GoldenCat/Countdown11
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Deepdive
The Temple of Aryan.
Northern God of Cats.
Together with Levana, the Sorrowful Rain, one of the two Directional Gods who make Spire their home. Due to the Prayer circuit within Spire, that amplifies prayers and power so greatly... the same circuit now perverted by Calobis to bring about the murder of a whole city at once. The Shades of Eventide seek to stop him. And so far, they have gone through a lot.
One of the temples have been broken, exploded. The Virdynn, Aryan’s personal guard turned to the dark side, have been taken out with it. Bouki, Calobis’ pet and spider chariot has gone to Archren, one of the most powerful figures on Spire and a Geomancer of legendary skill, and tried to use her to connect all the prayer lines in Spire once again, but was stopped by the Child of Wyld Days. That was minutes ago, while the Shades of Eventide came to Aryan’s temple.
In front of it, they fight a hundred and one opponents.
The Fangs of Bouki, Calobis’ elite. The Eye of Sorrow, his apprentice.
And inside, Moon has come...
... and the Dog falls like a shooting star.
Through the First Age Temple's roof, breaking through two floors until finally falling on the cathedral... breaking the seats as he falls, on the room filled with Ghosts. Figures fall away from where he lands, startled in their religious robes, and a priest - dressed much like the one he had met before - points at him, frothing. "Who dares..."
The interior of the temple is like a miasma of prayer. It appears as shimmering cobwebs over the incense. It seems to burn on every one of the three hundred and thirty-three candles. It fills the ambient, and seems to reflect on the ghostly flesh, making them... shine, almost. Of course, ghostly flesh that seemed to be material. But they could not be sustaining it... and, though this was not a Shadowland, it seemed to work as one. Maybe the walls... every painting of cats ripped, ever mural desecrated and carved out... forming so many strange, necromantic runes.
All the ghosts within are dressed in simple robes...
Seventh Moon: Moon rose langerously from floor where he squatted, the ground around him dimpled into a crater whose edge nearly reached his knees. He grinned broadly, slapping a palm against himself to knock the worst of the dust loose. That had been fun!
A shiver ran through him that quickly turned into a shake, his arms flailing slightly as his side as he shook more dirt out of his fur. He stepped out of the pit, lips smacking to work up a good goblet of dirty-spittle that he hawked towards the priest before finally speaking.
"Hey man," he waved casually, looking around the room, over and through the assembled ghosts and towards the doorways leading out instead. "Ya seen a fuckin' cat god 'round here somewhere? Supposed ta save his useless ass, so kinda wanna know where he is, so I can go the other way."
Ghosts: He had Moonlight about him... it was clear who dared. Of course, his manners threw them all off-balance. But for the Priest, who scoffed, chains coming from his armor, dangling down from his arms.... "Aryan? He is behind me, a prisioner within his own Sanctum, his own place of power. Now, go the other way. This way lies only death."
The praying ghosts begun to moliate themselves.
Limbs become blades. Soft ghostly flesh becomes translucent armor.
"Not very different from all the others, admittedly."
Seventh Moon: "Death all 'round us, huh?" he asked, grinning lopsidedly, long fangs gleaming in the momentary sunlight that burst through the broken rooftop above. He cast the transforming ghosts an unworried glance as he tugged a splinter of wood out of his fur and used it to pick at his teeth. "Could always crack a fuckin' window."
Priest: "You are very confident for one who walked in the middle of a ceremony for murder, little Lunar."
"Pehaps you will be our offering!"
Seventh Moon: A dollop of moonsilver rolled up from Ebb, coating the wooden splinter clutched between his fingers. Moon clucked his tongue and, with small grunt of satisfaction, finally dug out the piece of rubble that had trapped itself between his teeth, spitting the bit of stone out onto the ground. Teeth newly cleaned, he grinned at the priest.
"And perhaps the Un-fuckin'-Conquered Sun will come blazin' out my goddamn ass and sing us all a fuckin' tune."
Moon's arm snapped out to the side suddenly. His fist stopped, less than an inch away from the face of a near by ghost. The grin on his face took a turn for the darker as his head dropped a little and shoulders hunched warily, rankles rising on the back of his neck.
