Ana scowled, snapping her fingers and opening her palm as fire appeared in her hand. "I've survived on my own this long, I think I can handle a monster." She muttered, letting the fireball grow larger by the second as Carson moved towards it. Although to be fair, she hadn't fought anything like that before. The body appeared to be surrounded by free floating limbs and a head that could swivel in either direction, making her feel a bit dizzy herself. She aimed the fireball, now the size of her head towards the chest of the heartless, and flicked it with her other hand. As the fireball smashed into its chest, sending it reeling back, she stepped forward, small fires starting in her palms as she advanced on the monster. Kala raised her eyebrow, then held out a hand to the kid. "Well, wanna come with me and do something exciting? More exciting then napping, anyway. I'm looking for someone, a special someone, and I need help. I don't think she's here, but she could be anywhere. I've gotta find her before the monsters do." She withdrew her hand, frowning slightly. "Although, I suppose it might be too scary for someone as young as you." Males, especially males the age this one appeared to be, were usually easily offended with ideas of age and manliness. If she could convince him to come with her, maybe she could find her sister that much sooner. Or a clue as to where she went, anyhow.
Welcome to the Masquerade~
The assignment will have company in the abyss of lost homework.
Moving between two different states every couple of years keeps that from happening.
Veera cut away the shadow in her path before turning and air striking another who had tried to jump on her face. Aislin had made her way to Xara; good. She might do a better job protecting the kid then Veera could. Used to fighting on her own, Veera focused on her own battles, killing shadows in her wake. All she wanted was out of this cursed place. BP Heartless kill count: Shadows: 21 Dark Balls: 3 Shadows injured: Shadow 1; I BP left Total Experience Gained Veera: 165 EXP (12 Shadows, 1 Dark Ball) Xara: 60 EXP (6 Shadows) Aislinn: 130 EXP (2 Dark Ball, 4 Shadows)
Veera glanced at Vyle, hardly daring to take her eyes away from the enemies at her side. "You know him?" She asked above the din of battle, refraining from commenting that Vyle seemed to have too many hands. "We need to go back for the people in the room." She continued, hacking down a doppler who tried to use the moment to shave off several layers of muscle from her arm. At this point, she didn't see how they were going to get out, let alone rescue three others who were more then likely dead or fighting for their life right now. Wait...."If you're here, and Derrick's here then..." She turned and screamed at Derrick and Vyle. "Who the hell did you leave guarding the half dead woman and the doppler kid?! The mage with the damned shackles on?!" Ana coughed the dust from the bomb out of her lungs as she stumbled forward, desperate to save Zephyr. She tried to reach out with her magic, but the dimeritium was still thick in the air. Ana yelled his name as she tried to make it towards him in time, only to have something clink against her feet. Squinting through the dust, she noticed the shackes that she had taken off the other mage just seconds ago. Grabbing them, she cried out as the metal burned her already damaged hands before throwing them at Willow. It would likely do little more then hit the assailant on the head, but she hoped the distraction would be enough to take her focus off the kid. "Leave him alone!" She said, taking a wobbly step forward. "He's just a-" She fell to her knees, trying to catch her breath. Just a kid. Tessa nuzzled Seth's hand before he left, her cheek feeling cold and bereft of his touch. She watched him go through heavy lids before turning on her uninjured side, resting her face against the pillow as she curled into a ball under the sheets. "When do I get to take care of you?" she whispered to the soft cloth, before her eyes unwillingly shut, and she drifted off into a restless sleep. The undead parted before him in waves, as though he was the messiah, and they were his flock. Indeed, he found the three witchers, identifiable by their yellow eyes, surrounded by more of the undead. How the zombies knew he wasn't a danger, how they knew he was on their side, he had no idea. Rael had disappeared. Unable to convince Fiel to do the same, he had left her, sick of violence and gore. Bryce hadn't acknowledged his absence in the least; if Rael was a weakling, then they were better off without him. "Are you so mighty now?!" He yelled at the witchers, noticing they had another with them, an unknown. At the moment, he didn't much care. They would all die, if he had to do the deed himself. At his words, everything seemed to still, and look towards him. He felt like a God. "Where's your skill and your swords and magic now!?" Bryce cried, holding up the burden he had carried from the outskirts and into the streets, from the streets into this particular square. "He died on his knees like the criminal he was, and so shall you!" Bryce's hand was clenched around the silver hair that framed the face, using it as a hold to hoist up the decapitated head of what used to be Aaron the witcher, his eyes still set in an expression of defiance. Veera turned to stare at the figure, and her words died in her throat. No...The man's arm lifted up as his voice boomed across the square. Veera ceased to be aware of anything, or anyone, except the cold feeling in her chest. No no no....The silver hair, the eyes, the face not yet scarred by time...nononononononono. Aaron stared at her, but it was not Aaron. It was a shell of the young witcher, his physical flesh without the soul that made him himself. Derrick said we came here together. A memory of Aaron first coming to the Kaer flashed through her mind. He said we came for a job. Aaron practicing in the sparring field with her. But I would never have left him behind. Aaron trying not to smile. I would never have let him follow me to this. Aaron constantly losing his shirt. And then her mind went blank. The scream that tore from her throat was inhuman as she lunged forward, ignoring all injuries and enemies. If she died, then she went to hell, but she would take this bastard with her if it was the last thing she did. She might have let A-the kid die alone, but she would not let him wander the afterlife alone as well.
