Fandom Soul Eater: F.A.T.E

[RedArmyShogun]

Maria Mayer & Head of the Black Workshop Mirai - Death City the Colosseum
​

As the matches went from the break in her own to that of Nadia and Dani versus Ark and Raphael, Maria continued her talk with Mirai, stating what little she could of her two partners, they had not had that long together.

"Ark is an Elemental user primarily if I recall, Earth and fire. He is one of the more sensible of us." Maria says of her classmate.

"Ah, the boy whose family claims him when it's convenient and gets rid of him when it is not. All as he was a sorcerer and not a Witch. Though that may be the better fate, as otherwise he would just be used for marriage offers and breeding stock. A hero of Africa to some. Let us see what he is made out of." The Witch says in short order, waving her hand in a sweeping motion. "Let us see what he can do. Those two are your friends then I see? What a strange pairing a well-dressed maid and a grumpy tomboy. How on earth did you meet those two?"

"Well, Dani, the pink haired I kidnapped...well I helped. The one I hit with the box!"

"Ah, so she's the one you knocked out and abducted, how did that turn to friendship? And what of the Grey haired one?"

"Well Nadia and I live in the same building she was brazen enough to enter my basement and admired my wood crafts and invited me for tea. We have tea and listen to records and have little cakes and cookies, and I make furniture for her use to make the room look more suitable- Oh, the fight is starting, let's watch." Maria says turning her attention towards the window. And dodging the first question.

The two watch the fight largely in silence with Maria not wanting to cheer against her classmate as he displayed his full use of magic, Nadia seemed to make it out of his traps with brute force more often than not, while Ark for his part tried innovative ways to trip her up. It made for an interesting show, with the worst injury being when Nadia had thrown her knife into his leg. Fortunately, that could be fixed up in little time with how magic and healing worked. He had also roughed Nadia up a bit and forced her and Dani to physically throw themselves at him. It seemed very much like the usual fight one could expect with neither party all that worse for the wear and having finished their jobs.

They also talked for a bit, so she assumed Nadia had no ill feelings over it, though she could not tell what was being said. The one downside to being up here and not down there.

"Ah, I'm starting to see why and how he killed two Witches, well skilled for what Death has given him. And the former two star did about what I expected. Overly eager to throw herself into the offensive however." Mirai says as she seems to approve.

Maria for her part nods her head and speaks in turn, "Yes, he is rather powerful, though he has his reason for being here, he wished to show me what all he could do as part of a spar or training exhibition. As to Nadia, she is more akin to a predatorial animal than a person at times. I.. think I'll send an apple or a letter to the fellow by name of Thaddeus for blowing him up."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I may have to work with the other meisters sooner or later, the DWMA likes to send the magus as supports to partner teams. Or I could just send a letter. Such ideas are difficult."

"Hmm.. Well in three minutes and round two starts. Did you wish to visit anyone else?" With her question Maria was quick to shake her head side to side.

"I can't go where they are anyways and I did come here to see you, my... master."

With that the two do not say too much to one another as the third event began. There was immediately something off in the air as the two prodded and tested the other, with Nadia taking a more deliberate approach as she attacked some of the runes that were deployed upon the field, she took care to deflect and to endure what attacks she had no choice to do so, while the look on Raph's face became all the more twisted. More so after Nadia said something to him, then he began to talk at length, Maria had a bad feeling about this.

"When the cat is away the mouse shall play, but what happens when the mouse is a snake dripping his venom?"

"The Snake will start a fight to make the hothead even more so." Mirai adds in.

It was then that those who could feel the pull of madness or pick up the subtle differences in the soul that a visual key for those that could not sense it were given. Maria seemed a bit confused as if something didn't seem right about all this. "Is this resonace? Those two should not be able to do so, the house is on fire, and all is fine, but is it truly, or is it time for the die to be cast?"

"Not quite. Over the years I have lived this is normally something born of rage or desperation." There was a slight smile at the end of the last word she said as she continued on. "A false resonance, or so I've heard it called, there is a slight difference in the connection of the souls, but if they continue with it for long enough it could be a real merger, or resonance really."

With that Nadia and Dani seemed to take more risks while Raph was pushed further back, his attacks burning Nadia a bit here and there as she continued to bait and advance, it was a much more brutal fight than previous and every so often during the times they spoke the pink flame Dani gave off seemed to pulse. Watching the fight intensely the Climax ended up being when Nadia brought the sword right down upon Raph. Was she really trying to cut him in two?!

"Nadia! Though a snak-" Before she could say anything else she could hear an unintelligible yell of words Nadia turned the blade and the Flame from Dani died down as more words were seen by movements of the mouth. A broken shoulder or dislocated was a lot better than becoming two people. "A snake split in two does not grow an extra head, only the Hydra does that."

"Hmm. It reeks of madness, what were those two in here for? The Mage and the Weapon."

"Madness related ailments."

"Ah.. Who trigged who first I wonder?" Next Dani reverted to her human form and leaned against Nadia, who in kind seemed expended from most of her own energy and Raph was down.

"Oh, ho." Mirai says as she watches Raph get up to his feet, the two of them watch as he aimed for her shoulder in kind, saying some words, or so they assumed as his fist went low and at the right shoulder, as Nadia turned her head and back to say something, leading to his sneak attack with coiled chain hitting her in the back of the head, blood dripped down, easily spotted in her pale hair as red stood on the grey silver. And she rose up in a crouching jump and uppercuts him under the chin sending him flying back, with that the match was called as Cyrus gave Nadia what was likely a chewing out.

"It is a good thing their resonance failed, otherwise her life would be fairly interesting." Mirai says with a twisted grin as Maria had her hands along her face, with a crazed smile as her hands gripped at her eyes and jawline, Mirai had seen this look a few times and was not too concerned with it. "So, what shall you do now?"

With that Maria stays focused on the scene below with a stare that would make most wonder if she was not madness touched before some calm overcomes her. "Nothing. I will stay here and speak with you. Even if I left now, Raph will be sent to the DWMA Hospital, and I cannot get to where Nadia and Dani are. I shall just speak to them when all is done or watch a replay in the mage's room, then I will decide if I send someone to hell or not."

"How amusing."

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nadia Semyonov - Death City, The Colosseum​

With the battle over and won, Nadia did not find much to be happy about. What would she do to that son of a bitch? That was a question of the upmost importance, Dani nor she were likely to forget this day. Though it did show they could resonate, even if they were so inclined to do so out of a desire of hatred and vengeance, it was shown to be possible. That meant there was a reason to try working through this and how she had to rely on her knives repeatedly in these fights while Dani did have a ranged capability that she could not tap was a pressing matter.

His words had also had her wondering about the old gang, how were they? What had happened after her arrest? Did any of them actually die? Her family, well there was nothing that could be done about that, they were likely dead or had not sought her out if they were alive. Then there was that Bastard Cyrus, he had the nerve to mention her being on a high horse, if not for how fuzzy her head was and how spent her energy, she would have been a smartass with him and went "Of course I am, haven't you seen my height?" Well no, in reflection she would have told him to fuck off much like Dani had. Well, she had said for him to fuck himself...

Speaking of, there was the issue of Dani, the medics and Emmett could hover above them in the ready room. She wasn't about to linger in these halls, even if she were bleeding and burned a bit here and there. Dani was all sorts of messed up from the collar, though she was a bit thankful for the damnable things. Still, she did say Dani was not on her own anymore, with a grunt she continues to help the other along, stilling her mind for now, thoughts of other things could be done once this was all said and done. Moving onwards and into the ready room, Nadia sets Dani down on a bench as she flops down on a chair across from it, running a hand behind her head she scoffs.

"That fucking debil, I won't forget this, though I don't plan to go hunting for him. We did our job at least. Now everyone we know or remotely know, knows, well who cares, not like it was all that hidden. We just have to keep standing."

Interaction: EmperorsChosen @ any others in the briefing/ready room

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Daniella Ethalyn - The Colliseum
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Dani, still a bit groggy from the sedatives, plopped down onto the bench and leaned back with a lax posture. Her head was tilted slightly, her hair laying in such a way that her gaze was concealed. Her breathing with soft and any movement was slow and subtle, almost as if she had decided to take a nap upon reaching the room.

The Demon Weapon had predicted that today would be a shitshow, and she was unfortunately right. Cyrus' words still reverberated in her mind. This was supposed to be for their sake, though Dani wondered how the hell that added up. They were being used for amusement, like a circus, with that asshat goading on the crowd then bitching at them for cracking. If she weren't spent, dwelling on it would've just lit the fires again.

Beyond that, however; beyond all this, beyond the dandy telling them he'd kill them himself if they ever lost it, Dani was more worried about the implications of her madness affecting Nadia. That was the one thing she didn't need him to lecture about, nor could argue. It worked out this time, but what about the next? She couldn't just shut it off, all that anger. Especially not in this fucking environment where it felt like, to one extent or another, everything and everyone aside from five were out to screw with her. Even if she didn't drive her over the brink, her mistakes screwing over Nadia's progress wasn't something Dani could accept.

"...If... If you wanted to bail on me... after that... I'd get it..." Dani murmured a bit meekly, with a mixture of timidity as well as grogginess. "...but if you don't... I won't slow you down... I promise... Not again."

Interactions: RedArmyShogun

 

[QuirkyAngel]

Jarvis Briseis

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

“Oh wow! Look at the Ice Descendant go! I think she’s my favorite fighter in this competition so far~!”

Legs folded atop his seat in the stands, Jarvis nibbled on his “Death”-flavored Pocky Sticks while listening to Valerija comment on the battle below. He watched it too, of course, but his eyes occasionally searched out Zari in case the madness Dani resonated affected his meister somehow. It wasn’t as bad as the feedback loop that occurred when Gauss tried to resonate with Kasper, but you can never be too sure. It was enough to excite the crowd anyway…and get him a little bit hungry as well.

Then again, one didn’t have to be mad to want to see blood.

People like Valerija, who enjoyed watching fights, tended to enjoy the adrenaline rush. There was a certain thrill in competition, in watching others battle, that made sense from an evolutionary point of view if you consider human history. Bloodsucker history was no less…bloodless…though there weren’t enough of them to be actual wars. Not the kinds that humans tended to wage anyway. Jarvis glanced at Valerija, paling a bit when she licked her lips, and decided a conversation might distract her from secretly nabbing somebody and draining them. “Is that because she fights like you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The kind of fighter that just swung their demon weapon around and demanded that their weapon follow along, do all the work in managing wavelengths while they fight, etc. Or, at least, that’d been Jarvis’s experience whenever he and his bloodsucker “parent” paired…which only ever really occurred when they faced a common enemy on their journey. Frankly, Jarvis didn’t mind it. Compared to trying to match wavelengths with a human, doing so with a fellow undead was much easier. Val didn’t need any of the additional enhancements that came with wielding a demon weapon to defeat her foe either. She simply acknowledged him as a Weapon whenever they fought together and…strangely enough…seemed to know what she was doing despite not being a traditional DWMA meister.

The only reason they hadn’t ever resonated, even though they totally could was, was, well, Valerija Elvira didn’t really need it.

She didn’t seem eager to share the contents of her soul either.

Aloud, Jarvis answered. “A straightforward fighter...”

“Oh,” Valerija giggled, then winked at him. “I’ll use trickery when I face an opponent that actually requires it~”

The bloodsuckeress’s eyes followed the Nadia-Dani pair as one of Deathscythes serving Death the Second stopped them to lecture them. “What about you, Jarvis? Think you and your new partner can beat them?”

Jarvis shrugged, his eyes also following the winning pair as the Blue Reaper issued his warning to the FATE agents. As a bloodsucker, his ears were quite good even without the microphone on…though the expression on Cyrus’s face was telling enough…and given what happened in their recent battle against Raphael, it wasn’t difficult to guess why. The MIBVI virus outbreak had much of DWMA twitchy against madness…though madness itself was simply just a power. A force of nature no different from magic…yet not. Lord Kidd himself possessed the Madness of Order, or so he'd been told, its aura all throughout Death City. Bloodsuckers themselves were all created with an inner beast that could be likened to madness…though not really. It wasn’t infectious. It didn’t spread along the wavelength to taint others. It simply belonged to his soul.

Still, a power one couldn’t control wasn’t a very useful power. If anything, it became more of a detriment. From what he could see, both with what nearly happened in the library with Zari, and what happened in the arena below, the sorcerer Raphael seemed to be a master of goading people. Or an idiot.

“If they were as eager to spill blood as they were in this fight, maybe…though Zari and I aren’t as far along in our resonance as they seem to be.”

“Why ever not? You like him, don't you?”

Jarvis rolled his eyes. “That has nothing to do with it. A living creature trying to resonate with me is akin to plugging an electric guitar into the wrong sort of amp...difficult. Not to mention Azariah's issues with his madness. Thus far, we can only get to the state of near-resonance when he's under Calm Mind. ”

“But I thought all electric guitars these days–”

“My point is that it isn’t easy and we’re still working on it,” Jarvis interrupted, slumping back in his seat as Cyrus announced the next match–a werewolf, a witch, and a Hoshi. Jarvis wasn’t really invested in who won between Stitches and Witches, but Midori being in the fight did pique his curiosity. If he had to choose, he’d side with the people he was more familiar with…assuming Midori made it back in time to be Sara’s partner, of course.

If not, he kinda felt bad for Sara.

“Sure, sure.” Jarvis felt Valerija ruffle his hair, but was too lazy to swat it away. “Next up is your FATE mentor’s match, right? We should cheer him on~! Go get me some cardboards!”

“Cardboards…?”

“Pom-poms and a blow horn too if you can find them~”

Pulling his hood back over his hair, Jarvis slumped further in his seat. “Can't we just sit quietly...?” However, upon catching the pleading puppy look on Valerija's face, Jarvis let out an exasperated sigh and stood up, hands in his pockets. He got a feeling he'd regret it later if he didn't. "Fine. But I can't guarantee I'll find anything without leaving the colosseum."

Jarvis didn't know if the lockdown was still in place and he didn't want to deal with it.

 

[The Regal Rper]

Cedric | DWMA | Colosseum

She replied. Cedric's eyes widened just a little when she did, albeit doing so bashfully.

The smile maintained. It was good to see there was still something of her he at least recognized. That hint of bashfulness brought back memories of when it'd been him, her, Nexis, Lala, and Nickie. Maybe they hadn't hung out a lot as they both went their ways in DWMA, but Cedric had always felt among the many people that he entered the organization with, Nexis and Temp had always been the two outside of his own partners that really stuck out as people he had liked quite a bit.

So it made him feel uncomfortable to get the sense from her minor mannerisms, that maybe- just maybe, she really wish this wasn't happening right now.

If he could have sighed, he would have but he'd rather not give Temp the misconception he was sighing over something she'd said or done.

"Oh, uh, yeah yeah..." he answered awkwardly, drawing himself out of his thoughts. Had it been old times he would have pointed out that he was in the colosseum during a tournament, but he chose not to do that here. Didn't need to use his snark to give her the sense he was insulting her. That was the last thing he wanted, to give her more of a reason to push him away.

"What uh..." he glanced at where she was sitting, looked around, decided to seat himself a distance away from her- now completely ignoring the fight as if it wasn't any longer important. "What has Nex been doing lately?" He decided to ask. "Last time we talked was well...anyway, I uh, am happy to see you." He ventured with the same measured smile. Though a touch of strain in maintaining it was there now.

It wasn't a lie, he was happy to see her. Old friends in this kind of work were always nice to see- even if you didn't talk to them as much as you used to, to know they were still around, kicking and thriving was good for the soul.

In this case, as he activated his Soul Perception to get a slightly better read, from the way it bobbed inside her- Cedric wasn't sure if she felt the same. He couldn't exactly tell if she found this whole situation to be a nuisance or irritating. Detecting emotions in souls had never really been his forte or focus, more just focusing on the presence of nearby ones and the spikes that determined differences in power. Emotions were better to read on the faces of people rather than cheating with the use of one's soul.

Here though, he felt an exception to the rule was required. Though it did him little good. It was hard to tell from the feeling she gave off if she was nervous about meeting him again after so long or if she just didn't want to meet him again after so much time.

He hoped it was the former, it'd certainly suck if it was the latter.

Cedric decided to steer the conversation.

"What have you been up to lately? Aside from yknow" he bobbed his head in the direction of the ring a distance away and the fight occurring there.

Mentions: N/A

Interactions: FireMaiden

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Emmett James

Interacted & Mentioned: Sir Les Paul The Regal Rper Merciless Medic Meredith EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun​

It didn't take long to gather all the pieces. Emmett was a surveillance system unto himself, and each time a question of confidentiality was dodged by his peers he rephrased the question and pulled rank as needed to extrapolate the information he sought. The arena had been infiltrated, an attempt was made to bust out the former Enlightener och Team Arrow, and had been violently subdued by the DWMA security. Though the prospect initially turned his stomach as the DWMA neared a totalitarian level of security, he was forced to concede that even with the staff on hand it was over those agents job description to risk bodily harm for the sake of non-ethality. After all, the Enlighteners were competent and mysterious, any of the unconfirmed members involved could've been serious risks - and combat at that level always lead to collateral damage.

He wasn't ignorant to the other goings on either. As he made his way to the nearest functional DWMA terminal and set up his own workspace to quickly type up a journal entry on the details of the affair and submit a request for permission to act in favor of Midori should he need assistance with all this - as he so often did with any strange occurrences that came his way - he overheard the outburst from Thea via one of his tactically left behind TACS in that room. Not even he could not help but feel a tinge of anger at her despicable outburst, but he knew better than to let emotions take control in a situation like that. He knew Zelda was around to handle it, even if he had the flaw of constantly wanting to be on top of everything by himself. Thea was part of the famous meister Herakles' group of formidable demon weapons, and though they were respected and efficient members of the DWMA's top brass, this incident was more than enough evidence to begin considering their standing. No three star agent should ever conduct themselves in such a manner, especially not toward fellow agents in a professional setting. The verbal abuse, public humiliation, and even sexual humiliation against agents she did not even personally know implied an underlying issue that needed to be investigated.

And so, one report turned into two. One request form for Lord Kidd, one harassment report for Cyrus with the audio file of the altercation attached. Zelda had handled the situation exemplary, and Emmett felt better. With one eye he analyzed the following matches through a second monitor to his left, what with the internal report process being ingrained into his mind for the thousands of times he'd utilized it. In fact, he was fairly certain that outside of HR he was probably the most fervent user of it. The only itch in the back of his mind was wondering what kind of target it might paint on his back to report on higher ranking colleagues - but that idea was more humorous than alarming.

He was surprised to see Thaddeus was even allowed on for a second bout after all that damage. By all reason it should've been a default and win for the witches, but he carried on and suggested it be solved with a coin toss. Surprisingly, it was the witch Chanterelle who suggested they duke it out in martial arts, and frankly, given Thaddeus' martial history, that was probably a bad idea for her. Still, Emmett was troubled that Thaddeus agreed to it and sidelined both of his weapons in what was supposed to be a friendly showcase of capabilities - but he couldn't delude himself enough to have ever expected that's how things were going to turn out in F.A.T.E.

It was a bloody slugfest, desperate and uncomfortable to look at. Thaddeus didn't pull his punches, and brutalized Chanterelle to the point where she might suffer some level of permanent injury from it. Chanterelle's magic did end up becoming the victory condition as Thaddeus groggily stumbled across the arena under the influence of it. Pfft, amateur. As each of them were removed from the stadium, he was once again ambushed by the thought that this arena business was a bad idea - and so far it seemed that was correct.

The stalwart and stubborn Nadia with the madness-struck Dani was one of his main concerns, but when they stepped out to face former war hero Ark, Emmett liked the look in their eyes. It was to be expected that a born soldier would work well under pressure, and that Nadia could work out some frustrations by beating on an opponent. Ark was, as far as Emmett knew, a very capable sorcerer and not unlikely to be the most conventionally capable member of the mages' F.A.T.E programme. It was surprising to see someone with a record of his calibur struggle to push back Nadia - even if only to save on collateral damage. Nadia, on the other hand, made excellent use of her natural sturdiness and strength to make obsolete his earth conjuring. Frankly, he'd never seen a descendent of the giants in action, and what she displayed dwarfed his expectations based on what he'd read in her files.

But it was one thing fighting an honorable opponent in traditional combat, another entirely to duel a trickster like Raphael with words. What Prudence and Noah had said in the classroom paled in comparison to his rough and manipulative tactics. He tore into them, showing his trademark habit of researching his opponents just to see where they hurt. If he put half that effort into coming up with an effective counter strategy or trying to help people, Emmett wondered what force of nature he'd become. Alas, as it stood, it became roughly the one-sided beat down that he'd been expecting. Nadia and Dani were strong, no doubt why they'd been given a second chance through the programme. More alarming was the quasi-resonance they began falling into nearing the end of the altercation, and Emmett found himself too distracted by the fight to multi-task. Contrary to what one might expect, up until that point he felt relatively at ease with his students. This, though, unless the Spellbreakers and Cyrus could operate at speeds far beyond his understanding, could very well lead to another poor soul's infestation of madness. He watched closely, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief as Nadia's stubborn nature seemed to ride out and endure the aggressive intermingling. He really needed a day off after all this.

