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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SixthMovement|Sixth Movement]]
| + | #REDIRECT [[ADanceOfAngels]] |
| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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| − | == Haunting ==
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| − | The 22nd of Resplendent Air.
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| − | Spire...
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| − | The link between Whiteshield, a country mostly grounded, and Windia, a country in the clouds.
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| − | And it did show.
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| − | Each and every building on it was at least four stories high. Each and every building on it, even the newer ones, trying to build vertically rather than horizontally, making a place with bridges far up, roads above, and a thousandfold places for the nests for the Windian's distant cousins, the myriad of birds. And of course, many ways for their predators, the myriad of cats, walk.
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| − | Ise knew it. Some pretty big directional gods lived here. Helped the city remain quiet, gloomy, strange as it had always been, in prayer. And something else, of course, the city was afraid of itself.
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| − | Of course, by now, a good third of it was razed, in ruins. A second third had been razed, but among the broken buildings rose bigger buildings of ivory and ice that had not been touched yet, shining ominous as they connected to the others in all-too-familiar, but all-too-alien angles. The remaining thirds scorched by fire, essence, and claws - a destruction that aimed solely at lives. Right now, there were few more civilians alive in Spire than there were people in the army that liberated it.
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| − | Windians and those better off in the Spire tried to help those wounded, dying, those who lost all their possessions and now had to fight for food... and some districts were as of yet untouched by those relief efforts. And within the Palace of Timeless Winters, work as non-stop to check its libraries and underground to understand what had happened...
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| − | Iselsis had her answers about Acelia, and the days went on, the mysteries of Spire all around her, outside, in the city that now seemed so strange...
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| − | Of course, walking was hard in and of itself. So much water, so much rain, making all slippery....
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| − | ... and snow, like today, maing it all pretty... and just as slippery!
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She'd decided to soar. Because she hadn't in so long, not for fun at any rate.
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| − | And so she swooped across the city, barrelling in between the tall buildings, dodging the bridges, and more of that. Every so often she'd kneel down on some building ledge to overlook the goings on, before swooping off again.
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| − | Most people who noticed anything from the quiet sound of her passing probably thought they just saw a really big bat fly by.
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' Acelia watched the flight as she walked over the buildings, over the bridges, trying hard to watch her step.
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| − | Weird place...
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| − | She watched her friend, wondering just what was she doing there.<br>
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| − | Reality just became surreal near Iselsis....
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| − |
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She dives down under the bridge Acelia's standing on, momentarily dissapearing before shooting up in front of the girl, stopping in mid air, before gracefully touching down and standing on the guardrail.
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| − | "It's nice to be able to fly again, just because I want to.", she grins almost giddily.
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| − |
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' "I can see that! You just walked too far sometime. I needed something to call for your attention, you know... was thinking of picking a giant lantern and putting a bit dead bat in front of it. What do you think?" She asks, offering a cigarette, walking past a bridge... "Must be nice to fly, anyway..."
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "Why not just blow a whistle or something? Seems easier than dead bats and lanterns. Less smelly, too.", she flops down onto the railing and lights up, "I could always lift you if you wanna try. I just won't be able to do the acrobatics stuff."
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' "Oh... I would! Please!" She says, then looks at her cigarette... "Hmmm, do I have to stop before we do it?"
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "Uhh, yeah, I don't want to get poked in the eye with a lit cigarette because you're flailing around thinking I'll drop you."
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' "Riiight... so, we wait!" She walks to the edge of one of the buildings and sits down.
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| − | "You know, you were happy right there. I rarely see you like that..."
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "I don't have a lot to be happy about right now.", she shrugs, wandering over to sit next to Acelia, puffing contentedly on her cigarette.
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' "Why not? You are alive, got a sister who can kick the crap out of everyone, and made a big speech!"
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| − | "Yeah, I was hearing it behind the door. So kill me."
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She narrows her eyes at Acelia "It's not nice to go around spying on people. Yes I'm aware of the irony of the statement, yes that was different."
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| − | "My sister is still tainted by the void and the underworld. Even if she is nicer now, which remains to be seen, she's still under the Lover's control. Then there's the whole, being a traitor thing of course, and the fact I probably won't live long enough to see that situation resolve."
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' "You worry too much. You did manage to get back from being cooked well-done, didn't you? People on the Boil weren't so lucky. You're a Chosen, Ise. You guys got nine lives. And so what she is tainted by the Underworld? You are also tainted by, um... whatever it was. Silence? I'll say 'void' sounds more threate..." She stops, then, pointing to the street... "Hey... can you see that?"
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| − | And a little ways away, someone walks groggilly on the street, out of a large building, collapsing on the street...
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "I'm not just fighting demons on the outside, Acelia."
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| − | "I'm a Windian. We're known for our accute eyesight, of course I see."
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| − | She squints her eyes, trying to see if it's just some drunkard, or something more important than that.
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' He is... on the ground.. but he might not be drunk. He is rolling around on the ground, he might be drunk enough to be having hallucinations, might be having convulsions or... a number of other things...
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| − | '''Iselsis: '''"Well, let's go check on him then, shall we?", and without waiting for a response she hooks an arm under Acelia's shoulders and drags both of them off the ledge, gracefully gliding down to the street below near the man and putting Acelia back down before checking up close what's going on.
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' "Wooooo!" She says, in surprise and awe, the gliding enough to get her wide-eyed...
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| − | "Hey..."
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| − | "You made me drop my cigarette, bitch!" She says in the most playful of tones. "So, what's with that? Druggie?"
