Fandom Soul Eater: F.A.T.E

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Emmett James
Megapost

Collab with: Merciless Medic Meredith Interacted & Mentioned: Sir Les Paul Meredith Merciless Medic​

"I am now."

Emmett only nodded solemnly as Zelda put her hands behind her back and marched back into the confines of the arena, head held as high and proud as ever. She had a way of commanding respect and attention that he almost envied, and he found some comfort in her strong aura. The unforged Death Scythe that she was, with personality and might enough to put anyone in their place and make grown men shit themselves. He knew from first hand experience.

Rand's voice sparked over his ear piece, and Emmett's eyes ran to the Mage's side of the Colosseum. "Clearly, they don't. You should ask why the referees didn't find that to be an appropriate time to step in. We've got things to address on this side."

He moved to leave when suddenly a shiver moved up his spine, and he turned his head in time for his keen Soul Perception to amp up out of habit. In but a moment he scanned the immediate area, but the flare he sensed came from farther away. There, in the bowels of the arena, souls were engaged in resonation and combat. Some appeared out of the veils of Soul Protect, but before Emmett had even had the opportunity to chase after Zelda, several souls had sputtered out and the fight ceased. Then, on que as if to ease his mind, Cyrus' made a particularly faux announcement as to the integrity of the arena's force field.

But what the fuck had just happened?

There were a fair few people in charge of the security here, and countless organizations that might have wanted to infiltrate. Emmett had more pressing things to attend to, but death at the DWMA? He couldn't take it calmly. He'd find out about this sooner or later.

A mild commotion caught his attention from nearby, and he saw Salem approach through the myriad of onlookers. The good doctor was beholden to nothing but stress, as per usual.
Salem had spent the day mentally preparing to bear witness at the arena. His feelings were altogether mixed. Although it was good to see these agents in a different light, where he wasn’t just sitting across from them at a table or awkwardly tagging along to evaluate their performance in the field, he fretted about the real danger of harm to the FATE program’s students and even to people in the stands.

Madness wasn’t something to play around with. Salem knew that as much as anyone. He’d obsessed about the matchups; it was essential that nobody got hurt seriously at an event like this. But he’d been too late to influence anything. Running down the staff hallway and getting caught up by the medics, first, the psychologist attempted to take his position in the dugout. His interception had been heated. Doctor Ossana had, of course, argued his need to be a close observer on the battlefield. But anyone perceptive enough could feel his wavelength – he was stopped in the fear he might influence the fight.

His long, angrily whispered argument had ended with the guard ending at the second thundercrack in the arena. The security had better things to be doing, he assured them heatedly, and when the doctor finally shoved his way past the officer offered him no further resistance. He nearly bumped into an extremely familiar face on his face storming into the dugout so late. It seemed the mentor, too, was in a hurry to get somewhere.

“I’m going to be the next delay in the tournament if they keep fucking me around like this, Emmett,” he proclaimed with a general sense of relief from frustration. It was good to see somebody else reasonable. The tournament had been sprang on him. Most of the students just weren’t ready; it was only a blessing that there was nobody contagiously mad on the field. It felt bad to be out of the loop. "Are you really that eager to be ground into slop by the bureaucracy machine?" Emmett replied and turned to face him. There was an attempt at a smile on his lips, but it didn't go very deep. His eyebrows were furrowed with concern following the results of the first match, and neither Zelda nor Salem could help that.

"Actually, you know, I just think I'm ready - holistically speaking - to become a heap of flesh."

The doctor backpedaled, giving Emmett room to pass him; but the smile curving illegitimately across his lips came from the same source. He waved Emmett past into the hallway grandly, rolling both hands as if indicating a red carpet, but his own eyebrow raised in response to the mentor's obvious stress. "For all intents and purposes, you already are a heap of flesh, Salem. Don't sell yourself short." Emmett replied and accepted his invitation toward the hall. "Sorry to dip, but as you can imagine I have a lot to be doing."

"I'm glad to hear you've got so much faith in me as a coworker!"

Emmett was on his way out, and Salem was on his way in, so as the mentor passed the doctor sidled back onto the path - walking backwards toward the dugout to keep his attention on the man leaving. "Well, don't worry, anyway," he responded, "we'll talk at a better time." With a wave of his hand Emmett disappeared into the underbelly of the arena and Salem made a beeline for his seat. His phone was in his hands by the time he was comfortable, and the doctor scrolled through his texts rapidly, finally landing on a link he’d been sent in the morning.

Footage of the fight he’d missed encapsulated his screen. He sped it up double-time, his eyebrows knitting in concern as he skimmed over the fight he missed. The only problem - there was no audio, at least not yet. Aggravating. The fight seemed… a little intense, at first glance, for an exhibition match.

Even if it was only for show, Emmett intended to follow the request to return to his wing and look out for his students. His passage into the arena however coincided with Thaddeus, whose first comment was to yet again wrongfully assume his intentions. Withholding a disgruntled sigh, Emmett broadly shrugged and waved him off, too exhausted with the current goings on to really appropriately address the issue. Besides, Thaddeus didn’t want to speak. It was a reasonable request, in light of the situation.

Once inside, the aggressive voices of his students became the first thing to snag his attention. Emmett paused his step a corridor over, not wanting to interrupt Sara and Noah’s verbal exchange - and, perhaps, a little curious as to their inner thoughts. Noah echoed his displeasure with the management of the tournament, and Emmett silently agreed. This was exactly the sentiment he wanted to prevent; if the DWMA failed the F.A.T.E. students again then the project was more likely to craft villains than heroes.

Nary a minute had passed since the emotional outburst had shaken the hall where Noah now sat alone when Emmett came in. His tie had been loosened and he carried a slightly more defeated look than normal, but his broadcast wavelength filled the room with the calm that remained in his soul. He didn't bother saying much, rather stepped up, put his back against the wall, and slid down against it three feet next to the bruised weapon. It didn't take soul perception to feel the tension that clung to the air, but Emmett wasn't one to entertain such things. Instead, he reached into his coat and produced a cup of coffee that somehow still steamed despite having been in his secret pocket dimension for however long.

"Coffee?" He asked, absent-mindedly, as he placed the cup down between them. There was a moment of quiet as he fiddled with his inner pocket, and then brought forth a second cup and brought it to his own lips. "I find it helps."

Noah ignored Emmett - or at least tried to. The man’s aura of calm was infuriatingly helping. He didn’t want help, Sara already slapped him awake with the wake up call that she wasn’t taking his shit. He’d rather stew in his defeat and bury his bruised ego in his fetal position away from everyone, but no. Emmett came in. But instead of Emmett talking to him, or reprimanding him, or doing anything… He offered coffee.

Coffee.

Noah stared at the cup. He felt a small corner of his lips curl up in what looked to be a hesitant smirk or disdain. Either way, he slid down, joined Emmett in resting against the wall, and hesitantly took the cup. He didn’t drink it though, he just stared at it. Oddly, the warmth of the cup felt good on his hands. Made him feel alive, at least. Like he was back home.

But his tone was still cold when he spoke to Emmett, still not looking at him directly in the eyes. “Whaddaya want?” Finally, Emmett turned his attention from his cup to actually look at Noah with curiosity playing at his eyebrows. "Why, to check up on homeboy over here of course. How ya feelin' after the fireworks?" His choice of words were wildly out of character from what he's previously shown to the F.A.T.E agents, but his tone of voice was as sincere as it could be.

Noah can feel the want to grin or smirk on his face from being called homeboy. But he doubled down on his own odd want to be mad still, as his own twisted way to cope. However, he knew that wasn’t going to be the case soon. Emmett, with the professor being this close, was rather calming to be around. Yeah, he seemed like a right nutcase for magitech, but he was… Alright. For the most part.

Still staring at the coffee cup, he sighed. “Ya can see it, can’t ya?” He didn’t want to talk about it. His soul quivered as if it was afraid to divulge in the pain he was feeling. Finally though, after a silent moment, he responded to the question truthfully. “Shredded. Zari’s soulfire didn’t feel this bad. Nor did my rejections from Sara… I… Don’t think I can drink the coffee.” His stomach felt like it was spinning and he glared at the coffee, as if it’s mere sight, smell, and feel of the item had the power to give him the resolve he needed to prevent him from vomiting.

"Figures, that was pretty bad." Emmett replied. "Sorry you had to go through it. Want a spiritual Advil?" His words were short, straight to point. It might betray what little a plan he had coming into this, but in typical Emmett fashion he could not leave well enough alone. He held his hand out towards Noah, offering him to take it if he felt so comfortable. "It is, quite literally, my specialty."

Noah felt like Emmett was trying to give sympathy. Sympathy he didn’t need. Sara earlier tried helping and all she did was a slap to the face essentially. Spiritual Advil though. It was curious the way he said it, and he almost wanted to try. Compelled to. He stared at the hand, his gaze transfixed upon it before he finally, for the first time in what felt like forever, looked up at Emmett’s face. Sincere. I don’t need yer fuckin’ sympathy, dammit…

He hated it. Hated every single thing about how helpful these people were. Couldn’t they just sit by and let him seethe by himself? But seeing it was his specialty… He was way too curious. He had no idea of what wavelength Emmett had, but maybe it would help.

He considered it, but he breathed in, opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but sighed. He shook his head. “I don’t wanna touch another Meister right now. Didn’t even want Sara touchin’ me.” He was debating whether to do so or not, but he decided not to. He’ll wait until after Chanterelle’s fight, or if he started feeling like shit. “Got any… Words of wisdom, oh great Mentor?”

"Plenty, but ain't a given they apply to anyone but me." He sighed, then retracted his arm and slid further down against the wall, until only his neck and shoulder blades leaned against it and his bent legs reached halfway across the hallway. Silence reigned for a couple seconds, before he spoke again. "When I came to the DWMA, I didn't want to be a Meister." Emmett produced a magitech ball of some kind from within his suit and began tossing it between his hands. "I wanted to build lego."

He paused, then turned his head to look at Noah, "I'm serious, by the way. That's actually what got me here." Returning his attention to the juggling, he continued. "With no background in science or engineering there wasn't a demand for someone like me within the magitech branches, so I went down the regular NOT - EAT path just waiting for an opportunity to do what I actually wanted."

The ball fell into his hand and he instead began to turn it, clearly unable to speak properly without something to occupy him in his current state of mind. "Back then I didn't compare to any of you. I barely paid attention to what was going on, yet still there were all these fiery weapons filled with ambitions and dreams that needed a meister - and hey, I had some talent, so why not me. Of course, I didn't care about any of that crap." He paused, and gazed into nothing. "There were… a lot of unpleasant words exchanged at times. Things I later came to regret, even if I didn't care at the time."

With an elbow he heaved himself up into a seated position once more, and placed the ball back into his suit. "But you're not so dumb as to repeat the mistakes of some has-been mentor. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not hired to reform you." He turned to look Noah in the eyes now. "I was hired for my particular expertise and specialty in resonance techniques, and as far as my job description goes, I should teach what I see fit for that purpose. I don't care to whip you into some shape based on my worldview. I can tell you, in my academical expertise, that that's a commonly believed myth; that there's a right way." Realizing he was going a bit off point, he shook his head.

"Point is, Noah, guilt grows, and only gets harder to weed out the longer you let it. Don't suffer yourself to live with regret." He raised his left arm and pulled back his sleeve to reveal a digital clock. "I've got to go, but y'know, I'm always available if you need anything."

Noah watched Emmett’s peculiar movements from the corner of his eyes, a little fascinated at his fidgeting despite how much he wanted Emmett to leave. Why did he ask if he had any advice? Of course the man would give it. However, as Emmett explained, his eyes widened. He looked at him fully, confused. He was a Meister now. Legos?

He thought it was a joke until he was told it wasn’t.

The love of Legos, he didn’t expect Emmett’s position here would have been laid down by some blocky yellow bricks. But his story was nothing short of inspiring either way. He was so good with people, yet he didn’t care back then, probably didn’t have the social abilities he had now, and it sounded like he insulted people. He did it because he wanted to help or that it was expected of him by being a meister, yet he hurt people.

Was he telling him that he should be careful of his words now? Emmett appealed to his intelligence, but Noah didn’t feel very intelligent. His therapist told him he had a habit of backpedaling when he’s hurt or stressed, and he didn’t want to keep setting himself back, but he felt like he couldn’t help it. Was this just him? It was strange though. Emmett’s mentoring had nothing to do with reformation strangely enough, but just on resonance. Then he said something about some worldview of his and that there being a ‘right’ way was a myth. Well, that was pretty obvious.

As Emmett finished up his point, Noah huffed and stared at the cup of coffee. Guilt grows like weeds… Noah would like to know what to do with that information. He knew it was bad for him, but how was he supposed to stop doing his old habits? Just… Not do it?

It sounded a lot easier than it actually was.

Emmett had to leave though. Noah sighed and shook his head. “I dunno… I’ve been given therapy ‘n’ thought I wasn’t as bad, but… Hm…” He didn’t want to ask nor put into attention that he had a tough time with weeding out the guilt. There were many things he’s done that he felt guilty on, none he really addressed. Was that how he should do it? Just stop being a coward and square up with what he’s done and talk to people about it?

That sounded like a nightmare.

Still, if it worked and made him better, he should do it. He just didn’t know if he should start now or later. Talking about his fuck ups with Sara seemed to help. Maybe he should start there.

After a short pause after his hum, he finally spoke with some positivity. “Thanks… Emmett…”

"Hey, don't mention it." With a kick, he spun and started walking off. "If perfection was a stable state, then I'd be able to pull off perfect synchronicity at will!" He called out over his shoulder and as his step hit the threshold at the end of the hall, he turned his head back. "Spirit Advil is an open offer, I know how much it hurts. Good luck, I believe in you." And he disappeared behind the corner.

Noah smirked, a genuine smile nearly entering his expression at his perfection remark and the Spirit Advil offer. But Emmett believing in him.

Despite how miffed he was with Gauss and with everything else here, that was the one thing he wondered if Emmett and Zelda held similar convictions to Cyrus or if they were different. It seemed it was the latter. He sighed, feeling the coffee was lukewarm now as he stood up. He wondered if Emmett knew how much that simple word helped his future self. While he was still a bit stubborn for change and to completely drop his irritation, he felt quite a bit better. Still felt sick and in pain and a failed resonance was never that great, his day was just a bit brighter.

But as Emmett's presence left him, Noah wondered just how long it would take for him to feel bitter and cynical of his own partner. Or even with Sara, as he saw her make her way to him, Zelda having told Gauss something about his sister arriving.

He awaited for the shitshow that would start with an ear open and an eye glancing to the room every moment. He really was worried. They all were right.

Why did they have to be so right?

​

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Azariah "Zari" Vasher

When Adra's unfortunate frame finally slipped away from his arm, Zari's dark features turned neutral and unreadable. The collar had not yet put him out of commission, and with the most immediate cause of his anger removed the process of healing could begin - but he was acting on little more than instinct now. His soul, bloated like a tick on the energy he'd stolen from Adra, peaked and flowed like a wild river. Another puddle exploded with magic next to him and forced him to finally act, as Azariah amplified his wavelength enhancement two-fold and tore Jarvis' gauntlet from the street; loosening enough cobblestone and dirt to throw up a defensive wall of debris in the way of the blast.

Doing anything physical was a battle of will, every command he issued his body was like wading through molasses. In a brief moment of lucidity, he witnessed as Zosar made a distracting feint towards the Shuumie, and decided to make the most of the opportunity. He kicked off from the pavement and disappeared from the street before the dust of his attack had settled, then skidded to a halt down an adjacent alley. With one arm supporting his weight against the wall, he breathed uncharacteristically heavy. Still in control but only barely, and the internal struggle carried on.