It appeared someone didn't share his sense of relief though, as near the end of the live feed Cyrus cornered the duo on the way out of the arena. If he knew Cyrus right, he'd only intervene like this if he was pissed. Seemed odd, given he was the one with vested power in him to stop the proceedings at any time he wanted. Once again, more seemed to simmer 'neath the surface than what meets the eye. Emmett only hoped he didn't rile up Nadia and Dani anymore. They'd had enough for one day.

He pressed send on his filled out forms, then powered his station down and returned everything to their places. Barely did he pass the threshold of the room before an assistant’s voice sparked through his ear piece, informing him that he was requested to examine Nadia and Dani for any potential consequences following the faux resonance.

“Thank you, I’ll be right there.”

---------------------

A couple minutes later he stepped onto the threshold of the room. They two combatants looked about as bruised and beaten as they had been in the arena, but aside from Dani’s clearly sedated state their spirits didn’t seem to have dimmed. It seemed to have provoked thought, maybe stood their relationship on its end - but that kind of contention could be good for the heart.

“May I congratulate you on a victory well fought?” He said, pushing off from the door frame to step closer to the two. “Don’t suppose Cyrus ambushed you just to wish you well on your recovery.” He added with a sarcastic undertone, and passed the giantess to take a knee in front of her partner. Now on eye-level, he asked her “How are you feeling, Ms. Ethalyn? Aside from the obvious, I mean.”
​

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nadia Semyonov - Death City, The Colosseum​

As Dani went on with her words, Nadia has a brief annoyed expression to her face as she pondered getting up and walking over to the girl, least she meant well. "Dani. Today has been a very..." A pause, "...yes, a very difficult day. We both seen glimpses of the other's memories. I said you were not alone in this, and I meant what I said. And damn right you won't slow me down, I'll drag you with me if I must." With a confident gaze she nods her head. "It is too late for either of us to turn back now, but I don't think we'll try resonating again just to destroy something, da?"

It was then that Emmett made his presence known which his words angered her a little, more of at the situation than the man himself. "Well Fought? Everyone seems to judge these fights by the fact I'm not coming out of it or making my foe come out of it half dead that I am some superhuman that wiped them aside. If it were well fought my clothing would not be marred, I would not have some burns and soil would not stain my flesh and I would not be bleeding in places. When I am hit, I continue to move. Pain is a sign you are alive, letting it be the focus of your mind is how you die. My father and a trainer at the dojo in Reno always said if you have time to cry about an injury then that is time better spent in moving forward or returning that pain to them."

Saying all of this as he looked over Dani, Nadia seemed a bit irritated. And with the other reminders of the day, she just let things roll off of her tongue.

"Durning a good chunk of my youth there was little food or grave dangers, in my time in the DWMA I also pressed my weapons hard and would raise up the ranks from toughening it out. Did they really think some pain alone would make me stall? That damn bastard said to get off my high horse!" With that Nadia throws a bit of a tantrum showing that she wasn't always so snide as she threw her remaining knife against the walls of the ready room as it clanked off the stone, not imbued with the strength she had at the fight, while she may hide it under an icy exterior her energy was spent.

"I Expect Strength of others! There is but so much I can carry if they don't aspire! Why should I for them?! Then that other bastard reminded me of things I rather left alone!" With that she slumps in the chair and runs her left hand against her head wound.

"Now I have thoughts of finding those I abandoned to save them from pain... Well, no, I was arrested and didn't have much of options. I could not return to them, but I should see how they fared, will they even wish to see me again? Sasha, Pavel, Dimitri, Artyom, Nina, Nataylia..." Stopping there as if reconsidering she turns her attention towards Emmett.

"Take care of Dani for now then see to me that I have no Madness, Cyrus was rather insistent on that." With that she huffs a bit. "Well asides from threatening to kill us, bragging about his score on kills over me, threatening with expulsion us both, or me with deportation, as if I fucking hate the Rodina! He did give me something to think on. I did not ever understand his motivations with that first test you know, but for one to talk about horses, he's riding on the back of a mammoth."

With that she goes for her flask that had been undamaged in the fight. "Hah. Something good." Taking a swig as she opened it quickly with a couple twists, she tosses it over towards Dani and Emmett, screwing the cap back on before doing so. "Have a drink if you want, you both could use a sip."

Interactions: EmperorsChosen Prizzy Kriyze

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Daniella Ethalyn - The Colliseum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

The pink-haired weapon didn't say anything outright toward Nadia's consolation, though whether that was as a result of the collar or just normal depression couldn't be seen. She did give a slight nod, however. She meant what she said before, she wouldn't let what happened to Mikey happen to another. It was no longer an option to just avoid everything given she was paired with a meister, that was just increasing the risk of history repeating itself. Even though she wouldn't be a social butterfly, she could at least put forth some effort with Nadia.

Plus, a small, petty part of her just wanted prove Cyrus wrong and piss him off.

As Emmett entered, Dani's posture didn't change much. She was still slumped lazily on the bench, her head turning only slightly to look toward the door. Grumbling in addendum to Nadia's retorts, Dani found herself using the term "shit-show" quite a bit. The moniker still seemed to fit. At the mention of Cyrus, the Demon Weapon seemed to expend a bit more energy to insult him.

"Two-faced fuck... He said it was for our sake... eat my ass," Dani growled as her profanities deteriorated into grumbling. "Wished we're dead... if anythin'..."

As Emmett came around and kneeled in front of her, he could see that her eyes were half-narrowed in a droopy scowl. She took a bit longer to respond to his question, her processing speed a bit shot. "...I wanna sleep... but I don't... Sore... Foggy..." She listed off.

Seeing Nadia throw the flask, Dani reached her hands out to catch it and completely failed to. Her arms, once outstretched, plopped back into her lap in defeat as the container fell between her legs and onto the floor. She grumbled a bit before slowly leaning forward and retrieving it, then looked at it a bit. "...I wanna... but it's gonna knock me the fuck out..." She commented before slowly holding it out to offer to Emmett.

Interactions: RedArmyShogun Prizzy Kriyze

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Rand Mabason​

"Soundwave Sorcerer"​

Species Witch
Partner N/A
Rank Two Star

Location Death City, The Colosseum, Left Wing
Mission The Exhibition Tournament
Status Defeated, frustrated

​

Mentions: Merciless Medic The Regal Rper Meredith Prizzy Kriyze

They managed to lose. Raph couldn't keep his mouth shut. Couldn't just focus on the fight. Couldn't just be aggressive. Ark was too noble for his own good. The damn guy was known for tearing apart jungles, but all he did was make a few pillars? If not for the eye in his forehead, he'd be ramming it against the wall. Maria decided to suicide bomb Gauss, Chanterelle fist fought him. And, now a loss. The Mage team must have appeared to be absolute garbage. Perhaps it was his elitist tendencies, or his perfectionism, but Rand just was on edge at the moment. Each consecutive thing was just pushing him closer and closer and closer to some anger-filled fiery pit.

Maria had already left, but her protests about this being a farce only emphasized her ignorance.

Chanterelle didn't display any of her actual magical prowess. Her Blood Magic could have been a spectacle, instead she was in the hospital with Gauss and all her blood did was land him there.

Ark fought like a neutered dog in comparison to the war wolf he was acclaimed to be.

And Raph was returning after literally having the bitch slapped right out of him only for it to be reimplanted when he took a pot shot at a melee range Meister.

Rand wanted to explode. He wanted to just erupt on everyone in the room. Had the remaining mages remembered what Iris was like, Rand was about to show them just how similar they were in temper. But, but, he didn't. He caught himself. He was intended to be a role model. As angry as he was now, if he let it explode now, he would only be setting an example to be used against him later. So, instead, he only bottled it up. Raphael would eventually return, and Rand would say literally nothing to him. Because nothing he wanted to say was constructive.

Instead, he stepped off the stone stairs of a platform he was using to not appear as short as he was and made his way over to Iris. "Cousin," he said in a brief, but pointed tone to get her attention. If his eyes were the floodgates for his anger, then what was behind his looked like dam ready to burst. His face was stone cold, as always, with the only tell of his irritation being an uncontrolled twitch specifically under his left eye. "I need you to absolutely shit stomp in your next match. I want just one thing to happen today to make us look competent. I don't care about Paean or Midori; I don't want another humiliation," he said to her. It wasn't demanding. It wasn't demeaning. It wasn't his normal, condescending tone. It was quiet like a request for a refill at any local diner. It was restrained and lackluster.

It had to be, else it would be an explosion with cutting words and insults that would do no one any good. All he could do was kindly ask Iris... to win.

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Emmett James

Interacted & Mentioned: Sir Les Paul EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun​

There was... a lot to unpack in the word avalanche that ensued from Nadia. Was fighting an opponent that could land hits on you not well-fought? Who was it that wasn't aspiring? Emmett wouldn't be so brazen as to guess at her thought process, but it seemed something had clicked or changed inside her. Just a moment ago she conceded that she wouldn't let Dani slow her down, but encouraged that she'd drag her along if she must - in spite of her reoccurring logic that dragging along the weak would only harm them more. Emmett met her eyes when she spoke directly to him with thinly veiled curiosity playing at his features. "Confidence is key, pride is poison - but I don't take you to be the type to overestimate yourself. It's all politics Nadia, you needn't take it to heart." He turned back towards Dani and continued, "At the risk of sounding awfully cliché, I want to tell you that you have to decide for yourself what matters in your life. Cyrus represents the DWMA out of his own cynical lenses, but what he tells you doesn't have to be true unless you let it." As he spoke, he began removing the small silver rings that adorned his fingers. "I think anyone out there with half a mind to analyze the situation based on what issues you were submitted to F.A.T.E for in the first place would be impressed. Raphael's fighting style relies on goading his opponents, and he really isn't bad at it. You had both madness and a murderous wavelength against you. I don't know if I could show that restraint, had I been in your position."

He leaned to one side and dodged both the tossed flask and a potential lawsuit in case he should be caught drinking with his students, but it had the unfortunate consequence of hitting Dani - though she really didn't seem to mind. She offered him the vodka and he offered her a small smile in return, as he gently took it from her to set it aside and instead softly gripped her hand. "I'll do what I can about that, even if my wavelength isn't healing." His voice was pedagogical, slow and carefully parsed. Through their touch his calm was broadcasted via his wavelength into her, and with practiced precision he walked the outer line of what resonation meant. He could feel her madness deep inside, but expertly sidestepped its attention when it stirred at his presence. He could prod deeper, touch at the personal depths of her being, but Emmett wasn't one to interest himself in the secrets of others. Not one to violate a person's most private place. He was only here to check up on her.

You've certainly been served a rough lot, Ms. Ethalyn. A wavelength capable of killing you if too furious and a madness that stirs anger to boot. He whispered to her through their link, and within the thin and bare connection he'd formed with her he stepped over the metaphorical wreckage of her internal world and looked around. Shit bitch you live like this? Was an impulsive thought way in the back of his head he felt mildly embarrassed about, but with Dani's condition he wasn't sure if she'd even caught it. You feel torn. Are you willing to meet me halfway, should I find you, or would you rather I leave?

It had been some time since he'd felt anyone but Zelda's soul, but it was like riding a bike. Years of experience with suppressing madness without even the use of a beneficial wavelength had him fearless and competent in resonating with anyone, even those troubled ones under his tutelage. It was, after all, where his natural talents lied. Spiritually bending like a straw of grass against the wind to avoid the gusts of darkness, standing like a fortress against its attacks. Just as he asked Dani to freely share her space with him, did he lay himself bare to her scrutiny if she so desired.
​

 

[EmperorsChosen]

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

"I'll think on critiques," Eloise remarked with a smirk.

Though eloquent with her words, she wasn't exactly a poet or a songwriter. So, beyond some shallow assurances or criticism, she had nothing deeper at the moment.

As he moved on to the topic of trust, her smirk widened slightly, as if giving him affirmation that no, she was not of the opinion that she needed that mutual trust. At least, she didn't need it in any kind of complex fashion. If two people could trust each other's motivations, then they could work together. Being on edge would lead to complications down the line. She didn't need anyone to like or love her though, not necessarily.

Her smirk slightly dripped into a stoic frown as Stein continued to prod. By this point, she wasn't surprised necessarily. Elly knew he was sharper than he let on. Though given all that he'd either spoken to some analyst that worked on her case or she should raise her expectations when dealing with him.

With regard to what he said, there was a lot to unpack, and a lot to respond to, but she didn't. The girl simply listened to his analysis as he deconstructed her thoughts and motivations. Eloise wasn't clueless or lacking in self-awareness. She knew all these things and it wasn't as if she felt she needed help to get around them or that they were reprehensible. It was merely the fact that he looked at her and figured all that out. That, or someone else did and he was parroting. Either way, she didn't like being read as much as reading others.

Just as he had mentioned security, Eloise felt secure when she was in the driver's seat. If she wasn't, she had her hands on the wheel. Control. That's what she needed. If she had control, some manner of it, she could keep everything in check. This was the first step to regaining some manner of control in her life. Her own blood offed each other for status, why in Death's name would she ever fully trust someone else, or care for some arbitrary value in them as a human? Everyone was out for themselves, and Elly was no different, just more honest than most, to herself at least.

Finally, as he finished, the woman let out a bemused huff as the smirk returned. "You're free to give it a go. Though if you do, you'll want to work on the security bit a tad more," She replied as she stood up. As amusing as it the encounter was, their business was finished and he was scratching at too many chips for her liking.

"I do thank you for the coffee and lovely conversation," She chimed as she circled the table, pausing as she reached Stein's back. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and leaned over slightly to whisper into his ear, more for her own dramatics than actually concealing anything. "And at least wait for the scarabs to kick in before you try prodding at the workings my heart, hm Ulysses?" Her voice was a mix of sultry and whimsical. She was an actor of sorts as well, after all, and required her own exaggerations.

Stepping back from him, a more genuine-looking smile appeared on her face as she gave him a wave in departure. "Tata~ I'll try reaching out before my pod meets to test it."

Interactions: Sir Les Paul

 

[EmperorsChosen]

Daniella Ethalyn - The Colliseum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~​

Dani stared at the man in front of her with an unsteady gaze for a moment. "...You're right.... it is cliche..." She replied tired.

He sounded like her therapist in that moment, but Dani didn't have that kind of headstrong attitude. She nipped and bit at any vitriol sent her way, but the truth is she did take things to heart. In a similar vein, while she was scared to let people in out of fear she would lose them, she also didn't want to see them hurt, even the assholes. Her brother was always the opposite. Every slight was a challenge and he was oh so eager to prove someone else wrong. If he was in her place, he'd have been meeting Cyrus with a shit-eating grin, telling him to wait and see, and then promptly running his mouth when he achieved victory. She didn't have that confidence, though at least now she saw it didn't matter. She had to try, at least.

"...I'm pretty sure you're the only one who sees it that way... I wanted to kill him..." She remarked coldly. Even the damn board was right. There was no reason anyone else should step on eggshells around her or care about her situation. That didn't mean she could rip and tear anything that pissed her off. It wasn't an excuse, and it couldn't be used like one if this was how the program was going to be, or else she really would screw Nadia over, or anyone else around her for that matter.

Letting him take the flask from her, Dani was relatively passive, allowing him to do whatever he was planning to. Perhaps it was the combination of the sedative and the nature of his wavelength, but Dani found it much easier to focus on the beat of his soul. A calmness washed over her, even though she was already fairly tranquil from the collar and energy expended. She didn't say anything toward his comments, either having nothing to add or being too tired to needlessly.

Her "world", if it could be called that, was dark and rocky. A cave system that seemed to snake and split off in almost mazelike fashion. Brief sources of light littered the cave in the form of florescent stones and ore, but otherwise, it was cold, dim, and empty.

"...I-It's fine... you're already here, anyway..." She remarked a bit hesitantly. "...I haven't been able to come here in a while... I can try, your wavelength is easy to feel for."

Her brother and her usually wound up close by, but they were also family and familiar with each other. The silver lining was that Emmett's wavelength was like a trail of breadcrumbs or, more accurately, a beat reverberating through the system to give her an idea of where to go. Dani followed the sound, trailing through the system until she came upon a larger clearing with more illumination than most. In the middle was a metal post with a chain tied to it, the other end broken and laying loosely on the ground.

Dani let out a sigh at the sight before moving onward to meet with Emmett.

Interactions: Prizzy Kriyze

 

[FireMaiden]

Temperance Quills
Location: DWMA Colosseum
Interaction: The Regal Rper (Cedric)
Mentioned: N/A
Temperance knew that question about why he was here was...stupid. But it was the first thing that came to mind to help carry the conversation forward. She didn't want to push him away, not really, but him being there was bringing up a myriad of conflicting emotions. The woman was happy, to see him, friends in this line of work should have been easy to come by. Temperance wasn't good at making friends, and her trust issues didn't make it any better. Cedric was one of the few people she could consider a friend, and maybe he still considered her one? As part of Temperance's therapy, she was told to remain low contact with everyone outside of her therapist and family, some sort of...reset? Cedric didn't really get an explanation so she didn't expect him to act as anything other than civil. "Last time we talked..." Probably over a year at this point, Temperance let out a small sigh, a hand moving to rub the back of her neck again. "Nex is still in physical therapy, but they've started training with the support staff. Paperwork, office life, all that," She said, relaxing a small bit. It was easier to talk about Nexis.

"They're trying to master wheelies with their new chair. It's uh...so far it's not working," Temperance managed to chuckle. For a few moments, it seemed like she was trying to ignore his second comment about being happy to see her. On some level, it made her feel better, but then again it made her...guilty? Maybe that wasn't the right work but it felt like it. "It's good to see you too. I'm uh... I'm sorry about the way I was acting last time we saw each other," Temperance said, her voice trialing off as she spoke. Not that Temperance didn't entirely believe she was in the wrong, but Cedric deserved an apology. The person she had been accusing did too, but Temperance wasn't ready to face that yet. There was a lot she wasn't ready to face.

So the next question he asked was a bit difficult to answer. Temperance knew what the stigma was around F.A.T.E agents was. Not that she could remember how exactly Cedric felt about them, or if he had even mentioned it at all. But being honest was important right? "Therapy, mostly," Temperance mumbled. "I...I realized I needed help, decided to step away from the field for a while to try and get better." It wasn't the entire truth, and he could probably put two and two together, Cedric wasn't exactly an idiot. "I've also prefected my naan recipe," She added with a small smile. Cooking was easy to talk about as well.

"What have you been up to?"

 

[simj26]

Miroku

​

She couldn’t take the noise. The roars, the static charge present in the tournament, everything there just didn’t jive with her. What point was there in fighting if there was to be no blood spilled, no threat to either of the duelists’ lives. Without death threatening their very existence in the world, she found it all to be a farce. There was no inherent value to a clumsy scuffle. She had to admit, she was marginally interested, until the realisation hit her. Rather than participate, she decided to partake in the only sort of past time she actually enjoyed- training until every bone and muscle in her body was sore. Even that was starting to become a little difficult. She pulled herself up again, and again, and again. Even with the weights strapped onto her legs, she felt that she was only exerting the barest amount of effort. Displeased, she released her grip on the pull up bars, landing heavily on the ground. She picked up more weights, and attached them to the chains that she bound around her abdomen, then leapt back up onto the bars.

There it was. That strain. Finally. She started again. 1. 2. 3. 4. After that, she stopped counting, and just kept pushing. She had to get stronger. She was still weak. Even after all of this, she was still weak. Even after all those years of honing her strength, she was still weak. There was still so much more to improve. Her own weakness disgusted her- it made her furious. She needed to get stronger. She needed to break that wall. She needed more, if not power, then strength. That want, that hunger, that fury were the only things that kept her going, until she could go no further.

She was broken out of the trance when an annoyingly familiar voice piped up from behind her. She had powered through her reps, ignored the growing soreness in her arms, but that voice provided the opposite effect of her trance. She had left the dorms, disappeared from the place, vacated her usual hideouts, in trepidation that this would happen. It still happened again. He easily ruined her gnawing appetite. She just couldn’t perform while he was around. She liked to think that the anger that she channeled towards herself and That Witch was channeled towards him instead, transformed into irritation. She allowed herself one more, before dropping down from the bars.