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She takes a step forward and holds out an arm sideways in front of Acelia, gesturing for her to stay back. Convulsions weren't always a symptom of supernatural meddling in things that should not be meddled in. There was disease, too.
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| − | But really, in the conditions they are in lately, the former was actually far more plausible than the latter.
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| − | Her eyes scan the surrounding for the obvious signs. She didn't have a checklist in her head, but after doing her job for so long, there were always the telltale signs.
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| − | She edges closer, but not too close, crouches down to try and see the man's face, eyes, look for any inordinate sweating which wouldn't come with diseased convulsions, and simply checking around him for those little details that all but the most careful spirits leave behind.
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| − |
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' There are tell-tales all around her...
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| − | The buildings are broken. She sees the signs of struggle. The signs of blood. Dried blood on the buildings, broken glass on the windows... violent, violent deaths. She can see where the light flickers in the shadows. The marks of lost souls... of echoes... haunts trying to spread their agony...
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| − | But she was so busy looking at those, she did not see the ghostly hand, flickering from shadow and ectoplasmic light, coming from the man's mouth to her neck...
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She glares as the thing catches her unawares, but only for a second. She's come too far to let some second rate spirit make her look bad in front of Acelia!
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| − | And so she fishes into her pocket, bringing out a talisman which she hadn't used until now. Not too odd, since it was just a minor magical thing, not intended for the really powerful entities. A mix of metal and salt in the form of a dull silver and black Ankh. She stabs this warding item into the ghostly hand while twisting her body away simultaneously and manages to wrench free, skipping back a good few feet.
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| − | "Acelia, back!"
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| − | '''Narrator: '''The Ghost leaps out, a misshapen monster born out of a killing, wanting only to kill... hissing...
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| − | She manages to hold the spirit... thankfully, it was a weak one. Its essence just as great as the weakest of the Exalted...But she cannot see the thing behind her! A shambling possessed corpse, ghostly corps flickering in light and darkness in its wounds... almost as if it was a live person... but many triangles or losanges of shadow where inserted in its static image, and begun to flicker in light... it jumps on Ise...
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| − | ... and touches a will-o'-wips that appeared on her back, sending it back, fried, to a nearby wall...
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| − |
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| − | * Acelia stands back, watching Ise hold the thing off... "Go, Ise! You kept him away! Oh, look O -- eeeeeek!" She calls, as the ball of lighting explodes, sending the corpse away.... "That was..."
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' ''Well this is going well... and what the hell was that? Nevermind. Doesn't matter. ''
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| − | The first thing she does is focus her essence, and the darkness of the streets and walls starts oozing away from her, starting at her feet, like a ripple passing over the stone, cleansing them. And then the multitude of prayer strips, fixing themselves all around herself, the spirit and Acelia. On walls, on overhangs, open windows, rubble and the streets.
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| − | Thank the Sun for instant wards. They would keep any more surprise visitors out, and her captive - now weakened - audiance in.
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| − | "Stay inside the perimeter of the ward, they won't be able to get in."
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| − | She glares disdainfully at the ghost before her, walking towards it a few steps, the amulet held out in front of her, "Or... ''out''."
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' Acelia does so... "What is going on, Ise? Just what is going on?"
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| − | "God, I need a cigarette."
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| − | And Acelia sees them... many of those strange creatures, flickering light and shadow, beating outside of the wards.. all coming from the school, and wailing.... Acelia trembles, walking up to Iselsis... "Ise, what did you get me in..."
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "I have a pretty good idea. But let's make sure, shall we?"
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| − | She fishes out one of her guns, and tosses it towards Acelia, then fishes the other one out to hold in her free hand.
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| − | "You wanted to be like me right? If you see anything, aim by looking over the barrel, hold your arm straight out, and support your wrist from the kickback with your free hand. When you see your target over the sight, gently squeeze the trigger, ''once''."
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| − | Then she looses several shots. She doesn't even need to activate her spirit sight to see these sloppy ghost, making themselves known so readily. Two shots, with a loose wrist, barely even bothering to aim, and two of them go down before she redirects her attention on the caught ghost.
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| − | Her arm holding the amulet lashes out twice, cutting with warding power through the air and biting the ghost almost like a supernatural whip would.
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| − | "Your origin spirit! Speak!"
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' The ghosts burn as they fall, crying out in pain...
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| − | ... as Acelia points her gun to the ghost, trembling, trembling quite a bit. "I... it... it is just pull...ing... pulling the trigger? Really? But the kickback... if I hit you..." She stutters, nervous... as the thing in front of Iselsis hisses...
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| − | "Gggggoooo.... aaawwwaaayyy...."
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| − | "Not very talkative, is it?" Comes a voice from above... the same man dressed in clouds of storm clouds from the meeting of the Circle... Dorian. She heard of him a bit, child of some Windian VIP, a Baron... he was one of Faina's bosses, this Baron.
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "Acelia, just point it away from me before you shoot and all will be well."
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| − | She glances upwards and her eyes narrow.
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| − | "It'll talk, I've got the situation well under control. What brings you here?"
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| − | She refocusses on the spirit. "Now now now, that just won't do. You attack me unprovoked, possess a poor man, and then tell me to leave? Tsk tsk tsk.", she tuts at it.
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| − | She lashes out again, this time augmenting the 'attack' meant more to inflict pain than to destroy.
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| − | "Origin. Now."
