The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle

[beleos]

RUNNING OUT THE CLOCK

The situation is bleak.

The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.

And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.

“Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.”

Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.

And then, there is nothing.

AWAKENING

Your eyes open, gritty with the feeling of a long, deep slumber.

Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.

It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.

You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?

The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?

ABANDON HOPE (DAYS 1 & 2)

The cornerstones are still active and will take you to whichever city you wish to see.

Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.

Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.

The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.

And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…

EXPLORATION

• If your characters choose to explore previously unreachable areas, please use THIS TOPLEVEL to report when they get there in the thread! We will get back to you with what is discoverable in that location.
• The following areas are off limits for exploration: below Yima’s Manor; below the Church of Heliopolis; Alenroux; Kowloon.
• The Great Trees of both Highstorm and Springstar are in a similar state to the Tree of Life and will not respond to Communion.
• Generally speaking, items will be of poor quality. Most will look as though they’ve aged thousands of years. Others will be in half-decent shape, but sparingly so. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like the whole city has aged at the same rate, so especially diligent rummagers can find worthwhile supplies. Please consider this should be rare and don’t go overboard!

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!

• Characters will have a diluted connection to the Zenith or Meridian.
• There will be periods powers are weakened or non-functional during days 1-2 (up to player discretion).
• The sunlight results in scorching; the shadows cause claustrophobia and fear while outdoors.

THE RITUAL (DAYS 2+)

The place you started your journey to Kenos is also where it seems it will end. As soon as the first Bearer makes contact with the Iconoclast effigy, you are collectively drawn to the roots beneath the Tree - like a pang sent through your Shard. Your objective has been found. The Oracle awaits.

Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.

Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.

To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.

An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.

Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…

NOTES

• Bearers will have access to the Ritual Chamber which is a very wide, open space with the effigy situated against the far wall from the entrance. Several smaller tunnels off-shoot from the Ritual Chamber. They all run to dead ends; some are very small or narrow. This may afford you meager privacy away from the group.
• Once a Bearer steps into the Chamber, they can no longer head back out the way they came. They’ll find themselves automatically walking back into the Chamber as if of their own volition.
• For brevity’s sake we won’t list them out again here, but the complete description of effects Bearers will experience days 2+ is available in the OOC Summary.
• The effigy is impervious to damage.
• It Is Watching You.
• In a dead-end root tunnel attached to the Iconoclast’s Chamber is the Blighted statue of an Otter that may be familiar to some… Please see THIS TOPLEVEL for more information!

THE PURGE (DAYS 5+)

The sap has festered in your veins for what feels like days. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed; this place has no sunlight. The effigy watches as you remain trapped, huddled together around it, unable to leave as you find yourself sick with the affliction of the Meridian, Zenith - or both.

And then… something finally gives.

Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.

When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.

Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.

NOTES

Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!

• You can Purge your alignment through various methods: Trading, Corrupting, or using the Effigy itself.
• All characters will understand the end goal is for everyone to Harmonize; the alignment with the higher rate of Harmonized Bearers alive when time’s up wins the Oracle’s favor.

NOTES

• A reminder that the Harmonization tally will take place on Friday, the 19th and be open through Monday, the 29th. The results will be released on Wednesday, the 31st OOCly.
• Don’t forget to submit any deaths to the Death Tracker, with a gentle reminder characters will remain dead until the event conclusion!
• Reminder to fill out the SETTING POLL ASAP if you haven't already!
• Have some MUSIC if you'd like. LYRICS here!
• HAVE FUN!!

CODING

Comments

[warmare]

[There is nothing stopping her from lashing out and trying to grab him by the throat to lift him off the root-laced floor. Hayame had thought that, she had realized that...

And now she did it, suddenly lashing out towards the neck the demon bares as if to taunt her, long, calloused archer's fingers wrapping around his throat and utilizing the raw strength of a jinba to not just grab but to jerk, dragging him off the floor at arm's length to force him to dangle in the air.]

Then you tell me his scheme, demon. I will not ask again.

[Did he expect her to believe that he was just some pawn with no plans of his own? That he had nothing to do with what was happening here?]

[cutlery]

[ It’s not so sudden that he couldn’t dodge it at all, but again, there’s resignation that putting this off would just be delaying the inevitable. He’s at least quick to bring his hands up to dig in at the edges of her grip directly over his throat. It’s not for needing to breathe (whatever was happening down here didn’t change biology, or whatever Sebastian has passing for it), but for what he laughs out, if strained. ]

Yes, strangle the person you are demanding an answer out of. A brilliant plan.