"Not anymore,” she growled, the caustic tone wholly undisguised. She tied her hair behind her into a long ponytail, before retrieving her bottle of water, ignoring the sweat that dripped down from her body. She cast the young man a withering look. On a weaker-willed being, they would have shrunk and scurried off, but these people were a different breed. Always so ready to get too close to her fangs. She took a large gulp of water. Always trying to help her. She could see it in his face, always so kind, too kind. She chose this path, she was going to go down that path, no matter what. She was a lost cause, she was simply a lone wolf seeking to tear out the throat of the one who killed her pack, her family. Why did he bother? She could never understand him. What she did understand, however, was that he was not going to leave her alone until she provided an answer to keep this trivial small talk going. She supposed she should just needle him until he gave up and left her alone, crawling back to the raucous crowd. That was more his size anyway.

“What do you want?”

Interactions: Gav ( The Regal Rper )

 

[The Regal Rper]

Gav & Miroku

03/11/2067
Training Grounds | DWMA

“I can’t swing by to check up on you and say hello?” a brow jerked up. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, I thought you’d be somewhat happy to see me.” Gav said with a hint of mock accusatory disappointment. Crossing his arms as he stared at her, then looking back at the weights she had lugged all the way out here to the training grounds.

“How’s things been going?” He asked, switching gears, the sense of mock humor gone from his voice as his eyes moved back up to look at her.

How’s things been going? A stupid question. He already knew the answer. Or he should. Like a muzzled dog. They had to keep an eye on her, or someone was going to bite it. She folded her arms across her chest, and scowled. “What do you think?”

“I think you like training by yourself too much.” Was his immediate comment. “You come out here everyday?” He asked, moving past her, grabbing one of the weights and testing it. “How long do you stay out here training?”

She didn’t need to answer, but something told her that if she didn’t, he’d just keep pressing her. “I don’t need distractions. Alone is good for me. Keeps me focused.” He snorted.

“Are you expecting to be alone when you join FATE with whatever group you end up in?”

She hesitated. "No," she said slowly. "But once I'm done here, they're gone from my life." This chase was hers, and hers alone.

“I should have been done with you after I stopped you from jumping my teammates. That was months ago, remember?” He grinned, dropped the weight to the side, and shrugged. “I’m here right now aren’t I? You think your future teammates are going to be ‘done with you’ when you’re done with this program?”

She grit her teeth. "You should have," she said quietly, "and they should." The path of blood will end one way or another. There was no sense in bringing someone else into it. This was her fate.

Gav merely chuckled. Probably wasn’t the best reaction given the seriousness of the conversation, but he did it anyway. “Miri”, the nickname came out of nowhere, “if you’re going to get rid of me, I’ll need to be dead and my soul will have to have moved on from this world before you’re truly rid of me.”

“Look,” he moved over to the shade of a tree’s branches, and leaned over on the trunk, away from the sun. “I get it”, and he did because he’d done his research on her- pulled some strings, got some answers from colleagues that had once been in the program with her the same time he had been also. “You’ve got a task set out for yourself and nothing, no one, no force on this planet or in this world is going to stop you short of death.”

“But” he held a finger up at her, his eyes cold “you keep going down this route, and just like all those other times you went rogue, thought you found a clue, and ended up doing something crazy like attacking a mage in a group like mine, all you’re going to do is end up getting yourself if not gravely wounded, then you’ll be dead.”

He paused for only a second, then added: “Or worse, you’ll take a path where some of us”, he didn’t stress the ‘us’, but it was implied in his tone, “will end up having to hunt you down.”

“I doubt your parents would want that for their daughter.”

She snarled audibly at the mention of her parents.

“I” he raised his voice in case she might cut him off, “ain’t here to say I know you and give you platitudes. The old me wouldn’t have given a shred of much concern about you unless it conflicted with my own personal goals. You and I are the same in that manner. Both of us had set goals we were willing to watch or let everyone and everything burn in our path if it meant we’d get it. I nearly fell into that fully. I personally like you. I’d rather not see you fall down the route I was going for my goals either. So do me a damn favor, grit your teeth and deal with people getting nosy in your life. Because I’m certainly not leaving you alone-” he nodded his head towards DWMA’s silhouette behind them, “who knows who you’ll meet in there that will be just like me.”

She wasn't ready to admit it out loud just yet, but he had planted that gnawing bud at the back of her mind. She looked down at her bandaged arms, the scars dotting her marred body, and clenched her fist. Stronger. She had to get even stronger. He was right. She needed them now. The only path forwards was either to bear with it, or get even stronger. Go even further. Until then, he was right. For all of his romantic ideals, he was right. How she hated him for being right. After a long, awkward quiet between them, she finally relaxed, and sighed. "Whatever," she muttered. "I assume you're not just here to deliver a lecture." She paused to study his expression. "Unless you were. Then you've probably got other places to be."

He smiled, changing almost completely. “That was actually the only reason I came here. I’m free for the next few days. Don’t have anywhere to be right now, so” he clapped his hands, rubbing them together, “got anything you want to do, sights to see? I’ll be your tour guide. Or escort- whichever works better.”

How irritating. “If you really want to be a tour guide, you ought to be the one to give suggestions.”

“Where we go depends on what you want to do or see in that case.”

“Come on. That’s not helpful at all,” she huffed. “I don’t need to see or do anything, and if I don’t need something, I don’t want it.”

He rolled his eyes, scratched his cheek. “Alright uhh…” he eyed her. “Ever been to the Boghorn Grounds? It’s this entertainment place that aside from food and music, its got this little sparring event they do where people can sign up. I planned on heading there later, but we could go there now if you want. Unless, you’d rather do something else aside from punching stuff?” He quirked a brow.

At the mention of food, her expression lit up, but quickly darkened back to its gloomy glare. “I guess…food sounds nice. I’m not too interested in the noise from the sparring.” She wisely left out her particular beef with ‘sparring’. No doubt, it would lead to another lecture.

A small, wry little grin spread across his face. “Did you just smile at the mention of food.” The smugness in his tone dripping as he began walking down the path out of the training grounds that’d take them towards their route. “Hehehe, guess I know the way your heart is your stomach, ah? Hahaha!”

She clicked her tongue as she followed after him. “It’s a necessity. Without fuel, an engine cannot run. Without food, I cannot train.”

“Hah! Figured you’d say that. Alright Miri, let's get you stuffed.” Leaving the Training Grounds behind, the two headed towards their next destination.

Mentions: N/A

Participants: simj26

 

[RedArmyShogun]

Nadia Semyonov - Death City, The Colosseum​

Listening to Emmett's words, Nadia just grunts in acknowledgement or more of a "heh" sound. "Yes, yes it's all politics, always has been as far as I've noticed being in here. Either way I have things to think about." With that she finally gets up from the seat and grabs the flask that Emmett sat aside as she snickers a little and says, "My what principles. Though not a bad thing." Pocketing the flask back where she retrieved it.

As he went on with the words about Dani, the former two star, thought of voicing her own remarks but knew better than to disrupt the attempt he was making to get the madness back under control, though Dani seemed mostly alright if not a bit even tempted. Just how strong were these collars? She hoped to never know. She had found the only reason she broke the connection was because the feeling was overwhelming, intoxicating. It promised great power and was filled with bloodlust. While Dani always gave off the feeling of the later this was different, wrong in a manner. And Nadia was not given to being controlled, if not upon her sudden realization and refusal to kill Raph, there is no telling what would have happened. Well, no, that wasn't true, the DWMA would have stopped it before she got that far. Or was it an excuse to get rid of three problems?

Still for one that worked by getting into the heads of others, that Mage proved rather easy to prick in kind. Banishing such thoughts for now, Nadia continues past the pair and out the door and finds a medic before returning with a first aid kit, having insisted on seeing to her own wounds personally. First was the matter of her bleeding scalp, unfurling a bandage, she wraps it around her head only using what was needed to cover the wound and to support it. DWMA personnel were taught accelerated means of healing via the spirit or magic, so she was not too overly concerned with the wound. Next were the places her skin got burned, cut and scuffed, rolling up her sleeves and gloves, puts burn ointment on the locations after cleaning them with an alcohol scrub. Rising back to her feet with kit in hand, Nadia then goes for the knife she threw and puts it back in its holder, the 2nd knife was likely with the cleanup crew, and she would retrieve it later

Glancing back at Dani and Emmett, Nadia finally says something, "Not sure I'll be of much help, but if you need it let me know." There were still some wounds under her clothing gear but she would go to locker room or bathroom for that. Not that she didn't trust the two here... Well, not fully, but still, it is of poor manners.

Interactions: No one really but a little towards EmperorsChosen and Prizzy Kriyze

 

[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 Elated, interested

​

Mentions: EmperorsChosen

She was, in fact, quite the individual. Watching her walk away was almost as interesting as listening to her banter back and forth. Ulyesses was quite sure this thread hadn't quite been entirely woven yet, and he was admittedly quite curious to know what type of weaver miss Eloise would be. More than anything, though, he had to admit she was bold. That was definitely an attention-grabbing move, walking behind him just to drop that line. Cliche? Maybe. He had plenty of seductresses try something similar, but that wasn't the point. This girl wasn't actually trying to seduce him. She had little to nothing to gain from that. Even if she was, she left right after.

She did that for flair. She made her single move on a top chart selling rock star as an exit. An impression, she did leave. All that it lacked was the intentional, over-emphasized hip sway, but Eloise didn't exactly need that.

Ulysses let out another chuckle as she left, and opted to just leave this be. He wasn't sure if she genuinely wanted to be gone, or if his assessment triggered her flight response, but in either case, he was not one to chase a woman. Instead, he muttered a single, final line, "I will eagerly await. A word of advice, though. People are full of surprises, and not every surprise is bad, dangerous, or deadly."

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Not All Ghosts are of the Dead​

​

Spoiler: Two Broken Peas in a Pod

It was long after the tournament had ended that Gauss had awoken, finding himself in a room illuminated mostly by the blue-tinged natural light of the sun blocked by a teal-colored curtain.He had seen one of these rooms not that long ago, although from a different perspective. Ironic, really. His head was pounding and he was absurdly thirsty, likely due to whatever effect that blood had on him. Although, at the moment, such thoughts were hardly at the forefront of his mind. Mostly because such thoughts would require some critical thinking to piece together a few context clues that he, quite plainly, was not up for at this time.

He knew how hospitals worked. He evaluated himself. Cleaned, mostly, IV in his right arm, oxygen sensor on his finger, what looked like needle marks on his left arm–likely from blood draws. He could see his vital signs on a monitor beyond a table that was to his side. Right this minute, he hadn’t even considered whether he had won or lost. Or evaluated if he should even care.

What he knew was that he was thirsty. Very, very thirsty. If this headache was anything like a hangover, then that thirst was likely attributing to it. Now scanning the room for a remote or call light, he did eventually find the telltale signs of one attached to his bedframe. Standard unit, beige in color, controlled the bed, and most importantly, would alert a nurse to come should he hit the red button.

So, he did. And, shortly after, a patient care technician entered the room, something Gauss determined by the PCT abbreviation by their name. Another thought occurred to him at this time as well. He greeted Gauss simply, then asked what he could assist with. Polite etiquette, he wasn’t sure if the PCT was aware of his name, but at this second, it didn’t matter.

”Yes… yes,” Gauss said, stumbling over his words once he felt how dry his mouth was, and more notably, how bad his breath smelled even to him. Damn. Potent stuff. ”I would greatly appreciate some ice water, before anything. Then whenever there is time, could you have a nurse update me on my condition?” he requested.

The PCT complied and soon returned with the requested water, which Gauss subsequently downed as if he was a man in a desert chasing his third Oasis. Not terribly long after, just fifteen minutes or so, a nurse did arrive. Cute, very short, and with honey-brown hair, carrying a metal-clad board with some paperwork on it. Flipping through the pages, she updated Gauss on his condition.

He had been through the antidote given, then some medication to make sure his liver and kidneys would take minimal, if any, damage from the excretion. He was warned he’d be pissing orange for a few days, if not a bit longer, but that was normal. The intense thirst he was feeling was likely due dehydration which was secondary to the medication provided to clear out his system; some of his bloodwork also suggested this. The updates went on, about how he had a catheter he had yet to notice, and how his IV was switched to a port for blood draws to avoid repeated sticking. The standard stuff. As of his last set of labs, he was expected to make a decent bounce-back within a week. He was also informed that while out cold, several people had visited.

But, before addressing that, he did pop in with his own question: ”The Witch… I vaguely remember hitting her very hard… I did not mean to. Is she okay?”

There were a few beats of silence before, finally, the nurse succumbed to the chuckle hid behind her hand. First, a shake of the head – then a grimace, a backpedal, a hasty “Oh- she’s going to be fine.” Her brows furrowed in thought; a tap towards her forehead with the pen from the chart signaled a revelation.

“She tried to come see you earlier today, by the looks of it, but they turned her away. Not a friend of yours, at least not one on your list, so it wasn’t viable. Do you want me to see if she’s still interested?”

Gauss listened to the nurse, but found himself having difficulty reading her. Or, at least, what she presented of the situation. He wasn’t sure if it was the headache, thirst, or just her mannerisms, but he wasn’t sure if she was reluctant or amused. Once she brought up the option of having her return, though, he pondered on it.

”Yeah… yeah. Her name was uh…” he tapered off, trying to remember her name. Normally, this wasn’t such an issue for him, but given he knew it for all of ten minutes before becoming lit as a New York Christmas tree, this time he had some difficulties. It did, however, hit him. ”Chanterelle Fuir, I think. You can add her to my visitor list, and tell her I’m awake,” he said, providing permissions for the visit.

”Thank you for the update. Uhm… two things, though. One, can I get more water? Two, when can I get this catheter removed?” he asked, tacking on two other, in his mind, important questions.

“You can have the water, but I’m sorry to say, you’ll be stuck with the catheter for a day or two.”

It was only about twenty minutes later when the toadstool witch’s own rest was interrupted. The sound of the door opening drew her gaze immediately; the guarded pose loosened when Chanterelle realized it was just a nurse. She shoved the book opened in her lap onto the bed in front of her, leaving it open, and directed her attention without a word.

She wouldn’t blame anyone for thinking that she was disturbing. This trip to the hospital, as was tradition, had been an awful disaster. The vitals machine did not like her at all; it beeped emergency warnings in such rapid succession that they’d given up on most ideas of triage and simply put her in a room for observation while her injuries were at their worst. What a waste of time.

“Thaddeus added you to his visitor’s list,” the staff member mentioned, grabbing a few cups off the side-board and glancing around the bare room. The linens had been replaced with a more resistant plastic to stop the moisture on Chanterelle’s skin from soaking into the bed. “Do you still know where his room is?”

“He’s awake, then?”

The witch’s voice was sharp. She seemed concerned by this; her left hand moved to brush over the mangled surface of her collar, though her arm itself was not broken, it was pulled up in a sling to prevent too much pressure on the wound. The nurse shrugged. “Go see.”

Chanterelle wasted no time. Her slippered feet padded slowly across her room; Thaddeus’ room was just up the hall into another wing (she’d already found it, through sheer determination, but had of course not been allowed inside regardless). It felt bad to do something like that by accident.

As she came to the door, the witch hesitated, but she rapped against its surface with three hard strikes and promptly turned the handle. It was cautious, the way she moved, first peering around the door into the room before finally taking a single step inside. “Hey,” she questioned quietly, moving slowly toward the bed in the center of the small room, “you awake?”

It had been some time since he approved her visit. Probably a period of paperwork, then informing her. By this time, he was on his third glass of water, and only partially alleviated of that absurd thirst, but it was suggested he slow down to avoid diluting the medication or some other medical nonsense that prompted him to wait at least a half hour before requesting more. His head turned, admittedly quite stiffly, to the door upon hearing the gentle taps of her fingers, then watched her as she entered. Polite enough to ask if he was awake, although it was likely clear he was given he was sitting. But then, he also knew very little of her, so it was possible she was just too bashful to just peer in.

His mind began to wander more now that it wasn’t entirely clouded by that headache and incessant thirst.

”Yeah, yeah. Headache, things are a bit fuzzy, but I’m up. I’ll probably be here a few more days,” he answered, then added in terms of his current prognosis.

”You?” he asked, turning the question on her in a fairly pleasant, although dry tone.

“They thought you broke my collarbone, because my collar is broken, but they can’t find the bone.” Her eyebrows raised, head tilting in a sort of shrug; of course she was not liable to do so with her shoulders. The witch had been staring at the floor as she came in, really- but she examined Gauss, eyeing the IV in his wrist suspiciously, making her way across the room to perch at the edge of the visitor’s chair with her feet flat on the ground.

“So.. I guess it’s not so bad after all.” It was hard to look at his face; the bruising and swelling and burn marks made her stomach queasy. It had been much easier to look into the liquified remains of her own shoulder. “Bites bad, though. You spar like a lion; I would not quite like to see you fight.”

Gauss had to take a moment to process what she said. The medical staff could not find her collar. A very specific word choice. Did she mean they could not find her collar bone? Or her whole shoulder assembly? Or whatever they called that anatomically; Gauss wasn’t a Death-damn doctor. But, he pulled himself out of that curiosity; it might be a little impolite to explore that when she was discussing entirely different topics. At least, for now.

”I can’t exactly say I got to do my best out there. I tried resonating… which was a mistake. Practically lost me the match itself,” he explained to her, but then sighed. ”I doubt we actually had a chance to beat you anyway. Either of you. That doll witch probably had more tricks up her sleeve, and I have no idea what you can do in practice,” he went on, giving his insight to the subject.

”You did well, though. I don’t imagine you have to fight like that normally. I can’t quite say you followed my advice, but you put in effort that I haven’t seen in most of my sparring partners, so… kudos to you, Mushroom Witch,” he told her. This time, with a softer, kinder voice. He meant what he said. Whether it sounded genuine or not, he couldn’t tell. But, there was no point in cutting her down. Besides, she could probably literally kill him right there in the room had she wanted.

Gauss would rather die silently in his bed than trying to fight with a plastic tube up his urethra, so death with dignity it was.

”Maybe watching a fight might be more entertaining when you’re not the one seeing the receiving end of a fist, yeah?” he suggested.

Chanterelle nodded empathetically at his discussion of the fight. She raised her hand as if in protest at his flattery - about tricks - about the use of magic in the ways so familiar to her. The praise set heat to her face; she’d expected upset and had come to it anyway out of some sort of misplaced guilt.

“I do appreciate the compliments. I happen to be a simple gardener witch... So yes, I would usually incapacitate my opponent from range and be on my way. It’s a lot… safer that way. Less liable to be booted.”

She laughed a little at his suggestion to watch another fight (did these people ever sick of fighting?), but leaned across the arm of the guest-chair to his side table, snatching the television remote from its place beside him. The old television at the side of the room flickered half-heartedly to life.

“Oh, I texted Rand for a copy of the tape of the last fight, because… well, we didn’t get to see it, did we? Is it okay if I jack my phone in?” Her eyes caught his expectantly - finger hovering over the GUIDE button - and she smiled, if nothing else, to diffuse the tension she felt in the room. It was strange, to go from fighting someone to congregating with them.

”You may, miss simple garden witch, play whatever you like in my company,” he responded to her, teasingly twisting her own words onto her. ”Though, before we proceed, I am curious; what inspired you to visit me–or check on me, for that matter? he asked. His voice was fairly light, although obviously still somewhat dry from his still-present thirst, but had that sincere hint of curiosity in it that was hard to miss, even for the oblivious.

At his first statement, Chanterelle slid from her chair, approaching the small television set and moving around its rear. “Simple indeed,” she murmured. The witch stared for a long, empty moment at the wires in the back, before finally pulling a wire out of the back of the cable box at complete random and holding it in her hand as the television’s signal died. “I did poison you,” she admitted, replacing the cable in the side of her phone, “I felt bad about it. Honest.”

The video was long, though, and it started from the first fight. Chanterelle moved to take her seat once more, leaving her phone behind; her knees pulled up into the chair. She was almost - if not more - beaten up than he looked. Her skin had lost the ghostly pallour, but it was tight against her body, as if she was severely dehydrated. Her movement - except for the shoulder, of course - seemed to be fine, though. Fingers tapped against her armrest.

“They still will not let me go home. Maybe I just needed something to do.”

Gauss took a moment to try and put himself in the shoes of Chanterelle. Something he was told over and over to do in therapy. Chanterelle was a witch that could have fairly easily beaten him had she not offered to fight him barehanded. She seemed somewhat shy, but not annoyingly so in some refusal to communicate. To feel bad because of poisoning him, remorse over something that only occurred because of how hard of a hit he gave her. Piecing things together, Gauss could only come to the conclusion that Chanterelle either had some type of insecurity about her poisonous blood, or that she was an unnaturally selfless individual.

Given she was in Fate, he expected the former, but her behavior couldn’t be ignored. Not to mention, it looked like she was in about as bad of shape as he was. Obviously bad enough they hadn’t released her yet.

