kenoslogs | NOVEMBER EVENT | THE HARBINGER ORACLE

NOVEMBER EVENT | THE HARBINGER ORACLE

HEDGING YOUR BETS

Bearers feel it. Similar to when the Scorching Isles was opened, there is the same tug, from somewhere in the distance. Those who are in springstar feel it from closer, like a blossom of warmth in your heart, you feel the Oracle spring to life. Those in Highstorm feel it too, but distant. Far away. You remember Cyrus’s words, that it would come to life in Springstar, and you know, just from the relative distance, from how far away it feels – He was probably right.

So bearers must make their way to the center of Springstar’s residential district. Finding one’s way to Springstar will be difficult, in fact. Preparations have been underway since Cyrus’s announcement, and Springstar leaps into action. The Legionnaires are already marching by the time the first bearers start moving throughout the city. In addition to any of Meridian’s own preparations, the Legionnaires establish choke points and start organizing evacuations. It will be difficult to make your way through Springstar, but the closer bearers make it to the hedge maze, and what seems to be the oracle at the center, the warmer their chests feel. Throughout the city, it feels warm, like small wicks of heat. The closer bearers become, the more it feels like a torrent. It is burning them to their center and igniting them to their cores. Like the fire of drive, is what it feels like. Like the hunger for something more than just food, or anything else, like the anticipation of victory.

The maze itself is where it is the most intense as bearers start to make their way through the hedge maze. Vines and brambles lie within a neat hedge, and it looks like it is safe to jump, or scale, but the moment a bearer tries to jump it, cut through it, or even go beneath it, roots, brambles, and vines lash out to entrap bearers, and start to drag them down and into the hedges. You will have to figure out a way out – lest you be stuck for seemingly the near future.

Of course, when Dimitri’s hand touches the stone statue in the middle, it all goes dark, and wherever you were, whoever you were fighting –

Every bearer collapses at the same time.

YOU'D BETTER BE A-MAZE-ING!

In the dark, there is that fiery impression of the Harbinger. Competition, drive, disdain for even those that best them. It is clear, in the dark, with your eyes closed, that the Harbinger does not see the Bearers as worthy to obtain it. You feel ghostly hands on your mind, into you, as if it is delving for more, trying to pluck and pull out the right memory. It looks for victories, triumphs, defeats, or betrayals. Something that shows the mettle of the bearer, what it is looking for. When it finds what it is looking for – or is this just a dream? – after the bearer experiences the dream, they will get the distinct impression that it is not enough. That the Harbinger wants more. It wants to see what this bearer can do. It wants to see you rise to the challenge, bearer! Will you do as it wishes, and show it the scope of your mettle, or will you capitulate and let the Harbinger know that it was right – you aren’t enough?

The Harbinger wants you to prove them wrong. Can you do that? Will you use spite to convince it that it is wrong? The Harbinger at the center of this labyrinth imparts to bearers, that it will not allow the weak to succeed, that nobody who cannot reach it, would ever be able to protect them. They look down on bearers, and it is up to you, to convince them that you are worth their attention.

When bearers wake, they will be stuck in a foyer. The walls seem blank, and there is a door, leading further into the maze. It is not… fully dark, everything here seems to be lit just enough to move around without trouble, but it is not bright. Bearers can look left, and right, and see others beside them. They are not alone, but nor are they with others of their faction. No, you can feel it, between all of you, gathered here in one space. The humming of your shared aspect fills the room, as if all of you together in one space feels right.

You will not be able to stay. The foyer lasts only until the last person leaves, and if any try to stay behind and stationary, they will find that eventually a door appears, and the room begins to shrink. You had better get moving!

You must move further into the maze. You will find that grouping up for long periods of time becomes impossible, and moving from one door to the next can find foes, allies, or even neutral parties. Every door you open within this maze, leads to new and unusual locations. You may both walk in, from opposite ends, only to find that the doors are gone when you turn your back. Do you end up on a precarious path over spikes, lava, or even water? Do you walk into a room with your greatest desire, a hunger that can now never be sated? Will you do anything to find your way through the corridors? Will bearers help each other, and resist the call of the Harbinger, or will you push over even your treasured ones to win?

MADE IN THE SHADE

And even further in, as you start to catch sight of them, patches of darkness seep into the corners, into everything. They may be hidden, at first. They may lurk underneath patches of leaves, or in shadowed corners. But the longer bearers are within this labyrinth, the longer the shadows seem. They start to reach out, to pull bearers into their shadowy depths. You may feel malaise, or an unwillingness to continue, once you first step within these patches. The longer you are there, the harder it is to get out. You will need help from your friends or dear ones, or sheer strength of will – but can you fight on, as you start to lose the things that motivate you?