"If I were you man," he said as he let his hand fall away and left buried deep between the ghosts eyes and shimmering sliver of moonsilver, shimmering veins of light pulsing ever wider through it's ghostly flesh as it tore the spirit apart from the inside out. "I'd start prayin' for music real fuckin' fast."
Ghosts: ... and effortlessly, life is crushed out of the ghost, Corpus snuffed, decomposing in little snowflakes.
And the other ghosts... many of them... take a step back. Many steps back! There is a mumbling... so much mumbling it seems like some weird entity's voice, as all mumble at once... and then, they begin to run away, moliating their bodies in smaller shapes! Few remain, and the Priest screams, cursing each and every one of them. "Cowards! How can those chosen to pray have so little faith? Had me Calobis' elite outside, I would flay the flesh from your bones!"
But some still stayed. Blades on hand...
"Like so. Make an example out of him!"
And so they do, jumping towards Moon with corpse-blades shining....
Seventh Moon: And with a growl in his throat and silvery Essence burning in the lines of his smashfists, he leapt to meet them. His hand snagged a near by pew as he rushed into the oncoming circle of ghosts, swinging the massive bench around as he skidded onto his knees across the tiled floor and hoisted it above his head to catch the ghost-warriors blows.
Ghosts: Their blades stuck only the bench, some getting stuck, the curses of the Priest and the remaining ghosts...
"Get him!" The priest calls... "Pile on him until he stops moving! Exalted or not, he is just one man! "
Seventh Moon: ... and shoving back against as they thunked harmlessly into the solid oak.
"I ain't a man, dickhead."
Hopping back to his feet and throwing himself upwards swiftly, he thrust the bench into them as strings of black jade and silver poured off of his smash fists. Spiderwebs of moonlight and darkness roped around the ghosts, tiny hound-heads at the end of each snapping their jaws deep into the molated flesh as the tail ends broke free from the gauntlets and wrapped around the pew. Moon hoisted upwards, all five of the ghostly warriors pinned to the thick bench, dangling helplessly above his head. At least for the brief moment before he twisted to the side and sent them all hurling across the room to smash into the wall.
"I'm a fuckin' dog."
Ghosts: It crashes, and with its thunderous sound, their screams!
Blood rush as five others move close by, their forearms and cloaks joining into axes, their edges shining in the prayer-light as they come down on Moon's head!
Seventh Moon: Stooped low from his throw and braced on the knuckles of one hand, Moon looked up as the five heavy blades came swooping down towards him...
Then looked up even higher, to a chandler that had somehow managed to stay dangling from a battered ceiling beam.
His castemark flashed and Moon dropped to both hands, arms and legs bending him low to the ground. The axes came down, a perfect blossom of blades. He pushed off, twisting as he rocketed straight upwards into the air and caught himself with arms and legs on the chandler.
The sheer force of his impact knocked the whole chandler upwards on it's rope, spilling still-burning candles and searing wax down onto the ghost bellow. But if they even felt those, they'd have forgotten about the minor pain seconds later, when gravity took hold yet again and the chandler fell back down and swung almost gracefully through the air.
Moon let go with his hands, dangling by his knees as the circle of brass sliced through the air and rose back to nearly kiss the ceiling. Close enough for him to grab the half-exposed beam it was dangling from, his fingers sinking into the wood. The chandelier started to swing back and Moon jerked his weight against it. There was a groan of protest and the high-pitched wiz of nails as they burst out of the plate holding the massive brass fixture to the roof. The rope fell and for a moment the chandelier was dangling upside down from Moon instead. He swung in place, waiting till the spear-like candle holders aimed themselves into the center of the circle of ghosts bellow. Then he straightened out his legs and let it fall.
Ghosts: .... Thunk
It is a dry noise as they fall, crushing all beneath them. The Ghosts do not have time to scream.
And they all look up at the Lunar, all the eight ones that are left, trying to moliate themselves into ranged weapons...
And the priest's teeth rattling can be heard even from that far up.
"You... dog..."
Seventh Moon: And feet kicking lazily through the air above their heads, Moon tilted his head back and gave the priest an upside-down grin. "Arf, fucker."