Inside, his limber arms clutched onto Jarvis as he buried his face into the folds of his jacket. The vampire could reach him, even here - as if the difficulties of resonating did not even register on his radar. Zari briefly felt amazed with his partner's ability, but was soon reminded of the situation they were in when the scorching heat spread across his back. In the blazing inferno behind him a second skeletal hand appeared, gripping as tightly on to the edge of the platform as Zari held Jarvis' shirt. With tears still in his eyes he looked up to Jarvis as he mentioned Calm Mind Training.

I don't want to go there. His soul whimpered, but even as his stomach turned at the thought, Jarvis filled him with confidence. It was true, he needed to leave somewhere, and this time he didn't have to do it alone. The Devil was only going to get closer if he didn't, and frankly... that was worse. He knew the steps, he could do this, it wasn't as scary as it was alone. His left hand climbed up Jarvis' frame until it reached his shoulder, where he gripped hard as he pressed his head against his chest and pressed his teary eyes shut to focus. He could feel the Devil getting closer. The heat worked its way through clothes, skin, and tissue until it gripped at your bones and sought to boil you alive.

His attention defiantly turned inwards, only Jarvis could see as the misshapen, ugly burning skull rose from the fire with a guttural screech. Zari held tight, trying to keep his comfort in Jarvis close. Its upper body came into view, sharp crooked ribs jutting in every hazardous direction. With a creaking motion, it's massive frame loomed across the chasm and it reached out with a fiery hand towards the two - but as it came closer a silence poured out from the pair. Separation. Through their combined effort, a distance was created. Isolation. Like black smoke, an aura of nothing spread outwards from them, dissolving even the furious and confused Devil's grasp as nothing more than a figment of the imagination.

It wasn't long before everything had turned black. There and then, they could not even see each other, only feel each other's presence in the darkness. Zari's little frame gently pushed away from Jarvis, and for a moment there was pure isolation as a feeling of falling came over them both. Zari was afraid, but he needed to do this. Jarvis deserved to see, and had to, should they ever resonate deeper than this.

The moment of silence passed, and their feet met cold concrete.

A basement room, all cement walls and floors. Mostly featureless, except for a thick metal door with a sliding panel for looking in and an adjacent grandfather clock nearing six o'clock. A short wooden stage, flecked with blood and partially splintered, stood across from the doorway. Two free standing torches were lit on either side of it, spreading the only light in the room. Most striking perhaps, was that any light spread had a vicious hue of red - as if no other color was allowed. It was dark in here as well, like the torches didn't actually serve to light up anything but themselves. Just barely, the outlines of younger Zari was visible, apprehensive and nervous, standing across from the wooden platform. The silence was complete, aside from the rhythmic ticking of the clock.

"Welcome back here."

A disembodied voice sounded out, echoing from the center of the stage. As if on cue, the torches flickered and revealed a second figure. Arms bound behind his back with leather restraint, sharp, jagged shackles around his ankles and wrists, an adult Azariah sat kneeled on the platform. Head hung forward, body only held aloft by the chains that bound him to the wall.

Spoiler: Mild Gore

The brief flicker of light was reflected in a series of long metal rods that protruded from his arms, interlocking them and no doubt causing excruciating pain should they be moved or shifted. Each violently injected with surgical precision to cause minimal permanent damage and maximal physical discomfort. He shifted weakly, and the motion caused a spray of blood to erupt from several of the holes, as well as a bead of sweat to appear at his forehead. The stench of iron permeated the air, and he let out a raspy breath.

Deep dark circles were revealed around his eyes as Azariah raised his head to look at his guest. There was none of his telltale doubt or neuroticism in his gaze, only tired despondence. "Make yourself comfortable. Nothing ever happens here." His attention shifted over to the awkward younger version of himself by the door. The younger version had his arms folded and nervously shifted his feet, but met his eyes curiously. With a nod of his head, the older boy beckoned the younger one closer, who quickly obliged and came to sit with his legs folded before him. With an unspoken mutual understanding, each of them leaned closer until their foreheads touched, and the older spoke from behind closed eyelids.

"Thank you, Jarvis. The storm should be over soon, then... we can leave this."

Interacted & Mentioned: QuirkyAngel The Regal Rper Sybil

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Eloise Keegan - Death Nova
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

As the light subsided, Eloise secured the scarab in its position within the necklace, fitting her own in place as Ulysses did to his. There was no turning back now, and his experience seemed to match hers with regard to the scarab absorbing their spirit. She could feel nothing after that brief moment, so she hoped her soul wouldn't be usurped in the middle of the night.

"Interesting, to say the least," Elly added to his remarks, before smirking at his quote. "Ah, a true poet after my heart~."

However, after that moment of haughtiness, she appeared to zone in on him with a stare more intent than before. She blinked a few times, as if discovering something entirely new. Elly could only somewhat compare it to the linking with a weapon, but it was still different, even to her Super Soul Perception. It was clear as a new T.V. There was no guesswork or prediction, it was just all there, like she had been watching cable and suddenly was exposed to high definition.

"Very interesting..." She murmured.

There was a lot to digest, a lot of information they hadn't even touched. This was like a fast track to syncing with a partner, albeit Eloise had never grown this close with hers. She was very deliberate with how great a link was developed. This was very useful to her as it completely eliminated any guesswork with Ulysses. However, there was the concern of the static of her own soul clearing up. Though it took a while, all her partners became able to parse through her wavelength enough to resonate. This additionally granted them insight to her soul and feelings as well, though that was shallow comparatively. If when he adjusted, he would see to the same extent as she was now--Well, that may cause some issues later on.

Hard to play a hand that you're constantly showing to the table.

"You're as taken aback as I, it seems," Elly commented aloud. "...Though you aren't seeing as much as myself, I presume. You're quite... bright."

Interactions: Sir Les Paul

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Adrian Hackney​

"The Maiden"​

Species Human
Partner None
Rank Fate Agent

Location Death City, near Oak Street South
Mission First Mission: Finding Shuumie
Status Alert, manic

​

Mentions: Prizzy Kriyze QuirkyAngel The Regal Rper Sybil

A harbinger of devastation
A storm instead of rain
A disturbance in stagnation
A harvester of pain

Death may be our God
But escape is an easy fate
Weakness we shan't applaud
Ours sins will carry weight

Strength comes from sorrow
Growth from despair
Bodies ache on the morrow
For my pain I shall share​

Pain.

Pain is my power.

Pain is the fate I bring onto others.

Pain is the tool by which I cleanse the world.

Adrian allowed his pain wavelength to flow freely. At any given time, he suppressed it to avoid afflicting others, and the guilt that came with it. This was no small effort, and it was strain he put upon himself just to function within society. He was a weapon. Not just a weapon. Not just an item for war. He was a being meant to cause agony. The Iron Maiden was a device of torture, and hardly mundane at that. Even when not in use, the chambers of the maiden existed to cause despair in those that saw them. This was his life. His reality. Existing as being to cause pain, discomfort, and despair. This is what he knew of himself, and he was about to embrace his true role in nature.

Self-Resonance was no easy task, either. To control half of one's very self and use the other to make it stronger. It meant dividing not only one's concentration, but their very self. Their core. It was a skill, true, but it was a poetic statement from Adrian all the same. As a person, he wanted recognition. He wanted to win. Victory. Acknowledgement. He wanted friends, too, he wanted those around him to enjoy being around him. Half his soul was that. But the other? The other was raw, primal core of inflicting this pain. The other was his nature state of existence that no one should ever take awe in as human nature should, when in sound mind, find it disturbing. Self-Resonance for him was finding a balance between who he was and who he wanted to be.

Zosar and Adra had created the opening. The distraction to the beast they fought. All he needed was this one chance, and unlike last time, he would not let it escape. Adrian was a sudden burst. A lightning bolt in the calm rain. His blue air streaked through the street like a neon light blazing on these pathetic corner streets for the depress and down-trodden. This speed was something neither of the other two Meisters could match, at least not alone. He was no assassin like their mentor, nor weapon of Death like the one that humbled the former, but in this moment, he was a terrifying creature in and of himself as he unleashed all of his amplified self to strike their target.

And so, he did.

Shuumie focused on the gouges created by Adra did not see him incoming. By the time he had reached her, both her hind legs had already been pierced through by the longest of spikes he could make on his left hand. Directly through the thighs, as if skewering an animal to cook above the flame. That, however, was not the most daunting act here. Like a syringe many of them had seen for those maddened or even those in this program during the early days, he injected her with a foreign substance. His wavelength. The essence of agony. It shot into her soul and with disparity in power caused by his self-resonance flooded into her. Alone, that would be uncomfortable for any living being. But, this was agony. This was hell.

Shuumie did not roar. She did not unleash some sonic burst. Shuumie did not breathe in this instance. This tremendous, overwhelming feeling compounded everything that had happened to her thus far. The strike from Zari earlier now felt like a thousand, the gouges in her back now felt like blades dicing her body, the spike through her was indescribable as that type of pain should not naturally exist. With this, there was a pause in the creature.

But, there was not a pause in Adrian. With his left hand, a beam of red light extended out generating another spike, and with it, he impaled her through the abdomen and began pulling his arms apart as if to rend her in twine. Should his comrades watch close, it would seem the weapon in front of them was the feral one, not the aquatic tigress they had been fighting. From his soul was a type of malice. He wanted to hurt her. Because his role. That was his duty. That his place in the team to cause and amplify the pain they did. So yes, he was malicious. His entire goal was to cause harm.

The second strike was enough to force Shuumie from fight to flight. Overwhelmed by stimulation, overwhelmed by pain that which no living being should endure, she dissolved her body. Much slower than last time; with Zari it was almost an instant, this time it was as if her body was liquifying. Almost desperately, she pulled herself from the car she was on with her half melted claws to try and escape the spikes of Adrian. Even then, the weapon did not relent. When she started to escape, three more spikes, albeit much smaller, burst from his chest to penetrate her watery form. It was unclear if this had any effect other than communicating his determination.

Shuumie did escape, however. It is not as if his spikes could dam a river. Once free from his spikes, her form changed again. No longer the tigress she was, now considerably smaller, comparable to a lynx, and leaving behind the water that composed the back half of her body to just fall inert. Shuumie then darted off to the alleys like any other alley cat would, trying to seek refuge in the shadows and escape from these monsters in her new lithe form.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Ulysses Stein​

"D-Stein"​

Species Human
Partner None
Rank One-Star

Location Death City, Central Main Street, Death-Nova
Mission None
Status Relieved, relaxed

​

Mentions: EmperorsChosen

"That is a matter of opinion, love," Ulysses responded with a confident smirk. It was true. She saw far more than him with far greater accuracy. In time, she might even be able to read that mind of his. But that wasn't the point. On a genuine note, he was elated because he could not see her soul, and more importantly, he could not see the scarab that connected them. "Bright? Well, depending on which of my siblings you're speaking to, that might not be how I would expect to be described. Still... I see plenty. And, what I see is perfect," he went on, slightly vague, but with his theatrics, that type of cliffhanger was sure to be followed.

"I see a new lens to view the faults of the DWMA. A pretty face, even if I'm sure she has two, and a soul that hides this scarab from me, even. If I can't see it, then you would have to run along someone equal to your own ability to do so, or maybe a genius like Emmett to touch you," he explained, a follow-up to what he meant earlier. His true colors here as a benevolent detective were showing. Excitement seethed in his words; a glee that could only be compared to a musician getting the guitar of his dreams.

"It is all stupendously interesting, isn't it?" he mused, picking his latte back up but not yet taking a sip. "A Stein trying to keep this whole organization in line pairing with a former mob queen? A red-eyed angel hoping he might just convince a blue-eyed outlawed to stay in line? A bond of trust built on deceiving others?" he continued on musically, almost a personal soliloquy. His tone was musical, almost. That voice that had entertained millions already now going over their situation in, as she might describe, honeyed words.

"Or, that you could this little heart of mine in an instant? he added, an odd but apt continuance of his musings. Even his soul didn't give much clarification to this somewhat vague comment.

"Nevermind that," he went on, clearing that last comment quickly. "After this, it is best we don't be seen with each other for a while. Your group won't be meeting up until a few weeks from now, so I needed to do this early to avoid suspicion. I know, it's sad, however will I go a day without those eyes fluttering at me... but the show must go on. I would offer you my number, but we shortly be able to just talk via the scarabs, and they can't monitor us that way," he continued, transitioning into a more serious explanation of events.

"It may be months before you see me again once you leave this table, and all the business has concluded... although I won't say I don't enjoy the company," he explained, "As I said, I do enjoy a challenge."

 

[The Regal Rper]

Zosar | Death City | South District

March 9th

Adrian's soul seemed to flare the moment he charged.

The metal plates that were a part of the soul seemed to gain a shinier polish as the Autonomous Weapon poured his wavelength into the strike that then pierced Shuumei's legs, leaving the creature paralyzed. What drew Zosar in however were the ways the souls reacted, reflecting each person's response. The pulsing of Adrian's soul, quickened like the heartbeat of an athlete about to start the biggest game or event of their day. Excitement, but this was fueled by something darker, bloodlust clearly.

In a lot of ways it reminded him of the training missions that Candidates were required to go through as a part of the testing process Icarus created for the more youthful Enlighteners. The bloodlust he felt coming off Adrian reminded him very much of the bloodlust he'd felt coming off members of the Shower Posse back in Jamaica, when both he, Mark, Hiroshi, Eustice, and several others had been assigned with supporting local law enforcement on a raid mission to storm a warehouse that the infamous gang had been using to perform some of the arms smuggling deals.

He hadn't had the pleasure of interacting with Adrian much. Zari and Jarvis had, so seeing this side of him was, while not surprising, gave Zosar pause to think about his next move.

He could see the intent, something else- the desire to want to inflict harm, to want cause pain there. To anyone else, it would have been disturbing, to Zosar it merely was something to keep himself aware of. The first strike's contact was immediate and Shuumei's soul responded accordingly. It shook and trembled, a sudden burst of agony and shock, mixed with terror all coalesced into the still beast, compounded by the pain he could practically feel radiating off both from that single strike.

A dark thought popped into Zosar's mind: If he was ever misfortunate to fight Adrian personally, a serious fight- killing him immediately would be beneficial than merely wounding him.

Zosar watched from the side, silently as the exchange continued. Wavelength flaring into his legs, his arms, ready to move if things went too far. He didn't mind torture when it was necessary, he'd expected it to be done to himself even when he'd been captured on some level. However their goal wasn't to torture the creature, so he could only really feel a brief moment of sympathy, something Adra might have actually sensed- when Adrian plunged his next spike into the creature again, through the abdomen.

DWMA really does attract all kinds of people. For even despite the sheer bloodlust that came from the exchange, even as Adrian tried to pull apart the acquatic tigress in a display of brutality, Zosar could also sense something more than just furious zeal and a thirsting desire to inflict harm. He also could see a deep desire to protect.

That alone, was enough for him. Adrian's wavelength clearly possessed an effect, just like Zari's had on Adra- they all seemed to have that in common. Their wavelengths sort of made them outliers. His was too strong and could cause more harm than good. Adrian's caused agony, and Zari's had some kind of drain on individuals it touched except Jarvis, albeit he was an Undead.

For the first time, Zosar realized, that this team he was in- was probably made up of the most people that could understand what it was like feeling as though the ability you were born with, somehow also defined you in a way that not even a Demon Weapon might fully understand.

It was...comforting, even if the situation was morbid.

Shuumei's state of dissolvement and escape was a testament to it- and as soon as she peeled off- Zosar said: "Let's let her go far enough. I can sense her. We'll track her down and finish this."

Hopefully we'll also be able to find whatever litter she's left behind.

