Fantasy Cradle of Desire: In Character

[fluticasone]

fluticasone fluticasone

dusk

name

titania iseult

location

dungeon w/ group 1

interactions

vanitas ( lucenti ) carnelian ( 606 ) cyril ( Nano )

His face — remember it!

Pale green eyes flicked between Cyril and the dying guard. Capturing him alive was their best option. She doubted it would be possible, which left only getting rid of him.

To rid themselves of the threat, she had to assess it. Powers - what did she know? He had some form of range that had gotten through Carnelian's barrier. A sword hung at his hip. He'd confidently walked into a group of them, so he either had back-up, a plan... or he thought he could handle them himself when their strongest fighters were distracted with the monster.

“Is that a relic of yours? If so, I shall gladly return the favor.” A relic? What relic—that didn't matter. The only people around her who could have one were Vanitas and Carnelian, and she doubted the new third faction member could be levelheaded enough to use a relic in such a situation.

Three things headed towards them; in the dim light, they were barely visible. But after watching her own projectiles fly past, the man's own relic was nothing. There was a lightness in her body that made her confident she could dodge out of the way in time.

"Carnelian — ignore the serpent and focus on him!"

With little hesitation, Dusk threw her bow in front as her mind raced.

Think. THINK.

Though it was better suited for throwing than being thrown, she wasn't aiming to hit him with it. The bow was useless in these close quarters—it was a distraction to force his path.

As she dove down to avoid the daggers, Dusk picked up anything she could use as a projectile. Her fingers closed over a rock, around the size of a fist.

Head? No—center of mass!

The rock flew; it accelerated at a speed that would've sent wood splintering apart. The daggers earlier were a snail's pace compared to it. She was aiming for his sword arm, but if she missed, it would at least hit his torso.

Cyril saw it coming—

damn it!

— but he was too close and the rock too fast for him to dodge out of the way. She unsheathed her stiletto, hesitant to throw another projectile when she could see Vanitas now moving in.

 

[Dawnsx]

Bippity boppity booo

Cyrus︱Arum

When Cyrus first learned about his stigma, he thought that fate was playing a joke on him. The ability to infiltrate another’s memories, to make them trust and love him unconditionally… He wasn't going to play humble; it was a fearsome power, and he knew it. But ironically, the stigma was useless on the one person that he wanted it to work on.

Be that as it may, his stigma had never failed to get him and his comrades out of a pinch, and this time would (hopefully) be no exception.

Cyrus sensed it the moment his stigma took over Valeria’s mind. Even so, he couldn’t help a flinch when the woman addressed him in a sharp tone.

“I, er– I was threatened!” Cyrus wailed in weak defense. Internally, he offered a silent prayer to any and all who had crossed Valeria’s path thus far. If this was how she spoke to someone near and dear to her, he couldn’t imagine how she treated other people.

With his mind racing to put on a convincing act, Cyrus nearly missed it when Défrayer pulled Meredith out of Valeria’s reach. Valeria reacted almost immediately, whirling around and sending thick vines after them.

With a shout of alarm, Cyrus pulled Stabby out of its sheath. The blade extended as he swung down at the vines. Regardless of whether he was able to successfully slash the vines, he would drop Stabby and throw himself at Valeria.

Grabbing hold of the arm that was holding the cane, Cyrus cried out, ”Please, ma’am! These– these fiends! Their men have my father! If you kill them, then my father will–”

He cut himself off with an ugly, wet sob. He clung onto Valeria with an iron grip and silently willed the others to escape before she could free herself.

Code by Nano

 

[lucenti]

Melios Ceriant | Vanitas

Focused on his target and the glimpses of the monster's thrashes hovering at the edge of his vision, the guard's guttural last word sounded like chimes of a soft handbell struggling against the sounds of ocean waves crashing against solid rock. Though Milene didn't evoke much of an association in Melios' mind, he had no doubt that someone in Arcana would know the meaning of the name. And even if they didn't, at least they had a keyword to start with. Silently, he thanked the man and whispered a small prayer for the unfortunate soul dying so far from anything remotely familiar or friendly. Unpleasant circumstances the man had stumbled into, where the luxuries of empathy and sympathy had no place.

Death was not uncommon for Melios, not since he joined, but it never became easier to witness, to actually inflict; only tolerable when the goal of their mission demanded it. A constant means to an end. A practice so often repeated that Melios had begun to wonder when exactly his hands had stopped trembling at the sight of blood and guts and instead turned into a firm grip.

Perhaps it was a simple case of adapting to the necessities of battle, the same instinct that had made Melios rush forward the moment Cyril moved and the barrier broke. The hiss of a projectile told Melios that he wasn't the only one using his ability, and the fact that it hit put to rest any concerns about Dusk's lack of accuracy. Of course, his Stigma didn't have much effect on the man —as if the immune monster wasn't the icing on the cake. The only positive thing Melios derived from the situation was Cyril's hint to possessing a relic and, at the same time, his admission that he was partially affected by his ability. Which also meant that the second part of his Stigma had a chance to activate.

Vermillion's buff was a welcome surprise as Melios swung his poleaxe upwards, aiming for the same side Dusk had hit. The metal blade sang in its arc, parting the air in a deadly motion. Immediately after, Melios transitioned fluidly into a forward step and a thrust aimed at Cyril's chest. The move carried the grace of something practised countless times, as evidenced by his loose but confident grip on the wooden handle, ensuring that all of his body's momentum was transferred into the blow. It helped that, with his improved strength, the poleaxe weighed no more than a feather.

Recognising the obvious advantage the range of his weapon gave him over his opponent's long sword, Melios would continue to try and keep Cyril at bay, constantly watching for any gaps in his defences. His nimble feet danced across the wet stone; never rooted to the ground in an attempt to avoid either Cyril's sword or relic at his throat.

During all of that, the mark of his activated Stigma continued to shine brightly on his left hand, and though it would be weak, Melios hoped the lethargy would build up enough to prove useful.

---

Interactions: cyril ( Nano )

Mentions: group 1

 

[Dovinique]

Yenoia Abillene | Amethyst

The scene was a tad complex, Samadhi grappled with a snarling, doglike creature, his muscles straining against its ferocious strength. Meanwhile, a woman in glasses appeared to "recognize" Arum with voice filled with rage as she accused him of treachery. Yenoia watched, her mind muddled with confusion, making her tilt her head as if she was trying to find an answer. The woman's accusations seemed baseless and Yenoia struggled to make sense of her words.

With a raised eyebrow, she fixed her gaze on Arum. "Do you know this lady?" But before his response could reach her ears, her attention was drawn to a soft glow emanating from his hand, "Are you..." Her question hung in the air, unfinished, as she was abruptly interrupted. A swift motion caught her eyes, a vein surged forward with surprising speed. Before she could react, Yenoia was struck with force, a loud thud echoing through the room as her body collided with the wall. A sharp crack reverberated as her head connected with the surface, eliciting a pained grunt as she slumped to the floor and her head landing with another heavy thud.

With a feeble push, Yenoia attempted to rise, a stinging pain resonating in her head as she struggled to her feet. Her body swayed and her vision blurred slightly. She shook her head quickly, hoping to dispel the headache, but it persisted. She then stretched her body cautiously, starting from her shoulders and working her way down to her feet, checking for any signs of serious injury. Pressing against her ribs and backbone, she ensured there were no broken bones. It seemed she had only sustained minor bruises from the impact. She was grateful she hadn't lost consciousness. As her focus returned, Yenoia held her left wrist in her right hand, mimicking the gesture of someone adjusting a watch. A warm sensation emanated from her right hand, and she concentrated, sending signals to her body to nullify the pain. Slowly, the ache dissipated, leaving her body as good as new, though she knew bruises might linger. If anyone else had been slammed as she had, Yenoia would be ready to help alleviate their pain as well.

Once Yenoia was finished, the warmth from her hand disappeared as her stigma deactivated. She then turned her attention to Defrayer, who was half-dragging Meredith but not close enough for her to reach. She tapped her foot impatiently, frustrated not only by the time it was taking to retrieve Meredith but also by her own helplessness to offer further assistance. It seemed that being a support meant a lot of waiting.

Not long after, a comical scene happened, once again courtesy of Arum. His theatrical intensity, exaggerated gestures, and heightened emotions worked wonders in dissipating the tension that clung to the air. If they weren’t in the midst of a life-and-death mission, Yenoia might have let out a chuckle at the melodrama Arum provided. Suddenly, everything clicked into place for her, it was Arum's stigma at work. Though she didn’t know the exact nature of his power, it seemed to alter relationships. Whether her guess was accurate or not, it was clear Valeria was affected.

Drawing upon her inner actress, Yenoia shouted, pointing dramatically at Arum, “Remember, your old man is in our hands!” Swiftly, Yenoia seized the opportunity provided before by Arum, who both successfully cut the vine and hold Valeria, and dashed to Meredith’s side. She dropped to her knees, bending over to assess Meredith’s condition. Grasping Meredith's hand, she pressed her fingers to her wrist to find a pulse. It was there, steady and reassuring for now. As she checked Meredith's pulse, Yenoia activated her stigma, easing Meredith’s pain. Knowing there was no time to tend to the wound properly, she pulled out a handmade herbal tonic she had prepared beforehand. Though it lacked any special healing properties, its soothing scent and the warm sensation it provided would help Meredith relax, perhaps even drift off to sleep if she was too tired. The aroma of the herbs filled the air as Yenoia brought the vial to Meredith’s lips, “There you go.”

After quick tending Meredith, Yenoia turned to Defrayer, who stood nearby, “Would you be strong enough to completely drag her out of here?” she asked, referring to Meredith. Then, she shifted her gaze to Samadhi, who was in the midst of delivering the final blow to the dog-like creature. “If Ematille approves, I would recommend bringing that back to our headquarters. I should be able to save it from death, and you would have something to poke around for your research.”