Kara struggled, but the web held her fast. Grimacing in disgust, (What was her luck with these things, seriously?), she stuck her blades in the ground and pressed her hands together, forcing herself to focus. The air around her began to charge, and her eyes, when they opened, focused on the spider. I will prove myself. Not just to you. She forced the energy outward with her hands, the charge following the line of her fingers as they pointed towards the spider she had previously attacked. She hoped the spell would have enough charge to take out the hatching that had just been summoned, but if it didn't, well, then she knew her next victim. Kara used Arcane Bolt: 5 AP Tessa frowned. Rayyad was right, it was convenient, but Conrad offering to hold the gate open seemed silly to her. What man could win a battle against stone? "Let's look around and see what we can find, first." She murmured, passing by both males to start looking around the room. A mongoose rat wouldn't make it easy for a snake to find her babies, after all. She had no doubt that as humans were both crueler and more intelligent then animals, that they would find a better way to trap anyone they didn't want disturbing their precious items. She dropped Rayyad's hand, stepping towards one of the further corners in the room to see if anything was hidden. These guys would be so lost without me. She thought to herself with a small smile. Bryce tried to stave off the wicked shadow man as he slowly corrupted each perfect fruit with his touch. "YOU FIEND!" Bryce screamed, leaping towards the man. A sound in his ear stopped him. ".....dragon." Someone was here! He stared up at the sky, wondering if the Citrus Gods were going to make their presence and cut down this blasphemer where he stood. "....dragon...." Bryce started jumping up and down, trying to fly up towards the voice. "GIVE IT TO ME!" Bryce tried to jump up, but his injury prevented him from doing so. Instead, he could only loll about in the odd wheel machine, staring back at Sanderson's face, which, while somehow comforting, was not the face of the dragon fruit gods. He glanced over, and saw Iris walking beside him. No Citrus god there either. But then Bryce made the mistake of looking to his left. There, close enough he could feel the man's breath on his skin, stood the most wrinkled human being he had ever seen. Bryce screamed and tumbled out of the wheelbarrow, falling to his knees in front of the Wrinkled One. "Citrus God, I am your most humble servant!" Bryce mumbled, his face in the dirt. He pretended it was because he wanted to be there, not because he couldn't move. "Please, take me under your wing. Teach me all you know. Show me the way." How could Sanderson and Iris walk in the presence of a god, and not know it?! He stayed prostrate before Aedan, once again, because he totally wanted to.
