THE SOOT OF IGNORANCE: RISING ACTION

[beleos]

BETWEEN UNCONTROLLED ESCALATION & UNENDING PASSIVITY

The moonlit city of Highstorm has always been a tranquil location.

Its people, passionate about the steady leadership of Zenith's leader — Lady Yima — begin their movements slowly and deliberately. Following the lead of their most trusted Shard-Bearers and the word of their Lady, activity in Highstorm begins to increase in the vicinity of Yima's Manor. The Court, the town square outside of it, becomes a hotbed of bustle and voices. Personnel and attendants rush around with documentation, stirring others to action. A select few figures gather the full force of their long-standing houses, calling on family bonds and their own castellans to assist the efforts that build over the course of a few days.

For the tranquility of Highstorm is only ever punctuated by its decisiveness, its faith that their path is the correct one — and now, they will prove it.

In a trickle-down effort, from the most loyal Zenites to the newest, the news unfolds for them: Amos Burton has been tasked by Lady Yima herself to turn the tides back in Zenith's favor. He is to end the life of the 34th Tribune, Cyrus Marcius Germanus Kokkinos, alongside the fortune who have found their way into Zenith's graces. In the earliest hours of the invasion, the figure of Yima herself steps out onto the balcony of her quarters — the highest point of the Manor — with her robes soft around her body and hands extended to her people. Her silence is punctuated by glowing feelings of pride that flow through the hearts and minds of every last sworn Zenite, bolstering their resolve and encouraging them with the cool, ever-flowing might of the people who look to Zenith's Shard-Bearers for their victory.

She sees them off with unspoken sentiments of love, confidence in them — the whispered promises that she knows they are ready to see the war through. And perhaps none of them will know that it is the last time they see her.

For in the sun-dappled sprawl of Springstar, their target awaits them.

The bustle of the city has always been without reservation; the bright and airy attitudes of militant citizenry look on with confidence and celebratory warmth as their Shard-Bearers have brought them to a marginal advancement over their enemies. While Tribune Cyrus's popularity has waned, there are alternative avenues they have begun to explore — the figure of Agapitos Voreen has become deeply popular, with savvy statements, an easy confidence and a willingness to deny Zenith any room to breathe, he is a shoe-in for future Tribune, whenever the next elections are held.

Which is why, in between one moment and the next, the city is rocked by the efforts of their opposition. Zenite-aligned Shard-Bearers and the small house armies of Yima's most loyal core families fill the streets with chaotic distractions, ranging from duels with the Helios Legionnaire to direct attacks on civilians. ( Where does your character draw the line, if they care to? Will it matter in the long run, do they believe? ) Appearing from several Cornerstones hidden within the city's confines from missions long past, tracking the movements of Legionnaires and Shard-Bearers alike from the placement of listening gems and tracking spells, even rising from the bowels of Kowloon to trap the city in a pincer movement — Highstorm goes on the offensive.

Springstar puts up a valiant resistance in return; however, within twenty-four hours, Zenite Shard-Bearers will have hunted down, cornered and slain the Tribune. In that moment, Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers will feel a splitting pain: the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Zenith's swell. The last trickle of emotion from Cyrus for them is a gentle warmth, fondness and forgiveness and the purity of his confidence in them. He believes in them, he always has, and he prays and hopes for their victory even though he will not be around to see it become reality, now.

His death is announced the following day by his assistant Cetina, the deer-morph girl choking back angry tears as she — with a furious and tearful General Ayo Zaman and the somber, mournful figure of Hieropoios Natalia at her side — lambasts Highstorm for the act of aggression, attempts to rouse the city and Meridian's hope, and pledges that she will not let her best friend's murderers escape her vengeance.

Hours after Cetina's message, in the far corner of Highstorm — following the people's celebrations and rejoicing in their strike, the delight in the might of their Shard-Bearers and the renewed passions of their people in pursuit of their victory — a brilliant, golden beam of sunlight pierces the eternal night of the city.

In an instant, the balcony upon which Yima had stood and the rooms beyond it — in fact, the entirety of the Manor, is engulfed in fire and light. The Manor falls, crumbling in upon itself as debris cascades into the living quarters of Shard-bearers and partially topples into the Court beyond. While the Tree of Life, the Reflecting Pools and many businesses around the Court escape extensive damage, the Manor itself is in shambles. And in the wake, many Zenite Shard-Bearers will feel the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Meridian's swell. In the wake of the strike, there is a deep silence within them.

Any attempts to contact Yima are met with the same silence a Shard-Bearer feels when reaching out to another who has left the world entirely. And with that, both sides are left to pick up the pieces and weigh the consequences of their actions.

ADDITIONAL MATTERS

During ( and in the wake of both assaults ), there is plenty for any Unharmonized Shard-Bearers and more moderate Meris/Zenites to partake in. Damage has been wrought to both cities at differing times, and there is a degree of life lost no matter the best efforts of those who value innocents over the price enacted by acts of war.