With her instructions given, Yenoia quickly rose from her position and made her way to the door, ready to depart if the group decided to leave. But what about Arum? She pondered briefly as she looked at him, who was clinging to Valeria as if they were inseparable lovers. She shrugged as she didn’t have a clear answer, she could only hope that he had something up his sleeve.

Interaction: Dawnsx (Arum), Cresion Breezes (Defrayer), ThatWhichShouldBe (Samadhi)
Mention: Ematille

 

[Zariel]

Gripping his blade tightly, Andrius evaded the creature's snapping jaws. Each near miss caused his heart to pound in his chest like a war drum, though the trepidation was not visible upon his poised visage.

In exasperation, the predatory beast recoiled. An eyebrow raised, Andrius watched its massive form shift, confusion flickering in his mind. He had expected another lunge, another chance to dodge and counterattack. Instead, the creature's throat bulged unnaturally. A moment later, it expelled a torrent of water with a roar that shook the very halls.

The force of the water struck Andrius before he could react, overwhelming him in an instant. Panic surged as he was lifted off his feet, his surroundings spinning in a chaotic blur. His chest felt tight as he struggled to breathe, the air snuffed from his lungs.

His body slammed into the ground, skidding across the stone floor before coming to a halt in a shallow puddle. Every part of him ached, but the searing pain was nothing compared to the cold that enveloped him. He coughed violently, expelling water from his lungs, gasping for air.

The knight sat up slowly.

His clothes clung to his body, soaked through, and his inundated hair dripped incessantly. Gritting his teeth, Andrius pushed himself onto one knee. The battle was not over, and he had strength yet left in his body.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" he contemptuously remarked, shooting daggers at the ophidian creature.

Then came the clacking sound of footsteps, growing louder with each second. Still catching his breath from his prior encounter, Andrius looked over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing with deadly intensity, scrutinising the newcomer emerging from the darkness.

The stranger's voice carried an eerie calmness as he addressed the dungeon guard, stabbing his own, quite literally, in the back. Nemesis was not surprised by the man's cruelty when he attempted to silence the blabbering fool from divulging too much.

As the stranger stepped into the warm light, Andrius took careful note of his features: sandy blond hair, a gilded brooch fashioned in the image of the sun bound to his pale coat, and a shortsword strapped at his side.

Oddly, the stranger was not shy to introduce himself.

Cyril.

But a sudden THUCK, followed by an immediate thrashing and hiss, snapped the knight from his curiosity, and his attention returned to his primary target. The monster once again writhed through the air, hunting after the blade swimming effortlessly just out of reach.

Magpie manoeuvred the weapon with adroit precision, skilled enough to the point Andrius may have considered offering him a place among the First Faction. With an abrupt, calculated thrust, he jammed the sword through the roof of the monster's jaw. The blade pierced through its beak, protruding like a grotesque horn, stained with thick, dark blood.

"Excellent! Amazing work, Magpie!" Andrius cheered.

The monster spiralled in an uncontrollable frenzy, desperately attempting to dislodge the sword embedded in its mouth.

Vermillion rushed to Andrius' side, his face pale with concern. He placed his arms around the knight in a pitiful attempt to help him stand. But prideful as he was, the latter was quick to bat away Vermillion's hand.

"I'm fine," he snapped, rising to his feet.

When Vermillion insisted Nemesis to assist the others in dealing with Cyril, he hesitated, glaring at the monstrous creature that still thrashed and hissed in its death throes.

Will just the two of them be able to hand this thing?

Deep down, he knew that even Vermillion and Magpie working together wouldn't be enough to ensure victory. They needed more manpower. Given how The Chariot operated, it made sense for the group to perform a joint assault on the monster, leveraging their increased numbers and stronger enhancement.

But there wasn't time to debate the strategy. Andrius simply nodded and turned his attention to the stranger. He was confident he alone could deal with their new friend, swiftly. He would make quick work of him, freeing the others to join the fight against the monster.

The blue-eyed knight hurried to the others, slowing to a gentle stroll as he approached, finding Dusk and Vanitas already engaged with the newcomer, each of them holding their own. Andrius stepped beside Vanitas, who had his spear levelled at Cyril's chest, his eyes locked onto his opponent's every movement.

Andrius placed a firm, commanding, hand on his comrade's shoulder.

"My thanks to you all," he said, addressing Vanitas, Dusk, and Carnelian. Nemesis then glared baleful blue moons at their aggressor. "I will take it from here."

He ran his palm along the flat of his, staring at his own reflection in the metallic surface.

"Go, help Vermillion and Magpie defeat the monster... Meanwhile, I will tend to this new 'friend' of ours."

Once they left, Andrius twisted his blade, placing one hand on the pommel, and the other hand on top, he drove it into the stone floor. The sonorous ding echoed through the hallway, the sharp ringing note seeming to hang in the air.

As the sound faded, Andrius's eyes began to glow a brilliant blue flame, a glimmering light that pierced the dullness of the dungeon.

"I'm about to wipe that puny smirk off your face," he warned, his voice cold, threatening, and steady, disinterested in any witty retort. "You're about to face judgment."

NEMESIS​

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Akseli Arbeit — Rattler

As they went through the secretive corridors of this manor, Basil began recounting his capture and eventual imprisonment. Akseli's attention was keen, but the quietude of his mind was disturbed like pebbles tossed into the tranquility of a pond beneath the midnight sky, the moon's reflection rippling unseemly. He marshaled his breathing, his footfalls, unwilling to unsettle the half-dark, dusty quiet of the flagstone they were passing through — besides Basil's explanation. Again, the feeling that they were scurrying like red-eyed rats crept over Akseli. He allows that when he first joined Arcana, these secreted missions weren't unexpected, but he had grossly underestimated their importance, ubiquity, and necessity. In his ignorant inexperience, he had believed that Arcana possessed the cunning and might necessary to directly mount attacks against the monarchy. These notions were quickly dispelled by both verbal instruction and Akseli's own musing upon deeper inspection.

Akseli's greatsword weighed heavily on his shoulder. He shifted, readjusting his stance. As the weak light came from the wall-mounted fixtures, it played on the edges of Akseli's helm, giving the Engine'er a wicked, cruel outline in the pale darkness of these stone corridors. Akseli's thoughts drifted to his fellows in the Third Faction: Magpie, Carnelian, and Samadhi. How had they fared on their mission so far? It felt strange, almost perverse to be dwelling on another's progress, wondering how they're handling it. As if his very mind could curse them with failure beyond measure for daring to wonder. Perhaps, he was simply being superstitious.

When Basil concluded his recollection of being beaten, bound, and incarcerated, they reached the end of this secret passage. For whatever reason, Akseli felt like it lasted too long. As they entered the room, seemingly an expansive storage room, the Engine'er spotted the cleanliness of it as opposed to the corridor they just left, running gloved fingers down the length of a wall, barely a mote of dust — clearly, this place was used more often, it felt exposing as though their backs were unarmoured, waiting for a cold, merciless blade to plunge deep.

The door of the storage room creaked open, Akseli spun, bringing his greatsword to bear immediately. The subtle mewling almost disarmed the Engine'er, then came the delicate footfalls of a woman causing Akseli's body to tense, his grip tightening on his weapon.

His grey eyes, as stark as the moonlight, fixed the white-haired woman. She moved imperceptibly, almost-impossible for his too-human mind to recognise the swiftness of her movement. Still, his reflexes kicked in, moving to strike with his greatsword from left to right before the patter of a liquid resounded behind him. It was a wet, precise noise immediately snatching his attention.

Knightmare slumped, body connecting with the floor hard. Akseli dropped his greatsword, clattering against the stonework, he went beside her body, lifting up his visor to see better. Her throat had been torn a wicked blade, blood pooling on the cold stone beneath her. Akseli's hands pressed on her neck, closing around the wound. Fingers wetted crimson, his voice shook in the gloom of the room. Panic prowled at the edges of his mind, subconsciously Akseli understood that he was one focused thought away from freezing. So he kept himself busy. "Neck wound." Akseli rasped quietly, hurriedly recalling his father's teachings about injuries to the neck. "Cloth, gauze, anything now!" Akseli called to Spinel and Basil, begging one of them to act.

Interactions: Nano (Spinel & Basil)
Mentions: The rest of Third Faction;

 

[OldTurtle]

Dorian Alfieri | Ematille

This was already a fiasco of the highest degree. Between Arum's sudden application of his Stigma and Samadhi and Défrayer both charging forward without an ounce of caution, it seemed they were taking to their responsibilities with a tad too much zeal. Sometimes Dorian questioned whether becoming the Second Faction's leader was worth the trouble. Wrangling the troublemakers would test even the patience of a saint -- and he knew very well sainthood was beyond his reach.

At any rate, Samadhi could handle himself, as he demonstrated with an apt display of skill. He must have been among the most physically-inclined members of Spinel's followers, head and shoulders above his perpetually-sickly leader. No Vermillion or Nemesis, but enough to toy with Valeria's little beast. The ghastly creature couldn't land so much as a single swipe on the tall man. Were Dorian a different man, he might have even felt sorry for the pitiable thing. As it was, his heart failed to stir at the sight of its plight.

Défrayer, on the other hand, was as maddeningly single-minded as always. Really, that one alternated between brief moments of genius and clarity and a confounding haze of lunacy. Dorian vastly preferred the former over the latter. Paying little attention to Valeria's cane -- a relic, as apparent to the eye as any other --, they swept in to snatch away Meredith's limp form. Oh, the fool, without an ounce of knowledge on the woman's capabilities? Perhaps he should send more of his faction off to Vermillion's crucible. For all his distaste of the man, he had an understanding of strategy that clearly eluded a few of those present.