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| − | * "I... I will try..." Acelia speaks, pointing to the ones outside, nervous....<br><br>While Dorian lets lighting fall out of his hand, his large storm-grey wingspan spreading as he jumps down, using the lighting as a pole, almost... "I was walking around and saw you in trouble, miss de Windia. And we have to help one another, right? And No words of thanks for saving you? Your manners..." He says, landing close to her... as the spirit screams.<br><br>It screams, the blood of its living vessel falling to the street, looking up at Iselsis... and it begins to speak.... "Uuusss beee... killed... in sccchooll.... tooorrtturrred.... murrrrddeerred... they ccchaanntt... and ccchaaanntt... as they mmrrurrrdddeerr usss... we sssuufffeerr... wwweee needdd sspprrreadd iiitt... wwweee ssssuufffeerr... wwweee jjjussttt wwwaanntted... bbbeee fffreee... rrreeebbbeeellss... wweee fiffiiggght... wwee llooossee... wwweee bbeee ttttoorrrtttuurrred... iiinnn sccchool... wwheeerrreee weee hiiddd.."<br><br>Its voice is pain. It is suffering. It is bright spirits turned to pain and despair...<bR><br>Needing to spread its pain away...
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' Acelia tries to lift the gun... "Damnit, Ise... are you strong or ''what''? This thing weighs a ''ton''. I don't even wanna know what your cloak weighs like... just pointing the trigger, right?" She points to one of the ghosts within the Haunt... gritting her teeth... and pulls the trigger.
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| − | Firedust smoke fills her nostrils and her face, as she falls on her behind, but a little explosion of fire within shows that she ''did'' hit something! "Owwwie..."
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' Dorian watches and can't help but to stifle a grin, walking to Acelia and trying to help her up her feet... "... that is... sad. You said you were an exorcist, Lady Izabella. You know a way to place those poor souls out of their misery? This is..." He shakes his head, lighting stopping its crackling as he watches the souls outside the ward... "... sad."
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "Welcome to the business of exorcism, sir Dorian. Bleak, sad, heartwrenching, and oh so necesary. We need to find the heart of their corruption inside the building, when I deal with that their souls will be saved and sent to Lethe like they were meant to. Then I can purify the building."
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| − | She walks over to Acelia, kneels down and takes the gun from her, then pats her on the head. "Well done. You just stay here, where it's safe. This won't take long."
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| − | She straightens up, flips out the cylinder on the weapon, and puts a replacement bullet into it, before glancing at Dorian.
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| − | "Are you ready? Please don't hesitate to attack them, sad as it is, at this point we're only helping to end their torment."
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' "Well, burning poor lost souls is not my thing... but what one doesn't do for the good of his subjects, hmmm? If they have to be fried to get better, let's do it!" He nods, walking towards the building, his gauntlets charging with eletrical energy, the faint scent of ozone(or what passes for it on Creation) filling the air. "You know, and to think you were such a sweet little girl.... alright, a little bit on the hellion side, but... you got really... ''professional'', Lady de Windia."
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' She gets up, trying to spin the gun in her hand and missing it, making it land somewhat close to her, and crouching down to pick it up, having it taken from her. "Aww... can't I go? One gun each! Didn't you see it? I hit him! And nex time I won't fall!"
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "This is a bit beyond you, Acelia. But I'll try and get you one of your own, then you can take lessons from me."
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| − | "Just ''stay here'' for now."
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| − | She glances at Dorian as she puts the second gun away, now one gun in hand and the ankh in the other to keep the ghosts at bay if she could. Shooting spirits that didn't deserve it was never her thing; there were more peaceful ways to send them on and in this case she'd try it if she could.
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| − | "You knew me when I was young?", she quirks an eyebrow, obviously she definately couldn't remember ''him. ''
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| − | Meanwhile she moves for the building, turning around a lot to keep an eye on her surroundings, and hoping the Ankh will be enough to make it not come to a real fight before she gets her job done.
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| − | '''Acelia: ''' "Awwwww...." She pouts, then sits in the center of the ward, picking a knife for her own protection...
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| − | And kicking the corpse that had grabbed Ise before.
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' Dorian walks to the door of the building... still flickering between light and shadow like crazy. As if someone was opening and closing the lid over a lantern non-stop.... but this close, Ise could see them inside. And so could Dorian. "Yes, in the galas. You are a few years younger than me, so I don't fault you for not remembering me. I think I was a bit too harsh on the younger kids at that age too, you kept asking me to play but I was too busy playing grown-up." He gives a long, nearly distracted sigh. "Good times. You were already very pretty then, though."
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| − | He stops at the door, and the edge of the ward. "So, we go in on three?"
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She puts the ankh away and pulls her other gun out. Once they went inside this would get serious and she'd have no time for smaller tricks, she had to destroy the root of the corruption as fast as she possibly could.
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| − | "Less red though.", she says casually. "I think neither of us realized then how much we'd miss our childhoods and innocence."
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| − | She nods then.
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| − | "On three."
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| − | Meanwhile her astute windian eyes peer inside, and a breeze picks up around the two, where it was dead before, swirling into the building, through its rooms and passages, and back out again, speaking to Ise's instincts and showing her what was there.
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' She looks within, and sees the five shades, not real ghosts, but pieces of the souls imprisioned by the emotional backlash of the haunt.... all visible to the naked eye, hissing at them, two of them striking at the wards.
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| − | "One..." Dorian picks a cigarette.
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| − | "Two..." He lights the cigarette in the lighting at his fingerips, by snapping in front of them.
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| − | "'''''Three! '''''" The lighting flies.
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She moves her left foot back and bends her knees a little, bracing her foot against the earth, and her wings flex.