"It wasn't my fault the Mortal Cup was stolen. It was my fault you were injured." She smiled in a slanted manner towards Hendrik, reaching to pat his shoulder, but hesitating, before smoothing the sheets for him and walking out. He needed rest, and she needed to contact the Clave. Fortunately Hendrik should be up within the next day or two, though she had no doubt he wouldn't spend the day in bed as he was told to do. She hardly felt comfortable telling him what to do, when he was nearly twice her age. Or at least she thought he was. The line between mentor and comrade blurred thin here, despite her best efforts to separate the two. She walked past the makeshift bedroom they were sharing, pausing to see if anyone yet remained. Both Nick and Roxanne were gone, and Brianne had to fight down momentary panic that something had happened to them. She went on, heading for the library, when she heard a rhythmic thunking. Poking her head in the training room, she spotted Roxanne, whittling away one of their training dummies to bits. Rather then interrupt the girl, Brianne drew her stele, and silently crept up behind her. The next time Roxanne made to strike the dummy, or rather what was left of it, Brianne leaped in front and crossed blades with the girl. "Practice with me." She said simply, keeping her arm raised. "It's much better to spar with a partner then alone." Talking to the Clave could wait a little longer. Besides, she wasn't ready to hear more bad news. Morrigan stared at Ash, then her shoulders slumped. She grabbed the vial with twitching fingers and downed it, her face stone as she let the vial clatter to the counter, and dropped her head. She knew Ash was right, knew it, but she just felt defeated. As if she had just given up something important, something vital to herself. In her head she could hear the door of the cage swinging shut, and her eyes stung for a second with unshed tears. "The world does not care about one more dead fairy." Morrigan felt the need to correct Ash. But for some reason, you do. Probably that favor he somehow wanted to call in with her. She stared down at her hands, which lay in her lap. The veins darkened and then receded under her skin as the medicine took effect. "What now?" She asked dully, refusing to remove her gaze from her stilled fingers. No doubt her mother and father were concerned about her disappearance, as well as her husband to be. Let them. Let them worry. She cared not for their suffering. How could she when she was so fixated on her own? Alarick glanced at Nick, his lips twitching; the only signal he ever gave to show he was considering smiling. "I do believe I am, yes. Unless there is another building glamoured to look like an ancient house of worship, then I must have the wrong place. If so, please be kind enough to tell me which route I may take to find the current Institute. He stood up straight now, all joking aside. "I'm looking for my sister, Brianne Lightwood. Last I heard, which was thirty minutes ago, she was still Head of the Institute. No wonder she never complained about the job. After all, it'd be a shame to let something so artistic to go to waste in the hands of the inexperienced." He looked Nick over once again, a thorough look this time, before turning his gaze to the building. "It really is beautiful." He murmured, pulling on the mental cloak of authority that never seemed far away. "I would greatly appreciate if you could take me to my little sister." He spoke quietly once more, but his voice emanated confidence and strength. It was the same way he talked to the Clave, when necessary. "We have much to catch up on." He kept the bundle held loosely at his side. He had confidence that should any of the Shadowhunters here turn traitor and try to foolishly take it from him, he would be able to incapacitate them long before they did the same to him.
Kara darted forward, raising her blades and attacking the spider on Laurentinus' left, slashing at the enemy as Ren worked on the one on the right. Better to take out the distracted enemy then the one who's trying to eat your bo-friend. She corrected herself mid-thought as she cast her escape spell and teleported away from the spider to a safe distance, from which she could move in to strike again. Assuming said friend can handle himself. And I'll show you I'm not just another damsel in distress. She didn't say the thought out loud, avoiding distracting the warrior, but it filled her with determination. Kara's Dance: Move to Spider: 3 AP Shortsword Strike: 4 AP Consecutive Strike: 3 AP Blink: 1 AP Total AP: 11 AP Bryce was in heaven. No, he was in bliss. No wait....Nirvana. Nirvana was a good place, right? Or maybe that was hell. Well he didn't want to be in hell. As he tried to decide exactly where he was, he took another happy bite from the dragon fruit, closing his eyes as he chewed. It was so nice to be in a place where they had culture. Where they knew what life was really about. "And it's all about you." He whispered to the half eaten fruit, rubbing its spiny outer shell against his face before taking another bite. Suddenly, someone clambered onto the boat. Bryce didn't get up, but he narrowed his eyes. After having spent a whole two days searching for the magical fruit, he would be damned if he would share it with anyone. Well, he would share it with his mother. And maybe a pretty girl, if she promised to name each one before she ate it. "This is mine." He growled, gathering as many of the fruits in his arms as he could, the oval shaped items rolling over his arms and down his stomach and legs, nearly burying him. "Go find your own ship." In the living world, Bryce was starting to scowl.
