Fandom Planar Binding (CLOSED)

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"Please. It is hardly like that. In fact, I believe I just said it was refreshing." She finally looked over at the child. "Milady." She repeated under her breath. "Seriously? Tch." What a ridiculous title. "Correct, that is her name. I'm Tera. That one over there is Oily man. And you are...?" ​

The girl met Tera's stare with an look with an unblinking one of her own (actually, Tera couldn't recall seeing her blink period), expression unreadable as she met the question with silence for a few moments. Then she caught the arm of a passing clerk and pulled him in close, turning that stare onto him.

"I know your true name"

"I- what? Do you think me a demon? What do you mean-"

"Never-mind" she said immediately shoving him aside to turn back to the sith.

"My name is Wednesday. I'd say its a pleasure, but I spent the last eternity before this tumbling through a dark and madness inducing void of nothingness. Not sure any other pleasures are ever going to compare.

 

[MidwayLives]

Ink's growl just made her eyebrow raise slightly, catching her attention enough that she let her gaze fall on him next as she tried to make sense of him with the same halfhearted interest of a kid looking at a picture in their science textbook

Ink met her stare rather impassively.

He was more or less used to people staring at him. As though he were little more than a sideshow freak. It used to bother him, ah hell it still bothered him as an adult. It was more or less part of the reason why he despised how Zeke and other elementals like his brother wore glamours. To try and 'fit in' into normal society. It was all just an act, a costume and little more. If people could see what Zeke really looked like, they'd shun him just as they had Ink. But his brother knew that and tried anyhow. For unless there were simply no more normals to hide 'the big secret' from, elementals simply couldn't walk around as they pleased lest they be set upon by UPROAR-the state-wide authorities meant to crack down on open Gifted activity and UFUP(Union For United Protection)-a federal organization that posed as a social group but was really just a way for federal agents to try and keep tabs on any potentially powerful/irksome Gifted their agents may have spotted/come across. They'd either be picked up at a young age and forced into the unit or given a choice of having their family/friends/anyone they knew killed unless they joined.

Ink didn't care about any of that. He grew up in a UFUP unit in L.A in the 80s and was treated like family by all of them. He'd even been legally adopted by one of the members as his son. But every day when going to school, he had to try and make a glamour and it just wouldn't look right. Skin would be missing in spots, bone or muscle would be exposed where it shouldn't have been and Ink's yellow eye were still just as visible. He'd have to wear scarves, sunglasses, hoodies, etc. Just to try and fit into a world that'd never accept him.

And, yet, he didn't get that same kind of judgmental stare from this one. She wasn't looking at him at his expense. She seemed more curious than anything else and so, Ink quietly returned the stare, his feet idly kicking in the air behind him. No signs of blinking at all.

"Tryin to figure me out, kid?" He asked, bemusement tinging his words than anything hostile or negative.

"Correct, that is her name. I'm Tera. That one over there is Oily man. And you are...?"

Ink snarled.

"Grrrr...." His claws scraped against the floor. "It's not 'oily man.' It's Black Ink. My NAME is Black Ink." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Or at least as close to my real name as I feel like sharing."

Black Ink was what the government gave him after they took him in as an infant. Nobody but his makeshift family called him 'Damian.'

Nobody...

"My name is Wednesday. I'd say its a pleasure, but I spent the last eternity before this tumbling through a dark and madness inducing void of nothingness. Not sure any other pleasures are ever going to compare.

"Wednesday? Are Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday around here too....?"

He made himself laugh and really that's all that mattered.

 

[MyrtenRose]

The girl met Tera's stare with an look with an unblinking one of her own (actually, Tera couldn't recall seeing her blink period), expression unreadable as she met the question with silence for a few moments. Then she caught the arm of a passing clerk and pulled him in close, turning that stare onto him.

"I know your true name"

"I- what? Do you think me a demon? What do you mean-"

"Never-mind" she said immediately shoving him aside to turn back to the sith.

"My name is Wednesday. I'd say its a pleasure, but I spent the last eternity before this tumbling through a dark and madness inducing void of nothingness. Not sure any other pleasures are ever going to compare.

Her head tilted slightly in response to that unexpected exchange, unsure of what to make of it but she did not comment on it either. "Wednesday...splendid." She commented. The child was certainly an interesting one, to have enjoyed that trip. Now that she thought about it, Darth Mortis likely would have said something similar about the experience, this girl certainly reminded her of him in a few different ways.​

Ink snarled.

"Grrrr...." His claws scraped against the floor. "It's not 'oily man.' It's Black Ink. My NAME is Black Ink." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Or at least as close to my real name as I feel like sharing."

"I like my choice better." She replied, clearly getting some amusement from teasing the man.​

"Wednesday? Are Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday around here too....?"

He made himself laugh and really that's all that mattered.

"I don't believe anybody with a name as absurd as Black Ink should be throwing stones. Do you have a cousin? Perhaps Pink Paint? Or Yellow Dye?"​

 

[Indolent]

"She is fine, stranger, but you--"

"Good." That was all that needed to be said, the epitome of brevity where it applied to a conversation in his mind. Though it was more a result of the following--

Then Ink's massive fists came crashing down on its exposed rib cage, shattering the bones into dust and piercing the creature's desiccated heart. A black light came in a starburst that pierced the rubble and the clouds of dust as a horrific scream suddenly rippled through the streets, deep and sharp and full of anguish.

That didn't elicit a response from Kratos whatsoever, the wizened runnels that made up the wrinkles of his face that seemed to be affixed in a perpetual frown with the brows knitted together shifting not one iota as he maintained his stare upon Wednesday.

Corrin was going to be perfectly fine, shock and expectoration aside. The day was won in this one battle of what was a war to come, probably.

After all, another God laid dead as a piecemeal result of his handiwork.

It had been a few minutes later that a squad of pegasus riders, covered in flesh and armor rather than stone and death, had swooped over the scene of their battle and come to a landing. Questions were asked and answered; The conclave they had chosen as their heading had been annihilated at the start of the battle; consumed entirely in a burst of energy with the dreadhorde's arrival, leaving a perfect half circle crater as the only sight it had ever existed. But the conclave itself lived, as did the name they'd been hunting. The squadron didn't seem surprised that they group was seeking Jace Beleran, and they knew where he and what they called the 'Gatewatch' had been keeping their war counsel. Space on the back of the equine fliers was offered, Corrin's still unconscious form carefully tied around the waist of their best rider, and off they went.