”Well, I’m quite glad to help alleviate the boredom,” Gauss told her, still in a fairly pleasant tone. ”Though, I don’t think the Witch that blew me up came to visit me, either. The nurse told me you asked about me earlier. It’s not a big sample size, but if only one of two showed any concern, you’d think they’d be the kinder,” he commented, trying to offer an admittedly lengthy compliment without his typical flirtatious attitude.

“Maria’s not in the hospital,” she replied, a bit defensively. A slow, shaking, moderated breath. “Look - I’m here to be a better person. It takes active effort to get better, that’s all.”

She couldn’t look at him anymore. There was a complex web of anger and guilt pulsing in her chest; it felt like there was a ball of hair stuck in her throat. Her good hand white-knuckled the arm of the chair beside her. “I imagine that’s why you’re in FATE, too.”

He noticed she looked away. Her clenched body. He wasn’t sure what about his statement caused that. Was she in discomfort? Or, embarrassed? Angry? He couldn’t tell. Gauss was good at picking up on this, but normally only in select situations. This was not one of them.

That begged the question… how to proceed. She brought up valid points. Technically, the reason that anyone was in FATE, he would imagine. But still, there had to be more to it.

”You didn’t ask, I guess, but I can tell you about myself,” he said, opting to go down a path of exploration. “I did,” she protested, but didn’t stop him talking.

”Ask me a year ago if I wanted to be better and I would have said this was all horse shit. I was on my way to becoming a Two Star, had a dozen or more weapon partners–I thought I was doing fine. On a mission, I left people behind to focus on the glory of success. Disposable is how I saw them. I don’t have to explain why that’s wrong, but it lead to an investigation where they determined I was a toxic Meister, and I fought them tooth and nail. Back then, I thought I trained my way to where I was; it wasn’t my fault people fell behind. Back then, I thought I was invited along because of how many weapons I could use; it wasn’t my fault people weren’t as diverse,” he told her, shedding some insight as to his mindset previously.

”So yeah, when I first started therapy, I thought it was absurd that I was getting punished for success. I entered the program because it was my only way to stay in the DWMA, not because I wanted to get better,” he explained to her.

”But… over some time, I saw what I did to people. I tracked down old friends, old partners, girls I used to date, and the story was always the same. I got what I needed, then I left. And, to be honest, I guess that’s what my dad does, too. Trust me on this, I know what he’s done to hurt people,” Gauss elaborated, slowing down a bit but still opting to explain to her about his dad. It wasn’t all of the details, but given Thea had just tore into him earlier that day, it was fresh on his mind.

”I don’t want to hurt people anymore, miss Garden Witch. I still have the same urges and instincts; it’s just the way I was grown and raised. But I don’t want people around me to feel used, but I think really it’s just like… I don’t know. I don’t want someone who’s my friend or ally to get spiteful or hateful comments thrown at them because of me,” he said, trying to explain specifically what he meant. The very nitty-gritty of what actually made him feel bad.

”It’s like… I don’t care if they insult me, or are dicks, y’know, but don’t do that to my friends,” he worded it, ”If that makes any sense.”

“...I think it does.” The witch said finally. It wasn’t the answer she had expected. She’d known, of course, that FATE dealt with all kinds of issues: from mental, to power-based, to literal madness. But using people wasn’t a reason she would have even considered as a rationale for entry to FATE. Maybe it was because of the dynamic between people here - some people took control, and others were tools, or at least it seemed to her - or maybe it was because Chanterelle herself did her best to strive for complete self-sufficiency and always had.

“We all leave ghosts behind us, you know, even if we don’t want to.”

What was there to say? Chanterelle wasn’t sure. The grip on the chair had loosened - the accusation levied toward her, in her mind, dissipating under all of this new information - but the understanding gleaned didn’t have context, except for his obvious ego, and though it had angered her in the arena she almost… pitied… him.

“I wish that… I had something worthwhile to say to you, Thaddeus.” Her voice was careful but kind; soft against the background track applied to the arena battle filled with the clapping and cheering of audience members long-dead. “But I must admit, as a - what, a- feral.. Witch, a hermitage witch, I can’t remember losing friends until recently. It’s out of my breadth.”

He was still outside of his comfort zone, really. Not that he was actually uncomfortable, more than this was uncharted territory for a man like him. He hadn’t even discussed this much with his weapons, to be honest. They knew why he was here, what he did to do better, but some these underlying answers were shared only with this witch–his former adversary just some time ago.

”I don’t know the feeling of losing a friend to something like death or misfortune,” he answered her, clarifying a distinction between them. ”But I can tell you this. I don’t think it’s people that I’ve mourned for, but what I’ve killed between me and those people,” he explained, yet another clarification.

”Their hearts still beat, but I think my remorse is for what used to be there–even if it was fake, I guess,” he added, with little more to say. He hadn’t considered it that way. If he left behind ghosts, they were not of people; Gauss left behind ghosts of relationships.

Chanterelle nodded. Her gaze met his eyes again; there was a sad sort of smile pulling at the edge of her lips. A bit of a shake of the head, a bit of a movement in her hand, a bit of shuffling in the chair. “That’s worse,” she finally produced, “because you know they would still be with you otherwise.”

Thoughts raced through her mind. Of course, she couldn’t trust this man; not only was he a meister and an unfamiliar person besides but he also admitted clearly to his dysfunction. It was a clawing sort of feeling - what you want to say vs what you should say - and there were more constraints than that on her speech. There were things that she shouldn’t say at all.

So, of course, Chanterelle took a deep breath and showed the same vulnerability he had shown to her. It was the right thing to do, not the safe thing. Those were usually not the same.

“I didn’t want to fight you,” she finally dropped, voice more confident, more sure, “because I have killed meisters before.” The witch watched his face closely. Her legs bent to propel her feet against the floor; she was clearly ready to spring up from the chair and maybe even out of the room but was not running or even timid yet. “Have you ever seen another outlaw witch?”

It was almost like she was holding her breath, watching him like that, eyes poring through his skull and straight through to the wall behind him.

He paused at that question. Perhaps, even turned a little paler if possible. Had he seen an outlaw witch? Well, yes. Several. The problem was, he had also helped kill Outlaw Witches. So… that could be awkward.

”Yes… I have. None quite like you, thought,” he answered her question–carefully. Chanterelle laughed, a bitter noise, a harsh bark in the room. He couldn’t be afraid of her, could he? There was no point in it.

“...no, I imagine not.” Her voice hushed again. She reached out for the foot of his bed from the visitor’s chair, patting it gently, the white-cotton glove almost lost in the sheet. “I was sick of all the ghosts. I came… here.”

A moment of silence. “I was apprehended, obviously, and disowned from the remainder of my house until… well… until.” She checked the door. Seemed comforted by the fact that it was still closed. “You know, though, I still think it was impressive that I managed to step foot in the school. I thought I was dead.” She pulled back. Her eyes traveled to the fight on the screen. The feed was still in intermission; it hadn’t been edited to any significant degree. A sigh.

“I sit in front of you now because of the compassion that they showed me. Any meister could have struck me down on principle. Any witch could have petitioned for my execution. They were better than that, and I want to be too, but I think it was pretty fucked up that they risked your life in the arena with me. I was afraid I was going to kill you. I don’t have that compassion.”


”For whatever it may be worth, I’m glad you made it in,” he told her, responding foremost to her emphasized statement about her surprise upon entering the DWMA. ”Even despite the poison, I promise,” he added, half-joking with her, trying to lighten the mood. The witch cracked a smile.

”According to the charts, they had several vials of antidote to various types of your toxins on standby… I imagine if they went that far, they would have had the refs intervene if anything you did was too risky,” he explained to her, based on the knowledge he was given earlier.

”I should be fine; if I wasn’t blown up beforehand, I might have lasted longer,” he added quickly, but opted to change the topic of the conversation with a quick turn around.

”But I know what it’s like to have your family against you. I don’t know how witch society works, or yours specifically, but knowing you can’t trust the people you should… it sucks,” he told her, trying to draw parallels between her witch companions and his siblings. ”It’s fucked up when you have to worry every hug comes with a knife,” he said, putting a spin on his previous comment.

Chanterelle nodded along. It was her default response; just an active sort of listening that seemed to make others confident she cared about what they were saying. “I’m glad they considered the risk,” she conceded. She hadn’t expected this compassion, either, but the people she met here had a tendency to surprise her. “Yes, I- I’m working with them, of course, to… adjust into society. I did not know any of my - legitimate - house members until I left. My family at home, well, I am a traitor to them. I would imagine they quite desperately want me dead.”

That came with a stipulation, though, one that she felt compelled to share because she did not know who else would empathize. Her tutor had shied away from this kind of conversation; she had reiterated to Chanterelle that it was never acceptable to dwell on that sort of past, and that if she wanted to stop being a criminal, she would have to act like it. But all of these feelings had been seeding and growing wantonly in her chest.

“It was harder to get away from my family than it was to break into the DWMA.”

It was said almost like a joke, but it clearly wasn’t one, and Chanterelle’s hand moved to her mouth as if she’d already said too much. A quick clarification- “You have to keep this quiet. You have to,” she pressed, hard, speaking through her palm, “or I’m so, so, so screwed.”

”You’re working just as hard as I am to find your place here,” Gauss responded to her. This was something he could pick up on. The importance of keeping the secrets this Witch was sharing close. Not that he could do anything with them anyway; they held no value to him and her family didn’t have any relevance to his own life, but even then he wasn’t one to betray her confidence in him for some advantage he could gain. At least, not anymore.

”I wouldn’t make that any harder than it already is,” he said. His eyebrows then lifted, and he made a different, interesting remark. ”If you wanted leverage against me, you could get me in a world of trouble by reporting I made some type of pass at you alone in this room. Really, anyone could. The whole DWMA seems to think I’m some absurd womanizer,” he told her.

”But, I trust you won’t just like you trust I won’t share a word,” he added.

“No,” Chanterelle replied, “I couldn’t.”

Their fight was playing now. The witch grimaced at her lurching movements; she did in fact look wild in the clip and she had not known that when she was fighting. It would have been better if she took that advice. Her pride was too great at the time, her pride would be too great to admit that any meister had managed to hurt her, and so she could not quite even admit to being in pain.

“I do not think I could destroy anyone’s progress like that. This sort of forgiveness, allocated to us, is compassion with… well, with conditions. I could never.”

The comment had clearly struck her, though, about the idea of… what, making a pass? It was something she’d worried about coming there; the thought had not even been about Gauss particularly but simply the predatory nature of men she had been warned so harshly about. The men she had known in her life had been kept under strict guardianship, or at least guidance; they might have been trusted with children but never alone. She felt guilty about the thought itself. She felt more sick about the idea of falsely accusing him as such.

“You might be able to say the same. It wouldn’t be so out of character for a feral witch to attack you in your hospital bed, now would it, but neither of us have the intention to hurt each other.”

A few seconds of thought. “What do you want to do, when you’re done with the DWMA?”

Chanterelle had a valid point, although given his reputation, Gauss imagined that if a feral Witch was in his hospital bed, most would not immediately assume it was an attack. The idea gave him an internal chuckle, though he didn’t intend on explaining that one. Chanterelle seemed quite against the idea he suggested regardless, so he had no intention of pushing it.

”Done with the DWMA? I have no idea,” he said, repeating her question, but genuinely not having an answer.

”I guess it’s a little different for me, or Meisters in general. I wanted to join the DWMA and become an Agent. It’s like… a career path. I guess if there was any alternative, it would be to work for Thaltek, but I’ve just never considered that an option,” he explained to her. This did get him thinking, though.

”It seems like you joined the DWMA to get out of a bad situation, yeah? So, it makes sense that the perspective I have is different. Being a Meister, climbing the ranks, fighting evil and Madness–that’s what I want to do. But if I asked you what you would have done if you could have left your family to do anything you wanted–without risk or worry–what would you have done?” he asked, twisting her own question onto her.

The note about it being a career path seemed to strike Chanterelle like it had not occurred to her before. This institution was the same as any other university; it relied on the continued loyalty of their graduates to the school in order to fulfill their obligations. Her face softened; these soldiers were only doing what they were gifted to do, of course, but she had not considered the exclusionary nature of their training. Once you were a DWMA graduate, what else could you really do? It was your life on the line or nothing. They sure made that choice young.

“Makes sense. Yeah, I had no intention of going though any program, I’ll be honest - I knew that I would not be followed here.” She considered that question for a long moment. It was a good one - she didn’t know enough about the world to really know about her career ambitions - but the idea of a career had never even crossed her mind. She subsisted on her own merit; there was nothing she needed from this society but toleration.

“I’m not sure that I would have done anything particular at all, you know, except for tending my garden and welcoming visitors. I dreamt of being an apothecary witch in my youth. I… have no need for an occupation. I suppose I might have one here, eventually, if they would have me. Or I might end up with a position in my house, if I earn their respect.”

She realized she hadn’t answered the question. A bit of a grimace. “I would have never left, if not that my.. family… is dwindling in numbers by the day. I thought I wanted to live my life in the forest like that; I thought the people here were monsters and I had no want to know them. Dreaming about this future is something that will come, sometime, I think. They just want me to ‘get over’ my issue with weapons right now.”

Gauss listened quite intently to Chanterelle. Every word she slipped out, he hung on. Not out of any of his usual interests, but instead pure curiosity. It was occurring to him just how sheltered she was. And, in a way, just how narrow witch society seemed to be. The little garden witch, mushrooms this, toxic blood that, only ever thought about gardening or being an apothecary. Just as she thought the Meister life was exclusionary, he saw the same in the Witch life. Born with magic in one little niche and suddenly, that dictates your life? That was almost sad.

”I won’t call you miss Garden Witch,” he said, smiling at her and turning his whole body over to her slightly, posturing to show she had his attention far more than the replay on the screen. Watching the fight didn’t give him any insight to his style and seeing himself brutalize Chant brought him no pleasure. If anything, it was just regret given how pleasant she was now.

”Because I don’t want to just label you after your magic,” he went on. ”There is a whole, huge world out there that it seems you just… don’t know about. You don’t need to be stuck in a garden tending to plants–unless you want to,” he explained. ”Out of those forests are seas and shores with blue that stretches further than you can see. Maybe you’ll love the ocean. There are mountains that climb into the skies. There are islands with volcanoes. But, it’s not even just places. There’s art and music. You could paint, or draw, or write. You could pick up any instrument in the world and find out you love it. And, it may sound crazy, but there are plenty of hobbies out there like biking, skiing, skating, dancing. Or hell, as contrary as it sounds, we live in a digital age. Video games, even, could be something you might love. Runescape 6 has over three hundred skills that take god knows how many hours to grind, but some people love to just sit there and go at it while they listen to an audio book or their favorite TV show because the feeling you get when you max out is incredible,” Gauss explained, perhaps going a bit overboard at first.

”It may be overwhelming at first. But the world has so much to offer, you don’t have to settle for just one little part. So when you show this place that you’re safe for the world, you can experience anything you want,” he told her, still smiling, and somehow almost excited for her.

”Who knows, maybe I’ll join you between missions. You’ll outlive me ten to one, so you can go explore the world and show me the best parts of it,” he suggested, implying for the first time that they could keep talking–beyond just this bedside visit.

There was a creasing in the witch’s brows with his prelude – she was a garden witch indeed, of course it was a part of her identity, and not one she usually found limiting. Nature was everywhere: it was true she’d spent most of her life in the heavy forest, but the world was available to her, if the witch ever desired it. She… didn’t. Not in the present, anyway. The city itself was overwhelming enough.

But she swallowed hard at the description of art, of music, of activities she’d rarely considered trying (although she had of course been exposed to basic reading and writing in the witch script) and never had the time or equipment to. The witch blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. It was extremely sweet for him to be so concerned; culture was something that she had.. not immersed herself in, but maybe for lack of knowledge, rather than lack of understanding. The light in her eyes faded a bit when he mentioned video games, but her head jerked, the witch seemingly caught off guard by his offer.

“I suppose you’re right. There’s a lot of places I could see, and a lot of things I could try, and…” hesitation. “…I think I’d like to explore it and everything inside it with my friends. Thank you.”

Her closed posture – knees tight together, shoulders pulled toward her core – had begun to relax. She scootched her chair forward with a screech against the tile floor, snatching a small notepad off the table along with a pen, and taking a long moment to slowly scrawl her phone number – and quickly write her name - with the pad on the bed.

Ripping note from notepad, she deposited it in his lap with an apologetic smile. “My phone displays in script, but it’s almost the same by letter. Don’t mind that the v’s are u’s and such if - or when - you text me. I’m still learning. Like, imagine you went somewhere tomorrow, and they wanted you to use the same language except you have to type in… ah… wingdings. It still feels strange.” She felt the need to justify it, but then, they had had an honest conversation so far. Why did she feel the need to assert herself like that?

That reminded him. He had no idea where his phone was. It was something he typically guarded quite close, but the series of events that transpired did all but make him forget about it. He reached for the magitech communicator still on his wrist and with a few quick clicks of some buttons on the right side, caused his phone to start beeping, revealing it was inside of the table between them. Had he spent even a second looking for it, he likely would have found it.

It took him just a moment to reach for it, and only another to input Chanterelle’s number, neglecting the dozens of other notifications he had for the time being. With the press of a button, the device let out a beep and created a horizontal line across its screen. Only then, he said, ”Text to talk could be super useful, if no one’s ever shown you.” As he spoke, the line on the phone created a pattern of quick lines up and down, before eventually transcribing his words to text, which he subsequently sent to the number Chant gave him.

He kept his warm smile for her. Kind. Genuine. Glad she came by without another purpose for it.

”You know that feeling you had? When you realized the whole world was there for you to explore?” he asked, rather quizzically referring to something Chanterelle didn’t technically vocalize.

The television went off with the unholy sound of an amplified notification, and the message Gauss sent showed up on its screen screen, pausing the program. It flickered first in the script it was sent, of course - text to talk could be super useful, if no one’s ever shown you - before warping into a variation of witch script that broke the notification and covered most of the screen. When the phone was done with its aneurysm, the video resumed. Chanterelle seemed unphased, except to glance toward the television to see what he was talking about. “I think that would work,” she considered, “seeing as it’s the same language - just a different script.”

There was a long moment where she considered his actual question, though, lips pursing as her eyebrows knit together, a crisis of thought if nothing else. “I remember the moment I decided to enter the world at large,” she replied tentatively, “though I do not know much about exploring.”

Gauss was not quite as content with the sudden noise the television made, wincing slightly at its screech. HIs head was in no shape to receive that to begin with, and it was unexpected. His fault? Absolutely. Did he like it? Absolutely not. But, he survived it, and continued on without complaint. Seeing that it might have made life a little easier for Chanterelle, at least when she had the privacy to talk instead of text made it worth it, at the least. Her answer did not quite lead into the point he wanted to make, though, putting him in a place to either try and force it, or push a little harder. He gave a pause for a moment to determine what he felt, at least, was the best way to approach this.

”What I mean, I think… is that ability to enter the world and explore it, y’know, seeing that there is more and you can aspire to it. That’s what I want to protect. That’s why some of us become Meisters. Had my life went how my dad wanted, I’d be some tyrant behind a desk,” he explained to her, skipping ahead and dancing around the fact his lead up didn’t get the pay-off he wanted.

”It’s not just you, either. Everyone. Humans, Witches, whatever. I know that life isn’t for everyone, but it’s the one I want,” he told her. And, then again smiling, given the audio static broke his smile from a moment ago, ”So you getting to find your place in the world means that people like me are doing their job, yeah?” he said, rhetorical in question, but bringing out the core of his point.

“I think so. I see what you mean; personal liberation and societal safety seem to be core values among you lot.” Chanterelle’s nose wrinkled at her words. “I apologize, that sounded rude, but I meant it in an almost - or at least somewhat - appreciative way.” She felt like she was eating her words. The witch had heard this conversation before. Almost verbatim, in fact, and not in the sort of way that was comfortable to recall. A long walk in the forest; the first time she had really heard of the outside world. The encouragement to break apart, to run away, if that was what she wanted. The promise of a possibility of another life.

“I fear it will kill you,” she sighed, continuing, “like it seems to kill you all.”

Gauss stewed for a moment on what she said. She seemed to think her word choice was offensive in some way, but it wasn’t. What he found more important was her fear. Her fear of killing them all. This brought him back to the moment he left partners behind. Knowing what he did now about Chanterelle, he understood her fear, but he also knew that death could be caused in all sorts of ways. Action, inaction, intentional, unintentional. It hit him that she didn’t even want her blood to land on him.

She took that challenge and likely would have lost it had her abilities not come into play. Something she couldn’t help. And yeah, yeah they were definitely a hell of a trip. The others may have made fun of his suit, but had this actually been an important fight, it might have made more of a difference than he cared to admit.

