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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- divinity original sin: fane,
- elder scrolls (the): voryn dagoth,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate/: gray,
- fate/: quetzalcoatl,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- final fantasy xiv: cid garlond,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- forgotten realms: raphael,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- haikyuu!!: atsumu miya,
- htwmho: rudbeckia de borgia,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- legend of zelda (the): midna,
- locked tomb (the): john gaius,
- marvel: nebula,
- oc: liem talbott,
- practical guide to evil: akua sahelian,
- reverse 1999: regulus,
- vampire hunter d: d,
- zone-00: kiritsubo
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.
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?
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.
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]
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]
FOR VORYN & SILCO ➳ THE ENEMY OF MY ENEMY IS ALSO MY ENEMY ➳ 被害妄想部
But the Harbinger Oracle must be claimed for Meridian. She keeps going through the anyway.
The next door that she passes through transports her to a wide intersection of corridors made of completely different stone than the place she had been before. Calming the heave of her lungs after a desperate gallop through a series of triggered traps barely avoiding swinging blades and sinking floors, she finally goes through like she has grown accustomed, with an arrow notched on the string of her bow and the sharp point of the weapon ready to be trained in an instant on anything that moves as she materializes... But there is no enemy nor ally in sight as the door closes behind her and her one uncovered eye darts about in search of threats.
None, that is, until Voryn Dagoth appears from one of the hallways to her left.
That man is a member of Meridian, someone who, if the Harbinger Oracle's impression of not relying on anyone else were to be ignored... that any other Meridian might be glad to temporarily work with to get closer to their goal of surviving long enough to reach the center of this maze. But Hayame... Hayame's lip curls up instantly in the corner as if she has caught a whiff of manure.
And her arrow does not leave her bowstring.]
no subject
red eyes sight up the shaft of a nocked arrow, raising further to see hayame in possession of the bow. it's aimed directly at him, and voryn can't discount her hatred as he makes his next movement: releasing his sword entirely.)
Hayame, (voryn addresses her calmly, though it's obvious he's winded. there hasn't been a pocket of time in which the labyrinth has allowed him to rest, and thankfully, so far, he's been lucky until now to run into fellow meri who feel no animosity toward him.
she may be as surprised to see him as he is to see her, but that won't add peace to the situation. there might as well be a zenite before him now considering the danger he's currently in.)
I should've known we'd meet in these halls. I'm learning that the Harbinger is fond of contention... but I have no quarrel with you. Will you please lower your weapon?
no subject
Her fingers twitch. She thinks of disposing of him right here in this hallway and crushing his shard, then pretending she had no clue what happened to him during the Harbinger Oracle. It would burn not to claim his death and proudly expound upon why she was just in doing it, why she deserved to revenge herself, why he was a potential traitor obviously all too willing to risk letting Zenith discover their secrets or manipulate their faction members for the sake of a demon's cock, but in the end--]
If it isn't the whoremaster.
[She does not say his name, nor his titles. She would seem far too petty if she threw around "Vern" that lightly, and he would surely take far too much satisfaction from her addressing him correctly, "respectfully", when he was constantly crowing about how much he value he put upon such a thing. (As if she herself did not.)
So she goes with what he has made himself most recently known for... his apparent preference for narratophilia. Surely no one in Meridian with ears could refute the label now. It is a fact.
As if he were the enemy, she sizes him up from where she stands, noting the stains of magma left behind from the trap he had escaped. The one she had has left its marks- some blood smeared across the armor she wears on her equine half seems not to be hers, but there are scratches along her arm, a deeper cut across the side of her face past her temple. It must have cut the leather eyepatch she usually wore, because that is gone, replaced by hastily tied bandages to hide the organ from view (rather, to hide everything in view from the organ).
But the both of them are still alive. They are still both striving for the Oracle. (For all she hated this man, she had never accused him of not fighting for Meridian in general.)]
Are you sure?
[Despite her scathing response, the bow is lowered... but she does not put it away. She does not even take the arrow off the string.]
If I provide you with a sufficiently lickable wound, you might could take it to our enemies and have them tend it for you after I claim the Oracle.
no subject
tension is to be expected, she's sensitive; however, he does not have business with her.)