As they flew over the city, they could see; fires still raged, but the dreadhorde no longer moved. Their thousands laid in haphazard repose across every street and rooftop. Some below gave them a wide berth, some came at their now immobile terrorizers with rocks, sticks, and anything else they could get their hands on, but whatever that light had been, it had signaled the end of this conflict

It was a large building they arrived at, what looked to be some sort of indoor market. People ran every which way, dealing with the hardest part of war; what came after. Sections were dedicated to wounded civilians and soldiers, staffed with healers whose hands were filled with the same energy that the girl had held in her hands, though to a magnitude less. the captain of the pegasus' squadron told them he would find someone to let Jace know they were looking for him; he'd want to know about the planeswalkers that had felled one of the god eternals. For now, Corrin was handed off to one of the others, and they were directed to a partially walled off section; what had formerly been some hawker's permanent stall. there were a few cots along the walls to the back, and a bit of blood still staining the floor, but little else of note. The black haired girl moved to one of pillars that bordered the archway to the rest of the market and leaned against it, eyes roving across the crowd of medics, logistic officers, confused nobles, and harried soldiers going about their work outside, apparently intending to wait in silence for whoever this other person was

He was no stranger to the winged beasts of burdens in his own world; dragons and griffons alike and more. In a way, he was disappointed that all he could usher to the front of his mind by way of memories were those of grisly circumstance. None that were happy. His impulse was to skulk away from the beasts, lest he inadvertently brought the past to fore and manifested them in reality. It was a tetchy ordeal he wrestled with, remorse niggling him with flashes of his most prominent mistakes at the forefront with swathes of smaller ones at the fringes, like a kaleidoscopic collage of horrors.

Perhaps Kratos might realize in time, his greatest regret might be he never allowed himself to enjoy things. Gaining a nugget of happiness had already come and gone with Faye, and his Son, though as it may have seemed different to the typical observer in how he defined happiness.

"If the lack of peasants bowing and scraping starts to give you anxiety, then I'm sure the Viking would be happy to give you some of your own sedatives. milady" the girl replied to the first part

"I'm no Norseman." Kratos rumbled, overhearing the diminutive girl's retort and electing to say that much and no more.

He observed what seemed to be a chaotic flow of traffic within the market but in short quickly fell into routes of familiarity adjusting to shifting circumstance as needed. It was a reminder of his heyday when he once was General, leading Sparta's armies in the first God of War's name. A reminder more so of the days before the barbarians fell upon Sparta, before the atrocities he committed while manacled to the whims of Olympus. No entity in the ranks was without purpose and there was a place for everything; everything was in its place, or would be, and it was largely because they wished to be. The magnanimity of the strangers' actions in aiding the wounded, recovering the fallen, and working to stymie the damage of the Dreadhorde was not lost on him. More so given that they helped strangers like he and the others that managed a fantastical feat in their eyes.

In his, it was a terrible one, the connotations obviously muddled by his own thoughts on the matter.

The girl met Tera's stare with an look with an unblinking one of her own (actually, Tera couldn't recall seeing her blink period), expression unreadable as she met the question with silence for a few moments. Then she caught the arm of a passing clerk and pulled him in close, turning that stare onto him.

"I know your true name"

"I- what? Do you think me a demon? What do you mean-"

"Never-mind" she said immediately shoving him aside to turn back to the sith.

"My name is Wednesday. I'd say its a pleasure, but I spent the last eternity before this tumbling through a dark and madness inducing void of nothingness. Not sure any other pleasures are ever going to compare.

Besides the soldiers in the proximity, Kratos noted everyone, exempting his fellow Planewalkers, gave him a wide berth where he loitered when they arrived. Just as well, it was to his liking. He stood inside the stall, though closer to the opening out into the market than to the cots. Especially nowhere near the stains of blood, whether it was a personal missive borne out of disgust or respect for the presumably slain here. Certainly the latter.

"Kratos." The Greek gave, sharing his name as something to refer to him by with some degree of accuracy as opposed to one flagrantly incorrect like Viking. "I failed to fend off a God and I found myself here. That will not happen again."

There was an undercurrent of annoyance to his demeanor, stemming from being made to wait for whomever it was they were waiting for, his impatience arising from the burning need to return home. Or at least, move closer to exacting his method for doing so, as was his single-minded focus...

Oftentimes, he found, it inadvertently involved accomplishing the objective of another individual before he was allowed inroads towards his own.

His facade almost broke with a scowl.

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Ink met her stare rather impassively.

He was more or less used to people staring at him. As though he were little more than a sideshow freak. It used to bother him, ah hell it still bothered him as an adult. It was more or less part of the reason why he despised how Zeke and other elementals like his brother wore glamours. To try and 'fit in' into normal society. It was all just an act, a costume and little more. If people could see what Zeke really looked like, they'd shun him just as they had Ink. But his brother knew that and tried anyhow. For unless there were simply no more normals to hide 'the big secret' from, elementals simply couldn't walk around as they pleased lest they be set upon by UPROAR-the state-wide authorities meant to crack down on open Gifted activity and UFUP(Union For United Protection)-a federal organization that posed as a social group but was really just a way for federal agents to try and keep tabs on any potentially powerful/irksome Gifted their agents may have spotted/come across. They'd either be picked up at a young age and forced into the unit or given a choice of having their family/friends/anyone they knew killed unless they joined.

Ink didn't care about any of that. He grew up in a UFUP unit in L.A in the 80s and was treated like family by all of them. He'd even been legally adopted by one of the members as his son. But every day when going to school, he had to try and make a glamour and it just wouldn't look right. Skin would be missing in spots, bone or muscle would be exposed where it shouldn't have been and Ink's yellow eye were still just as visible. He'd have to wear scarves, sunglasses, hoodies, etc. Just to try and fit into a world that'd never accept him.

And, yet, he didn't get that same kind of judgmental stare from this one. She wasn't looking at him at his expense. She seemed more curious than anything else and so, Ink quietly returned the stare, his feet idly kicking in the air behind him. No signs of blinking at all.

"Tryin to figure me out, kid?" He asked, bemusement tinging his words than anything hostile or negative.



Ink snarled.

"Grrrr...." His claws scraped against the floor. "It's not 'oily man.' It's Black Ink. My NAME is Black Ink." He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Or at least as close to my real name as I feel like sharing."

Black Ink was what the government gave him after they took him in as an infant. Nobody but his makeshift family called him 'Damian.'

Nobody...



"Wednesday? Are Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday around here too....?"

He made himself laugh and really that's all that mattered.

Her head tilted slightly in response to that unexpected exchange, unsure of what to make of it but she did not comment on it either. "Wednesday...splendid." She commented. The child was certainly an interesting one, to have enjoyed that trip. Now that she thought about it, Darth Mortis likely would have said something similar about the experience, this girl certainly reminded her of him in a few different ways.



"I like my choice better." She replied, clearly getting some amusement from teasing the man.



"I don't believe anybody with a name as absurd as Black Ink should be throwing stones. Do you have a cousin? Perhaps Pink Paint? Or Yellow Dye?"​

"I'll introduce you to the rest of the week once you give us the rest of the crayola marker brigade" she replied herself

"I'm no Norseman." Kratos rumbled, overhearing the diminutive girl's retort and electing to say that much and no more.

That got her to narrow her eyes slightly as the flicked over to the axe blade peeking out from behind his back and the runes thereon.

"Spoils of violence then?"

 

[MidwayLives]

"I don't believe anybody with a name as absurd as Black Ink should be throwing stones. Do you have a cousin? Perhaps Pink Paint? Or Yellow Dye?"