In Springstar, the citizenry has been ravaged by attacks stemming from the depths of Kowloon: as monsters in the form of both individuals with unusual appetites (cannibals and vampires, for example) and heavily-drugged, superpowered addicts have been finding their way into the city, slaughtering civilians indiscreetly, picking fights with the Legionary, and engaging in general criminal mischief and violence. Following Zenith's assault and subsequent assassination, the city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Zenith-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Zenith! ). After the day of the attack, the attacks drop off significantly, but do not vanish entirely, for now that some have gotten a taste, it will take time for Yura to reign them in once more.

The people of the city turn to their Shard-Bearers in the wake of their Tribune's murder; even though his popularity had waned, it isn't as though his death doesn't affect them! Deeply concerned and frightened for their future, they demand information about what will be done to protect the city from another assault like this? Some civilians will turn to the church, or perhaps community leaders, but it seems very few turn to the legionary, after they were so focused on the attacks that they missed the forest for the trees. Their trust in their military leaders is waning, and they’re looking for answer. Some community leaders have tried to soften the hurt and anger of Springstar’s people, but they look toward those whom were not a part of the current establishment to answers.

In Highstorm, Yima's Manor lays in shambles, but the rest of the city is unharmed. Shard-Bearers who were living in the Manor will find that their living quarters suffered from the collapse and subsequent fires, but any precious items/belongings they had in their rooms can be recovered after sifting through the rubble. One of Yima’s most trusted, Florence, seems to be taking the reigns of control, and while there are still pockets of the manor that remain on the outskirts of the building itself, she encourages any Zenites who had not moved out to move on quickly, since what is left should be used by any newcomers who need shelter, and not those whom have had the opportunity to make bonds, and have allies that they can rely on.

The main issue now plaguing Zenites is the sudden, overwhelming crowd that begins to gather in the Court, demanding information from them about Yima's safety — they are frantic, and rightfully concerned about further assaults of that incendiary degree from Meridian. The city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Meridian! ). The Manor itself is almost entirely destroyed, with only a shell of the outskirts left, and though those who are left are already trying to sift through the rubble, they are often overcome by their sorrow, and it is not uncommon in the wake of Meridian’s destruction to find some of Yima’s most loyal in distress, for the loss of their leader.

A LIGHTHOUSE AGAINST THE ENCROACHING STORM

A few months ago, all current Shard-Bearers experienced a mass dreaming event, full of teeming darkness and a pervasive sense of terror. Following the death of Cyrus and the "presumed loss" of Yima, all Shard-Bearers will receive yet another dream.

This one is a simple, direct thing: rife with a haunting sense of being watched, observed as if from the reeds and brush by a hunter. Whatever your power level, however skilled you are and confident you are in your place, your decisions, your heart will quake before the severe impression of something prowling at your heels. Just out of sight, but never out of mind. Every Shard-Bearer's shard will wrench free of their body upon waking, falling from their physical form as if to flee this sensation of something waiting, patient, for the right moment to pounce.

Echoing in the back of their mind, a wordless, shapeless promise lingers: Forward, or back. Back, or forward. Dart and weave, flit and flutter, scamper and scurry. We are here, now. In the back of every mind, what was in the process of coming before is — it is here, now. Looming right above, waiting for the outcome, watching for which way the last lives at the end of existence will flee.

Upon awakening from the mass dream-become-nightmare, Shard-bearers will slowly become aware of the exacerbation of previous events that have been persisting since October. These events are no longer subtle, and will impact everyone regardless of faction allegiance, with purposefully targeted strikes:

— Darkness has spread within Springstar. Wherever there is shadow cast by person, object or building, it has deepened, darkened, and grown in size. Walking through any shadowed area or touching a darkened shadow will fill a Shard-bearer who enters that area with feelings of dread, of something lingering just out of sight, of danger prickling along their spine, and entice them to run and flee. If they are not quick enough, an unseen entity savages them — aiming directly for wherever their Shard is hidden and held. They are being hunted.

— Light has spread within Highstorm. Starlight and moonlight seem to sear what they touch, leaving patches of bleached-white scars upon person, object or building. Being touched by the light or coming into contact with a white-scarred entity will fill a Shard-bearer with feelings of malaise, like they should simply lay down and accept what comes next. Suffocating hands waiting to pin them down. Even in the safety of the shadows, the scourging glow of any light reaches for them and rakes across their bodies, seeking the place where their Shard is hidden or held. Ravaging them with hot-and-cold burns. They are being sacrificed.

— Shard-bearers readily become lost in familiar places, as if their homes and bastions of safety and security have become strange ( estranged? ) from their minds. The route to that favorite haunt ( perhaps even their own place of business ) eludes them, and searching for it alone becomes an impossibility. It takes another Shard-bearer, at times, to aid them in breaking free of the mild befuddlement. You're just tired. It's just the strain getting to you.