A "master" of whores? I have been elevated in your estimations, (voryn counters, folding his arms to further demonstrate his unwillingness to battle an ally. hayame lowers her bow, which means that they've entered some temporary agreement not to be at each other's throats.
that's enough for him to work with.)
I think that's sufficient, don't you? My focus has never been on you, it's been on taking the Oracle for Meridian. I am a warrior of and for my family. Call me names all you like, but I am once again advising you to put aside your hatred for me to do what is necessary.
(at this moment, it's escaping the expansive hall they're in. all that's left is an exit at each end, and the pervasive sense that something overlooks them from on high.)
Which direction did you come from?
no subject
Well.]
I am doing what is necessary.
[Finally, an Oracle that seemed to urge them just to go it alone. Every single time, Hayame has hated that no matter how much glory she herself claims for Meridian, no matter how meritorious or loyal or painful her service... if there were enough fools among them whining neutrality, if there were enough weak-willed enough to be swayed by Zenith, if there were enough making mistakes... They could just lose. She could only make up for so many. But this time... This time it didn't matter, right? Even if all the rest of them weren't enough, even if this man here decided to go spend his time with Zenites or sating his lecherous desires, surely as long as she-]
What does it matter what direction I came from? These doors will surely take us gods know where anyway.
[She has tried doubling back, and even a door she had just gone through... It took her somewhere different than the hall she had previously been in. Like the Oracle was playing with them, taunting them, making sure they could only keep driving forward in the absence of anything at all to guide them through the maze by sight or spatial memory. They must keep going, show their drive-]
Unless you have learned the lesson I put before you last we spoke, just pick one and leave.
[And she would do the same. Simple. She was even being magnanimous enough to let him do the picking first! Unless he had a change of heart thanks to her communion ultimatum of do not speak in front of me again until you have learned to stop fucking our enemies?]
no subject
their disagreements are plenty, but their discussions of late haven't been hostile on his end. his temper has been tested, and he used sebastian in a story to be petty; however, it's not as if it harmed anyone. voryn isn't certain when sex has ever been a litmus test for where one's loyalties lie, especially if it's tactical in the sense that sebastian might look at him as his master. so, although he's been resistant to change, he decided to undertake the challenge of becoming a truer ally to the people of springstar, which unfortunately includes the betmer.
of course, all the effort has come to is this.)
As I continue forward, I have been attempting to find a pattern to where the doors lead. It is for your allies that I wish to find safe passage through this labyrinth. And I'm sure I'm close to an answer. (all of this is followed by muttering behind his hand as it rests against his mouth and chin. if only someone would work together with him to test his theories. even a zenite would do in a pinch, willing to lie to them if he discovered a way.) ... I'm sure I am. Left, through, back through, then left–and I should have been able to return to the previous chamber. Perhaps I should have gone right...
(turning his head to behold the door he came through, red eyes widen.)
Ah, perhaps it's the opposite of what we think it is.
(it's clear now that hayame has caught voryn in a scientific mood, for his curiosity weighs heavily against his disdain for her. beyond race, like it was with the dwemer, his desire to satisfy intellectual curiosity makes him gesture toward her with far more enthusiasm.)
Would you do me a service? Would you go into that door there and then try to return, but as you do, back through.
(he's acting like any of this is going to happen, which it will not,)
no subject
Hayame had been prepared to stand there stiffly, her bow at the ready, her lip twitching upward in the corner and her sensitive nose upturned as if she’d caught a whiff of something foul… and not kill this man, no matter how much she might want to. (Would it be displaced rage, to a certain extent, that she was unable yet to inflict on her torturer? Yes. Would it still satisfy, even more than the slight dishonor it might cause? Yes.) She has resolved to do that. If he had just taken her offer to part her and not fight, she would have seen him off and then chosen whatever door he had not to exit and hopefully be far from him.
But he doesn’t.]
Service?
[The phrasing is… unfortunate.]
You force me to listen to the sordid tale of how you gladly spread your legs and beg for the demon that used poison to steal me off the streets of Springstar and force some sort of Zenith spy magic into my godsdamned eye socket and now you wish me to do you a service?