"I'll introduce you to the rest of the week once you give us the rest of the crayola marker brigade" she replied herself

Ink opened his mouth as though he were outraged.

But then he laughed.

"can't think of a way to say Tera's a lame name. Guess you got me there."

The surprise then rolled over onto his side, only deigning to look back at Wednesday.



"so....can you turn into a dragon or use weird and wild powers? Or is this just it."

 

[MyrtenRose]

"Kratos." The Greek gave, sharing his name as something to refer to him by with some degree of accuracy as opposed to one flagrantly incorrect like Viking. "I failed to fend off a God and I found myself here. That will not happen again."

"Ah. I know what that's like. My sympathies." ​

Ink opened his mouth as though he were outraged.

But then he laughed.

"can't think of a way to say Tera's a lame name. Guess you got me there."

"Good, because it is not lame." She would have made a show of bowing down extravagantly, were it not for the fact she could not, given the unconscious dragon she held. "Tempest, the Emperor's Wrath, the Alliance Commander, Darth Imperius. People have known me as many things, and I'm no longer proud of some of them." She spoke with a hint of regret for some of her life decisions. "Here, it's just Tera."

She fell silent for a few moments before adding: "What do you all figure will be first, our dragon waking up or the person we're waiting for arriving?"​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"Can you avoid leaving a slime trail wherever you go, or is this just it" Wednesday shot back. There wasn't any noticeable shift in her tone, but her shoulders were a bit stiffer as she clasped her hands together

Before that could devolve into any sort of further argument, there was a groan from Teras arms as the dragon princess curled against her chest plate, eyes tightening and fingers on one hand dragging against the armor, the tips shifting to claws that scraped against the material

 

[MyrtenRose]

"Can you avoid leaving a slime trail wherever you go, or is this just it" Wednesday shot back. There wasn't any noticeable shift in her tone, but her shoulders were a bit stiffer as she clasped her hands together

Before that could devolve into any sort of further argument, there was a groan from Teras arms as the dragon princess curled against her chest plate, eyes tightening and fingers on one hand dragging against the armor, the tips shifting to claws that scraped against the material

"...Nevermind what I just asked, I believe I know which would come first now." Tera remarked with concern. Unconscious, yet still on edge, just judging from body language and the uncomfortable to the ears claw scraping. She couldn't help but wince from it, especially in this close proximity. "Some thing is not right. Excuse me from this oh so riveting conversation." Her head moved from left to right, searching for the nearest unused cot before stepping that way to put Corrin down upon it. As far as she knew, this could have been a simple bad dream. It could have been that there really wasn't anything to be concerned about, but this was a strange new world and experience. Hell, she was relatively certain that the new girl had just been possessed for a minute back there. Not to mention what occurred when she last tapped into another's mindscape. The twisted feeling, the dark ancient presence, the awful sensation of nearly drowning in her own mind...she was not going to take anything for granted.

The Sith lord knelt down on the floor beside the cot as her eyes shut and she focused inward. She mentally reached out once more in a meditative state with the intent to join her mind with Corrin's own and cast a mental projection of herself into whatever the dragon princess was seeing in her sleep.​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Wednesday seemed bemused but obliged, falling silent as she watched Tera carry Corrin to the cot. The dragon's tossing and turning deepened, and after she almost blindly swiped Tera the black haired girl stepped over to hold her arms down.

"Don't know what you're doing, but do it quick" she grunted. "She's... wriggly."



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





Tera manifested a few feet above grand marble floors, a deft landing easy from that height. Her boots would’ve squelched if she had a physical form here; rain fell from a formless black sky above, the pillars of the room disappearing into the darkness rather than a ceiling. Faint rumbles of thunder that touched the edges of her hearing warned of a storm that was either to come or had begun to leave. A soft sobbing from a voice that had started to be familiar could be heard nearby; around a corner ahead of her, where the water puddling on the floor had streaks of red running through it.

The hall opened up into a massive throne room. Either Corrin’s dreams had exaggerated the size, or the architect had designed for an ego that rivaled gods; it could fit a small army, dominated by an arena-esque oval that sat in center of the room. Corrin was on her knees at the end nearest the throne, or at least something that looked like her. If it was her, she seemed stuck between her two forms; wings sprouted from a human back and horns from between blonde hair, and her arms ended in slightly too large claws, her eyes impossible to make out past the bangs atop her drooped head.

She was covered in blood.

It was apparent it wasn’t hers.

Behind her, its back snapped by a throne that had refused to move, was another dragon, something far more monstrous than Corrin’s elegant form. Covered in sickly yellow scales and with decrepit, rotted looking wings, one ‘eye’ was a bulbous, chitinous growth where a hundred separate little black eyes stared blankly into nothing, Corrin’s sword buried to the hilt in the side of its neck. To either side of Corrin were two figures dressed in black; a young girl with voluminous blonde hair interwoven delicately with pink ribbons, dressed in an extravagantly fluffy black dress with white and pink accents; her face was at peace, a sword strike so clean through her back it had almost hewn her in half. At her other side, a man dressed in black armor laid on his back, a silver circlet upon his stern brow covered partially by hair that matched the young girl’s. Somehow, Corrin’s sword was also there, standing solemnly straight with its tip planted firmly in the man’s heart, through to the floor. Completing the compass of death was a woman dressed in blue and white in front of Corrin; her dress, though elegant and regal, was of entirely different design than the others in the room; it was easy for Tera’s well traveled eyes to parse that she seemed to be from another culture entirely than the others in the room. Her wounds were stranger than the others as well; no blade or claw could have done it; to Tera, it almost looked as if the woman had been hit by a shrapnel bomb, puncture wounds dotting her form all across her chest.

The blood of all four of these corpses pooled around Corrin, swirling in a slow, unending circle that seemed to be enticing her downwards, as if it could suck her through the floor. Yet for now her focus was only on the last form; the one in her own arms. Dressed in a flowing pure white dress that bared midriff and limbs, with long slender gloves tinged blue at the edges, the woman had some of the longest hair that Tera had ever seen, brightest blue like an ocean in the sunlight. A dazzling spear laid at the edge of where her hand laid limply, and unlike the others, the only blood she was spilling was on her thigh and shoulder, where Corrin’s claws had dug in slightly from clutching too tightly.

She was dead all the same. No breath moved her chest, no light shown in her half open eyes.

That was the extent of what Tera saw. whatever grisly of events Corrin had relived, the play was already over; she had come in for the last act of the play. She felt no other presence assaulting her mind here, just hers and the dragon’s, and there seemed to be little Corrin intended to do other than sit there, clutching the one her arms in anguished disbelief-

At least until Tera took another step.

Her head snapped up, and the look in her eyes was feral. Sharpened teeth gnashed against each other as she gave off a throaty growl, her grip on the girl in her arms tightening even more as she hunched over her protectively. Her eyes burned with a darker red than Tera remembered, the gaze hazy and half focused, and the tail that had laid dormant lashed violently against the ground with enough force to break the massive tiling as her wings flared. It was a bestial anger, one Tera could easier compare to a wounded and cornered krayt dragon than a berserker’s ire. She locked eyes with the sith, piercing her dreamform with all the weight of her focus as the thunder began to deepen once more.