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| − | And then she's off, leaving poor Dorian to deal with the dustcloud she kicks up with the sheer speed she travels at. In the blink of an eye she's at the other end of the room firing both her repeaters at four different targets, once each.
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' "Everything seemed simpler on our childhoods, didn't it?" He says, appearing so calm as his large smoky wings flutter and he crashes in, an outstretched hand trailing lighting on the leftover ghost, burning it to cinders... "I knew there was a deWindia on the covert operations, stole enough looks at my father's files to know... but thought the years would be kin... ''look out''!" He cries, throwing a blast of lighting to the side of Iselsis' face, burning the edge of her hat, the eletricity getting a jolt of a shiver through her, and she can hear a ghost burning behind her....
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| − | "You missed that one!"
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "''Hey''!", she shouts rather angrily, taking her hat off and inspecting the damage, "Mind the hat, okay! It has sentimental value to me..."
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| − | And having inspected it and brushing some charred bits off, resolving to get someone to patch it up later, she puts it back on and glances around.
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| − | "Two de Windias, actually.", she says then.
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' "Sorry, sorry!" He puts his hands in front of himself, half-expecting her to shoot him, with that tone. "Geez, second time I save you today and you just give me that? Living in the shadows must sure be tough, lady Izabella." He walks around, letting his anima light some shadows... "Hmmm, it's clear here. And, who's the other one?"
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She scratches the back of her head, a bit embaressed now about lashing out like that. "Sorry... I just don't have a whole lot to be sentimental about to begin with, yanno?"
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| − | She starts walking around, her suspicions telling her that if there's a way down to a lower floor, that's probably the best way to go. That's always how these things went after all, as a rule.
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| − | "That's Acelia. I saved her from a gang of rapist thugs in the Boil, and could hardly just toss her back out to the wolves. Since then she's kind of started idolizing me, I guess."
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| − | She shrugs a little "Sun knows why."
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' He looks out, then shrugs. "Oh, her." as if he had already forgotten her. "I was talking about the other de Windia, actually. Is it Dylan? Viktoryia? Different from you, they did not disappear... had no idea they were doing 'the work' behid the scenes. Though I guess that's the whole point?"
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| − | Iselsis sees the marks of it... the umbilical corpus, and where it leads, the strands of dream and suffering that kept those soul-pieces working. The trail leads deeper within the school, not underground, but straight foward...
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "This way.", she motions, and starts going down the halls of the school, following the trail to the heart of the infestation. She of course leaves Dorian's question unanswered.
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| − | "And you? How did you get wrapped up in this? And what do you think of the current state of affairs?", she obviously meant that because of allying with Selina, she, Valencia, the soldiers, and Dorian as well could very well have become persona non grata back in their home country.
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| − | And of course there was the corruption Valencia and Selina had both spoken of.
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' He walks into the thing Haunt, through the corridors of the school... passing through empty classrooms, light still flickering, "... what a headache." and more immaterial, harmless vestiges of souls screaming in pain all around them... if Iselsis had not seen the like before, it would be... quite an unsettling sight. As it is for her companion. "... monsters..."
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| − | "Anyways... me? Well, I got into the army because my favorite use of my Exalted station was to hit people with lighting. Figured I could do it there without causing a faux pas." He nods, and Ise can see he would giggle to himself, if he was not in the current situation. "Daddy dearest decided to keep out of this, probably figuring Valencia would weaken her forces to the point of uselessness, die, or screw herself in this war. Daddy's spiritual big brother and all-around boss, mr. Durant - if you have been out of politics, that's the man who got everything your family owned - thought the same, token gesture to the Pale Angel nonwithstanding."
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| − | "So, here I was, seeing blaze and glory and undead smiting on the front lines, and my family being careful and turning tail. Why am I here? So my grandchildren can see I am a hero, so Tierney becomes a hero's name again, and so our house's icon is revered and honored over the corpses of burning undead." He says as he burns two actually harmful souls on their way before they can even get close. "And actually, all this treason stuff... I'm not there with you. We are heroes, Izabella. You will see." He pats her shoulder. "You will see!"
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "Only if we show them that we're right, and they're wrong.", she says flatly, "And until then we've already been judged by the corrupt nobles who would rather cower in fear in our beautiful city of Windia, plotting to kill the only ones who will stand between them and the crushing tsunami of undead that's about to descend on them, and wash their sins away, along with our country."
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| − | She shakes her head ruefully.
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| − | "Damn fools."
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| − | '''Narrator: ''' Iselsis can see the lines going... and sees where the heart of the suffering lies. Past the great doors at the end of their corridor, where a school gymnasium used to be.
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She thumbs at the door, her voice lowering, half expecting an ambush waiting on the other side of the doors.