Veera smiled in quiet relief as Veceslav took out the archer, but the act was short lived as the three witchers began to slowly become overwhelmed. They had to get out, and now. They couldn't keep this up, not when there were so many of the enemy and so few of them. When Derrick was injured, she cast a Quen spell over him, barely finishing in time to block the pike spear that had been aimed for her belly. Sweat coated her forehead, forcing her hair to stick to her skin. The blood of her enemies mixed with the perspiration, and she didn't even want to imagine what she looked like. Her shoulder still throbbed as it tried to heal, the rest of the arrow embedded in her skin. "Let's go NOW!" she yelled, slamming her head down as she performed Aard once more, clearing the enemies from her Derrick's front for a moment. "Vec!" She parried a blow from a sword with her iron blade and impaled the attacker with her silver one as she backed up into the alley, making sure Derrick was covered on his injured side while getting her mentor's attention to follow them. "We've got to get the hell out of here." She told him, her arms shaking with weariness. Even a witcher couldn't go on forever. But at this point, she didn't even see how escape was possible. Ana waited to see if her attack by lockpick to Willow's leg and Zephyr's attack by shoulder shove worked on Willow. Overhead, the sounds of battle had managed to seep through the stone streets and echo over the sewers. Every once in a while the group he was leading would freeze, stopped by a scream or the sounds of the dying. Every time, Zack would urge them onward. With every step, the guilt at leaving those behind ate at him, but he tried to combat it with the redemption of saving those of his people that he could. Perhaps this could make up for all the bad that had been done, and was being done. "It's only a little longer." He whispered loudly. Luckily for him, the drowners were busy with the bodies that floated on the river, and had evacuated the sewers in lieu of the battle. The tunnel he had used would take them out closer to the farms of Oxenfurt, which should still be safe. They would remain there until the battle was over, and then....Zack had no idea. Where could you go when your home was burning and the world hated you? Bryce strolled through the streets quickly. His birds hadn't reported to him in a while, which was a shame. He wondered vaguely if they had given up or been killed, unaware that one had spread the word amongst the others of the evacuating dopplers; most of them had gone to join Zack. He didn't think this far ahead, because it didn't honestly matter to him what Zack did, or the birds, or really the army of dopplers. He could care less about any of them, because they were only as minuscule addition to his power, and his power was all that mattered. Rael and Fiel kept the peasants off of him, of which, to be honest it seemed like there were few left. If they had been smart, they would have left. He thought with a shrug, making his way towards the sounds of clashing swords and the screams of the wounded and dying. The witchers would likely be occupied, what with the current army that was after their heads, but he would make his presence known. And the dopplers would cheer his name like he was a god. Tessa was comfortable, resting her head against Seth's chest as he carried her. To be honest, she hadn't woken up until after they had started walking, but it seemed as soon as the thought crossed her mind to walk on her own two feet, she passed out again. The silver. She reminded herself, keeping her eyes shut this time as Seth walked towards an unknown destination. My body's fighting the reaction to the silver. She didn't even want to look at her injury. At Seth's words, she tiredly raised her head, managing a small smile before putting it back down again. "I hope this is a safe place." She whispered, fighting the hazy black that tried to ensnare her mind again. "I hope we're safe here."
Brianne pushed herself upright, relief evident until she schooled her features into something more solemn. "We're okay, here. You seem to have gotten the worst of it." She sighed as she responded to Hendrik, running her fingers through her hair as she leaned back in the aluminum chair. "Someone, a Downworlder or someone siding with a Downworlder has taken the Mortal Cup from Alicante. We're supposed to be receiving more personnel and orders within the next few hours. What little word I have received from other Institutes is...grim." They had gotten lucky, getting back to the Institute as quickly as they could. Others had lost countless Shadow hunters to the uprising Downworlders; the dead were still being counted. As New York had not been high on the priority list for demon hunting, they had not been as fully staffed as some of the others. Brianne supposed she could thank the Angel that she didn't have to worry about massive demon portals at the same time as everything else. "The Silent Brother said you should make a full recovery in a few days. I managed to talk him into putting an accelerant on your healing, because of the circumstances." She got to her feet, genuinely tired. Her back ached, her legs ached, but most of all her head ached, and she just wanted to drop into a bed somewhere and not wake up until this mess was sorted. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you in time." She murmured. As the Head of the Institute, all Shadowhunters stationed in New York fell under her care. To have failed one of them was a heavy blow, especially since Hendrik was the closest thing she had to a mentor. Morrigan stared at Ash, each word dropping like a stone into her heart, weighing her down. She couldn't drag her eyes from vial that he held up. It was hard to believe that the tiny amount of liquid kept inside was all that separated her from life and death. "How soon will I need another?" She whispered, her breath hitching. All her life, she had been free within the constraints of the cage, albeit the large cage, her family had let her roam. Now....she was tied to a tiny little glass. She took the vial, the smooth glass sliding between her fingers as she held it up for further examination. It looked like pond water, and she wished she could believe it was so, simply flinging it against the wall and walking straight out that door. She could do it too. Nothing was stopping her. Idiot. You're smarter then that. Five hundred years haven't taught you nothing. She wished against everything she knew that it had. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she gripped the nearest surface, a counter. No doubt her body was trying to fight off the foreign substances in her body, and losing. Was this to be her life? Going from vial to vial like a drug addict, dependent on a strange warlock for the promise of life as her body slowly decayed? That wasn't what she wanted. She would rather live an hour of freedom, then five hundred more years in another gilded cage. "You can have it back. I don't want it." She said, opening her hand and letting the vial drop onto the counter with a clatter. The next wave forced her to sit where she could; the wooden floor. She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to remain conscious by sheer will alone. "I don't want another cage."