And then there are the visions. People you know, love, or trust, they round corners, just ahead. They seem just out of range, and at first, it is difficult to tell if they are there or not. But they happen to reappear, and then disappear around a corner. Try and chase them, if you dare. When your fingers touch their arm, or grab their clothing, or heaven forbid, if you pull them into a hug – it seems impossible to pull away. They were treasured, weren’t they? There is a reason they appear here, to you. Why would you want to pull them away? Why would you –

They reach out, their fingers seem long, as they reach toward your shard – they will not be deterred by clothing or armor, their fingers seem to bend and twist around the junctions – before they find purchase on your shard. They rip it from you, and it feels like you are being separated from something. It’s painful, it hurts, but the last thing you see, as they hold your shard in your hand, is someone you care very deeply for, placing the shard in the same place on their own body, and your own face smiles back at you, and it all goes black. You are gone. Into… nothing.

NOTES

Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle! Please refer to the ooc post for more details about what’s happening in the labyrinth! Feel free to direct questions here.

If your character gets killed by a shadow-copy, please let us know in the reporting post that goes up on November 20th if they touch the effigy. If they do not, please let us know on the deaths page! Don't forget to report any dissipations as a whole! Please also let us know if your character is saved by another bearer, or if your character’s shard is taken by the shadow copy for the entire duration of the event. This will not result in any permadeath, but you might get some cool lore! Teehee! If your character defeats a shadow creature, please let us know [HERE]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Raphael had been moving from rooftop to rooftop. Rather idle, really. He had no interest in dealing with this "defense of Springstar" after all. His glass of wine had not even spilled a drop from one to the other. Though, he wasn't flying, either, but instead simply vanishing from one (in a burst of sulphur and the heat of a flame) to another, reappearing like someone emerging from the shadows, or perhaps missed from and earlier passing.

It was with all the casual air, that he approached this woman, staring down the buildings.

He did not know her, so it is easy to assume that she is likely Zenith. Of course, according to some, he should be fighting tooth, claw, and nail —all of which he could — but Raphael was no more interested in direct intervention than anyone.

He smiled, and tipped his wine toward her. ]

The troops, they scamper like a plague of rats;
The Zenites, hunting through our own alleys, like a pack of cats;

Though some, it seems, find little interest in the fight;
In fact, I have one of them in my own sight!

[ Please, stop him... ]

Do they prove to be truly a foe?
Or will other aims, their loyalty show?

[ He sipped at his wine, every inch merely a man, and little else. He can't be serious, can he? ]

[If the woman he approaches notices anything about his arrival... She does not seem to show it. He arrives (she smells him, the sulfur) and she simply idly lifts a hand to draw pale fingers through the long blonde hair her current form possessed, one foot idly bobbing up and down to some unheard rhythm where she sits with her legs crossed, dangling over the edge of the roof.

When he speaks though... Then, she turns around, her natural black eyes replaced with almost supernaturally bright blue. Casual, unbothered, she moves to take a draw of her long kiseru pipe as she sizes his seemingly human form up and down, tutting softly to herself... until the poem takes form and makes her lips curl up in the corners. Instead of laughing though, or insulting him... When the last syllable dies in the air...]

The maze of Hasa
Invites us to show our beasts
Yet what use is this,
When both the sun and the moon
Still conceal their true faces?

[A tendril of fragrant smoke curls slowly from the corner of her lips as she smiles sharply. "Your turn".]

Edited 2023-11-21 12:25 (UTC)

[ An artist! Raphael approached her perch, and stood, looking over the landscape before them. The smoke didn't bother him in the slightest, but the curl of his lips said that he very clearly wanted... something in hand for this moment. Bereft of his wine bottle from his last perch, he could only hold his elbow, and looked down upon the path. ]

The shard-bearers, oh how they crowed;
For although the powers that Kenos bestowed;

They found themselves winding on the path;
Still, they would face each others' wrath;

Should they meet, their blades crossed;
Would either accept that they chance a loss?