The lazy swing suddenly became uniform, his feet closing together and swinging upwards as once. His boots smashed into the wooden beam and broke it free behind his hands. Tumbling back towards the ground, he held on tight as he fell, landing only a few feet from where the impact crater of his entrance was. The beam nearly twice as long as he was tall and almost as thick around, heavy and well burnished oak. It could take a lot of punishment.
He pulled the wooden beam back, it's jagged edge scrapping across the ground, ripping out floor tiles and gouging a crescent-moon into the earth.
Crescent? Naw, that shit'll never do...
The heavy plank whipped around, tearing through the ground as it swept the remaining ghosts aside one by one, throwing them and the very ground they stood on up into the air. Moon spun until the beam ended where it had started, an almost perfect circle carved into the ground around him. His castemark glinted in what could almost be called approvel.
Better.
Ghosts: He swings the plank... and swats them all aside, bashing and breaking all heads on his way!
And then... among crushed ghost-bodies, only two are left.
They look at Moon.
Then, they look at each other.
Then, they run!
And the priest smashes the altar under his fist.
"Idiots. If you need something done... you have to do it yourself, apparently."
And thus, he jumps towards Moon, the ruby-typed chain going straight between Moon's eyes!
"... like so!"
Seventh Moon: ... and struck through the center of a far larger pair of eyes instead. The Hound crouched in the air around him, smaller than it's full iconic glory but still terribly large. And very unhappy, cold essence frothing from it's mouth as it snarled silently. In it's dead center, Moon felt the tip of the chain tickling the fur on his face. Propped up on the broken ceiling beam, leaning back so far his feet nearly left the ground, Moon glared down the length of the chain at the priest.
Priest: ... but it goes through the beam, cuttiong a sliver of the flesh of Moon's face!
"The first cut. The first blood, Lunar." The Priest says, landing atop one of the few remaining chairs, with perfect balance. "Is mine!"
Seventh Moon: The Hound, seemingly as surprised by Moon's pain as the man himself was, wavered and washed away in the air. Moon touched a finger tip to the bloody fur on his brow, pulling back a crimson smeared finger tip. And glared. He looked up at the priest, leaning back upwards suddenly "What the fuck? Ya asshole! Ya got any idea how much that fuckin' stings?"
Moon snatched the chain out of the air in front of him before it could retract away and glared at it, then down at the now shorter ceiling beam still propped in his other hand. Jerking hard for more slack from priest's end, he looped the ruby chain around the heavy beam and jammed the cutting tip into the wood.
"See how the fuck you like it, fucker..." he growled, he hugged the shortened beam in both arms and swung. The priest left the bench and the ground as well, swinging through the air on the other end of the chain as Moon whipped him around in the air, letting him bump and scrap of the walls and floors of the temple for a few seconds before sending him crashing into the broken altar.
Priest: He is swung in the air, again and again, falling on the far end of the room, breaking through the walls, and then landing on the remains of the altar... slowly getting up, coughing blood. "You... you disrespectful... wretch. Do you have any idea what you are destroying?"
"Yoou...."
Without his chain, he takes a moment to draw two knives from his armor...
And waits, on the far end of the room, for the Lunar to come.
Seventh Moon: Only the Lunar doesn't come. Standing in the same spot where he had swung the priest around, Moon waited at ease, hands thrust into his coat pockets. And absolutely no sign of the ceiling beam around him.
"Cat temple," he answered mater-of-factly, shrugging dismissively. "Nothin' no ones gonna miss."
The priest might not have noticed the dark spot that had developed between his eyes, nearly a mirror for the cut he had marked Moon with. But he would have certainly noticed when the spot suddenly became a circle that engulfed his whole head. Or when the circle became a spot-light of darkness than surrounded him completely.
The ceiling beams screamed back into the temple after it's trip into the sky above, where Moon had thrown it in the seconds the priest had spent getting back to his feet. A spear from heaven, the gem-encrusted chain swishing through the air behind it, it fell point first towards the priest.
"Kinda like you," he finished as the beam hit the earth, throwing up billowing clouds of dust and wood splinters as it smashed into and against the ground where the priest stood.
Priest: The Priest looks up... and when he notices, it is almost too late!