Veera gladly supported Requiem, though her eyes narrowed at the mention of the Shards of Hope. Maybe it wasn't such a bright idea to let them go after all. She glared at the Andaran Prince, cursing her own bad luck. If things had worked out just a little differently, they could have captured turn coats and brought them in for questioning and perhaps conditioning. She wouldn't mind having the strange girl on her side, rather then on the other. In the right hands, that girl would be a powerful asset. "What do you think, Requiem?" She asked quietly, one hand gripping the sword that dug into the sand for support. It was his injuries that would keep her from going after the creature. She would not risk losing a packmate for the sake of the prey she wanted to hunt. Alpha was another matter, but Alpha was asleep for now. Veera would repay Requiem for the harm that had come to it for helping her. The strange, soothing voice in her head was gone, replaced by the brutal sounds of the real world. People arguing. She was still so cold. How am I cold out here? She wondered, slowly blinking her eyes open. She wasn't lying on the sand anymore, but held in the arms of her mechanical savior, Timothy. Wait, what did he save me from? She thought back to the tower, yeah, that had been once. Then when people started killing each other right on top of them, okay, that had been two. And then another time from the strange wolf woman. But hadn't there been a fourth?....She yawned and snuggled deeper into the cloth that wrapped around her, before-Oh. She blushed, and wrapped the cloth tighter around herself, not an easy feat in the arms of a robot. So that's why I'm cold. "Are you cold?" she asked Timothy sleepily, completely oblivious to anything outside of her world, which right now consisted of herself and her robot friend. "Because I haven't felt cold until.." she was interrupted by a jaw cracking yawn, "until now, and I'm not wearing anything, but you're not wearing anything either."
His attempt to win was amusing, really. The witcher attached him, eyes filled with anger. Bryce simply let him come towards him, parrying the blow and grabbing Aaron's wrist, yanking him forward. "See kid, you shouldn't have left that witcher bitch's side." he whispered in Aaron's ear, grip tightening. "Pups shouldn't take on wolves." That was when Rael shoved his sword through Aaron's leg, causing the witcher to stumble and fall. Bryce let go of him, watching him with idle interest, even as the triumph bubbled inside of him. "What's wrong, little pup? Something got your tongue?" As he spoke, Fiel aimed her bow and shot, the shaft piercing Aaron's side. "Well, that was a little unnecessary, wasn't it?" Bryce circled around the wounded witcher. "But see, Fiel is a little upset. You murdered her little brother, you know. Yes....Fiel's quite upset." Another arrow loosed, this one piercing his bicep. Bryce whistled. "She's got lovely aim, doesn't she?" Spoiler: Game of Thronesesque Death Scene, Proceed with Caution Without waiting for a response, Bryce strode forward, his back turned to Aaron. As he stared at the rising sun, Rael put his sword to Aaron's throat, staining the witcher's skin with his own blood. "I had considered bringing your sister here. I wanted her to watch, after all. To help Fiel get her revenge. But she's...well." Bryce turned, his smile sinister. "She's rather occupied with the mage that found her first. Lucky man. Perhaps I'll bring her your head, if she's not too exhausted, that is. I've heard wonderful stories about mages and their....endurance." Bryce stepped forward once more, his sword going to Aaron's throat. "Heads are more transportable then regular bodies, after all." He quipped, and drew his sword back. With a single blow, he beheaded the witcher. The body wavered for a moment before crashing to the ground, the head rolling alongside it. Bryce wiped his sword clean on the witcher's clothing, indicating that Rael should do the same as Fiel came forward, planting another arrow in Aaron's back for good measure before grabbing his head by the hair and pulling it up, staring into the dead eyes with satisfaction. "Let's take this to the witchers." Bryce told her with a smile, winking before turning back towards Oxenfurt, leaving the rest of Aaron lying in the dust.
Kara shrieked as the spider fell off of her and scuttled away, brushing her shoulder off to make sure it hadn't left anything behind. She smiled a little at Laurentinus' chivalry, unexpected as it was. "Sorry, Hawkie, but I can't let you do that." she danced behind him, planting a kiss on his cheek airily before circling around the spiders, planning to form a pincer attack and come at them from two sides. Tessa smiled as Rayyad removed his mask, peeking at him. He couldn't be much younger then herself. What a strange coincidence, that they were similar ages and came from similar walks of life. Not that she was long lost royalty trapped in a domain she didn't want, but still. She took Rayyad's hand, hoping to transfer courage from herself to him. "Much better." She assured him. "It'll be okay. They come from a lot of different places and they're...very different," She muttered, thinking of Kara, "But most of them are nice. And Conrad and I will protect you." She looked back at her male companion. "Right, Conrad?"