As Valeria whipped around, Arum's distraction not quite enough to fully capture her attention, and her cane snapped up, Dorian moved forward. Hands snapping out, the lanky man reached out to seize Défrayer by the shoulder and drag them down. The thorned vine cracked through the air abovehead, viper-fast and narrowly missing both by a hair's breadth. If not for Arum's swift intervention, it might very well have taken both their heads. Biting back a curse, Dorian scowled behind his mask. So much for secrecy; now that he'd revealed himself, it would be nigh impossible to disguise himself again. Well, the midst of battle was no time to criticize them, despite his immediate urge. That could wait a short while.

"Quickly," he snapped brusquely, shoving himself up to his feet. With Arum continuing to interfere with the Arva matriarch, there was a brief moment of respite.

Leaving Défrayer to help themselves up, Dorian leaned down and seized Meredith by the other arm, helping ferry her toward the waiting Amethyst. She met the three partway, dropping down to begin treating their fallen comrade. As she busied herself with the girl, he cast a glance around the small room. Samadhi across the chamber, readying to summarily execute the aquiline beast, Arum clinging to Valeria's skirts with great, heaving sobs -- my, the boy was quite the actor, wasn't he? --, and... where had that one-?

Ah, there -- a subtle glint in shadows behind Valeria caught Dorian's eye. Pawn, sharp scissors in hand, reflected the light of her lamp with their blades, just bright enough for him to pick up. She gestured rather unsubtly at the distracted Arva with a sharp motion. For a moment, he paused. They'd already achieved their primary goal here, and time was already growing short. But... the opportunity to strike at a major supporter of the crown was one rarely found, and Arcana would likely never find the Arva so vulnerable again. It was too tempting.

Mind set, Dorian responded to Pawn's silent request with a single, sharp nod. Stepping away from Meredith and Amethyst, he retrieved his watch from his pocket.

"No," he denied the pale-haired woman's appeal and turning to instruct Samadhi. "Finish the beast off and take Death aboveground. We have no dire need of the creature that justifies hindering our speed with its weight." Instead, he pressed his fingers against the side of his watch and without hesitation cranked it fully to the maximum.

Immediately, he felt the effects. It was as if he had a magnetism about him, a larger-than-life presence that drew all eyes to his body. His false auburn curls fell perfectly about his shoulders, without so much as a single strand out of place and his actor's mask caught the light magnificently, its gilt surface glowing. Even his ratty costume, originally chosen with the intent of concealment, felt as if it were some important vestement, fit only for the greatest of figures.

"Foolish boy," he boomed, voice resounding throughout the stone chamber. One hand point imposingly at Valeria and Arum, while the other drew his dagger. Underneath his gloves, his Stigma glowed white. "Do not think that woman will save you and your father now. The Arva are scum of the earth, nothing more than lowly dogs of the crown. Loyalty means nothing to their kind, or they would not have been so readily betrayed by even their most longstanding allies and servants. Ha! Every last one, eager to watch the House burn."

---

Interactions:

Mentions: Group 2

Location: Underground, Arva Estate

 

[nios]

Scene 001

Pawn

Emersyn Illiro

The ounce of generosity to look after Arum's back sizzled into a vapor. The outstretched hand retreated to her side as she didn't anticipate for Valeria Arva to interact with Arum as if they knew each other. To say the least, their sudden interaction startled Emersyn and forced her to immediately steer herself away from the pair as quick as she could. While Valeria Arva remained preoccupied by Arum's hysterics, delivered vines to dispel the other group members, and even use her mutated creature as a weapon, Emersyn situated herself safely within the Arva woman's blindside where she quietly observed the situation before her.

As Arum sobbed against the woman's arm like a desperate child, Emersyn's nose scrunched behind her mask. She tried to remain rational as she visually picked at his hysteric behavior, but as fatigued as Emersyn was, her mind eventually cradled a singular idea: Arum could be a traitor. She suddenly recalled his recklessness back in the observatory and every memory she had of him became distorted by her paranoia. How had we not noticed? The snake! The traitor! Emersyn had set her mind to eliminating the threat.

She retrieved her weapon from its holster and kept a calculated gaze on the sobbing figure. She would show him mercy, at least. She'll be quick. Yet, as Emersyn slowly began to rise from her crouched position, she paused. Would there be consequences for killing the traitor? What would become of her if she wasn't recognized for her loyalty to the organization, but rather, a murderer and kicked out? Killed even? The sliver of transparency nearly brought Emersyn to give up and rush past the pair to assist Amethyst and Defrayer. However, Emersyn's gaze transfixed on Valeria Arva instead. Yes, there was still that option...

The next thing Emersyn sought to do was grab Ematille's attention from across the arena, but alas, it was already absorbed by the others in the group. She tapped her finger against the ground as she pondered her available moves. The only possible options to get him to look her way would be to either yell at him, run across the room, or to throw something at him... But to sacrifice her only advantage and blow this opportunity? There was no way. She knew her faction leader would understand her the moment she gets his attention, so it was just the matter of "how to get him to look my way...," she mouthed until her eyes were flashed by the torch light reflecting off the scissor's exposed blade. Emersyn winced as she rotated the blade's face toward her once again. Perhaps if I... Curiously, she positioned the glint toward Ematille's direction.

​

The excitement of her plan working was short lived as Emersyn quickly realized she did not think of what to do after Ematille was focused on her. Should I wave? In truth, she was not expecting her plan to work at all. But out of fear of wasting time, Emersyn jabbed her pointer finger in the direction of Valeria Arva and hoped the faction leader wordlessly understood her intentions. A thrill zapped through Emersyn once she received his nonverbal approval. It hadn't registered to her yet that she was grinning behind her mask. Emersyn prepared herself once she recognized Ematille was shifting Arum and Valeria's attention towards him. This is it, she realized and proceeded to sneak behind Valeria. She previously snapped off the pivot holding the scissors together and the detached pieces dangled from two fingers in one of her hands. Meanwhile, her other hand held the torch in a tight grip--- as if she was prepared to do something with it.

"...Ha! Every last one, eager to watch the House burn."

Upon Ematille's last words, Emersyn forcefully swung the torch upside Valeria's head. The relic's carefully and meticulously refurbished glass shattered and elicited a dull thud across Valeria's temple. Emersyn could only hope Amethyst wouldn't be too crossed with her for destroying it. The damaged torch would be dropped on the ground once Emersyn followed through with its momentum. Then, once she's finished recovering from the first attack, Emersyn swiftly distributed her blades into both of her hands and will attempt to slit Valeria's throat from behind, her arms nearly wrapping around the blue-haired woman.

#interaction: @Group02, Nano

#location: Arena, Arva Estate

#tags: fuvaleria

Code by Nano

 

[Nano]

Cradle of Desire

Scene 001

Bloody_Death fluticasone Zariel lucenti A Murder Of Corviknight 606

With no time to move out of the way of the fist-sized rock propelled by Dusk’s Stigma, Cyril would attempt to block its trajectory with his sword. A sharp clang echoed throughout the damp corridor, and the impact would send the sword spinning through the air and fling the blonde’s swordarm to the side. However, to his benefit, Vanitas’s decision to strike from the same side as Dusk would allow the blonde to lean into that momentum to barely dodge out of the poleaxe’s path. The self-assured smirk that had been present upon the blonde’s face never dropped, aggravatingly nonchalant much like the cloth of his coat brushing past the shaft of the passing weapon. As his sword clattered uselessly upon the dungeon’s floor, he torqued his body into a quick spin, aiming a powerful kick into the green-haired man’s side that would have sent him crashing into the wall had Vanitas not nimbly dodged out of the way.

However, their engagement would come to a brief end, interrupted by the earth-shattering screech of the serpentine beast. The smell of briney, burnt flesh and ozone would fill the corridor, and Cyril turned his head to look impassively upon the now limp body of the beast lying at Vermillion’s feet.

As if the Fischken’s death had washed away any and all desire to fight, Cyril merely jumped back one pace and shrugged when Nemesis addressed him. “Sorry, I’m not interested in your Judgment or whatever religion you’re trying to sell.” With a sigh, he removed a second dagger from the inside of his coat, this time using it to stab into the center of the hilt of the roseate dagger in his left hand.

“Here’s a little gift,” he laughed, throwing the dagger in his hand into the floor by Nemesis’s feet. The moment the blade hit the ground—or someone’s weapon should they be daring enough to deflect it—the dagger exploded with a bright flash, burning any who were too close without taking sufficient cover.

In the aftermath of the blast, pieces of rubble rained down from the ceiling, though not enough to damage the structural integrity of the dungeon enough to send its walls crashing down. Past the rain of rocks and dust, not even a shadow of Cyril’s figure would remain. However, the faint glimmer of the blonde’s sword shone in the distance, pristine despite the harsh treatment it had endured.

OldTurtle nios Dovinique Cresion Breezes Dawnsx ThatWhichShouldBe

Arum’s stigma proved to have a tight hold on Valeria’s psyche, given that the noble had yet to execute the redhead for daring to rub his snot and tears upon her formerly neatly arranged clothing.

“Get off, you damned mongrel!” she snarled, but her attempts at pushing on Arum’s head to remove herself from his clutches all ended in vain. Her ire grew, coloring her pale cheeks an angry red, and the look in her eyes quickly turned murderous. However, before her ever tightening grip on her cane could result in anything catastrophic, a glass lamp would come smashing into the side of her head. One final push alongside the impact from the lamp successfully shoved Arum off of Valeria, while the blue-haired woman stumbled backward as her left hand flew up to the site of impact. Shards of glass embedded themselves painfully into her temple and eyelid, and the blood running down her face caused her to instinctively close her eyes, leaving her prone to further attacks.

Before Em could wrap her arm and gouge her scissors into Valeria’s neck, the monster on the verge of execution suddenly perked up, as if getting a second wind. Its svelte body nimbly wove itself out of Samadhi’s range, flipping into the air and sailing past the Arcana members to throw Pawn away from its master with a sudden swipe of its tail. Despite the injuries littering its body, it curled protectively around the noble, as if ready to lay down its life—rather strange behavior for what was supposed to be a mindless beast.