Thing was, Chanterelle wasn’t his enemy. She wasn’t some outlaw witch he was hunting. And, if she was, if she went renegade now, it struck him that he wasn’t sure if he could cut her down like others had been in the past. He wasn’t sure if he could or would even help. Did that make him a traitor, too? Not thoughts for now, but definitely something to consider.

Instead, he broke the silence he let stew for a moment, and stretched out his hand. That entire arm was sore. It was the one that he hurt earlier, catching her knee. But all the same, he offered it to her, his hand wide open. ”I survived, Chant. Argue with me that it was ‘this time’ or that it was just because I was taken to the hospital, but I don’t care. I’ll offer you my hand all the same, even if yours has to be wrapped up,” he told her, still smiling. Still sincere.

”But it’s up to you to overcome that fear,” he said. Then he waited. Not sure how she’d respond, but doing his best to be honest and up front with her concerns.

“I know.”

Chanterelle’s gloved hand reached for his, squeezing it gently, and thought about his words. She certainly feared hurting someone with her poison; with that said, it was almost the thing that concerned her the least, because at least any severe injury caused by prolonged contact could be construed as an accident. She could believe it was an accident; she could forgive herself for something like that. It was the pair in the deep woods she thought about the most. The thorns growing and branching, tearing through their feet, their hands, their limbs – the screaming and begging – the agonizingly slow death spored from soil stuffed into deep cuts. The guarantee she would not risk talking to an outsider again.

If they found her, if they came here, if they ever found them – the meisters and weapons she had traitorously befriended – it would be just as horrific, the witch was sure. The more she grew to empathize with this kind of person, the tighter the grip of horror that grew around her heart became. The revelation of humanity was painful. It had been easy to be here for herself before she was concerned about their well-being.

“I am more worried about being recovered,” she admitted quietly, barely audibly, although it was less a whisper than an impulse. “and of being made to maim and kill any person or thing I’ve come to care for. This idea of liberation is a risky game. Trust is a risk, too. Why do you seem so unconcerned about your own life?”

The last statement was rising in both tone and volume, almost angry, but her expression did not change. Lips slightly parted, eyebrows pulled, incredulous, upset, or angry – it was hard to tell. She was speaking to someone else. Her thumb gently stroked the back of his hand, though, a glimmering of kindness; the witch had little occasion to touch anyone and it was something that always fascinated her, even through several layers of gloves, cotton thick between their hands. Even in a moment with the thoughts in such disarray.

This witch provided Gauss with deeper thoughts than he had ever considered given the circumstance. Granted, he also provided her plenty of things that held some weight, but he notably wasn’t accustomed to being made to think quite this hard. It wasn’t about intelligence or critical thinking, but reflection on himself and his life. It was a different type of thought process that wasn’t common for him. And just as he thought he had enough to think about, the witch offered such simple, yet sweet gestures as that of her thumb across his hand.
If Gauss were the type to blush, he would have.

”I don’t think about it, I guess… death, that is,” he answered her. It was honest.

”Maybe I’m just privileged–actually, I know I am. It’s not that I don’t think it can happen. I just… I don’t know. I don’t let it consume me,” he explained to her. Again, honest. Gauss considered himself someone of quite significant intelligence, but in this moment, he felt as if this was the most stupid thing he could possibly say.

If he was going to go down that route, he felt, he might as well double down. ”If worrying about death is going to stop me from holding your hand, or fighting a fight, or being what I want, then I guess I’m fine with it when it happens,” he told her, throwing out that option as nonchalant as Cyrus made death threats.

The witch seemed completely taken aback by that perspective. Her mouth closed into an enforced line; the effort to keep it that way was the only thing that stopped her from crying. ’Why aren’t you afraid of me?’ she had asked, once, and the reply has been all but the same: I don’t worry about death. I worry about the things that are important to me; one of those things is protecting the people that deserve it. But she had not deserved it at all, and they should have worried about death, and she had visited the grave of the unrecovered and read the inscriptions to prove it. The lack of self-preservation in the entire school upset her greatly.

“I… see,” she said finally, though it was clear she did not, “You sure know how to embrace your own mortality.”

He chuckled at her response. Embracing his mortality, eh? In a way, that’s what all Meisters did. Witches could live for hundreds of years. To his knowledge, ‘common’ Witches of the low class normally had something like four of five hundred years in them, but Maba was well over a thousand and still kicking strong. It wouldn’t be wise to quote him on that; he probably picked it up from some antiquated textbook back in EAT. But it lead to his current thought: from the perspective of a Witch, a Meister lived and fought like… a tenth of the time they did? Their lives must fly by in the blink of an eye.

”You word it like I’m embracing my mortality, but I’m just thinking it’s best to live my life. You know, you really only get the one,” he told her. It was a simplistic viewpoint, but it was the only one he had. His father was all worried about the Thales legacy and their name. Gauss was one to abuse that, sure, but he wasn’t so focused on giving back to it. To cultivating the next generation so they could abuse the name as he did. Maybe that was selfish on his own part, or maybe it was more normal and his father was the abnormal one.

”Maybe when you focus on quality over quantity, you see things different. Because from where I stand, it means less to live twice as long as it does for someone like you to miss me when I’m gone,” he explained to her, not really trying to delve into the abyssal depths of philosophy, but just… put to words what he meant.

It was a lot to think about. Chanterelle tried not to think too much about the nature of her lifespan; it was hardly guaranteed in this sort of life. "Well," she said neutrally, "I try not to think about it, but you may be right about the different types of life.”

”Don’t tell the others I got all soft, I have an image to maintain,” Gauss commented jokingly, seeing that Chant also seemed to have been lost in thought, or perhaps just given too much to think about at once. ”But, sometimes, you don’t need to think. Just enjoy the little things in life. Like, when a Witch–whose hair looks emphatically better down and out of her cap–decides to hold your hand in a hospital room,” he added, then nodded his head to the TV.

”How about you put something interesting on and we wait for those nurses to give us an update? he suggested.

“I can do that." Chanterelle gave his hand one last squeeze before letting it go and pushing herself to her feet, making her way back to her phone next to the television set and pausing the fight with a tap, before opening up another client to play videos from online. The whole phone was, in fact, in script.

Though the witch had raised an eyebrow and cracked a smile on at his comment about softness, and had not shirked from his comment about holding hands, she kept those thoughts to herself until she was scrolling through a video list.

"Oh, don't worry. Obviously you're much too strong to show kindness," she teased, finally choosing a video about a game about alchemy. "Even to a witch with nice hair."

Dipping from behind the television, her tongue poked out of her mouth at him; she crossed back to her chair and dragged it beside the hospital bed. She'd turned the volume of the video up: it was much quieter than arena combat by default.

"But, hey, the deal is that I will not tell anyone that you are gentle if you do not tell anyone I am brash." The witch appraised him thoughtfully. "I try my best to enjoy all things in life. It makes me a bit forward sometimes. Like, you know, today."

”Well, I wouldn’t mind a few more days like today… y’know, without the tournament part,” he replied, then withdrew his admittedly quite sore arm to settle in to watch this video over alchemy. Or, what Runescape considered alchemy. He had a feeling Chanterelle would not agree. If the video’s inaccuracy bothered her, the witch did not mention it.

“Anytime. I live on campus - you’ll know my place when you see it.”

“I’m in Suite 2 at the top of the Lush Coffin. Noah and Prudence are just below in Room 5… y’know, if you ever want to swing by,” he added. He nodded to her phone, ”Comes right up in Maps.”

Meredith

 

[Merciless Medic]

Noah Wiley​

March 11, 2067
Location: Hospital
Interactions: Gauss ( Sir Les Paul )
Mentions: N/A

Noah was admitted to the hospital, and after a short checkup, he was free. He was given some painkillers, and that was it. Nothing too drastic, given he was a weapon. He also started feeling a bit better. However, he found himself worrying about Thaddeus now that he was here. Upon going to the nurse and asking for his meister, she told him he wasn’t going to be taking visitors. Upon showing his ID and saying he was his weapon, the woman decided that was fine and admitted him.

Once he got there, seeing Gauss all tubed up with an IV, bandaged, and the like… He saw someone leave with some blood, so he likely got stuck with a needle just now. He walked in, finding a seat to sit next to Gauss. He was still knocked out cold, probably from the drugs and the blood.

All at once, the guilt hit. He sighed and held his head in his hands. The last time he was in a hospital, it was to see if Sara was okay because of their actions that ultimately led to F.A.T.E. and now… Now it was Thaddeus. His mind went back to that machine the last time they went there. That machine that had weak, yet concentrated rays of healing wavelength healing his arm. Noah wanted to do that but better. It sickened him. Maybe if he tried now-

No.

He stopped himself before he reached out to hold Gauss’ arm. If he tried, it would put Gauss in a far worse state. He wanted to help so badly, but he couldn’t. It ate him up. His eyes fought back tears as they got glossy. He looked up at his meister, standing up and hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder. Not to impart any wavelength, but to see if he was awake. Which he was not.

“Hopefully, ya wake up soon, Thaddeus. I’m…” No, he couldn’t say it. Not now. He shook his head and sighed. He slid his hand off his shoulder and sat back on the chair.

A few hours went by, only for his phone to buzz. Looking at it, it was Sara. Saying something about how she had a new partner. Rolling his eyes, he sent her a text back saying he’ll be there and looked back at Gauss. “I’ll see ya later…” He said, tone melancholic, before he trudged out of the room and closed the door behind him to go back to the apartments.

 

[Merciless Medic]

Raphael Valerias​

March 11, 2067
Location: Hospital
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: Nadia, Dani, Maria, Ark, Chanterelle

Raphael was pulled onto a gurney by the medical team, belted to the stretcher, and hurried off towards the hospital. By the time Raphael was nearly aware of what was going on, lucid enough to possibly retain memory after falling back asleep later, a nurse had come in.

“Raphael? Are you awake?”

Raphael simply opened his one good eye to look at her, grumbling something he himself didn’t quite catch.

“Riight… Well,” she looked at her clipboard. “We are concerned about your upper neck near your head. Your chin surprisingly isn’t fractured, but you suffered a laceration on your shoulder, as well as some bruises, scrapes, and burns. All of it has been treated and dressed with padding, which we’ll redress tomorrow or later tonight. Frankly, you’re not too bad. For now, we’ll make sure your collar keeps you sedated and keep your Madness from acting out. Careful not to move your neck too much. It might be sore.”

Raphael nodded, however he felt the problem that she was talking about. A dull ache spiked to an uncomfortable degree as he moved his head to nod, making him wince.

“Is there anything you’d like?”

“My things…” Raphael was surprised his voice sounded so hoarse. He was sure it wasn’t him at first.

“Your satchel with your grimoire and chain is on a chair next to you on your left. Your water is on your right. If you need anything, press that button.” She motioned towards the red ‘call nurse’ button on the side of his bed before writing down some things on her clipboard. “You should get some rest.”

“Can I have… Visitors?”

“Hm? Who?” The nurse watched him expectantly, only for Raphael to shrug.

“Uhm… Maria, I guess. Chanterelle, if she’s available. Ark. Rand, if he wants to. And uh… Iris, I guess.” That was, if they wanted to come by. He wasn’t so sure if inviting Maria was a good idea, but he wasn’t really thinking straight. He was just thinking about the mage team in general. Death, he sounded like shit. His eyes slowly drooped and the nurse thought it was high time to leave him to it.

“I’ll be just outside and we’ll make sure they know they’re welcome to see you.” As she left, Raphael’s eyes drooped and he fell right back to sleep, blissfully unaware of everything around him for a few hours.

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Emmett James

Interacted & Mentioned: EmperorsChosen RedArmyShogun​

It was one of those barren soulscapes, much less common in healthy minds than they were in those of madness infected or traumatized individuals. Cavernous, dark, only mildly illuminated by crystals and ores. It was a product of the mind and imagination as much as a natural consequence of one's soul, and Emmett couldn't help but wonder what lead to this precise structure. "Well, it is a tad bit dark in here - hope you don't mind if I help myself to some light." His presence in the soul space grew momentarily, as he cemented his connection and willed a piece of his own soul into appearing. In his hand he now held a hooded lantern, casting a soft light throughout the corridors of rock.

If this was a real place he'd have been far more lost, but the intricacies of the soul wasn't far removed from his vision. Dani's inner self practically radiated a signal that he could in turn catch and follow, like a soul-seeking compass. Though his step wasn't hurried it was as if the ground below his feet carried him forward, and only a few moments after Dani had allowed him in did he appear before her, stepping out from one of the many serpentine caverns of her soul. He raised the lantern above his head to illuminate both of them, and his worried expression was quickly replaced with a warm smile when he saw her. "Thank you for the invitation. I like the interior design!" As much as it was an attempt at humor, there was a certain charm about the formation of rock. The natural fractals of nature, the repeating patterns of earthly make - it was beautiful, in a certain sense that he didn't doubt he'd be absolutely laughed at for even thinking.

In the light of his lantern the broken metal post at the center of the room gleamed, and caught his attention. "Hmm, I have a profound feeling that's not supposed to look like that." The feeling that reverberated through Dani was pain, perhaps diminished by sedatives but all the same it was pain. They'd been on the brink of rejection after a hefty false resonation after all, and though he found it unlikely the discomfort in her soul would last very long, the matter of her madness was different. It was highly individual whether or not this sort of thing would have lasting consequences - that's why he wanted to come see for himself. "What do you make of it?" He asked. It was her soul, she'd know it best.

On the outside, he still was very much present and aware of the room he was in. Nadia was taking good care of herself, showing of the resourcefulness that once got her all the way to a two-star ranking. If only he wasn't so worried that her need for violence and conquest put her a risk of becoming something worse, he'd gladly have taken her in for planning an advanced training strategy for three-star recommendation. She had so much promise, yet he would not have it upon his conscience to tutor someone so given to fighting. That belief that might makes right, no matter how vaguely she took it, was inherently dangerous. "Your presence is all I ask for, Nadia." He replied to her. Even if it was brief, Nadia and Dani had begun their journey as weapon and Meister, and that should count for something when putting Dani at ease. He wasn't about to share that line of reasoning though, and risk having the effect ruined out of spite.

Still, he couldn't leave well enough alone when he saw an opportunity. "I noticed your penchant for knives, too. I used to have the same sort of hobby, actually. If you'd be interested, I could dust of the old Magitech set at home if you're looking for an upgrade?"
​

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Finally Caught the Bitch​

When they reached the construction site, Zari spared no time in slicing a wide hole through the chain link fence; but as he stepped through he was met with the very same treatment as before. The corrosive water was more than getting on his nerves, and though he had patience this war of attrition was going nowhere. “Fuck that.” He spoke aloud, both to Jarvis and Adrian, signifying that he thought the endeavor was worthless as he took a step back through the fence and onto the street. Zosar’s sound had faded in and out of hearing ever since they split up, but he was tired of waiting for his plan to reach fruition. At this rate the Shuumie was going to win, and Zari wasn’t planning on stomaching that.

”New plan of approach. Anyone?” He asked, before Zosar’s sound once again caught his attention from within the construction area. He must’ve sneaked inside while they were distracting the beast. That much proved that it didn’t have a way to sense souls like they did, but it did present a potentially different issue for Zosar, if he was doing what Zari suspected. He fished the communicator out of his pocket to find his number.

“The newborn Shuumie soul bond with non-undead. Connected with you forever. Pets.” He typed out, with the same rough parsing that he used when he spoke.

"She's a water cat. Lure her to an electrical line and she'll go zap regardless of whatever aqueous form she takes," the demon gauntlet in Zari's right hand spoke aloud, yawning. "Or bring me close to her face and I'll partially transform my eyes to try and put her to sleep. Regardless, I've gathered an extra 0.5 gallons of blood for you to utilize as you please to make a dome or whatever. You just gotta get close...so fly in there or something."

The extra 0.5 gallon, which didn't fit in Jarvis's already full 1.5 gallon blood container, hovered as a red tendril connected to the gemstone, but it was ready to take any shape. Zari held up the glove and looked it up and down. His face was inscrutable, but his soul reverberated confusion. "... fly?"

In response to Zari’s question, the blood tendril (of 0.5 gallons) flattened and curled, reshaping itself into one large (--er than average), bat-shaped wing. Another 0.5 gallons of blood sprouted from the gemstone to form a matching wing on the other side. Jarvis’s reflection appeared in the center of the gemstone, his expression as lazy as ever. “So long as I am worn, I can manipulate these blood wings to flap and take you where you want to be.” Probably. “Does a sneak attack from above work for you?”

Though he did not make it outwardly apparent, Zari soul reverberated with amazement as he held the glove towards the sky and looked it over, unsure if it would hold for him. He glanced over to Adrian. “Then, if possible, I go in from above - you below, and trap it in the middle?” His voice took on an unusually dynamic tone, as he genuinely seemed interested in this new development.

A trap could work. Adrian evaluated everything that Zari had said, but more so, everything it seen Jarvis and Shuumie do. Adrian shifted both of his hands into the restraints that were within his Iron Maiden form, and quickly glanced at them with a note of distaste. He wasn’t a fan of this tactic. Not only did it feel cheap, it wasn’t within the warrior spirit he normally kept. But, this wasn’t a fight. It was a capture. His weapon form had been used often to protect VIP’s on missions, relegating him to a role not unlike this. He much preferred to fight, but if this is how it had to go… he needed to accept that.

”If you can get Shuumie to stand still, I have… a technique that could work. If a target is caught in four of these restraints, I can transform into my Iron Maiden and capture them. That form isn’t water-tight. The head of the Maiden is open to spill the blood of those impaled within. But if Jarvis blocks that, I’ll be a nigh-indestructible trap. Heavy and immobile, but a trap, Adrian said, explaining the mechanics of his Iron Maiden transformation. Something about the way he described this, specifically a lack of enthusiasm normally present for his skills, would have made it at least slightly obvious that he wasn’t a fan of this approach.

”I can self-resonate and blitz in to make whatever opening you give me work, if that’s the plan you want,” he added, at least following through with support for the plan. As he spoke, his wavelength was already spiking, preparing for Self-Resonance.

“Sounds good,” Jarvis’s reflection replied aloud, noting the displeasure in Maiden’s tone, but pleased his fellow demon weapon seemed willing to set aside personal pleasures in order to work together and get the mission done with–something that should’ve been done at the start of the mission, mind you, but no one really expected the skittish-looking magical cat in the picture to put up so much resistance. “If you’re going in through the fence, Maiden, try to avoid the pools and projectiles of acid. I don’t know what Zosar intends to do, but we should do our best to capture” and not stab “Shuumie before then.”

The demon gauntlet had seen (peeked at) Zari’s text to Zosar of course, but he didn’t know how Shuumie’s kits “soul bonding” with the “non-undead” was relevant to anything so he didn’t comment on it. He was also pleased Zari seemed to like the wings, but didn’t comment on that either. The relaxed, contentment echoing off his soul should’ve been telling enough.

"See you at the middle." Zari said with a nod towards Adrian, then leapt to the top of the fence and held his arm up. The wings of blood started to flap and it wasn’t before Zari found himself in the air, narrowly avoiding the water/acid projectile that shot his way.

Not exactly a feather, are you? The gauntlet’s thoughts flowed into Zari.

A ‘sneak attack’ wouldn’t really work if Shuumie had them in its sights, but if the goal was to distract the magical feline until Adrian could blitz in from the base of the building to catch it in his Maiden form, they were doing well enough flying around. Up. Down. Wherever acid-water wasn’t.

I’m not a Grigori soul and flying isn’t completely natural to me… Without practice anyway. The gauntlet focused its attention on flapping its blood wings and dodging whatever attack may come their way …so don’t get hit.

Meanwhile, Adrian noted the comments made by Jarvis, and luckily he had an answer for that. He started to dart forward towards the fence, launching over it and creating two spikes on the bottom of each foot to lift himself off of the ground like stilts, keeping him out of contact with any hazards. At the same time, focusing his efforts on pre-emptively setting up his Soul Resonance. It wasn’t exactly an easy technique, and he would need it to be ready right on time. Yet again, it was a game of timing. Wait and wait until he saw his best opening. Whether it was made by Zosar and Adra or Jarvis and Zari, he would need to be in there at the perfect time to get all four of his restraints on.

Above Adrian, Zari and Jarvis circled behind the building to escape Shuumie’s line of sight and soared in through one of the paneless windows above the floor where the cat seemed to have settled herself in. As the wings retracted to make them fit through the window, Zari vaulted across the frame and made a three point landing on the cold concrete. Stealth wasn’t an option here, they were only trying to force the Shuumie into Adrian’s grasp, so Zari ran directly down the building, hopping down the skeleton outline of concrete stairs to hit the floor of the building below and then walked out into the space where the Shuumie stayed. Hopefully, whatever Zosar had in mind would come to pass soon.