[ His smile is... amused, pleased. Nobody plays these games with him! So he will truly do this all day, if allowed. ]

[It has been quite some time, since Kiritsubo has indulged in a game like this. Oh, she recalled the era well when they were all the rage. The nobles had gathered in their palace gardens and hunting villa verandas, their silks arranged in perfect layers of color, their hair shining, their eyes and faces hidden coyly behind reed screens and fans. The sake had flowed, the winding streams had delivered prompts and snatches of others poetry to play upon, the moon had been bright... even the Four Generals had indulged when the mood struck. Konnosuke had always been clever with such things, Benten was surprisingly creative, even Murakumo could muster a verse, and though her lover had usually not crafted his own witty phrases, too free to be bound by such restriction as syllable counts and kigo... Kiyoami had drunk with them, and listened idly.

Ah... Those had been carefree, wanton days.

She takes another drag of her pipe as she listens to the response, formulating the turns of phrase for her own as she watches some of the other shard-bearers, there, winding on the path. Hmmm... She turns her gaze back up with another coy smile.]

The shame of defeat
Rotten, like spoiled rice wine
Cloying on the tongue
How they struggle to cleanse it
When they need not drink at all...

[Invitingly, she pats the space beside her on the edge of the roof.]

Edited 2023-11-24 06:27 (UTC)

[ Raphael took the implied offer, and sat next to her, his wineglass in hand. The smoke doesn't even bother him, though after a moment, he crooked a finger behind him, to pull the bottle he'd left on a further table near. It rocked, and manifested beside him, before he filled his glass. He even tipped it in offering, before looking down at the bearers winding their paths, fighting and struggling.

Ah, they need not drink at all...?

He almost laughed. ]

Ah! But should they fail to drink,
Is it not true that they would sink?

Their thirst not quenched, yet naught but turned wine,
Forever their choices will be entwined;
For never will their fates fully align.

[ Hells, he's enjoying this. ]

[That was a neat trick. A (now) blonde brow raises slightly, and though it would be nice to steal a glass for herself... Well, she unfortunately does not have a glass. Nor is she going to ruin the taste of it by pouring it into her flash, which would taint the flavor with the remnants of strong sake. The bottle might be in danger... But first, they have a battle to attend to. Well, more like a conversation.

Fate... ? Ah, she knew so much and yet so little about fate. So few did. So how about... hmm... Kiritsubo leaned a bit closer, like she was imparting a secret.]

Fate is a silk string
Tangled, yet pointless to smooth
This world is nothing;
A flower viewing banquet
Floating on the smoke of hell.

[And though it was a little bit too on point... when she says the last line, she smiles around the mouth of her long pipe and then releases a lingering swirl of fragrant smoke between the two of them.]

Edited 2023-11-29 06:37 (UTC)

[ Raphael did not even bat an eyelash to the smoke, but his delighted chuckle is one that... fills the space between them. There are now walls to swallow the sound, but he projects just perfectly. Loud enough for them both to be enveloped, but not so loud that he shouted down to the street. Raphael was, after all, above all else, a performer. ]

All mortals hold their fates as precious gifts,
And yet, as their sunsets fall, their lives drift;

Into a void so as deep as our world's ends,
Perhaps here, they wish to make amends;

But would their aim land so true,
Or shall the destruction ensue?

[ Unfortunately, Raphael had so many poems ~~and songs~~ about mortal lives. ]

[What a cultured, crafted laugh. It is almost so manufactured that it has become natural again. Fascinating, really, to someone like her, whose forms were false and yet something she wore as easy as breathing, that were as comfortable to her as not just a second skin, but a first. But... her blue eyes (beneath, her dark eyes) slide over what little exposed flesh she can see on her new companion. Hmm. He might know something about that, too.

What fun.

Her gaze slides back to their entertainment below, letting his next poem curl in her ear. A void as deep as our world's end, hmm? She mulls that one over a moment, one ankle bobbing up and down idly over the edge of the roof.]

As the sunlight fades
Twilight will always follow
But what are amends
To watchers on the rooftop
Wondering as the worlds end?

[As if she finds it funny, the two of them here (two who did not know what the word "mortal" felt like?), she chuckles softly. He was a performer, she was a narrator hidden in the wings behind the curtains... But here they both are.]

Edited 2023-12-03 20:21 (UTC)

[ Raphael paused, his eyes looked down, and he considered the next phrase, the next step. There were many paths they could take. Amends, amends... What were amends to people like him? He was a devil, after all, he had little need to consider them, to weigh them, to —

He opened his mouth, his fingers outstretched, as he began to speak: ]

The weight of scales in a sinner's hand.
Should they watch them spool like sand;
But above them all are those that look down,
How heavy is their heads that wears the crown

[ Well, perhaps not yet for Raphael, but the crown of their position of being above sin, in the mortal sense. ]

[Amends... Ah, but amends were for those who had the luxury of regret. At some point, she had left such things behind. But even though she had left behind things most mortals had... There was one thing she certainly had yet to let go of. Taking a long drag of her pipe as she comes up with the words, her pale fingers go for her matching silver flash, rubbing a thumb along the side and toying with the idea of undoing the cap.