From where Ematille had dragged off Death and left her in Amethyst’s care, Meredith gazed at the aquatic canine and weakly whispered to the other members nearby, “Put her out of her misery…”

Worthlessplebian Bloody_Death OldTurtle

Akseli’s hurried urging pulled Basil’s attention from where the mysterious woman had disappeared back to her victim. Taking in a deep breath and releasing it in an attempt to regain his composure, the medic held his hand out toward Spinel. “Medkit. Now. You carry one, right?”

Despite the brusque manner in which the request was delivered, the redhead was quick to comply, saying nothing about Basil’s attitude while retrieving the necessary items from his earring. After handing the supplies off to the medic, Spinel secured his steel rod back in his hands and walked toward the door of the storage shed.

“Rattler, stay here and assist Basil. Do what you can. I’ll keep an eye out and contact Ematille and Vermillion. We’re leaving once Knightmare’s stable.” the redhead stated before cautiously peering out the corner of the doorway that had been left wide open. However, Eloise would be nowhere to be seen, vanishing just as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Whilst Knightmare was being treated in the storage room, Ematille and Vermillion would suddenly hear a voice telepathically transmitted directly into their minds:

“Knightmare’s down. We’re retreating after she’s treated. What’s your status?”

Code by Nano

 

[Zariel]

As Nemesis was about to catechize Cyril, the latter had no intention of lingering any longer. The grotesque creature that had once served as their 'sentinel' now lay slain behind Nemesis, its foul blood seeping into the stone floor.

Unveiling a hidden dagger, Cyril hurled the blade at Nemesis. Instinctively, Nemesis' eyes darted to the dagger at his feet. He noticed the cracks spreading along its surface, and, in a fraction of a second, understood the imminent danger. The dagger was about to explode in a blinding flash. Had his sharp judgement and keenly attuned senses been a sliver dimmer, he wouldn't have been able to dodge backwards in time to evade the blast.

"Tsk!" he hissed.

When the smoke cleared, Nemesis' gaze fixed on the spot where Cyril had stood moments before. His assailant was already fleeing, melting into the dark corridors of the dungeon. The knight was about to give chase, his fury propelling him forward, when the surrounding walls began to tremble violently and rocks started to fall from the ceiling.

"Hmph!" disappointed, his flaming blue eyes faded as he deactivated his Stigma.

Nemesis turned away from Cyril's escape route, rejoining his team, who were now gathered around the monster's carcass. He looked down upon the lifeless creature with loathsome revulsion. The putrid stench of death clung to the air.

His attention shifted to their leader, who stood opposite. Their typically cheery and determined visage had been abruptly marred by an odd, yet telling, look of vexation. Nemesis raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry, questioning the cause of his leader's sudden discontent, though he had his suspicions.

"Vermillion?" he asked, awaiting orders about their next move.

NEMESIS​

 

[A Murder Of Corviknight]

looking for schrodinger's image

Leif Sterna | Magpie

Tags: Bloody_Death fluticasone Zariel lucenti 606

As with most missions, everything seemed to move at a rapid pace with barely any room to take a breather. Leif only had a moment to briefly glance at the situation that the other half of their team have gotten themselves into with their unwanted guest (or were they his unwanted guests?) before Vermillion’s spear was being tossed into his hands. It was only experience from catching (possibly explosive) bits and pieces of relics rolling off tables that allowed him to catch the spear without fumbling.

With a quiet and calm hum, Leif shifted his grip on said spear to move around with it more easily before following Vermillion’s orders and stepping a good distance from the water.

The now observing teammate let out a low whistle as he watched Vermillion go after the monster without much hesitation. With a little struggle, Vermillion managed to eventually reach the top of its head and use the stuck sword as a conductor to electrify it before it could fly into the water with the blond still gripping onto it stubbornly as a badger.

But before they could even feel satisfaction in bringing the monster down, a loud and bright explosion drew his attention back towards the other half of the team.

"That,"

Leif started cheerfully as he dusted himself off with one hand,

"was not me! So someone please make sure to be my witness later when I have to report to Spinel."

After glancing back in the monster’s and Vermillion’s direction to make sure the monster was really dead and Vermillion was relatively unharmed, Leif stepped around the falling rocks and closer to the rest of the group to regroup. Once he got close enough to the rest of the group and subsequently the explosive dagger that was likely a relic, he swiped the dagger off the ground with his stigma and let it float behind them at a (assumed) safe distance.

"Unfortunately, this is a deadend for us, I think. I’m assuming the direction that the other guy left through is the only other way deeper in."

He shrugged towards the unstable and rumbling side of the labyrinth,

"it’s too unstable without getting trapped in."

"That and…"

his eyes casually slid over to the direction of the guards. His expression, while pleasant, had a vaguely pitying look to it.

"...With the exposure, they might not live long enough to be interrogated if we don’t get out soon."

 

[Dovinique]

Yenoia Abillene | Amethyst

Not the lantern…

Yenoia thought, her eyes widening as she watched the beautiful relic shattered into pieces, sacrificed in Pawn's plan. She gritted her teeth, swallowing the bitter taste of anger that was boiling right under her tongue. The third faction would undoubtedly demand an explanation in form of “report” for the loss of their precious artifact, and Yenoia loathed administrative tasks. However, if their plan succeeded and they managed to bring down Valeria, she might just let this slide or... she could ask Pawn to make the report instead. Just then, the plan appeared to be working, but in the next moment, the dog creature which supposed to be on the brink of death, sprang up, barreling toward Valeria and tossing Pawn aside like a rag doll.

A sharp click of her tongue marked the peak of Yenoia's annoyance. She was ready to leave the room, but a new scene had emerged. The room's temperature rose with the intensity of the scene, and the damp, foul odor assaulting her nose added to her discomfort. She needed fresh air and she needed it NOW. Owen would definitely hear about this, she would make sure she would never assigned to this kind of mission.

The team might try to defeat those duo, especially if any of them heard Meredith’s request. Yenoia, for sure, didn’t care much about it. Their goal was clear, to retrieve Meredith and they were just an inch away to finish the mission. Determined to end the mission quickly, Yenoia scanned the room for the dog creature's blind spot. Its defensive stance around Valeria suggested it wouldn’t pay much attention to the periphery, focusing instead on visible threats like Pawn, Defrayer, and Samadhi. Valeria, who was temporarily blinded, posed no immediate danger. Yenoia began to move stealthily along the wall, sliding into a corner diagonally behind the creature. While moving, the idea of waiting for Ematille's instruction crossed her mind, but she brushed it off immediately. Bad decision perhaps...

Once she was at the intended spot, Yenoia started to hesitating, weighing her two options... should she dash to touch the creature or approach stealthily?

A single touch would require just a second, enough to cause the injured beast to squirm in pain because its wound already severed, rendering it incapable of attack. Maintaining contact for another five seconds would amplify the agony, immobilizing it completely. Yet, this would expose her to Valeria’s wrath, but Yenoia trusted the others to handle Valeria if she succeeded.

With a decisive nod, Yenoia made up her mind. Taking a deep breath, she activated her stigma once again. With all the speed she could muster, she dashed toward the dog creature, hand outstretched to make contact with its slick, slippery skin.

Interaction: Nano (Dog)
Mention: Pawn, Defrayer, Samadhi, Ematille

 

[Nano]

Cradle of Desire

Scene 001

With their damsel in distress retrieved and Valeria’s pet executed, all the members of Arcana would be given their orders to retreat. Though Cyril and the mysterious woman who’d stabbed Knightmare had disappeared without a trace, Valeria herself would not be graced with an opportunity to escape. Cornered as she was, the woman ruefully spat in the face of any who’d attempted to interrogate her, and she spent the rest of her time glaring hatefully at Cyrus and Meredith. The only words she’d leave them were cheap lines reminiscent of the clichés villains often spouted in fiction.

Seeing that no amount of timely intervention would get the woman to spill whatever secrets she kept in her chest, her useless drivel would be cut unceremoniously with a quick knock to her head. Naturally, the mad scientist of the Third Faction didn’t forget to dose her with blood hosting concentrated mana, no doubt a gradual and painful death sentence for the vain woman who cherished her noble status more than anything.

Upon arriving back at The Whistling Maple, both Death and Knightmare were transported into a spare room at the tavern for bedrest. Though Death had been thrashed violently by her older sibling, most of her wounds were fairly superficial, and she wouldn’t need more than two or three days to run around and cause trouble as she usually did. Knightmare, however, had barely survived from the bloodloss. It was unknown when the woman would wake, and she was merely fortunate the wound had been confined to a smaller albeit vital area.

Basil, in his usual brusque manner, thanked Rattler for his assistance and shoed away any other stragglers who’d entered the room to gawk. For the time being, he’d promised to remain vigilant in the care of Knightmare’s wound. After all, there was little he could do but keep low and wait things out at the tavern given that he didn’t know if Valeria had reported anything incriminating to his father.

Unfortunately for Arcana, many would be assorted tasks to be completed by the next day, necessitated by the information that they’d been betrayed by a longtime member of theirs.

Group 1: OldTurtle Dawnsx Zariel

“Good morning,” a soft voice called out to the three men at their promised meeting spot, and the adolescent in blue greeted them with a polite curtsy. Long, platinum blonde hair trailed down her back in waves, and a singular slate-colored eye peeked out from the long bangs covering the right side of her small face. Pale skin, a delicate frame, and scarless, perfectly shapen fingers could deceive most into believing she was the sheltered daughter of some well-off family, but those present knew better than to fall for her demure looks.