He tries to jump away, then, desperately...!
It all falls on him, then, pinning his form under the rubble...
Barely hurt, but very much immobilized.
"Damn... you...."
Seventh Moon: Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Step by step, he strolled across the thoroughly torn-up church ground. A new shadow fell over the priest, though this one the outline of a man. Mostly a man. Moon stooped down and grabbed the front of the priest's vestments, tugging him up a little. He grinned, filling the man's world with big fangs and silver-white fur and glowing yellow eyes.
"Too late man, someone beat ya to it," he said, pointing up to the silver circle shinning on his brow, hovering above the bloody field of fur. Moon waited till the priest's eyes flickered upwards for just a moment, and then...
CRACK!
Their heads smacked together as he yanked the priest up and drove his own head down, planting the circle of his caste mark square into the other man's forehead.
Priest: And there is a crunch sound, his helmet breaking inwards, the form of the Priest on Moon's hands going... limp.
Seventh Moon: Moon let him go, dusting off his hands as he stood back up and arched his back in a long stretch. A pleased shiver ran up his spine and he shook it out. He looked around the broken room a moment, scratching at an itch on the back of his head and taking survey of the damage. The sight of this holy place, desecrated and ruined, looking as much like the victim of a storm as of a battle, left him feeling... immensely satisfied.
Moon cast a look over his shoulder, towards the door where the priest had said they'd taken Ayren. Somewhere in the darkness beyond, the cat god of the Spire lay in pain and torment as a corrupted goddess tortured him. And it may only be Moon who could reach them in time to stop it. Now he just had to decided... did he take a nap or see if there was any sacred wine around here to get drunk on?
Wait, fuck, rest of the cities in trouble too...
Moon sighed in disgust, but turned to face the door just the same. Step by painful, he trotted off into the darkness. It galled him, deeply, but he couldn't let the rest of the city suffer and die at the hands of these undead assholes. Even if that did mean saving a cat to do it.
"Fuckin' cats..." he grumbled. He just hoped the others would get their shit together and catch up soon. Know saying how ugly this could get...
Meanwhile, outside Aryan’s Temple...
Kanti: Kanti blinks as the glass surrounds her.
She had seen him die, seen the magic start to send him to lethe...
And then it had not.
And he had been where she was, and then he was falling.
Kanti threw off the glass in a cloud of a thousand and one mirrors and the mirrors caught her attackers as she lept up and off, holding them away from her.
She started falling and falling fast, skipping off the surface of the building as she fell,
gaining speed as she powered down the building, leaving a trail of scents and shimmering glass flying upwards behind her.
Then she reached him with the spear still burning and time seemed to freeze as she weaved through the motions of her dance, robes flapping around her, flipping from the statues of cats as she flows, spear darting along a complex pattern.
????: He was looking up as he fell, as if on slow-motion, the cloak whirling about him, and from afar, he probably looked nothing more than a falling rag... albeit one with eyes that would blink at the onlooker, bringing empitness and madness. He looked up, eyes shining like stars, the cape open, sending its beams upwards.... all missing Kanti, barely even touching her dress.
The Mirror of Endings had protected his life, and Kanti destroyed only his reflection.
But that was over, the Wonder spent.
And as he fell he kept firing, spite beams missing the Fire Aspect and exploding against the walls of the temple, some of the energy gathering around his hand... as he tried to deflect the spear... forming a shield of spite against her saintlyness, as they continued their ballet in mid-air, in a fall that seemed to last an eternity!
Elizabeth Holysword: Traditionally, that would be where the Brave Heroine dies, her love for her brother the last thing on her lips...
...Liz, on the other hand, just kinda gets up and dusts herself off, leaking profusely and looking up just in time to see Kanti strike down the creature in mid-air.
...What was her name, again? Kanti? I'll have to remember it.
Alexander: They are still falling, and he begins to be consumed, viridian light filling the insides of his cloak...
The golden shadow that is Alexander looks up, and sees it with a smile.
And swings again, burning through his power in rage, killing as many as he can....
He screams in rage, but no discernible sound comes...
Ghosts: They are still falling, as some of the ghosts jump down, after Kanti....