Hmm... Hmm...]

High above them all
The blazing sun of Springstar
May shine bright on gold
Yet my pipe is but silver
And my hands still a sinner's

[She is smirking, toward the end, flirtatious and curious, when she finally undoes the cap and lifts her flask to clink it against the side of her companion's fancy wine glass.]

Cheers.

[And bottom's up. Though her liquor smells quite a bit sharper than his.]

Edited 2023-12-08 13:18 (UTC)

[ Raphael laughed, and tipped his glass in return, before he took a drink himself. The hands of a sinner, hm? He eyed her with curiosity, given that last line, and though his impulse was to simply continue, she had broken the spell with a tip of her glass, and to continue would be like a string of encores gone on too long. The devil knew the meaning of timing, and though he often wanted the last word...

Well, he knew how to share a stage. ]

You have a way with words.

[ He said, and it's with a friendly smile, of one artist to another, and his eyes find the road beneath them, as he looked down on it. Something like a king looking down on peons, as another few legionnaires ran by, their armor clanking under the warm Springstar sun. ]

What nature of wordsmith have I found in this most tempestuous of battles?

[How courteous.

The liquor is a familiar burn down her throat, close to but not quite exactly a match for the drink she had once preferred to carry around in her hip flask in her own world. Ah, the monks were right. Attachment to the mortal coil and worldly desires were such heavy, painful chains…

A last swallow moves down the pale line of her perfectly crafted throat before Kiritsubo releases a satisfied sigh and leans back onto a hand where she lazes on the roof’s edge, returning her temporarily teal gaze to her companion, her own smile just as amiable.]

As do you.

[She thinks they both know it, but. They both deserve the compliments. Why not. It’s his question that is a bit trickier.]

One who spent her fair share of years at the human court, writing poems for the moon viewing banquets and lovers’ pillows… ? One who met far too many cultured men wandering the mountains searching for enlightenment and leaving verses behind them like fallen leaves… ?

[Both, and more, but that would do for now.]

I find myself wondering the same… You do have a courtly air about you…

[ Human court certainly eluded to a nature of creature that was closer to Raphael's own nature, and his eyebrows lifted, and his head tipped, as if in curiosity at the statement. It was loaded, after all, to say something like that, and Raphael did not doubt that there was implication in such a statement. He adored curiosities all, and thus far the only creature like him he'd met has been Sebastian. Could there be more? ]

Of a nature. I have been known to linger in many the court of a desperate king, or an even more hungry duke or duchess. I am a... provider to those who have a hunger, after all.

[ A hand to his chest. ] You may call me Raphael.

[ Names for devils were curious things, of course, but few sought to summon them if they weren't going to have a reason to. Raphael had never feared being asked for. All it took was a letter, after all, and it would find its way into his hands, perhaps through the deft fingers of his warlocks. ]

I have not been in a realm with so many fascinating individuals in a long time, and I count you among them.

[ He was unfortunately, corny. ]

Edited (waIT REPEAT ICON) 2023-12-13 07:19 (UTC)

[There was a reason that she said it that way, after all. The "human court". The spirit world to which she truly belonged by birth did have a King, yes, and he possessed a great deal of authority but... Kiritsubo had never respected such things, only answering his call when it was of interest or use to her. The human Emperor, though... that had been in her early days, when she was learning the ways of humans, delighting more in casual manipulations or tricks before the centuries rendered those actions somewhat repetitive and dull.

And now... Now, she is in Kenos, beside a... fascinating individual.]

A provider to those who hunger...

[So this Raphael truly was a poet, then, even outside of the constraints of verse and, apparently, rhyme. She cannot say she has ever cared for the need to do that, considering it a Western flavor she needn't bother with, but, sure, she'll acknowledge it. And she will laugh just a bit, too herself, before she returns, with just a touch of that rhyming convention-]

Then consider me... a wandering artist for those who wonder.

[She could say "sage", but really... fortune telling was more of a hobby compared to what she considered her true work.]

One named Kiritsubo.

[One smiling at him with lips that were both hers and not, on a face that, once she left this trial and understood what had happened... Most people would never see again.]

Then it is a pleasure, to meet such a... muse for those wondering artists!