With his Perception range he could keep her in his radar as long as he kept up pace. Even with the weak link he had with Adra, it was still something that gave him a minor boost. Saying his piece and then turning his attention to keeping up with the fleeing beast, Zosar took off after her. Eager to ensure they didn't loose their catch

Mentions: N/A

Interactions: Sir Les Paul Prizzy Kriyze QuirkyAngel Sybil

 

[Merciless Medic]

Noah Wiley​

March 11, 2067
Location: Colosseum
Interactions: Gauss and Thea ( Sir Les Paul ), Prudence ( Mqueserasera ), Nadia ( RedArmyShogun ), Dani ( EmperorsChosen )
Mentions: Rand, Emmett

Coffee in hand, Noah was busy talking to Sara after Emmett had left when she came in. In all her glory, she came in and went off like a firecracker to Gauss. Sensing Sara’s discomfort, the werewolf moved away as Noah walked towards the opening and watched with a hooded gaze. Why did this woman think it was okay to bother her brother like this? He remembered those memories and Noah had no room to wonder of their validity when the evidence was right here. In front of him. Talking everyone’s ears off and putting down Gauss like he were a beaten, broken puppy.

What hurt more was knowing that Viraj wasn’t here. His father wasn’t here to watch his own son. Oh, did his blood boil. This wasn’t how anyone should be talked to if they were to be better. This was how their shit behaviors were perpetuating and it was this cycle of negativity that Noah had been shown to by his own therapist.

He walked in, his unoccupied hand clenching and his soul wanting to buzz and crackle to generate electricity, but he had no juice left in him to do so. He didn’t know who this bitch was, he only vaguely knew that she was slightly popular, but that didn’t matter.

“Hey, he is trying, you-” his insult was interrupted when Dani threw the plate at Thea, screaming at her to keep her out of it. Noah was about to step in when Zelda, who wasn’t there before, appeared in a flash.

Zelda Zemo​

Zelda, who was irritated with Rand’s message from earlier and wanted to speak to him in person and was already seething at the bloodsport, had watched the entire thing unfold. While she didn’t mind if her own students fought with one another and learned about each other and themselves through arguments, this stepped over the line. All she did was take a step as soon as she saw Dani throw the plate. With an outstretched hand and stopping just shy of Thea’s position, she grabbed the plate, going from the hall that led to the dugout to stand right beside Thea in a calm, swift movement. With a cool demeanor, her voice spoke authority. Calm, yet firm. Stern, yet non-confrontational.

While her action was to prevent Thea from getting hit by a plate, her next actions proved to be against Thea. Zelda was way too close for comfort. The unwelcoming aura was palpable from her as she spoke in a cool fashion. Enough to even make Noah balk and stand down, his eyes wide.

"It's okay, Dani, Noah. Galerender is done here. Right, Thea?" While her tone wasn’t outright malicious, it was obvious there was no room for discussion. She held the plate in the crook of her arm as she slowly looked at Thea. Due to her height, she was able to look down on her, her gaze of a fellow three-star looking disapprovingly upon Thea. If she looked like Viraj’s own disappointed stare, she’d rather have Thea move her insults onto her than any of her students. Whilst she spoke again, Noah went to stand beside Gauss. He set a hand on his meister’s shoulder as an attempt to silently comfort and give him some support. While he was still upset with Gauss, he wasn’t going to let some bitch talk down to him like that. His gaze stayed on Thea, not leaving her figure until she left.

“The next round is about to start.” She said simply, giving a professional excuse as to why Thea wasn’t allowed to visit anymore, but clearly not trying to make a scene and make herself look bad. She was just doing her job.

And that included helping the well-being of her students.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Sara & Midori​

Things were escalating with Gauss and his sister. Why was his sister like that? Before she could do much of anything, Noah was already doing something and so was Zelda. To continue crowding around someone like Thea was not a smart move, so Sara decided to just leave Gauss’ weapon and their mentor to handle it. Zelda seemed way more irritated than usual, as well. She wondered why.

The brackets had changed, as Sara had seen. Her opponent dropped the fight, only to be replaced by another who would prove to be more of an issue than her former opponent. And her weapon partner dropped, as well. Wondering if she should just fight the witch solo or risk finding a weapon partner that may or may not work upon resonating, Sara walked away from the debriefing room. Then again, Sara was a rather easy meister to resonate with, as she did a lot of the work for the weapon and then evened it out for a more balanced resonance and strong connection. At least, that’s what she does as a habit due to the people she resonated with in the past. Either way, she decided to head to the stands, find her family again or just see if she found anyone familiar.

Maybe Zosar was in the stands.

Not having an idea of what happened to Zosar, Sara began roaming the stands. That’s when she smelled a familiar scent. It wasn’t Zosar’s, but it was another from Team Arrow who she felt the most sympathy for. A rather unique soul; one the likes Sara had only smelled once. Midori?

Midori was, in fact, in the stands. Not necessarily alone, either. He was surrounded by a few of his clansmen, so he was here with the Hoshi. At present, he was just reviewing through messages on his phone in a slump. Given he wasn’t a mentor directly for anyone involved, he wasn’t really kept in the loop, so at present, he was waiting just like everyone else.

Seeing a familiar face from Team Arrow had Sara excited. She waved her hands at Midori, probably looking like a right idiot or maybe a fangirl as she yelled to get his attention. "Hey, Midori, it's Sara! Been awhile!" She would go up there, but she wasn't sure if the Hoshi Clan would approve of that. If this embarrassed him, she didn't really care, it was funny in her mind.

Midori looked over at her once she called his name. His head snapped quickly up and it took him a brief moment to register who she was. Another Fate Agent, not one of his team. He smiled softly, then raised his hand for a gentle wave. It only took about this long to recall her name. He focused primarily on the members of his team, so memorizing everyone wasn’t quite on his agenda.

”Hey-a,” he replied back, not really sure of how to make this conversation flow. ”Yeah, we keep busy. Just finished our first mission,” he added, explaining his recent events.

Eyes lighting up at the idea of a mission, Sara was now intrigued. What Sara thought was going to a brief hello now turned into a want to have a conversation that stretched for some time. She ran up to his level and grinned, her tail wagging playfully. “What mission was it? Hunting?”

”Well, technically yes, although not really a traditional hunt,” he answered. He then waved her up to his little portion of the stands. Some of the Hoshi had left their seats earlier, and beside that, they weren’t really that against others just sitting by them. They simply sat together akin to how a family sits together to view a movie. But, given there was downtime, he could talk. ”If you’re curious, might as well not be half the arena away,” he told her, although obviously exaggerated on her distance. Unlike the other mentors, and potentially due to his age, Midori was a little more open to talk.

Her guess being correct had elated her mood. She didn’t need to be asked twice either when being gestured to sit next to him. She practically weaved her way right next to him, her eyes alight with curious wonder as she slightly faced towards him with most of her body as she plopped down beside him. “What did you guys go out for? Did you have to capture or kill it? What was it like?” Her rapid-fire questions were only slowed down just slightly so he may understand.

”A magical creature imported from South Africa. She had a litter and was defending them, but ran away from her new home. The mission was to capture them safely, and happened near the residential district,” he explained to her, keeping up with her rapid-fire questions. He was a fairly well-spoken individual, when he wasn’t trying to kill Cyrus such as the last time Sara would have seen him.

South Africa? That was a new place. She blinked a few times, her curiosity not faltering. “Oohh, that must have been fairly difficult.” It was very common knowledge that anything with children was far more dangerous than one without. “What was it? Like, you know the species name or nah?”

”The species is pretty common. They’ve become quite abundant in certain areas, and people catch them to resell as pets. It was banned at one point, but their population has grown enough that regulations have lifted–until another solution is found. They are called Felis Milagua, and are generally a fairly content species… until they have young. Which is rare as they typically don’t reproduce in captivity,” he explained to her, yet again answering her questions as quick as she could spit them out.

A sort of amazed awe spilled from her as she listened to what it was. Felis Milagua? She should ask her dad about it. Her mind, ever failing to stick to the present, suddenly reminded her of why she was out here. “Oh, I forgot. Brackets have changed. My weapon and our opponent dipped. My opponent’s replaced with this witch lady who… Kinda gives me dragon vibes. And I dunno if I should go at her alone or…” She trailed off, shrugging as she faced the arena more and leaned forwards, elbows on her knees. “Ah, oh well. I’ll figure it out.” Then the thought occurred that she may not be permitted to fight if she didn’t get a weapon partner. Her eyes furrowed before deadpanning and sighing. “Well, that is, if I’m even allowed to fight without a weapon. I’d like to, but it might end up being a werewolf cage match fight and I’d rather at least match the witch in power. It seems she’s stronger than most we’ve seen out of the group yet.”

Sara described her predicament, but more importantly described who she was going up against. Then, Midori knew. It was hard not to know given how many strings Rand was pulling for her, and the backroom talk about nepotism. ”Hydra. She’s a Hydra. Her name is Iris, and it is borderline suicide for you to fight her alone,” Midori explained in a quick change of tone. He was serious. Dry. More similar to the mentors now than before.

One of his beloved cousins, a pale-skinned girl probably closer to Sara in age but with a vile scowl on her face and the traditional starry eyes of the Hoshi, opted to perk up for a quick quip, “Suicide, you say? Now that might be interesting..” She was obviously not satisfied by what she had thus far seen, but then even Hoshi sparring matches would be more eventful than these.

Sara tilted her head at the new addition to their conversation. If it really was better to be paired up, then who should she pair up with? Deciding to be bold, her traditional smirk played upon her face and she looked at Midori with a fiery, determined gaze. “Well, I can make a fight interesting, but I’m gonna need a weapon partner.” She was looking directly at Midori. Staring at him, even. “How about you, yeah? I’m quite easy to resonate with and there’s not any weapons I can ask to be my partner for this.”

Clearly, Sara knew not what she was asking. Clearly, Sara had no idea about Midori, his history, or what it meant to be paired with him. However, Midori was also just as bored as his cousin, and at first glance, Sara wouldn’t gain any significant advantage in having him as her ally, if she was capable. However, he was curious. Very curious. He gave her a quizzical look before asking, ”Sara, do you even know what type of weapon I am?”

Sara grinned so wide, memories coming back to her from their introduction to the mentors. “Do you remember back in Lot C when you were telling everyone in your team who you were and your story? Since nobody was doing that in Team Stitches and my ears were too good, I decided to eavesdrop on everyone’s stories. I know exactly what you are and what you’ve gone through. A death golem, yet human with a touch of Kidd’s soul. You also shift weapons. Yes, I know what you are and how you became you.” She said with no less enthusiasm as she had with her inquiry on Shuumie. She even giggled. “Please, please, let’s see if it’s even possible.” Her tail was practically a blur with how fast it wagged.

Midori pondered this idea. He wasn’t even sure if it would be allowed. While true Sara would likely at least be able to wield one of his forms, particularly his bident form given her experience with Noah, there was one issue he needed to address. A certain mentality that was almost always necessary when dealing with a Hoshi, such as himself. Something not every Meister found acceptable. ”I will ask Cyrus if this is acceptable, if and only if you think you are capable. But that includes one thing I’m not sure if you can handle. To effectively wield me, you must be willing to kill. It may not be in the nature of the tournament, but Meisters that don’t have the resolve will often find my blades dull, my slashes weak, and my ability to help them significant. If you falter, we may even reject. Not quite like Gauss and Noah did, but it won’t be pleasant,” he explained to her.

Well, that was sure an interesting surprise. Sara’s excitement finally faltered, though there was an intense contemplation on her features. Her form seemed to still almost completely, as if someone flipped the switch that was to her energy output. Finally, after a few moments, she smirked. Though, it didn’t hold mischievousness or innocence. It was almost as if a predator was showing their teeth. “Midori. I’m a werewolf. Our bloodlust makes us willing to kill, even if we are just sparring or fighting for sport with no actual deaths. I have the constant need to tear flesh and watch blood flow when I’m fighting and I have found some form of balance. While my clan may have culturally severed ties to our ways from centuries ago to follow peace, you can’t take the hunter out of our genetics. It is what we are. Once we resonate, or at least attempt, you will see. While I have kept my bloodlust at bay, I nearly curb stomped Gauss while at the lot when I let go. If Cyrus wasn’t there, I would have smashed him to the dirt and transformed. Hopefully, egging on my bloodlust won’t cause a transformation.” Despite the small smile, her tone was serious. Considerations have been taken and she wasn’t going to just throw caution to the wind and do it the wrong way.

“I don’t just have experience with staves, but also most melee weapons. Including swords.” She made that a point. She stood up, fully expecting to leave at this moment to try this out so they weren’t taking up so much of the stands. She then smirked and gave him a teasing look. “You gonna try and slice him up, or are you gonna send him a text?” She chuckled, wanting to poke fun at how he showed himself to the group that first day.

It was not Midori who responded. It was that cousin of his, a girl clearly more judgmental than her mentor of a cousin. While Sara spoke, her eyes were as cold as ice, and her voice as chilled as the river Styx. “Feral bloodlust, girl, is different than the ability to kill in cold blood. To stare down a target with a sound mind and a calm heart, and choose to end their life is not the same as indulging your urges,” she told her, absolutely cutting through her speech and more so interrupting anything Midori might have responded with.

Sara looked at the girl, her eyes showing a sort of glee and her ears not pinned back, but facing straight at her. She wasn’t afraid of her. “Feral bloodlust is the gateway to kill in cold blood.” Sara calmed down some, but it was obvious by the tension in her body that she was still giddy. “While I was training in the Amazing Star Dojo, I was told that it is easier to train with the mindset of killing your trainer. Not to actually kill them, but if you were to go on missions to kill, you have to be capable of killing. No hesitation. My uncle taught me much the same. Is it not similar?”

“It is no–” she attempted to respond, but Midori in that moment spiked his wavelength, releasing a chilling burst of his own soul. She stopped. Not out of fear, but out of respect for him as a Hoshi. This situation was not hers to command beyond that outburst of her opinion.

”I will ask Cyrus, and we will see. Philosophy aside, we won’t know unless we test it,” Midori said aloud with a sense of finality to his tone. It seemed he was more so aimed at making a point to his cousin, but the words held value to Sara as well. His wavelength died down quite quick, par the course for Midori. He, alongside the other Hoshi were at least well-known for their silent, and at times, untrackable souls.

”Without emotion in your heart, to stare down someone and know you are the reason their heart shall not beat again. I will admit, in defense of my cousin, that is different,” he explained to her, voicing his opinion. ”But to say you could not wield me because you have not done that, or to imply you couldn’t, or to even say I am expert enough to know that your werewolf instincts aren’t sufficient for my assassin soul… that is arrogance,” he added, illuminating that while he did disagree with Sara on principle, he did not believe that minor difference would be enough to prevent her from wielding him.

With a gentle smile, just as before, and in stark contrast to the flare he just released, he told her this, ”I will text you Cyrus’ decision. If he approves it, we’ll learn together, won’t we?”

Sara grinned, thankful that Midori was willing to try. While it may be different and she couldn’t deny that, all she needed was a resonance for this one battle. To those who can perceive it, her soul was jittery in excitement and vibrations, but also held a calm resolution. Something within her brewed, her growing bloodlust that stayed under the soil of her happy-go-lucky forest with calm, happy breezes and warm sun rays that feel like hugs. She smirked at his question, her eyes narrowing as if he challenged her or the idea. “Oh, we will. Since you’re a mentor, you can guide too. I tend to do a lot of the legwork in my resonations, but I know we basically just met so I don’t really need resonation techniques. But we’ll see.”

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Thea Thales​

"Galerender"​

Species Human
Partner Herakles
Rank Three-Star

Location Death City, Death Colosseum, Right Wing
Mission N/A
Status Irate, bitchy

​

Mentions: Merciless Medic Mqueserasera EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun

Oh, look at all these little white knights running in to defend Thaddeus. It was adorable. Not that she hadn't seen it before. Years back, some of his friends--and more commonly, fuck buddies--would do the same. Defend him, tell her that's wrong, explain just how out of line she was. But, guess what? She was right. Thaddeus was just using them. For training. To get better. To push his rank further, get on better missions. Sometimes, maybe, just to stroke his ego with companionship or his absurd idea of deviant intimacy. That was her little brother. That was the abomination of a human being sitting there. That was Viraj incarnate.