[She might not have meant to say that, and in the heat of the moment she might not even notice yet that she had told that to someone she despises so much. Now, it comes out as vicious justification for her rage and offense, for why she uses her bow to point at the nearest door.]
You go through and walk ass backwards through it, if that is what your genius is telling you to do! Just go, before I lose my temper.
[Maybe he is right. Maybe there is a pattern. But in the time it takes him to experiment and find it… she will claim the Oracle.
Except at that moment, the door she is pointing at…]
no subject
Seemingly of its own volition, of course, as if waves have lapped it open, for what enters first through the door is water, the rush of a wave, before a man stepped through — sopping and wet, hair astray, and a normally concealed scar had the barest hints of streaked makeup, patching like fingers over a dark, sinuous, corrupted thing. Sick, is the only way to describe it, corrupted. The eye it surrounds doesn't help, black like pitch and pinpricked with angry orange, the man who stepped through the door was probably recognizable to most on the other side of the door.
But having come from what could only be called a...submersive experience (which Silco is always normal about) stepping into a room with these two is. ]
Perfect.
[ He sneers. This is not the sort of confident phrase, for someone who is ready to go to battle. No, this is tired. Annoyed. Of all the things to stumble into, this was not the one he wanted.
He vanished from sight, before they could say anything.
Silco was really not interested in a two-on-one encounter with these two. (Get wrecked, buddy) ]
no subject
this is why bringing sebastian into the fold is so important, to commit himself to a contract to steal power from the zenith faction. he is therefore silent immediately after her outburst until his mouth opens, intending to take a new approach with her.)
Hayame, I had not known— (what voryn is about to admit to is lost, however, when silco appears.
the suddenness of it leaves an almost comical space for confusion, lips still parted even as his eyes are cast away from hayame in a glance to a face that stuns him into greeting him:) Oh. Silco.
(the result is a flurry of activity.
silco disappears, but not to meri harmonized so totally with their cause. two tier-threes face down one man whose ability won't help him escape them, and this becomes obvious the moment fire flares in his palm. what is only a small candlelight becomes a giant ball that floats above his fingers, and his footing is that of a warrior when the spell is completed and thrown at him without delay.)
Molad!
(instinctively minding hayame when his long blade is finally drawn out to a point to issue a direct challenge, voryn cries war.) How unlucky for you that you should find us here together. You had bold words about the death of our worlds the last we spoke, and I recall promising you I'd bring you yours!
Show us your conviction, coward, or die on your knees!
1/3
Someone she recognizes immediately. Ironically, not from ever having the "pleasure" of meeting the other man in person. Theirs has been fights over Communion, clashes over attempts at diplomacy over what would become of Manon's shard. What she knows about him primarily comes from others, and the information shared within her faction. But even before that, a god of war had told her what bound this man to the demon she has sworn to revenge herself against. Then, she had not cared much for the knowledge. What did it matter to her that Silco was the "master" of that thing masquerading as a man? She was not the dishonorable sort of woman who would strike at someone to wound someone else.
- But this is the Harbinger Oracle's trial. This is a labyrinth in which they have all but been told implicitly to show the effigy their drive, their determination, what lengths they will go to in order to be the one and only who claims it. She has attacked every single Zenite she has encountered so far already. So if this one, in particular, would make her especially, vindictively satisfied, well... ? That is just a coincidental bonus.
The arrow she'd had notched on the string before she encountered Voryn, the one she had wanted to punch through his shameless throat, flies through the air into the space that Silco had occupied mere seconds after he vanished into invisibility. The next arrow is ready and lacking only the exact target just as quickly, and though she opens her mouth-]
no subject
no subject
Her next arrow will fly there.]
no subject
Just like Birdie Martinson had, just like he could if he made the effort, and so Silco started pulling tricks out. He just needed time. Time to fight, time to escape, or perhaps call Sebastian. Though he remembered Voryn at his little dinner party. Perhaps Sebastian would not rush, were he to know the subject.