[ He's so... congenial about it, it's almost difficult to suspect there was more to him than what he portrayed. That was the beauty in it, of course, but Raphael was a devil, and there was little shame in what he was, beyond his vague contract with Sebastian, who had demanded that they keep their natures to themselves. Something he was happy to do, of course. Appearing to mortals to teach them of his proclivities was even more shocking, or even better: something they had no opportunity to research.

It meant that the devil was having even more fun than he had in Toril, but alas! He had such plans for it!

Though, it also means that his threads of amusement are clear on his face. He does not care which faction he deals with, either. Though that should not be surprising, given his vague disinterest in the fight itself, beyond the fodder for poetry. He sipped at his glass of wine, and his soft, brown eyes tipped back at the road, and then to Kiritsubo. ]

Now that we have made acquaintance, I suppose I should do my duty and ask: what brings you to such a rooftop? Are you as bored by this...scurrying as I?

[A muse... That was a fun word. Was she the muse... or was every one of her clients her muse, for the fleeting, passing hours they spent under her hands before she left them marked forever by her art, and she left to wander the centuries on her own path? A philosophical question for the ages that makes her light laughter continue for a bit, pleasant on her lips.]

Is that your duty?

[She wonders. But she does answer, picking her long, carved pipe back up to spin slowly between her thin, pale fingers as she turns her own falsely teal eyes to the road, then to Raphael.]

I would not say bored... "Disinterested as of yet", perhaps. All this talk of the Oracles... I am looking to「see」what they are made of.

[Her lips curl slightly when she brings the mouth of the pipe to her lips, inhaling a bit of fragrant smoke and then slowly letting it out from the corners of her mouth.]

And of course... what our fellow shard-bearers are willing to do to get them~

[ He chuckled, that rich, low sound that sounded like music in the space between them. It's not the sound that would make her think that he thinks she is funny, but the elusion to his duty is something he finds funny, although he doesn't voice it. Always keeps his secrets, that one. ]

Perhaps it is! [ He says, though his tone is light, and joking. He clearly is playing with his words, never speaking a lie, but perhaps the "truth" is vague. Wobbly. ]

I understand the temptation to simply watch. I will admit, I am not oft one for direct intervention with such matters myself, but... alas, I am afraid that it may be required of even us, eventually.

[ His eyebrow quirked, as he took a long sip of his drink. ] Let the very foundation of these buildings quake, should we intervene ourselves, hm?

[What can she say, about keeping secrets? Nothing. What she does instead... is「look」when she feels the urge... But sometimes, it's more interesting not to. To play as if she were just a mortal herself who had no idea who would live and who would die, what bound them, and where their paths led. Not that those things were ever set in stone... though over time, she had become very good at judging the likelihood.

She loved being surprised, still. That was the whole point of the world, in fate being some false thing that humans believed in just to avoid responsibility. It was the freedom over choices, the way those choices changed the outcomes... That was the beautiful part. That is why she is here, on this roof, watching Shard-bearers below them exercise what freedom they had to decide what they would fight for and how they would do it.]

Direct intervention...

[Her eyes that should be dark, dark pools but are now hidden by the perfect mask of blue linger on her own hand for a moment, follow the trail of smoke from her pipe, before she looks back over at her company. And she half-smiles, like she finds it amusing to think of someone like herself doing something as silly as fighting in the streets or clawing for an Oracle, like she knows something. Like,]

Wouldn't that be almost unfair... ?

[She has the freedom yet to choose, as she had over so many centuries. And she had always chosen neutrality, because the consequences of her choosing a side, or a selfless cause, well...

It would be far more of a certain outcome then, wouldn't it? And where was the fun in that?]

Oh, quite so!

[ Raphael, on the other hand, has no such choice. Not really. His lack of intervention is born from nature itself. Devils follow their laws (hell has its laws) and to ask them to stray is to ask them to break the very rigid structures that make them devils over demons. After all, they were all evil, but there were nuanced differences between them, and well, Raphael had no interest in breaking his very nature.

After all, Kenos could ask plenty of him, and he would offer his power to those that required it, if asked and bargained-for cleverly, but to simply do so? Of his own volition?

Please! That would be ludicrous! Raphael would hate to offer his power in that way. Fighting for it. Could he? Of course, but without the proper set up, he couldn't Bear the thought.

(What was the proper set up? A speaker system, obviously.) ]

Hence why we sit on this roof, with our drinks, our smoke, and our fine company, to allow them to fight it out amongst themselves. To do otherwise would be a waste! I would much rather spend my time indulging, rather than joining the rank and file.