— Citizens of both Springstar and Highstorm continue to speak about neighbors who have 'suddenly moved away', or the disappearance of a favored shop or cafe. Some mention favorite, useful landmarks vanishing, causing them to forget where they are coming from, or where they are going. When directly asked about this circumstance, they shrug and declare that it happens all the time these days. In fact, there's nothing to really be done about it. And if pressed, the citizenry's eyes go glassy and expressions become confused as they ask who, what, where, and why their Shard-Bearer has begun asking them such strange questions. None seem bothered by this strange occurrence, as if all is well and normal.

— Shard-bearers will begin to see familiar faces in crowds, standing on street corners, peering through their private windows, waving them down at their familiar haunts. People from their own worlds, loved and hated alike rush for them — adoring and hostile alike. Family members and friends who seem to attempt to meet their eyes before the crowd swallows them up; loved ones who should be captured in Shards try to flag them down, calling their names and asking them where have you been? what's going on?; enemies and abusers seem to advance upon them, pushing their way forth hungrily. And then they are gone, but not before leaving behind the impression, the strange sensation that, they are real. Really there. If only for a moment.

OOC & (IMMEDIATE) WORLD CHANGES

The full document for this event can be found here!

So, what does the world look like now that this has all gone down?

The world of Kenos ripples from the effects of our players!

Springstar is (mostly) physically unharmed, though the population has been reduced thanks to the number of murders and criminal mischief that has taken place during the attack. Damage seems constrained to things like broken doors and windows, looted property, and murdered civilians, though the severity is up to how many defend Springstar from the concentrated might of Ryad’s regulars, and a practical army of addicts rising from the depths below the city.

The leadership of Springstar is also shaken, though there are procedures in place for this – if one is particularly studious, they will recall that this is not the first Tribune that has been assassinated, though it is the first in a long while – and the Church and the Legionary have stepped in to maintain the peace while elections begin to be arranged.

Cyrus’s body is interred publically at the Church in Heliopolis for a week after his passing, before his body is immolated during a service, his soul returned to the Tree of Life. Those who attend will feel the light of Meridian fill them, and their Discord may be reduced by one level thanks to the warm hope that fills them, even as they despair at the loss of their leadership. Meridian calls to its most loyal, and asks them to do what they do best, show hope and unending resolve, when things look to be their most hopeless.

Highstorm is another story. The destruction wrought is more property, but the number of people who were within the manor is difficult to count until a week or two after the destruction has been evaluated, and cleanup has begun. The loss of life is not devastating compared to what was leveled upon Springstar, but perhaps the most distressing is that Yima is not present. Florence reassures those in Highstorm with her calming, but firm presence.

With few of Yima’s softer adorations to be found, Florence instead pushes the faithful to muster their will and begin the recovery efforts. After all, they have long proven to have faith in Yima’s guidance, and they should believe in it now when it is difficult. It is not the first time their fortitude has been tested, after all.

Her words fill those in Zenith with a sense of calm resolve, and they may feel their distress and discord from this destruction alleviating slightly. Highstorm’s government works smoothly without Yima, and those who are interested in history will be able to see Florence’s name throughout the annals, as one that would guide Yima’s faithful when the matron was in convalescence, or respite. What Zenith does best, after all, is build something new when faced with destruction. Consider this a primer for your new world, to help bring the faithful back from the brink of their despair.

The unharmonized have a choice, as they so often do. This time, however, the stakes appear even higher than before. The cities are not as welcoming as they once were, and those that have not chosen are beseeched by the civilians of both Highstorm and Springstar. ‘Do you not understand what they’ve taken from us, and what they will in days to come? You cannot let this continue, standing on the sidelines. Imagine the ways in which you could help us,’ they beg, and it feels as though your neutrality will become increasingly inconvenient, as time goes on.

What can we expect next?

As the month of Pelu ( aka March ) dawns, you will begin to feel it. Something tugs at you.

Those who have lived through more than one will feel that anticipatory anxiety rise, as the next oracle is coming. Are you ready to fight to claim it, even when it feels so dark, and even when everything feels different, and harder? Do you look to the stars, and dream of your home? Or do you gaze outward, into nothing, and dream of what you will make from the ashes?

Anticipate the oracle in the coming month of Pelu, and to learn more about those that will step into the voids left by Cyrus and Yima.

And as always!

Questions can be directed here!

Individuals less-inclined to busy themselves with either effort, or looking for a way to gain a foothold/explore the world can report here for exploration attempts. We recommend examining the Kenos Wiki's Locations for ideas, if you don't know where to start. Or! Ask someone in the Discord Server for a recommendation, we have long-time players eager to help.

Lastly, remember that Cyrus and Yima will be a little occupied this time around, but anyone who might ICly have reason to contact them regarding the brewing troubles can do so here!