No, he needed to hold steadfast, and use what he'd been given, use all of his power, because he would not be denied what he wanted. To rip, maim, and tear these worlds down by their foundations. To make sure that none of them existed, that the multitude of worlds paid for the crime of not having his daughter. He didn't care that he was up against Hayame and Voryn. He would destroy them, he would deal with them as he would.
He does not address them, because these were both warriors, whereas Silco was a mere street kid who'd been so starved he'd learned numbers and words so he could stop working in the mines. He's nothing to them, but he has focus, and he has wit, and a willingness to do what was necessary.
While Voryn's fireball would have struck true, it splashes ineffectively against the wall behind him, because he was quick to step through his summoned "door", somewhere further and deeper into the room. Thankfully, there is no fire to his clothes, but he has no sneak attacks, and his invisibility drops in favor of focusing on the battle.
He's easy to find, but he's further in, away from them, as if he intends to run. (He doesn't) He won't go down like waste beneath their feet. ]
no subject
a brief and gentle knock of his mind to her mind through communion is all the warning hayame gets before she's awash in magic. it has a sealike sensation, salt water drying on the skin, almost itchy until it recedes into one distinct, instinctually understood feeling: protection.
immediately after, voryn, refusing to give chase to the man so many warned him not to take lightly—including ocelot, though perhaps through one human falling victim to another—weaves another fire spell.
it begins to coat his hands, and when cast, it's not thrown but made visible by a spark in the air ten feet from his location. no more than a heartbeat following its appearance, it expands rapidly outward in a cloud, causing a cruel bloom of fire. the heat will reach hayame and do nothing, her strong resistance against voryn's elemental attack nullifying most of what might have been damaging.)
You're normally so verbose in Communion, human. I am shocked to hear nothing now! You can't be dead already!
(WERE IT SO EASY TO KILL A COCKROACH)
no subject
As he is not attacking them, it doesn't dismiss his invisibility, but while it is invisible, it reflects the light of the fire when it hits the shield. Like a flash in a pan, a burning bright light that births and dies in a second, and Silco wants to utter a curse.
He doesn't get the opportunity, but it also means he's had. At least his location. ]
You're so confident when you have a partner.
[ It's through communion now, though Silco is moving, he can only go so far in a few steps. ]
I don't think I've ever seen you brave enough to fight alone.
no subject
Disgusting. And she should be ashamed for taking it.
But it was required. The heat of the summoned flames crackles in the air and warms her skin and coat, the blast of hot hair sending her fetlock-length mane and tail whipping behind her in inky black streams, but her flesh does not burn and her hair does not singe. Someone else's might, though... if they do not run or use another method. Though she only has one eye... No, she doesn't, does she? As the flames spread, as she waits in the wake of Voryn's declaration for the faint sound of feet on stone or a break in the invisibility cloaking their enemy, Hayame reaches up to rip the patch from over what the leather's presence would imply ought to be a empty eyesocket or an ugly scar.
Instead, it is a perfect left eye... with a sickly green iris that does not match at all with the stormy grey of her right. And with those two eyes, she sees the subtle movement of flame within more flame colliding with something solid, the light reflecting strangely off a shield. A shield spell that she knows well, because she has begrudgingly learned it too. One she knows from experience... only lasts for the one attack. The tar-like ooze of the man's voice in communion brushes through her head, even if it does not seem to be for her, but regardless... she calls out, lips curled, fangs bared.]
Go thank your pet demon for dragging me off my high horse, gaki!
[She still remembers every poisonous word she'd been forced to listen to during the debate over Manon's shard. If it had only been that... she might have very little personal hate for the man called Silco, just a bit beyond her default hatred for all Zenites who fought to rob her of the change to redeem herself and return to her world. But Silco... He is the "master" supposedly holding the leash of the beast that had humiliated her, that had drugged her and bound her and shoved a bit into her mouth like an unbroken horse to cut into her skull and connect the shriveled remnants of her optic nerve to a cursed organ she never asked for. The beast that forced her to remember that no matter how loyal she was, how strong, how devoted... that maybe she was just a woman, just a mortal... just a dumb half-animal only valued until she asked to be.]
Now I can hunt you down in the mud where you're so fond of crawling!
