ใ€Œ โ› ๐ˆ๐๐๐ˆ๐’๐“๐‘๐€๐ƒ ๐ˆ๐๐•๐€๐’๐ˆ๐Ž๐ โœ ใ€

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ใ€Œ โ› ๐‘ฐ ๐‘ฎ๐‘ถ๐‘ป ๐‘ป๐‘ฏ๐‘ฐ๐‘บ ๐‘ญ๐‘ฌ๐‘ฌ๐‘ณ๐‘ฐ๐‘ต๐‘ฎ โœ ใ€

Postby รฉros » Wed Feb 17, 2021 5:12 pm

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Possessing temporary living quarters within Church land was more trouble than it was worth, the disciples preached order and
made polite with words, however, the internal workings of the sect painted a disparate visualization. Where he was promised
quiet, he was repaid with hearsay among their people. Fastening the last of an incredulous number of buckles, Elwin adorned
the familiar garish dark metal armor of his own Markov family, distaste shadowing his striking features after one gloss over his
appearance. The only semblance of satisfaction bloomed at the lingering thought of being spared from wearing the Church's
personal uniform, while it may also compliment his countenance he'd rather be affiliated with vampiric monsters as opposed
to mortal ones. A faint brush of fingers swept his obsidian hair from obscuring his vision, a foul reminder of his entitlement
and how he'd been removed from his own extensive and prideful locks. Others considered the high pony-tail that he'd donned
a symbol of his adolescence, his image was once unchanging until they'd forcefully plucked at his sophisticated plumage. It
was a matter dignity in his red beryl eyes, he'd felt like a fierce lion who had been thrown into captivity naked. Releasing a
short but heavy breath he left his grand Church residence, his equally imperious companion taking that as her cue to follow.

Unforeseen was the sudden leave that Elwin was granted, as the head of countless endeavours in the name of the Church of
Avacyn it was simply unorthodox for the sleepless beast to be found so far from the heat of battle. One could smell the putrid
stench of conspiracy laying in the wake of such silence, a single day in the absence of deaths at the hand of Elwin The
Broodslayer caused canards to spread faster than the beat of a hummingbird's wings. Ignorant to the ushered chatter that
circulated him, the lofty vampire walked in large and purposeful strides through the Church's grounds, lighter and far less
invested clicks could be heard following decorously behind him as Tartarus' dagger like claws grated the cobblestone pavement.
"They're talking about you," rich was the voice that appeared in Elwin's mind, his great dragon partner sneered in her tone and
he couldn't help but share the sentiment, albeit in a more restrained manner as he grunted in acknowledgement. "Do you
ponder the meaning of this morning's gathering?" As much as the black haired Markov wanted to pretend he were a deaf
man, he knew better than any that the ink-scaled dragoness would not drop her mental invasion until after he'd replied.
Suppressing the rising urge to pinch the bridge of his tall nose he internally conceded, Tartarus cared not for the ire she could
feel from him, more so pleased at his submission. "Considering that you're invited, this venerable one can only assume that
it's important enough for them to risk their heads,"dripping with a foreign drawl native to vampire aristocracy, he spoke
in a manner that gave way to his position and promptly shut the topic, she merely chuckled at his choice of words before
settling back into silence.

Once the pair arrived at the designated meeting room Tartarus took the lead and claimed their spot, across the round table
adjacent to the doors, what was commonly referred to as the head of the table. They had made an entrance at the exact
time forewarned, Elwin's obsession with punctuality was to blame. While he was prompt he wasn't the first present, however,
he wasn't usually keen on small talk so he stood with his arms crossed in silence hoping to impose his unwillingness for speech.
Familiar figures slowly flooded the space with the sheer mass of their dragons, some with hefty presences of their own that
only served to further the sense of suffocation that Elwin was battling up until the moment he watched Rune enter alone.
Offering a sloped raise of his lips in response to her nod, his clouded mood briefly clearing. Such peace was short lived as
Aoba, a paradox himself, began his spiel even going as far as cracking jokes despite how mundane the mission was growing.
Frequent frowning would have left deep impression lines on Elwin's forehead had he not been an immortal creature, his mind
busying itself by processing the pathetic snippets of information they were handed. Lifting his head Elwin noted the entry of a
particularly poorly received guest, also known as Io, another Church dog who came across a little less than completely
manipulated under their nauseating grasp. The fiery quip Aoba told was fearless in the face of potential backlash, causing
Tartarus to chortle deeply in her chest as smoke erupted from all four of her nasal orifices. She declined one of her heads to
hover over Elwin's shoulder while Io addressed her companion, "you should be taking notes from the blue haired mage,"
still reeling from her unexpected mirth he took those words in stride whilst blaming her affect on his own emotions. "Not
nearly long enough little vagrant slave," offering a less than flatting response, concealing the way his blue toned skin itched
at the idea of simply reaching over and wringing the, frankly appetizing, disciple's neck. Tartarus, caught off guard when she
was addressed informally so by a meager human, plainly blinked and assessed the newcomer with mild interest. Hearing Io's
dismissal of jokingly flying with him, he turned to face his beloved friend he added kindling to the flame while the opportunity
was still fresh, "be thankful Tara, who knows of the bugs that rodent may carry," a sentence that served to
send Tartarus into another short wave of haughty laughter, impressed by her stoic partner's boldness.

In light of Io's approach to Rune, Elwin had quickly come to terms with his overstepping feeling little of the worry he had
harbored moments prior. What he didn't appreciate was the way that she'd singled out but he resigned to manifesting negative
energy toward Io's general direction. If they were being honest, Elwin would say that he lacked care for the dragon wreaking
havoc across vampire land, however, the Church of Avacyn wouldn't stand for insubordination and it wasn't in his nature to
outwardly confer his personal view so he stood impassive to the situation. The meeting itself was beginning to tug on Elwin's
self-restraint, from the foolish sayings of those present to the faked amiability he'd almost experienced enough for a lifetime,
Calypso was a finely polished warrior but he had to stifle an elegant snort when she suggested needing 'additional help,' if only
she'd observed the attendees closer she'd have noticed that the martial prowess and potential of both living and undead present
was freakishly unnatural. What they required another Church fanatic for was beyond his reasoning, comfortably tucked behind
his contempt for holy beings. Tartarus began posturing, flaring both sets of frills and puffing her jagged chest out upon notice
of Valkor's reaction to Elwin, not quite fond of his species' relationship with dark creatures she continued to size him up until
they could both relax. Her attention was quickly divided between avidly watching one Valkor and greeting the red head's dragon
counterpart, narrowing endless red eyes she looked down on the oddly feathered, quad-winged bird in front of her. Quickly
considering him nothing of a threat she snaked her head from side to side appraising the odd beast, "and here I thought I
looked strange," ignoring his greeting in favour of thinking out loud as she craned her neck to look closer at Cantivore's
many wings. Having long lost interest, he watched the interaction with fascination amused by Tartarus' beguilement, not
bothering to start conversation with any group or individual.
words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words words
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archetype;xxxx vampiric operative
alignment;xxxxxxxx.. chaotic good
dragon;xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.. tartarus
tags/ment;xxxx everyone probably
word count;xxxxxxxxxxxx.... 1284
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รฉros
 
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ใ€Œ โ› 002 โœ ใ€it's been 3yrs we r soooo back

Postby cheshire. » Thu Jan 18, 2024 1:05 pm

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      ใ€Œ๐€๐Ž๐๐€ ๐€๐„๐‘๐‡๐€๐”๐’ใ€-โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
      XX-archetype: the planeswalker๏ผ๏ผ statistics: โ™‚, twenty-four, chaotic neutral๏ผ๏ผ dragon: panzerchic๏ผ๏ผ tags: everyone๏ผ๏ผ words: 3, 840๏ผ๏ผ
      โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€