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| − | | |
| − | "It's through there. You'll have to cover me while I deal with the root, it'll probably be swarming in there."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' "Maybe they want to kill you because you think that of them? Bureaucrats are nessessary so our kind can shine, Iselsis. Idiots, but not evil." His wings flutter a bit. "Damned enclosed corridors... how can they live in this claustrophobic places? Anyway... as soon as we win they'll greet us with open arms and a parade. Heroes and all! ... well, me, at least. Or are you going to stop being a cover operator? It doesn't seem to be on your blood to be subtle." He winks.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I can do that. Just a warning, I run out of energy for those quick..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "They want to kill me because I decided to be a hero, because I stopped the dead from crushing our country in Blue Wind, and because I suddenly appeared to be a lot more powerful and a lot less easy to keep under their thumb. And they couldn't let a de Windia like that just roam free, they sent me on a fool's errand against my sister so at least one of the problems would solve itself. Now I'm a traitor, so they still win."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She stops outside the door.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "On three?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' He smiles, the scent of ozone filling the air... "On three."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "One."He takes a step back from the door.<br>
| |
| − | "Remember, wait for me. You are faster than me, and I need to lay cover fire first.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Two."<br>
| |
| − | "As soon as I do, they are all yours'."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "'''Three'''!"He shouts! His boot strikes the ground, filling with eletrical charge... and it comes heavy on the door! And then... it happens. His kick on the door, so strong. But on the moment it touches it... the eletrical charge runs into it, a blinding jolt! At the moment it touches, the door darkens, burnt, the charge runs to the joints, breaking them... all in a single blink, and then the door is sent flying, as if by an explosion, through the gym... and Iselsis sees.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The echoes. Residues of suffering. It is few people, but many iterations of the same few people, covered in razored wires, in blood, the same blood that stains the walls, dry. Plasmic projections of all those tortured, broken and ripped open, filling the room, dozens of them... their wailing, their cries, their suffering, palpable, a miasma on the room.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And the door, hitting the center of it all... like a tree growing out of the ground, made of the coalesced suffering, translucent and colored like pink, soft innards. A tree ending in an eye... and eye that watches them, as the door crashes on it, breaking in half. And within the eye... a creature.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' She heard of the thing. Not a living thing... but an undead parasite. A spiritual being that survives on suffering, a Calabim. They are very, very, rare. And it is there, feeding on their suffering, nurturing a growing Shadowland...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' Dorian closes his storm-colored wings around him.... and on each feather, glows a little lighting bug. She feels the power building within him.... so much power. All of his essence, channelled, held... nurturing each of the bugs... until his wings opened, and the bugs flew away, one for each ghost, a swarm of thunder taking the air at the speed of light He opens his wings with the roar of his anima, encompassing all around them, blowing up the ceiling, sending the hair on Iselsis' body up due to the lighting... she had seen Dragons use their raw power before. There was no limit to how much they could.... only their own essence. And Dorian used it all, leaving his essence dry in the buzzing of his swarm, in the thunder that shakes the room, taking all the ghosts back, pushing them to defend, filling the room with the deafening thunder, the blinding light, the confusing smoke!
| |
| − | | |
| − | "'''Now, Ise! '''"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Ghosts: ''' It comes for them all. A few ghosts feel it is too stretched-out and do not defend... and their lack of defense is enough to get them fried on the spot, turned into cinders. Most of them give way, moving back, opening a court for Iselsis... in the middle of smoke and thunder, only one, at the back, closest to the Calabim, is untouched....
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' Only a split second after she would've been fried along with the ghost Iselsis ''blasts'' past Dorian, the biting winds once again rising up, her horned dragon of wind roaring overhead as she blasts into the room, displacing dust and debris as she goes. And from her spring dozens of golden prayer strips, propelled by the wind they affix themselves all over the room even as she moves into the open field and comes to an abrupt stop.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She just performed a shortcut cleansing of the room. Not as potent as the old fashioned but slow mortal way, but a lot faster, weakening everything that was anathema to the living world within it's reach.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And she doesn't stop there, the repeaters flick into her hands and she aims at the eye, firing. Once. Twice. Three times, four times.
| |
| − | | |
| − | All in the span of a few seconds.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Ghosts: ''' The three ghosts that Dorian had missed are hurt, slashed by the silent winds, pieces of their plasm dripping down... as her bullets strike the eye, setting it afire, making the Calabim burn, burn and fall to the ground in agony... the ghosts feel this agony, and three of them jump on Iselsis, screeching, the hooks and wires on their flesh now turning into their weapons....
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' And she keeps standing there, in the middle of the threat buzzing around her. She doesn't cease fire for a second, making it look so easy to wield the special plasma repeater artifacts. Anyone who'd used them before would know different though; Acelia and Gennadi, to fight as she did, as accurately as she did with the heavy repeaters, the nonstop kickback of the heavy artifacts, and the moving of the muzzles with every shot.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She makes it look so easy.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Four more shots hurtle towards the Calabim, though these are different, Dorian can tell. They don't just punch holes in it and set it ablaze, they eat away at the creature, dissolving it's essence patterns into nothingness.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The dragon coiled around her roars at the beast as the shots fly, threatening to tear it apart as the bullets do, while the winds rip a small crater into the floor around her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She had to kill this thing. ''Fast. Right now. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' The Calabim screams.
| |
| − | | |
| − | A scream that goes through many planes, many ways to see reality... crashing the miasma, crashing everything... as Iselsis' anima devours all of it. Bringing silence. Silence that cuts through all of the ghoss... all of it... until all there is is....
| |
| − | | |
| − | ... Silence.
| |
| − | | |
| − | All of the ghosts gone, and they are left on an empty room, surrounded by burn marks, torture implements, bodies, and dried blood....
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' ''Clap, clap clap''
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Air Aspect noble claps, walking into the room, stopping the cheering to wipe the sweat off his brow...
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Now, that was a good one, exorcist. You live up to the name..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She fishes into her coat and produces her prayer beads. She wastes no time, mumbling her prayers for the dead, the tormented, the lost heroic souls that perished here.
| |
| − | | |
| − | They deserved Lethe, not the cold embrace of the void, to be remade again, to see better days, brighter days.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Everyone deserved that.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Thumb flicks prayer beads to keep count of how many she's aided on their journey as she turns to Dorian.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "They didn't deserve this.", the steel in her voice covering up how conflicted she feels about all the things she's seen since leaving Windia. All the death and corruption.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Enough to drive any sane man insane.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Nobody deserves this."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' As she comes, praying for the corpses there... the ones on the walls, chained... she hears, she feels, on two of them. A slow, slow breath. The weakest of pulses. Flickerings of warmth. Just on the edge of it... but they are alive!