[ Really… Were he just a man, he wouldn’t be able to answer at all. Truly, she’s a brute with no brains at all. Though he’s tempted to dig his nails into her skin just to feel it split, he refrains. He doubts that Set would mind or consider it a violation of the deal that had been struck, but he’s still overly cautious, as well as perfectly aware of how this looks. He doesn’t fight back from her grip, only keeping enough space between her hand and his throat to talk. ]

I did not strike the deal, so I do not know, as I have been trying to tell you. Presumably, he wished to defang Zenith, which would have been much a much more shrewd deal were this more similar to the Isles.

[warmare]

Don’t act like you don’t have Communion.

[For all it may look like she had simply lashed out, Hayame had thought this one through, and her condemnation of his insult is swift and harsh,]

I suspect I would have to cut the tongue from your head if I ever wanted you to stop your smug prattling outside of it anyway.

[Did a demon even breathe? It didn’t matter to her now. He answers her slightly this time, and she rewards him by not jerking him about in the air like a rag doll. Not yet.]

You are a fool to have accepted that deal, demon. Do you think the deals others strike will protect you from me? Did you think I would allow you to roam amidst the Meridian playing ally?

[Her fingers tighten their grip, though, the corners of her lip curling up in disgust.]

We are not even yet, after all.

[Not to her.]

[cutlery]

[ He scoffs again, but this time, his smile isn’t the polite one at all. It’s edged and razor sharp, because now he’s truly just taunting her. It’s the smile she must imagine each time they meet face to face, even when he’s playing at being a perfect gentleman. ]

I have already gotten a taste of the inside of your head and found it lacking. All of that lonely rage and misery, and for what? Your Meri still prefer to deal with me.

[ Even if it’s not true, he’ll take her blame. Silco is his priority to protect, especially when this was truly something he’d anticipated from the moment Silco had mentioned it. His smile is wide and vicious, enough to bare the fangs that mark him as what he truly is under his handsome mask. ]

Come, then, n’wah. [ She may not know the word, but she’ll certainly recognize the pronunciation and specific intonation as Voryn’s language. ] Show me what you consider even.

[warmare]

[Hayame doesn’t have to recognize the pronunciation or the intonation of what Sebastian says. She knows the word, and she knows what it means. She had been called it once before and demanded to know what slur was being thrown at her hooves.

“Foreigner” and “slave”. That is what n’wah means.

Her own sharp teeth are bared in a snarl and as quickly as the words leave his lips Hayame’s powerful physique bunches, shifts, only a second of indication before she suddenly slams the demon in her grip into the wall of roots and dirt, hard and heedless of bruising or breaking that could result from how she flings his body around as if it were nothing. Her upper half might look human, but beneath her skin the musculature of a jinba was knit together far differently.

From the pouch at her waist she suddenly pulls something sharp and fragile- a broken spearhead near rusted away, the only “weapon” she’d been able to find scrounging among the ruins of Springstar. One that finds its tip now uncomfortably close to Sebastian’s left eye.]

I heard you can heal even a lost eye as if it were nothing.

[The rusted spear tip doesn’t waver a single millimeter. The hole where her own left eye used to be burns with shame- with lonely rage and misery.]

But you can’t now, can you, demon? You’re as mortal as anything.

[If there are people gawking, staring, moving away around them… she does not care. But this time, she won’t let it be like it was with that Chimer scum, where he made it seem as if she had assaulted him for nothing. No, she is well within her rights, because-]

Beg forgiveness for taking my eye, for insulting my honor and calling me slave, and I might just take what I’m owed and not shatter your shard beneath my hoof.

[Here beneath the roots, when they’d all been reduced only to what the biology of their bodies allowed… It wasn’t an empty threat.]

[cutlery]

[ He grits his teeth and grunts out a noise of pain as she slams him back against the wall, because she’s right. Here in these roots, he’s rendered mortal (enough, at least), and so he can’t retreat to pieces of his real form that don’t feel pain so acutely. He’s stuck in a mortal shell, even if it doesn’t require every function a human does. But it doesn’t matter. He feels only satisfaction that his sharp words found their mark, and it’s quiet in the fierceness of her anger, but still present even when a spear’s tip comes close to his eye. He doesn’t so much as flinch.

He's a demon, after all. He’s received and given far worse. It’s what it means to attain the sort of prestige he’d had in his Hell.