[It is personal now. And with the benefit of the gift Sebastian Michaelis had kindly bestowed upon her to make them "even"... Her sharp aim is even truer, when a thick arrow over a meter long and tipped with sharp iron goes screaming through the air towards where she estimates Silco must be, loosed from the heavy, powerful bow of a jinba bred and trained solely to pursue... then capture or kill.
But she has no intention of capturing Silco.]
i'm sorry he needs a moment
his broken mind fills silco's head with bells. they toll, growing in volume until their communion bond is severed.
sharp eyes tempered by over four hundred years of steady combat seek out the flash of fire against silco's shield as immediately as hayame's. she cries out insults and voryn can't help agreeing with them. exposed to the strange eye she possesses not unlike her target's, her suffering has been made clear to him. and he thinks, for the first time, that she deserves this kill for herself. he shall not intervene unless it is to drive the rat into a corner for her. that can only be his greatest attempt to bridge their gap. perhaps they can work together after all.
but something hayame declares sticks with voryn. it wedges itself somewhere between his ribs and makes his shoulders shake. silco has a pet demon. and that pet demon is sebsatian.
sebastian.
laughter peals, and in seconds, voryn practically shrieks his joy—of course! all this time it was silco!
he had initially believed sebastian to be unfettered by a master, which is what had been initially implied by the demon. but recently, it's been told to him that his leash was held by someone. to think that he is only learning now that this human and his foul soul contracted with a being he had no hope of understanding. is he aware of the price? is he aware of how little time his shard has left?
it's almost a pity they intend to destroy it. it'd mean robbing sebsatian of a meal. though this isn't a powerful enough reason to stopper him in battle, it is enough of one to make him hug himself at the waist and wind himself in his joy as hayame's arrow strikes where silco ought to be.)
Hah-hah-hah, if he doesn't die by our hand, it would be a shame... but he will die in a worse way, I promise you! (voryn spits, swinging his sword into a playful spin.) You would contract with a daedra for so paltry a reason? I can't believe it... I can't believe it!
Die a fool, Bahr'zuil!
oh my god voryn i love you
He sees her arrow loosed, sees where he should be, and his steps are quick though uncoordinated, the kicking up dust as she loosed it toward him, it doesn't meet his mark only because he can see where she is aiming, where he is supposed to be, his feet move faster than his mind does, adjusting to his double vision.
Though his undeath is what saves him, his reaction and movement are faster than what he could do on his own. It's his saving grace, though Voryn's taunting, cajoling words...
He sounds mad, laughing as he does. He is fortunate that their line of communion is broken, because mad laughter always makes his mind circle around the reason he did any of this, and Voryn's words break through that thought, and incite him. Anger him beyond anything. Does he find his reasoning paltry? Does he even know his reason? Could he even comprehend the reason Silco did anything?
Was it for the power for revenge? Oh, yes. Always. It had started with revenge on his enemies. Vander, Caitlyn, and Vi — they had all been here — and he'd been choked and murdered in the street when Sebastian came to him. Was it so surprising that he wanted them to suffer, wanted them kept from his daughter? Was it so shocking that he wanted them to wither and crumple, find that there was no hope for any of them? That their beloved Piltover — yes, he foolishly included Vander and Vi in that — would be returned to them? Was that petty? Paltry? Silco knew he was powerless compared to those here. Look at Voryn with his great magics and works, Hayame with her arrows. And here he was moving too fast to get hit, standing against them, like he was an equal threat, and that was not his own power. It never could have been. Silco was a man of books and numbers, but he had Always been willing to grasp it when it was offered.
Voryn enraged him. To call his reasoning paltry, when he so desperately wanted to return something as foolish as a dead "moon and star" to his world. He could have him, easily, and he threw that option to the mud, because of... what? Disbelief? He mocked him with that disbelief, as they all did, questioning whether the shards were real, when he could touch Jinx's and know that it was her. Ever out of reach of communion, but Silco knew it, even so.