      โ€Žโ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€Clever as the planeswalker was, the longer the dialogue proceeded among the participants, the more Aoba garnered that he was not to underestimate his companions. Each established their intentions like ducks in a row, whether revealed in a couple sentences or disguised in layers of discussion, and the young man came to see their overwhelming similarity of power. More frightening was that more than half the party were only nascent in terms of harnessing their potential. With an authoritative posture to complement complex armour that easily superseded anything the rest of them had donned, Calypso certainly seemed the most mighty from the offset. She could tame fire-breathing serpents with presence alone, her magnificent companion the most notable accolade which any in the room would be foolish not to admire. Aoba didn't even need to see to acknowledge Panzerchic's adoration of the Moonveil, he could feel it caressing the outer of his psyche, nearly dulling his perception with the dreaminess of her adolescent excitement. He spared Calypso a 'really?' raised brow when she acknowledged Io's arrival with gratitude, her going as far as to imply he was a needed benefit to the team. Io certainly didn't need any more authority beyond what the Church had given him at the last moment - the bastards. It only took a little deduction to see that while Io appeared far under the league of the dragon riders, he wouldn't have been put among them without thought. So while he seemed below par on the exterior, Aoba found that the more Io spoke the more he sensed immense capability. How he would show that when on the battlefield with four dragons was beyond Aoba's current foresight. If he truly was to report back to the Church then Aoba guessed he had prowess capable of succeeding that task despite obstacles as large as dragons and armies of vampires.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€Eliadesโ€™ address of Aoba hit the younger in a way that left his mouth dry. He was sure that his identity was well-concealed behind alibis and incantations of deception upon his arrival onto the planeโ€ฆand yet Ioโ€™s tone was enough to edge Aoba into mild suspicion. Had he underestimated the Church? Had they obtained data about him without his knowledge? He knew he had a name that ran through certain places of Innistrad but certainly not like the other members. Ioโ€™s apparent knowledge of Aoba was a little more than he would've liked, rudimentary as the information was. His face inscrutable aside from the slightest narrowing of his eyes, Aoba broke the expression to give a sudden disarming grin, โ€œlikewise, Eliades.โ€ Whatever Io intended to pry from Aobaโ€™s brain would not come without resistance, he had no intention of giving the disciple anything without equivalent exchange. He noted Ioโ€™s tone shift towards Pan, yet another gesture that affected the planeswalker more than he should've let himself be. He viewed Panzerchic like a fumbling child and as good as an informant when being spoken to, so loose and careless was her tongue in comparison to the tight-lipped rider. Donโ€™t fall for his warmth and donโ€™t stray far from my influence, he ordered her before she could even reply to Io, always quick to control Panโ€™s autonomy with his unyielding view of her inferiority. She obeyed, dropping her eyes blankly to the floor rather than respond to Io, so conditioned was she from hatch to Aobaโ€™s commands.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€Rune's affirmation of taking up navigator was responded with by a gracious nod from Aoba, he had barely a moment to inquire on advantageous landing spots and camp sites fit for the size of their group when Io pressed into Rune's attention. He wasn't shocked that the pious disciple would turn down the original suggestions - they were, after all, only meant to provoke the new member. Whether it was because he had the unfortunate task of representing the despised Church's face or Aoba's personal offense at his sudden promotion of leadership among them, neither served well in warming the blue-haired man to the new company. Not just that but Io's announcement of Rune's capabilities to the room gave Aoba nothing less of an impression of egotism. Whether she had wanted to withhold that information until later or not was no longer her choice, though Aoba spared her no sympathy for his friend. Rune must've learned long ago that her reputation would always precede her and most of all; she had no say in her fate. โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Žโ€โ€Long before she could've ever known, the Church of Avacyn had been steering her into the jaws of a dragon whose power they could harness best through another human; one affable, naive and malleable. Wantonly ignorant to his own emanating hubris he surveyed Rune and the room around her, noting Io's advance, Pan's longing gaze and...what was that? A curve in his lips disguised under a dimple that only ever surfaced when the planeswalker smirked, he did well to keep his gaze from being too detectable as he landed it upon Elwin.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€None had seen combat like the vampiric war chief nor the weaponised mastery of Rune's acquired skill. Even now while she struggled to grasp the potential of her burgeoning abilities she was a devastating ally to have on any team and the Church had since made good use of her whether she may have wanted it or not. Aoba assumed with near certainty that the two would have encountered each other through countless bloody battles waged in the name of a cause he was equally certain neither cared for. He highly doubted anyone saw Elwin beyond his disapproving stare at Io but Aoba knew better and understood there were long running ties between Elwin and Rune that he could only witness the surface of. Whatever their connection, Aoba resigned himself to investigate further through Rune at a later date, as any interrogation of Elwin would likely have a bloody end.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ Compared to Aoba's constant machinations, Panzerchic was living in thoughtless bliss. Rarely on the same strand of thought as her rider meant gatherings with lots of stimulus often separated them through their own contrasting agendas. Her rider seldom coordinated himself in a way without strategic reward whereas Panzerchic was driven by her heartโ€™s whim. She rumbled unobtrusively when Rune commented on her height, daring not to flex in presentation less Aoba scold her, as much as she wanted to show Rune how well she had grown since they last met. The dragon caught Cantivoreโ€™s hello and quickly diverted her attention to breeze her tail over the quad-wings of the crimson beast in a playful reply. Just as quickly as Rune had made her feel grown, Carnivoreโ€™s scale causing Pan to stretch her tail to reach him was quick to humble and remind her that she was still a whelp in the eyes of her kin.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ More surmountable than any of the dragonโ€™s size was the boldness of Io as he addressed Elwin and Tartarus with words so congenial yet had the dragon flinching. She could not grasp Tartarusโ€™s humour as she enabled Aobaโ€™s provocations and delighted in her own rider's threat of vermin stowed away on Ioโ€™s alabaster robes. Io seemed far beyond the quips of the more dastardly members as he breezed on to speak with others, leaving Pan to eye Tartarus again. The double-headed dragon was frightening to the younger serpent and her shoulder pressed into Cantivoreโ€™s larger thighs for comfort. His size, familiarity and warmth sparked a low purr in the belly of her chest, though it was short lived. When one of Tartarusโ€™s long napes snaked around to address Cantivore, the blue dragon startled again at the mere sight of the matriarch dragon, skittering back and away from them both.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€Like a puppy that had suddenly become aware it was lost, she moved joltingly, clambering to find an older soul who could ground the whelp. What more induced safety and protection than the Moonveil? This scramble lead to her tail brushing Valkorโ€™s, to both greet and warn him of her approach. Exercising her youth to bypass formalities, Panzerchicโ€™s fright had her mind resigned to primal direction and she, perhaps rudely, stuffed her head between Valkorโ€™s foreleg and belly. She had clumsily believed he was unattended and upon poking her head out from under Valkorโ€™s chest she balked to see yet another head of Tartarus pointed in their direction. While the head seemed absent, perhaps because Cantivore was consuming more of her attention, Panzerchic could read from it that Tartarus was just as wary of Valkor as he may be to her rider. Realising now Tartarusโ€™s mass, presence and domination was inescapable she began flattening her quills.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€Already a naturally lithe dragon, Panzerchicโ€™s display of submission cut nearly a third of her size as the jagged scales along her pinions smoothed, quills sticking to her bodice like she was slick with water. Head low now, still cowering a little under Valkor, Panzerchic chittered like a young dragon would, hoping to appeal to Tartarusโ€™s maternity. When words and the culture of humans failed her, Pan was quick to trust her instincts, and she had a feeling Tartarus may be the same. Even with her focus on the large, double-headed monster, Pan still quivered delightedly at the masculine Valkor above her, having wished to address him a little better but now no less grateful to be in such proximity to the glittering thing. While all her kin awed her she was inclined by a chemically surfacing desire to ingratiate herself with Valkor in the hopes to whisk him away in a nesting fantasy. Still silken with her quills down the dragon exhibited behaviour unique to her sub-species, flexing them in rolling waves down her body in what could only be called an attempt to impress the others as her elbows buckled and she rolled on her back to lay stomach up underneath Valkor. The waves created muted clicks as they loosened and locked into place with one another, a gesture she could only do due to the initial flattening evolved for swimming.