CODING

Comments

nebula 👾 meridian 👾 exalt

[furibund]

👾 sibling bonds (backdated to beginning of february)

[ Nebula has been on this stupid island for far longer than she ever wanted or hoped to be. Not that she had a choice in the matter, but the longer it stays the more it becomes more normal. It's not home it will never be home. Not when there is a whole city waiting for her and the reminders here are constant. She keeps Drax's knives in her boots, as he would have, and sometimes she carries Quill's walkman. Rarely, at least the knives she can say are weapons the music player is just... Sentimental. ]

[ Sentimental is the word of this particular day given it's also the day she's received a gift - a gift she one was already given, in the paper mache Christmas present. Nebula had meant to take it "home" with little fanfare before anyone can see but sometimes - as luck would have it - you get dragged into other things. ]

[ "Other things," being passing by a restaurant that's passingly familiar. You don't forget the strange animal - otter? - statue sitting out front. You certainly would remember the small group of other otters, in matching dark uniforms and with weapons chittering away. She'd tucked the item under her arm and watched, curious and wary for a few minutes until they begin to act.

This is your chance to A) Watch Mr. Tibbs get defended (while trying to protect a very delicate present) or B) Jump in and help??? Or something else?

Or it could be C) when the Otters scurry off - not for the last time - she spots you and glares. It's as furious a look as it is embarrassment as she demands: ]

Do you know what that was all about?

[ small note: This is for the Mr. Tibbs side quest stuff. A little more light-hearted! Inform her about the blight and the furry little friend or take on some otters for a bit of silliness. Slipping this in because it coincides with her thought process for the rest! ]

👾 sunlight

[ This outcome was not unexpected. ]

[ This is war. ]

[ Nebula has known battles all of her life. Her body is made from a myriad of parts, most gifted to her after she lost another one. She knows fighting, cruelty, and killing like the back of her hand. To say she knows war is a different thing entirely - there can be no war if you crush the opposition before they have a hand to play. That is what her father taught her. What she remembers as a scared little girl, not once on her own before, standing in his presence as her home had burned around her.]

[ It was what he left of every planet they visited - not quick enough, supplied enough, strong enough to fight back. ]

[ And it is what she feels now about Springstar. It is how she sees the Zenites - who encouraged an onslaught for the victory of killing a single man. They are not much better. Not for the first time, she thinks of her father and his belief a perfect, better universe meant the destruction of millions for those left behind. Not for the first time, does she think that a perfect world that means such a callous disregard for anything else is incorrect. Beyond incorrect, but there are no words to state her fury.]

[ Fury she has learned, however, is not enough. It can drive, but it is not a tool. It is a poison she let lead her for too long - enveloped and carassed her in the way a parent never had. She cannot let anger win now, even if she feels no remorse for any action she took in Set's gun. She had meant what she said: Yima needed to die and anyone who raised arms for her knew the consequences. It is why she does not falter at Set's message, does not wait for another call. ]

[ Their leaders are "dead". Their people are not. She speaks first to Set before she gathers herself.]

[ A. COMMUNION - MERIDIAN Nebula notoriously does not like communion. She has been to known to shut down attempts and briskly cut them off. For once, she reaches out first. A gesture like a firm knock, an expression unblinkingly ahead. Steel resolve met with cool snow, far more gentle than she would lead others to believe. Here, her voice lacks any metallic tinge: ]

They will be scrambled. That does not mean there will not be another assault.

[ Because there will be. She knows this is just the beginning, it is fact. It is a fact they must all now know. For a short time, however, there is a reprieve. She does not think they will attack so soon. ]

They have shown they lack conviction. They are headless.

Now would be our time to invade.

[ She says it simply, as one might order a drink. But this war cannot be won by crushing them - or perhaps it could be if there are no Zenites left to fight for the oracle??? But. She pauses and tries again: ]

This is not our home, but it is theirs. They are like us, they have no part in this war. They can only live and they have been slaughtered.

Why? [ She phrases it as an "it doesn't matter," statement. Not because it doesn't, but because the act has happened. Because it has happened and there is no turning back from it. The only thing to do - ]

Rescue efforts need to start immediately. A collection of the names of people who are missing or lost and a search party. [ Rattled off, almost like she's had experience. Almost as if she'd had five years of it. ] If you are injured or do not have strength, you can help with that.

If you are capable of movement, buildings need repair and rubble cleared.

[ It almost sounds like an order with that firmness there. But there's another pause - a moment of quiet and there is something there that's intangible, warm: ]

If you must mourn, do it quickly. The living are still in need of help. Protecting all of the worlds means theirs, too.

If you cannot do that, don't get in the way.

[ ... And with that - with saying more than she possible has to anyone especially in communion - the door is shut with that too easy slam. ]


[ B. A GUARDIAN Unsurprisingly, Nebula does not rest after her message. She doesn't hang around to see if anyone answers - even if she does check in on occasion - and after a long period of fighting she is back on the streets. She has changed, into a uniform she will say is more for durability than comfort and nothing more - She does not care to think further. ]

[ She tries to ignore how the shadows stretch further than they have before. She tries to ignore the way she sees glimpses from the corner of her eyes — stops when she sees Gamora. Briefly. Past Gamora. And swallows hard when she passes a corner and sees that same restaurant. It's surprisingly undamaged and the otter guards out front, a more haunting figure today. Everyone deserves a second chance, Groot says in her head. She wants to dismiss it - because that means the Zenites do, too. ]

