one could be no Prince at all, from what Headache could tell — it hadn't even earned its wings. That pathetic pinnacle of their power. Without that, Headache was certain it could have done away with this one on its own. Having Albite there meant it needn't even try once they had established that this mirror spawn knew nothing. As long as Albite obeyed, that meant one more starseed for Headache's sustenance.
Headache remained in place, scattered over Albite's body, as it waited for Albite to carry this conversation. To prove he was worth something, though it harbored no illusions that this boy was thoroughly defective. That he hadn't perished yet was purely due to Faustite's constant interventions.
And now, in this broken building of Eternal-versus-Super, there would be no intervention.
____________________________
While Eles chafed for more than that single probing kiss, something that would stay with him for longer than such an ephemeral taste of his boy, but Hybris move with such purpose that he was gone remarkably quick. A shame that he showed such speed so rarely, but Eles supposed it wouldn't help his delicate figure if he went sprinting about at every opportunity.
Eles only hoped he could be similarly quick to hear the action. Binoculars wouldn't do on their own, after all, and they weren't into such spycraft that Hybris was wearing a wire. After sparing enough consideration to stash the picnic basket behind the mirror, Eles flung open the door to the fire escape and started making his way down flight by flight. The real trouble, as he listened to his footfalls echo down the enclosed space, was staying undiscovered by the wary youma or Hybris himself, as Eles doubted that Dumpster Man (for as strange and almost endearing as Albite was) would take any notice of him.
When he reached the ground floor, Eles opened the fire escape with a careful peep, and upon seeing no movement in the adjacent building, he began making his way over on foot.
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 3:47 pm
Not Mark. Not Mark. Not Mark.
It was instinct to shatter the doorway 'Not Mark' had walked through, like a horse kicking out at a helicopter flying over its personal field --
The way Albite's magic did all the moving, without him needing to do more than flex and breathe. Striking out, whip-crack quick, at the image of 'Not Marks' back where it stood reflected in the mirror the dark haired man had just walked through. He still didn't quite *know* how Mirrors worked for their Senshi (For all that Muri had tried to impart wisdom and knowledge! For all that the Database had footnotes!). But he had hopes -- dreams -- longed in his heart to witness the not-so-little b*****d in front of him cutting himself on the chips of glistening panes and their clean, broken lines, if he attempted to exit their chat too quickly.
Like a rat squeezing through a pinhole---
This wasn't Mark. No Prince stood before him. He didn't have to be *gentle* so long as he didn't *touch* -- strip club rules -- and he thought oh so ********' irrationally of Ebon full Persona.
"Albite--" swift correction, a quieter growl amongst the noise, his lip curling with it. Because he hated being called Araullo like nothing else on Earth. And now he felt cheated by some blond b***h of a sadist who was oh so clearly toying with him!!
'But he has my name--'
Unless? And what if this was really the frucker he'd been talking to over the line for weeks on end? Getting needling texts from? Being goaded by---
'Except that Mark could've given it to him; my name, this location, this time. Sent him in his stead...'
He wouldn't've put it past a prince to do, one on the verge of a marriage, one who wanted to preserve their time and happiness. It was the smart thing to do even! To just send out some paper doll stand in, a fool-pidgeon of an emissary. A message boy who was close enough to Mark have meet in his stead with the -- <********> -- decidedly *not sovereign* of an Eternal Senshi that Albite knew he was -- and to insist it all be with -- Faustites -- now that he was thinking -- stand in of a youma.
It made sense.
"The actual ******** are you, Mark?"
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Super Sailor Scout Attack B: Lash of Retribution!
Albite’s tattoos appear to tear from his form, lightning quick, and lash out at his nearest opponent like mindless rabid animals. The magical bindings crack loudly through the air, creating a startling warning noise, just before they coil and yank across the opponent like an angry living whip. The player feels as though they've received a mild rope burn (pick body part) for up to thirty seconds, though no physical or lasting damage is done; only the very uncomfortable mental sensation of such, unless the target’s player wants to sustain any lasting damage. The whipcrack loud noise prior to the attack striking serves as warning so the attack can be dodged. Effect: Instantaneous Range: 6ft Duration: 30 Seconds Usage: 3x Times Targets: 1
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 4:10 pm
The breaking mirror was a little shocking in its abrupt violence. Hybris jolted, arms crossing protectively in front of his chest, eyes wide and a bit incredulous. That had been fast. Faster than his little cheats? He could only hope, really.
But. It hadn't been an over eager attempt to kill him, now had it? Cut off his "only" escape, maybe. But there was still restraint for what, after a few moments, Hybris thought might be a temper tantrum. A purely emotional lashing out.
If he had thought the man would be easier to read in person than over the phone, well. He was right. And it was awful. Truly a swamp of a person, perpetually hungry to pull the unwary under the weight of his moods.