      She spared a few playful squirms on her spine, tail lashing to balance as the dragon broke the ice amongst serpents by attempting to remind them they were all of a kind and the politics of humans could easily be shirked off in the name of remembering as such. As much as she feared Tartarus, pined for Valkor, found rivalry in Cantivore, she could only do so because they were all dragons despite their differences.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ โ€Žโ€โ€โ€ŽAs best as he could to keep Panzerchicโ€™s unschooled agenda from his mind there were often leaks whether he wanted it or not, so entwined was a dragon to their rider. Perhaps it was the whim of her heart that urged him to do so but he eventually spared his critical observations to sweep lazily over the most unconcerning of his connections.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ He had just gone about reassuring himself that Raini was one of the few he could trust to keep in line when a flash of blue smeared the russet locks of the artificer. Like a projector in his mind Aoba rolled the tape of his last encounter with Raini and a brief replay of the man shirtless - more than shirtless, on Aobaโ€™s waist and untying the ribbon from his own hair before heโ€™d push the planeswalker the remainder of the way onto the bed.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ He cursed in his thoughts.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ โ€Žโ€โ€โ€ŽPan, whether sheโ€™d realised or not, had been influenced by his memories and he dared not look at her embarrassing displays on her back lest any of the rest know his memories had emboldened her. Instead his gaze remained pensively on Artie, silently cursing again but this time in the artificerโ€™s name for his mischievous games. Cold as his negligence could be, his attention was just as gusty, and Aoba spared Artie no broken gaze as he approached while the rest busied themselves with Panโ€™s spectacle. Perhaps another prompt for his approach was to assert himself over the other where Io and the others could see. Arcturus had been quiet during the conversation, something Aoba figured was more by nature than strategy, and Aoba ordained he would have the others know whether Artie had said it or not(whether even he had said it to Artie) that the artificer belonged to him. Arcturus had moodily turned his back to him after fixing his hunting trophy to his locks but Aoba was not deterred as he possessively came from behind to grab Arcturusโ€™s wrist. He pulled the younger from the cluster rather shamelessly, forefronting it with an ironic, โ€œlet's talk cogs and gears over here for a sec.โ€ His grip was firm but brief enough to avoid protest as he half pulled half threw Arcturus to a corner semi-shaded by the darkened draperies; one of the many cloisters of the building just a couple strides from the group.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ โ€Žโ€โ€โ€ŽFor a second Aobaโ€™s temper swelled and now with his back to the others and Arcturus in front of him, the planeswalkers guard was quick to slip. His brows knit and lips thinned as he stared at Artie, allowing a painful silence to grow between them while he picked apart his own thoughts. Aoba was oblivious to how his complex behaviour likely complicated his relationships as he stood there glowering at the auburn. It was a moment longer still until he pinned it down. He was afraid of Artie being here, defensive of the other, misdirecting his anger. He wanted to control him, to move him away from the politics he knew the other didnโ€™t understand nor care to learn about.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ โ€Žโ€โ€โ€ŽHe broke his stony stance to slacken his shoulders a little, face softening back to its handsome features as he reached his fingers tenderly out to touch first the ribbon, tracing it down before his fingers left fabric and whispered over Arcturusโ€™s jaw. He knew he was being hot and cold, was that something Artie didnโ€™t understand either? Probably, the planeswalker thought dully to himself as he let his arm drop. All this and still not a word, Aoba forced a smirk, โ€œI didnโ€™t take you for a thief, Art,โ€ he finally said in reference to the ribbon.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ โ€œYou need a haircut, again,โ€ he added, unable to find the proper way to articulate his concern. Instead he fell back to softer times, chasing Arcturus around the island until he used magic to force him to a tree stump so that he could have a haircut. It was even more of a lost mission when heโ€™d suggested bathing Cantivore, heโ€™d been so exhausted from the tussle with Artieโ€™s ruly hair that heโ€™d resigned to let Cantivore tramp muddy feet through the buildings. โ€œI guess I can forgive the stealing for such a charity case of hair,โ€ Aoba teased, though through all of this he was blatantly aware Arcturus was pissed off and his condescending comments were definitely making it worse. He could see it and yet he couldnโ€™t stop himself from saying the wrong thing. Had Pan been free he mightโ€™ve even let her offer some advice here but instead heโ€™d let himself isolate with the person who got him vulnerable quicker than any other, realising now his emotions had prompted him to grab Arcturus in the first place.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ โ€œSorry,โ€ he finally said, restarting. He didnโ€™t elaborate, his pride wouldnโ€™t let him. Arcturus knew him well enough to not need explanation anyway, heโ€™d only ask if he wanted to see Aoba squirm. He nodded to the ribbon, โ€œreturn that to me when you have a moment to apologiseโ€ฆgratuitously.โ€ This time the tease lacked edge, eyes lingering gently on Arcturusโ€™s lips before back up to his eyes so he knew Aoba lacked no bite in this invitation.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ With that he backed to give the man space before matching his pace back to the others. โ€œPanzerchic,โ€ he finally addressed his dragon aloud. He rarely used his voice for her and the dragon knew it was more to prompt the group than herself. She cocked her head from where she lay under Valkor, having been enjoying her time chittering and barking to the other dragons in their primal voice. Nimbly clambering out from under the moonveil she pranced to Aobaโ€™s side, spikes re-emerging on her with an airy thwack as they simultaneously burst from her body. Her wings had the similar ability to engrave onto her body and took more of an effort to lift from her flanks as the young dragon arched her back like a cat to assist the appendages in coming free. Aoba patiently allowed her to ready herself as guards cleared one of the grand archways that navigated to an open balcony. The roofs fell away, statues and gardens thinned until it was a marble paved circle, jutting over the elevated church. Hundreds of metres of cliff dropped down before small buildings began to jut from the rock, finally smoothing out into the surrounding city below. The Church had the most magnificent view over Thraben, able to see the outer edges of the cityโ€™s walls and bulwarks and even further still where the farmlands hugged the outskirts of the city as though the guards would ever stray outside the walls to defend them.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€Panzerchic was just finishing flexing her wings as she padded out into the air after her rider. Behind her she could see the shimmering armour and worn leathers of the riders and their dragonโ€™s gears. Unlike them, Pan was ridden bare. Her rider had a terrible tendency to coat them in elements that devoured whatever they wore and Aoba had long since given up fashioning fire/water/lightning/acid/every element-proof saddles for his mount. The best heโ€™d managed to find were enchanted undergarments from a long-dead sorcerer that, when destroyed, re-manifested themselves onto the user after a few seconds delay. Aoba had spent months trying to find the sorcererโ€™s resting site so that he could loot the rest of the enchanted outfit but heโ€™d had no luck.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ Also unlike them, Pan didnโ€™t have to crouch too awfully when Aoba came to sit upon her. Aoba could still clamber quite easily up her front leg to her shoulder blades and he gave the adolescent dragon a readying pat to her neck when heโ€™d fixed himself securely. Or, as securely as you could when you were a bad dragon rider with no saddle. All dignity went out the window when Aoba was on a dragon and the team probably knew it. He dared not look at Arcturus, Rune or Elwin for he was sure theyโ€™d be in some state of laughing or jeering already.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ Ready? Pan asked and stifled a chuckle as Aoba squeezed his eyes shut and muttered, just go already.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ She needed no second order. The dragon was small enough that she took flight with no run, haunches scrunching beneath her as she pounced like a cat into the air. Her wings gave a few powerful sweeps of the grounds, one nicking the marble and knocking the dragon from her balance. Oops, not quite there yet, Pan spared a back leg to touch the ground again and give her one extra little bounce before she steadied and outstretched her forelegs. The balance tilted her forward in the air in a wild gesture as the mass of the pair suddenly tipped over the edge of the cliffs. The giggling echoed throughout Aobaโ€™s head as Panzerchic excitedly fell down the cliffside, wings half committed to their tuck as they gained momentum with the fall. Perhaps it would be another rider to give critique once all was said and done as Pan was oblivious to Aobaโ€™s white knuckled grip on a spike as she finally stretched her wings out far before the length of the cliff had even come halfway. They didnโ€™t need to be making a grand show as much as they needed to get on track to their destination.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€Membranes caught the air and Pan streamlined her body to finally take a little more control of her flight. She directed herself back up to the balcony where she could circle until the rest were up. Pan had thought her take-off was a little messy but it wasnโ€™t until she saw the hurtling of liquids over her shoulder that she realised just how bad it was.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€ Aoba hadnโ€™t eaten much that day but all the water heโ€™d drank to stay hydrated made an unwelcome visit when they finally came to be circling over the landing balcony. He thought he saw some berries in the vomit as he groaned and straightened on Panzerchic. She could most certainly hover in place but he ordered her to keep orbiting as it was less turbulent. He hoped the others below werenโ€™t in the line of fire for his stomachโ€™s contents. He didnโ€™t even speak his mind to Pan, his face pale as he tried to gain control of his nausea. Rune couldnโ€™t start this trip fast enough, he thought impatiently. Below in the city he cast magic to enhance his sight of the villagers pouring out of their homes and out from under the awnings of their market stalls to point at the blue creature in the sky. They had seen the team fly in and had all likely been waiting for the spectacle that would come of them all departing. Letting the spell dissipate, Aoba looked beyond them in the far distance where black mountain peaks lifted over an eternal fog. Stensia. From Thraben he could see the split of Kruin Pass, one of two passes in the precipitous peaks of Geier Reach and he again thought to Elwin.
      โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€โ€Ž โ€Žโ€โ€Pan, who was desperate to be back in her riderโ€™s good graces, spoke tentatively, Markov Manor is there, no? Aerhaus gave a murmur of confirmation under his breath, letting his gaze steady on the mountains and in turn smooth the remaining waters in his guts. Presh was at the second opening, Getander Pass, far South in the continent. He assumed they would fly on the side of human civilisation and he recalled that Kessig was home to Ulvenwald forest where trees moved in the night and those on the floors saw no sun from the dense foliage. No wonder the Church thought dragons fitting for this, a venture like this would be nigh impossible without great loss on foot. By sky they could beeline straight for the village nestled a few days by horse from Getander Pass. Runeโ€™s home and the unfortunate place of interest for Churches, artifacts, vampires, likely more unforeseen obstacles - Aoba sighed - and now dragons.

      โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€โ”€
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Re: Chaotic? Overthinking? Rune? It's more likely than you t

Postby lynettetan1 » Fri Jan 19, 2024 1:47 am

Rune Tzorfeld
Location: Church
Feeling: Suspicious, worried, slightly exasperated
Tagged: Cantivore, Io, Calypso, Pan
Mentioned: Aoba, Elwin

The entire time, Rune had felt curious gazes on her from dragon and people alike, but refused to respond, only dipping her head respectfully in greeting when Cantivore or the other dragons greeted her. As long as no one had talked to her directly, she had no real obligation to acknowledge them, and she would prefer not to. They were going on a mission anyway, there would be more than enough time to find out more about the others.

As the group traded insults, Rune simply ignored them, though something Io said to Aoba had her thinking. Not of this nation? She'd always thought he'd felt a little off, but this felt like she was stepping somewhere private, and it wasn't like he had been the one who wanted to tell her this, so it felt a little invasive. As such, she didn't react, simply staring blankly at the map and pretending not to hear what others didn't want her to know as Elwin joined in on the insults thinly veiled as banter. It seemed like many in this group were fluent in sass, and she was already used to the other two, so Io would probably fit right in, despite the animosity. Given the two's reactions, Rune dimly wondered if she was supposed to know Io as well. Probably not. She'd been in his presence for all of a few minutes, but from how he was behaving so far, if she knew him, he would probably have informed her of it when he came in.

What was important was her little village, tucked in the middle of nowhere but somehow right where everyone seemed to want to conduct their business. As Aoba nodded, Rune ran her eyes over the geography of the place set out before her, her mind already wandering through the peaks. How often had she thought of the village, of just taking flight and heading toward the forest she'd grown up in, the families she'd assumed she'd seamlessly fit into when she came of age? But now, she ran over the landscape with a more experienced eye, mapping out areas that would work to their advantage, positions that would be far enough away from the village where no one would get hurt...

Io's gaze was ignored just as the others' was, but the moment he started talking to her, Rune went still under her cloak, her fingers all but imprinting the map she was studying into the table with the force at which she pressed down. She'd not used her aura to hide her presence the way she normally did out of respect for the riders and their capabilities, and she wasn't sure if it would have worked against the amount of power he had in that staff, but Rune couldn't help but wish that she'd used it after all. Holding back, she narrowly stopped herself from carving indents in the map, unsure if it would be better to acknowledge him and betray how rigid she'd become, or to hide her secrets in silence and let him arrive at his own answers.

Of course, everyone would know eventually, Rune wasn't kidding herself, but to say that she preferred to be known as a person first was an understatement.

In a room full of talented individuals and their dragons, Rune was more aware than anyone that she didn't quite belong, and that her own training could only work to handle what she had been given more than improve her capabilities like many of the dragon rider pairs around her. Her power was nothing to scoff at, to be sure, but to be first identified to a room with strangers as a half-beast was not exactly what she considered a good impression-though, if she was to take point, she'd have to reveal herself regardless.

Add to that the fact that she didn't really like being the recipient of any stranger's attention, and this was kind of a stressful situation to be in.

Luckily, he didn't seem to require any response from her, affirming himself as he continued. Raising her eyebrows, Rune slowly breathed out, remembering to control herself. She'd come a long way from where she used to be, and she no longer burst in and out of her forms unless she wanted to, but the tools she'd picked up then were useful for regulating her own emotional state and keeping herself aware instead of just slipping away under pressure like she used to.

At his question, however, Rune frowned. Her head jerked to the side, shaded eyes examining Io more clearly, trying to determine his motives. In a room full of dragons who would carry his weight with ease, why would he ask her? Not that she would experience any real difficulty with it, but Rune knew that it certainly did at least look that way. Was it really pure curiosity? He had mentioned that this request was one that could be refused, but Caliph had also essentially stated that Io was technically the leader of this mission. Was this a test of subservience, to see how well his orders and judgement would be followed as a whole?

Or... was it because she was the only pairless unit in this team? Having the skillset she possessed, Rune often wondered if she was classified in Church records as human or dragon. Certainly she was originally human, but if one looked at her capabilities and usefulness, the argument for the latter was also quite reasonable. Was he possibly supposed to pair up with her? Rune didn't like the idea of having a stranger suddenly assigned to be by her, and the idea of said stranger riding on her back where she couldn't quite see them... Whilst her dragon form wasn't vulnerable in any sort of way, there was something about the idea of Io perched between her shoulders that she didn't quite trust, and whilst she could technically fly the whole way with him at the side of her vision, it would certainly put a crick in her neck when she should be focused on bigger issues.

There was also the fact that her dragon form was huge. Whilst the others were sizable, towering over their companions, dragons grew in size the older they were, and the dragons in the mausoleum were all a couple of years old. The dragon that had given Rune her powers had counted her age in the thousands. Whilst she had the strength and the speed to keep up with the others, it was way too eye catching to be a frequent form she utilized. The moment she'd learned any sort of control over her abilities, she'd taken the form as little as possible, and then when she got more skilled, not at all if she could help it. There were still myths flying around of the large green dragon, but it'd been at least a few years since her last appearance, and that was enough for people to believe that the gargantuan size was exaggeration. Turning here, right in the middle of town, would make all her past efforts for naught.

Luckily, it didn't seem like she had to answer right away. Whether she meant to or not, Calypso came at the right time, taking his attention so Rune could catch a minute to breathe. With a clearer head, Rune let herself acknowledge that she was probably overthinking the situation, especially when he spoke of his role. It was not unusual for the Church to want to keep an eye on them, especially the first time they were pushing all of the dragon riders together. This was supposed to be their first mission together, after all, and might be a good sensing for how well they would all work together in the future.

As she considered this carefully, Rune looked over at Calypso for a moment, catching the other's eye, and for a moment, she felt herself sinking into the familiar warmth and presence before her, and just like that she was a gangly teenager again, not quite knowing what to do. But then, she blinked, and Rune caught herself quickly, giving the other a shy, grateful smile, wondering how Calypso thought about the situation. She didn't seem like she was taking it like an usurping of her leadership, looking calm and confident the way she usually did with Valkor at her side. Rune wondered how good she must have gotten over the years. Did she wonder the same? As she was thinking, Rune subconsciously stood a little straighter.

Then, Aoba was walking away with something akin to determination in his eyes, and Rune followed his gaze to a red-headed man, wondering how the two knew each other. Then again, perhaps the dragon riders all knew about each other in some way or form. Aoba surely did, with the amount of times he'd chastised her about knowing her peers. All the same, it seemed like Aoba and him were definitely connected, Aoba pulling the other one away. So far, the redhead had just seemed a little stand-offish, but Rune supposed that everyone would feel a little awkward when meeting new people. Gods knew she was, after all.

If she really thought about it, she didn't really mind giving the other a lift if she didn't have to carry him on her back, though looking at the crew, Rune did feel a portent of foreboding. Whilst she knew some of them, she didn't know others, and all of them were clearly powerful individuals with clearly varied opinions, and whilst she would accept that they might all be good fighters, whether they were good protectors was another thing entirely. It would be one thing taking them to a battlefield, but it was quite another to take them to her doorstep. For a moment, Rune's thoughts drifted to Elwin, wondering if the other knew the significance of Presh to her. He knew well enough that she came from Stensia, but Rune couldn't quite remember if she'd specifically told him her town. But given his character, and her own, if it came down to it, would that knowledge make a difference? As she thought, however, Rune didn't let her gaze stray to the vampire, simply looking toward Io as if deep in thought. They both shared a dislike for attention, and Rune wasn't about to start drawing some when he clearly wished to be done with all of this as much as she did.

For a second, Rune wondered if she could go and scout out the area first, and possibly solve the problem before the others would have to land, or if that would be seen as treasonous to the church.

But that was nothing but an idle daydream. Rune knew more than anyone that she wasn't about to go and communicate with church forces, nor the rest of the entire team. Her skillsets weren't suited for that kind of initiative or leadership, and she'd never bothered improving them. Not to mention, the overlords had only given them two days, and if she failed, that would put them on an even bigger time crunch.

As such, it seemed like the best course of action was to bundle up the current crew and take them all to Presh. Looking at it that way, if she didn't take Io, they might spend a little longer deliberating the logistics, and Rune wanted to understand the situation at back home as soon as she could.

A side glance at Elwin was enough to reaffirm her opinion that the vampire was as done with the conversation as she was, even if for different reasons, and a cursory glance at the others showed that they were all ready to go, which was good. It wasn't that long a flight anyway.

Actually...

An idea coming into her head, Rune cracked the smallest of smiles, glad to have solved that conundrum, before she pressed her lips back down.

Biding her time, Rune waited till a lull in conversation between the two before she spoke. "I don't mind." She answered simply, not bothering to contextualize her answer further. It wasn't like he would forget what he asked of her so easily-from his words and mannerisms, he didn't seem like the forgetful type.