[ It's as good a location as any and Nebula sets up shop - gathers locals looking for lost loved ones. And while her instinct is to say they'll probably be dead, she shows surprising gentleness in taking names, last seen locations, and descriptions. Promises word will come to them one way or another (and it's a promise she makes to herself, as a guardian). If a Meridian Shardbearer passes by she'll glare-guilt them into coming over... Especially towards the end of the day, when she's all out of pleasantries and people's out and starting to snap at people. ]

[ If she's not there, she can be found taking charge of picking up rubble, clearing broken glass, and patching windows. Some areas of the Districts know her - during her down time she has generally helped in construction efforts. It would seem, rebuilding efforts are no different to her. Why would they be? She was doing this on Knowhere for months. ]

[ Occasionally, another addict raddled being from Kowloon rises up when she's nearby. It takes no time for her to abandon her task and get between them or would be victims - or on occasion attempts at making her the victim. Feel free to help fight, protect, or prevent something! ]

[ Throughout it all, Nebula holds fast to what she said. She does not rest, even though after a few days she probably should. Even when she's made the tenth announcement that day someone was found dead. There's barely relief when she finds someone who was missing, even if there's a flickering. A ghost of a smile. Like this is what it should be about. She doesn't stop and if she tires - there's another day for that.

Right now is a time for action. ]

OOC / WILDCARD

[ Sorry these aren't much! Please feel free to use any elements for a starter or hit me up if you want something more/personalized. Nebula will pretty much be heading up trying to unify a search/rescue response for missing people in Springstar. While I didn't super include fighting prompts, I am tagging out to people to do so! If you want something, please feel free to reach out to me in any way comfortable. As always feel free to make up your own prompt or hit me up for further plotting in PM or hopewillbloom!]

Guardian

[sheezit]

[ Hey, no need for glare-guilting, okay? He was already coming on his way to help!

The truth is, he doesn't disagree with her approach; Shez, too, has been relentless in pitching in wherever he can, almost to the point of stretching himself too thin. It even makes think of home, of a king too hellbent on shouldering everyone's burdens and hardly ever accepting any help, his sense of duty and guilt so overwhelming that it could crush him, leaving his closest social circle scrambling in the aftershock. For someone who had so often scolded his stubborn friend and physically dragged him away from work, Shez may as well have started acting similarly in his absence...

But, he's not about to let all that Faerghan influence take over, not fully, anyway. He still knows his own limits, still allows himself moments to breathe when his body begs for rest, still finds the strength to move forward without pushing too far. And from what he's been seeing of this one particular busybody, well, he's not sure he can say the same about her, so: ]

Yo. [ He greets with a wave, though it lacks in his usual enthusiastic energy. ] I'm on relieve duty today. Just fill me in and go get some rest.

[ Does he expect Nebula to comply without protest? Absolutely not. But that's not one of the many ways he's been under Faerghan influence; his stubbornness has very much always been his own. ]

[furibund]

[ The nice thing - and it's really not a nice thing - about this body is it doesn't tire easily. She can't permanently go without rest or food and she absolutely needs to breathe, but she survived in space with little food and oxygen without weakening for three weeks...

This is probably fine. At least, she'd say she feels fine. It'd be easier if there was some computer system to work with, but she can memorize - computerize? - the information more quickly than others. A long list of names, locations, and descriptions that she doesn't need to look up from even as a recruited assistant writes something down while she does her glare off at Shez. ]

[ He approaches and for a moment it looks like he might relax before he says that. She stiffens instead. ]

I do not need rest. [ Affronted, snapped, stubbornly. Even if it wasn't true. Her mouth set as she adds: ] The people have more need and not enough hands.

[ Because they don't trust the military. Because people are mourning. Because there's a thousand other things for people to do, probably. And she feels the pressure of the badge on her chest, pressing slightly into the similarly shaped shard beneath it: ]

Besides, this is my duty. I know more about these kind of missions than anyone.

[ "Should," she wants to add but doesn't, though the tone of it hangs in the air - severe. It's half a fact, at least here, that when you spend years going from planet-to-planet with calls for help looking for lost loved ones... The numbers rack up. ]

sibling bonds, B

[gravings]

[ A commotion catches Gray's eye as she makes her way through the streets of Springstar. She quickly recognizes Nebula, who... is fighting a group of otters? Around the frozen Mr. Tibbs, she notices with a small amount of dismay. Truthfully, she'd forgotten about him... It's a sad and undignified fate to be put on display as a koi pond statue, but he's caused so much trouble for Kenos and the Shard-Bearers that she can't say it's undeserved.

In any case, she feels obligated to help Nebula. It feels like overkill getting Add out for this, so she sneaks up and grabs a couple otters by the scruffs of their necks, one in each hand. ]

Calm down, please!

[ She's got hostages... not. ]

grayyyy

[furibund]

[ She'd feel more mollified about being sneaked up on by a young girl grabbing up otters if not for the fact said Otters are causing a ruckus... and one of them is trying to stab at her legs. Which is a problem when you're deftly of the "damn Rocket would be mad if I hurt an animal," mentality these days and yet — ]

[ — and yet she charges up and shoots one stunning blast at at the otter who was trying to stab her in the calf. It yelps and falls over backwards while the otters... don't scatter but take a step back. ]

Back off.