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' "No." He says as he hangs his head, watching her say the prayers for them... "Nobody does."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She snaps to attention and puts the things away, she points at the one nearest Dorian "Get them down, they're still alive! If we get them to Ryshy we can still save two of them!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | And she takes her advice, taking one of her repeaters in hand by the muzzle she goes over to the other one still alive, and infusing the weapon with her exalted strength strikes the chains to make the link break.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' As she strikes the chain with the pistols, they break into splinters, and the poor sufferer - a boy of blonde hair... once. Now something dirty, darkened, ragged as his clothes, and his malnourished body... as Dorian rushes to the other, a dragon-blooded girl with wings, only flesh over bones, just like the boy, her wings pretty much tortured into uselessness....
| |
| − | | |
| − | Dorian takes her in hand, "How fast can you fly?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She picks the boy up, she wasn't that strong, but she was strong enough to carry him for sure.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Faster than you could dream, try to keep up Dorian."
| |
| − | | |
| − | And she's off, sailing through the roof, boy in hands, towards Ryshy's room. On her way out she flies by Acelia, yelling at her to meet them back at the building they were staying in.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Of course if Dorian wasn't quite that fast, she'd keep pace so he could follow her.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' They go through the glass ceiling, breaking it in so many splinters.... as Dorian fights to pick up, and Iselsis simply rockets foward, with the speed of a thousand devils. But Dorian tries, it can be said this much - but not even his feather-light weight due to the gifts of Mela prevent him from getting tired and breathy from trying to keep pace with even Iselsis' slowed-down speed...
| |
| − | | |
| − | And soon they come to the clinic, the White Litlies on the opening hall waiting for the wounded....
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' And she touches down on the ground and strides inside. Good thing she wasn't nearly out of breath, because what she did next would probably be impossible for poor winded Dorian at this point.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And what she does is... bellow from the top of her lungs!
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We need a medic, '''right fucking now! '''"
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' The two White Lilies at the opening hall rush to the beds, sending spiritual signs into the building - into the system of creeping plants that filled every room in the building, whose luminescence, controlled by the white wood elementals, told the doctors where to be, and why.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And no sooner than they do so, Fiona strides into the entrance hall, chains tingling, the dark green of her cape almost dramatically covering her as she moves so fast... "Iselsis? Dorian? What is going on?!?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Ryshassa is in the clinic, as she often is these days, garbed in a purple kimono embroidered with crimson roses. Her hair is tied in several braids, each one bound with a band of crimson silk petals that give the impression that roses bloom from the tips.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The healer is tending to another patient, one of those affected by the fungal vines Cael and Cloud had discovered the day before. He is one of the last, and is all but ready to be transferred away to a room to rest in.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Well," she turns to her aides, smiling, "it looks like we don't have much work left to --"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Iselsis's demand grasps her attention none-too-subtly, and she breaks off midsentence, already striding up to the front of the room. Ryshassa takes one look at the victims -- at their obvious, almost palpable state of tortured despair -- and says sharply, "Bring them here," gesturing to the closest unoccupied beds.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Even before Iselsis and Dorian are relieved of their burdens, she already begins the process of diagnosing their ills, letting Essence intuit what her mere senses cannot.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' After the boy has been taken off her hands, she glances at Fiona.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "There was a shadowland festering in a place where the Bishop's lot had tortured them, feeding off their agony... I destroyed the root of it and the wards will hold til the end of the day, when I can go back and do a proper cleansing. These two though..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She shakes her head.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Still alive after all that. Makes you wonder if it might not have been better for them not to live..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' "Poor things..." She says as they rush into one of the rooms, taking one of them, the boy, with the help of a White Lily, placing him in one of the beds, just as Dorian does the same.... and the sight before Ryshassa is not a pretty one, at all. Both of them are God-Blooded - it shows why they survived for so long. They are skeletical, mere sheets of flesh over bones, and lord knows when was the last time they have eaten. They have been tortured, most of their bodies filled with scars, the girl's eyes, wings and one of her legs pretty much destroyed beyond recognition. The boy's tendons are pretty much gone, as is his tongue, his hands crushed until his fingers looked something like a gnarled tree. Their hair is darkened by blood and dirt, the girl's hair cut out and burnt in places.... if it wasn't for the thing keeping them alive as it fed on their misery, they would be dead already... and little is keeping them alive as it is...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' Ise follows them in silently. She doesn't really say much, but her fists are clenched and there's murder in her eyes as she watched them treat the two.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Ryshassa frowns at that sentiment. The death of a patient is something she definitely would not accept in her midst, so long as she has even the chance of easing their pain. She gazes down at each patient in turn, her face a mask of concentration, her heart silently awash in grief. Indeed they have suffered -- suffered more than any being deserves to be condemned to.
| |
| − | | |
| − | But the source of their pain is not what she concentrates on now. It is whether their lives can still be salvaged, whether they can function and still feel any joy in life after what has been done to them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She tries first what she knows best. Physically, they must be stabilized, and normal medical means will not do. She gives Fiona a glance, though by now she knows what to expect, knows what happens when Ryshassa chooses to embrace the pain of another.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And so she does, drawing in to her seemingly frail figure the fresher wounds, the immediately dangerous ones, the bruises and cuts that quickly fade into newly healed skin. Taking both of the victims' wounds in quick succession is itself extremely tiring, and after a few grueling seconds, Ryshassa breaks the contact, gesturing the Caduceus close to her. Her hands, trembling and bruised, reach up to cup the Hearthstone between the wings crowning the staff's head.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''Just a little... bit of strength... '' She draws fully of the life stored in the green crystal, knowing she had only dealt with the comparatively minor damage. The crushed, wing, limbs and eye, the severed tongue... these unforgivable assaults on her innocent patients, these cruel and crippling injuries... these ones would demand much of her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And a part of Ryshassa's heart looks forward to it, to being the vessel into which such depths of pain can be unburdened...