Rage, betrayal, and the sudden realization of a slipped leash.
"Ok...Albite? Is it?" His voice stayed soft and reasoning, "Why do you keep calling me Mark? You did on the phone, too."
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 4:27 pm
That one. Headache felt no kinship with it.
When Albite let loose his furor and shattered that senshi's sole escape, Headache did not feel sorry for it. The youma recalled encountering that one twice, as a handful of its bodies crumbled to dust under Albite's lash, and it knew this one liked it. Liked it, as if they had anything to do with each other that was more constructive than mutually assured destruction. It should have gone for that one's starseed over the blonde twig that stood next to him.
There would be time to find that blonde one again. There would not be another chance to learn what this one knows and eliminate it, however. Certainly not without the Negaverse and the Court finding out about their indiscretion.
So the parts of Headache that comprised a cape were instead diverted to making more of those tattooed lashes, those whipping, insulting things that slunk about greedily. Those pseudo-lashes feinted at the one Albite called Mark, that Albite thought was a Prince, to watch that flinch one more time. To come just a little closer to that starseed.
____________________________
The parking lot was, unsurprisingly, dead and devoid of people. He'd gone to the library and spent hours reading about the Farnsworth when that location was made known to him; it had caught fire in some sort of freak accident. Fashionably dressed terrorists were involved. Queue a long wait for insurance funds and then the building's owner started renovating it. Scraping out all the eschar and putting up new drywall and painting away all that history with new, muted colors.
But then, the project just stopped. And, as Eles crept up to the glass double doors that led to the building's reception area, he realized they were rather close to finishing the renovation. Why stop, then? And why leave all that construction equipment outside to rust in the rain?
The door whispered closed behind him with the help of a hydraulic brace. Inside, the building housed that permeating smell of new paint and fresh sealant that had never been given the time nor chance to air out. Something thick much too noticeable. He ventured forth a few steps on the plush new rug.
Then, in the bowels of the building, he heard something shatter. Tensing for just a moment, Eles broke into a jog as he looked for a way downstairs.
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 4:53 pm
"You're just -- made of questions, aren't you?" It was infuriating, truly, and he didn't mean to look so struck by the gall of the situation. But before him stood the little ******** from beyond the phone lines, asking, asking, asking. Always asking! Albite could admit that he'd been spoilt my Muri's ability to give answers like he cared! But then, maybe this was why he'd really traded blousy grays and dark purples for spans of white sash and tiara? Because every single person with 'mirror' writ across their aura was a tree sitting, popcorn eating, s**t stirrer. No matter how much Muri had lauded praise about Rem's existence? Waru was starting to think he was too. Hypocritical of him to believe the Prince maybe resembled his subordinates in any capacity --- but ---
"A thousand ******** asks and not a single introduction -- you give straight, n'honest answers just about as much as I take trips to the moon. Don'tcha? Remarque---'" Because he could say it right, had had it written out, spoken down, explained.
A name that ended in a question, the same way his ended in retribution. Someone elses name, apparently. Not this ones. The raven haired not blond who was really ******** with Albites perception of what should've been...
"Who you ******** aren't. Obviously." Sharp grit, whip quick, full of regret, for his own, honest stupidity. He felt a fool on the verge of frenzy, his mood wound as wrong and sideways as the lash of Headaches false-tentacles about his form. Filthy little mimic. But maybe he was thankful for the bit of edge the Youma gave him this once? "Which leaves me kicking myself...just a bit...not that you need t'be him t'pass all that info you promised on, huhn?" His gaze dragging the ground, the man, the space between them -- a flash of something far more calculating than instinct flitting across his pupils -- narrow and thoughtful, even in the dimness of the space.
"You do have info for me...don'cha? We made each other all those promises..."
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 5:19 pm
"You thought I was Remarque?" Another question, but at least this one was rhetorical. And once again, there were the sympathetic, pitying tones of unasked forgiveness. Slowly, he spelled it out clearly. "Because I asked you to honor the agreement, between Prince Remarque and your queen. Re-mark. Mark."
His heart was running rabbit fast, and he couldn't quite help moving back bit by bit as those tattoos continued to lash near. Was he being herded? Or was it simply the man trying to get his own back. Either way, he had a sense that this meeting would be better for him the briefer it was.
"My name is Hybris. I'm the Senshi of," Eggplants no, he couldn't trust insane animal instinct not to pick up on the lie. Possibly not pick up on the truth either. Which, in a way, was much the way his first encounter with Faustite had gone. "I'm the Senshi of Reflection. You're a lot stronger than me, not only as an eternal. And my magic cannot be used for attack, restraint, or defense."
Slipping the cracked bone back into his space, he raised two empty hands, "I am, in all honesty, terrifyingly helpless right now, okay." All but bearing his throat and tender stomach to the other man.