Before she could say any more, Aoba called to Pan, and Rune paused, staring as her two brilliantly blue friends made their way down the corridor, Pan sleek and agile like a jungle cat after she extricated herself from the dragons around her. They certainly looked a picture, striding out into the light, the sun's rays playing upon their colours. But then Pan dipped ever so slightly, and Aoba was shifting up, and a thought errantly entered Rune's mind. Had Aoba been... practicing?

Right as she wondered it, Rune saw Aoba shut his eyes and hid a wince. That answered that.

Pan leapt into the air in a flurry of wings and limbs, and Rune looked back at Io, not feeling the need to watch any longer. She knew what was coming. Although she'd scolded Aoba about it as many times as he'd told her to be more aware, the blue-haired rider was still a friend of hers, and she had no wish to watch-or let Io see-him embarrass himself, especially with his prideful nature. It was time to go. Threading an arm behind Io's back to grip his further side solidly, Rune bent down, using her other arm to lift Io at his knees in a gentle swooping motion, before shifting his weight slightly to readjust her center of gravity. Visually Rune knew it looked a little implausible, with her height and stature, but her size often made for a good sneak attack with how enemies often underestimated her, with the amount of strength and speed she had in her body. As it was, Rune barely felt the weight, as if she was carrying him in her dragon form.

As she did so, Rune caught Calypso's eye again, and for a moment, she paused, wondering if she should say something to the other, and if so, what would be good. It had been so long, after all, and Rune had not even sent a letter, though she was sure that Calypso would never stray far from the Church for too long. But she had been unable to delude herself far enough into assuming that any communication she sent apart from going in person would not be intercepted and read, and so, there had only been the emptying jaw of silence, a chasm that she did not quite know how to cross.

But then, Io shifted, and Rune looked down into the disciple's features before looking at Calypso again, now with the slightest hint of a frown with the reminder of the literal third person she carried between them. Perhaps niceties would have to wait. And yet, she did not wish to leave without a word. Thinking for a moment longer, Rune dipped her head slightly, a polite little nod of greeting. "It's good to see you."

Wondering if she had anything she needed to tell the other given it was his first time flying, Rune thought for a second, before just going with the obvious. She was going to be doing most of the work anyway. "Hold on to me. And your things." Io was one thing and she had enough responsibility not to let go of him, but if he dropped any of his possessions he was going to have to live without them. She didn't want any further delays.

Now having Io secure in a bridal carry, Rune walked after Pan and Aoba, hunching forward slightly as large, scaled wings flared from the holes she'd cut out from the back, fanning out wide in a stretch as she started walking toward the opening where they could all take flight. And whilst she wasn't quite quick enough to block the spectacle before them, nor the unintended projectiles that she angled her wings away from, they caught the light as she stretched, the very tips of her wings almost scraping the roof as she passed, allowing Aoba a few extra seconds of privacy to recover. A few lazy half-beats served as a warmup as she walked, and Rune gently breathed out around her mana, letting the entirety of it coat around her and Io like a bubble the way she was used to. Whilst she could concentrate the aura of a dragon around her body, something that often struck fear into most that looked at her, though they didn't quite know why, Rune had learned how to wrap it around her instead, making her almost seem to fade from notice. Experienced magic users like the riders and the dragons could see her easily enough, given she wasn't trying especially hard, but the townspeople would find their gazes sliding over her as just one of the many amongst the extraordinary. Certainly, the Church had ordered their spectacle and would have it, but they could have it just fine without her.

As she did so, Rune casually stepped off the edge of the opening, dropping off the artificial cliff.

Her wings flared instinctually, and she let out a low hum, enjoying the feeling of air rushing past her wings before they flexed, turning expertly to work with the currents. A beat of her wings, and the duo surged up, appearing once more in the air above the open courtyard, facing Thraben before them. Her wings hovered at her sides, tilted just so to glide in the air with the least effort. Turning her head to the side, she gave Pan a smile, sharing the other's enjoyment-it would be hard pressed for someone to find a dragon that did not delight at taking to the air. It has been a while since we've shared the sky, Pan. Looking at Aoba and finding him not exactly in the state to have a conversation, Rune's smile turned slightly wry, before it softened.

And yet, not even the companionship could take her mind off her village, the worry in her heart now a constant, niggling thing at the back of her throat.

With a soft huff, Rune turned, looking around at the others over the arc of her wing. "Let's go." To the others that didn't know her, her actions were already relatively patient and obliging, but those who knew her would be able to sense the haste. Rune wasn't often one who took matters into her own hands, and was often comfortable with whatever pace was set out by the others.

She waited for a short while, letting the other dragon riders mount up as she faced home like a well trained messenger bird. She took the moment to take a breath, closing her eyes for a second. How often had she looked in this direction wordlessly, night after night? Perhaps because of that habit, she was always able to know where Presh was, no matter how far she'd travelled-always facing in that direction, but never actually moving towards it, afraid of what she'd find.

A vision of her village charred and flattened came unbidden to her mind, and Rune's fingers tightened unconsciously round Io's body. It was a common fear, that often made her hesitate when she thought of going home, her own green bulk and sharp claws shredding the village to pieces, her friends and family's cries falling on ears that could no longer hear. Rune gritted her teeth. But it was different this time, the scales a different colour, the roar a different pitch. Shaking her head a little, Rune loosened her grip, looking at Io and nodding slightly apologetically.

Image nagging at her mind, Rune could wait no longer. Giving the others a cursory glance and finding them ready-for the most part-, she started moving, the sound of multiple wingbeats filling the air as she set a steady, quick course toward Presh.

~~

Deep within the fog that seemed to eternally permeate Stensia, Rune flew steadily towards Presh, never stopping for a second of doubt. She'd flown to Stensia before, certainly, on varied missions here and there, but whether by accident or design, the Church had never sent her as far South as Kessig. Perhaps she'd been deemed a flight risk, or perhaps even a threat.

Even as high up as they were, the mountains seemed expansive, the forest unbroken. The vantage point was new and unusual, and Rune wondered if she should consult a map of some kind, even if just for confirmation. And yet, staring at the mountains and seeing the nostalgic dip of Getander Pass, Rune knew that wasn't necessary. Even without geography, there was something in her heart that always seemed to tug her back toward home. Though she'd never seen it from the skies, there was a familiarity to the angle of the mountains, to the conformation of the trees, and though they couldn't see the village from their vantage point, Rune knew she'd walked every inch of that little patch of land countless times over.

There were too many of them-and they were too large- to land in the village, so Rune simply picked the largest swathe of unbroken land nearest to the village to land, angling her wings to begin her descent. There was no use for stealth, after all-the group of dragons would have been seen miles away, even with the forest coverage.

Going slow enough that the humans wouldn't get hurt by the altitude drop, Rune hovered above the ground, flapping her wings a few times before the tips of her toes pressed against the ground, her wings shrinking into her back. Already people were coming towards them, in the uniforms of the Church, and Rune bent slightly to place Io down on his feet in front of her so she wouldn't have to talk to them directly. Though she wanted to know what happened, she didn't want to be the one speaking to them.

However, when she cast her gaze further out, she spotted more than a few ashen faces, eyes wide with fear and apprehension, watching the group from a safe distance. Looking at those faces, Rune watched soundlessly, unsure what to say or do. It was unlike her memories. They were all familiar, people that you could have sworn you had seen before, had existed with all your life, and yet they were different somehow-some aged, some with harder lights in their eyes, sturdier frames. Had 8 years truly been so long?

As she stared, a smaller child came closer, taking advantage of the Church militia's distraction to wheedle themselves closer, the same kind of unsure recognition in her eyes, and as she did, Rune had a flash of memory-a toddler that couldn't have been more than 2, stretching their tiny fingers towards her.

Rune's lips opened, mouthing a name she'd only whispered to herself in the dead of night as a soft cradle of sound to soothe the balm of loneliness felt in the sterile Church walls, but the girl was faster. Taking the Church forces by surprise, she'd run foward, and Rune was stepping round Io, crouching to perfectly catch the child that launched herself into her arms. "Rune!" Her arms clutched at Rune's shoulders, and there were whispers of gasps as Rune's hood fell back, but for once, there were more important things at hand.