There are fewer and fewer, now. So, so few left...
But still, they are elite. And they still have in them the fight to jump down, trying to strike at the Fire Aspect in mid-air...
And at both the Holysword siblings on the ground, wondering why Elizabeth is not dead! Something her brother has still to realise, apparently.
Elizabeth Holysword: The ghosts fall upon them, but just as Alex gets ready to defend himself, a shadow appears above him-- Elizabeth, who twists impossibly in the air, impaling three ghosts with each end of the terrible double-scythe.
Alexander: And they are impaled, utterly destroyed... and as the angry shadow looks upwards.... he sees.
He sees the Blood Angel.
"Liz..."
He whispers, seeing her looming over him.... and the sunlight begins to clear.
Kanti: As the light burns the captain out, Kanti starts to fall again and the ghosts and glass fall with her.
there, you will not harm him.
Now travel on to your next life.
May the dragons smile on you.
Skipping from mirror to mirror Kanti fights them as she falls, a dazzling lightshow of flame and viridian cut through with the shadows of the dead as they fall and fight and tumble, each mirror winking out in a flash of heat as she steps on it, replaced by an iris blossom that drifts in the breeze.
She lands in a brilliant green halo, iris blossoms touching down all around her.
Alexander: Less than a dozen are left. From five scores and one...
They look at how this looks.... and try to leave. But as they try to sneak away, their bodies are tangled by the webs that surrounded their bodies... not allowing them to leave, pushing them upwards, into the air, like puppets on a string.
Not that the Prince noticed that... the shadow vanishing from his bare body, he jumps on his sister, hugging her...
"Liz! "
Elizabeth Holysword: Elizabeth blinks, hardly bleeding at all now. "Yes, me? I've been here for a while now? We were fighting things?" she furrows her brow, "You didn't hit your head did you Alex?"
Alexander: "I.. you... blood... I thought, I thought... I thought you had..."
Elizabeth Holysword: "Hey!" she smiles, holding her arms out to show Alex her body "I've told you, I'm immortal! You don't have to worry about me, it's my job to worry about you"
Alexander: He looks at her... and she is healed. Fully healed....
It is so hard to believe. It is like a dream. But no, he remembers how she was hurt... and she just... got better.
She would not die...
And as he stares, smiling in awe, the bodies of the remaining ghosts begin to merge in the skies above them....
Kanti: Beneath the merging ghosts, Kanti looks up.
That is not right.
That is not proper.
That is no way to avoid your next life.
She leaps with a burst of flame, right up into the heart of the group above her, spear flowing through the fivefold lotus as another halo of green appears, Kanti continueing to fly up and over, flipping in the air to land on her feet.
Elizabeth Holysword: Elizabeth looks down at her brother and smirks, "Now come over here. Your clothes apparantly aren't immortal"...
Alexander: Alex looks down....
And then the happyness disappears from his face.
And then his eyes open to the size of saucers.
And then his face goes from celestial white to embarassed red.
And he yelps, letting to of Ainerach and covering himself with his hands....
Elizabeth Holysword: Elizabeth smiles outright at his reaction, moving foward to help him with his little 'problem'. She picks up a scrap of cloth from the ground and marks it with a small symbol in blood. A whip of her arm and-- like stageshow magic, the scrap comes to life, wrapping around Alex in the shape of a well-tailored...
...dress.
Alexander: "... Liz!" He is still embarassed, never knowing how wearing a dress made the wind blow to his nether regions... and then he looks up, seeing Viridian light wash over the battlefield... and Kanti lands, and all the enemies are gone. Some of the corpses are around them, others are gone in white or viridian fire. All is done... and Kanti is immaculate.
And he is feeling so, so inadequate in his dress.
"Kanti..."
Kanti: "Yes, my prince?"
She bows.
Alexander: "... you did well." He nods, looking down at his chest... where the dress just falls short. Well, of course, he did not have any cleavage to show, but must it show so much of his bare chest? He leans down to catch Ainerach again... supposing that, well, if Elizabeth made a dress for him, it was the only thing she could do. Probably because she is a girl. But still... he kept blushing, not looking either of the girls straight. "So... where do we go?"
Kanti: "Thank you, my Prince."