Remember, she’s skittish, so approach cautiously else she’ll bolt again…


”She’ll bolt regardless. She can smell you.”

Wonderful…

Shuumie pounced at them.

Meanwhile, Adrian perched himself literally into a wall watching them, spikes protruding from his back to anchor himself in place while he stirred his Wavelength. One half to amplify, the other to be amplified, charging himself in place with massive spikes of his power flowing through him, ready to leap out the moment he saw whatever opening Zari and Jarvis intended to create. Zosar seemed off-beat, obsessed with his new second objective of the kittens.

”Oh wow, coming straight to us.” Zari’s feet slid a shoulder’s width apart, and he narrowly dodged under and away from the Shuumie’s first attack. Water was everywhere, and it was only a matter of time before they were going to be assaulted from all sides again - and Zari was getting a little fed up with the game of cat and mouse. In the split second before it pounced again, he whispered to Jarvis over their link. ”Turn back into yourself. I’ll get you the opening to give Adrian his. Trust me.”

As Jarvis’ light of transformation brought him a few yards away from Zari, the Shuumie acted as he’d suspected. It turned its attention towards the undead, and that split second of doubt was all that the meister needed. In the middle of its lunge, Zari pressed his physique to the limit and swiftly appeared just at its side, where his soul exploded with activity. It had been a long time since he attempted Soul Drain, and even after all this training he had no hope of activating it without damaging everyone he physically touched. His wavelength flickered and roared like an inferno as he thrust his open palm into the Shuumie’s lower back, causing it to bend its hind legs and give a brief pause from the impact. Then, it felt its power being siphoned and burned by the black hole of a wavelength clutching onto it. Zari gripped as hard as he could at the creature that more resembled water than cat, and glanced expectantly at Jarvis.

The glowing light took physical form in the shape of a squatting, humanoid figure crouched forward with its hands stuffed in the pocket of its jacket. Before the magical feline could burst into water, it met glowing bloodsucker eyes.

"Sleep."​

The creature in Zari's grasp stilled, seeming to cease in its struggles. It grew drowsier, its attempts at water-changing inconsistent. Jarvis watched Shuumie until she slumped over. That happened to be all of the opportunity Adrian needed. Death be damned, Jarvis was kickass. Not much time for that thought, though, given the next moment by, Adrian launched himself off the wall he clung to like a hellfire missile aimed directly at Shuumie. That adorable little rest of hers wouldn’t get to last long as his impact resulted in…

One clamp on her front paw.

One clamp on the second, his shins now transforming into two more restraints.

Then flipping his body over hers, he slammed his shins down on her back hind legs–not a perfect fit, but enough for his next trick. Full weapon transformation. It wasn’t a common sight with Adrian; the last time he did this, it was almost entirely unseen by anyone but Adra as he used it to copy a wooden ball. This was even more rare. He was doing it mid combat.

Restrained and outsped by the weapon transformation of the Maiden, Adrian now completely surrounded her in his Iron Maiden form. Of course, he was heavy and was mid-air, so the giant chunk of indestructible iron was sent plummeting to the ground, but the hardest part was over. Shuumie was inside of him. Now, all that mattered was Zari and Jarvis following up to cover the slits in his head, and there would be no way for the beast to escape, or harm him during containment.

“Tight form,” Jarvis complimented as he straightened, cracking his neck and rolling each shoulder. Sudden switches from weapon form to bloodsucker form did take a moment for him to adapt to, and entirely new limbs were all together more difficult. Remembering what Adrian said about his weapon form not being enough to contain Shuumie, Jarvis walked over to the Iron Maiden, nicking his pointer finger and raising it towards the slits in the Iron Maiden’s head. A line of blood poured out from his finger tip to crawl on iron, spreading to fill up all the cracks and crevices that Jarvis could see before hardening like cement. Jarvis sighed, closing his fist to cut off that line, and stuffing the hand back in his pocket. Utilizing his own blood always made him feel hungrier, the familiar gnaw in his stomach reminding him that he would need to hunt soon–or pay another visit to the blood bank–, but Jarvis pushed that feeling back for now. For now, he was simply relieved the mission was over and done with.

Jarvis looked to Zari, to make sure the meister was alright, before looking back at the giant hunk of heavy-looking iron, now colored by a bit of red to cover any openings. “...you think she can breathe in there?”

Adrian would have gladly told him there was air in their for quite a while, but Jarvis’ blood over the slits of the head of this form was akin to a hand over the mouth. And, Adrian wasn’t nearly talented enough to somehow commune through the blood like Zari could with the gauntlet. Such was the fate of a stationary weapon.

Shuumie, however, was anything but quiet, banging around inside of Adrian and even pressing against the blood-covered openings at some points looking for an escape, snarling and creating a ruckus on the inside of the metallic form. The reality that this Iron Maiden was truly an indestructible prison had the opportunity to sink in. For Adrian, this was less of a boon, and more of an unfortunate relegation to a role he had a distaste for, but mission success was just that: success.

Zari sat down with his legs folded and sighed. At least that was over, now they just needed to return the creature before it managed to find a crack to slip out through again. With a flick of his wrist he pulled out his communicator and called for Midori to give him a status update. Now, there was just the issue of hauling Adrian’s weapon form…

Prizzy Kriyze QuirkyAngel The Regal Rper Sybil

 

[The Regal Rper]

Zosar | Death City | South District

March 9th

At the first vibration, Zosar was quick to pick the communicator up, seeing Zari's written message.

It's about the kittens. Just a warning on touching them.

Honestly, he hadn't forgotten about the linking these creatures could do. That was what the bag was for. Though if the others were here from what his senses could detect perhaps it would be better to follow Adra's earlier advice and hold off on immediately picking up these critters and stuffing them in a bag like he used to do to his pockets when he'd be robbing people blind in the streets back in Jamaica and occasionally, the assholes that would hire them.

"We'll be back for you later." He whispered to the slumbering litter of seven.

He turned, and made a careful retreat to where he could sense the spike of soul's, where the others were with Shuumei. No doubt they were engaging her already, and since he hadn't stolen a kitten like he'd planned to get the mother's attention and provide the other's an opening like he had initially thought he would, Zosar decided to improvise- at least till he emerged right as he watched Jarvis knock Shuumei out cold.

"Oh..." His lips pursed. I guess that's that. The message travelled through the link. He watched as Jarvis sealed up Adrian's form with his blood, and then looked around to survey any of the damage that might have been.

All they had really done was just cover the trail of destruction Shuumei had left in her wake in her flight. That was probably the only real noteworthy thing he or Adra had really done out of all of this. Would it be getting the same attention like the people that actually handled the target in question? He didn't know, but he didn't entirely care either.

It was enough for him that they had managed to stop some of the damage she could have caused being more severe than it ought to have been, but his partner might've felt otherwise- and Zosar kept his attention out in case Adra might have felt otherwise anyway.

Reaching for his communicator he contacted Midori: "Target acquired. Mission complete. Adrian looks like he won't be moving anytime soon so we're a bit stuck where we are at the moment. There's a litter of seven kittens here also. We'll wait for your feedback on how to proceed."

Maybe Jarvis had some weird supernatural strength like one of the Bloodsucker's Hiroshi, Icarus, and some of the Senior agents had been sent out to kill that had been noted as a target of interest by some of their contacts. He never really got to find out what had happened to on that mission even though he knew all of them had returned from it.

Been around the time they had been sent out to here.

Zosar glanced back to the half-finished building, and pondered what it would be like having a magical tiger for a pet.

One he could probably train to kill more effectively than even Shuumei had with enough time.

The temptation was there, but it was better to wait and see what Midori decided-- for now at least, and probably see if Adra would actually go and punch Zari now that the mission was over.

Mentions: QuirkyAngel Prizzy Kriyze

Interactions: Sir Les Paul Sybil

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Midori☆Hoshi​

"Dark Star"​

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

Location Death City, within the southeast entertainment district
Mission Finding Shuumie
Status Appeased, relieved

​

Tags: The Regal Rper Prizzy Kriyze QuirkyAngel Sybil

Once the chase started after Shuumie, Midori had left his perch from a fair distance away and suppressed his wavelength to avoid being noticed yet again. It was an impressive series of events for a group that had been together the lesser part of a week. His perception always active, he found that the group made several significant leaps and strides. Perhaps the most significant individual accomplishment came from that of Adra. He couldn't feasibly know what was going through her mind, but she managed to complete the first Calm Seal. He could make out the trademark visual distinction of it from his distance. As if a thin bubble or shell surrounded her soul, although more accurately it was the same size as ever but slightly condensed. What it meant is that somehow on the fly, she brought forth the culmination of her years of training.

He could only speculate on this. Maybe a proper mission or active motivation is what she needed to be the final push. It could also be something about Zosar, but that was somewhat unlikely. The Calm Seals and their training was quite the individual experience. That would be all on Adra.

The Self-Resonance from Adrian was markedly impressive as well. He was using it far different than how his profile describe his previous use. His first impalement of Shuumie was quite precise. Himself like a human arrow shot right through her, then a follow-up of aggressive stabbing. That wavelength of his was... particularly nasty. Had the others a Soul Perception that allowed for more vivid detail, he was sure that they too would be able to see the agony that was the ability. It was less what he did and more so how he did it that made it notable. Midori further speculated that despite the ferocious approach he had once he was on Shuumie, Adrian waited to do so until a moment he was sure he could make contact, and more importantly, everyone else was clear. A series of checks to ensure safety.

Beyond that, the communication between Zari, Jarvis, and Adrian was what he considered the most impressive team dynamic, and it most definitely showed when they developed it even further to create a plan to capture Shuumie. It was a lie to say Zari was naturally gifted; he worked hard for his skill. What he didn't know is that he seemed to be a natural leader. Zari brought out the cooperation in Jarvis and Adrian. His bloodsucker gauntlet not only opting to use his abilities and be an active team member, but the forward motion of the team helping to push Adrian to use his full weapon transformation despite his distaste of it. Sure, Adrian was more agreeable than he used to be, but under proper leadership, it prevented what could have been problems from being obstacles in their goal.

Midori was pleased. Zosar tried to add to the team, too, using Adra to inflict damage on Shuumie. He may not have been involved in the trio that caught her, but he did locate and identify the kittens. That was somewhat of a surprise for even Midori, but not one that should interfere with overall plan he had. Zosar showed an independent initiative beyond the mission outlines. Left unchecked, that could eventually become a problem, but for now, it was noted as a positive trait--likely linked to his in field experience.

Once Midori received not one, but two messages, and saw the situation stable, he knew it was time to reveal himself. Waltzing out of a shady hole made by the bright neon lights and a shoddy, aluminum vent cover for the roofs, he released his suppression, then eventually dropped down to specifically where the Iron Maiden had settled once it dropped, then approach carrying what looked like an oversized cat carrier. He sat it down, opened it up, then pulled out a few sets of gloves, a collar, an extending stick, then a roll of what appeared to be stickers. He instructed Zosar to put the stickers on the bag meant for the kittens, and to handle them with the gloves provided to avoid triggering their eyes to open. The stickers were similar to rune reinforcements and would prevent any shenanigans. From there, he instructed Zari to hold the cat carrier up as close as possible to the slits of the Iron Maiden and Jarvis to make a funnel to its opening. It took some effort, and some prodding from Adrian's spikes, but eventually Shuumie crossed this blood bridge into the carrier, which immediately locked her down and dampened her magic, preventing her from escaping it. Now, getting the collar on with the stick, however, was a more tricky task, but still eventually accomplished. With Shuumie in the cat carrier and these seven precious kittens now secured inside this runesealed bag, the mission was truly complete.

"Congratulations, Team Arrow. You've done well. In fact, better than I expected. The teamwork and initiative shown are great signs and will be noted in my report to Cyrus. But, I do believe it's important to emphasize to you just this time how well you did. This mission had an expected collateral damage rating as most do. You five managed to only do thirty percent or so of what was deemed 'acceptable damage' in completing this mission, in no small part to working together. That is a value even some Two-Star teams rarely achieve," he explained to them. While he wasn't smiling, there was an enthusiasm in his tone that was somewhat uncharacteristic, somewhat driving home how big of an accomplishment this was.

"I think we should all also take a moment to give some love to Adra. Not many of you noticed, I'd guess, but she now has a complete First Seal. That is no small feat, so do give her your praise as well," he mentioned, his off-color eyes darting over to her. He was sure that she wouldn't exactly appreciate the extra attention, but he didn't want to let her milestones go unnoticed.

"Oh, and one last thing. I'll turn these in, I believe you all have earned something," he added. From there, he pulled out what appeared to be a credit card with the DWMA logo on it. He handed this quite specifically to Zari. "Use this to cover a full meal and some arcade games at Skull Armada. You'll also receive a bonus to your monthly stipend for completing the mission--and I'll see if I can get a little extra for the kittens. This card is only approved there for the night, but otherwise has no spending limit. No alcohol, I'm afraid, but they will have a few assorted bloodpacks for you, Jarvis. Some straight, as I'm sure you're exhausted, but the bartender there won't have a problem adding them to mixed drinks, if you like. You could have a literal Bloody Mary, if you're a tomato guy," he told them. It was his idea of a nice gift to them for completing their mission.

"In case you aren't familiar. Skull Armada is a vintage arcade themed eatery. Plenty of good food, but the real appeal are these token fed standing video games, alongside things like pinball, pool, and a few other dated items. Pretty rare these days, but I'm a fan. I'll meet you there myself once I have these handled. It's not on Main Street, it's actually further East of here. You can find it on your phones," he explained, giving them some vague directions and more so explaining a little about the place he picked for them. He wasn't super sure if it would go over well, but getting anywhere approved for the Fate Program wasn't exactly easy.

With that, Midori picked up the cat carrier and gingerly lifted the bag full of kittens. He really would need a better way to carry these; PETA would not be happy, he imagined. That, and their value was well over a million, he imagined. They were each far more valuable than Shuumie herself. He offered them a gentle nod, then headed off, this time using the normal exits as opposed to scaling walls or parkouring through the streets.

 

[Sir Les Paul]

Furry vs Scaly, what we've waited for​

by request of Prizzy​

Meditating was eventful.

Sara learned quite a bit about herself, attempting to do that focus thing that Midori and his cousin said earlier. With her eyes a bit more opened, Sara went into this fight with some hope that she’ll show what she’s capable of and even gain some notoriety by being able to trade blows with that of the Mabian line.

The werewolf sighed from the giddy feeling of a challenging fight and looked up at Midori. “Even with such a short time training, I’m pretty sure we’ll fare well.” Of course, her optimism was next to unrealistic, but she was still nervous. Of course, they were going up against someone of Mabian descent. However, that nervousness cracked through and her smile faltered and her tone shifted from being chipper to apologetic. “But I’m sorry if I end up dulling your blades. Hopefully, there won’t be an issue.”

”Worry less about my blades and more about your hide,” Midori responded. His tone was stern. His affect flat. His focus honed. He looked over to her with his dual colored eyes, but the life and spark that was normally in them was replaced with a dull, yet intense sheen. ”The Witch Realm is one where power rules. I’ll jump right to the point; Iris is too close to Maba to take lightly. The difference in magical potency puts her at the starting line ahead of what some Witches may achieve in their lifetime, Sara. Her magic was sealed for a reason,” Midori explained to her, outlining precisely why her current lackadaisical tone didn’t approach the gravitas of their current situation.

”You cannot start a fight like this thinking you can hold back. Whatever you’re feeling now,” he instructed her, but put drastic, almost passionate emphasis on the following part, ”turn it into fuel. Do not fight it, embrace it, and weaponize it.” He inhaled deeply, then added one last comment in a more calm tone, ”Trust me, I’m not weapon enough for her.”

”Now tell me, Bident or dual blades?” he asked, quickly changing the topic and asking what was needed to proceed.

Sara watched Midori with awe as he spoke. Yeah, he was right, Iris shouldn’t be trifled with or even underestimated. How hard would the witch go? Hard enough to try and get it done in under thirty seconds? Sara wasn’t going to allow that. The spark in her eyes burned brighter to make up for the dullness in Midori’s gaze. She nodded, a determined smile growing on her face. “If she’s that strong, then I don’t need to worry. Bident.” She held out her hand, her soul already getting ready to wield the Hoshi.

Midori saw the fire in her eyes. Impressive. She had the willpower to at least make the effort. Or the stupidity. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. In any case, it wasn’t time to question her–or anything. This fight required commitment. Midori was not one to just transform, no. With her hand outstretched, he extended his own to grasp hers, then gave her a calm nod before transforming. The red light of his transformation enveloping him before reshaping itself into that of his bident form. Long, cold steel, all a dark, dull metal almost without a sheet, leading up to the two bright blue blades that defined all of his forms. Inside her hand was not just a weapon, but his own soul. His own will.

Midori was cold. Not just as a piece of steel, but his soul. Not frigid, but chilled. It reeked of death, not just of what he killed, but the death that defined him as a person. Midori had–twice–walked beyond the grave, and it left its marks on him and his soul. His soul felt hollow, almost like a grave, and within it dampened echoes of his determination. His was not the bright flares or burning lights of others, nor did it possess their powerful draw. Instead, it possessed a focus. A singular urge to cut down the target set in front of him.

’Wielding a Hoshi is not easy, wielding me is even harder. You either stare into the abyss, or my blades grow dull,’ he explained, now a voice shared by their connection.

The feeling of wielding a Hoshi probably wasn’t like this, from what Sara had gathered. His soul’s deathly chill sent a shiver down her spine as she held his form in both hands, finding the weight to be a bit heavier than what she was used to. They weren’t going to resonate, but that didn’t matter to her. Closing her eyes, she focused on her own soul. The warm, happy rays of sunshine falling over a harmonic forest with a beast hiding underneath its inconspicuous, luscious grass and damp soil. In comparison to Midori’s soul, Sara’s was full of life and wonder with a hidden darkness underneath it all. Feeling Midori’s soul felt like the type of chill to hug away with her warmth, but she knew better. This was him. It wouldn’t simply go away, not that she wanted to change it.

But with the cold of death, she also felt the focus, the emptiness with what felt like remnants of his determination, or perhaps it originated from deep within. Soon her own soul didn’t radiate as bright as it did. Not trying to copy him, but to join in with the focus. With his words, it almost felt like a challenge, but she knew better not to fall into it with gungho lest there was a rejection from her carelessness. No, but she did take it near literally, her soul wanting to connect with his. Maybe he felt the warmth of her soul next to his, heard the calm rustling of her forest, or heard the soft growl of her soul’s personification of her bloodlust from underneath, but making a tighter bridge was her way of staring into that abyss. If she wanted to stare into the chilly darkness that was his soul, she would. She could feel death crawling up her spine and it was not one she wasn’t completely unfamiliar with but a feeling she’d rather not dance with for too long. Still, her stubbornness kept her focus.

“Question.” She spoke aloud, before dipping into their connection. ‘Has the abyss ever blinked?’ Despite the joke, her tone was serious. She held him completely vertically in front of her, his staff’s end just off the floor as her grasp was firm, looking like she’ll spin him any moment.

’Only to weep for fallen friends, Sara,’ he responded with a fairly foreboding, ominous answer. This Midori was different from the vivacious, flirtatious individual many knew him as when he walked on his own two legs. His focus was as sharp as a barber’s razor, and his intent was pure. From the cool darkness that was his soul was a singular urge. To cut down those in front of him. Namely, Iris. The golden rays of her bright soul did nothing to illuminate his, the warmth hit a wall of cold like a walk-in freezer on a hot summer day, and even that hidden bloodlust did not stir him. All that came from this abyss was his disembodied voice, for even his form itself did not manifest. There was no give and take with Midori, not like there was with Noah or anyone else. Even the steel of his weapon form was somewhat chilled in her hands.

”If the combatants are set,” Cyrus announced, noting the lack of rejection between the two with his own soul perception, ”You may approach, greet each other, then take your thirty paces. During this fight, Midori will be forbidden from taking his autonomous form. A partial transformation will constitute a disqualification. Additionally, while I doubt you two are inclined to repeat the mistakes of your predecessors, we will urge you to avoid attempting Resonance,” he went on to explain, giving them the specific rules for the fight and how to proceed.

For Sara, the werewolf with already keen senses, there was one notable difference upon wielding Midori. A hyper-fixation of sorts on Cyrus as he spoke. Every word, every syllable, it would feel as if she could sense the vibrations in his vocal chords. Her keen ears even keener, not only hearing his heartbeat–which was abnormally slow–but even the pressure of the blood flowing through his arteries. All of her senses were sharper, sharper than even her canine advantage were accustomed to. The sweat that was formulating on his forehead from the increasing heat, the faint taste of salt because of it, the even fainter tinge of melon and coffee from his breakfast–it was all there.