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Fiona: ''' Fiona helps one stabilize as Ryshy holds the other, passing something to them... butterflies of dreams, giving them a little strength, giving the void of pain of their unconscious some strength to endure, to hold to life. And then Ryshassa comes, touching them... taking away the immediate hurt, sterelising the wounds... closing most of their wounds, cleanly in her. She takes all the hurt of their emaciated bodies.. but all the horrible, definitive wounds remain....
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' Iselsis walks away from the room... leaving the beds, patients and creepings vines.... runs out of the hall where the elementals speak in a strange tongue that mixes Forest Tongue and Old Realm... and is on the steps of the clinic as an armored hand tightens slightly around her arm, stopping her. "Wait up. I know that was horrible, but that is no reason to run away like that."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' There's ice in her voice as she pulls away from his grasp. "I suggest you not touch me again for the next few minutes, Dorian, I need to be somewhere I won't make people scared right now.", and she stalks off again, into an alleyway.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Right now it doesn't matter to her if Dorian follows or not. There's something inside of her, an anger waiting to be let out on the first unsuspecting victim that gave her bit the faintest of reason to rip them to shreds.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She couldn't let that happen.
| |
| − | | |
| − | So in an alley next to the clinic, she faces a wall.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And in the wall she sees the Bishop, his men, his servants, the thousands of attrocities she's seen. The things she hasn't had time to process or digest.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She punches the wall and screams, again, and again, and again, until the murderous rage in her heart calms somewhat, punching whole chunks out of it, ripping open her knuckles and leaving her hand bloody, but she doesn't care, it'll heal.
| |
| − | | |
| − | And when she's done, a few stray tears seeping from her closed eyes, she simply rests her forehead against the wall.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Ryshassa removes her kimono, leaving the pale pink underrobe beneath it, allowing the purple and crimson cloth to drift unceremoniously to the floor. Taking a deep breath, she approaches the girl first. How anyone could have done such a thing, it twists her guts inside just to think -- to wonder who might enjoy such suffering, to wonder what one might believe to gain by debasing and destroying another.
| |
| − | | |
| − | She touches the girl once more, there on the mass of flesh that was a wing, there where she once had a working leg. The Caduceus, Ryshassa keeps close, her bastion of strength, her healing guide. The staff's wings stretch out to their full length, the feathers animated as fluidly as molten metal.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Her eyes slip shut. ''My flesh for yours, so you may fly again. My flesh for yours so you may walk again. My flesh for yours, so you may see again. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | She feels the lines of pain carving into her body, carving through it, dissolving it like acid eats through skin, stains of blood expanding darkly upon the pale cloth of her underrobe as she wills herself not to cry out. A whimper escapes her as she bites down on her lips, but little more, the shaking of her body a more apparent judge of the pain she bears. And she does not let go, does not pull away until the limbs are remade, until the sacrifice of her flesh makes her patient whole.
| |
| − | | |
| − | When it is done she is leaning against the edge of the bed, her shoulders bowed and heaving. ''No--cannot rest yet. Must help the other. ''
| |
| − | | |
| − | She turns, approaching the boy now, not allowing herself to pause or to think of anything besides her desire to aid him. ''It will be easier now'', she thinks; ''I know how it will feel''. But the agony is still enough to nearly buckle her knees, as the flesh of her arms is partially unknit to replace the boy's severed tendons, and her tongue -- her tongue! Ryshassa makes a wordless, strangled sound, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth as she forces herself to complete the transfer, to give the boy back what he lost.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ''My flesh so you may speak... '' And that is the last she can even bear to think, somehow finding enough coordination to sink to her knees without collapsing.
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' He watches. He makes no movement. He is like a shadow, like a cloud. And like the clouds, it simply drifts slowly, out in the sky... until it comes down, as gently, sweet rain. Touching her bloodied knuckles, moving her closer, without words. His anima is slowly receeding, no thunder or lighting anymore, just a squall... that slowly soothes Iselsis.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I know."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "I want to h-hurt them... I want to hurt them so bad..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She still leans against the wall, afraid the feeling will come back if she tries to back up, though she shakes her head, which under any other circumstance might've looked comical.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Why? We have to do something. We have to stop this. Why aren't we doing anything Dorian? Why isn't the entire fucking windian army out here ''right now''? That could've been you or me. That will be you and me if things keep going like they are."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Where are our supplies? Where are the fucking black ops now that their combined might is needed? Where are our ''grand sorcerers''? What the ''hell'' is wrong with this world that they'll sit and debate endlessly when evil is battering down their doors? Huh? Why aren't they ''doing something''?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Fiona: ''' It is magic. She could stabilize wounds, but never so many. She could never do what Ryshassa was doing... ''changing'' their flesh back, pretty much... and being hurt... so much. Meekly, the Twilight knelt besides Ryshassa, touching her shoulders, letting dreams fill the air around them... "It hurts, doesn't it...?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Narrator: ''' A White Lily peers over the bodies, touching them, slowly annointing them with the healing ointments that are as their sweat, their blood. Making their vulnerable, healed but emaciated bodies covered, protected... she turns to the healers, her voice solemn. "All of her crippling injuries... they are gone. It will be some time, however, before she..."