 

[MyrtenRose]

At first glance upon landing, the grand floor beneath her feet reminded her of her youth among the elite of the Kaas City metropolis, but that was where the familiarities ceased. It was covered over in water. Rain fell thick as she raised her head to peer up into the empty darkness above her, the place where a ceiling normally would have resided, and she could just barely manage to hear the sound of thunder on the horizon. As settings for wretched nightmares went, she was already leaning towards giving this one top marks. It was very cinematic, even. It would have been right at home on the Holonet, with several holoperformers acting out a fear-inducing film. The Sith started to step forward, and only then she noticed that the water ahead was thick with red as well.

Blood. Combat with lightsabers and blasters meant she didn't often see such as often as one might expect from someone who's life had been so filled with fighting, but she recognized it, nevertheless. She followed it around the corner, stepping through and emerging into a truly massive throne room, one that dwarfed even the excessive opulence of Valkorion's Eternal Empire of Zakuul, at least in size. Whoever commanded from here would have an ego to rival his, surely. Corrin was there in the distance, or at least that looked like her...well. A her caught between two natures. The sight of her, and just around her, cemented it. This atmosphere definitely received top marks from her in the wretched nightmare aesthetic department. The dragon princess she'd met was stained with blood, and corpses lay around her. Another dragon, a blade buried deep in its' lifeless neck. A girl dressed magnificently, strangely at peace despite the violent nature of her demise, a miracle to still be in one piece. Another in dark armor, with another sword for his heart. Yet another stood apart from the others, not only in dress but...it appeared that she had met her end at the wrong end of a crude landmine or bomb.

And finally, the one in those half bestial arms, with a dress that shined in the color of the moon and hair that matched the oceans of Scarif. Corrin clung tightly, far too tightly. It was obvious that could only be someone she loved. Perhaps even someone she loved above all others. Tera's frown deepened as her sympathy grew. She knew what it was like to lose friends, and allies, and worst of all...the Sith's troubled gaze dropped to the red water for a moment, with a slight shake of the head following as she forced that pain in her heart out of mind. Jedi cast themselves off from attachments as a rule. They did what they could to purge themselves of emotions, never wanting their feelings to cloud their judgement. But for a Sith, emotions were everything. It was their power, to let themselves feel. Anger, yes, and hatred ran deep in many Sith, but what so many failed to realize was that love was there too. Passion and happiness and joy and all of it. Yet, even though she felt she had some understanding of the general feeling she could only imagine Corrin to be going through, she did not have the full picture of what transpired here.

It was that recognition that stayed her tongue. She had no clue yet what to say, so she stayed silent. However, she felt she would have something by the time she got over there, so she started forward in her stride--

--and immediately stopped.

The Corrin of this nightmare apparently did not appreciate that, judging from the fierce fury in the glare that she brought to bear upon the Sith. A wary frown emerged upon the face of the actual Tera, kneeling beside the cot, and a moment later the mental projection of herself reached for her belt where her lightsabers hung. Not that she could use them here, or even intended to, but she made a show of lightly tossing the phantom projections of her weapons into the water on the floor as well as holding up her hands afterwards in a gesture to reflect that she meant no harm.

"Corrin, I realize we just met not long ago, but you recognize me, yes? You seemed troubled, out there." She stated slowly and just as slowly nodded upwards, for lack of a better direction to indicate outside this horrific dream. "Thought I could help get you out of it. I've been in others' mindscapes before." Tera fell quiet once again, cautiously observing to see how she responded.​

 

[MidwayLives]

"Good, because it is not lame." She would have made a show of bowing down extravagantly, were it not for the fact she could not, given the unconscious dragon she held. "Tempest, the Emperor's Wrath, the Alliance Commander, Darth Imperius. People have known me as many things, and I'm no longer proud of some of them." She spoke with a hint of regret for some of her life decisions. "Here, it's just Tera."

Ink counted off on his fingers, physically and audibly. "One, two, three, four....Four titles?? You were either a real piece of work or you just managed to leave one hell of an impression on a LOT of people." Laying his head back down and idly skritching at the floor, he listfully shrugged his shoulders. "I have a real name. The one my bio-parents gave me. When they wanted me. Before they decided I wasn't what they'd been hoping for. Black Ink is just a touch easier to swallow. My..." Ink hesitated, his entire body appearing to grind to a halt at the thought of his older brother.

The one who'd tried to kill him in cold blood.

"...Folks call my brother 'The Man on Whom The Rain Never Lands."

Ink let that sit for a moment and scratched at his ear. "...I didn't get it at first but they meant it literally. Raindrops just freeze around him. Fall to the ground without even touching him."

el"Can you avoid leaving a slime trail wherever you go, or is this just it" Wednesday shot back. There wasn't any noticeable shift in her tone, but her shoulders were a bit stiffer as she clasped her hands together

"Heyheyheyhey! It wouldn't be a 'slime trail.' It'd be an oil slick." Ink corrected before lining up Wednesday as though he were lining up a shot with a camera. "I gotta admit, kid. You've made a pretty good first impression. Nice aesthetic didn't try to kill us..." Ink's ears wiggled. "And a pleasant attitude. Nice job."

Before that could devolve into any sort of further argument, there was a groan from Teras arms as the dragon princess curled against her chest plate, eyes tightening and fingers on one hand dragging against the armor, the tips shifting to claws that scraped against the material

"Corrin!" Ink howled as he immediately hopped onto his hands and feet, glancing over in the direction of the dragon girl. The one who'd gone out of her way to save him from what, even if it hadn't killed him would have still likely been incredibly painful, without him even thinking to ask or yell for help. That went a long way with a guy like him...and with a guy who looked like him.

"...Nevermind what I just asked, I believe I know which would come first now." Tera remarked with concern. Unconscious, yet still on edge, just judging from body language and the uncomfortable to the ears claw scraping. She couldn't help but wince from it, especially in this close proximity. "Some thing is not right. Excuse me from this oh so riveting conversation." Her head moved from left to right, searching for the nearest unused cot before stepping that way to put Corrin down upon it. As far as she knew, this could have been a simple bad dream. It could have been that there really wasn't anything to be concerned about, but this was a strange new world and experience. Hell, she was relatively certain that the new girl had just been possessed for a minute back there. Not to mention what occurred when she last tapped into another's mindscape. The twisted feeling, the dark ancient presence, the awful sensation of nearly drowning in her own mind...she was not going to take anything for granted.

The Sith lord knelt down on the floor beside the cot as her eyes shut and she focused inward. She mentally reached out once more in a meditative state with the intent to join her mind with Corrin's own and cast a mental projection of herself into whatever the dragon princess was seeing in her sleep.

Ink scratched the side of his head, mostly out of confusion. But also because he had an itch there. Probably borne out of sudden stress and worry.