[ Growled as she lowers arm-now-turned-blaster to her side and glares at them and then over at Gray: ] Have we always had a damned rodent infestation?

[gravings]

[ Gray wields the scruffed otters before her, who continue to kick and flail to no avail. She's using them as shields, which does in fact mean that they're now her hostages. ]

N-Not that I know. And I'm not sure why they'd be concerned with Mr. Tibbs...

[ One of the otters tries to be gutsy by leaping for an attack while Gray is talking. She automatically swings at the incoming otter with one of the otters in hand, resulting in a double squeak of pain. ]

Sorry!

[furibund]

"Mister Tibbs"?

[ A question, a demand, or a statement - hard to say. She glances at the statue - it has a name? Why does it have a name, some monument? ]

[ She turns her head in time to see Gray hitting otters with otters and normally the sight might be so ridiculous she'd laugh but at least for the moment she snarls and loads up another charge. ]

They look the same.

[ Some otter god gone wrong???? Another otter moves forward, she blasts again. ]

What do you want with a statue?

It's not a statue!

[ The stabby one says and she flicks her attention to it while it's moving to raise its ridiculously sized sword - there's no way it'd do proper damage to her, probably, she thinks. ] What?

[ Gray gets a look! Like do you think these rodents are insane, too? ]

[gravings]

[ They're really doing the Marvel thing where they have a conversation while they're fighting... It isn't Gray's usual way, but if Nebula is asking, then there's no one but Gray to answer. She shoots an apologetic look at Nebula as if it's her fault that Kenos is the way it is. ]

They're right. Mr. Tibbs was a wizard's familiar. It's a long story, but... he ended up causing a lot of trouble for us about a year ago. Twice, actually. The second time, nearly all of Kenos was destroyed. When it was all over, he showed up like this... He's afflicted with something called Blight.

[ Over the course of this exposition, Gray causes some more involuntary otter-on-otter violence. When one of her otter shields goes limp -- one can only hope it's just unconscious -- she hurls it into an attacker that's trying to catch Nebula from behind. ]

[furibund]

[ Nebula grunted. ]

[ You know fighting assassin otters isn't difficult to have a conversation during. What is difficult is the fact you're trying not to hurt these stupid things. So when one of the ones with a mallet - more sensible at stone-ssasinations than a sword is rushes forward she growls at an : oh no you don't. ]

[ The arm that was turned into a small cannon changes form once more, this time to a sword as she rotates and uses leverage to yank the hammer out of hand while kicking the tiny creature in the stomach. It goes skittering across the pavement as she grabs mallet from the air. ]


[ Meanwhile she was listening to Gray's explanation - because unlike Gray, as a Marvel she is well-practiced in the art of ass-kicking and conversation - and she casts her a glance as the Otter who might as well be a 'leader' pipes up: ]

He's giving the rest of us a bad name! My kids won't even —

I don't care.

[ She snaps it out sharply. Nods at Gray in thanks - most likely for the last otter attempt, do they never give up? they never do - and she scowls: ]


What was the reason?

[gravings]

[ Gray watches Nebula's arm transform with interest. It's like having a mini-Add on her arm... or given her overall tech-infused state, maybe she's capable of being many mini-Adds in one.

Observing Nebula nearly makes Gray miss the next incoming otter, who valiantly attempts to use the glare of sun(s) to his advantage as he leaps at Gray. She simply sidesteps him, and then pitches her second otter at him so that they rocket into some nearby bushes. ]

He wanted to restore his master's island, which was itself completely frozen with Blight. We Shard-Bearers helped with that, but as the island was coming back to life, Mr. Tibbs also tried to kill us.

[ Why?? She still isn't quite sure. It was quite the startling display of ingratitude. ]

He was the last unfrozen being on his island before we arrived. I'm not sure how long he was alone like that... but it may have made him unstable. I can't imagine him being that malicious when he was first made a familiar.

[furibund]

[ Nebula glances over as Gray gets a strike in otter bowling. Then grumbles something along the lines of 'don't you ever ever flarking give up?' as one of the other otters picks up a hammer and she moves to grab it before it can charge - a surprisingly easy task though it wallops her in the knee hard enough even she has to let it go. ]

Stupid —

[ She hisses out swears that any good citizen across certain parts of the galaxy would cover their ears for. Tries to ignore how Gray's story rings in some way true to her - after all. For a long time. It had just felt like it was only her and Rocket. She knew it all too well, the kind of way those feelings go. ]

What did you do that made him want to kill you?

[ Because there had to be something, right? ]

[gravings]

I'm sorry, I don't know the particulars. He may have been trying to use us as resources... or something like that. Our memories at the time could be used as a temporary cure for the Blight. We'd use them to unfreeze little bits of the island.

[ Hell if she knows how all that worked. She's usually the one asking questions about inexplicable magic phenomena, not answering them.