She had no doubt in her mind that this very moment, this scene was just a replay of the last one. It didn't matter whether they were just pissed off at her, or if he was sleeping with one of them, fact of the matter was, each one of them to Thaddeus was just another tool to get out of this program. Despite her attitude, she actually felt a tinge of genuine sympathy. Noah, the one rushing over to him? That was his weapon. One of them, at least; of course the little bastard had a few. Noah was just another stepping stone to his goals. Noah was just going to be tossed away at the first chance for a more suitable weapon for the next mission to get Thaddeus some fame.

Noah thought he was Thaddeus' friend. Thing was, little Thaddeus didn't actually have friends.

"I guess I'm done then, huh, ice bitch?" Thea said, not an ounce of respect in her tone. She backed off from them a bit, hand on her hip like she was the queen of sass and shook her head as if shaking off condescension like water. "You'll all see. From ice bitch to pinky, you'll see what little Thaddeus is all about," she said before walking off, intentionally reiterating the name pinky just to further enrage Dani--given what she did the first time she said it.

Thea let her waltz out of the room be theatrically slow, and as she did, all Gauss mumbled in response to everything that had occurred from the thrown plate to Zelda's intervention was, "She's right... don't be mad at her." He just sat there, face still in hands so that no one could see him. She, however, strutted out smirking.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Midori☆Hoshi​

"Dark Star"​

Species Death Golem
Partner Various / Autonomous Weapon
Rank Two-Star

Location Death City, Death Colosseum, Stands
Mission N/A
Status Intrigued

​

Mentions: QuirkyAngel

After his interaction with Sara, Midori wondered precisely what his team was doing. Most, if not all of them, were supposed to be here. He saw Zosar earlier, but upon scanning the crowd, the Meister was nowhere in sight. Adrian was down near the front rows about as close as he could feasibly get, and he seemed to be enjoying the stadium food during this intermission. A lot of others did as well, it made sense given this was likely the only interruption in these brief matches. Zari was yet to be seen, but Midori did admittedly stop looking for him once he saw Jarvis. Or, more accurate, who Jarvis was with.

He didn't know who she was, but... he wanted to. He enhanced his vision to get a closer look at things, but then came up something very, very interesting. He couldn't make out her soul. At all. Yet he saw her plain as day. This could typically only mean two things. Soul Protect that didn't mask the soul, or she was insanely good--Hoshi level good--at suppressing her Soul. In either case, Midori was not about to miss out on this mystery.

Jarvis left her behind, for whatever reason. Midori would assume food, so was this Jarvis' girlfriend? If so, Death-Damn man, that's impressive. Wouldn't leave my coffin either. But, that also didn't seem to match the profile he had of the Blood Sucker, and again these compounding mysteries only made Midori more curious. With Jarvis gone, he could at least introduce himself, maybe uncover some of these new mysteries.

And, because Midori isn't always the best at decision making--when combat isn't involved--that's precisely what he opted to do.

Making his way down the stands to where Jarvis previously was, he took a seat beside the woman Jarvis had brought alone and tried to sense what he could, but genuinely could not pick up anything. Oh, it was too much. He had to break the silence, even if his presence already alerted her.

"I am absurdly curious," Midori said, making sure he was within earshot of Valerija. "Attractive woman whose soul I can't see talking to one of my Fate Agents... Jarvis doesn't seem like the type to have a secret witch girlfriend, so I'm all out of guesses," he added, in a calm and somewhat jovial tone. He wasn't threatening at all, in fact he came across as far more flirtatious than one looking to start a fight. He made sure at the least to name-drop Jarvis, and ideally communicate he was his mentor--or at least a superior of some kind.

Now just to see how this unfolded...

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Rand & Iris

Rand listened to the rantings of Maria as she went on. She was also rightfully frustrated with the attempt at Resonance, but more so it seemed she didn’t understand the importance of this tournament. A farce, she thought, but there was value in this. They were not displayed like livestock at a market. This was not a puppet show. Rand knew this well after his time in the mortal realm: it was not the person at the top that pulled all the strings. Maba was Queen inarguable of the Witches, but Kidd did not have that same immutable power here.

”You are free to visit whomever, but the Colosseum itself is in fact on lockdown, so just don’t leave grounds,” he answered her. Though, with a cold stare to her, and then more so a directed glance at the rest of the Mages, he announced this, ”You may believe this to be a farce, or that these are meant to be honorable duels, but that belief is incorrect. Not every battle you fight is to win, and not every victory is earned by defeating someone. This is just the first many times you will have the opportunity to make a statement that you are all worth the effort. There are those that would rather see each and every one of you just vanish into the wind and call that problem solved.”

”I know this because I was once that exact problem. I know exactly what it is like to just not fit in or not be the norm or not be accepted, whether it’s my fault or not–and in my case, it was truly in part my own fault,” he explained to each one of them. ”No, I am not happy that Resonance techniques were pulled out so quick. No, I am not happy that a tournament of all things–especially this soon–is how we’re making a statement. But how we feel about this is irrelevant,” he added, continuing on with no small amount of passion in his tone.

”This is an opportunity not just for us, either, but every other group there is, and the ones that follow. You’re not out there fighting to entertain the masses. You’re out there to scream, shout, and prove that you are not lost causes. By demonstrating your excellence, such as Maria with her incredible dollwork, you make it undeniable to them that you can be stars of your generation, and better the ones to follow,” he continued on, not just reiterating the points that were made to him about this, but explaining his mindset. His perspective. Someone else who was once in their shoes and in turn understood his place in the world.

He then breathed in deep, and calmed himself. He was frustrated. Perhaps he allowed that to bleed over into his speech. Perhaps seeing Resonance and feeling like information was withheld–that he was deceived–had him address this notion that this tournament was a meaningless form of entertainment too harsh. On reflection, this was probably true. Even then, it did not make his points any less valid. The people in this tournament had something to prove, and those in the audience were the ones they needed to prove it to.

“Hah, yeah, really gotta break ‘em in to the concept huh?” The harsh tone cut in after Rand finished. Accompanied by the rough slamming of a door against a wall, Iris appeared in the doorway, one hand throwing the peace sign and the other actively being wrapped with a bandage she held between her teeth. “What’s up fellow disappointments, heard you’ve been stomping meisters.” She nodded towards Maria and threw a single finger gun in Ark’s direction.
Her disposition was unusually sunny. Perhaps it was the dash of respect the school had shown her in letting her take up a “normal” position as a student, or perhaps it’d just been the light unscrewing of her seal that kept her spirits high. She’d spared no time in trying it out either, as proven by the light discoloration of blood already adorned the knuckles of her bandaged arms. She bent her step immediately towards Rand, where she finally cracked her knuckles and met his eyes. “Thanks for convincing the fam about the seal, by the by. It’s been working like a charm. So! Who do I get to break?”

”Heh, fam. Seems you’ve taken to social media well,” Rand responded with an uncharacteristic chuckle, only juxtaposed more by the previous comment he made. ”Sara, the werewolf, and it appears Midori will be her weapon, if you remember him. I believe he hit on you when I introduced you,” Rand answered her question, quick and to the point with an added piece of information about her temporary weapon solution.

”Ah, and yes, the concept is… rough. In this flawed world of ours, who are they to tell us we are more flawed?” he said, almost mocking the counterpoint to his current position on the matter. Rand stepped down from the slightly elevated stone stairs that lead out to the arena, then walked over to Iris. The height difference became much more obvious at this point, and the reality they were somehow related became more questionable. ”I heard you picked up a few new spells after we weakened one of those seals. Crazy how that works, huh?” he commented, again about as rhetoric as the last time.

“Midori, the fucking, uh, teacher?” Iris inquired with an annoyed bend in her eyebrow that soon disappeared as she threw her hands up into a shrug and a sly, superior smile returned to her features. “Just more motivation to punch ‘im in the face, I guess. And yeah, more to the point, I had to be tricky to figure out a good avenue for the effect I intended.” She raised her right fist, palm side up, and placed her left hand on her right lower bicep, proud of whatever trick she’d managed to conjure. “Got it down to an art now though, I’d like to hear if you figure out how it works afterwards.”

”Oh, dear cousin, absolutely; I would love to hear about your idea of fine art later,” he replied, clearly joking and taking the interaction far less intensely than last time.”With those seals weakened, I’m sure in time you’ll figure out more intricate magic. Your mother relies almost entirely on what she can do innately, or with her court. Wasted potential, in my opinion; forgive the familial slander,” he explained, although she likely knew she had room to grow. The shot at her mother, though, likely wasn’t expected out of his mouth.

“Fuck ‘em. Never cared, never asked, but I figure it’d be funny to put ‘em to shame if I could. Whatever,” She turned around to leave. Iris didn’t like to speak about - or even think about - her family on the best of days, and even if today was shaping up to be alright she wasn’t looking for a buzzkill. “You’ll see it in action - see if you still wanna talk shit about biomancy. Shit’s hard as hell.”

”Probably even more so than blood magic or constructs,” Rand responded, commenting on her point about biomancy. It seemed her social battery–at least for him–was reaching its limits, and Rand knew his place. ”Talk anyone you like, I guess. Your match is the final one, so you have time,” he told her, informing her of essentially the last pertinent detail regarding her new involvement in the tournament.

”Good luck when it comes, but I doubt a One-Star has a chance against Mabian blood,” he said, a genuine gesture of good faith, but also demonstrating his pride in their bloodline.


RedArmyShogun Meredith Merciless Medic The Regal Rper Prizzy Kriyze

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nadia Semyonov - Death City, The Colosseum​

As Dani went out on her attack, she rather doubted she was defending Gauss, so much as showing her frustration at the situation as she hurled her plate. It was then that Nadia recalled just who this woman was. Family drama aside, it was curious she had been let in here. An attribute she laid at the wealth that Thaddeus seemed to have. "Heh.." Grabbing Dani by the shoulder she yanks the girl back a bit before putting another hand on other shoulder, standing solidly behind her partner to hold her back as Zelda delt with the situation.

"Dani. Don't." With that single warning she did not lower her hands till the other was out. "As if I need that warning." She had been on guard against Gauss as soon as she figured out his nature based on what he himself had confirmed. It was why she made a point of calling him Thaddeus rather than Gauss that he seemed to like. She would not be taken in by some Siren's Song like a love-struck sailor to their doom. Once she was out, Nadia turned her head to look at Gauss and said what was on her mind, what she cared to say.

"I know not why your family even cares to know one another if your family seems to be this way. Why Daddy's favorite matters when you all clearly have such venom for one another. But if you wish to sit here feeling sorry for yourself, I frankly don't care. Go die in some ditch. I will Survive as I always have, and I won't be going down for any of you."

With that she shook her head. "I'm going out there to win, so I can claw some chance of climbing out of this hell your betters put me in. I did what was needed to be done, when they tried to control me like a dog on a leash. The DWMA these days has truly fallen far, what even is it now, marketing for magic toys?" This bit was clearly aimed at Zelda and any who would listen at all. With that she heads back for the door having lost all reason to be in here.

"Let's leave this place Dani, I highly doubt it is helping your condition. And the match will be soon after all."

Interactions: EmperorsChosen Technically though leaving quickly Sir Les Paul Merciless Medic

 

[Sybil]

Adrasteia Chandrice

Nothing had been easy, but damn did the weapon sometimes wish things would smooth out. Just for a moment, but every step felt like a part of a square dance to nowhere. She had fallen into the fetal position inside her pitch black space being the inside her weapon form, her mind running a mile a minute. If she was capable of perceiving souls or emotions on an ability level she might just have noticed the familair yet different sensation of bloodlust from Adrian or concern from
Zosar. She could not however, and her own struggles kept her from realizing much of anything going on around her. The only thing able to be done was shrinking her spikes once more to barely small bumps, which meant her handle was now harmless to hold. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how Zosar looked at it, even her blades remained dull. She was just a chain with dulled blades now, heavy and awkwardly weighted as her emotions began to peak.

First the arrest. Then the confinement. Then the PAIN program… then the confinement…. The forced treatment…. The Re-education…. Then the struggle to get a chance to go back into the field…. Then partnering…. Then madness broke out…. Then the fucking worthless days spent spinning my wheels… and now I get fucking burned by an ally during a CAPTURE mission???! THIS IS INSANE, I’M NOT THE MAD ONE, THE FUCKING WORLD IS! THIS IS SHIT! THE FUCKING ENVIRONMENT IS MADNESS AND IM THE ONLY SANE THING IN IT THINKING IM CRAZY! FUCK!

The weapon again agonized, dragged into their past once more. It was all a cycle to their mind, the events she endured feeling like cruel play. She whimpered from frustration, gritting her sharp teeth as she rolled over onto all fours. She couldn’t take it, the thoughts. She needed a dam, a stop to it. Control. She needed something to stop it. Why couldn’t the world just present this solution after it made so many problems?

It was those thoughts that changed everything. The weapon’s mind went still for just a spare moment. Her yellow eyes widened as she let out a deep breath through barley parted shark teeth. It was like a damn had quickly built between her and her consciousness, holding back her confusion and anger for a clear singular moment.

…. The world has never given me shit…. That’s right…. It has to be me…. Me. I’m the one in control…. I decide this fucked up play…. Not some teacher or mentor or fucking therapist. I do. I work out. I build myself up. No meister will provide me what I need. I am the one. ME.

The demon weapon then felt the rush of the thoughts breach them once more as the moment of revelation passed, but this time they acted. They raised their head up, slamming it down on the incorporeal floor they rested upon minutes ago. She bashed her head against it once… twice… thrice… she yelled loudly as the pain surged through her system. Her whip form twitched and contorted to her mayhem, all before going calm. The weapon grit her teeth and stood up, walking through her calm mind techniques before finally slowing her breathing. She forced herself through it, not giving the intrusive swarm of thoughts time to gather once more. She caught her breath and then came the serene scenery as she envisioned her ideal setting to relax. She remembered the incessant words of the professionals teaching her the ways to combat in Calm Mind Training, for once her memory providing her with something useful. As she continued she began to suppress her mind’s chaos, but she felt different this time. Unlike almost a week or so ago when madness broke out amongst FATE, today she felt like it was… deeper. Like a pool of water that was a puddle now became a small pond. Something clicked finally, all it took was a mission with complications that she couldn’t lash out during. At least one might make that assumption like her teammates who looked from the outside. She finally felt the seal form as she reached beyond what she had done before during her training, forcing the madness to fafe for the first time for years. Nothing artificial like her collar, only pure and honest like a breath of fresh air after breathing fumes for years.

With that she focused on the outside, watching Zosar. Her connection to him, that thing strand of a bond. She took a hold of it and finally put effort into it. She had been holding back progress. Sure they couldn’t just suddenly resonate at their best, but it sure felt more fluid and strong than the weakened bond before. Once she put forth the effort she opened her mouth to speak coherently for the first time in awhile.

“Let’s get this over with, I owe that blonde tattooed fucker a right hook to the jaw.”

coded by: @s e v e n

Interacts: The Regal Rper
Mentions: Prizzy Kriyze Sir Les Paul

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Daniella Ethalyn - Nadia Semyonov
The Colliseum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

"The fuck she is, fucking edgelord bitch-" Dani began, and continued with vulgarities. Her hand had instinctively shifted into a blade to prove her point, or at least showcase her displeasure with the arrogance of the other.

Thankfully for all involved, Nadia was holding her back.

As the woman left, Dani growled something about her seeing a foot, or something else, wedged somewhere in retort. Ultimately, she didn't need to wait and see. Gauss and her never really interacted, and what could be called an interaction wasn't pleasant. Everything else she saw just pissed her off.