That vicious smile softens, and he removes one hand from guarding his neck. She can stop it, but it’s only placed gently on her strong forearm. As much as he’d like to fight back, and as much as there’s something dark and violent underneath that current of calm—It doesn’t serve his purposes. ]

You killed me once by tearing my throat beneath your teeth. You may not count it, but I do, for I felt every agony of such a death. Were it reversed, you would count it double, would you not? You call it honor. I call it being spiteful, for I considered a murder—however temporary you see it—a fair enough price for a single eye. You have also had every opportunity to right the injury in the eight months since. And yet, you have not. Am I to blame for your own impotence?

[ Assuming the touch was permitted, his hand slides down her arm towards her wrist. Mockingly. Daringly. ]

Or is it simply the cruel words that hurt you so? How laughable for such a proud warrior.

[warmare]

But you didn't stay dead, did you, demon? The dryad made it so that it never even happened. Call if what you like, but I am the one who decides when we are even!

[She does nothing to stop his hand. Let him scratch at her, let him scrabble for a grip to try and pry her hand off him, let him... slide his hand across her skin? Hayame's lips curls back in disgust as her fingers tighten on his throat.]

I granted you a stay as long as you stayed out of my sight.

[His touch makes her sick. His words make her furious. The makeshift weapon twitches in her grip. The longer she lets him talk the more he will weave his twisted little story, the more of a fool he will make her out to be-]

So blame whatever little deal you made if you must, Gabriel, but I will have a revenge that lasts!

[It's the only warning he has, that anyone watching has, before she viciously stabs the rusted spear tip into his left eye.]

cw: eye gore, [sighs] eldritch v*re mindfuckery

[cutlery]

[ He barks out a laugh first, because as predicted, she’ll never be satisfied at all. She only wants his true death, and that is something that he has confidence won’t be allowed. He’s too valuable to some, too interesting to others, and so, his Shard will always be saved by those alone, if not also for misplaced feelings of righteousness. She’ll always be left wanting, but she’s making a mistake here that she doesn’t realize.

When a demon says you are even, that is a gift. He has stayed out of her way save for a curiosity that she doesn’t even know (and one that neither of them know—), but this is one he could not avoid. How unreasonable and unruly. His pupil dilates under the spear’s tip, but not for fear or anger, but for recognition of what a fool she is to toss it away. He’s been uninvolved, if petty.

No more.

The spear drives into his eye, and the immediate reaction is reflexive. His fingers dig into her skin hard, and the strength is bruising on her arm with his strong grip, but the soft leather gloves can’t break the skin. His body seizes as he jerks back as much as he can from the point of it, but the breath he doesn’t need catches in his throat as he bites down on his lip until the skin splits and bleeds. The pain is hot and vicious, and he can’t retreat to the parts of him that are less human and don’t feel the pain of the body he had so painstakingly created as a mask.

But in Communion, the response is more marked as he can’t hold back, or maybe it’s that he chooses not to. The space of his mind is an abyssal sea composed of the same shadows that he can usually manipulate so freely, but they’re kept quiet underneath the cool composure of the gentleman that Sebastian values so much. In the sharp feeling of that eye being destroyed without relief, he lashes out like a trapped animal. It’s an oil that assaults Communion full of eyes that watch and beasty teeth that grin, bone-white from the abyss. It’s not visual so much as an impression, yet there’s still something monstrous in that dark.

It only lasts as long as the pain and as the spear as held in place, but those vicious mouths speak. It’s a cacophony of growls, hisses, and low-pitched murmurs, all speaking some language that’s unrecognizable and overlapping, but that drips with malevolence. Whatever they’re saying remains a mystery, but the tone and the feelings behind them are clear.

This is what a demon is—a nightmare shoved into physical form, and all its instincts say that it won’t stop until it eats you alive. ]

FROM AFAR, AN OBSERVER.

[redsoil]

[ There was no doubt in his mind, once they all became trapped in their too-small prison and forced to devour one another in pursuit of their victory, that she would find him. There was only so long, that Set and Silco could juggle Sebastian between them. Only so long that he could shelter in the shadows cast by their bodies and avoid direct contact with the jinba warrior who wanted him dead, destroyed. Set has been waiting for this, with all the gravitas of a wwe superfan observing the grudge match of the century.

Hayame is beautiful, incandescent in her madness. Her hatred of the demon she seeks to erase from the world something that Set has never tried to soothe, perhaps only stoke by his proximity to the one who she loathes. Sebastian Michaelis, he lifts not a finger to aid — if he dies, it would be pitiable and unsatisfying; after all, the war god wants nothing more than the animosity between them to grow, to fester. For their vengeances against one another to become crueler and more twisted, until one of them crushes the other's spirit entirely.