She looks up as another commotion seems to approach from down the road. A closer look shows that it's law enforcement (legionnaires??) coming in at a charge, called over by the very alarmed proprietor of the restaurant they're fighting in front of. ]

[furibund]

[ Nebula keeps the otter held by the back of its fur, yanking away it's weapon with a scowl. It flails like an angry cat, hissing and trying to grab at her hand; Too bad for it it's the metal one now back in its original form. ]

So you don't know. None of you know.

[ She repeats it, irritated. Maybe because something in her twists more personally than she'd like to admit, but she hardly has time to linger on it. The otter yelps and it turns her attention first to it and then back again. ]

[ She snarls, a sound more feral than not, and yeets it away from her. ]

Get out of here. If I see you back here again, if they don't get you I will.

[ Nervous chittering that turns into an animalistic cry - some rendition of 'fall back' - maybe and Nebula turns her attention to Gray and their oncoming company. ]

Think we should run?

[ Biting amusement. ]

[gravings]

... Maybe. Though I think they'll be able to find us by our descriptions.

[ Gray isn't completely opposed to avoiding the law; living in the world of magecraft in a way necessitated it. But how many short hooded gray-haired girls and tallish blue bald women are there in Springstar, truly? And they're basically celebrities after the flood of articles the last Oracle spawned... ]

If you want to go, I can stay. I don't mind.

[ She can help file a proper report and everything!! She really doesn't expect to get into any kind of trouble, despite being involved in the scuffle. As a perpetually harmless-looking girl, she is used to a certain kind of treatment -- that is, for adults to look at her and immediately assume that she's done nothing wrong. It isn't something she would abuse, but it does make her much more willing to cooperate. ]

GUARDIAN.

[dreamflowers]

[To say that Jade's arrival was ill-timed would be putting it lightly. As if she wasn't already struggling to get her bearings in this new world, the tensions of rising conflict didn't elude her notice, either. But she'd kept her head down, planned not to commit to either side until she had an inkling as to what the fuck was going on.

[And then this shit happens.

[Rather than diving right into the fray without any idea on who was friend or foe, Jade just hid. Could anyone really blame her, though? Whatever the heck was going on between these people, it had nothing to do with her. The best she could do for now was lay low and, should she actually survive this mess, try to make some sense of the pieces left.

[Needless to say, it's some time before she even thinks to come out, her mind drifting until all sense of existence loses its meaning. With limited options on where to run, she'd simply found someplace left relatively intact and ducked for cover long enough for the fighting to stop. But even afterwards, she doesn't move much. Hours pass before she realizes how long she's just been staring up at the underside of a dilapidated desk in what was probably someone's place of residence -- or what was left of it? Even more time passes when she hears what sounds like a cleanup and rescue effort taking place outside.

[Still, Jade doesn't move. If she had fight-or-flight instincts, she's more like a frozen deer at this point. It is. A sight, to be certain, when she is inevitably discovered by one of the aforementioned cleanup efforts. The way she's laying there, one might have mistaken her to be a casualty of whatever war this is, if she weren't breathing slowly. But it's enough to have given one of the locals a shock when they stumble into the broken room (a resident, looter, or helper? she can't be sure), before they run out screaming.

[Ah, well. It's just that kind of day.]

[furibund]

[ Nebula is used to hard, long, and difficult days. Most of her life had been them, though the colors and manners that came with it had differed. These days, it was just as much fighting [for others] as it was sorting out issues she would have dismissed in the past. Not her problem, not her planet. That kind of thing. It's a little different these days and now that her position has firmly rooted in the fact she was a Guardian - for all of the ones not here - it's back to the same old routine. ]

[ Which means screaming civilians can't be ignored even if she wants to. ]

[ She listens to the panicked report and resisted the urge to roll her eyes - shoved the person off on someone else. Then, decidingly telling them it was just a dead body, she shoved her way into the house. It's a small, quaint place in an area of the city where there wasn't much wreckage, so it doesn't take her long to find the room they claimed the person was at. ]

[ Or the person. She grunts and moves to grab the body as one might a sack of potatoes and pauses - ears hearing the sound of accompanying breathing as she scowls. Glares at the body further and then raises to her full height with a turned-down scale: ]

What the hell are you doing? Get out from under there.

[ Pointed, added: ] I'm not picking your sorry ass up.

[dreamflowers]

[Funny thing about disassociating. The world can crash down all around you and you probably wouldn't even notice before it's too late. At least, that's how it was for Jade when she finds that she became fully cognizant of the fact that she's no longer the only person in the room.

[Of course, one could argue that she wasn't alone before. The echoes of familiar faces who were there but also she knew were not continue to linger out the corner of her eye like ghosts from time to time.

[So the sight of someone who not only is absolutely unfamiliar to her but looks like that? It's a strange type of comfort.]

Mm...

[In those initial agonizing seconds, she's simply planking like a rigid piece of lifeless wood. As she gradually starts to remember how to breathe, she just blinks at the strange-looking grumpy woman who had just addressed her. One blink, two blinks.