"Ena." Rune said softly, marveling at the way the sound entered the air. As Ena burst out crying, the townspeople surged forward now, a swell of familiar faces and voices approaching, her name being spoken over and over amongst the questions and commotion. Rune could faintly hear the going-ons of the militia probably trying to brief her on something she should have been listening to, but instead, she shifted Ena unto an arm, genially submitting herself to a flurry of hands reaching for her, touching her face and arms and affirming her existence amongst them. "Yes, it's me." She confirmed softly, feeling the warmth in the very depths of her and not caring who saw. "I'm home."
Last edited by lynettetan1 on Wed Jan 24, 2024 3:21 am, edited 2 times in total.
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ใ€Œ โ› ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ๐˜ฆ'๐˜ด ๐˜ฃ๐˜ญ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฐ๐˜ฅ ๐˜ช๐˜ฏ ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ๐˜ฆ ๐˜ธ๐˜ข๐˜ต๐˜ฆ๐˜ณ โœ ใ€๐Ÿข๐Ÿข2

Postby ไ xote » Fri Jan 19, 2024 3:54 pm

    Ha. Elwinโ€™s words have a bite, but not in a way that matters. Perhaps some time ago the insult would have hurtโ€“there had, in fact, been a time when Io was no more than a mouse in a trap, tail under the soft paws of a beast that saw him as nothing but entertainment. He hasnโ€™t forgotten the crushing oppression of when heโ€™d been hardly a lamb, tigerโ€™s eyes and the bitter sting of metal coiled around his wrists, his ankles, his neckโ€ฆ Even the thought makes something in him feel awfully cold, and the smile painted on his lips is more absent than heโ€™d meant it to be. Itโ€™s only a heartbeat, however, and his tapered fingers tap gently against the grain of the wood in his palm as he leans his hip into his opposite hand.

    โ€œI would ask what thatโ€™s supposed to mean, my friend,โ€ a word that feels alien and wrong on his tongue, โ€œbut I really did not expect anything better from you.โ€ Insist Iโ€™m a slave to the church if you must, but at least Iโ€™m no vagrant.

    โ€œRelax,โ€ he continues with disinterest before things veer too far from the objective. โ€œIt isnโ€™t as if I was bathed in holy water before being sent here. I hardly pose a threat to whatever brooding reputation youโ€™re trying to uphold.โ€

    And really, he means it.

    Ioโ€™s attention wanders from the Markov just like thatโ€“lavender eyes follow Aoba as he tugs the redhead away, and the disciple catches a flash of blue. The thought is barely brushed against, but it comes unbidden nonetheless: blue is really an awful color on the Artificer. Perhaps later, heโ€™ll say as much; there are more important things to consider just this moment.

    Almost as if she heard him, Rune issues a response, a cool and even โ€œI donโ€™t mind.โ€ Itโ€™s the best thing the disciple has heard all day, and his head snaps over as his eyes widen and his smile stretches toward his eyes in unadulterated delight.

    And then in an instant, the world dips around him. Rune's hand, still human, feels small against his slim waistโ€“almost delicate, but it is still as if he's been snatched up in the massive claw of a towering beast, caged in. His heart skips a beat, a bone-shattering chill closing in around it and forcing his breathโ€“no, punching it from his lungs and up through his throat. Itโ€™s only a second, but a second is all it takes for a cold, slick sweat to bead between his shoulder blades. The moisture dries from his mouth like a wild animal retreating, leaving his tongue dry and heavy; it makes him wonderโ€“in a dull way, as if his head was full of cottonโ€“if she can feel the way his heart begins to race, pumping viciously to circulate blood and adrenaline through his system with enough force to ache. Despite himself, a tremble runs along his spine, through his fingertips, and it isnโ€™t until his eyes begin to burn that heโ€™s noticed he'd been staring up at her, pupils nearly pinpricks and teeth clenched. He swallows, focusing on the throbbing of his jaw as he flutters long, pale lashes to clear tears from his eyes.

    He smiles, but he knows immediately that it is wrong, too tense, almost quivering, lopsided. His knuckles are bloodless from his grip on the staff in his hands.

    "O-of course." He manages. It leaves him in a rasp, tight and too hesitant. He doesnโ€™t hear her, not really, but he vaguely understands what she means to communicate: donโ€™t drop anything. We are not going back for it. Not that he'd have let go of the curved, almost unassuming thing in his hands without the warningโ€“not after the bile in his stomach has begun to churn so violently.

    Itโ€™s been a long time since heโ€™s felt something like this. He curses himself inwardly, angry that heโ€™d let down his guard enough to be snatched up, horrified that at this point he canโ€™t even manage to summon up a barrier to separate himself from her grasp. Heโ€™s frozen from the emotion that wells up in every cell.

    (Because it's fear. True, real, and raw.)

    It bubbles up his throat like it's acid, burning the tender flesh of his esophagus and spreading thin tendrils deep into his brain. It permeates each synapse, punctuating each firing with a frenetic crackle, some long buried instinct telling him that in this moment, he is vulnerable. He is prey. In nearly an instant, she could shred every fiber of his flesh, until blood bubbled from his lips and pooled from between the sinew holding his ribs together, raining down on Presh in a macabre display. But more than that (oh, so much more) the terror that grips him reminds him that they could devour him, separate his innards from where they are tucked inside of him, and open him to the languid warmth of the summer air.

    He doesnโ€™t even realize that theyโ€™ve taken off until he hears theโ€ฆ human? Dragon? Until he hears Rune murmur a โ€œletโ€™s go,โ€ and he feels the words through the strange thrumming of blood in his ears. The winds toss his curls up around his face, snowy and thick like wool as they drop in his face and obscure his vision. He purses his lips, and pushes them from his mouth with a less-than-graceful puff of air, before his free hand stretches up to unceremoniously push them back from his forehead.

    The first thing he notices is Rune.

    He stares up at her chin, allows his gaze to trail up their chin and take in everything from their tufts of green hair to eyes as dark as night without stars. It feels like staring into inkwells, as if theyโ€™ll swallow anything they meet. Heโ€™s almost weightless in her arms, carried like a crippled bird, and the powerful beat of her wings reminds him distantly of thundering hooves, a herd of horses in a crashing, dignified gallop through a gentle river.

    He tips his head, tense as he gazes out in front of them, then downโ€“

    And sees the rolling green below in a way heโ€™s never been able to before. The tangled coil of something painful unravels, a ball of yarn pulled in just the right way, and his lips part in a grin that he cannot help. The rush of air was cold, but the sun feels closer and warmer than on a lazy morning spent lying in the grass watching clouds. His eyes water, breath catching in his throat, but he canโ€™t bear to tear himself away from the view that opens up in all directions. In fact, he laughs, the sound bubbling up from deep in his chest and slipping from him without reservation. He turns his head toward them again just as those fingers tighten their grip, but none of him can remember to be frightened of it.

    โ€œI donโ€™t know what I expected,โ€ He says, at a loss. โ€œBut whatever it was, I donโ€™t imagine it matches the real thing! Ahโ€“ I bet when the sun sets, the view is incredible from up here! Do you ever fly just to watch them, Rune?โ€

    And truly, he wants to know. Thereโ€™s light in his violet eyes, turned to crescents and nearly hooded behind pale lashes, fingers curled in his bangs as he forgets about whatever aloof expression heโ€™d tried to meet them with just moments before.

    How strange.

    How beautiful.

    Part of the disciple truly wishes that they'd never have to dip beneath the cloudline again, his heart thrumming not from terror but from the thin, cold air. Blasphemous as it is, he clings to the artifact in his palm and laughs breathlessly, wondering what it would be like to be more like its original owner. If he could taste such a freedom of his own accord... he doesn't dare let the thought pass, but he already knows in his heart that he, too, would be tempted to rise above the clouds and disappear without a trace.


    ยฐ*ห–โœงห–*ยฐ


    Io's face is flushed by the time Rune descends, cheeks reddened, nose and ears nipped from the chill of the air. There's a sense of loss in him as he notices the altitude drop around them, and his face falls just a bit, the light leaving his eyes as his lips straighten out. He's sure that his companion noticed the church forces before he did, and her use of him as an offering (or shield) between herself and his brothers and sisters does not go unnoticed. He doesn't blame her, and is thankful at the delicate way she places him on his feet--still, he cannot help a breathy laugh to himself as he straightens his billowing white robe, and tucks his tousled curls back behind the lilies at either temple. Diantha, he's sure that they're called, and the mana that flows through his meridians keeps their tender layers fragrant and fully bloomed. He lifts his tapered fingers to untangle the ribbons of the staff he holds, but not even a greeting is able to leave his lips before someone--a small child--recognizes Rune and rushes forward with abandon.

    He doesn't even think to intervene, eyes closing against the calls of recognition that reverberate around them.

    Ah.

    This really is home to her. Not just an area, or a place, or a sprawling land she recognizes. It's home, where people recognize her face, where they know her name, where they've missed her in the time she's been away, were they've wondered if a time would come like this and she would return, and they could hold her and catch up with her and share a space with her again.

    It stings, twisting in his gut as if he's been stabbed by an ice pick, deep into his belly. No nausea, no despair, but a sharp lance of regret none the less. The smile on his lips remains, but pity wells deep inside and travels up his throat until his eyes sting with it. He knows that nothing can be done, regardless of whether he likes or dislikes the method. He only hopes, fervently, that Rune is of the same mind as he:

    Nothing matters more than purging the scourge of madness on this plane.