She might have agreed with Thea, if Dani didn't see such an unbearable fucking resemblance. Though the woman perhaps disgusted her if only a tad more.

Mikey and her may not have totally alike, and may have ripped into each other at times, but it was always with better intentions than just to be a bitch. They were supposed to try to look out for their younger siblings, even if they failed spectacularly like her. These two were alive, nipping at each other's ankles just to be a pain. What the hell was wrong with that family?

Regardless, Dani calmed, or just seethed in place, until Nadia said her piece and left. Dani followed with a click of her tongue, not wanting to give het own "words of consolation". Though once they were out, Dani did have some words for her partner.

"The fuck you mean don't?" She asked, hands shoved discontentedly in her pockets. "That fucking princess could use a bump on the head! I'd be doing her a fucking favor."

“And she would break you for it.” Nadia said simply and plainly to the protests of Dani. “To be more spot on that bratty princess is one of the top five partnerships in the DWMA. A three star. I would be hard pressed to beat her though she is only a weapon. You would activate your collar or be left on the floor bleeding. A time and a place Dani, a time and a place. We must be come stronger yet still.”

"One good hit'd be worth it…" Dani growled in response. "I'm getting real tired of your 'time and place' shit. Like I'm supposed to sit there and ignore getting prodded with a fucking stick."

“I never said you had to ignore it, but for the here and now we can’t do much to her. If you wish to be a bear after all they too pick battles carefully.”

With that she waves them onwards. “For now we need to find Maria, but it should be noted that we cannot go into their end of the arena, so the best bet may be in searching the halls leading from there to the main observation, she might be kept till the match is over, so we will need to see.”

Dani made a sound of displeasure, something between a click of her tongue and a scoff. However, she abstained from further argument, which was as much of a concession as Nadia was likely to get.

"They should be getting her a fucking doctor… pricks," Dani grumbled.

“Well Thaddeus was bleeding like a butchered cow and they didn’t send anyone for him. Plus knowing Maria I doubt she would accept a Medic. We could split up and search for them, or stay together, aid stations or the halls or VIP booths are my bet.” Nadia said with a shrug.

That only pissed her off more, not specifically with Gauss, but Dani hadn't thought about that either. They really didn't give a shit. It instilled in her further that those above them were absolute douchebags.

Dani let out a huff at that. "Whatever. I'm fucking off this way then," She simply stated before proceeding down one of the halls.

Since coming to this damnable program, her attitude had taken a turn for the worse than when she was on her own. Perhaps a little time to cool off by herself would do her some good.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Raphael Valerias​

March 11, 2067
Location: Colosseum
Interactions: Ark ( The Regal Rper , Iris ( Prizzy Kriyze ), Rand ( Sir Les Paul )
Mentions: Chanterelle, Gauss, Noah, Prudence, Maria

The answer given from Ark had him nodding quietly. Raphael flashed Ark a smile, though it seemed forced. “I wasn’t gonna penny pinch your father now.” His forced smile melted into a more genuine one as he said his grandmother would help with his chain magic. Did she have some idea on chains or metal in general? That sounded like a wonderful step in the right direction. While he was seeing Ark more and more like a friend, a part of him couldn’t shake the idea that he liked using Ark as a stepping stone to get better. To become famous like he was.

However, his attention was pulled back to the monitors as the bastard in the sky continued to play keepaway while the dollmaker had to improvise. It must have been painful using her dolls like stepping stones. While Raphael wouldn’t have cared if he had to do the same, even with real people who may or may not care about him, he wasn’t blind to how much Maria adored her dolls to the point of subconsciously considering them real. Or something as an attachment to.

While it was difficult for Raphael to attach to people or objects like how others seem to do it with ease (or too fast for his liking), he did at least understand in others what he lacked to an extent. In fact, it was something he envied. He always used his former friends to get drugs and booze and to have a fun time. The tradeoff was making them happy and giving them favors to keep them so they would consider him dependable, funny, and likable. Now that he’s had therapy and removed himself from his previous life, it was getting more and more difficult to not abandon everything and go back to being it.

His ruminations were interrupted when there was a bright flash on the screen, and he can hear the electricity threaten the shield in large arcs of light. Something didn’t seem right. He didn’t fully know what a resonance entailed, but he at least understood what it looked like. Was that resonance though? Wasn’t it supposed to be controlled? Not all over the place like that?

Still, the explosion from the doll and the lightning blast was a spectacle, but he wondered just how hurt they were. He watched the screen as Maria was found and was supported by the dolls that were left. Gauss’ helmet looked damaged, but he couldn’t see any injuries on the screen. Either way, the way he held himself made Raphael wonder just how damaged he really was. Noah had to run back to his meister and he watched as the meister just about charged Maria with his shield before Maria called out tag.

He scoffed.

Something within him told him Gauss looked destroyed. Or was that his own ego hoping and wishing that were the case? But Raph was overall a lot calmer than he was earlier. After Rand spoke to Maria and congratulated her, and then Ark came over to do the same, Rand spoke about the brackets changing. He tensed his jaw. He wanted to be the last match, but no. That wasn’t going to happen. What happened to the other two? Did they leave?

He huffed. Of course they did. Such weaklings.

However, what interested him more was Iris coming back. Relaxation on limits? Was he talking about an actual power limit that they put on her magic?

He also wondered why the intermission would take longer. Either way, he stopped caring. Maria spoke to all the points Rand and Ark had questioned or talked about going to the hospital. Rand spoke about visiting others, just don’t leave the colosseum. Why would he? He wasn’t about to flake out. Then Rand spoke about victory or some such belief that this wasn’t to win, but to show off. So why was the supposed resonance a problem?

Raphael just shook his head and focused on his book. He wondered as to how much mana he should put into his grimoire to activate his latest spell. He’ll have to figure it out. But not here.

He looked over from his position leaning against the wall. He felt like he should congratulate Maria on bruising the bastard enough for Chanterelle, but he didn’t really feel like it warranted a congratulations. Was it because he wanted to be the reason for Thaddeus’ pain? And as Rand spoke, Raphael felt like he lost interest and care for whatever he was talking about. Fit in? Be the norm? Be accepted? While the third was a want of his, it was for a different reason. He didn’t want to fit in or be a part of the norm. That was already obvious after his Madness. No, he wanted to be set apart from everyone. He wanted to be the one people looked up to and idolized, or hated with seething fury but couldn’t do anything to him. Hell, he didn’t care if he did some heist, made a video of his gains and sent it to the internet to go viral, and got infamous. At least this way, he didn’t have to worry about prison time.

Then Rand said he wasn’t so happy that resonance was used so quick. What were their mentors supposed to do? Step out there and stop the fight? Or let it play out and show the world their own unsound minds and bodies?

If things went well, he can get that mutt and giantess to resonate. Even if it hurt them and if they were to hate him forever. Yes, yes, that sounded like a good plan.

His train of thought was interrupted as Rand said they weren’t out there to entertain, but to show they weren’t lost causes. His gaze narrowed in on Rand. But he wanted to entertain. What use was there to show they weren’t lost causes? He’d get to where he needed someday, with or without their help. It might have been arrogant or pretentious to believe that he could do it by himself, but there were many success stories out there, and he didn’t care if he was one of them or not. He simply rolled his eyes at Rand’s ending of his speech. He can tell the male witch was frustrated, but making a speech wouldn’t change what Raphael wanted to do. Nor would it change the minds of those watching unless they were already on the fence and not set in their ways anyway.

Then Iris nearly broke into the room, throwing open the door. Raphael’s eyes locked onto her hand she was bandaging. Blood. Hm? What was she doing here? Eyes locked onto her form as she walked in looking… Far more relaxed than the tantrum she threw when she had introduced herself to the group that day.

So, just by making a big stink to Rand, she ended up getting what she wanted. A slight release on her seal, and a class in EAT instead of being in the FATE program. How wonderful. The two exchanged almost pleasant talk, immediately getting down to business about what meister and weapon she’d be fighting. A Hoshi though. Even the sorcerer knew what the Hoshi were. He was sure Iris would be able to beat the werewolf and her impromptu weapon still.

Raphael watched the two interact before she made way to leave, not liking the topic about her family. Still? Really? Goodness, just how much did she hate them? Raphael could probably understand, given the hatred he held for Gauss nearly had him act out like his old self.

He rested against the wall, snapping shut his grimoire to set it within his jacket, and looked at his three chain links. Grabbing one end, he spun it around, entertaining himself. Since he was near enough to Iris, he regarded her from the side and threw a smile and a nod. “Nice to see ya around and doing be’er, Iris. So, wha’ are ya gonna do now tha’ you’re leavin’ us behind?” He half-joked, his Manchester accent was considerably thicker than normal. He looked back at Rand and one of the topics Rand brought up that still bothered him left his lips in a small utter. He didn’t know if Iris or Ark would hear, but he knew Rand would. He just forgot he could. “I don’t want to fit in, but to be the one others fit in around.” He looked back at Iris as if he hadn’t just mumbled to himself.

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Jarvis Briseis

Location: Death City (South District...a couple blocks from South Oak Street
Date: March 9th, 2067​

Jarvis sighed.

Lying on his back, atop cold cement, with his arms spread out, Jarvis couldn’t deny he thought he was a goner for a moment. Zari’s madness was much bigger than he’d originally thought. Certainly, Jarvis had gotten a glimpse of it on the day they’d first met, but Zari had cut off their link before he could get a full view of the skeletal creature bathed in flames. Little wonder the kid was terrified; His inner demon, twisted and magnified by the MIBVI virus, was massive. That, along with the approaching heat that threatened to boil its victims alive, made Jarvis want to skedaddle back to his own soulspace rather than endure the potential pain to his own soul. Hard work really wasn’t his thing.

Still, the small figure clinging to his jacket kept him rooted on the spot. Fear only empowered madness. He knew that. If he wanted Zari to remain calm, he’d have to remain calm. It was too late to turn back anyway. He didn’t know what had Zari so frightened about Calm Mind Training, but it was the textbook way to fend off encroaching madness. The safest way. Therefore Jarvis simply tightened his hold on the child pressing their head to his chest. No further words were exchanged. It was not needed as his soul expressed his determination well enough. He’d fight it if he had to in order to keep young Zari’s soul–and his own–from being consumed, but it wasn’t as if he had an Anti-Demon wavelength, nor was Atli with him this time around.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Even in his younger, unblemished version, Zari seemed quite brave.

Jarvis closed his eyes when the kid did and matched his soul’s breath to that of the living soul’s. Even as he heard the demon’s approach, his mind focused on two words–Separation and Isolation. Willed it. Certainly, Jarvis had been the one “coaching” little Zari through what he’d read of Calm Mind, but the meister clearly had a better grasp of what they were doing, and Jarvis ended up following Zari’s lead.

Their wavelengths evened as Jarvis and Zari matched each other in calmness. In silence and isolation, not unlike the feeling of death. Heat lessened. Vanished, really. Everything around them did. The next thing he knew, they landed…somewhere…and were being greeted by a disembodied voice.

“That’s probably the best we’ve done in terms of matching wavelengths so far…”

Of course, best was still far from perfect, but it was at a level where Jarvis could almost call their “resonance” normal. Was it the adrenaline? Atli always did tell him that a procrastinator like himself worked best when the fire was under his feet. Or was that Valerija?

Sighing again, Jarvis forced himself into a sitting position, scratched his head, and took a good look around at the…dungeon? Basement? Was this Zari's Soul Space? Either way, there wasn’t much to look at so Jarvis’s eyes eventually settled on the only thing in the room worth noting–the bound and chained figure of adult Zari. Even without the torches–which he didn’t really need–it was a hard sight to miss. A gruesome sight. No wonder the untarnished version of Zari didn’t want to be there. Were it not for the fact that Jarvis was an adult in an un-aging body, had seen his fair share disturbing sights while journeying with Valerija, and wasn't particularly bothered by the sight of blood, he might've thrown up. Maybe. Even when he'd been alive, Jarvis had never really been the overtly emotional type.

Still, it wasn’t a pleasant sight, seeing someone he considered a group-mate and partner chained up like a rabid animal.

Jarvis watched the younger version and the older version interact before moving to follow suit…since there wasn’t much else to do. Dusting his white pants, Jarvis stuck his hands in his pockets and walked over to sit, crossed legged, beside younger Zari, his eyes studying the restraints that bound older Zari curiously. While the desire to reach out and tear off the chains was there, Jarvis knew better than to do so. This wasn’t his soul. He knew better to step into someone’s private space and start touching things willy nilly. For all Jarvis knew, he might be freeing madness…or some other malicious entity…in the guise of Zari. The bound person certainly didn’t look to be malicious–more despondent– but if looks aren't deceiving there would be no use for a disguise. Jarvis wouldn’t even pretend to know exactly what older and younger Zari are. Figments of the Zari’s past? Aspects of the soul’s personality?

Was this something that happened to Azariah in the past? At the hands of DWMA? At the hands of his father? Or did thoughts of Calm Mind simply call to mind restraints and torture? If so, whatever teacher taught the human Calm Mind needed to get their license revoked. Jarvis wouldn’t want to “Calm Mind” either if this was what he returned to every time.

Nor did he know how to respond to gratitude, so Jarvis simply shrugged. “It storms a lot around here, doesn’t it?” The demon would have to be dealt with at some point. Either co-exist or excised, but leaving things the way they were would only further ravage the soul. If Zari didn’t establish dominance, his war with madness would never end. It’d only wear him out mentally, and physically, until madness eventually took over. “I don’t mind keeping you company for a little while longer.”

When he was in his weapon form, and linked with a meister, being in his own soul space, his meister’s soul space, or the empty void between their souls, mattered little to him. Azariah could hear him either way. He could work on balancing their link, or even try resonating–as in the actual process of amplifying his meister’s wavelength, from anywhere between their souls. Nor was he completely cut off from the outside. Certainly, Jarvis preferred his own Soul Space to Zari’s, his bed being a lot more comfortable than cement floor, but Jarvis had the amazing ability of being able to sleep anywhere. Besides, seeing as it was his meister’s soul, he may as well get used to it. Jarvis glanced at younger Zari. “It’s not so scary, is it?”

The soul space, once created, was a reflection of the inner self–a place where a person’s soul ought to find the most comfort, surrounded by the things important to them. A pianist would have a piano in their soul space. A performer, a stage. Back when he’d been a student of DWMA–before becoming an undead that is–he’d seen all sorts of wonderful spaces from castles to battle ships, but his favorite had always been Alti’s. A wide, endless field of flowers to reflect her open, idealistic mind and love of nature. Compared to her, Jarvis’s soul was more contained. Jarvis also learned, from experience, that one’s soul can change depending on one’s experiences–his first meister leaving an imprint on his for example. Jarvis wasn’t a soul healer. He couldn’t remove the scars that lined the soul…and he wouldn’t even pretend to know the sorts of things Zari went through–things that likely worsened the madness rather than treat it. However, he figured that by showing the mistreated human a wider world, something might stick and something might change. Maybe.

At the very least, it’d make the Soul Space a bit more comfortable to visit.

“Thank you for being brave and showing this to me. The next time we are able to match like this, if we're able to match like this, I’ll show you to my room. ” Shrugging, Jarvis looked up, hearing noises beyond their souls. Proof of mastery was the ability to replicate it. He didn’t know if Zari could maintain Calm Mind while fighting either. That sort of thing took practice. Maintaining a Soul Space as well. Jarvis could weave in and out of his with ease, but that’s because he spent a lot of time in his own soul…talking with Atli…such that he could do it even in his sleep. If anything, he spent a little too much time there–according to Valerija–but it couldn’t be helped that he liked his inner world more than his outer one. “But first, we’ve got a mission to finish. You alright now, Zari? I can track the cat down if your perception can’t.”