"I just need to ask you one thing, and I won't bother you about the youma anymore. I'll help you as much as is safe." For Eles at least.
"There was a woman. In the Negaverse. Someone who hurt him, over and over, until she burned him up and burned him out." Somehow the calculating look was just as bad, maybe worse, than the violence of his emotion. A lash came close to his face, and he couldn't help jerking back again.
"Is she still there? Would she be waiting for him on return?"
Something felt wrong about that last warning attack. Eyes steadily on the Eternal, Hybris saw something was different in how he looked now too.
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 5:42 pm
A wretched, deepening, humming sound filled the narrow room. Like a judgment cast by an esoteric machine, the cracks evaporated from Albite's skin. The remaining hateful tendrils melted away, as if retreating back into ink. A soft flicker of orange light, like a fire waiting to start, and then a General dressed in wealthy greens and golds and pearl stood with a dragon cane perched against the floor. She smiled, and perhaps there was a measure of delight in that smile, but it was reserved for an inevitable destruction of the boy before them. That smile was only interested in a tender pain and suffering that it could twist into broken and pleading horror.
"See it surrender," came her voice, "and how it begs to be martyred. Were you twice as smart as you are strong, Albite, I'd ask if you remember what happened to the little white horses on the little red hill.
"It really is a pity. You lack both the wit and the weapon to carry it out." Then she was gone — dissolved into a cloud of fireflies that lit upon ceiling and walls, each flashing in a careful strobe to keep the mirror spawn illuminated for quite the fateful encounter.
It knew how little Faustite spoke of Schörl, even to his own. Clever child of the Mirror had come upon that information, a tender weakness that Faustite so despised, but knowing that alone said nothing of Faustite's whereabouts. It could have squeezed such information about Faustite's failure of an albatross, so wrung around his neck that he nearly choked to death under the weight of Heliodor's mistakes. Fitting if Heliodor was the weakest link that let Faustite's secret slip its leash.
____________________________
The first stairwell he found was locked, and it wasn't the type of door that would let him fiddle it open with some bobby pins and a dash of patience. No, this one expected a keycard by the look of it, but the power was long gone and nothing was moving its mechanical lock from its spot. So he kept winding his way through the building, through the winding floor plan, beyond desks still covered in ash and sections of offices untouched by renovation. On his way, he glimpsed footprints in leftover ash and drag marks here or there — signs of the scuffle that was, surely — but no overt sign of Hybris. No Albite. No swarm of youma-bugs.
While curiosity begged him to slow down and peruse this building for its story, his excitement for watching Hybris and Albite match off against each other urged him onward. Eventually, having gotten to the other side of the building's great central column, he found himself a fire door. Those, helpfully, weren't allowed to be locked.
So he pushed past it. The stairwell was that much darker for its lack of windows, almost pitch, and Eles wished for the foresight to have grabbed one of those industrial construction lights on the way into the building. But, lacking that, he had enough practice with his phone that if he just touched a button to light it up, he could press his finger to a flashlight icon and expect a meager light to chase away some of that darkness. Immediately he felt clever as he continued his pursuit of a few faint voices.
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 9:26 pm
If the person he'd been talking to wasn't Remarque himself? Then Albite'd at least believed that Remarque would've come along! Like some ever-present parent ready to show up at his child's every first event! A kind, blond, parental soul at the side of whichever Mirror-Maids had decided to play nice while safe-harboring information about his husband. Especially if they were maybe the ones who had been keeping Faustite wherever he was now? Kindly, he was sure! Kindly. Because even zoo keepers had good intentions and a noble purpose behind every abandoned whale, tiger, and bear they pulled out of the wild to ‘save’.
That was what Albite wanted to believe as he was nodding along, ignoring the newest inflammatory bout of forgiveness that flowed past Hybris's lips (He had a name now!). His wonderment over whether the other man had the sort of condition that forced him to take false confessions and absolve people of any future transgressions before they came to pass.
“Everything about you—” A breath, because if he was talking then he was processing, and he was sure as ******** processing. Everything. “--it reminds me of when my sister and I used to play dolls. The ones our mom would buy her sometimes on the way back from the city. For when she’d been good.” The nursery rhyme from the bug's false lips was new, or was it a riddle? He had no room to spare for thought of Schörl’s dissolving voice hissing in his ear. There was only relief for Headache finally scattering off his skin to flicker in the eaves of corners, while covering the ceiling like vigilant tiles casting a spotlight onto a stage-play with the one star! He badly repressed a shudder for finally being free of the bugs itching weight. He had the bandwidth to do little more than that.