"...mental types. make my skin crawl."

Wednesday seemed bemused but obliged, falling silent as she watched Tera carry Corrin to the cot. The dragon's tossing and turning deepened, and after she almost blindly swiped Tera the black haired girl stepped over to hold her arms down.

"Don't know what you're doing, but do it quick" she grunted. "She's... wriggly."

"I'll help ya..."

Ink lurched over and placed both claws around Corrin's ankles to try and keep her from kicking out.

"I'm not much for healing or mind mojo myself. But glad that I can do a little more than sit around."

Though, if he were being frank, he felt much more at home devouring something or someone. Just felt familar to him was all!

 

[Indolent]

That got her to narrow her eyes slightly as the flicked over to the axe blade peeking out from behind his back and the runes thereon.

"Spoils of violence then?"

"A gift, from my wife. But you are not wrong; we met first as enemies." Kratos replied in a flat tone, his monotonity perhaps the only contender to Wednesday's own emotionless retorts within the group. There was the slightest tilt of the head, skewing to the right with the shift of his eyes as he started to glance over the shoulder; the axe shifted in place in response to the minute movement and Kratos decided he was content enough, knowing that it was there.

Ink opened his mouth as though he were outraged.

But then he laughed.

"can't think of a way to say Tera's a lame name. Guess you got me there."

The surprise then rolled over onto his side, only deigning to look back at Wednesday.

View attachment 1053341

"so....can you turn into a dragon or use weird and wild powers? Or is this just it."

"Titles carry weight, when earned. I do not care for these; they have no weight here. They mean nothing here, and always will until they are earned."

The baritone bluntness may have come across as a harsh remark on the absolutely riveting conversation, an insult in some form to the Sith. It was more a recognition of the same thing Tera hit a note on when she realized that no one here know a thing about her nor the concepts she embodied. He was glad for it. While it wasn't common knowledge back home save for the select few that knew of Kratos in passing, here it meant no one knew of the Ghost of Sparta and the tragedy he wrought in a distant plane, in a distant era.

Conversely... If he had other titles he could confess pride in, he still would have never mentioned them all the same.

She fell silent for a few moments before adding: "What do you all figure will be first, our dragon waking up or the person we're waiting for arriving?"

"Waiting." Came his answer, his tone shifting to one of subdued annoyance--

Wednesday seemed bemused but obliged, falling silent as she watched Tera carry Corrin to the cot. The dragon's tossing and turning deepened, and after she almost blindly swiped Tera the black haired girl stepped over to hold her arms down.

"Don't know what you're doing, but do it quick" she grunted. "She's... wriggly."

"Move." Kratos uttered in a way that would normally have brooked no argument. That never really went over successfully with a few back home and likely would not with the likes of these, Wednesday and all. Nonetheless, he had the foresight to explain.

"If she changes form, she may harm you. She will not hurt me; and if she injures herself, she will need healing."

And he was exceptionally skilled at subduing wriggly individuals.

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"A gift, from my wife. But you are not wrong; we met first as enemies." Kratos replied in a flat tone, his monotonity perhaps the only contender to Wednesday's own emotionless retorts within the group. There was the slightest tilt of the head, skewing to the right with the shift of his eyes as he started to glance over the shoulder; the axe shifted in place in response to the minute movement and Kratos decided he was content enough, knowing that it was there.



"Titles carry weight, when earned. I do not care for these; they have no weight here. They mean nothing here, and always will until they are earned."

The baritone bluntness may have come across as a harsh remark on the absolutely riveting conversation, an insult in some form to the Sith. It was more a recognition of the same thing Tera hit a note on when she realized that no one here know a thing about her nor the concepts she embodied. He was glad for it. While it wasn't common knowledge back home save for the select few that knew of Kratos in passing, here it meant no one knew of the Ghost of Sparta and the tragedy he wrought in a distant plane, in a distant era.

Conversely... If he had other titles he could confess pride in, he still would have never mentioned them all the same.



"Waiting." Came his answer, his tone shifting to one of subdued annoyance--



"Move." Kratos uttered in a way that would normally have brooked no argument. That never really went over successfully with a few back home and likely would not with the likes of these, Wednesday and all. Nonetheless, he had the foresight to explain.

"If she changes form, she may harm you. She will not hurt me; and if she injures herself, she will need healing."

And he was exceptionally skilled at subduing wriggly individuals.

Apparently surprisingly, Wednesday was quick to relinquish her task to Kratos; she may have been no slouch in a fight, but she wasn't equipped to wrestle with half dragons in the muscle department, and cheating with something sharp would defeat the purpose all things considered. She backed up, weaving backwards from the stray lash of a claw with eyes widened slightly in interest before the spartan took over with firm grip.

--and immediately stopped.

The Corrin of this nightmare apparently did not appreciate that, judging from the fierce fury in the glare that she brought to bear upon the Sith. A wary frown emerged upon the face of the actual Tera, kneeling beside the cot, and a moment later the mental projection of herself reached for her belt where her lightsabers hung. Not that she could use them here, or even intended to, but she made a show of lightly tossing the phantom projections of her weapons into the water on the floor as well as holding up her hands afterwards in a gesture to reflect that she meant no harm.

"Corrin, I realize we just met not long ago, but you recognize me, yes? You seemed troubled, out there." She stated slowly and just as slowly nodded upwards, for lack of a better direction to indicate outside this horrific dream. "Thought I could help get you out of it. I've been in others' mindscapes before." Tera fell quiet once again, cautiously observing to see how she responded.

The dragon hissed as Tera's hands reached for the lightsaber handles, tensing further, but her voice made Corrin's hazy red eyes flicker for a moment. part of her face was halfway between transformation, her jaw a bit too wide on one side, scales emerging from skin with increasing frequency along the side of her cheek, with teeth sharp as razors. The voice the visage made sounded off, Corrin but alien.

"...Shouldn't... be here. Not safe. No one near me... safe...."

She slowly lowered back to her knees, breath starting to slow from its heavy heaves.

 

[MyrtenRose]

The dragon hissed as Tera's hands reached for the lightsaber handles, tensing further, but her voice made Corrin's hazy red eyes flicker for a moment. part of her face was halfway between transformation, her jaw a bit too wide on one side, scales emerging from skin with increasing frequency along the side of her cheek, with teeth sharp as razors. The voice the visage made sounded off, Corrin but alien.

"...Shouldn't... be here. Not safe. No one near me... safe...."

She slowly lowered back to her knees, breath starting to slow from its heavy heaves.

"Heh. You know, if I had to guess, I'd say roughly half of my life has been spent in places that were not safe. Quite the opposite, in fact. Yet I'm still here. What's more, I believe Ink and several people out there would disagree. You saved them. But...." There was a long pause as Tera's stare moved from Corrin towards the one in her arms. "That was someone you loved, wasn't it? A fierce love, judging from how protective you are of her. Maybe someone you loved more than anyone else. And you blame yourself for..." She left that unsaid but with every other word spoken, the more sadness emerged in her voice. She was painfully familiar with such a situation. Her gaze drifted back up to Corrin directly.