That sounds scary, but I'm glad you're doing alright. I've thought about RPing elsewhere but again. Scary new people. Drop me a line sometime,...
Character name: Alarick Lightwood Age: 24 and one minute. Gender: Male Race: Nephilim Appearance: ~ Backstory: Alarick is the older, (and much more talented) sibling to Brianne. As the chosen heir for the Lightwood family, he's been alongside his sister to become one of the most successful warriors the Nephilim have ever seen. His prowess has earned him a seat on the Conclave at a fairly young age, a feat exceptional in and of itself. He is also one of the few who truly strives for peace between the Downworlders and Nephilim, despite his outward appearance. Alarick is hardly allowed to leave Alicante now, his parents setting him up with proper matches to marry and further the bloodline. He jumped at the chance to help the Old Man in his endeavors and has since served as a secret emissary between him and the Downworlders. Weapons: A stele as his primary, and a bo staff with twin blades as his secondary. The twin blades are spring released and retracted by a button on his bo staff. Magic: N/A Other: He's pretty great.
In Alicante, the city was in chaos. Extra wards had been thrown up and warriors prowled the streets, searching for any sign of a stranger or forced entrance. The problem was, and the Clave was afraid to acknowledge what was already supposed, was that the wards couldn't have been brought down by just anyone. No, they were specifically magicked to only allow those with the blood of the Nephilim to pass. The old, bearded man stared at the glass floor in the center of the tower. There was a platform, made completely of marble, upon which had sat the Mortal Cup. It was now empty, the chalice of the angels gone, and he sighed. Just when he thought he could retire, everything had to get stirred up again. Turning, he used his knotted cane to help himself out the door, to where the rest of the Clave was arguing. Amongst its members was older brother to Brianne Lightwood. Familiar dark eyes found his, and flicked away. The old man frowned. They had never seen eye to eye, but now was not the time for discord. "We should call all Nephilim back immediately. Reports from China-" "But that completely obscures the point of the Accords! If we only-" The old man held up his hand, and the room fell silent after a few more bickering voices made their thoughts sound. He glared at them from underneath bushy eyebrows, before speaking. "The Nephilim are to retreat to their respective Institutes, if they have not had the common sense to do so. They will remain there, in order to uphold the Accords and our appearances. We are Shadowhunters, we do not fear the dark or the void." His voice, though soft, manage to ring through the glass walls., reaching those that waited outside. "We will launch an investigation in the appropriate manner. The Inquisitor will be called, and will do as they must. We will also contact the Silent Brothers, and the respective diplomats of each Downworlder tribe. We will restore order, and we will retrieve the Mortal Cup. In the meantime, I am sending the Sword of Raziel somewhere safe. Somewhere none of you shall know." There were moderate protests to this, but he held up his hand. "It appears the Instruments are no longer safe in our own city. This is the best course of action to keep the trespasser from succeeding one last time. For if they receive the Cup and the Sword, and manage to find the Mirror....Raziel help us all." "Raziel help us all." The murmur echoed as he turned and walked back into the room, an adjourning one this time. Alarick Lightwood followed him up the stairs, brow furrowed. "Are you ready?" The old man asked, walking very quickly in spite of his old appearance. Alarick sighed, but nodded. "I guess I get to pay my little sister a visit." "That you do. Give her my regards." The younger man turned to go, a clothed bundle in his arms. "And Alarick." He turned. "Don't trust a soul." Brianne rested her elbows on the bed, her hands rubbing her face. It had been mere hours since the Silent Brother had arrived, his hooded face dark and foreboding. He had "said" little to Brianne herself, only asking her politely to show him where his patient was. It had taken him two hours and fourteen minutes to work on Hendrik; Brianne had counted. Afterwards, he had departed just as quickly, offering an apology but little explanation. Brianne couldn't bring herself to care. In just mere hours, the weight of the world had come crashing down on her shoulders. She had gone to let Roxanne and Nick out of the library after the Silent Brother had arrived, and escorted them both to the large bunk room. Whatever it had been built for in the past, she had no idea, but in the time of emergency she had them help drag mattresses and blankets in, while fortifying the windows. Should anything break the glamour, they would be ready to hold off the enemies in the converted sleeping room. She had left them both there afterwards, telling them to remain close to this room or the infirmary while she attended to Hendrik, who's side she hadn't left. He's the only one to get any sleep. She mused, peeking over her fingers for a moment to examine the sleeping Shadowhunter before returning her gaze to the insides of her palms. She was supposed to contact the Clave within the next two hours, regarding what her new orders would be. It would be unthinkable for them to withdraw to Alicante, but not without precedence. What else could they say but stay or come back? She