Had the Arcana members expressed visible discomfort, the young girl, Anemona, paid them no mind. Instead, her gentle smile grew upon spotting the familiar redhead amidst the trio, as if she had been particularly excited to meet him in particular. “Of course, I haven’t forgotten you, Arum. I hope you and Daemon are doing well.”

Not long after these greetings were exchanged, the four would set off for their true destination. The house of the Aspens wouldn’t be too far from the old chapel, an abandoned architectural marvel once dedicated to the goddess Lucinde. No more than a ten minutes’ walk later, Anemona reached forward to give the aged door a few knocks. Then, they waited.

Soon, a woman peered out cautiously from the small crack she’d opened. Though most of her features couldn’t be made out clearly, her eyes were dark and sunken, as if she were heavily stressed and hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past few days, and her back was hunched. The hand at her chest clutched the thick shawl wrapped around her body tighter.

“I…I already said we don’t need your snake oil. Please leave me alone…”

Group 2: ThatWhichShouldBe Aukanai

The storefront of Roth’s place of employment had a plain facade, but stepping through its doors transitioned into a scene of surprising colors. Though they weren’t quite as vibrant as the apparel deemed fit for the queen, hats colored with dyes on the less common side hung upon the wooden hooks hanging upon the hall. Directly below the hooks, the more decorative hats with more frills and flourish daintily sat upon the wooden stands placed atop a circular table.

From behind an ochre workbench of the hatmaker’s atelier, a young woman sat hunched over a wide-brimmed felt hat. Skilled hands carefully sewed the last of three rosettes pinned to white lace while a much taller man watched his apprentice work from behind her. Unlike the woman who’d tied her hair into a neat bun and wore a simple dress free of stains or wrinkles, the hatmaker was strangely unkempt. Black hair formed a cloud of messy curls that covered his eyes entirely, and thick facial hair obscured much of the rest of his facial features.

When the two heard the sound of the door opening and closing, the young woman passed her hat to her teacher and came around the workbench to greet their customers.

“Hello, and welcome. Are you here to pick up an order?” she said cheerfully while her gaze darted between the pair as if to check whether or not she recognized them.

Group 3: Nano Bloody_Death lucenti fluticasone

To the left, there was nothing. To the right, there was also nothing.

When Death had first been questioned regarding the whereabouts of Roth’s gem of rebirth upon regaining consciousness at the tavern, she reported that the gem was stationed quite a ways from the traitor’s places of residence and employment. However, it was stationary, meaning that he’d either stopped by an establishment or home of an associate to rest for the night or discarded the gem, with the latter being the far more likely case if he were smart.

It was only in the morning that the gem had suddenly shifted in position and began to move about erratically. To better keep track of the gem’s movements, Death begrudgingly obliged to Owen’s request that she remain in contact with Spinel via his stigma for the sake of enacting revenge against her captor. The four dispatched on the search would find themselves coming up empty-handed upon arrival, spotting neither hide nor hair of the man they were hunting down.

“It should be no further than a few meters from where you’re standing,” Death replied to Spinel’s frustrated inquiries with a disinterested yawn.

Though the recipient of the message was too busy nursing a headache, one of the more observant members present would finally take note of a cat sitting atop a planter, crushing the poor flowers that had been painstakingly raised within. The orange tabby paid no mind to the passersby, too busy licking its paws to grace the busy mortals with its attention. More importantly, a distinct red jewel with a silver loop hung off of the black ribbon tied to its neck.

Group 4: A Murder Of Corviknight Cresion Breezes Worthlessplebian nios Dovinique

“I am NOT a liar! I really saw him tap something here to open a secret door in the wall!”

“Guys, don’t fight… What if the scary adults come back…”

Beyond the fencing of a graveyard and hidden behind a stray wall, a group of three children were arguing noisily at the very site a handful of Arcana’s members had been dispatched to investigate. Squished up against tall walls bordering the Clarise River and having existed prior to the fall of the Cradle, it was rare to find people gathered in the area. Stranger yet, the children appeared no older than the ages of seven or eight, far too young to be out and about when the sun had already begun to set.

The shortest of the three crossed his arms and kicked at the stone wall before jumping back while clutching his shoe with a yelp. Next to him, the irritated little girl whose arms had been crossed the entire time clicked her tongue. “Yeah, you’re right. You’re not a liar, you’re just stupid.”

The third child, a skittish girl with dark brown hair pulled back in a messy braid, looked around nervously before pulling on the other girl’s sleeve. “Chloé. Lou. Let’s go home already.”

Code by Nano

 

[Dawnsx]

Bippity boppity booo

Cyrus︱Arum

No rest for the wicked, as they say. Despite having spent the night prior on the rescue mission, Cyrus was requested the next day for yet another task. By Ematille, no less! If he hadn’t already worked with the man to rescue Death, he might’ve been a little jittery to rendezvous with Ematille at the meeting spot.

As things stood, Cyrus was just pleased with himself. He must have left a good impression last night for such a prominent figure in Arcana to personally extend a request for him to join this mission!

Cyrus clasped his hands behind his back and tried to not look too eager as they waited for the last member of their squad. Nemesis, fellow member of the first faction, was also here, but he was a solemn man who didn’t enjoy chit chat. For now, Cyrus was content to leave Nemesis be as he pondered who the last person could be.

Their job today was to question Roth’s family. Cyrus had been sorely disappointed to find out that he was a traitor. He didn’t know Roth very well, but he liked the man well enough. Cyrus didn’t know what exactly they were supposed to get out of Roth’s family, but he supposed that it wouldn’t do if they knew crucial information about Arcana–

Cyrus’s heart ratcheted as realization crashed like a wave of icy water.

“Good morning.”

On reflex, Cyrus’s hands clenched into tight fists. He turned around stiffly in time to see Anemona offering them a pretty little curtsy.

She looked as sweet and beautiful as ever.

Cyrus wanted to punch her face in.

For most of his life, “hatred” had been an entirely foreign concept to Cyrus. He had been fascinated by everything that the world had to offer. He loved meeting new people, loved trying new foods, loved seeing the things that he had only read about in books.

Sure, sometimes he found certain foods yucky, or maybe he would be disappointed when certain things or people didn’t live up to his expectations. But that wasn’t hate. He didn’t even hate his parents. Not when they were just faceless, voiceless figures who didn’t matter. In fact, he might even feel a little grateful to them for bringing Daemon into his life.

Anemona taught him how it felt to despise someone.

Cyrus didn’t hate her at first, either. He had given her the benefit of the doubt and told himself that maybe her powers were fickle, that it was an honest mistake when she took more of Daemon’s memories than intended. Then, she told him how she just couldn’t help but linger on Daemon’s memories of Cyrus, and he understood.

Daemon’s life was ruined because– because she had no self-control. Because she couldn’t do her job as she was asked.

Cyrus hated her. He wanted to slap the smile off her face.

He wouldn’t, of course. Daemon raised him better than that. He still remembered the first time, years ago, when he smacked Daemon on the arm during a temper tantrum. Cyrus could probably count on one hand the number of times that Daemon had scolded him, and that was one of those instances. He couldn’t recall why he’d been mad at Daemon in the first place (Daemon probably could, if only his memories were intact), but he could clearly remember Daemon sternly telling him that hitting never solved anything.

(Cyrus ignored the irony that both of them wound up joining the Arcana, where violence was a constant companion.)

So no, Cyrus wouldn’t slap Anemona.

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten you, Arum. I hope you and Daemon are doing well.”

…Or shave her hair off. Or push her off a cliff. Or mutilate her face with Stabby.

”If we’re all here, then let’s go,” Cyrus bit out.

As the group set off toward the Aspen household, Ematille and Nemesis would have the pleasure of bearing witness to the rare occurrence of Cyrus being in a foul mood. When Anemona knocked on the door, he childishly thought about pushing her out of the doorway.

When a woman opened the door, Cyrus wasted no time in activating his stigma without a single shred of guilt for once. Anything to get Anemona away from him as soon as possible.

”We don’t have any snake oil,” Cyrus said curtly. ”Aren’t you going to let me and my friends in?”

Code by Nano

 

[Nano]

Cradle of Desire

Scene 001

Group 1: OldTurtle Dawnsx Zariel

Hearing Cyrus speak up from behind her, Anemona graced the woman obscured by the door with a gentle smile before stepping to the side of the doorway. Mrs. Aspen narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the gaggle of strangers assembled before her home, but her eyes suddenly lit up with recognition after studying the redhead for a few seconds. Though clearly a bit taken aback by his brusque tone and poor mood, the woman nonetheless opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

“Of course, come in! Come in!” Mrs. Aspen said sheepishly, “I’m really sorry about that, Cyrus dear. I’m not sure if your mother told you about it, but we’ve been facing some troublesome matters as of late.”

Despite confusion and curiosity clearly being etched upon her face, she hurried over to the table sitting in the common space and pulled one of the four chairs out and patted the seat while beaming brightly at Cyrus. Each piece of the dining set was simple in design, nothing more than slabs of beech wood carved with only basic functionality in mind. The rest of the home displayed a similar lack of extravagance. Bare walls greeted the members of Arcana, decorated only with a singular window whose wooden shutter had been left open to allow light in.

“It’s not much, but help yourselves if you wish,” Mrs. Aspen said while setting down a small wicker basket containing a few apples. Then, she turned her attention back to Cyrus. “So what brought you to this side of Verrin? Did your father sprain his ankle again?” Her eyes briefly flicked towards the others present in the room. “And who might these friends of yours be?”

Code by Nano

 

[Zariel]

Placing one hand across, Andrius rolled his still aching shoulder.

The battle the previous day had been gruelling, and the blonde-haired knight arguably endured the worst of it. Yet, there was no rest for the wicked. Vermillion had been swift in his orders, not even allowing him a full night's rest before assigning him to another mission.