She did not bother asking if she was right. She was more than a 100 percent confident that she was indeed right, confident in the way Sith typically are. "...What's her name?"​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"Heh. You know, if I had to guess, I'd say roughly half of my life has been spent in places that were not safe. Quite the opposite, in fact. Yet I'm still here. What's more, I believe Ink and several people out there would disagree. You saved them. But...." There was a long pause as Tera's stare moved from Corrin towards the one in her arms. "That was someone you loved, wasn't it? A fierce love, judging from how protective you are of her. Maybe someone you loved more than anyone else. And you blame yourself for..." She left that unsaid but with every other word spoken, the more sadness emerged in her voice. She was painfully familiar with such a situation. Her gaze drifted back up to Corrin directly.

She did not bother asking if she was right. She was more than a 100 percent confident that she was indeed right, confident in the way Sith typically are. "...What's her name?"​

"W. W-was....?"

Was.

It was obvious to anyone who was looking at this scene that the girl in Corrin's arms wasn't alive. It should've been obvious to Corrin as well; This was her mind, the soulless body literally in her hands. But whatever truth the subconscious part of her mind was trying to force her to accept, the piece that was giving form to the girl in front of Tera stumbled over that single syllable like a toddler still learning her words.

The throne room rumbled. Her grip tightened even more, Tera hearing the sound of claw scratching against bone. Corrin's shoulders tensed so hard she was shivering, and the thunder started to pick back up in the sky above, lighting arcing overhead in strange patterns.

"No."

She spat the word with furious ire, her voice barely recognizable as her own as it curled deep and echoed with the thunder above. Glass shattered from the windows as her horns grew sharper and wings expanded.

"No. No. NO! SHE-"

Tera didn't see it happen, because there wasn't anything to see happen; The nightmare pivoted the scene as violently on Corrin as it did her. One moment Corrin was expanding, skin burning red, sky rumbling, and the next she was flat on her back; all her draconic features gone, back to the girl who's strangest features were the slightly pointed ears and red eyes that stared blankly up at what was above her;

The corpse; arms still bleeding, shredded to ribbons by draconic talons, but still gracefully leveling a spear against Corrin's neck with a wholly neutral stare, golden eyes muted in the darkness as she said a single word.

"Yes"

The spear pressed forward

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

Tera found no more dream to be in; she was back in the market stall as Corrin let out a strangled gasp and tried to shoot upwards, only to find she couldn't. She thrashed in a panic, and Ink felt sudden absence in his chest as one her legs suddenly became a spear of dragon flesh, passing right through him and skewering itself against the stone wall opposite her.

She started to process where she was, eyes swinging this way and that, before she glanced downwards and saw what she'd done with a horrified gasp. "O-Oh gods, are you okay?!" she sputtered as she let her foot transform into something human once more.

"I don't remember her dragon form having spear legs." some girl Corrin couldn't place outside of some vague sensation of pain commented from the back.

 

[MidwayLives]

Tera found no more dream to be in; she was back in the market stall as Corrin let out a strangled gasp and tried to shoot upwards, only to find she couldn't.

"Corrin!" Ink exclaimed, happily, as he went to loosen his grip on Corrin's feet...

"Wait, wait! Hold on! What happened to you???"

Ink didn't get any answers.

She thrashed in a panic, and Ink felt sudden absence in his chest as one her legs suddenly became a spear of dragon flesh, passing right through him and skewering itself against the stone wall opposite her.

*SPLLLLLURT*

"..."

Ink glanced down and saw the spear tearing through his t-shirt and going through his chest and again, tearing it's way out through the back of his jacket. Ink growled and violently ripped himself free from the implement in his chest, stepping off to the side and letting the bladed edge tear through his side leaving it looking as though he'd been stabbed and then someone had taken a couple of test swings at his side in an attempt to try and cut him in half with how lopsided he looked afterwards. Though, health-wise Ink appeared to be none the worse for wear. Unless you counted the look of grief as he looked at the significantly sized hole in his black leather duster.

"my shirt....my jacket...."

She started to process where she was, eyes swinging this way and that, before she glanced downwards and saw what she'd done with a horrified gasp. "O-Oh gods, are you okay?!" she sputtered as she let her foot transform into something human once more.

"Am I ok?!"

Ink placed two hands on Corrin's shoulders and looked her right in the eyes.

"Look at what you DID!"

Oily flesh pulled itself back together within seconds, though for a brief moment, you could have seen the view through Ink's chest. Placing one hand on his hip to steady himself, he reattached his side from where he'd been hanging kind of loose after slicing into his torso with Corrin's leg.

"I can fix up my shirt if I exert myself, but I can't DO jackets, Corrin! Jackets, hats, SHOES! They're all too complicated for me to try re-making! This was my favorite jacket and you shiskebabed it! I've gotten blown up, I nearly had a giant zombie crash on me recently, was buried under piles of rubble and kept this thing nice and pristine and you just....you...agh!" He yelled before looking down at Corrin's leg now that it was human again. He reached down and poked the sole of her foot with one of his claws, holding it there while he spoke. "I don't know what the hell happened beyond weird TK stuff but you better keep your feet, human, dragon, in between, whatever the hell away from me." He gave another SHARP jab with his claw against Corrin's foot before taking a step back and exhaling, letting out a deeeeep breath. "....but, i guess the question that's on my mind right now is...are YOU ok?"

 

[MyrtenRose]

"...I'm afraid it se--" She started to say, but her voice was eclipsed by everything else as the atmosphere around them grew more...extreme. The room itself started to rumble, the thunder returning in full force and echoing in tandem with the dragon's own fierce cries of denial. Loud enough that glass shattered all around them, and before she could say or do anything else, she was thrust right out of the dreamland in an abrupt end. One moment she was there, looking over in sympathy and the next she opened her eyes to the sight of the marketplace and the others. She rose back up to her feet in an instant, and her right arm was already outstretched by the time she was standing again--​

"I can fix up my shirt if I exert myself, but I can't DO jackets, Corrin! Jackets, hats, SHOES! They're all too complicated for me to try re-making! This was my favorite jacket and you shiskebabed it! I've gotten blown up, I nearly had a giant zombie crash on me recently, was buried under piles of rubble and kept this thing nice and pristine and you just....you...agh!" He yelled before looking down at Corrin's leg now that it was human again. He reached down and--

--if only to forcibly pull Ink away from Corrin with a swift exertion of the force before he could jab her at all. She kept him suspended in the air, glaring at him with narrowed eyes."I suggest you keep calm now." She stated it more as an order than a suggestion, however. Her expression shifted to a more disbelieving look after that was delivered. "I mean, seriously." She shook her head. "We end up on a mystery world after being...I'm still not entirely certain how to describe what we experienced in getting here, but whatever you would call it, we ended up here, separated from the people we know and surrounded by strangers, near instantly come under attack by legions of enemies, let's not even get started on the giant one that nearly killed her, and we have no real answers yet, or any idea how to return, BUT the thing you're most upset about, is your stupid piece of clothing?!" She raised up the arm that she wasn't currently using to keep Ink in the air, gesturing out to clearly express her annoyance with the man.