He moves without thinking, his feet silent and quick on the stone as he moves. He could not close the eye that had attuned to the eye — of course, it would project onto that eye's vision — but he was laser focused, his anger spiking, boiling over. He bowls into Voryn, pushing him onto the ground with a violent one-handed shove. He materializes from his invisibility at that moment, but he does not stop. His foot lashes out with a kick to his side before he's on top of him, his knife dropped elsewhere, he shoves him to the ground with one hand, eyes wild, and crazed. His lips peeled back in a grimace, his hissed words were nearly a shout. ]
You know nothing about my reasons! [ From his peeled-back lips, there is a hint of fangs. Silco is clearly not just human anymore. ] Don't you dare to mock them, I will slay you where you stand —
[ He is wide open, so blinded by rage, and fury. ]
everyone here is very okay
She does not realize that Silco is able to dodge her arrow because he can see where she is aiming. She assumes in the split second that she has that she had miscalculated. That though she had trained with two eyes again that perhaps thinking it improved her sight had been a placebo after all, a trick of the mind glad to be a mockery of whole again, but in reality... Had she grown so used to aiming with only the one? She closes the sickly green orb with a snarl, turning to see-
Voryn's insane reaction, the laughter, the shriek, the words, and the twirl, all of it... What the hell was wrong with him? Hayame had not known, that he had not known, and so she is stunned for a split second, her arrow wavering where it seeks the invisible path their enemy follows, relying on faint sound of boot and breath. Taunting twas one thing, but this was a battlefield, they had to keep their wits, not lose them?
She wonders if bahr'zuil is worse than n'wah.
And in that instant, Silco's invisibility is shed, he springs, and instead of taking advantage and attempting to plunge that knife of his into her main heart or into Voryn's face to actually take one of them out properly and even his odds he shoves the other man, kicking and scrabbling atop of him with his single fucking hand as he rages like a madman (two, there's fucking two of them- ?), but Hayame-
Hayame does not care (even as she rages that he seemed to judge her in that moment so inconsequential as to leave himself wide open). Let him be mad. There were easy ways to dispose of a man who had descended to no better than a rabid dog.]
Seize him, Dagoth!
[She will trust him with that much, that he can do it, whether he runs the man through with the blade he'd been holding, used some sort of magic, or just grabbed him with his godsdamned hands. Whatever needed to be done to prevent him from fleeing like a coward, from turning back invisible to slip away as she finishes whipping back around in a whirl of inky black mane and tail, flashing hooves, and the glint of her arrowhead. One leveled right at Silco's head as he rants about mockery, about reasons in a screaming rage... while her voice is ice cold.]
Your selfish reasons die with you, gaki.
[She doesn't wait a second longer before she releases the arrow.
And as she does... she accidentally reopens that unwanted left eye, just in time for Silco to catch a glimpse of his own incoming death.]
no subject
the general in him criticizes the man for dropping his knife rather than taking the opportunity to run him through with it. if silco were capable of pinning him effectively, this position could have spelled his death. while there are many counters to being on his back, voryn leaves silco there on top of him, because it will give them an advantage when it comes to killing him.
the diplomat in him criticizes the man for declaring his intent to slay him when their goals are so similar. voryn has held to meridian ideals for the sole fact that his world—and only his world—must be restored for him to carry out his vengeance. caring not for any other, he would form quiet alliances if it served him. but this time has passed, and this creature of nihilism that silco has let himself become seems mindlessly hateful. these are the easiest monsters to destroy.
taking hold of silco's lapels, voryn risks impalement, too, by pulling the man closer. until his mouth rests against his ear, speaking intimately there to ensure he's heard even through spat vitriol. ) I pity you, Silco... You are stubborn, but your desire for vengeance is weaker than my own. Because of this, you shall never succeed against me.
But I wish you better luck on your next attempt.
( voryn drops back on hayame's last word, cheek having briefly pressed to silco's in a mockery of an embrace. his vice-like hold on silco's clothing is used to shove his upper body higher so that they may look each other in the eye as the arrow strikes, uncaring that whatever comes through the man's head will be spilled upon him. )
no subject
He doesn't notice Hayame's words, he barely hears Voryn's over the pounding rush of furious blood in his head. An escalation that leaves his fingers trembling in white fury, his eye — that eye — looking down at Voryn with hatred.