anxious for the answer. Brianne could take care of herself, but she had already failed her mentor....what if she failed her charges next? Morrigan opened her eyes slowly, and with great effort. Everything was too bright, and too foreign. She remained where she was for a few more minutes before slowly pushing herself up to her elbows. The sheets and coverlet she rested in were white, starched neatly. She frowned, running her fingers over the crisp sheets, before sitting up. There was a painting in the corner, covered with a white cloth, but for that and the bed, the room was bare of any furnishings. Another frown, another attempt to get to her feet. She herself was wearing different clothing, some sort of silk nightdress. Pressing a hand to her side, she grimaced as a slight pang of pain ran through her. So it seemed the poison was not all gone then. For a moment, her veins darkened under her porcelain skin, and then faded. She lifted the corner of the cloth on the painting before she departed the room, seeing nothing else of curiosity. The artistry was that of a beautiful woman, one who didn't look much older then herself. Then again, she didn't look exactly like her age. Walking cautiously out of the room, she stopped in the hallway, her feet cold on the bare floor. She didn't recognize any part of this house, but regarding her memories, she knew where she could be. Obviously Masque hadn't gotten to finish her off, or she doubted she would be waking up, and the pain told her that this wasn't a dream. She opened a second door, and discovered a bathroom. The mirror showed a pale and thin female, with shadows underneath her eyes, and hair that tangled itself all the way down her back. She didn't bother trying to fix her appearance, but carried onwards, shutting the door behind her. It wasn't until she found her way down the stairs, taking them slowly and one at a time, that she stumbled upon the person she had least expected to find. She stared at Ash, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Why?" She asked, her hands clenching at her sides. She remained silent as she tried to get a tether on her emotions, but this was too much. "Why did you take off my clothes?" Alarick arrived in the city just as the sun was rising. He glanced back as the portal closed, the always present frown on his face. "That's my least favorite transportation method." He announced to no one in particular. "Horses are much more...sophisticated." Never the less, he straightened his clothes, made sure the bundle was secure under his arm, and cast a glamour over himself. This one was more powerful then any other, taught to him by the old man himself. Anyone other then his own family would not be able to see him, which suited his needs just fine. There was only one family member he needed to see. He made his way to the Institute quickly, moving with purpose. The old church loomed ahead, and he sighed. Brianne was still using mediocre glamours to hide her living space. Some things never changed. He passed through with ease and entered the old building, his footsteps clacking on the marble floor. He made no noise, simply staring up at the architecture until he decided it was time to go look for his wayward sister. You would never know we're identical. He decided with a sigh. She didn't even have a guard posted at the front door. He removed the glamour and leaned against the wall, hands crossed across his chest.
Kala blinked back tears of happiness and kissed Galadorn's cheek, wrapping her arms tightly around him. "Just don't tell anyone." She whispered. "They can't know." She felt so relieved, so uplifted that Galadorn had seen what she was, and he didn't shy away. Instead, he quite literally embraced her, accepting who she was. No one had done that before. She had been a weapon, a hindrance, a murderer, and a monster. But she had never been a girl. The events of the day began to catch up with Kala as she hugged her centaur friend, and she blinked rapidly, stifling a yawn. It didn't help her body demanded sleep to finish converting the strange life energy into her own. "Galadorn...let's sleep." she murmured, releasing her hold only to curl up on one corner of the bed, her arms held to her chest as her knees curled inward. "Just make sure you don't touch me." She whispered, her eyes slowly shutting until they refused to open anymore as she fell asleep. She couldn't remember the last time she had fallen asleep this quickly. It must be because she wasn't al-
He was insane. Completely gone. And yet underneath it, she could see pain, and loss. But she could do nothing to help him, and pulled out both her swords as the undead circled in on them. "Derrick, Vec, I'm so sorry." She said, her eyes flashing from one enemy to the next. More blue orbs then she could count were staring back, and she felt her fingers tighten on her pommels, holding them in front of her. "If this is where this ends, then..." She paused, glancing back at the two men who had been the biggest parts of her life. "Never mind." She muttered to herself, and used the handsign for Aard, blasting back those in front of her before cutting to the side. In her mind, the best way out of this was to find an alleyway where they could cover their backs and defend their front. The archer on the rooftop decided to try his luck again, and she dodged to the side, the arrow slicing open some of her cheek as she cut out another undead, snarling. Besides, what did confessions at the end of the line do? They were nothing but wasted words and regrets, and Veera of Velen did not