( He is so proud. His warrior. His demon. Animosity that feeds him, that he will sup upon and draw into himself. ) And wild enough in his joy, that he forgets the struggle within him in order to loop his arms around Silco's narrow waist, to half-lift the man from where he stands upon the earth alongside him and just — crush him into feral, bruising hug and spin around with him, laughing in unadulterated delight. It's clear that while Set is clever, while he is sly and sometimes stupid as well, he is deeply into the chaos that blossoms in the wake of the pair. He shivers, eyes wide and enraptured with the destructive force of Hayame, biting his lip at the sudden impression of Sebastian's true self.

He squeezes Silco a little, laughing brightly into his ear. Get crushed, ratman. ]

[zauneyete]

[ thanks, he hates it.

Actually, he's enjoying it up until the moment that Hayame's spear pierces his demon, and while there's a twinge of something that could only be called "irony" flickering through communion, and jubilation at Sebastian's beast slipping the reins just for a moment --

He's too busy fighting off Set to do anything about it, which is about as effective as a child, next to the god, even without powers.

So mostly. He's getting crushed enough he doesn't even get to enjoy it. :( Womp womp. ]

cw: eye stuff

[warmare]

[It is a sick thing that she had chosen to do. The rusted spear tip slices oh so easily through the defenseless layers of cornea and lens into the vitreous within, spilling it out over the demons cheek and the dirty metal of her improvised weapon. It isn’t nearly as clean as Gabriel’s attack, the invading fingers that had pulled her eye out of her skull intact and simply ripped until the optic nerve came tearing free, but she is no perfect gentleman with knowledge and skill in this and that, she is a jinba with a hunk of metal and a vicious need to revenge her dishonor.

But even though some surely thought of her as bloodthirsty and cruel, perhaps sadistic as she digs the spear tip in further and twists to make sure the organ is fully ruined… Hayame does not actually relish in what she does. It is disgusting, if she let herself actually think about it too deeply her stomachs might roil, but she is a warrior (has always had to be a warrior). Her honor could not forgive what had been done to her, and this-

This is a demon.

She almost falters when the shadows leak into the surrounding communion space, bringing with them far too many eyes that watch and teeth that gnash. If she had not seen the horrors of the monsters of Alenroux, she might have dropped her weapon then and there and fled. In her own world, there was only human and jinba, and demons were the stuff of story and nightmares alone. But she had seen things since Horos, now Kenos. She won’t-

She won’t give him the satisfaction of stopping. Hairs bristle up and down her long spine, her own pupils dilate sharply and she swallows the fear down, locks her knees so they will not shudder, but she doesn’t pull the blade free even as he bruises her arm with the force of his grip, as his body thrashes in her grip. Stubbornly she holds on, biting in to her bottom lip so hard that she almost draws blood, too, twisting, gouging, slicing as she snarls-

Until she throws Sebastian to the ground in a sudden, vicious movement she tries to pretend isn’t desperation to get that shadowy mass of nightmares out of her head. She knew this human shape was just a mask, but to see-

She inhaled sharply, like she’d forgotten how to breathe, her flanks heaving.]

Are you ready to expose yourself, demon?

[She had thrown him down, but not so far. From here, if she just reared up… if she just brought her hooves crashing down on his skull…]

Show everyone here what you really are!

[If she shattered his shard now—]

[wolof]

[ It's hard to miss all of it, isn't it? The altercation is drawing more and more attention, between Hayame and the Demon, and while Hayame had been promised a binding, her hate is...

Incandescent. Electrified. Filled with so much fury that she's lost the forest for the trees. She wants revenge on the demon, and while he had wronged her, yes, there was little that was going to stop her from going further. From taking him now, when they were both weak, and crushing his skull. She'd wanted nothing more than to do it earlier, from their conversation, and that had been clear.

She knew that Hayame would not like it, but down here? When they were all weakened? Was she really going to shatter him? For no reason? While he was weak? ]

Can he, Hayame?

[ She asked, and stood from her position against a wall -- opposite Set -- where she had been watching. She moves stiffly, and her limbs ache when she tried to do so, her steps still stiff. They have no powers, but Hayame has an advantage. A powerful, large body, where they had nothing. Sebastian is just as human as the rest of them -- and she stepped closer, before she looked at the demon -- she had felt that flood herself, though unlike some, she likely found it... familiar -- and unlike others, it didn't turn her on (Set). Her lips curled, and she placed a hand on the one that held her spear. ]

He is as human as I am, right now. Will you do yourself the dishonor of not meeting him properly on the field?