After Basil revealed the identity of the traitor in their midst, Andrius was to accompany the Second Faction's leader to the Roth’s home. He knew all too well the nature of this mission, and hence understood his natural affinity for such a task, but he couldn’t ignore the suspicion that Vermillion had ulterior motives, again. Was this another one of his ploys to avoid dealing with Ematille, shoving the responsibility onto Andrius once more?

He sighed, adjusting his collar.

At least he would be accompanied by a familiar face. Andrius appreciated Arum’s respect for his preference for silence, refraining from indulging in trivial conversations with the vice leader. Odd, given the redhead's scandalous reputation.

Soon enough, their fourth finally arrived.

"And to you too, Anemona," Andrius flatly returned the greeting to the endearing young lady. "Now let's go."

---

When they arrived, the door creaked open to reveal a wearied woman, and though she sounded guarded, Arum was quick to use his deceptive powers to grant them easy entry into the home, stepping forward with an amicable and reassuring demeanour.

The lady invited them inside, guiding them to the parlour, a modest room furnished with basic but clean pieces. The woman’s hospitality was unexpectedly warm, especially toward the redhead. She gestured for them to sit around a table, laden with a basket of fresh apples.

Andrius moved silently to the seat nearest the window, positioning himself with a clear view of both the room and the outside. His eyes, sharp and discerning, began a meticulous scan of their surroundings. He doubted Roth would have been careless enough to leave anything incriminating out in the open, but vigilance was second nature to him.

The basket of apples caught his eye for a moment, lingering. But he did not reach for the fruit; instead, his gaze lifted to meet the woman’s as she spoke.

The knight held her gaze, "We're friends from work," he promptly answered. "Although, from the sounds of it... It seems Cyrus hasn't told you much about us."

The man then recalled something Mrs. Aspen mentioned earlier.

"We were just passing by the neighbourhood together when Cyrus remembered something. He said he wanted to check in on you after hearing you were going through a tough time, so we came to visit." he said, placing both his hands neatly on his crossed lap.

NEMESIS​

 

[A Murder Of Corviknight]

looking for schrodinger's image

Leif Sterna | Magpie

Tags: nios Worthlessplebian Dovinique Cresion Breezes

With the successful (or disastrous depending on who you asked) conclusion of their rescue mission for Death, Leif was swiftly given another task. Though thankfully, this time it was a request related to the Third Faction specifically rather than another rescue mission. With a little lack of sleep and a slight misfiring of the relic that nearly took out his eye, the request for relic modification was finished. Unfortunately for him, it was just in time for Flora to sneak up on him with a forceful nap and another mission.

He yawned his way through Flora’s debriefing of the new mission, as he started repacking the pack he barely unpacked the night before, strapping the new relic into place on his waist so he could deliver it on the way back. Something about debriefing him in person since she was one of the witnesses reporting the issue? A broken door?

Mercifully, before letting him go, she shoved a note written in his preferred way of writing into his jacket pocket with reminders of what she had told him. With a “you can read it when you’re more awake” she let him go to have a dose (or two) of coffee from the FoE with a skeptical look before letting him loose to meet up with others that were grouped with him in the mission.

------------------​

As they came up to the stone wall in question, the surprising presence of squabbling children made him check his slightly smokey pocket watch to check the time. To both his companions and the children he gave a puzzled tilt of his head,

"Shouldn’t children this age be at home already?"

Absent-mindedly, while waiting for a reply to his question, Leif ignored the squabbling children in the way and leaned against the wall to subtly trail his fingers along the stone wall. Once he realized that there was something odd, he looked at the children more closely. Rather than wear and tear or the work of a wild animal like a badger, the little bit of the damage he managed to get a feel of felt like purposeful man-made damage.

 

[Bloody_Death]

AURELIUS STALLARD || VERMILLION

With the vile beast put down to rest, his attention quickly turned to Cyril, who was the next target they had to deal with. Only for the man to vanish within his own explosion. Causing a small huff of curses to escape Auri's lips as he stepped away from the beast's carcass and back towards his group. With the beast slain and their only lead to Death's whereabouts vanishing like the wind, there wasn't much left they could really do but keep moving. Especially with the corpse of this beast lying around in here. Thankfully, one of the other groups had a better time, and they were given the order to retreat. At least they were able to gain a relic from this. After giving everyone a quick moment to catch their breath, it was time for them to say farewell to this godforsaken dungeon.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Another day and another mission. Aurelius was still a bit peeved at that man from yesterday escaping. Vowing to make sure they manage to strike him down next time they ever run into them...but that was going to have to be another worry for another day. Right now, he was tasked with finding the gem of rebirth with the company of his fellow faction leader, Spinel, Dusk, and Vanitas. Surely, with their combined efforts and Death's ability to track the gem, this shouldn't be something too hard...right?

Wrong. He was wrong. They've been chasing this signal for the past hour and have been finding nothing but dead ends. "How can a gem be so evasive...?" He spoke with a huff as they paused to allow Spinel to ask Death for more answers. "Is that not what you've been saying...?" He mumbled with a slight eye roll. This was a wild goose chase from the very start. The gem was most likely on some random person. Were they to just shake down anyone within a few meters of them? How in the world were they supposed to figure out where this goddamn gem was hiding at-

His eyes zeroed in on a cat nearby. The familiar sparkling red gem that was shining on its frilly collar. That had to be the gem of rebirth...why was it on a cat, of all things? He turned away from the group. Gently tugging off his non-magestoned glove and tucking it into his pocket. Crouching down a bit to the cat's level and holding out his ungloved hand to let the cat sniff his hand. "Hello little kitty..." He cooed softly. Cats and dogs have always been adorable. His movements were much more gentle than those around him were used to. A stark difference from the violent man who broke bones without even realizing it.

He patted his pouch and pulled out a small baggie with a boiled egg and some berries in it. He popped one of the berries in his mouth before breaking off a small piece of the boiled egg and holding it out to the cat. Giving a small chuckle as the cat gave a sniff before ultimately turning his head away. "Not hungry?" He mused. How could they get the gem off this cat without scaring it off...? Or alerting its owner who used the gem to make a collar? He peeked back at the others. Motioning his head towards the cat as he kept his hand extended out to the feline.

---

Interactions: Nano (Reno) || lucenti (Mel) || fluticasone (Tits)

Mentions: Kitty Cat!

 

[Dovinique]

Yenoia Abillene | Amethyst

Yen's gamble paid off as her final, desperate attack connected with the creature, allowing her stigma to take hold. A flurry of rapid strikes followed, each blow carefully calculated and flawlessly executed. The battlefield fell silent, victory firmly in Arcana's grasp. The mission was deemed a success and the team was ordered to retreat. Not only did they secure Meredith, but they also managed to get her sister, Valeria, as a bonus loot to their mission.

Back at the base, Yen eagerly offered to assist Basil in “taking care” of Meredith or Knightmare, only to be met with an instant refusal. Basil didn't hesitate for even a second, extending his hand to halt Yen's advance with a sharp "NO" This wasn't the first time they had clashed over patient care, but Yen, drained of energy, chose not to argue. With a heavy huff and a muttered curse, she left the room. A rest sounded appealing after such a grueling mission, but no… she had another mission tomorrow. She only had this night to rest. Could she complain? Yes, but did she do it? No, well she chose not to. Tonight, she just wanted to rest.

Returning home, Yen indulged in a long, thorough bath. Though the mission had lasted less than a day, she felt as if she'd been away for a week. Clean and refreshed, she retired to bed, the soft glow of a scented candle and the soothing warmth of herbal tea lulling her into a deep, restorative sleep.

✦✦✦​

Struggling to keep her eyes open against the weight of exhaustion, Yenoia trudged alongside her new mission team towards the designated location. She remained paired with Pawn and Defrayer, joined now by additional members from a third faction. One of them, Rattler, had made a good impression on her, while the other still pissed her off, Mockpie. She stole several quick glances at Rattler, wondering if the news of the destroyed relic had reached him. Her eyes then shifted to Pawn, she was more than ready to throw all the blame on the black-haired girl. In her defense, Yenoia just wanted Pawn to learn how to take responsibility and communicate better with people. What a good mentor, right?

Upon arrival at the location, their eyes were met not only by a broken door but also by the presence of three children. Yenoia furrowed her brows at the sight, her expression deepening into a perplexed frown and confusion. Magpie's question hung in the air, to which Yenoia responded with a nonchalant shrug. Instead of giving a direct answer, she approached the children, hands resting firmly on her hips. She didn’t mean to glare at those children, but her staring face surely gave away a chilling scary aura, “Now, now... what are you children doing here? Near the grave? At this hour?”

A mischievous smirk crept across Yenoia's face as an idea struck her. She slowly crouched down, drawing herself closer to the children. With one hand cupping the side of her mouth, she whispered in a hushed tone, "I heard... there's a very… very… vengeful spirit around here. An old lady with empty eye sockets and broken teeth. Her teeth, though extremely fractured, can still chew meat... slowly… chewing… grinding… until it's soft… mushy enough to swallow..."

Yenoia paused for effect, her eyes darting between each child as she continued, "...and do you know what her favorite food is? A tender… juicy… full of fat... meat... from CHILDREN!" She emphasized the word "children", widening her eyes dramatically as she snapped her fingers sharply in front of the young boy's face.

Interaction: Nano (The Children)
Mention: Fourth Team

 

[OldTurtle]

Dorian Alfieri | Ematille

Dorian was not in a foul mood. That would be unbecoming of him. A man of his stature need always maintain his composure and remain in control of his emotions. He'd been raised -- trained, really -- to satisfy only the strictest of standards for self-discipline. It had been years since his last lapse, and today was not the date of his next. Even if one of his most useful agents now laid entirely unconscious in an infirmary bed, confined for more than the forseeable future by a wound that should've never been suffered in the first place.