This was the skill of a weapon that could enhance its Meister even further, something beyond what the One-Stars were capable of. It was akin to seeing the world in Full HD for the first time after living in 240p. Midori was not skilled enough to repress this effect, only skilled enough to achieve it. It was just one of the many obstacles to overcome wielding a weapon outside of one’s regular rank, and something even Midori forgot to explain.

Iris was slightly obscured, leaned against the wall in the opening into the Arena when Cyrus spoke. She’d kept her attention inwards, playing with and feeling out the fairly freshly unrestricted flow of mana running through her veins like stretching old muscles. When the announcement came her head turned in the direction of the sound, and she finally laid eyes on her opponents. Sara, was her name, and in her hand a long polearm gleamed in the sun. Furry ears perked up through her hair and a tail behind her. Iris blew air out of her nose in surprise at the spectacle, then shoved away from the wall and began heading towards the center.

In honesty, she didn’t much like to be the center of attention like this. She wanted to be able to take up a lot of space in any room she was in, but she didn’t want fame. That’s why her white hood was up, her head was down, and her hands were firmly placed inside her pockets as she strolled up to her opponent. Sara was almost a full foot shorter than her, so she didn’t have to look very far up to meet her eyes, unobstructed by the glasses she’d left behind in fear of having them broken.

“I hear werewolves regenerate pretty well.” She spoke, as she removed her hands from her pockets, revealing the blood-stained bandages they were wrapped in. Slowly and deliberately, she proceeded to begin removing it in sections. Her forearms were already covered in scales, greenish blue like the ocean, but scattering redder colors when struck directly by the sun. “That means we don’t have to worry all that much about injuring one another, huh?” In spite of the fairly fresh gauze there were no visible injuries on her, and Iris casually let the bandage fall to settle on the ground.

It was odd, feeling Midori the way he was. Unlike most other weapon souls, her soul stood beside him instead of encircling or merging. At least the connection was strong enough. His words had her soul take on a more solemn note, almost mourning for those she did not know. However, her soul, as if facing his, did not stir or break away from concentration. As Cyrus spoke, Sara walked to the stage and found Iris. The woman was taller than her by a whole head and a half, she wore a hoodie that covered her face but she could still see the salmon-colored hair in that braid. From her soul, Sara could smell…

A lot.

She was very aware of Cyrus, despite being on the ground. Cyrus’ very being permeated everything about her and now Iris. If she hadn’t gone through training as a werewolf of the tracking clan, it would have overstimulated her senses. It was obvious now that Iris smelled sour, but not like a lemon, but like acid in general. Poison, similar to Adra, but the neurotoxin kind. But she also smelled spicy from her hotheadedness, and the magic that permeated her body. She was similar to Chanterelle then. The metallic smell of the blood on her knuckles she could scent out even before she let the bandages fall and Sara found herself smirking. “We do, yes, but not like the Immortal Clan, and for good reason. I also heard of how strong you are. I won’t take this fight lightly, because I know you won’t.” Her smirk widened, feeling competitive now. She held Midori’s staff in opposite hand holds, his bladed end in the air as she almost wielded him like a warhammer or a spear, her stance wide for stability. This was it. Her chance to shine. She closed her eyes, focused on Iris and only Iris, using her scent as she breathed in to still her mind like how her father taught her when hunting and getting ready to pounce. Her sole purpose was to fight Iris. Killing? She knew she wouldn’t be able to, but she could certainly try.

When she opened her eyes, there was a very different Sara on the field. Not the rambunctious, sweet were-dog, but that of a focused predator as her wavelength began to amplify to increase her speed, doing so in intervals to test out how much she could do without Midori’s help.

Iris smiled at the sentiment, and cracked each of her fists. "I appreciate that. Give 'em a show, Old Yeller." She turned to casually show her opponent her back as she walked away to assume the thirty feet. She cocked her head to one side to crack her neck, and as she did the hood fell back from her head. It continued to fall, revealing her equally feather-white tank top underneath, as well the continuous spread of scales up her shoulders, down her shoulder blades, disappearing inside of her clothes and stopping just above the nape of her neck. Her hoodie stopped at the crease of her arms, and as she reached her position she spun around and threw it aside. Her stance was cocky, open, and feminine, hands hovering just over her body below the hip and shoulders rolled back, one foot only a few inches in front of the other. Tall, proud, and self-assured. Soon the match would start, and she could test a measure of her mettle again. It positively made the fangs grow pointed inside of her mouth, and the claws on her hands to sharpen.

Sara stepped back a few feet, shuffling over the ground until they reached thirty paces distance. The detail of the scales had Sara wondering if she was a dragon (and how much she's been missing out on all these enhancements from a stronger weapon). Either way, if she was a dragon, she'll have to actually cut. Sara focused on her connection with Midori, wanting to make sure he was extra sharp as she focused on the killing intent. The beast under the soil of her soul growled and stained the grass and dirt red, but she forced it back down from years of discipline. No, no enjoyment or rending apart her body. She couldn't have that. Just the intent to kill. This was a lot harder than she had thought.

’I told you before: Hydra,’ Midori chirped in, his voice broadcast out of the darkness that was his soul. ’I can hear your thoughts, and you mine,’ he explained, ’but I have been silent in focus. With that, Midori allowed the chilling ferocity of his wavelength to take whatever Sara was doing and make it that much more effective. She wanted to amplify her body? Perfect. Midori could do that, too. Not only did her senses sharpen, but as her wavelength coursed through her body, the chilling air from inside his Abyss poured into her soul like a London fog. Thick and dense, perhaps, suffocating even to those that were unaccustomed, but with it came something important: power. He was not gifting to her his own, he was taking her own and making it greater. Every muscle fiber she tried to enhance, he took it further.

The effort required to maintain focus on these enhancements lessened, yet their output increased. Not unlike how Dani regulated Nadia’s Wavelength in the previous fight, just a step further in skill. If Sara wanted speed, she would soar through the air. If she wanted strength, it would not be that of a wolf, but that of a charging bull. If she needed to take a hit, her skin as tough as a tortoise shell. True, they could not resonate, but that was not all a weapon did for their Meister. ’You need not worry about keeping your skills up, I can do that for you–for the most part. Now you two dance. Find her range, make an opening, deal some damage. The harder you fight to kill, the more I can blend my soul into yours, and the stronger I can make you,’ he explained, making sure she knew the dynamic of this type of assistance.

With the two combatants at their marks and time elapsed, Cyrus gave them both a daggered stare, then announced, ”And let the fight… BEGIN!” Midori, in her soul, only added one comment, ’Make. Her. Bleed.’

Sara was a bit caught off guard by the voice of Midori, having sensed her thought. She had, personally, forgotten about that bit. She was so busy trying to not take in too much of the world around her that she forgot some rather basic things about weapons. But then she felt her wavelength amplified, like an amp to an electric guitar. It felt so much better than when she had wielded Noah, Suzu, or even any of her other weapons. It was almost addicting. The chilling air had the hair down her neck, back, and tail standing on end and made her spine shiver. The harder she fought to kill, the better their bond was.

Making her bleed.

A metallic scent could be smelled from her soul as the soil became damp with crimson blood. She smirked. She shot forward, lunged with both legs and cleared their distance in a short couple of seconds. Before she got in range however, Sara jumped over Iris, vaulting herself over with grace and agility and twirled in the air to face Iris’ backside while swinging down the bladed portion of the staff, aiming for Iris’ head.

They waited none before they began amping up. It seemed she really wasn’t kidding when she said she’d take this seriously, in fact it seemed like Sara intended to try to finish this quickly. Fair enough, she probably wouldn’t win a war of attrition. Iris leaned forward and set her feet shoulder’s length apart. Even if she wanted to have more fun than just a couple of traded blows, she couldn’t let her guard down completely.

She was taken aback by Sara’s speed, however. With her muscles not yet enhanced she had no hope of keeping up with that, and her assumed boxer stance protecting her head wasn’t going to help after Sara leaped above her. For a moment she found her exposed back concerning, but the thought was quickly banished as she let a “Pssh,” escape her lips.

Iris stood up straight and raised her left arm behind her head, forearm laid flat against her neck and spine to protect it. It pulsed with magic, thickening in anticipation of the strike that she now doubted had enough body weight behind it to be fatal, regardless of the sharpness they’d achieved.

Sara watched as Iris put her arm back to protect herself. Was it really that enough? Doubts circled for just a moment. She didn’t want to actually harm her this badly, even with the scales, how sharp was Midori really? Sara blinked within her soul, away from the abyss for just a moment. She knew that Midori’s blades would have just slid off from how dull they became when she landed behind Iris. She was just about to ask if she was okay, only to see… No blood.

Oh, fuck.

She didn’t need to be told by Midori, she realized where she fucked up. If this were a real enemy, she would have been dead already. How stupid could she be?

Iris was expecting pain from not being fast enough to manage the pain receptors within her arm in time for the strike, but then the bident just slid harmlessly across her scales and she let out a scoff. Iris turned sideways and gave Sara a sidelong, taunting glare. “Play stupid games win stupid prizes, Sara.” She whispered, as she casually snapped the fingers of her right hand. In the glaring sun and heat of the arena her weak spell barely registered on her own honed radar, but the consequences soon made themselves clear.

The disgusting smell of burned fur spread throughout the air, as the tiny spark Iris had cast had spiraled its way around the two combatants and started the slightest of embers at the tip of Sara’s tail. A mischievous grin spread across Iris’ feature as her left arm once more pumped full of magic and grew another couple inches, and she lashed out half-heartedly at the girl behind her. It wasn’t to really injure, no; more to enforce a certain distance and pause for Sara to collect herself. Iris wasn’t all that interested in a half-assed fight.

’Sara, compose yourself,’ Midori said, his voice a little more faint inside her mind. ’She has given you an advantage in her pride. You now know that no matter how hard you strike, you likely won’t end her life, so you have no reason to hold back. You can fight to kill even if you don’t think you can,’ he explained to her, trying to keep her from absolutely freaking the fuck out over her burnt tail. ’Also, I’ll take you to the groomer after this fight, it’s fine,’ he quickly added.

Sara tilted her head in confusion once Iris whispered at her, wondering why she said that. It was kind of funny, but then she smelt burning fur. If she had scales… And the only person here had fur. She turned to see the tip of her tail on fire and she simply lidded her eyes with irritation at it. “Really?” She groaned, ears falling to the side. She looked back to see a swipe of Iris’ changed arm and she jumped back, causing the heat to get worse from the wind. Resting Midori against her shoulder, she reached back and gripped the tip of her tail as he spoke to her, putting it out with a twinge of pain curling her lip. It saddened her that he sounded so far away. She’ll have to try again. She wasn’t going to disappoint, she had to show what she was capable of besides a bit of acrobatics. She focused once again, aligning her soul with his and staring into the darkness to bring back that single-minded focus of killing Iris. Taking a deep breath, she held Midori more firmly and her eyes opened in a glare at Iris.

The werewolf wasn’t unaware, she knew why Iris swiped so languidly at her, as if she was wanting Sara to actually try again. She’ll just have to put trust in her opponent that Sara wasn’t actually going to kill her. Quashing the doubt back down, she shook her head and regained what she held before. Instead of being so gungho like earlier, she was a bit more careful. She charged forward, not as fast as she was before, only to quickly sidestep on the opposite end of Iris’ magically-affected arm to swing Midori’s blades at her other arm like a baseball bat before spinning it like a regular bo-staff.

Iris watched on while Sara briefly composed herself, silently beginning to layer spells within her body. Footholds for greater mutations, transmuting toxins inside herself, letting her sharp fangs and claws extend just a little further. When Sara finally acted, Iris took a wide stance, hunched forward, and filled her lung with air. “Maybe I should blame myself for going too easy on you. Need some motivation?” As Sara got close Iris exhaled in preparation for the next strike, and the air that followed was purple and opaque, smelled harsh like ammonia. Sara was faster, sure, but Iris was beginning to catch up. Iris followed her with her eyes as she dashed around and struck towards her left arm, she raised and revealed it from the cloud of toxins. It bulged with muscle, three times its previous size, and Iris leaned in towards the strike while turning towards Sara and raising her shoulder to maximize the surface area the bident would strike. Her powerful right leg crept forward with deceitful agility as she’d already drawn back her right arm.

The slash struck true, sliced into her upper triceps and nicked her left shoulder and shoulder blade sending a scatter of blood drops into the air, but she continued on relentlessly as if no pain was felt. Her large right arm flew forward with the weight of her twisting hips behind it, sending a straight punch directly towards Sara’s face. Her injured left arm was already nearly healed, and its claws dug into the floor of the arena as Iris took her second step towards her opponent to lead with her left foot and come into range; throwing an upwards swipe with her claws outstretched, aimed to rake across Sara’s front or face, whichever might come first.

Midori was quick to read and react these movements. He may not have the autonomy of a Meister, but he had the experience of a unique weapon. Midori transformed into his twin blades, each forming into quick beams of light–nearly instantly–for Sara to hold onto in her hands. ’Block the left claw, slash with the right sword. Keep her hurt, keep her healing,’ Midori instructed, a backseat Meister if ever there was one. More importantly, he followed up with his favorite words of advice like a mantra:

’Make. Her. Bleed.’

The chemical breath caught Sara a little off guard, but she was at least glad that her movements were faster. The cloud of toxins around her had worked in obscuring what her arms looked like and when she saw the arm, Sara realized just how strong she was. Still, the chemical smell was a lot to take in, so she held her breath so the scent didn’t burn her nose. Sara also realized the problem. Iris didn’t react to pain. As Iris attacked, Sara was about to use his bident form to block, but when his form shifted and she was holding two swords, she heard his thoughts. She didn’t need to be told twice. It was as if she was doing it as he was speaking. She stepped back and let the punch glance off as she sliced at her arm, and then sidestepped around the upward swipe and went to slice her arm. Having seen her body heal so quickly, like an Immortal Werewolf… It honestly terrified her just a little, her werewolf instincts wanting to quash the thing that made Iris too similar to the extinct clan.

Sara wanted her dead now.

There wasn’t much she could do to her body anyway. Her body healed too quickly and was far too strong, even rivaling her own self as a full on werewolf. The chant to ‘make her bleed’ had put a smirk on her face. ‘You’re a horrible influence, Midori.’ She focused, but not losing that smirk. ‘I like it.’ She spoke within their connection, holding Midori’s blades backwards with the blades running down the length of her forearm, the sharp edges outward. She dashed forward and tried to get into the miasmic, toxic cloud, holding her breath as she went for the stomach with just one sword, so she may slide right out. Her other arm switched hold on one blade and held it above her head, protecting her from Iris’ arm.

The toxicity grew in Iris' chest. Every exhale brought with another gust of poison breath. Her muscles creaked with more mass than she could last remember she had the freedom to explore. Blood sprayed into the air from the gashes in her arms that quickly began closing up. Her physical change was nearing completion, and so its corrosive properties now had it sputtering and hissing as it hit the arena floor and melted into it. Iris hadn't stopped grinning. Sara was fast, but she'd have to hold her breath forever and somehow dodge every drop of blood she loosened if she wanted to avoid being punished for her assault.

Sara came in for a low slash, and as she came close Iris dug her claws into the ground and threw her knee out in an attempt to intercept Sara's gut and drive the breath from her lungs. Her left hand slipped from the earth, and extended towards Sara to grab at her waist, big enough now to hold the werewolf in a single hand. Her limbs were longer now, outranging the short blades Midori had turned himself into. Even if she was dodging, Sara needed to maneuver ferociously to continue dodging. She wondered how long she could keep it up.

The toxic gas seeped into Sara’s skin, making her wince. However, the knee to her gut had her losing her breath. Feeling like her lungs were spasming, she tried to bolt out of there, only to be grabbed by the waist by her big hand. She needed-... No, no she didn’t. She didn’t want to be caught up in Iris’ grip, she was going to be thrown otherwise. Channeling her focus and with the twin blades, she stabbed them in Iris’ hand, and sliced them outwards, trying to cut off all her fingers, so she may bolt to safety and find another plan.

Iris raised her squirming opponent into the air, and grinned as her gas finally seemed to cause an effect. Then, there was a moment of surprise as her opponent went down the nuclear path, and violently thrust her blades into Iris hand, tearing out tendon and bone as three thick clawed fingers fell towards the ground limp. Uncalculated and desperate, she threw the now mostly fingerless arm around her falling opponent, pulling her in a hug. A splash of corrosive blood spilled onto the scene, as Iris proceeded to unhinge her jaw like a snake, and plunge her venomous dagger-like teeth into Sara's shoulder. Blood pumped, thick and ferric, into her mouth as she hissed out "Don't bite off more than you can chew."

Midori seized this particular opportunity for a surprise he doubted even Sara had anticipated. Transforming out of his weapon state and into his normal form, he took position on the ground crouched just under Sara, then with a sudden burst of his wavelength amplification shot his fist straight up into the jaw of Iris. No partial weapon transformation, per the stipulations, but it was a sucker punch from a Two-Star nonetheless.

Sara grit her teeth and, upon feeling Midori leave the connection temporarily, her soul lost the happy sunshine and feel-good breezes as she lost her focus. Everything was dark, as if it were put under a perpetual night with no moon, the soil was drenched in blood, and the earth shook within her soul. Holding back her beast, she let the bloodlust take over and she bit Iris’ arm upon feeling her teeth sink into her shoulder, letting out a shrill growl. The blood from Iris both from the stomach and when she bit down caused her body and mouth to sting and she let out an animalistic roar, curling up and then kicked her legs into Iris’ stomach so she can slip out of her grasp and get Midori back in her hand to help calm her down, reaching out for him with an outstretched hand.

"Don't burn your tongue." Iris hissed out with her viper-like tongue, as her toxic and corrosive blood burned Sara. With her teeth clamped around her shoulder, she couldn't even see when Midori transformed, only noticed as her head was smashed upwards hard enough to bend and break several teeth. Though the contusions and fractures caused by blunt force trauma were easier to heal than open wounds, the attack came as a complete surprise and the world blurred before her eyes for a second. Before she regained her senses, Sara had kicked away from her - albeit with less force, now that the resonant wavelength amplification was broken - and Iris hunched forward again as her dislocated jaw snapped back in place.

Through slitted eyes she glared at Midori. "This bullshit, huh?" Sara reached for him once more, but she was injured and poisoned - and Iris wanted some level of vengeance. "Nagi nagini, serpent serpenance." She uttered, engaging in the first incanted spell of the battle. She was near her limit of physical mass, as she'd nigh-on doubled in size. A powerful tail whipped the air behind her, and legs bursting with muscle carried her. Like a steamroller, she charged in-between them with noxious fumes bursting from her nose and mouth. It watered eyes, burned skin, obstructed airways, and obscured the playing field. Only foretold by a gurgling sound, a fist-sized blotch of acid was spat towards Midori from within the fog, soon followed by a machine gun hail of hydra scales gleaming with venom blood. He was a mentor, a known assassin, and fast as all hell, but Iris was out for her pound of flesh.

Midori attempted to gain some space between them, his raw speed likely would have cut it for at least a dodge, but a new factor fell into play. Riley, for the first time in any of the fights, stepped in with Sidewayz in what appeared to be a massive… can opener? It was in Weapon Resonance form, nearly the size of himself, and completely coated in a blue layer of wavelength, and once he used it to block the majority of the venom blood, he negated its properties immediately, resulting in it soon falling to the marbled tiling inert. With a quick shift in his weapon form to its standard knife form, he swept it through the air, effectively blowing away the fog so that Iris had perfectly clear sight of him.

He had a fairly relaxed vibe to him, honey eyes, and what seemed like not an ounce of worry in the world. In what only could be described as a chill tone, he explained the situation briefly to Iris. ”Cyrus is going to have a little chat with Midori about the uh… spirit of this duel. Give’m a second and you can go back to knocking their shit in, yeah?” he said, offering her what little of an explanation he could.

”Cool ass magic, by the way. I haven’t seen biomancy like this in years. What’s it, like seven spells worth of casting just to enhance one limb? Shit’s impressive,” he commented fairly nonchalantly, although quite genuinely. He knew his shit, too. Enough to know how complex her spellcasting was for what appeared to be simple effects. Unlike the overbearing tone Cyrus carried in just about every syllable he spat, Riley seemed fairly grounded; his comments lacking any of the condescension the Witch Realm or upper echelons of the DWMA normally had.

Meanwhile, Cyrus was even quicker in catching Midori. If you could call that catching. Midori found himself ramming into Cyrus like a brick wall as he backed up, forcing the weapon to bounce forward slightly only to realize a moment later just precisely who he ran into.

With his mic off for this exchange, Cyrus quickly, but firmly grabbed Midori by the shoulder to pull him in fairly close for his next set of instructions. ”Fuckhead, you’re meant to be a weapon this fight. Sara is the spotlight, not you. Not really a good show if all you do is dodge until she’s out of mana, now is it?” Cyrus told him, assertively reaffirming the point of this duel.