Is it an assassination you wish to indulge in?

[ It's not that she can read her mind, but... she knew where Hayame's mind would go. How could she not? They had just spoken about it. ]

[cutlery]

[ The air is forced from his unnecessary lungs as he’s thrown down, and those shadows that spill into Communion respond. They shiver, the mouths grin, and the human form that’s on display matches the grins. It’s not as fearsome as it could be, because surely if he could tap into his natural abilities, his eyes would be blood red, and his mouth would be filled with teeth just as fearsome as Hayame’s. He could weigh the value of bringing those shadows out, truly, and he could see the sort of mistake she’s made—

But not here, not now.

Blood and humors drip down his face as his hands dig into the roots. It’s partially for the still hot pain of the mess left of his eye, but something feral, but precise as well. He could strike back, and even slowed and disgustingly human, he could do damage. But even in his feral rage, he didn’t forget his deals. It’s too important of a thing for a demon to ever forget.

His gaze dares her, eggs her on, because every blow will be one that he returns. Not through violence, necessarily, but she will pay for this humiliation in one way or another. There’s not even a thought that she could truly end his existence now. For a creature as vicious and proud as him, the thought that he could die was impossible.

And, indeed, someone intervenes. He’s simply surprised that it’s Akua, of all people. He would have expected Silco, not wanting to lose his precious weapon, or perhaps Set, not wanting to truly lose a fun playmate. He laughs, vicious and barking, but says no more. His words would come out too biting, too bitter. He knows better. He loathes it too. ]

[warmare]

[Hayame knows what Akua's voice sounds like when she is trying to get her to stay her hand from laying a man flat... She had heard it at an information session at the Seat of the Tribune, when she had nearly seen that churl of an elf thing answer for his insults in calling her slave, and she does not relish hearing it now anymore than she had then. She turns her head sharply to the sound, a splash of vitreous fluid glistening on her cheek where it had sprayed from Sebastian's eye, her own one remaining orb blazing with righteous fury.]

Do not malign me in front of these people by calling this an assassination, Akua!

[She spits out the words and gestures with the blood-soaked spear tip in her hand, hooves churning up the earth and tail high, whipping angrily over her haunches. The demon laughs, and in honesty the sound jars more than the fearsome sight of the shadows that glare and gnash. She wishes to cut off his tongue, to render him speechless as well as sightless, and yet-]

I am the party first wronged here!

[Her glare turns back Sebastian's way, lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals the sharp glint of her canines.]

This demon could make this a proper enough battlefield if he were not instead intent on making me out to be some villain!

[wolof]

Could he?

[ She asked, and truly asked. ] For I see that you've taken his eye.

He and I met on the battlefield once, and he barely gave me the room or time to cast my spells. He is a true menace in close combat. [ Her tone is not hateful, it is respectful.

Look, she's in this to see if she can bind him, not out of a personal vendetta. She just can't help but try for the scientific inquiry of it all. ]

Do you think he would let you take his eye, if it were possible?

[ She tried to reach out, to touch her side, as if it would do any good, as if a soothing hand would calm her ire. ]

I cannot cast a spell, Hayame. The...influence down here keeps us all on a fully level playing field, and you are one of the largest and most powerful beings here. [ Her tone is still respectful. ]

You should level the debt between you, and you have done so, yes? An eye for an eye? If you are not satisfied, then is it not best addressed once you are both at your full strength? Is it not more worthy of a fight?

[ She calls it an Assassination otherwise, because that is what it is. Sebastian has little recourse. ]

1/2

[warmare]

Humans fight all the gods damned time! He could.

[She can't let that go without pointing it out, gesturing widely at the gathering of people uneasily observing what was going on. So what if they were all depowered? So what if Akua couldn't use her magic? He had the ability to fight against her and still chose not to. Even if it would have been a desperate struggle against a much more physically powerful woman, he'd still had a chance to potentially wound her or escape. So to her, this can only be pathetic, some scheming false show.

There is a moment where it seems she will strike Akua for trying to touch her now of all times. The last time they had touched-

Yet Akua is not wrong about one thing. Technically, she had revenged herself. Sebastian had taken her eye, and now she has taken his. To go further would be purely spite... but did she care? Her reputation was already tarnished, as far as she could tell, skillfully manipulated by the likes of that churlish elf and this scheming demon. If they were going to make her out to be a beast that knew only violence and temper, then why bother fighting to change it? She could embrace it, she could be the feral natural disaster that a jinba was capable of being...