“The long, dark hair-–” Not when his rage had coalesced into a singular point of interest within the eye of his own private storm; Hybris – useless – taunting-- And what a silly, masturbatory sounding sphere the other man’d been burdened by the mirror with! The poor, poor thing. Albite nearly felt bad for him! “-- and these big, pleading eyes. A cupid's bow of a mouth. Always painted…she always gave them the silliest little names….” He shifted, a fidget of motion, and it was as if he needed to pace out of his own skin, but was holding off by will alone. His rambling nonsense clearly masking an urge he yearned to give in to as his mouth ran on without answering anything at all.
“Except…when she’d get in trouble? The dolls would get put up on the highest shelf in the house.” His gaze was kept for Hybris; every vulnerability exposed, a pale fish laid out in the sun. Easy, easy, easiest Mark there ever was— “But? Because I was, just, the coolest big brother around? When it’d get late enough that our mom’d be asleep…we’d sneak into the kitchen–– and I’d get the dolls back for her! And then?” He stepped back as he spoke, finally. Arms raised to mimic Hybris own, shifting away to give the man the sense of having more space..
One step, two—
A third—
As his heel hit the floor he leaned his weight back onto its thick sole, the air around him snapping like poppers on fourth of july as he teleported in oh so close—
“Me n’her would keep playing.”
That pale throat was so pretty—
The Senshis center mass so lithe and lightly draped with sheer wrapping–
He wanted nothing more, as he lunged at Hybris from kissing distance with all the magic he owned, than to tear the man limb from limb, and spread his ashes at Headaches feet like a garnish round a starseed. To teach him a lesson about *slander* -- for the insinuation that he couldn't keep his own ******** husband safe *from anyone* -- past, present, future!! The way it felt like an oily insinuation that he wouldn't have died a thousand times over *just* to protect Faustite -- from any nebulous threat that existed in striking range -- or from his boys very own, labyrinth filled with minotaurs and medusas, mind -- that he -- and his team -- weren't formidable *enough* to murder nightmares, shank dreams, and banish into deeper Hells than what Metallia had dug whatever kinds of *ghosts* dared to rise up as a threat!
'Of course -- if I kill him -- I won't find Faustite, will I? But no, that's fine, that's what backup plans are for...'
He thought, trying to chain the black haired dog to him, to press him through the floor beneath his own weight, that he was instead going to put 'Hybris' on the highest ******** shelf he knew of -- the sort that existed in the deepest part of the darkest dungeon he could find in the Scar of the Rift. And after he'd gotten all his answers? The ones Hybris seemed to hold so dearly close to his chest, like they were the brightest of treasures! The answers he kept locked behind more, and more, and more questions! Maybe then? If the poor little senshi asked him nicely enough -- if Hybris promised to play well with him from now on!!
He'd get the brat down from the 'time out' he'd clearly been screaming for from the start.
All of Albites tattoos appear to tear from his skin, lashing him to his three nearest enemies. They weigh like chains, and can squeeze to the point of bruising. The magic in the tattoos creates the feeling of being choked and beaten by a heavy hand; giving an opponent the sensation of being driven down and short of breath. Albites opponents can still move/fight, but remain bound to Albite until the magic is ended, or the bonds severed. The tattoo tethers are still magical and so can draw no blood. No physical or lasting damage is done, unless the target’s player wishes it. The illusion ends after 25 seconds. In which the bindings vanish along with the sensations. Range: 15 Feet Duration: 25 seconds Number of uses: 1 Number of targets: 3
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Posted: Sat Jul 26, 2025 10:15 pm
They champ.
They stamp.
So the youma had been there all along and Hybris could only admire its cleverness and forgive its hateful instincts. It wanted him eaten, and that was fair. It wanted to provide their lighting, and that Hybris couldn't judge at all, not with his mirror all in pieces on the floor. But at least he knew what she looked like now.
Albite began telling him a story that was less a story and more a litany. A recitement as he restrained and restrained, and twisted himself into a coiling power. It was time to go, but Hybris instead waited on that chance of a yes or a no. Though that chance dwindled with every word.
Albite was bad at listening. If not in general then at least when is came to specific wording. Undiagnosed ADHD or similar maybe. Had a sister. Had some small hero complex. His mother was breadwinner and disciplinarian. Single parent household. He wants to move so badly. Being able to do what he wants is probably all the permission he needs to-
The continuous observation and assessment that quietly ran at the back of his mind stuttered to an abrupt stop as Albite appeared, teleported, right in front Hybris. Ink made solid wrapped around him like a full body punch, and he would have reeled back if he wasn't bound to the eternal. And then they began to constrict.
Heart pounding and breathing rapid, Hybris had to decide whether to fight for control or play further into his pain.
Coughing up a mouthful of blood, he gazed up at the man with eyes wide and wet with pain, unshed tears rising up to the brink of him. "Yes...or no?" Hybris panted, giving Albite one last chance to answer a simple ******** question.
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