The taste of its blood was still fresh in his mouth. Well…in his blood container…but same difference really. “You can also pass me your wavelength if you want me to try amplifying it…but I’d advise against trying something new on an actual mission without having practiced at least once.” At best, nothing would happen, and at worst blood would go haywire. Then again, who knows? Jarvis, for his part, leaned towards pessimism rather than optimism. “Maiden seems to have injured it and I can hear your thoughts a lot more clearly from where I am.”

Prizzy Kriyze Sir Les Paul The Regal Rper Sybil

 

[Sir Les Paul]

March 11th, 2067

"All necessary checks have been made, our systems are perfectly secure," Cyrus announced over his mic once he had received confirmation from Marek in regards to the secure capture of the intruders. Just prior, he sent a quick message to the active mentors explaining, briefly, that a small group of Enlighteners had infiltrated with the intent of retrieving Zosar Straugg, and the remains and survivors were now being transported to the DWMA Holding Cells beneath the main academy. Simple, quick, but the message was necessary to reiterate this point: these Fate Agents had the potential to cause unforeseen problems such as these. Any single one could be a time bomb of meltdowns, security risks, or worst of all... bad PR.

"During this time, we would also like to announce a change to the match order. Following this match will now be Daniella Ethalyn and Nadia from Team Stitches against Ark and Rapheal Valerias from our Mage Team. After that, due to an unfortunate change to our roster, the final round will be Sara Middleton and our Fate Mentor Midori☆Hoshi with an individual we like to consider an immediate success, Iris ba Sitherus," he told everyone, also confirming the change to those within the wings via the intercom. "This match will provide an opportunity for all present to see the potential outcomes of this program, no matter how small, and of those that preceded it. Here, you will have a current Fate Agent paired with an Agent from the Paean Program showing their merit against a Witch of great caliber that proved her capabilities to pass into the DWMA as a true One-Star Agent. They will act as the penultimate match up of this tournament, and we have high hopes they will show you the potential within these hard-working souls,"[/b][/color] he continued on, switching into his sales pitch for the match up. He was consistent, if anything.

"We now request the following combatants to the fields: Noah Wiley, Prudence Pontmercy, Thaddeus Thales, and Chanterelle Fuir. The second round of the first match will begin after your arrival," Cyrus announced, in a more monotonous tone, being quick and clear in his attempt to transition to this next upcoming fight.

​

Tags: QuirkyAngel Prizzy Kriyze Sybil The Regal Rper Merciless Medic EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun Mqueserasera Meredith

Thaddeus Thales​

"Gauss"​

Species Human
Partner Noah Wiley, Prudence Montgomery
Rank Fate Agent

Location Death City, Death Colosseum, exiting arena to the right
Mission Exhibition Tournament
Status Defeated, but slightly relieved

​

Mentions: Merciless Medic Mqueserasera Prizzy Kriyze

The only solace he had was that Thea was gone. A reprieve itself that only existed because she even showed up in the first place.

One shouldn't wish their family didn't exist. One shouldn't wish that their siblings or parents would not attend events in which they were important participants. Normal children were elated when a parent attended a ballgame, aside from those overzealous parents overly vocally proud of every little achievement. Normal kids took it to heart when their family made the effort to show up to things like debates, or plays, speeches, art exhibitions, so on and so forth. That's what Gauss thought. At core, that's what Gauss wished his was like. But in this moment, he wished he was the only Thales left alive. He wished there wasn't a way for them to show up and make a bad situation worse.

He wished they knew how to just shut the hell up. But alas, that was not the Thales way.

Gauss breathed in deep, willing himself to get up. It wasn't a sigh, nor did a deep exhale follow it. It was a gasp.

But his body did move and his will was still there, albeit a little battered from what had just occurred. He hadn't lifted his head in some time and a combination of its immobility and that previous explosion had made it stiff. He rolled it to the sides slowly, stretching it, alongside his limbs which all still seemed to function acceptably. He had absolutely no real hopes of winning this next match, especially with the information he had on Chanterelle. But, of the many things Gauss was, a quitter was not one of them. He looked back for Noah and Prudence, at this point still unsure of if even they cared to continue on--with him especially. If they did, he could only conclude in the moment it was out of the same determination to complete what they had started.

"I don't imagine this will last long... I am sorry," he muttered. He couldn't bare to respond to everyone. Dani had raged plenty, but it didn't stir him. Nadia made her condescending comments, but Gauss couldn't even muster the will to point out how flawed and ignorant they were. Zelda said some words at some point, he was sure; all he really knew is she was why Thea left abruptly. Had Zelda not intervened, Thea would have left her harpy claws in his back right up until he walked through that stone stairway to the arena.

With that one small comment, he made his way down the hallway he carried himself through a moment ago. The bleeding had stopped for the most part. Had he been of more clear mind, perhaps he would have had some wounds wrapped or pressure applied or actually any form of treatment beyond what the initial medics gave. Instead, he shambled exactly as he was, prepared to face whatever fury the toxic mushroom witch decided to throw at him.

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Maria Mayer - Death City the Colosseum
​

Rand went into some detail onto why Maria was wrong, to which she did hope he was correct, though. "I am not so sure there aren't other motives at play, things may be changing but much of that which is old still remains. It is a test to see what we can do, but of worth as well."

Listening to the voice over the speakers in the ready room of one Cyrus, she thought back on that statement of worth. Rand seemed to care, but she rather doubted the blue hair man cared for anything that didn't add more fame. She however did not voice these out loud as she looked at the three who were called out. She was unsure of what to say. Good Luck? Don't Die? Show the witches what you are made of? Her time in the workshop had taught her while there were witches like the Maba had seemed keen on restoring relations with and seeing the value in men and witches like Mirai had been eager to the tasks of the Mage's guild, many more had not and while they might not have rebeled, they also were not happy with the lesser in the ranks. Between that and the treatment she had given and received to and from the other students, Rands words could not so easily shake how she felt about all of this.

"I..." Her partner was a witch of the wilds, of that she was sure, a threat, a hazard. But for now, weren't they allies? "..hmm. Show this is no mummer's farce. Make use of the fragments from my creation, whatever there was if you should wish, only splinters should be left." She says of Chanterelle. Turning her head to the two males, she chooses her words carefully, not really able to wish them well, yet not poorly, all the more worried about the look Raph had on his face, though she did not show this.

"I shall watch you two battle, with the attentiveness of a viper watching a mouse and look forward to seeing how you do. But for now I have a visitor I wish to see." collecting her three small dolls and strapping the weapons and armor to the medium doll underneath the cloak she pauses for a bit, issues some orders via her wires to the medium doll and sending it ahead as she grabbed the two suitcases with the smaller creations.

"I may return here for the third match or the end of the second, but I offer no promises. Wait and see which way the egg falls from the wall, yes?" And with that she gave a nod of her head and heads off, though at a slower pace than when she arrived or normally moves, a bit distracted or fatigued showing she wasn't at 100% though she offered no complaints as she made way out the door and down the halls.

Interactions: Mage Team

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Eloise Keegan - Death Nova
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"You should learn to take a compliment, dear," Eloise replied with a haughty smile. "I most certainly won't argue."

Ulysses was a sweet-talker, that was for sure. Though, it took one to know one. It seemed like all manner of inhibition was gone, not that there was any reason for it now. Truly, Elly didn't even have to dig, whatever she wanted was just--there. It showed a kind of relief given that he was so excited for her to have agreed. Eloise wouldn't have celebrated until she was off with the money and fully in the clear, but he was giddy from preparations succeeding.

"Anyone in specific I should be worried about aside from this Emmett?" She inquired with a tilt of her head. If they had made a name for themselves within the DWMA, likely Elly had heard of them. However, they didn't exactly ship her here with a brochure containing a list of staff within F.A.T.E. Plenty could go wrong, especially if they crossed the wrong person. Elly would be surprised if she wasn't supervised by someone that could in some way tackle her unique wavelength. "Oh, but then why would I take it so quickly? If I make it easy for you, you'll just get bored."

Briefly remarking on his musings, the prospect of trust was an interesting point that he levied. Elly was absolutely against blind trust. That was just asking for a knife in your back or for your brakes to be cut. No, she couldn't trust anyone. However, you could trust that people will always further their own pursuits. If you know what someone's goals are, you can trust that they will do what moves them closer and thus can gain some semblance of understanding for what they will and won't do. Otherwise, people are just backstabbing little devils.

That's why she could be trusted. She wanted security and prosperity. At this juncture, the DWMA was her best opportunity for both.

"That's probably for the best. You should enjoy all your remaining free time before I can pester you in your head," Elly said in jest. "I'm sure the charm of the accent will run its course after a few months. I do hope you don't get tired of me. I'm kind of curious what it's like to have an angel on my shoulder."

Interactions: Sir Les Paul

 

[Sir Les Paul]

An Unprecedented Occasion, pt. 1​

Gauss was in no way prepared for this upcoming fight. Even with the amount of time he had to try and recuperate, fact was, he had a legitimate concussion, his wavelength was drained to the point he could barely make his ball bearings float, and the conversation he had with his sister just destroyed and further desire he had to fight. He stepped up to the arena best he could alongside Prudence and Noah, and he rolled his neck over to look at them both. His scalp was adorned with bandages covering the slash on the right side of his hairline, but even then blood was seeping through it. Maria really did some damage to him. Granted, that lightning wasn’t easy on him either, and that was his own fault.

”Alright… this is going to be rough,” he told both of them. The confidence he had in the previous fight had faded entirely. He went into the match with Maria feeling like he could take on the world and he was going into his match with Chant feeling like he was hit by a train.

Gauss approached the center of the ring, but held up his finger to Cyrus, eyes wide open as if he could just demand time from the director of the program.

”Now, miss… I am clearly in no shape to fight. This tournament is about sportsmanship. You could easily use just about any spell to beat me as it is, but where’s the sportsmanship in that?” he asked her, posing a question he felt was legitimate despite its obvious rhetorical nature.

”How about we let this match be decided in the most sportsmanlike of ways: a simple coin toss. Non-magnetic, of course,” he suggested, genuinely trying to make this anything but a true all-out battle like the last. The toadstool witch was dressed in a dark set of dyed linen shorts and a t-shirt. She seemed nearly as out of place as Gauss looked in the arena instead of in a field hospital where he belonged; the witch could have been almost any NOT student dragged from the spectator booths. The side of her lips curled into a sort of pout as she approached her opponent and the referee. Her hand reached out toward Cyrus in a rolling motion at the wrist, gesturing toward the stands.

“The humiliation of winning a duel on a coin flip would sting a thousand times worse than a loss on its own. A handicap for a handicap,” she proposed, coming to a halt, finally opposite the starting circle from Gauss. She raised her hands in the way of submission; their encounter was not yet ready to begin. Her jaw set into a determined grimace, eyes surveying across the crowd behind him. “You can fight with your hands. If I might harm you more with my strongest skills, then I will contest you where we might have equal ground; your injury against my inexperience.”

The curve of her mouth abruptly shifted. This was more mischievous; an implicit challenge in her sparkling eyes. “They came for an exhibition. If you are willing - and able - to humour me, of course. I understand if you have to leave the field.” Whether this was kind or not was… debatable, listening to her tone. It was pushy. An overt challenge. Her chin angled up at him.

​

Noah, still drained, had his eyes narrowing at the mushroom witch ahead of him. The challenge was not missed, and he looked to Gauss with a concerned expression. While he did absolutely hate how they didn’t resonate, hated that he enabled it, hated that Gauss even mentioned it in the first place, he can rage about it later. For now, he didn’t like the looks of this. He looked at Gauss and whispered. “Dude, ya’re not feelin’ very well. ‘re ya sure ya’re able ta take ‘er on in a fist fight? Zelda said not ta touch ‘er…” His tone was harsh, yet held a hint of concern. He was still miffed and it came off in his tone, his body turned to face Gauss and his head facing the stands behind Gauss.

Gauss listened to both the counteroffer with a tinge of curiosity in what the witch was offering, and it was definitely enticing. He also listened to the protests of Noah, who was rightfully quite frustrated after their last endeavor. It seemed Noah was a glass half empty type of fellow today. ”Let’s at least hear her out… if it’s an even contest, like a brawl, then we may be better off giving that a go than trying to get our souls in sync again,” he responded, answering Noah. He then sighed, realizing that he ought not push his decisions on his weapons as he did in the last match.

”I do see your point. You can ask what she means by an equal contest and see if that seems more suitable than running at her with shield and staff in hand,” he suggested, at least attempting to be accommodating.

Sighing, Noah narrowed his eyes. He was exhausted, he just wanted to lay down, and he wasn’t going to give a shit. If it’s a brawl they’re going for, then he wouldn’t be a part of it. He simply scoffed and shook his head. “Ya ask ‘er yerself. I ain’t much for physical brawlin’, so yer on yer own.” Noah didn’t want to attempt resonance with Gauss, nor did he want to give him the time of day. He was pissed, he was tired, in pain because of Gauss, and he didn’t know what to do. He just growled. “Let’s get this over with… We’ve already made fools of ourselves… Might as well make our last clown act…” He backed away, crossing his arms and looking off to the side, now facing Chanterelle. Yes, Noah was upset at Gauss, but more so at himself. He should have said no, denied it and focused on something else. But being as therapy only did so much when the client was stubborn, Noah didn’t want to do it the healthy way. The way he had been dealing with his anger before was suitable for right now, which was to distance himself from the event and put the blame squarely on Gauss for now. Maybe if he could punch something, he’d be able to calm down, but for now he was just going to stand there gritting his teeth and bearing the rest of this clown fest.

Prudence stirred. And slowly she unfurled her psyche. Stretching a bit to combat the stiffness from withdrawing her mind. But not too far out yet, not completely open, but still faintly cautious of some aftermath that could still emerge. Even before the failed resonance had reached its climax, Prudence had sensed something foul: an invasive connection of emotions between her partners. She would rather have nothing to do with it, so she escaped inward and raised a brief curtain, though thin had mitigated the blinding light.

Now when disastrous failure had wrecked them both from the height of their emotions, she had all the more reason to close off her mind from her Meister’s influence. He was dangerous. A danger to himself and others. But so long as she could keep him on the other side of the walls, this partnership should still work.

For now, there was still the second opponent. She could sense Gauss’s physical agony, the kind of suffering she would have advised any other Meister to succumb and withdraw. It was only a friendly fight after all, not something of life and death. But to him, honor and all that? She knew not the ultimate source of his stubbornness, his craving for greater heights. Pointless, pointless it all was. But he would not surrender, that she knew. Yet it was not her place to give sensible advice. So what if he was going to destroy himself, ruining his body? The risk would be his to face, and the consequence he alone shall carry in its entirety. And then it would not be her fault for not being able to protect what wish not to be sensible. Her conscience, if one could even call it that, would not be harmed, no matter what he was going to inflict upon himself. A tool need not care for the fate of its user. They were all the same anyway.

“I still have the energy absorbed from the witch’s explosions,” she voiced her opinion. In the center of her heavy mass, the sapphire glittered with newly absorbed energy, whirling like smoke behind the pretty surface, waiting to be unleashed. “A meister fights with his weapon, a witch fights with her magic. We know not what she can do, so proposing to take on her weaponless is unthinkable. She’s essentially telling us to fight with an even greater handicap while her only disadvantage was her inexperience. A bit silly, if you ask me. Suppose her strongest skills work especially well in close range, then what? But, however, if you can get in melee range with me and Noah, my stored energy may be enough to knock her out. You can still endure some more, can’t you?”


Fantastic points brought up by his weapons. Especially that last one. ‘You can still endure some more, can’t you?’ Realistically, the answer was not a lot. Both Noah and Prudence seemed to by far underestimate what actually happened to his body. They were indestructible weapons, after all. They weren’t hit with that lightning as humans. Their muscles did not ache like his did. Their soul was not bruised as his was, although Noah’s was close. He hated to admit it, but that clown show Noah described left him in worse condition than Kasper.