But she had honor left in her, no matter what anyone else tried to say. The Zeninth energies inside of her must be to blame for this, they have to be. Hayame's lungs heave still, she gnashes her teeth, her one eye burns as she stands there trying to make the decision- or rather, to force herself to make a certain decision. Being content with just striking even takes effort, not shattering his shard and ending this farce once and for all is galling-]

- Get off me, Akua. I'll give you what you want.

[Her voice is ice cold but at least it is not bubbling over with hatred the likes reserved for Sebastian Michaelis. She pulls her dun withers away from the other woman as if preparing to storm off, to leave this place--]

[warmare]

[But not before she addresses the man on the ground where she has thrown him.

Rather, not before she disdainfully spits at him, her tail whipping and her hooves digging into the dirt. Set had once come crowing to her of discovering secret things about Sebastian, and she had dismissed his petty little information as useless for what she'd actually wanted to do, but now...]

Clean yourself up, demon. How is anyone going to believe your gentleman act when you look like such a mess?

[As tempting as it is to linger and see if her words sting, a last little cut atop of the actual damage she has done... Hayame instead turns her back on what she has wrought and disappears into one of the tunnels leading from the chamber.]

[wolof]

[ Akua's hand only stilled for a moment longer, at the barked, cold command. She does not wish to burn the bridge with Hayame, she sees the merit in the woman, for all that she is prickly and angry, lashing out at the world about her and easily set off. She had reason to be, she thought, and when people like Voryn, or Sebastian, managed to draw her ire, or say the words that they knew would upset her, it is not surprising that she would take issue with being asked to calm down.

She stopped, and let her hand drop, and Hayame stopped, and paused, and Akua wondered if all of her work, the gentle guidance she had offered Hayame, nudges and suggestions, had been for naught. She said she would give her what she asked for, but --

She carefully held her spot, and Hayame only insulted him -- Akua couldn't help the soft, almost please smile that crossed her face, at the insult.

Well, she had mentioned caution toward shattering the demon, but insults were a part of a Villain's flair. And for all that Hayame said and felt that she was a beast, she had a tongue like a rapier at times. When she turned, Akua looked at Sebastian for a half moment, long enough, to take stock of him. He would not die from this, at best it would be an inconvenience. She had no doubt that once returned to his power, he would be perfectly fine once again. ]

Let us hope that there is a swift resolution to our entrapment, and powerlessness, hm?

[ She asks, with a soft tone. It is not compassionate, but it is also not abrasive. Decidedly neutral. She does not wish Sebastian to be shattered any more than Hayame, or Set. She wants battle to be meaningful, and she wants to avoid tipping the scales against them any more than necessary.

She turned, to step away, not quite following Hayame, but... perhaps close enough to where she headed, that one could assume that they would eventually, have to talk. ]

🎀

[cutlery]

[ As they argue, Sebastian clutches at his face and still bristles with energy that could only be described as a fight-or-flight reflex, but he very much wants to fight. Hayame is precisely correct that he could put up a fight, and Akua was correct that he was still dangerous, but he’s bound by his word. It may not be something tangibly binding, but to a demon it may as well be. It’s perhaps the closest thing a demon has to honor or something like it.

But, oh, how he’d very much like to renege on that guarantee. What he’d do is only suitable to his true native tongue, and those thoughts are almost grounding. The living shadows eventually quiet and disappear back into the shapeless mire of his mind in time to hear Hayame’s final insult. It’s petty and barbed, and it doesn’t quite hit the mark that Set had alluded to, but only because of the circumstances. It only brings out something chillingly devoid of feeling in Communion, as if that abyss threatened to swallow her up. Yet curiously, it just as quickly evaporates into a cool nothingness.

He'd meant it sincerely when he’d called them even, and she should have taken that as the gift it was. It didn’t have to be a truce or an agreement to play nice, but it was an understanding that he wouldn’t play dirty, more like. But now, she’s drawn his genuine ire, and that’s a dangerous place to exist in. It’s something that Akua is likely to get a sense of as she looks him over, since his attention isn’t on her at all, it’s only on Hayame’s retreating back as she leaves.

But he takes a shaky breath as he composes himself and finds his poise once more. He pulls his hand away from his face as he stands, though he does smooth a long bang over the left behind gore. That is a problem to take care of sooner rather than later… But first, he thinks he needs to take out a little bit of this pent-up aggression on a certain god. ]