    Nothing.

    For now, he says nothing, watching his newest acquaintance without a word and crossing his arms over his chest. He tucks the staff into the crook of one elbow, and his lilac gaze slides pointedly to Calypso, attempting to gauge her emotions at the display.
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Re: ใ€Œ before the storm ใ€

Postby Blumenkranz » Thu Jan 25, 2024 5:43 pm

    Calypso Argentum // Disciple of Heliud // Dragon: Valkor // Feeling: Focused, suspicious // Tags: Everyone

    Calypso remained silent as she gauged how the team interacted with each other. She was familiar with Io and his purpose as a member of the church. As was explained, he was to observe and guide them in the upcoming mission, a fact that Calypso wished she had known beforehand. She was a devoted member of the church herself, and had experience leading missions. Was this mission not something they could trust her to handle on her own?

    She didnโ€™t like not knowing all the details. It wasnโ€™t an unusual stunt for the church to pull considering that this was not the first occasion in which something unexpected had been thrust onto her, but it threw her thoughts into a disarray when she was one for order and routine. She wasnโ€™t wholly against Io joining them, considering his connection to the church, but now there was the matter of transporting him to Presh as well as an additional person for her to keep an eye on, to keep safe.

    But it was not their new teammate that made her the most anxious, rather it was Elwin. The insults directed at Io only furthered her unease. In a way she could understand the churchโ€™s desire to work with a vampire, considering the influence they held over Stensia, but the fact that they fed on the blood of the humans she was sworn to protect kept her discomfort from easing. But if this was what the church wanted, then she would be civil. As civil as she could be towards a vampire, at least.

    As Calypso observed, her eye caught Runeโ€™s, and saw the familiarity in them. Calypso had thought of her often in the time they had been apart. Wondering how she was, worrying for her, only catching snippets from others of what she was up to but not being able to see her. She could still clearly remember their first meeting: Rune unsure, wary, forced away from her home and into a situation that she had no say or control over. It had been difficult for her then, and Calypso wondered what she thought of it all now.

    Aobaโ€™s voice pulled her attention away as the blue-haired man dragged the artificer away to some corner of the room where they could not be overheard. She did not know much of Arcturus, other than his name and talents, but she figured it safe to assume that he had some sort of connection with Aoba. She couldnโ€™t deny that she was a bit curious about what sort of conversation they were having, but in the end she knew it was none of her business.

    While Calypso busied herself with her observations, Valkor was preoccupied with a certain dragon.

    Valkor blinked at Panโ€™s touch, first the brush of her tail against his and then the unceremonious shove of her body underneath his. He didnโ€™t mind invasion of space as she took shelter under him, she was young after all and so didnโ€™t have a full understanding of proper manners yet. Instead he focused on the fright that radiated off her in waves and the cause of itโ€”the two-headed beast that was Tartarus.

    His neck arched and lip curled to reveal the sharp teeth beneath as his head swiveled towards the massive dragon. But it was only posturing, a warning with no true bite intended, unless Tartarus gave him ample reason to. It was her rider more than the beast herself that he disliked.

    It was in his nature as a moonveil, a hunter of the creatures of the night, whether it be vampires or werewolves or creatures twisted by Emrakulโ€™s influence. He was a good omen, a protector of the people of Innistrad. In the presence of Elwin he could feel the thrill of the hunt sing through his veins. Oh how he longed to feel the snap of bone between his teeth and the taste of blood on his tongue. But he would leave it be this time, as it was what Calypso wanted.

    His loyalty to her was not out of fear of his rider, but respect. Calypso treated him well, tending to his every need and lavishing him with praise and affection. It was her benevolence that influenced him into the moonveil that he was, with the desire to purge evil in all forms. He would do anything for her, even if he didnโ€™t always understand why she or the church wanted what they did. Her mistrust in Elwin fed into his desire to snatch up the vampire with his jaws to ease her mind and be done with it all, but for now he would be good.

    It was when Pan began to do something other than her submissive cowering that he dragged his eyes away from Tartarus and to the young dragon beneath him. Curiosity set into his features, a questioning grumble rising in his throat. Pan shifted so that she lay on her back, the quills running alongside her body clicking softly as they rose and fell in waves. It took him a moment to understand what she was attempting, and then it hit him.

    She was making an attempt to impress him. If he had been younger or she older, perhaps he would have been interested in the display, but as it was all it brought was a sense of mild amusement. He had been a whelp once. He knew how it was to be governed more by oneโ€™s natural instincts than rationality. He did not encourage her actions but did not react harshly either. A stern word or even a bite could have gotten the message across, but he was too gentle to resort to such behaviors towards an allyโ€”unless he felt it necessary. So instead he showed a complete disinterest, aware of Panโ€™s display beneath him but not rewarding her with attention for it. His eyes went to follow what the dragon riders were doing, noticing Calypso side-eying the pair with a small frown.

    Then it was time to go, as announced by Aoba. Pan crawled out from beneath him to join her rider as the roof above them gave way to open sky. Valkor went to stand beside his own rider, who rested a hand against his foreleg.

    Calypso had noticed Panโ€™s lack of gear but it was still a bit of a shock to see Aoba climb up onto her back and fly out without a saddle to help keep his seat. He didnโ€™t appear to be the most stable rider, his body tense as he clung to one of Panโ€™s spikes. Perhaps she could offer him some tips later.

    It was Rune who went next, taking it upon herself to carry Io bridal-style in her arms. Io didnโ€™t seem to have expected or wanted it, his body stiffening and what almost looked to be fear glimmering in his eyes. It certainly wasnโ€™t the way that Calypso would have expected Rune to carry him, but at least the matter was settled.

    Calypsoโ€™s eyes met Runeโ€™s again. She felt the need to say something, but her breath hitched in her throat. It had been so long since they had last seen each other and she found herself at a loss for words. What could she say, especially with Io between them and their departure imminent?

    But then Rune broke the ice, a small nicetie. Calypsoโ€™s rigidly neutral expression that she had kept up for the duration of the meeting melted ever so slightly, the corners of her lips tugging up in a small smile as a faint, familiar warmth bloomed in her chest. โ€œAnd you as well. Iโ€™m glad to see that you are well.โ€

    Valkor crouched as low as he could to the ground, and Calypso used the straps of his gear to climb onto his back. She settled comfortably into the saddle but found her gaze once more wandering to Rune. Massive wings sprouted from her back and fanned out to both sides of her. There was a surety in her movements that made it look easy as she dipped off the edge and took flight with Io in tow. It was such a stark contrast to when Calypso knew her, when Rune fumbled with and fought to gain control over her new draconic limbs. Pride for Rune filled Calypso in seeing how far she had come since then.

    But she couldnโ€™t marvel forever. It was time to go.

    Valkorโ€™s wings unfurled in his steady walk to the end of the platform, the colorful membranes catching in the light. He bunched his muscles in his hindquarters as his wings extended to their full length. He launched himself off the edge, wings slamming down in a powerful thrust to propel him into the air. Calypso maintained a steady seat, the pair having flown together so many times that their movements were almost as one. Valkor glided through the air with grace and easy fluidity, not unlike a cat with wings.

    Once all were prepared, they followed Runeโ€™s lead to Presh.

    ---

    Calypso had wanted to visit Presh ever since Rune had told her about her home village. A small settlement, the sort where everyone knew everyone, and all worked together to provide for each other. A quiet, comfortable life. Calypso had wanted to visit with Rune during their time together, but that trip never happened. Now they would be visiting the village together, but in a way that Calypso had not imagined all those years ago.

    Her lavender eyes curiously swept the village buildings and the surrounding woodlands as they came upon them, but this was no time for sight-seeing, she knew that. They had an objective to fulfill.

    Valkorโ€™s wings angle downward as they descend. The church centuria, led by two centurions, made their approach, their uniforms indicating a clear separation between them and the villagers who stood back with apprehension. Once Valkor touched the ground, Calypso swiftly dismounted and made her way to them.

    A face familiar to Calypso greeted her. Hastatus Prior Craven, the man who directed the operations of the centuria behind him. His hair was as dark as a night without stars and his expression mirrored her own, serious and calculating. She could recall other church members gossiping about his good looks in the past, but it was not his appearance that ever had her attention. Rather it was his commanding force that she carefully observed, making notes of the way he led others. Though she did not distrust him, a cautiousness gripped her that often came when speaking to anyone of a rank of importance. A need she felt to look and act her absolute best.