[Then, she blurts:]

...

You are. Very blue.

[What was more of a thought just comes right out of her mouth in the most mortifyingly blase affectation imaginable, befitting of someone who hadn't spoken to another soul for what was probably a few days. She covers her mouth with a gloved hand and makes a strangled sound.]

Fuck, that was... Sorry.

["Sorry" will probably cut it better when she finally moves her ass.]

[furibund]

[ The other woman doesn't move and for a moment, Nebula thinks something is broken. In her head. She looks in one piece, so maybe she's not all there in that way. She scowls, intent to keep her word and then - ]

[ She scoffs. ]

Really. Hadn't noticed.

[ She remarks with a dry, huff. Jade isn't the first person to comment on her skin color - no doubt, she wouldn't be the last. Nebula raises to her full height, gaze scrutinizing. ]

You're not injured. Get up.

[dreamflowers]

[Something is certainly broken, though not so much so that Jade is unresponsive. Though after her comment, she kinda wishes she was. You know, when you say something so profoundly idiotic that you realize it was stupid, yet you say it anyway?

[No? Yes? Whatever. But she does look contrite enough to mumble yet another "sorry" before attempting to sit upright. However long she had been lying there, it was enough to make her muscles stiff and sore to the point where she feels something pop.

[Hopefully she won't be feeling that later. Knowing her luck, though, that'll be doubtful.]

Is it over... whatever the heck that was?

[It's probably been over, but. Well. That's what happens when your mind checks out of reality for a while. Time seems to lose all meaning.]

[furibund]

[ Nebula isn't known for her patience. She has half the mind to leave the other woman where she lay and if she dies of starvation - well, that's on her. It's only the fact that she is trying to do better, trying to be more empathetic, that she remains folding her arms one atop the other (the metal one always taking the top). ]

[ Her expression serious, mouth bowed into a line. ]

You mean the massacre.

[ Because that's how she sees it; She sees it as Zenith deciding to turn everything into a bloody battle, risking the lives of the people who live there. Of their so called home and new world. Taking them out without knowing them or considering the ramifications. ]

[ She calls it as she knows and sees it because that's what it is, and there's no pretending with her. Not for civilians, not for Shardbearers. ]

The attacks have slowed. What can be accounted for her has been.

[ Nebula scrutinizes the other; Hiding away like some warfearing child. It is not completely unusual - but it makes her useless as a Shardbearer, if that's the case. Because they cannot be hiding away, this place won't let them. ]

Is this where you've been the whole time?

[dreamflowers]

[Massacre. Yeah, that's what one could call it, couldn't it? It's hardly an ethical battle with civs getting dragged into it. Jade had seen her fair share of chaos break out like that in her war-ravaged homeland, and had hoped to put as much distance between herself and war as possible.

[Didn't work out, but hey. There was an attempt.

[As the other woman speaks, Jade gradually forces herself to sit upright into a more comfortable position while she recovers herself. She doesn't move to her feet completely yet, only she stops when she's asked a particular question.]

I dunno, maybe. And before you judge me for it, I literally got here... Shit, a few days ago? Week? So you'll have to forgive me for not jumping into a battle without knowing who is on which side and for what reasons. Plus, I've grown attached to keeping my entrails in.

[Granted, Jade has been doing plenty of judging herself. Even without her magic, she didn't live to her thirties in a country like Nehrim by throwing herself into every sight of injustice that presented itself. Fuck knows she could have, but she had her own skin to look after. This was no different, or so she had reasoned with herself during the long period she had spent in hiding. If it makes her a coward for not divining what cause she's supposed to gun for the second she crawled out of the ground, then so be it.]

[furibund]

[ Nebula steps back to give Jade room, arms folding over her chest. Dark eyes unreadable beneath narrowed brows, mouth downturned. A metal finger taps against the bend at her elbow and she huffs, rolls her eyes. ]

Oh. I'm judging you.

[ Pointed and direct, the drawl there as she adds: ] Not necessarily for not fighting.

[ Hiding away, yes. A week is too long if she's been hiding under this table that entire time. Why? She inclines her head: ]

The owners would like the weirdo out of their house.

[dreamflowers]

[Jade scoffs.]

Okay. I deserve that.

[At least she's self-aware. Though she could probably lend herself a better defense -- it's not like she was in one place for the entire week. The whole situation was rather a blur as to where she went, though. When fight or flight instincts kick in, time and rational thought has a way of taking the backseat.

[But rather than dwelling on it while this woman burns a metaphorical hole in Jade's skull with that look, she lurches forward and climbs to her feet, revealing her considerable height. It'd almost be a wonder what someone this big would be so afraid of that they shrink into hiding during an entire crisis, if not for the fact that her health is...

[Well, it could be improved with a good meal or two. Jade can't actually remember when the last time she ate was, and hunger was a familiar enough sensation that she tends to forget even when her stomach twists and turns. But she's worn out her welcome enough; asking for help was absolutely out of the question.]

Fair enough. I'll get outta your hair. Be like I was never here.

[Probably better that way.]