"She got herself hurt badly aiding you. Try to remember that, and get a grip on what really matters right now." Tera growled before releasing her own more literal grip and letting Ink drop to the floor before she stepped closer to Corrin herself. "Speaking of which, no no, the question is, are you alright?" The Sith addressed the dragon.​

 

[MidwayLives]

Feeling himself pulled off his feet, Ink extended his claws and feet to hook themselves in and gritted his teeth. On the verge of snarling as Tera lectured at him.

Once she was done, he leaned down and retracted his limbs and skulked off on all fours. His jacket slipping off his shoulders once he'd gotten a fair distance away though the group was still within sight of view. "Grrr...." He'd owed Corrin for what she'd did for him back with the zombie, he hadn't forgotten that. But he'd get mad about whatever he damn well pleased and no damnable mental was gonna tell him otherwise.

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

The half dragon winced as Ink snapped at her, then sat up straight as Tera intervened. "H-hey, wait! Its fine, he's right. I should have more control than that by now, if anyone else had been standing there then... well it would've been worse than a jacket. Sorry ink." she murmured as she pulled her knees up to her chest, as if holding the legs there would keep them from any more impalements.

As Tera stepped closer though, Corrin had to glance the other way, voice quiet and terse as she mumbled.

"... I'm fine. Where are we though?" She asked, a bit louder, though still staring at the side of the wall rather than at anyone else "What happened? Last I remembered was... was...."

"Your leg snapping like a toothpick and piercing your femerol artery, spraying dragon blood everywhere and putting you scant few inches from the release of death?"

Corrin jolted at the new voice, except it didn't feel entirely new; something about it tickled the hazy side of her brain, She glanced up, and likewise, Wednesday's face also brought some twinge of recognition to her mind, and a twinge of pain to her leg, one hand subconsciously sliding down to rub the part of her thigh that had a bone potruding from it not long ago.

"Yea.... that. Um. Hi."

Wednesday met the greeting with cold silence.

"...my name is C-"

"Corrin, yes. Everyone was yelling at you a few seconds ago."

A flicker of frustration crossed Corrin's face, but before she could reply, the curtain that laid over the market stall slid open.

"You five are the planeswalkers that defeated Rhonas?"

A man stood there, one of the guardsmen in half plate bedecked in the orange and golds of the sun. He glanced over them before waving for them to follow. "Lord Jace can see you now; he was retrieving a few others he thinks may be related."

Corrin glanced back over to Wednesday, found the girl still staring at her unblinkingly, and that was enough reason for her to test her leg against the stone floor before she moved to follow the newcomer. It seemed like wherever they were, it was where the person they'd set off from that first town square to find was.

Wednesday fell in step right behind her

 

[MidwayLives]

The half dragon winced as Ink snapped at her, then sat up straight as Tera intervened. "H-hey, wait! Its fine, he's right. I should have more control than that by now, if anyone else had been standing there then... well it would've been worse than a jacket. Sorry ink." she murmured as she pulled her knees up to her chest, as if holding the legs there would keep them from any more impalements.

Ink growled and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, not standing up from his primal position.

"s'ok."

A flicker of frustration crossed Corrin's face, but before she could reply, the curtain that laid over the market stall slid open.

"You five are the planeswalkers that defeated Rhonas?"

"i'm the one who caved it's head in...."

Ink mumbled, more or less, under his breath.

He didn't want that mental one using her freaky mind powers on or anywhere near him again.

Being lifted off his feet as though he were a kitten being picked up by the scruff of its neck infuriated him. No, that was putting it too generously. It made him downright furious.

If he'd had have half a mind, he'd have ripped her head off for doing that to him. Then eaten it.

.... But in spite of his anger, he exhaled, and tapped his claws along the floor. Getting angry had lead to him getting arrogant and that.... lead to him being found barely alive floating in a pond when Zeke had found him.

Not again.

A man stood there, one of the guardsmen in half plate bedecked in the orange and golds of the sun. He glanced over them before waving for them to follow. "Lord Jace can see you now; he was retrieving a few others he thinks may be related."

Corrin glanced back over to Wednesday, found the girl still staring at her unblinkingly, and that was enough reason for her to test her leg against the stone floor before she moved to follow the newcomer. It seemed like wherever they were, it was where the person they'd set off from that first town square to find was.

Wednesday fell in step right behind her

"'bout time..."

Ink moved along on all fours, the tail end of his jacket swaying from side to side as he moved. His current posture not at all dissimilar to a big cat stalking across the land, predatory energy reeking off his every step as he gnashed his teeth and glared at anyone who got too close to him.

 

[MyrtenRose]

As Tera stepped closer though, Corrin had to glance the other way, voice quiet and terse as she mumbled.

"... I'm fine. Where are we though?" She asked, a bit louder, though still staring at the side of the wall rather than at anyone else "What happened? Last I remembered was... was...."

Her eyebrow raised in response to that. She didn't buy that quiet declaration at all, but she did not press Corrin on it. If the dragon girl ever wished to discuss what she had seen in that nightmare experience, that was up to her. If not...Tera understood why Corrin would not wish to do so. It was something she understood all too well. "If you say so." was all the Sith remarked towards Corrin, stepping away from the cot and giving her some space. The rage she could feel emanating from Ink was ignored entirely, her attention turning towards the curtain seconds before it slid open, as she felt someone was approaching.​

"You five are the planeswalkers that defeated Rhonas?"

A man stood there, one of the guardsmen in half plate bedecked in the orange and golds of the sun. He glanced over them before waving for them to follow. "Lord Jace can see you now; he was retrieving a few others he thinks may be related."

That word again...planeswalker. That was the question most on her mind, what that even was. What it meant to be one. All that and more. It was about time she got some answers.​

Corrin glanced back over to Wednesday, found the girl still staring at her unblinkingly, and that was enough reason for her to test her leg against the stone floor before she moved to follow the newcomer. It seemed like wherever they were, it was where the person they'd set off from that first town square to find was.

Wednesday fell in step right behind her

"'bout time..."

Ink moved along on all fours, the tail end of his jacket swaying from side to side as he moved. His current posture not at all dissimilar to a big cat stalking across the land, predatory energy reeking off his every step as he gnashed his teeth and glared at anyone who got too close to him.

She fell in line behind the three of them, her arms crossed and mind deep in thought as she walked along. The Sith barely paid any attention to anybody they passed by.​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

The trip wasn’t a long one, though a bit winding; ‘below ground, in case the eternals decided to firebomb the place’ was what their guide explained as he led them through a set of stairs to what had been a small basement before a cadre of planeswalkers at war. The walls had all been destroyed and replaced with vinework, particularly thick pieces of greenery serving as pillars to hold up the ceiling above as the market turned base of operations thundered with footsteps. People were everywhere here as well, though less than the throng upstairs, and a few rooms hidden with thick curtains of green had been sectioned off.