    โ€œWe have come to retrieve the artifact.โ€ Her military training shone through as she addressed Craven, her back straight and shoulders set, her eyes carefully analyzing. โ€œWhat is the current status of the situation?โ€

    Her attention briefly lapsed as a child rushed past to greet Rune, soon followed by a surge of other villagers who crowd around her. They reach out to touch her, calling her name, confirming that she is not only okay but truly there. Thereโ€™s a softness in Rune as she addressed them all, and it stirred mixed emotions in Calypsoโ€™s gut.

    Calypso wished that they could have been reunited sooner. Rune had been unfairly torn away from them without knowing if she would be able to return. How much had the villagers even been told about her disappearance? Did they accept that she would possibly never return to them, or did they spend all the years waiting and wondering?

    But Rune was here now. If the situation had been different, Calypso perhaps would have urged Rune to focus more on the mission details being relayed to them, but she didnโ€™t have the heart to. After all that had been taken from her, Rune deserved to have this moment with her people.

    It wasnโ€™t only the villagers that came forward, but some fellow church members as well. She could feel their eyes on her, blatant stares of awe. She was used to the looks, having experienced them often at the church and missions outside of it. It used to get under her skin when she was younger and thought herself undeserving of the attention, but now she knew it came with her status and had learned to tolerate it.

    It was Valkor they flocked to with bright, eager smiles. The moonveilโ€™s scales shimmered as he craned his head to greet them with a gentle expression. Like his rider, he too had become used to the attention that drew to him like a magnet wherever he went. He recognized some of the soldiers, having seen them on the battlefield before, and even allowed a few curious ones to touch his scales.

    The soldiers spoke in hushed tones to each other. Admirations about Valkor, and the meaning of having a moonveil on their side. Confidence in their victory now that both Craven and Calypso were together on the field. But there was one comment in particular that caught Calypsoโ€™s attention.

    โ€œWith all of us and the dragon riders together, that dragon doesnโ€™t stand a chance now!โ€

    Calypsoโ€™s eyes narrowed. A dragon? What dragon?

    โ€œWhat do they mean by a dragon?โ€ she asked, her attention fully on Craven once more. She fought to maintain a steady tone but suspicion slipped in. โ€œI thought we were brought here to deal with vampires.โ€
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cantivore is just a single dad who works too hard

Postby grapejuice » Fri Jan 26, 2024 7:45 pm

ใ€Š Raini Arcturus ใ€‹
"Artie" the Artificer || โ™‚ || twenty-three || Feeling: annoyed, drained || Tags; Aoba, Cantivore, Tartarus || Mentions: everyone


    He couldn't help but feel alone despite being in a room full of people. Like a spectator, perhaps having an out of body moment as he stood there virtually motionless and silent. Hardly a glance was spared in his direction throughout the duration of the meeting, not a word spoken in his direction-- further egging on that little voice in his head begging the question: Why are we here? But he knew the answer laid in his hands and the power he held. His innate ability to transform organic and inorganic materials into whatever he desired at the drop of a hat. And while he stood there in his greasy clothes, hair in a low messy ponytail, and arms crossed in blatant defiance, his intrusive thoughts began their little whispers. Perhaps it was due to the lack of sleep, as he debated creating a detonation device-- no, that was too much. A smoke bomb, perhaps? Allow himself a moment to escape and leave them all behind like a silly magician doing a vanishing act.

    While the redhead internally debated a getaway plan, his feathered friend was keeping a close eye on the two-headed dragon before him. Cantivore rarely found himself in any situation where he felt nervous, but something about the way Tartarus examined him was almost invasive. The smoky colored beast let out a low rumbling sound, the feathers on his chest puffing out much like a bird putting on a mating display, wings flexing in rhythm. It was hard to tell if he was trying to appear bigger than he was and intimidate the other, or if he was subconsciously trying to impress her. Regardless, he was paying no mind to his human companion, choosing to ignore the tingling feeling of their brain link. If the boy wanted to pout and complain, he'd have to do it without a sympathetic ear.

    Arcturus, still stuck on the idea of escaping this uncomfortable situation, was browsing the room for bits and pieces to throw together a small [harmless] explosive... when he caught a glimpse of a certain frosty-haired individual marching right at him. Caught off guard by the sudden boldness, Artie found himself growing red with flush, his heart rate picking up instantly and blood pumping so hard he thought he'd burst. He opened his mouth to protest, only to be dragged away in an instant, and he grit his teeth. He wanted to yell, to growl, make any noise to express his annoyance. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled into a semi-covered corner, his chest tight and jaw clenched. Great going, idiot. Now what are you going to do? His eyes darted to the side, searching for that overgrown lizard that dared call itself his companion, but Cantivore wasn't opening up to their mind link. Stupid beast. Raini was suddenly jolted out of his thoughts, a hand tracing his jaw and an accusation of "theft" having been tossed in his face. The man huffed, indignant to the thought.

    "A thief? Gee, can your opinion of me be any lower?" Artie rolls his eyes, purposely avoiding the plansewalker's icy gaze. After being chastised and teased for his hair length, the man found himself clenching his fists, growing more aggravated by the second. "I didn't exactly come here to be lectured like I'm some child, so if you're finished--" Artie has to stop himself, feeling that familiar anger bubbling up in his chest, and an immediate sense of dread washing over him just as quickly. Eyes wide, he drops his head, tears beginning to well up as he glares at the tile floor below. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, exhaling slowly from his mouth. He feels shaky, dizzy. It's that familiar sensation of fatigue and delirium, the same kind that makes him a monster. And he feels sick to his stomach thinking about it.

    Fortunately, his irritation hadn't gone entirely unnoticed. Before he could even attempt to mutter the word "sorry," the blue-haired man was apologizing... to him. It was surprising, really, seeing how the two of them were fairly similar when it came to their stubborn tendencies. Arcturus was caught off guard by the gesture, and simply pursed his lips, refraining to open his mouth in fear of vomiting from the onset nausea. As Aoba strutted away, the redhead was left alone once more. His head felt foggy, face numb, and ears were ringing loudly. Exhaustion and anxiety had finally cracked through his previously apathetic demeanor, and for a moment he swore he felt himself on the verge of passing out. Thankfully his next attempt to summon Cantivore seemed to go through, as the dragon had finally excused himself from Tartarus.

    "Raini, are you alright?" The question came off more annoyed than concerned. It wasn't until the dragon saw the state of the man, that worry washed over him. The smoke gray dragon was quick to lower his head, eye level with the human as he offered his muzzle in support. Artie stumbled forward, muttering a slew of swears as he leaned against his mount, feeling weaker and closer to collapse by the second. He just wanted to rest on the cool scales of his mount and hopefully catch a few winks before they reached their destination. Unsure of what he'd missed, Cantivore decided to keep quiet and not press the man, knowing it would only end in a tantrum of sorts. He helped the human climb aboard once again, before sauntering over to the group as they prepared for takeoff.

    As the beast prepares to take to the skies, flexing his wings and rolling his shoulders, his gaze falls onto the strange girl called Rune. While he has his reservations with all the humans who've been summoned here, something about her just strikes him as... different. But he shakes it off, deciding to take up the rear of their odd little bunch, whilst keeping a close eye out for any funny business. After all, he was carrying precious cargo; a very sleep deprived artificer who was now peacefully snoring away. And so he watched as Pan leapt off the makeshift cliff, her departure probably not as smooth as she'd been hoping, and he couldn't help but chuckle at that. Ah, to be so young again. Then his eyes trailed to Rune and Io, and he found himself watching the pair with interest. Color him surprised when the green-haired girl suddenly sprouted two large wings and hoisted up the mage like he weighed nothing-- Cantivore snorted in mild shock. Her transformation was so quick, and takeoff so smooth, he couldn't help but admire the girl. Arcturus will be in for quite the surprise, having missed this.

    After Rune came Valkor, and then it was his turn to take the leap. Cantivore was all too ready as he stretched his limbs one final time, before breaking into long strides, all four wings flared. He sprung from the ledge with ease, his form dipping slightly before his instincts took over. All wings now fully engaged, begin to flap and lift the beast high into the sky, trailing the companions. His pace is purposefully slow, in order to keep Artie in place while the man gets some much needed sleep. Even if it's only for the short duration of their flight, a nap is more rest than the artificer has seen in weeks.

    By the time they're descending, Artie's eyes are blinking open once again. He's surprised to see they've already reached their first destination, and forces himself into alertness when his feathered mount hovers before landing with a gentle thud. Arcturus dismounts with a grunt, before sauntering towards the group, stopping a few feet behind as he crosses his arms and listens to the ongoing discussions. Oh good, already back to his usual self. Apathetic and grouchy, like a damned teenager, Cantivore thought with an eye roll, his large tail flicking with irritation. And not even a thanks for saving his sorry ass again. Maybe next time we're flying at mountain level, I should just let him roll off my back and plummet to his demise. Ungrateful little-- A stern glare from Artie made the dragon stop immediately, not realizing he'd been thinking to himself rather... loudly, it seemed. Whoops.
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