”Noah and Prudence bring up great points,” he said, explaining to the witch. ”Our greatest strength is hardly myself, but them. To ask me to fight without them is to ask you to fight without casting a single spell. Is that the type of handicap you wish to exchange?” Gauss asked her, cutting to the point and asking exactly what she would and wouldn’t be doing in this fight.

“That was the plan,” Chanterelle replied with a curling lip, “though, of course, I would need to cast several spells to fight you fairly to begin with. Something to dry my skin. Another incantation to cover my hands. A third about my mouth, if you worry I might break our promise. I’d prefer to be able to speak.” Her shoulders came up about her chin; the witch’s posture was tight.

Her eyes did not stray from Gauss’. His weapons seemed uninterested in speaking to her directly; it felt hostile, and her demeanour repaid the favour. “Without magic, you know, I’m just the same as you.” It was a lie. She knew it was a lie; she said it brazenly. She could feel the jittering of her fingers. Cyrus had grown quite tired of this delay, but he did see merit in it. The previous display was over the top and had some less than straightforward combat. Chanterelle offered to fight without Magic against a bruised and beaten Meister when she clearly had the advantage and could work–in both their favor.

”I have humored this notion for long enough. Noah, Prudence, you don’t want humiliated again, yes? You can go back and sit with Emmett ringside, that way if Thaddeus embarrasses himself, it won’t be with either of you. If that doesn’t sit well with you, the round can proceed as normal. For all I care, there are three of you, so if you two want to forfeit the match before it even begins, you have the majority vote. But I need a decision–soon,” Cyrus told them, addressing both of them specifically. He glanced back over to Chanterelle quickly and told her, ”I’m only entertaining this idea for the crowd, and because you’re less likely to actually kill him without your magic.”

“I wasn’t going to kill him anyway,” the witch murmured defensively, just too quietly for the microphone to pick up. She waited for their decision, still.

Noah, however, was still irate. He wasn’t exactly angry with the witch in front of him, his sour mug just made it look like he was. No, he was really mad at not just himself but Gauss. He didn’t care how badly Gauss was injured right now. That wasn’t his concern. He didn’t want any of his wavelength or soul touching him. He ignored Cyrus addressing them, scoffing and rolling his eyes at this stupid show he got himself in. He knew Gauss was trying to flatter them that he and Prudence were his strengths. Despite how true that was, Noah didn’t want to hear it. So when he was given the option to leave and let Gauss handle this on his own, he scoffed with a bit of a chuckle. “It’s not cuz I don’t wanna embarrass myself. It’s cuz-...” He paused. He didn’t know if he was silencing himself to keep himself from dissing Mr. Thales’ son, to keep from showing everyone how dysfunctional their team really was, or to not have others perceive him as weak or hurt Gauss more. He shook his head and began walking back to Team Stitches’ wing of the colosseum. “Whatever… Good luck.” He gave him a non-committal wave with his back turned as he made his way out.

This is so fuckin’ stupid.

So Noah decided to retire from the fight. That was in line with his character, Prudence thought, even if he appeared much more irritated than usual. The damage from before to his soul surely was not easy to bear. So she did blame him, not that she would’ve blamed him if he had run away because of cowardice.

A corner of the shield softened, rounded and from which emerged black strands and then a head. Prudence poked out and addressed Gauss directly as Noah made off. “I’m fine either way. If you want to brawl with the witch then I will leave first. But wield me if you still wish to fight her squarely.”

Gauss could do little more than smile. Partly, because he didn’t really know what to do. Noah was justifiably angry, and while Gauss didn’t believe he was entirely at fault, he definitely knew he was. That would need to be hashed out later. Prudence was as neutral as ever. A stone, really. Gauss looked at her squarely, admittedly it was odd to see a shield with a head, but such was what DWMA Agents were at least slightly accustomed to. ”Prudence, I appreciate your loyalty, but.. I believe Noah could use your support more than I right now. I know it’s not your thing, and I’m sure you’re not terribly happy with either of us, but having him fume over there alone to me sounds worse than me trying to fight alone here,” he explained to her. And, notably, she could feel a sense of sincerity within his soul. Being attached to him and all, his weapon. He did have genuine concern for Noah.

With that out of the way, Gauss turned back to Cyrus and nodded. ”We shall fight alone, no weapons or magic beyond whatever precautions she believes are necessary,” Gauss mentioned. With that, Cyrus took his queue and nodded back.

”Well ladies and gentlemen, you may not believe this turn of events. But these two combatants have both agreed to an unorthodox match. No weapons for our Meister, and no spellcasting for the Witch. The battered and returning Gauss from last match against the fresh and green Mushroom Witch, Chanterelle, in a fight the likes I don’t believe even I have ever seen. What a unique display for this very arena! Cyrus announced over his microphone. And this, this oddly enough piqued more interest from the crowd, especially after the brief delay, than the first match with the failed resonance.

”Do what is is you need to do, Chanterelle,” Cyrus instructed her, ”We will adjust this match to just ten paces and an immediate start, as there shouldn’t be need for prep time since we’re allowing that now. Oh, and as you said you didn’t intend on killing him, I bet he didn’t intend on shocking himself half to death either, but things happen in the heat of combat,” he explained, also making sure not to gloss over her previous comment to him.

It took everything to keep the rage off her face. “I’d never kill a man in a spar,” she finally murmured, but it took a long moment of holding her breath as she covered her hands in a thin layer of beige-toned mycelium and focused her frustrating into the work like jamming a needle straight through leather in frustration. It wound around her fingers and up her arms; the weaving took her focus as she began to move back. The threads, she was sure, were not toxic- but they would need to be cut apart from her hands.

The white, vein-like structures grew across her back, blanketing over her tank top like a blanket of rapidly spreading white mould. As it settled, it seemed to deflate, covering her skin in a thin layer of weblike fibre. Her face and legs stayed exposed, though; it felt like cheating to give herself too much resistance and him too little chance of exposing himself to her poison. Her high boots - pulled just above her knees - covered most of that, anyway.
But the anger bubbled in her chest. She determinedly took her place at ten paces, turning sharply on her heel to face Gauss, feet spreading shoulder-wide. Her hands - fingers glued together - raised in a defensive position. The witch beckoned him forward through Cyrus with her hand. Nobody had any faith in her whatsoever. It was better to avoid poisoning him, anyway.

Her preparations had only taken a few seconds. There wasn’t much to do, but give herself some rigidity, and try to conduct herself in a sportsmanlike manner. At least this way she could test her own abilities. “I’m ready to begin. Good luck, Gauss.”

The joy left her demeanor. All serious, now, just waiting for the signal. She was ready to move.

Ten steps was much for them meant that their beginning would be a good fifteen, twenty feet apart. This presented a problem. Gauss was a reactionary fighter.Shito-Ryu karate was part of his core, and it was almost entirely defensive. Even Gōjū-ryū, his alternative, wasn’t the most offensive fighting style. Unless Chanterelle was going to come out a surprise kickboxer, this meant he was likely to be on the offense.

This held true as after their ten steps, Chanterelle took her wide stance and motioned for him to come near her. He lamented at this, but he doubted he could just goad her right from the start to run at him. Besides, she had already done him the kindness of accepting this variation of unarmed combat. Instead of finding some way to put himself into a better position, he opted to face the issue head-on. He walked forward fairly calmly, although his body and stride were tense in the event of a surprise from Chanterelle, and now closer to six or so feet away from her, took his own stance.

Hips almost perpendicular to her, torso at an angle, right leg bent forward in front of him near her, left leg angled similarly but facing away. Both arms raised at similar angles facing her with his right hand extending closer. Once the stance was taken, it was only a moment later that his rigid stance became loose and fluid, him almost bouncing up and down with small but reserved movements in each of his hands, not leaving a single limb of his truly unmoving.

With each bounce he neared her, lifting his right hand for fake jabs that never went more than an inch or so forward. These were hardly feints, never intended to be real strikes. Once in range, a burst of speed came from him as he twisted his hips to shift his position for his left foot to be in front of his right and with it his entire stance shifted. Using this pivoting force, he threw a quick jab out at Chanterelle’s face with his left hand, trying to use this sudden shift to land a quick strike.
It was like being charged by a particularly limber armoured rhinoceros.

Maybe, in her goading, Chanterelle had forgotten to think this through. He hadn’t looked that much bigger than her at first. No more than half a foot, at least, and not that much wider by her estimation. But the armor - or maybe something about it boots - made him feel taller, and heavier, and more imposing as he moved forward. The witch watched his hands carefully as he approached. She flinched backwards at the last feint, just out of range, but her movement continued as his swung back. The back of his fist grazed against her cheek behind her on its way past as she spun on her heel. She pressed her back into his chest, heels digging into the ground, attempting to shove him backwards. He was too heavy, so instead, she hauled her elbow back at him. It wasn’t the most graceful motion, but she was close - too close.

She was quicker than expected, but Gauss was still testing the waters. There were a dozen ways he knew to handle this particular situation, and had he expected her to try and throw him, a half-dozen he could have reacted to that. That was not the case, and he intended to abuse the shortcoming of both of their poor timing. When she failed to haul him over her own body, he used this short window and his own leverage over her to vault over her, rolling over her back using the same pivot point she would have thrown him with.

In that same motion rolling over her back, he intended not to land on his feet, but instead in a crouched position, using the downward momentum and his extended arm to wrap around her waist and ultimately follow through to toss her to the ground in what effectively amounted to an overly acrobatic, waist-high clothesline.

She wasn’t quite fast enough. The feeling of him gliding over her back made the witch blanch; it took everything from her to stop herself from sending a branch straight through his back and hers as well. But that attention was hard-maintained. Before she could react, his arm snaked around her waist, and she sank to the ground like a rock under his pressure.

Merciless Medic Sir Les Paul EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun Mqueserasera QuirkyAngel Sybil Prizzy Kriyze The Regal Rper

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Valerija Elvira

Location: Death Colosseum, Death City
Date: March 11th, 2067​

Turning to observe the individual who had swooped in to steal Jarvis’s seat, the currently pink haired bloodsuckeress smiled at the Death Golem, her green eyes twinkling in amusement at his words. “Oh my~ We’ve just met and already you’re trying to peer into my soul. The rumors regarding DWMA certainly don’t disappoint.”

Not bothering to clarify what rumors she was referring to, her gaze drifted down towards the Arena as she continued. “But yes, I am not Jarvi’s girlfriend. Hard to imagine him in any sort of romantic relationship at all with how much of an obsessed slacker he is...though I wouldn't mind it if he were ferreting away a secret enchantress~ ” Valerija giggled at the thought. "That boy needs to start living a little!"

She paused, as if deciding how to answer Midori’s inquiry, before shrugging and tucking pink strands behind her ear. “..The best way to describe my relationship with him would be that of a guardian, I suppose, though ‘companion’ and ‘teacher’ work as well. I was a friend of his parents. I am also the one who gave him his second life, so I feel a little responsible for him.”