It would have been very easy to assign the blame to Spinel and his crony. He'd entrusted Knightmare's safety to their care in exchange for her guidance, and she'd been returned half-a-corpse. A failure on their parts. But it wasn't as if Knightmare was innocent either. She'd allowed herself to be ambushed all too easily and now paid the price. Perhaps he needed to move up those plans for mandatory training for his faction. Their performance had been subpar as of late. Vermillion would appreciate more bodies to tear into.

...Perhaps that was too cruel, even for him. At any rate, his urge to punish the trio of failures had cooled almost immediately. Dorian understood perfectly well enough that none of them could be blamed for the unfortunate encounter, but it certainly didn't hurt to maintain the facade of anger. It was, at the very least, a small chip to leverage against Spinel. The wily bastard cowered behind his guard too often for him to acquire anything very useful. So yes, Dorian was not in a foul mood, but he absolutely appeared to be in one. If Knightmare's near-corpse won't provide the value he'd expected to extract out of her before, she'd have to make up for it in other ways. He would milk this for all it was worth.

The expedition hadn't been a total loss either. Besides Death's rescue -- the benefits of which need not be reiterated -- they'd effectively shoved a stake through the heart of the Arva and recovered a handful of relics as well. And then there was the matter of the traitor...

That was too urgent a concern to leave for later, which is why Dorian found himself again accompanying several members of Arcana only a few hours after the conclusion of their little rescue mission. Someone needed to clean up after Roth, a responsibility that on the entire organization as a whole. Arum -- Dorian had sent for the boy after witnessing how effective his stigma was against Lady Arva -- seemed like he'd be useful in wheedling any information from the family, and Nemesis was the most obvious choice for any sort of interrogation. Now if only the man could manage to be personable for a few hours.

•••
​

Despite Arum's decidedly sour reaction to Anemona, the boy managed to quickly grant them entry to the Aspen home. Much too brusquely. Understandably so, considering his distasteful history with the painter, but Dorian was not in the habit of permitting excuses for misbehavior. Vermillion, no doubt, allowed anything and everything to pass without rectification. Well, he could hardly expect much better from that one.

Nudging the boy subtly in the side with an elbow and giving him a sharp look, Dorian stepped over the threshold, ducking slightly to avoid the timber frame. The space beyond was tight, cramped, and very simply furnished. There was an almost-homely warmth in the way the woman welcomed them, blemished apples and all. Dorian felt ill.

"Yes," the noble agreed, his voice honey-sweet and resounding through the small room hypnotically. He smiled kindly, eyes creasing slightly. "And to offer any assistance we could. Cyrus seemed quite troubled by your family's difficulties and we would make for poor friends if we left him to worry on his own." Dorian leaned in slightly, interlocking his hands in his lap. His smile faded, replaced with a faint expression of worry. "With how things have been as of late, we need to look after oneanother."

---

Interactions: Group 1

Mentions:

Location: The Aspen Home

 

[Nano]

Spinel

reno salvatore

location

The Streets of Verrin

interactions

Aurelius Bloody_Death , Titania fluticasone , Melios lucenti

mentions

Ematille

Reno’s morning began as beautifully as a day in the life of an overworked pawn prone to being tossed into forays he’d prefer keeping his nose out of. Three dozen apes danced and rattled about within his skull, producing a dull, incessant throb that came and went in waves but never truly died. Massaging his temples didn’t help, and closing his eyes barely did much to assuage the tense ache that felt as if some sadistic devil were attempting to push them painfully deeper into his eye sockets.

In short, it was a terrible morning.

Sometimes, he wished he could run away from it all. If he were to one day disappear, he had no doubts that there would be another, far more capable, who’d step up and fill the void he left behind. However, tethered by a promise and the constant reminders from that person that his life was suspended upon a single delicate thread, he continued to drown under the pressure of all these silly mind games and the fear that one day everything would come crashing down before he could take even a single step closer to his goal.

Unfortunately, the little voice in his head once again convinced him he was being dramatic over a small matter.

Thus, he obediently resized an engagement ring according to The World’s wishes, prepared all manners of excuses and retorts for when Ematille would inevitably confront him about Knightmare’s injuries, and allowed Death to puppet him and a small group of others around town without complaint. However, it only took an hour of fruitless searching and catching Vermillion in the act of fooling around with a cat for Spinel to determine that enough was enough.

“Hey-”

the redhead stepped forward to grab at Vermilion right shoulder, but before he could take more than three steps and scold the man for getting distracted, another voice interrupted his own. Only, hers was far louder.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing to my cat!”

A young woman stomped out of the building the cat had been preening itself in front of and shook an accusatory finger at the strangers allegedly heckling her pet. Reno’s approach and the commotion caused by the ginger tabby’s owner predictably sent the feline into alert. With a hiss, the small cat’s pupils constricted into tiny slits and it bolted past Vermilion and onto the streets.

From behind him, Reno heard the young woman plead for her cat to wait, but his mind focused on the ornament that had been hung upon the cat’s neck. All he’d caught was a brief glimpse, but he’d recognize that red gem anywhere.

One foot moved in front of the other before his mind could catch up to his body, and the redhead soon found himself bolting after the feline. Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to go very far—less than ten meters, in fact—before he’d skid to a stop to keep from bumping into a stranger who’d had the foresight to scoop up the fleeing house cat. Flexible as the small creature was, it briefly slipped from his grasp only to be caught once again before its paws could hit solid ground once again.

The man, whom Spinel only noted looked nothing more than a kind passerby dressed in a typical commoner’s garb with the usual wear and patched up tear, smiled kindly upon him, a strict contrast to the cat in his arms that was meowing pathetically as it scratched and struggled.

“Is this your cat?”

he asked, his voice pleasant to the ear and seemingly unperturbed by the injuries incurred by the ginger tabby’s murder mittens.

“Um, no…?”

he murmured, though he was once again interrupted by the young woman who appeared from behind him with an irritated huff.

“Yes, because he’s mine,”

she said while holding out her hands expectantly.

By the time the others who’d bothered to join the brief chase got close enough to join in on any potential conversation, the tabby was safely curled up within the woman’s embrace, slightly traumatized from the fiasco but no doubt content that he was finally within familiar arms once again. What they’d note, however, was that the blonde gazing thoughtfully at the cat’s collar as the woman thanked him looked rather familiar.

Even if he changed his clothes and hid himself behind the mask of a Good Samaritan, the man was undoubtedly the opposite party from their brief encounter in the Arva Manor’s dungeon.

code by Nano

 

[Nano]

Cradle of Desire

Scene 001

Group 1: OldTurtle Dawnsx Zariel

Once everyone was settled, Mrs. Aspen would seat herself upon the bench pushed up against the nearby wall. Though it was a few paces away from the table, the woman felt that it would be less awkward than standing about while her guests were seated. In the end, the house was small, and the short distance wouldn’t interfere with the upcoming conversation.

Andrius was the first to speak, though the way his eyes studied the bare walls and plain furnishings of her humble home tempted her to apologize for the lack of any interesting decorations. To her relief, the handsome lad would spare her the embarrassment, instead moving on to politely explain the reason for their visit. His friend would directly add to his statement, going on to sympathize with her family’s plight as well as offer a hand.

Oh, her nephew’s friends were so polite, she remarked to herself, growing at ease at the notion of finally having a trustworthy ear or two she could spill her woes to.

“My, that was awfully sweet of him,” she cooed while staring lovingly at Cyrus. Her bright smile then dropped, replaced with a vague curve that poorly disguised the anxiety she’d been holding in for the past month.

“I’m not sure if there’s much you can help with. I’ve just been overwhelmed with so much at once.” With a heavy sigh, the woman’s shoulders slumped forward, and the hands upon her lap scrunched up part of her skirt. “Our daughter somehow became ill from the effects of mana, and we’ve tried everything to fight this incurable disease. Our neighbors stay away out of fear she’ll pass the disease onto them, and now Roth’s up and disappeared.” Her head suddenly shot up, desperation evident in her eyes as her hands trembled. “I keep thinking about those two strange men who were talking to him in front of the house right before he disappeared. I’m sure upright people such as you wouldn’t associate with such shady characters, but you wouldn’t happen to have seen my husband within a week, have you? I don’t even know who to ask to help me find him. The town watch only tells me to stop wasting their time with trivial matters.”

Code by Nano

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Akseli Arbeit — Rattler

Akseli was alone in his personal laboratory after the evening's mission. The lights were dimmed as the Engine'er's hands trembled, his pallid skin ethereal in the subdued illumination. He had barely spoken to Spinel or Basil, or anyone else for that matter, beyond their necessities, and in truth, he was thankful for it. The bite of doubt, of failure stung him deep. Seeped down into the bones, muscles, and veins of his body. He clenched his hands, trying to will away the tremor that suffused fingers like a fire beneath his skin. But it wasn't something that would stop. His breathing felt burdened, a pressure coiling and crushing his chest. Akseli wondered, futile as it were, if anything could've been done. Could he have reacted quicker? Moved better? Altered the subtlest decision and made a better change? A part of his mind supposed so, drowned out in the torrent of thoughts, surging into his focus.

What did his mentor think? Were his disappointments hidden behind the inscrutable tiredness he so often affected? He hadn't served long enough to be certain of Spinel's innerworkings, at least not faultlessly. And this feeling of helplessness, sharp with familiarity, had always been anathema to him. Even as a child.

News of Arcana's other successes hadn't quelled the disquiet in his heart, but the knowledge that there were no fatal injuries had been enough. Even the fact that the loaned relic had been destroyed could not stir the numbed core within his chest, it felt inane, hollow to care about such things. Akseli breathed, tapping his fingers across the hard-wooden workbench. His eyes, moonlit grays, wandered to the carefully collected sheets of diagrams and schematics. The will to sketch, develop, and innovate had left him. Instead, he stood slowly, finding the comfort of his firm bed. His hands still trembling.