”You said no partial wea–”

--And now I’m clarifying. You stay in weapon form until one of these girls are out cold or forfeit. Transform again, and it’s a DQ. Don’t argue,” Cyrus said, cutting him off with a staunch reminder of how much he disliked backtalk.

Midori glared, feeling quite slighted, but just sighed then walked over to Sara. He grabbed her hand and returned to his bident form, albeit with a shift in his attitude. From that cold abyss he had for a soul was the radiating, begrudging feeling one possesses when they feel prejudice; that special cold-burning rage that occurs when a rule change swings out of your favor. ’Looks like this is all I can offer you this fight, Sara. My apologies,’ he commented with a somewhat sullen tone to his internal voice.

Sara had dove out of the way of the steamrolling dragon, lost within her own bloodlust and the burning, noxious fumes had made it worse. Noticing that there was a lull in the fight, Sara took it upon herself to really push her own bloodlust down. Both a gift and curse from her werewolf race, it was something that kept her from wielding Demon Weapons - let alone resonating with them - as it could cause rejection. Especially if the person was morally against the ideas swarming around in her head. She took a moment to hold her head in both hands, close her eyes, and breathe in the clean, unpolluted air tainted with metallic, sour blood and venom. The silent world started coming in with sound as she slowly stopped focusing on holding herself back. Her ears picked up the words Cyrus and Midori exchanged. If he hadn’t uppercutted Iris, she probably wouldn’t have been able to get out. Regardless, Midori did go against a rule, then again, it wasn’t explained very well.

Once she was able to breathe and think without her thoughts being covered in the want to rend and destroy Iris, she looked up to see a sullen Midori walking towards her. She held out her hand to hold his bident form. He apologized, and his soul - both in scent and in feel - was, to put simply, angry and resentful. Sara smiled softly. Her soul still held that bloody, chilly darkness from earlier, her bloodlust barely contained. But now that she had something else to focus on - that being his soul - it wasn’t such a strain. ‘That’s okay, Midori. I appreciate you helping me out of that bind, but I got it. Don’t worry. Besides, I’m trying to show off my capabilities, not try to win. But I do need you to stay connected with me. It gives me better focus to contain my bloodlust so I don’t end up transforming in the midst of combat. Funnily enough, I can focus on your soul easier than the others I have been with, probably because I’m not doing too much to even maintain a bridge or, I guess, not multitasking as much.’ She breathed in a bit easier, having noticed a new person on the field, but who was likely going to disappear soon. Letting out a sigh, she swung his bident around to get back into the spirit of fighting, her expression shifting from determined focus to a challenging smirk. Sara stood at the ready, waiting for the go ahead to start attacking again.

‘So, let’s have fun with it, yeah?’

The fog was blown away, and Iris rose to reveal her full height as it dissipated harmlessly into the atmosphere. She was a good ten feet tall, scaled from top to bottom, eyes replaced with slitted red dots in a serpentine head and stretchy clothes struggling to stay intact over her trunk-like limbs. She let out a long hiss in annoyance to the break, and turned to look down at the spellbreaker who’d stopped her first vocal spell as he disarmed her with casual conversation. She scoffed, and shook her head. Her voice was deep and wet, and it was clear she wasn’t used to speaking like this. ”It’sss a layering of ssspells with specific perimeters and metaphorical meaning. Requiresss little upkeep after fully cassst, but not optimal for a restricted mana sssource.” She conceded. It was true, this was her physical limit at this point, and it simply didn’t impress as much as towering over towns and spewing torrents of acid with seven heads at once - but she’d make it work.

Her imposing frame turned, and the ground cracked and shook whenever her clawed feet hit the ground. Her inner eyelids blinked once, and she glanced at Rand in the stands. He’d been nice enough to pull a few strings and get all this for her, she supposed she could grant his request in return. She crouched forward until she was on all four, and trained her attention on Sara who’d just been reunited with Midori. Iris was tired of the farce, the traded blows that didn’t really push the fight in either direction. She had more tools at her disposal, more physical strength, more mana by birthright than most could hope to achieve - and she’d play no longer. “All healed up, Sssara?” Her dark tone echoed throughout the quiet arena. “I’d like to fight you again sssomeday, when you’ve got a weapon you can resonate with. For now, I will ssstop playing around. Prepare yourssself.”

Riley and Cyrus stepped back out of the arena once both combatants were clearly focused and ready. Cyrus gave each one of them a focused stare, doing his best not to dart that glare of his in front of the audience to them. He outstretched his arm, then lowered it quick, shouting, ”Resume!”to each of the combatants.

The marble broke when Iris tensed her muscle, shrapnel scattered throughout the arena by the sheer force of it. "Nagi nagini, ssserpent ssserpenance." The scales across her back and arms stood on end and thickened, like a thousand tiny daggers poking out of her skin. Droplets of dark, pungent blood adorned them as magic surged within her body. Her claws grew long and crooked, her teeth wild and razor sharp. Without so much as looking at her opponent, she growled ”Get your head in the game.” Then her eyes shot open, and the ground shattered as she shot off towards Sara, much faster than you’d expect something of that size to move. Her frame cast a shadow over the werewolf as she held her curled arm aloft, and brought it down to backhand her across the length of the arena.

‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall.’ Sara thought to herself, smirking as she saw the witch chant and charge. She saw the back. It wasn’t a good idea, given she had caught sight of her scales all over the floor, more than usual. Which meant she could likely fire them off at her if she tried climbing up to her back. In fact, her entire body was a landmine of either scale or acid. A back of a hand was sent her way and she took a sidestep before jumping the height of the hand, flipping over it like a pole vaulter before landing on her feet and lunging. Eyes on her legs, she went after them first, dipping towards the center of the beast before lunging in a different direction, towards one of the legs as she swung the bladed end of Midori’s bident towards her knee.

Luckily for Sara, Iris’ imposing size and powerful magic worried Sara enough to continue the killing intent Midori needed to stay sharp. It was obvious that the one in trouble was Sara. Midori meanwhile evaluated the situation. He didn’t know the limits of the Witch in front of them, but he knew that the damage they were dealing wasn’t sufficient. He had to entirely rely on Sara to dance around Iris and find an opening, if that was even possible. ’All armor has weaknesses,’ he reminded her.

Iris was surprised to see she managed to pick up speed so soon, but she could at least keep up with her eyes. The bident came towards her knee, and Iris used Sara's momentum by attempting to intercept her body and bident with a kick of her own. She could cut into her leg if she'd like, Iris only needed to land a hit.

Seeing the knee come for her, she twirled and dove, the bident cleaving through her knee while avoiding most of the hit as it hit her legs. She spun horizontally before gripping the ground with her hand and digging in with her feet to keep herself from sliding, kneeling in a three-point stance with Midori behind her back. With a smirk, she realized that there might not be a weakness. ‘I dunno, Midori. She’s looking quite bulky.’ She charged forward. The main thing she should be hitting are the joints, keep her healing and preoccupied with her limbs before taking shots at her body. She lunged around to see Iris’ back and swung the blades as she jumped, slicing past her shoulders and back.

The same reality that hit Sara was striking Midori as he realized this behemoth of a witch just… kept going. As an assassin, a target he couldn’t get a quick, clean kill on often required adjustment, but sometimes that adjustment didn’t mean just keep hacking at it. It could have. The technique definitely could work. But, it was rarely the case, and more often the longer one was in combat, the more likely they were to get themselves hurt or killed. ’Sara, the way I see it, we have two options. First, you could unleash that primal rage I feel you fighting and see if that can cut her down. Second, you could abide by the tenants of an assassin… and just leave. The first match ended with the Meister in the hospital, the second ended with one nearly mad. A tactical retreat is not a mark of shame, but one of intellect; living to kill another day is smarter than fighting to the death,’ he explained to her, his internal voice echoing within her. His killing intent and even feelings of persecution did not waver, but even with them, he was able to formulate these rational decisions.

’Your choice is simple. Continue the cycle the rest of your team fell into, or break it,’ he told her, ’and regardless of which you choose, I will stand beside you. As a beast, or in defeat.’

The bident sliced into her leg, and she kept it aloft a second longer for the tendons to piece themselves back together - taking another two cuts to her back in the process. Sparks flew from where the scales had hardened enough for the strike not to cut through, but few things beat a demon weapon. A thick stream of blood momentarily ran down her back, and droplets cascaded over towards Sara. Iris turned her head and with a guttural sound spat a bolt of acid her way, before she once more turned in her direction. Using the momentum from rotating, she threw out an arm and swiped in a wide arc towards Sara - but was less intent on missing this time. As her arm came close, the pointed scales dislodged and shot out like a shotgun blast, toxins exploding outwards with them. It was violent and omnidirectional, as some of them even tore into her own clothing.

Sara listened to Midori as she flew through the air, taking her options as she saw fit, landing on the ground as she twisted her body in the air, narrowly avoiding the droplets from the cuts she gave the witch. She landed, jumping to the side to avoid the bolt of acid as it splashed and began to corrode the concrete. However, before she could get a thought across, the arm came swiftly and the omnidirectional shot of the scales had her balking. Where the fuck was she supposed to go?! She growled, gritting her teeth as she did her best to avoid the bullet hell that was her scales, showing off her acrobatic abilities in the process as she did what she could to minimally take damage. The scales cut through her clothes and her skin, but the sting made her feel alive. Like this battle was the balance between who was the predator and who was the prey. However, Sara didn’t have enough speed or reaction to jump away from the hand. She was knocked away, holding on tight to Midori’s bident form as she sailed through the air. Shaking her head, she righted her body and used the staff end to dig into the concrete, engraving a trail as she used him to stop her momentum. She was close to the wall now.

‘The choice is simple, but the werewolves - while tactical in a group - fight to the death if we are cornered. While we have a logical out, my instincts are telling me we don’t because it doesn’t take forfeiting into account. But win or lose, it does not matter. I’m here to show off and if I back out now, I will be giving my family and my race a bad name to people up there who don’t understand how fights work and there’s already a stigma on us. They may be smart in business, but they don’t risk their lives. I will continue, and I will show that we aren’t lost causes like how Cyrus thinks we are. I will prove them all.’

She sighed, breathing in and then letting it out to refocus her efforts in this fight. ‘Thank you, Midori. I see this fight as almost symbolic, so I’ll treat it as such. That we FATE agents will not surrender nor go away without a fight. Cyrus can suck it.’ She smirked before rushing forward, Midori held behind her back as she charged at Iris. Her soul began to spill in her space with blood, and she let that bloodlust almost consume her, but gave her enough breathing room to think and strategize. For now, she’ll dance around Iris, see if she attacks and go for an opening.

Blood bubbled and melted all around her by now, and Iris was still feeling the high from that very satisfying smash that Sara made as she went sailing through the air. On the other hand, she still seemed mostly unbothered by the toxins Iris kept introducing to her system, be it via the air or the scales. Given this was a friendly competition, Iris had cleansed all the potentially lethal strains from her system before the match had even started - but perhaps that’d been making it too easy on the werewolf.

Acid, however, seemed to work fine, judging by how much she had to dodge. She blew up her chest, and by making a shape with her tongue and her lips blew out a rain of corrosive saliva in Sara’s direction. Immediately she followed up by leaping towards her, aiming to land on her with one of her clawed feet.

’If you want to fight like a warrior, then so be it,’ Midori said, reverberating within her soul. ’I will give you every boon I can, but it will tax your body,’ Midori explained. The Abyss that was his soul seeped into that of his temporary partner. The inky blackness stretching into her soul space like tendrils, the chill permeating the air, the intensity of the darkness somehow growing despite it always being pitch black. This time, the core of his soul was near enough that the internal part of Sara could at least make out the faint, dimly lit core of Midori’s soul, although it was still far too out to actually reach it.

In that moment, Sara leaping towards Iris, Midori did everything he possibly could to give her an advantage. His focus shifted entirely off the fight, putting full faith into Sara, and instead it was narrowed in on the inner workings of her soul. Simultaneously, full-body Wavelength Amplification at the highest end of what Sara could do naturally, all without focus. Her Wavelength being regulated by Midori entirely. He focused on her soul so she could focus on the fight. And, the benefits were greater than before. Every muscle fiber he found she could amplify, he did so for her. Every movement, swift and fluid. Every strike with as much force as she could put out. With his focus on this, it was even less wasteful in terms of her reserves than if she had done it herself.

The drawback plainly being very few Meisters were ever accustomed to this level of full-body amplification, making the toll it took on their reserves and their body a double-edged sword. Sara specifically was not accustomed to high-end amplification at all, let alone her whole body at once. Even, for the moment, her circulatory system was doing its best to filter out the toxins Iris had implanted. For a few moments that Midori could gift her, she was at her absolute peak performance. It was genuinely now or never.

’Make her bleed, Sara,’ Midori repeated to her internally.

Sara never felt more energized. The feel of her body’s ability being unlocked almost had her miss out on what she was presently doing. Her nose picked up the acrid liquid however, and she refocused herself. She let her soul’s space mingle among the feeling of Midori’s soul and his words reverberated throughout her very being. She growled with a smile, her soul looking like a dark, bloody forest from a horror game than the paradise it had been before. ‘Gladly…’ She was starting to feel the corrosion and the pain from the acid however, as her body worked on overdrive and felt even more taxed than it had previously.

Seeing the corrosive rain, she began to spin Midori as she continued to run around Iris, using him as a makeshift shield to protect her mostly from the acid. However, it could only work for so long, as it still landed on her skin, making her growl more and more like an animal. Seeing Iris leap towards her, Sara held her breath and held Midori in both hands as she stopped in her tracks. ‘Swords.’ As the bident shifted into twin swords, she launched herself towards Iris as her clawed hand came down, going under her arm before lunging to the side, then jumping up to her arm and slicing her before kicking off her arm and landing nearby, only to quickly lunge for her stomach and land on the other side.

She noticed Iris wasn’t that great with faster opponents. Just as long as Sara kept moving and blocked any incoming limb with the swords to cut her, she was largely fine. All she had to do was avoid the toxins and the acid. However, she began to breathe some of the air around Iris and she felt her lungs burn and they wanted to spasm. Even as she coughed a few times and her eyes began to water, she used her nose and ears to determine where Iris was in accordance to herself before making any moves, her movements stopping then launching for a dodge with another attack. Stopping all her momentum almost immediately and waiting with her ears swiveling in every which way before lunging to almost get back the momentum she lost. Her jerking motions - kicking up dust and creating craters where she stood on sendoff - almost being unpredictable as she took advantage of the boost Midori was giving her while giving her body some time to rest in between attacks to continue fighting.

“What the fuck-” In spite of the injury, Sara just kept pushing herself beyond her previous records. Before Iris’ foot had even touched the ground, the werewolf was all over her with redoubled ferocity. A dash of concern swept over her features as she realized she couldn’t move fast enough to prevent the damage, and gash upon deep gash opened all over her body. As she turned to swipe out with her claws, Sara had already moved behind her cutting deep into tendon, bone, and forcing Iris onto one knee before again escaping the range of her retaliation. No doubt in high part due to Midori’s interference, the Witch quietly thought to herself as she struggled to keep regenerating at the rate she was being injured. This must’ve been what her tutor meant when she said brawn alone couldn’t defeat just any opponent. Iris clicked her tongue in frustration and honed in on Sara.

She could feel the cold grip of her seal against her heart and soul. She couldn’t keep expending mana like this.

That was just what her family inferred, wasn’t it? That she was just a rebellious teen, recklessly wasting away her potential. A bonehead, incapable of more complex thought than to charge and punch - now being outplayed at her own game by a quick fox with a sharp knife. ”No." Joints popped as she clenched her fist hard, and prepared for the next strike. Her healing had slowed, and blood was spilling out and digging through the floor tiles around her massive frame. She had to budget her power now, make a better strategy. Fold the ribcage aside, replace and rewire Type I muscle with Type II. Connect optical nerves, purge excess and non-vital systems. She had no hope in hell to follow Sara’s blurry frame at this rate, but she didn’t need to. What she did need was a lot of mana to make this work.

As Sara appeared behind the kneeling giant ready to gouge yet another hole in her defenses, several scales all across her body lifted to reveal eyes that quickly spun to focus on Sara. Iris’ head slumped down, as if it was a cartoon robot powering down - and suddenly her back exploded outwards. The flesh around the explosion browned like leaves in the fall, and swift like a viper a fifth clawed limb appeared through it to lash violently at Sara. She was quick to defend herself and sank her swords through it like butter, but it did not stop its assault. The tentacle-like limb struck her in her stomach and sent her flying upwards into the air to prevent her from regaining momentum.

As soon as it no longer touched her, the new limb fell powerlessly to the ground and began to wither like the rest of the main body as Iris reclaimed what mana she could with her Biological Decay. Through the ashlike rain of flakey skin and scales, Iris appeared out of her previous body, leaping for her opponent from its rapidly decaying skeletal structure. She was already coated from head to toe in reinforced scales, and pushing her Physiological Alteration to maximize her strength to mass ratio.

Just before Sara hit the ground and had a chance to dodge out of the way, Iris landed ahead of her and spun and intercepted her throat with her right hand. Air was pushed out through Sara’s mouth as Iris kept a tight grip and held her over the ground, but it wasn’t without its toll. Iris visibly heaved for breath as the seal inside her prevented her from extracting any more mana.

This was it. Any longer and she didn’t know if she could keep up with the Meister and Weapon anymore. As she glanced at the pool of acid blood they were standing in the middle of, a single thought passed through her head.

Lucky she’s a werewolf. This won’t take too long to recover from.
In the split second that passed, Iris’ scales retreated from her left hand as her eyes met with Sara’s, and she whispered her last words of warning. “Close your eyes.”

Her thumb and middle finger met each other. Snap.

For the briefest moment, the crowd could see a bright spark jump from Iris’ hand into the pool of blood, then they both disappeared in fire and smoke as a massive explosion shook the arena. Iris’ most recent spell: changing the chemical composition of her acid blood to yield high explosive force when introduced to fire.

Debris scattered throughout the arena and smoke obscured the entire battlefield, but inside that darkness one was left standing. Iris’ scales were singed and dented, but she refused to fall. Sara’s unconscious body was pressed hard against her chest in a protective hug that saved her from some of the initial blast. Scales fell from her head and revealed her face, unhurt but fatigued and sooted. She wasn’t sure where Midori had been blown to after Sara let go, but in this brief moment of privacy she let her proverbial mask fall, even if she didn’t know whether Sara could hear her or not. Perhaps, she even hoped she couldn’t.

“I’m glad I had the opportunity to fight someone so strong. I’m tired of having to do it, but you reminded me of how far I need to go to earn my freedom. Thank you, Sara.”

Burned and beaten, body well past its limit and her lungs no doubt still burning, Sara's limp body laid in Iris' arms, finally needing the rest it deserved. Indeed, she didn't hear. Iris' trickery with the limb to throw her up and finally blow her up had finally put the squirrely werewolf to sleep. Being asleep, she had no ears, no tail. It was as if she was just a human with some cosplay burnt off. The explosion had hurled Midori across the arena. Even as she laid unconscious, there was a hint of a satisfied smile on her face.

Riley meanwhile was nullifying the magical explosion near himself and Cyrus using the screwdriver attachment with Sideways. Cyrus kept his eyes and perception on Sara, evaluating in fractions of a second if this blast would have been lethal. If so, intervention would be necessary. Luckily, it wasn’t. Sara would survive and much to his delight, Midori would be thrown across the arena, skidding along the tiles.

”And that’s it, folks!” Cyrus announced to the arena. Riley meanwhile was clearing the remaining mana within the area, causing the cloud to die down, revealing medics checking out Sara–who somehow managed to get out with less damage to her than Gauss earlier. Werewolves physiology at its finest. That, and likely Midori helping until Iris blew him a hundred yards in the opposite direction.

”The winner of this match is Iris ba Sitheris, making the winner of this tournament the Mage Group!” he shouted, causing a good third of the arena to stand up in immediate applause with more soon following. Sara would be escorted out on a stretcher for assessment, likely still taken to the hospital after, but presently there didn’t appear to be the same urgency as was present just to fights ago.

Midori transformed back into his normal form, realizing whatever the hell Iris did there was sufficient to make even a transformed weapon sore. He intended to follow Sara to make sure she was okay, but medics insisted he be evaluated too, so off he went.

Following the applause, further shouting became clear. Plenty of witches from noble houses all took a moment shout for house Sitheris, and give Iris a bow once they procured just enough attention. A bow like this, to any house, was a notable sign of respect, and while it seemed out of place within such a tournament, it was a gesture only the upper houses of the Witch society would recognize. It was arguably worth more than even the loudest applause from the upper echelons of Witch society. It was enough, once Rand saw it on screen, to even make him proud.

also by request of Prizzy​

Prizzy Kriyze Merciless Medic