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' "Y-yes..." There is not much more Ryshassa can say to that question, really -- and she speaks with difficulty, her tongue deeply gashed. "But I am glad I could help them... so glad." The pain seems to ease somewhat, in Fiona's presence. She smiles to the younger woman, gratefully.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The White Lily's words bring something more to Ryshassa's attention, though, and a crease of worry mars her brow. "Yes... psychologically, I cannot yet be sure... whether they will easily recover..." She almost tries to get up, almost, but finds her knees still unwilling to comply. "They will need to be watched closely and counseled. If they had family or loved ones, anywhere, they should be notified... so they can be with people they trust."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' "Politics." He says ruefully. "Politics. Our powerful black ops? Guarding Winlandia. Guarding Father, the Durants, the Silverstars... god knows what Valencia is doing here. If she had not been a clear-headed, honest person, it would be just us. The loose cannons. The crazies. The undesirables. Helll... I came here because I wanted to make a name for myself. Still do..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "... but it is more now."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "They have not walked out of the ivory mountain - they can afford to be selfish like I was, without seeing this..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' And suddenly she's off the wall. And angry, but not like before, indignity is what she feels now.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "That's not ''good enough! '' Damn your father, damn the Durants, and damn the Silverstars!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Someone has to ''tell'' them, make them see, that ''now'' is the time for action, because if it isn't now this will be their son, their daughter, or their lover hanging on the walls being milked for every ounce of horror and misery!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Someone has to make them see, because if we don't stop them, it won't just be our country at stake, it's the north and even the world! Once they overrun Windia there'll be no stopping them, they'll spread and spread, and there will be no more light, no more hope, no more dreams, and no more color!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "There'll be nothing but ''death'' and ''horror'', and the ruins of Windia will stand as a symbol of how ''we failed to act'', the fallen idol of a pathetic ideal!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Fiona: ''' "I could feel it, Ryshassa... they are broken. All they have gone through.... I can't even imagine... I felt it as I touched them." She shivers, unable to answer to Ryshassa's smile.... "You and Kanti... you can do something for that, can't you...?"
| |
| − |
| |
| − | '''Dorian: ''' He is left speechless.
| |
| − | | |
| − | What could he possibly say to that?
| |
| − | | |
| − | She was right, of course... she was right.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "They will. And someone has to. But Valencia failed, Iselsis. ''Valencia failed! '' The Pale and Silver Angels went to Lord Durant, and they got support from his military, but by no means inconditional. The best tried, Iselsis..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "It's up to us, now. It's up to us to save Windia."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Said an exausted Dragon-Blooded to the other, in a damp, dark alley.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Ryshassa: ''' Ryshassa's expression, too, is much more solemn, now that the initial thrill of healing has faded from her. "If it is indeed an affliction and not true psychological damage... then yes... I could unravel it," she answers Fiona. "But even without magic, one who has suffered so greatly and survived will be plagued by nightmares and flashbacks for a long time to come. If it were so easy, I..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "...I would be able to help Kanti, too." Ryshassa shudders, remembering vividly her disastrous attempt at such a process, culminating in the appearance of the Vestal through the conduit of Kanti's scars. "Still, I can try. No, I will. I must..." Possessed by the idea of this new task, Ryshassa wills herself to rise her feet again, bringing up the kimono with her, replacing it around her body to cover the unsightly blotches of blood on her underrobe.
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Iselsis: ''' "No.", she shakes her head, "No, not like that. We're in over our heads. I died at the battle for Spire, Dorian. Died or as good as dead. They had me and it was only by the grace of the funeral priest and his selfless wife that I lived."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I will not die a hero's death in vain. I won't be remembered as the person who soldiered on and never even ''tried'' to change her fate. I won't be remembered as one of the people who damned the north through inaction."
| |
| − | | |
| − | She takes a deep breath.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "I'm going home. I'm going home and I'm going to take whatever weapons I can, and I will do whatever I can to make them see. If you want you can die here and die a hero's death."
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Me? I'd rather make them see, and beat these things."
| |
| − | | |
| − | '''Fiona: ''' "And she would have taken my nightmares away..." The enchantress says, her voice muted, so very muted, holding Ryshassa's hand... "Come on. You need to rest, before anything... let their bodies recover first... you need to let yourself recover..."
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| − | '''Dorian: ''' "Good luck, then. If you think you can succeed where everyone else failed... I can only pray for you. Pray you will give them some insight, wake those stupid nobles out of their self-preservation." He smiles with a shrug of his shoulders "And I hope you will pray for us."
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| − | "Me, I intend to have fried them all before you get back here."
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| − | "But if I fall... do work me in the war cry, will you?"
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| − | ''If we are to go, it will be with style. And impact. ''
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| − | '''Iselsis: ''' She just nods. She could understand, and her heart was telling her to go kill the bishop's lot deader than they already were, but someone had to draw a line somewhere.
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| − | ''Might as well be the freak. ''
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| − | "Try not to get killed out there Dorian. The north needs people like you."
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| − | And with that she flies off to her room.
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| − | ----
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/SixthMovement|Sixth Movement]]
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| − | * - Back to [[GoldenCat/DanceOfAngels|A Dance of Angels]]
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