And Alex can see that the words make her shine with pride, making the black whorls on her face seem lesser, the black scars on her body seem thinner.
"Deeper into the temple, I think, my prince. They wished to stop us from entering."
Elizabeth Holysword: Elizabeth nods. "Did anyone see where that dog thing went? He's probably off in an alley somewhere licki-- er, slacking off..."
Seventh Moon: Whumph!
With a yowling creek, the great doors of the temple swung open wide before them. The doors smacked into the wall with a stone-shaking rattle, one of them bending on it's hinges a moment before ripping free and thudding to the ground.
"Whoops." Moon said, without much conviction. Standing just inside the temple, the Lunar gazed out at the trio of other Exalts a moment, then waved. "Hey. Shits done in here, if ya lot are finished standin' 'round outside chattin' it up."
Alexander: And good thing, too, if Moon ever saw me dressed like... The Prince begins to think, sighing in relief... before the doors open. Noooooooooooooo! No no no no no no no! He nearly cries out, hiding behind Elizabeth, hoping Moon will not see... or mind... or understand... or whatever!
Seventh Moon: Moon did, indeed, see, but only stared for a few seconds before shaking his head. He'd learned that it's really far better just not to ask.
Still, this, and now of all times...
Man... royalty.
"C'mon ladies," he called, motioning them onward with a wave of his arm and he headed back into the temple. "We ain't got all fuckin' day, y'know? Quit the goddamn quiltin' circle and get a move on!"
Within...
And then, they rush within the temple...
Seventh Moon, the Howl in the Seventh Night.
Elizabeth Holysword, the Blood Angel.
Kanti no Freville, the Garda Bird.
And Alexander Holysword...
... who looks so very uncomfortable on his dress.
As they rush the stairs of the Aryan’s temple – desecrated, all murals scratched, intricate imageries drawn in blood – The prince tries hard not to sigh at the feeling of the air up the skirt, on his bare legs, at the feeling of the dress on his body – and how it shows that his body is still one a dress would fit well, a little ways away from forming firm traces of masculinity on his frame. That was the worse, really. How it fit on him as if he was a woman. He sighed, avoiding Moon’s gaze at all costs as they rushed foward...
And a feeling – a sort of tension in the air... a feeling of... unease begun to grow, felt by all of them...
Seventh Moon: "... just sayin' ya should'a gone with a shorter skirt, y'know? All the other girl-boy types I seen did," Moon was finishing telling Alex as they ran towards the stairs. But the Lunar suddenly stopped, lurching forward onto the balls of his feet and throwing his arms out wide. A wary growl rumbled in his throat, his pale eyes flashing as the scent of something mortal eyes couldn't see pressed down on him. So, he made his eyes more than mortal, threads of silver twisting through the yellow of his eyes.
"A'ite, whateva the fuck ya are, get ya ass out," He barked at the air, looking around above them. "We ain't got a lotta fuckin' time ta deal with ya, so lets make this shit quick, a'ite?"
Alexander: "I am telling you, it was not my choice! It is just... all Liz could make! I do not like dressing like this! It is not pretty and comfortable and oddly ... no, it is not at all!" He sayss in embarassed desperation, as they get to the cathedral... and Moon barks. Sometimes, there was so much of the dog in him coming closer to the surface... his memories should teach him about Lunars, but they could never truly prepare him to that....
"As quick as we can... you are all ready? Liz...?" And of course, Elizabeth.
Who looked perfectly fine only minutes after having been run through blasts that blew the street around them to smithreens.
Kanti: My prince does look odd in that dress.
could his ... sister truely do nothing else?
"I am ready, my prince, though there is a strange feeling in the air..."
Elizabeth Holysword: Elizabeth snickers at Alex trying to explain. It was mean, but that was her prerogative as an older sister. Besides, if she was going to dump the crown on him and run after Whiteshield was saved, well, he should have enough sense to not blow his clothes off in public...
...though there was that one Holysword back a few hundred years...