It burns. His fury. Weaker he calls it. Weaker than his? Does he even know what those took from him? Did anyone? They mocked him, called him weak, derided him, because they had worlds that would be kind to them, or purposes to go back to. Silco wants to wring Voryn's neck, and show him what a mockery it was to call him weak that his vengeance was nothing compared to his. Some Moon-and-star nonsense, a lover that would inevitably betray him, perhaps? A trusted friend? They were nothing. None of them were.
Couldn't they see that? Of course they couldn't, so enamored with the worlds that they came from, the promise of what they could bring, that they refused to see the rot that lurked within each and every one. What made them so worthy? What value would they bring to this universe? What point could any of them have? He wants to rant, and rage, and tell them that they are being foolish, but they would not listen, would they? Why would they care, so swollen with dreams of returning to their perfect worlds, their perfect homes. For Silco could not imagine a life, in which he would bring back a world with nothing in it, and wasn't that what they all had? These worlds, with "good lives" were all that could motivate some of them, for they wanted to preserve their position. They had to. Nobody who came from a place like he did would be caught dead reviving it. Would they? He had said this, he had shared it, what these rotted worlds were like, where their pollution would seep into the very bones of their worlds, no matter what they did. But would they listen to him? Would any of them?
Oh no, none of them would. He was the lost one, the derided one. The one that they mocked and looked at as a creature to be destroyed. He was supposedly weak to all of them. Nothing. He made an enemy of all of them, and they still didn't respect him. He would lay waste to their very city if given the chance, and they still treated him like a piece of refuse. Something to kick to the side on their way toward whatever end goal they had in mind. Even the Harbinger did not want him to succeed, for they had placed him in this obstacle in particular. Given him the very two that were so ready to slay him. To murder him. To crush his shard, and then —
Voryn lets go, a mockery of unwanted intimacy, as Silco's dual-vision overtakes him, and his head is lifted in perfect time. He can see it coming, he can't move, he can't dodge, could he —
But what about — What will happen to —
Oh no — ]
No, Ji ——
[ Hissed out as it is, his tone shaking, he almost says a word he refuses to share, the shock of his realization that there was something more important than anything hidden away, and nobody knew where it was, not even —
Hayame's arrow pierced his skull, sending flying bits of bone, hair, and gore everywhere as it flew through the other end. Likely, some of it found its way onto Voryn, and everything for Silco, all of that rage and fear, it went black. Silent. All of that strife, all of that fury, and it was like taking a storm, and plucking it out of the sky. Like all of it had suddenly ceased and was silent.
A black, oil-slick shard clinked to the ground, sharp and daggerlike, and it teetered at the edge of a gap in the floor, before it started to tip over, the universe deciding to grant the man a single favor. ]
time-skippy magic
And then her arrow bursts through his head, in one side and out the other.
For all that she has been accused in the past by enemy and ally alike of being cruel, Hayame takes no pleasure or delight in the grotesque sight of what the long, thick arrows designed to be fired from the powerful bow of a jinba can do to bone. She feels proud, yes, the thrill of victory, but it won't be complete until his shard is crushed into just as many pieces as his skull. The blood, the brain matter, she's seen it before, splattered on the snow instead of half onto stone flooring and half onto a temporary ally. What she wants to see is the man's corpse vanish, leaving behind-
His soul, clattering to the ground, skidding, tottering--
She thinks that she shouts. Something like "grab it", something to Voryn, she knows they both scramble for it, but in that precious fucking second... the inky black thing is gone. Or no, just "gone" would have been a blessing. Instead, it lands in the possession of someone who should have just as much reason as any of them to kill the man called Silco. Someone who claimed to be a Meridian, but who refused to shatter that shard, refused to return it to them so that it might be done, no matter what they said-
And just that comically, tragically, ironically, pathetically... Silco's shard is safe, he lives, and they-]
Son of a bitch!
[The side of Hayame's fist slams into the stone walls of the labyrinth, rage burning in her eyes. Both of them, even the sickly green one that had been forced into her skull. One that, unbeknownst to her...
Temporarily had no one watching through it for the first time since it had been implanted.]