———————————​

The weight of exhaustion hung heavy about Akseli's eyelids, but the Engine'er endured. The sorrowing wind groaned as the new assembly of Arcana made their way to the location of their task. The wind, bitter, descended from the graveyard, snatching slightly at the folds of their clothes. His features were drawn, tired, though he tried to mask how fatigued he truly was — at least the shiver in his hands subsided. As they walked, he occasionally noticed Amethyst sneaking quick glimpses at him. Her eyes, carved in the magnificence of a warm sunset, looked as though they were trawling in the tumultuous tides of Akseli's mind. He assumed it was for his reaction to something, likely the destruction of the relic he loaned to her. Though he wasn't sure about it.

Tact and his self-avowed sense of duty restrained Akseli's irritation at her and Pawn. There would be time enough later for that.

His grim, dour expression softened suddenly, unexpectedly when the trio of figures came into view besides the wall's sharp outline. He carefully laid his kitbag against the wall, before casting a quick glance to Magpie. "Yes... Here of all places too." Akseli agreed and shook his head. Voice low, almost a whisper. The Engine'er observed Yenoia's theatrics. The act came all too naturally for her, as if she had been wrought into existence for this sole purpose. He almost imagined the frigid touch upon his skin. Akseli dismissed its significance, assigning the blame on his tiredness and the medic's captivating performance.

He went down on one knee beside her. His gray eyes, radiating a pleasant warmth, met their frightened and anxious gaze. "My friend here..." He gestured slowly to the artisan storyteller to his side. "Is right. A cemetery, especially as dusk encroaches, can be quite dangerous, setting aside whatever ghoul wanders the headstones over yonder. And more importantly, disrespectful to the men and women who rest there." He clapped his hands together gently. "But I can't fault your idle curiosities and bravery. So how about this: find Finn's carpentry, the old craftsman is a grump, but I'll be there and I'll make something for the three of you." Akseli said, voice soft with a firepit's warmth. His pallid features creased by a smile, bright as a star. "Run along now and you've my word."

Interactions: Nano (Children), Dovinique (Amethyst/Yenoia), A Murder Of Corviknight (Magpie/Leif).
Mentions: Reno/Spinel, nios (Em/Pawn).

 

[Cresion Breezes]

Zenith "Zeni" Rota || Défrayer

Zenith scratched their ear as Meredith's complaints about them dragging her across the dungeon floor, then callously picking her up like a ragdoll, then basically dumping her on the floor (although the intention was to dump her with Yen instead) was annoyingly piercing. There were way too many people in the room, the stuffiness caused their thinking to be rather clouded. "Ah...Merry, you're always so violent, killing things don't solve the prob-"

"See, it's not my fault I dropped you." Zenith shrugged as Dorian and Cyrus reacted to the whipping vines around the room, Zenith themselves hopped back a few steps before drawing their weapon with a flick to defend against some vines that had slipped through the assaults of the other team members. "I'mmmm fightinggggg- Hehe." The rapier user laughed as they watched a droplet of blood from a shallow slash wound on their face hurled through the air, in a clearer fashion than usual due to the activation of their stigma.

Back at the base, Zenith shook a few ledgers that contained bills relating to the repair of relics, some of which were broken due to the prior mission. "Ah ah, maybe I should've just died there...they're claiming how much on this?" They mumbled as pen and ink slid across scattered papers rapidly, well into the night.

---

"Alas alas, you're tired too?" Zenith caught up to the also weary-looking man, from the third faction, known as Rattler. "Maybe don't file relic invoices in one night, and after a combat mission too? Real studious of you guys in the Third, haha." They playfully mentioned to Rattler half-heartedly. Dorian did mention something about a member who was pretty badly injured in the last mission, but this guy wasn't one of the medical people, right? Zenith thought to themselves, since Yenoia was in their faction, they had a passing understanding of who has medical capabilities. It's not like he would need to work overtime to treat anyone's injuries if he's not a medic.The next day's mission was at the very least, not one that would require much reaction time or non-sleep-deprived mental states. Zenith followed a few members of their faction, as well as some from the third, likely for their technical expertise, to examine the damages on one of the entrances. Zenith looked around at the environment, it was a graveyard that was somewhat overgrown and pretty quiet, definitely not a place where natural damages were too common.

"Mhmm......" Since their mission was to examine the door, Zenith settled down to do just that. They barely noticed the trio of children who were playing nearby and went straight towards the damaged structure in question. "Let's see...there's a chip of an acute angle about one and three-quarter inches from the ground...And then there is an oblong-shaped hole..." Opening their ledger, Zenith drew up a quick sketch of the damaged portions that the structure had received, just to have a record of what it was like. If those from the Third are in charge of repairing it with their construction know-how, then it's better to have this on record so they don't overcharge the repair funds.

"Can you guys offer a moment of silence please?" That remark, predictably, was not in reference to the fact that they are in the final resting spot of many people, but rather that their train of thought has been interrupted. Zenith shot a daggerly glare back at Yenoia, after she shouted something quite loudly, something that sounded like "children". It was only then Zenith realized that the others seemed to be more focused on the random children at play rather than the job they were assigned to do.

"Aren't you being a total killjoy, let the kids be kids." Zenith leaned on the doorway while mulling over the sketches of the damage, speaking to the more serious man in their entourage. They walked over to the group of children with a casual smile on their face, in stark contrast to the either stern or dramatic adults nearby. "This place is fun, isn't it? It's so fun that even us adults come to play around here too." They bowed down slightly to meet at the kids' eye level. "...But adults are evil, they lie and cheat to get kids out of their way," Zenith continued while winking at the children, gesturing at the other adults present. "...and sometimes they even blame their mistakes on children like you!" They whispered to the kids, but still in a tone with dramatic flare rivals Yenoia's performance.

"Let me tell you a little secret, this place has an owner, and that owner isn't happy when things in here break...like that door over there." Zenith pointed at the doorway they were sent to examine. "And if the owner gets really really angry, they'll try to blame it on someone, maybe they'll even blame it on you and force you to pay them all your allowance, and then all your wages too! But I'm here to make sure that doesn't happen, and to do that I need to find out how the door really broke." Zenith smiled again, a beaming expression that was somewhat unsettling considering the backdrop, but cherry nonetheless. There was no guarantee that these kids knew anything about the door, but their inconspicuousness possibly could lend them the chance to see just what happened to the Labyrinth's doorway. Part of Zenith wanted to just write it off as weather erosion or a wild animal, but the last mission and recent occurrences warranted some extrac caution. "...Have you seen anyone...or anything around here that could break the door. It would break my heart to force all of you to pay so much money that you'll never get candy again, just to fix a crummy old door."

---

Location: Gate Graveyard

Interactions: Yenoia ( Dovinique ), Akseli ( Worthlessplebian )

Mentions: Group 4

 

[nios]

Scene 001

Pawn

Emersyn Illiro

Although the mission resulted in success, Emersyn retreated with her mind weighed by the mistakes she made throughout the night. As the adrenaline slowly eased away, her bottom lip dug between her teeth and sunken eyes turned downcast and avoidant as she fixated on what she could have done differently. The commotion from the other members of the party and even news of Knightmare's dire condition were dulled out as she became fixated on the irritable voice wielding harsh criticism like a mace. “Urgh, seriously,” she mumbled while rubbing her grimy fingers across her creased forehead. The moment she missed Valeria’s neck by a hair (no thanks to her mutt’s intervention) over casted everything she actually did correctly that night. It is possible Ematille’s order for her to fall back immediately (or more so the tone he used with her) had Emersyn in a panic, which led her to overanalyze her actions and dampened mood.

Upon her return to Arcana, she barely remembered dumping the remnants of the broken relic from her sack and onto a workbench. The pieces of glass she managed to scoop from the ground clattered against the well-cared for bench and the dented metal clanked pitifully. She could feel the tense aura emulating from Yenoia — no doubt there was disappointment and anger somewhere beneath that well-kept skin. However, Emersyn only blink tiredly and respond with a weakened shrug in response to her and the poor Third Faction member's (whom Emersyn could barely recall as fatigue was finally catching up to her) reaction to the misused relic. Fortunately for Emersyn who claimed she couldn't read or write, there was no way they could make her file a report. With that said, she sluggishly slipped away while humming softly to herself.

✦ ✦ ✦​

The rest of her memory was a bit mushy, including the mission debriefing. But alas, she managed to find her way to her new group and followed behind them to the next mission's location. To bathe, sink into clean sheets, and wear a fresh set of garbs were a calling Emersyn supposedly missed as she found herself in the same wrinkled, odor-riddled clothes as the night prior. Emersyn's guess was she didn't make it out of the labyrinth and knocked out somewhere until it was time to assemble with the others.

As they approached the aforementioned door, Emersyn fought exhaustion by munching on a cheese-dusted cocket. The cheap cracker-like bread filled the eerie atmosphere with its crackling and crisp snapping. She flinched at the commotion of children nearby — her nerves already on edge by being near the graveyard, Yenoia, and her paranoia was no help for mistaking the children for vengeful spirits. While Yenoia, Akseli, and Zenith chose to approach the children, Emersyn stepped closer to the broken door and perched herself alongside Akseli's kitbag and Leif. Emersyn resumed her snacking and she observed the Third Faction member as he worked. Her eyes would widen and her shoulders turned stiff with every fluctuation of Yenoia's voice. If the children weren't affected by her performance, it might please Yenoia to know it at least affected Emersyn. "Their curiosity will get them hurt someday," Emersyn spoke through crumb coated lips.

Curious by the damage done to the door, Emersyn's head would peer closer at it despite Leif currently occupying the space. Apparently prone to damaging Arcana property, Emersyn kept her hands to herself. "It doesn't look... too bad— want one?" Emersyn outstretched her arm to offer Magpie her half-eaten cracker.

#interaction: @Group04 A Murder Of Corviknight

#location: Broken Labyrinth Door

#mentions: Dovinique

Code by Nano