Narrator: All around them, the ruined cathedral. The chandelier rests on the ground, over a crater made by Moon as he crashed down, the bodies of ghosts rapidly eroding in snowflakes. And in front of them, the broken altar, and somewhere only Elizabeth can see, the entrance to Aryan's Sanctum. And then... all around them, the air begins to become red... like dust of rubies... and seems to... explode, as they feel something rake at their spirit. An explosion without any physical component, just cutting their insides... as the crimson wave pours forth... touching the cobwebs they had seen outside. Set by Bouki, they would send the energy through Spire's prayer-geomancy smoothly enough....if she had not been taken down. Now, they simply decayed, and the wave became more of a breeze.
And after the sudden feel of a heart attack, there is just the unease again. It might not be good for a Mortal, but none of them there were mortals.
Alexander: Ainerach cried.
The Prince made a sweep with it, burning the mist away. Clearing the air. Banishing a small spot of Necromancy for the time being.
"We have to hurry to the Sanctum. Now! If I get close enough to it, I can break it!"
"But if I do not... someone has to bring this whole thing down."
Seventh Moon: "I'll take care'a that shit," Moon growled softly, grimacing at the momentary pain. "Breakin' shits what I fuckin' do."
Of course, he had every intention of bringing the place down anyway, wither or not they succeeded.
Elizabeth Holysword: Elizabeth strides forward, gesturing at the sanctuary door with Sunset Lament. "You'll have to see your way there first.". A swift swing and an almost musical tinling of ruby shards on the ground reveals the doorway to Aryan's sanctuary and Avia.
Kanti: Kanti watches as the lunar woman works her quick magic on the sanctum door, the infinite portal of flowers becoming more real, the flowers blowing in a strange breeze, though still coiling around the sanctum's entrance.
Alexander: It was beautiful. Elizabeth's movement, and the door opening. A door of light...
"Right, then! Moon, as soon as we are in, bring it down! And if you can follow... please do." And then, the prince jumps foward... spreading his wings, and flying into the light, in front of them all...
... without realising the wind thrown by his wings, the fact he has a skirt on, and no underwear.
Seventh Moon: There were many sights Moon had seen in the past few months that would haunt him forever. Sarah crying as she vanished between his fingers. Bodies skewered against the Spire's tip. The Heaven House transformed into a demonic temple and then burnt to the ground.
But none of them would be burnt into his mind with the same horrible and painful clarity as Alexander's snow white ass glowing heroically as he leapt into battle, his man-bits waggling energetically through the air as his skirt billowed up around him like a working girl dancing on a tabletop.
"... love is fuckin' dead."
- ... and they were gone, into the door and into a realm beyond the physical....
None there to hear Moon’s words.
Seventh Moon: Moon shivered and sighed, in the duel emotions of relief of the vanished sight of a Solar ass and the horror of it's memory. But he fought the memory down and locked it away. There was work to be done.
A'ite, step four: smash shit!
Moon looked to his left...
Then looked to his right...
Coast seemed clear enough, so he reached deep into the inside pocket of his coat. There was a soft grumbling sound as his fingers clasped around something smooth and glassy. Cradling it in his arms, Moon paced across the temple to the shattered altar he'd beaten the priest against earlier and kicked a block of stone upright. Carefully, he laid the object in his arms down on the altar... and smiled.
"Hey White Dog," he greeted the glass hounds head. It peered up at him, it's half-blind eyes adoring, and licked at his fingers with it's polished tongue. Moon gave it pat, then tilted his head towards the walls around them. "Ya gonna like this shit. This is some fuckin' cat gods temple and I'm gonna beat the shit outta it. Ain't that gonna be fun, boy?"
The fairy-made hounds head made a sort of garbled bark, it's lips stretching back and tongue lulling out of it's mouth cheerfully. Moon smiled back, clapping a fist into his palm. Silver light spiked out from where his knuckles smacked into his hand. "Just hang back and watch," he told the hounds head, though it was difficult to say just where something with no body of it's own was going to go. Moon thought it was mean to the poor thing to keep reminding it of that though. Fuck knows if he was just a head, he wouldn't want some asshole mentioning it every chance they had. Tugging Ebb and Flow tighter around his fingers, Moon turned back to face the half-ruined temple and grinned in anticipation. "This is gonna be good."
- - Back to Seventh Movement
- - Back to A Dance of Angels