Looking back at Midori, Valerija smirked. “Does that satiate your curiosity, DarkStar~?”

~~~

Jarvis BriseisLocation: Death Colosseum, Death City
Date: March 11th, 2067​

Sometimes Jarvis cursed his curiosity.

Crouched behind a vending machine, one adjacent to the staircase that led into the Entrance Hall, Jarvis had a full view of the "battle" below. Well, the end of it anyway. The overwhelming scent of blood rattled the box a bit, but otherwise the creature inside remained quiet, respecting Jarvis as the master of their soul. It wouldn’t come out unless Jarvis’s life was at risk…or it got extremely hungry. Fortunately, Jarvis knew better than to starve himself. He’d seen firsthand the sorts of things a starving bloodsucker did; Honestly, not that different from a starving human when push came to shove.

Wavelength suppressed–at least to the best of his ability–Jarvis didn’t move even as he watched Zosar being carried away by what appeared to be DWMA agents keeping an eye on the former spy. That…or Death Colosseum’s security. Regardless, the name Cyrus had been mentioned, so there was a high chance the ones who took Zosar worked for the current Death God. ‘Allies’, essentially. At the very least, they weren’t people a type-E FATE agent like himself would want to make enemies with. It wasn’t until the “cleanup crew” arrived that Jarvis, silently and breathlessly (because he didn’t need to breathe), slid back into the darkened corridors, a tray of food in one hand and a sleeping pigeon in the other.

There wasn’t much that he could do on his own anyway.

Perhaps if it’d had been Atli–or even Zari–in that situation, Jarvis might’ve reacted more impulsively; There had been plenty of blood in the entrance hall for him to utilize, after all. However, as it stood, he’d known Zosar Raith for 4 days. They’d worked together on 1 mission and had never interacted soul-wise. Not exactly someone he’d risk his career for. He couldn’t even say for certain whether or not Zosar wanted to leave with the intruders who, judging from Zosar’s reaction to their deaths, seemed to be the meister’s friends. Friends that had a…bomb detonator?...in their pockets? Jarvis couldn’t say for certain. Either way, that sort of thing was best left to security. Jarvis didn’t envy Zosar’s position in the least.

Whether or not Zosar dropped out of the program, or was unable to continue like Kasper and Athena, didn't alter his goals any.

Still…Zosar was a teammate. One of the two meisters in ‘Team Arrow’. He also remembered the meister saying something about having a strong personal code and attachment to DWMA that led to him turning himself in…or some such. Therefore, the least he could do was inform Midori of Zosar’s situation. He was also curious how their team mentor–who claimed to be on their side–would respond. Ever since DWMA abandoned Atli, Jarvis didn’t trust the school not to leave them behind if they became risk factors. He didn’t blame them for it either. It only made sense, after all. Atli wasn’t the only victim of the MBIVI virus at the time…and there had been no cure in sight. In terms of personality, Jarvis was probably closer to Cyrus, tending to the efficient and logical side of the argument. He wasn’t the hopeful sort. He didn’t think throwing money at the FATE program would solve all the issues these kids had. He didn’t expect DWMA to welcome a bloodsucker joining their ranks with open arms either. The were creatures made of magic that defied the laws of death, after all.

Yet, right or wrong, he had still chased after Atli.

And, despite the Blue Reaper’s misgivings regarding the program, the Deathsycthe still seemed to be putting in a lot of effort in hyping it up in front of the program’s investors…though whether or not Lord Kidd had anything to with Cyrus’s current showmanship was undetermined.

Lifting the bird he’d caught, Jarvis nicked it a bit in the wing and let a few drops of blood slide down into their drinks before tucking the sleeping animal in his pockets. He’d free it once they reached the roofless main stadium. Sadly, Jarvis found his journey back to his seat delayed by the apparent ‘lockdown’ of the colosseum as security scrambled to search out intruders. Or bombs. Or whatever. Jarvis rolled his eyes as he pointed to his collar. His invitation. Even his FATE agent ID. Yet, the questions persisted such that he was tempted to turn around and leave back to his coffin. He didn’t even want to watch the fights, let alone stick around to explain to security how he had nothing to do with the current chaos and that he hadn’t heard any rule about not being allowed to leave the colosseum for some fresh air. The only reason he hadn’t was that ditching Valerija came with its own consequences.

By the time he finally made it out of the corridor, intermission ended and he met his second surprise of the day when the words “Sara Middleton and our Fate Mentor Midori☆Hoshi” escaped Cyrus’s lips. Jarvis blinked. Really? Team Arrow’s mentor? What happened to the annoyingly loud bell? His eyes searched out the Hoshi, intending to call the Fate mentor if he didn’t find him, and bit back a groan when he saw who the Two-Star agent was seated next to. On the bright side, he wouldn’t have to walk very far to find the people he was looking for. On the down side, a former monster hunter chatting with a monster could only mean so many things. Glancing back at the corridor in an almost longing manner, Jarvis sighed before returning his gaze to the odd pair and making his way over to them. He didn’t know what they’d been talking about. Probably nothing good, though he internally prayed it wasn’t anything that would make his undead life more difficult anyway.

“What took you so long!? You almost missed the match!”

Jarvis shrugged and passed Valerija the tray of food, though his words were for the Two-Star in his seat. “You’re quite busy, aren’t you Midori?” The comment was in reference to Midori’s pairing with Sara for the final match. “ Zosar’s been taken by the school.”

And that was it. He’d done his part for the ‘team’. There wasn’t really anything he could do regarding his fellow type-E agent’s plight, but make it worse if he interfered. Security, bombs, or whatever happened to the FATE event, wasn’t part of his job either.

Jarvis pivoted. “Now, I don’t want to interrupt you two any further, so I’ll just find another s–”

Valerija’s firm grip on his jacket, incongruous with the smile on her face, kept Jarvis stationary. His shoulders slumped.

Sir Les Paul
(mentioned: The Regal Rper )

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Ulysses Stein​

"D-Stein"​

Species Human
Partner None
Rank One-Star

Location Death City, Central Main Street, Death-Nova
Mission None
Status Relieved, relaxed

​

Mentions: EmperorsChosen

He sipped from his latte, which at this point was becoming uncomfortably close to room temperature at this point, while listening to her. She had several good points and was flirtatious as ever, but something in this moment made him lose just the tiniest bit of attention to realize just how much the temperature of his beverage affected its flavor. It was more bitter. That delicate dance of sweetness, nuttiness, and bitter was leaning into a direction he wasn't a huge fan of. He would much rather a coffee be black and strong instead of diluted with sugars and creams, if it wasn't going to at least be tasty while doing so. Despite his fame and fortune, however, Ulysses was not one for waste. While Elly made several very solid points, he made it a point to finish off this second half of his latte and with a light, hollow tap on the outside table, sat it down.

He mused at her question. Of course, he wanted to respond to everything she said, but in what order. Chronological order made sense for some, but also order of importance. But then, didn't that outright say what he valued most? That didn't really matter, she could be reading his thoughts right now, let alone seeing his soul. He was curious as to how that Super Soul Perception thing worked. He had been informed time after time that while his own perception was unique and considerably more insightful than normal, it also came with some inherent flaws and at times inaccuracies. Did hers avert that? Or, was hers simply so clear, it could not be led into falsehood?

If he tried to lie, would she know? Or, would she just know some general falsehood was given? If he picked up that empty cup and threw it at her, could she tell if he was being playful, malicious, or just a dick? If he had lewd thoughts, would she know? Would she know just how lewd? Could she determine if they were aimed at her, or in general?

It was the caffeine. It was definitely the jolt of caffeine hitting him. He realized just how derailed in his own thoughts he had become.

"Everyone, my dear," Ulysses responded, seemingly sarcastically with just a tinge of his theatrical nature pouring through. "I find it best to worry about everyone and trust no one. Somehow, you end up in a net positive of worrying less that way," he explained. His words did pick up in pace, and so did his heartbeat. Not from those lewd thoughts he pondered on earlier, no, this was the caffeine rush.

"To be honest, I know very little about the mentors and other agents in this program. You were scouted because you are absolutely, astonishingly perfect... for this mission," he went on, slipping in a compliment she so dared him to accept earlier only to taper it off into slightly less of one. "Emmett is bloody genius--in more ways than one. If anyone could sniff out your scarab given enough time, it's him. As for the other mentors, without their names, well," he shrugged quite nonchalantly, "I know as much as you and look half as pretty knowing it."

"As for the rest, I wouldn't worry too much about me. I stay too busy to get bored, and the accent is actually growing on me. Besides, I doubt you're so cruel as to sing show tunes in my head all day, though if you are... I might have to hit you with some of my rough drafts of slam poetry; and I warn you, there's reason it doesn't make its way into real lyrics," he added, yet another playful response.

"Though I am curious, since you brought up the topic of who to look out for," he said, veering off into an entirely different direction, again probably in part due to his new jittery mood. "Why trust me? You say it, but I'm not exactly an angel. My closet has plenty of skeletons--and probably even a few things that could make a mobster blush," he explained, asking an pivotal question laced with his ever-present charm.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Midori☆Hoshi​

"Dark Star"​

Species Death Golem
Partner Various / Autonomous Weapon
Rank Two-Star

Location Death City, Death Colosseum, Stands
Mission N/A
Status Intrigued

​

Mentions: QuirkyAngel

Her giggle was met with a chuckle from him. She was so blunt. And sociable. Completely unlike Jarvis. The juxtaposition was crazy. And, as she continued explaining, it became clearer and clearer what she was to him until she outright explained she was the one who gave him second life. She was a Bloodsucker also. Of course. Of course... Midori had all these wonderful thoughts about a Bloodsucker. He began to ponder how that would work. His golem body with someone that drew their power from blood. More so, he wondered if, perhaps, she did consume some of his blood, but then he turned into his marble form, would that all convert? Considering any time he had to do so previously, it was to avoid bleeding, it wasn't a situation he had ever contemplated. He knew when weapons bled and they transformed, the blood just stayed there, so it was likely the same. Still.

Would be rude to leave Jarvis' second mother with marble in her stomach. Granted, highly unlikely at this point, but the thought was there.

Now, normally, Midori would have been quick to make any number of responses here. To clarify the soul perception situation, or perhaps ask more about it. Or, perhaps to explain that it wasn't just her soul he'd like to peer into, follow that up with how he wasn't quite satiated yet. Or, maybe, just be friendly and have a laugh at Jarvis. She did seem quite well aware of his less than enthusiastic lifestyle. Although, unlike her, he didn't actually perceive it as a problem. A bloodsucker with no ambition was better than one painting the streets red, but nonetheless.

This wasn't a normal situation. Jarvis returned, and with this second blood sucker demanding he stay, informed him that Zosar was gone. Midori had no bloody idea. Pardon the pun. His face went blank for a moment. Not the type of blank one gets from staring at member of their preferred gender(s), or the one you get right as you focus in on a kill. This blank stare was his brain trying to process the information.

He pulled out his phone, which up until now he was ignoring, while simultaneously letting out an entirely character changing phrase, "The fuck do you mean the school has Zosar?

It wasn't until reading the message the other mentors were sent that it all came together. Midori in this minute was struck with a handful of emotions. Upset, obviously. But there anger, betrayal, disappointment. In Zosar, mostly, but some aimed at the others in the program. The absolute fuck was this? Zosar and Adra were making headway, at least to some degree.

"Oh Death-damnit all," he announced before getting up. Without an additional thought, he simply spurted, "I'd love to stay and hit on your second mom, but I've apparently got business to deal with. Probably going to miss the fight." And, with that, Midori darted off like a man on a mission, only to turn back to Valerija quickly and add, "Nice meeting you, by the way," before yet again turning around to go to the officials to ask what happened, how, and who he needed to kill.

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Azariah "Zari" Vasher

He traced the cracks and creases in the wood with his eyes, making imaginary dancing patterns from behind his eyelids. His vision flashed and cracked like lightning, and a distant thunderous ringing in his ears kept coming in and out. Jarvis found himself at ease even here, it would seem. Zari hadn't doubted that. His emotions seemed blunted, and whether that was because of his death or deeper issues was yet to be seen.

On the mentioning of whether it was scary, young Azariah seemed nervous. His eyes shifted eratically for a moment, before he slipped away from his older self and sat himself next to Jarvis instead, earning himself a sidelong glance from the former. There was a complex series of emotion in that one look, anger, concern, arrogance - but no words were uttered, other than a deeply obscured if not completely unintelligible Why? reverberating somewhere from deep inside the older one's soul representation. Though it didn't seem he could hear the echo, It seemingly served to unnerve the younger one further as he scooched in closer to Jarvis.

Young Zari turned with excitement and eagerly nodded when Jarvis suggested they visit his Soul Space next time. His entire demeanour lit up at the prospect, while his older self hung his head in exhaustion again. When Jarvis asked about the mission though, it was not the young one's turn to speak. No, that was handled better by an adult and he seemed to know it too, as he curbed his enthusiasm and looked expectantly to the older one.

With the slightest hint of vitriol and a refusal to meet their eyes, older Zari replied. "I hear it fine, it's not far. Smaller, I think. Small enough to catch, yet?" He asked. Considering how much blood Jarvis had at his disposal, it was more a question of finding the point where he could make a dome thick enough to contain it. With a careful shift as not to disturb the rods in his arms, he leaned back so his face was turned to the ceiling instead. The grandfather clock ticked on. "We don't need to experiment to break this thing. It's already on its last legs." He shifted his eyes to look to Jarvis, now apathetic once more. "I'll take care of it."

Back in the alleyway, Zari stood up straight. He'd been leaned against the wall trying to compose himself for longer than he'd imagined, but now there was no hint of fatigue anymore. Not even the corroded spot on his shoulder where blood was now seeping forth seemed to bother him, only calmly painted his left sleeve red. With a short run up and a leap he began his pursuit. He opted to forego the street entirely, as he kicked off from buildings to compound more speed and stayed a few meters in the air at all times. The Shuumie's soul echoed from an adjacent alleyway, weaker and faster than before.

Like a supernatural acrobat, Zari utilized his experience in traversing Tokyo to his benefit. He raised his course, hooked his arm around a street light to alter his course across a rooftop, briefly altered his fall by kicking off from a chimney, and barrelled down into the end of the alleyway the Shuumie was travelling down. He flipped to land and slide briefly through the rain water on the ground, but knew better than to let up when they had their enemy on the ropes.

Ahead of them, he could see the Shuumie coming. Before it might choose to disappear into a crack he couldn't follow, Zari ripped the cover off a nearby trash can and launched it like a frisbee at the beast, only hoping to distract it for long enough to get close. Before his allies got here, he'd be around to punish its every attempt to escape.

Inside, with a reserved look on his face, young Zari tightly grabbed at his pants just above the knee as he sat kneeled on the floor next to Jarvis. The dichotomy between the angry, fearless older Zari and the free, but fearful younger Zari was striking in that moment, and the clear incompatibility with their wills. He didn't look to Jarvis, but it was clear he depended on him here.

Interacted & Mentioned: QuirkyAngel

 

[RedArmyShogun]

The Trio - Death Colosseum, Death City
​

As the pair went their own ways, Nadia would not go off for too long if possible as Dani wandered the halls she would chance upon her friend who looked a bit worse for the wear but otherwise seems fine as she headed out with purpose, two suitcases in her hands as she was making way for the VIP area, seemingly unaware of Dani as they neared an intersection.

Stumbling upon Maria, Dani looked at her with some surprise, more so that she seemed so alright. “The hell, you’re walking around?” She wondered aloud. Considering her doll carried her off the field, it was a bit surprising to see her carrying around luggage to boot.

“I would not say I’m fine, but I couldn’t leave these in the room… though I could have my dear Alicia carry these.. I had not considered that. Oh well a simple matter to go back for her or to find her. Or to just leave these somewhere for a little bit. And yours also walked back, do you think I am so weak? Though I am not strong enough to meet you and yours head-to-head with might alone. Though ah, yes, it is nice to see you Dani. Though, why are you here?” Saying all of this Maria stopped where she was but showed clear signs of the damage she took, though seemed unfazed by it, or maybe that was just the influence of her largely emotionless face.

“Stumbled back, and they look like shit now. Being hurt or not doesn’t make you weak, idiot,” Dani remarked as she approached the other. If she got any medical attention, it didn’t really show. “It’s pretty clear they don’t give a damn. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have to drag ourselves to a doctor or wrap ourselves up after this is done, so have your dolls carry your stuff and don’t overexert yourself.”

Looking at the girl’s face, it was hard to tell how much pain she was in. She was never very expressive, and Dani wasn’t a medic of any sort even if she could read the girl. “Just trying not to stab someone before my match…”

There was something in Maria’s eyes, a hit of understanding then of pity, or maybe not pity but something that felt a little sorry for the girl that she realized this now. Her brother was truly good to her, wasn’t he? “I purposely did not request a medic, I have a feeling the fights after ours will be much worse. I won’t say I feel all that well however and I do have some electrical burns, singes on my clothing and my hair looks like a mess. But Dani.. this is why I say you can trust Nadia as a partner at least. I cannot say the fact we are expendable bothers me much. Rather I try to be more useful.. In the Magic Guild, though times are trying to change and the situation is improving or at least having witches that care a little, the race of witches seem to see all others that are not them as trash of varying degrees of usefulness for the most part. I must work hard and train to be able to match them and I proved my worth..

You see Dani, my dear friend, superiority breeds contempt. Or rather Cyrus and his like, or even the witch family of one girl in my class, they may be powerful, but they are blinded by that power, they do not grow, they do not change, they cling to what they have and believe power always will be with them. They are wrong. So very wrong, Haha, but they don’t see that yet.”

She says while turning her head to the side in the vertical manner she seemed to do time to time, then straightening it she continues; “You need not worry too much about me, my mana is much like the wavelength of meisters or yours, in time it will heal my wounds, though I am no healer. I thank you for coming to see me however… But ah, we cannot speak long. You have a match here soon; I am sure Nadia is looking for you. But like birds on a wire watching a scarecrow. we all should get together after this, maybe to play your games or to have Tea with Nadia and listen to her records though… hmm I am not so sure you would like that.”

Dani growled a bit, but otherwise didn't interject at her words. She wasn't dense--or that dense anyway. She didn't believe that the DWMA was a charity that cared, or that Death didn't have some kind of ulterior motive aside from "helping the unfortunates".

"I'm not that fucking stupid! I don't expect or ask for anybody to pity me or give me sympathy, I just-" Pausing a moment to gather the words, her shoulders slumped slightly with a huff. "All I ask is that people don't go out of their way to fuck with me. I don't think that's asking for much!"

Dani couldn't contest much on the front of Cyrus and the others though. That just wasn't her. She didn't want to fight the status quo or prove something to them.

"That's you, Nadia, and Mikey. I don't wanna prove shit to them or fight and claw just to not be prodded… like that'll happen." Dani shook her head a bit softly, as if she realized she was venting to the mage. "Well, either way. Take it easy for a while. I'll talk to you later, assuming this whole thing doesn't go to complete shit."

“Hmm..” Looking at her for a bit as she spoke out, Maria releases one of her suitcases and stands up on her tiptoes to reach the top of Dani’s head and gives her a pat on top of her head. “There, there. When I was growing up, I was told it’s okay to be upset, but to never stop moving forward or you will just stay with the same feelings and same lack of worth. You are a good girl Dani. But you must continue to claw forward. There are glimpses and foggy memories I have of times I cannot speak of and in many ways, I am my mother’s child. My actual mother that I cannot recall, so it’s fine to be angry, or sad, even to cry.” Patting her a bit more, the injured mage then lowers herself to the flat of her feet, out of reach.

Dani began to turn but paused in her step as the smaller girl reached up and patted her on the head. Her eyes widened a bit in surprise at the gesture. Aside from it probably looking ridiculous, the smaller girl reaching up to console her, it also embarrassed her. Dani hadn’t come here to vent, certainly not to the other while injured. The mage was still scuffed and she was here bitching. Even so, it had its benefits on her, even if she still wore a grumpy face.

“...I ain’t crying… Just take care of yourself for a while,” She remarked after a brief pause, turning on a heel and proceeding back in the opposite direction to find Nadia. “I’ll see you later…”

“I shall, though you and your Meister should do so as well.”

And with that Maria went back about her way to have a talk with who she was here to see.

As she left however Nadia turned up more than a bit irritated as she waved down Dani and spat out. “Those bastards didn’t even tell me in advance! Come on, we need to go to the ready room, tch!” Interestingly Nadia chose to swear in English rather than Russian.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming. Not like they can start without us,” Dani remarked as she came upon Nadia. She couldn’t say she was happy, but she wasn’t wanting to stab someone anymore either.