[The difference between devils and demons is not something Kiritsubo is the most expert in, seeing as they were more of a Western species than her own kind, and she had only become acquainted with them in the past few centuries... But nature, well. She is accustomed enough to that.

The flattery though, she likes. Sure. She is fine company.]

In that case, my dear Raphael...

["Dear" already? Why not? He had earned her respect, fleeting and whimsical as it could be, in their little poetry battle, whether he realized that was happening or not. Though the body she temporarily wore was innocent looking at first glance, maidenly in shape with large, doe-like eyes... there is a lascivious, experienced energy in her movements as she leans closer, lips curling into a mischievous smirk.]

Shall we add "gambling" to what we are doing here on the roof in our fine company... ?

[She slips her pale fingers into the barely-modest gaps of her kimono, coming out with a small, jingling purse.]

I have coin, but... We could always bet more interesting things, too...

Oh?

[ He asked with a laugh. Raphael might appear to be a human, but his eyes do not miss the practiced motions, the way her body moved, or the way she seemed to ooze experience and class. She may look maidenly, with those wide eyes and shape, but Raphael was keen and had been deceiving mortals for far longer than most. He could see the signs of a liar of the caliber he was used to, and it made him relax somewhat.

In some ways, at least. ]

Ah, my friend, I have only been here for a scant few weeks. Funds are terribly hard to come by, for those who do not seek them.

[ A wave of his hand, before: ]

Let's wager something of worth more value than mere coin. A favor, perhaps, to the victor? Favors are of far more value than mere gold.

[Funds were very easy for a woman like her to simply... come across. She cannot say that she has ever really had to try that hard to find what she needed, taking advantage of how slow in the head some men could be in the company of a woman as beautiful as she was- or, could make herself be, depending on tastes. But... She wasn't all that interested in it, besides the nice things she coveted and the things she wished to do. She jingles the coin pouch...

And then slips it back inside of her kimono with a flash of the colorful tattoo across her left breast, honeycomb oozing beneath a deadly wasp across her skin.]

A favor, then.

[That sounded far more interesting.]

But what shall our wager be? Shall we choose ourselves a champion... ? Or perhaps, we play as if we are proper cheerleaders for the factions we have chosen... ?

[ He laughed, and looked over the battlefield, the city streets, and considered. ]

I do not know much of my faction, beyond the infighting so recently witnessed. They seem determined, but disagree on simple things such as method, or ability, or even whether one should or should not fight. I wonder if your Zenith is similar, hm?

[ No, Raphael held little loyalty toward Meridian, though that was not likely to change. How could a man who venerated himself above all others willingly truly support a cause. Raphael wanted little more than to see his world return. The sunk cost of his efforts motivated him. ]

Let us choose champions. Those whom we know will fight hard, whether or not it is for our chosen side.

[ He at least, knew of several. ]

Similar enough, I assume. I made a charitable little offer to help with this and none of them even knew well enough to take me up on it...

[What a shame, honestly... But she supposes she cannot fault a population that is largely mortal for not knowing what to do in such a situation as this. She's content enough to sit back and watch.

But champions? Kiritsubo finds the idea amusing, and so she joins Raphael in looking down at those Shard-bearers making their way toward and through the garden maze. Below them, they seem so small, but her eyes are keen, and she had done plenty of observing in the days leading up to all of this chaos.]

Hmmm... I'll choose Mister Tall, Brooding, and Blonde.

[A dark nail points down to the armored figure of one Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, racing through the hedges.]

I can sniff righteous dedication on him from here. And surely a damsel like myself should have a knight in shining armor... ?

[ His laugh is darkly delighted, as his eyes marked the one she picked out, and made an assessment. Righteous dedication surely was the way to describe the knight, and Raphael surely would think that there should be a contrast to that.

As his eyes scan over, one sticks out, with an artificial arm, and ears that stand up straight. There's a certain darkness to the way the boy moves, the way he lurks and slips in and out of the shadows. Not righteous determination, but qualities that Raphael could see as worthwhile. After all, the boy was sneaking along. Likely a Zenite, but Raphael had seen the other among Meridian-led forces before. It was easy to make the choice to choose someone he was not familiar with, over someone he was.

Besides, it made it more fun. ]

Let us take that little creature down there. I always did enjoy supporting those who had more room to grow.

[ Did the boy remind him of a young boy he'd once taken under his wing, ungrateful creature that he was? Yes, but we won't say that. ]

NOVEMBER EVENT | THE HARBINGER ORACLE

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