have many regrets. Or so she told herself. If it was reciprocated, I would know. She told herself as she ducked another arrow and shoved her iron blade through one of the undead, using the silver to cut its throat. Having never fought an undead, she wasn't sure whether the iron or the silver was working, but somehow, it was, and that's all she needed. "Could someone take out that blasted archer?" She yelled, the next bolt glancing off her sword, the ringing making her head ache. Please, not another one. She prayed to the gods, hoping to staff off another attack. Please just let me get through this. Teliana grimaced. "Too much experience, I'm afraid." She struggled with them a little more, her fingers unwilling to do her bidding. "I've only lived a fraction of a mage's life time, and yet it seems in the span of those years I've been trying to avoid death more then I have tried to live. Ironic, isn't it?" She bit her lip, cursing as the lockpick slipped in her grasp again. "People are all too willing to remove that which they don't understand, in order to sleep better themselves. It's the curse of magic, to be forever powerful, and forever alone." There was a click, and she smiled with satisfaction as the handcuffs slipped off, revealing the dimeritium burns on Zephyr's skin. "Those go away after a few hours. Just a reaction of our magic trying to resist the metal." She told him, tossing the cursed things to the ground. She let her hands rest in her lap to hide them from shaking as she glance at the window. "Is it just me, or have the screams gotten louder?" She murmured, her stomach tightening. That was when the room exploded into shards of glass. Or what appeared to be glass. In reality they were shards of dimeritium. Ana shoved Zephyr away from her and to the ground to protect him, just as she felt something cold press against her throat. "For Bryce...." Teliana tried to reach for the spark that was her magic, but the bomb had erased any form of it. She still held the lockpick in her fingers, and used it to try to stab the figure behind her. "For me." She whispered. Unluckily for Seth, and Tessa herself, she had heard some of what he had done. And she didn't like it at all. She wanted to ask him how he could have done that to someone; what made him give in to such a brutal instinct? Would he eventually turn on her in the same way? The same way that Bryce had? She felt the glimmer of tears in her eyes, not for Seth's nameless victim, but for herself. For once, just for once she wanted to be selfish, and say screw the world. Screw its rules and its laws because despite his wrongs, he had done so many rights, and she just wanted him by her side. She cared deeply for Seth, hell, she might even l- Tessa shut her eyes against the spinning that suddenly occured, before laying her head on the table. Just to wait it out, she told herself. That was before she blacked out, head resting on her arm, both of which were crossed on the table. Bryce let the Aard affect him, and in falling back into the dirt, rolled backwards. At the same time, Fiel shot her bow again, another arrow knocked to the string in a single breath, while Rael advanced, his eyes on the witcher. Bryce had never said he would fight fair, would he? After all, he intended to survive this, and while he had defeated a witcher in single combat, that had been a different time; a different man. "I don't think you're going to have a good day." He quipped, getting to his feet and blocking Aaron's sword before returning the blow with one of his own. Zack managed to find a couple healing poultices, and some strangely colored bottles that smelled alright. Now he waited in the courtyard, as one by one, citizens of Sanctuary trickled in. By the time the two girls returned, there were about thirty in all, ranging from old men and women to teenagers, to one or two adults that hadn't wanted to abandon their families. "Alright, if that's everyone, then let's go." He motioned for them to follow him, heading for Bryce's office. That would lead to the tunnels that could get them out of the city. His thoughts flitted briefly to Ana and Zephyr, but with a mantle of guilt settling around his shoulders, he realized he'd have to let them go. These people were his responsibility, and he hoped the gods would have sense to watch over them all, but he couldn't risk going through Oxenfurt again for only two people weighed against the lives of thirty.
Veera shrugged. "I dunno. Got any ideas?" One was that she take another job, but that was kind of moot at this point. She could steal a ship and explore the sea, but that didn't seem feasible with only one person, two if her persuasive skills worked on the kid. "Sorry if walking's not your style, but I'm not near wealthy enough to be able to afford a horse of any kind, and a map is an entirely other matter. However...." She eyed Veilen. "If you wouldn't mind giving the shopkeeper something to look at while I peruse his wares, I would be glad to let you accompany me." Kara blinked, looking around their surroundings. "Haven't a clue." She replied, squinting in the sunlight. "Just glad to be outside of those caves, if I'm being honest." She sighed, and propped one hand on her hip, the other gripping her war axe as it rested in the dirt. "I could use some decent food and a nap though. And maybe a lot of alcohol." She wasn't sure what they had been kidnapped for, but since they were the only two standing here, she doubted the survival rate was high. "Alright, you pick. Left or right?" She turned to Runa, waiting for an answer.