It was two one of those that the soldier led them to, gesturing inside before his head lolled for a moment before he recovered and glanced around, looked at the group in confusion, and wandered off in a bit of a daze.

“Come in” came a calm voice from inside.

Within was a war room; something almost all of them had seen enough times in their life to understand what it was, no matter how strange the construction; vines had curled even thicker to form a flat, rectangular surface in which a silvery liquid had been poured, the liquid shimmering as it rose into shapes that created an extremely detailed replica of what they could only assume was the city above; it showed towering spires and market squares, and the tiniest pinpricks of light moved through the streets, hundreds of thousands, if not millions of them.

There were three people in the room; Seated at the back, directly opposite them, was a man in a blue robe. The hood for it was down, showing his brown, tousled hair and bright blue eyes that glowed slightly, fair skin and a lithe build, a simple white shirt and brown trousers completing his look as he sat with one leg crossed the other and his hands together, clearly at ease with the situation.

He was also in their thoughts.

Only one person was immediately aware of it; Even Corrin, who had experienced telepaths on her own plane, didn’t even register his presence. There wasn’t any malice to the push into their minds so much as an automatic reaction, and the moment he felt that Tera’s own powers could feel him the sensation retreated immediately and he gave her a apologetic, wry smirk.

The one seated at the left was a young girl, seemingly even younger than Wednesday, and the one on the right didn’t appear human at all; his skin was coated in ice with yellow bits of light where his eyes should’ve been. Immediately recognizable to one of their party

Except that neither Ink nor the newcomer could hear or see the other.

"I hear you've been looking for me" The man said simply. "Just as well; after I found these two, I think its important that we talk"

 

[MyrtenRose]

As she stood there, she stared down at the barely defeated creature before her. She wanted to kick it while it was down, a really hard kick even...but she did not have it in her to do so. She was exhausted from all the effort she put into the unexpected fight, and pretty wounded from it as well, and she was not able to even move a muscle in her kicking leg before she fell backwards. Cinder was content to just lie there for a minute, or five, or however many, really. She needed the breather.

Her thoughts raced as she laid there. This was not the worst day she'd ever had in her life, but it was the worst one she'd had in months.

----------

A little earlier...

Spoiler: Hi, yeah that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here

She had no idea how she ended up here. She remembered a fight with her arrogant, conceited, and definitely pigheaded team leader, and slamming a door in his face, and then she thought she jumped onto a couch or something. She wasn't sure if she fell asleep for a nap or what, but the next thing she knew, she was falling. Endlessly. She didn't know how, she didn't know where, she couldn't even put words to all the things she saw and felt around her. It was.......honestly terrifying.

But then, after who knows how long because she sure couldn't put a time to it, there was land. A world spreading out below her. A town, things she could recognize, and that was a relief. But it was a rather short lived relief. She was still falling, and as she fell, she spun her arms about wildly. She was still unsure about how to use the maiden gift she'd been granted by random fate, but she did her best to reach in and call up some fire jets to slow her down or a gust of air to reach up and cushion her fall. And...absolutely nothing happened. It was just useless flailing.

Oh come on, no no no, fire mode, engage! Wind I summon you! Up up and away!! Come on come on come on--

She hit the ground hard, the first initial loud thud followed by a few more thuds as she bounced along the road a couple times, with the final bounce ending with her facedown upon the stony ground. "...Owwwww." She muttered, muffled, lying there in pain. She was glad that Salem was not there to judge that landing strategy, or rather, failed execution at a landing strategy.

Cinder pressed both palms against the ground and pushed herself up to stand, and no sooner had she done so did she hear heavy footfalls behind her. She turned her head to look and nearly pissed herself in fright. A rather large creature was right there, rushing at her, and before she could do anything beyond flinch in alarm, it slammed into her full force and set her flying and further skidding along the road, but she quickly recovered, pushing off the street with a single hand and ending her momentum with a backflip.

"What the hell?!?" She roared at the thing, glaring at it with more anger than she'd ever directed at Arthur. She didn't know what it was, it certainly didn't look like any grimm she'd ever seen, and it was armed, and armored. But whatever it was, it clearly wanted to hurt her. After all that, she was more than willing to give it a fight. "Alright then you horny bas--"

It was charging again. She drew her bow in an instant, immediately firing a trio of arrows at the thing that it swatted down with its own weapon, much to her frustration. This was gonna hurt.

----------

She had been correct. It had hurt. A lot. Her aura was depleted. A thin gash ran along her forehead, deeper cuts across both arms at various places, bruises she was going to feel for quite some time on her left shoulder and her lower back, there was a burn on her leg and her knuckles were bloodied. The monster didn't look so good either, with like a dozen different obsidian weapons sticking out of it at various spots. A couple arrows, a spear, one or two swords, some daggers, even a kukri. In short, not a great time. That thing knew how to fight. It could have written a book on combat, it was so skilled. That was no grimm, that was for sure. It took everything she had and then some to put it down for the count. She laid there for minutes, groaning, wishing her aura would return faster to ease her wounds and trying to recover breath.

That was about when she was approached by someone less hostile. Thankfully. Gave helpful directions, too!

----------

Now some time later, here was the rest of them. "Yes, answers please, at last, thanks! I've been having a very wild, super not great day!!!"​

 

[MidwayLives]

The base that the general in charge of dealing with the 'Crusader Crisis, Anthony Westlake had secured up in Oneonta, New York, was in ruins.

All before the so-called terrorists had even made it there.

Gigantic pillars of ice erupted from practically every inch of the grounds. Tearing through buildings, vehicles, and even soldiers. Tanks were left frozen solid and inoperable. Others had been flipped over or had their guns ripped free from the turret. Half of the ground was frozen over and were it not for the abundance of mutilated corpses and fresh blood lain across the ice, it would have looked almost picturesque. Something out of a fantasy land. In the eyes of the soldiers that'd been stationed there, one of their strongest assets-note, not person, asset, had turned against them after brutally murdering one of his own adoptive siblings in cold blood. When pressed on the issue, he helped the remaining siblings escape, indicating that it'd all been part of some larger scheme to subvert America's grip on their Gifted individuals. Subduing this specific individual wouldn't do. Too long had he hemed and hawed at having to follow the government's authority based on just his strength and ability alone. Like it or not, they'd HAVE to make an example out of him. To show that no matter how strong you were, no matter how many warm bodies they'd have to throw at you, you would yield, or you would die.

It'd taken approximately seven hours. Hundreds of men and women serving in the armed forces were left dead by the end. By the time the Modern Crusaders arrived, there'd be little to face them but piles upon piles of dead men and ice.

The most terrible thing of all wasn't how the soldiers met their fate or how quickly the government had decided to write off someone who'd done their bidding, albiet with severe reluctance, since childhood. It was how unnecessary all of it was. The man had never killed his brother. The thought of being accused of it made him ill. But he had no way to prove that his brother was fine. What could one do when lacking a body or any clue at all as to your sibling's whereabouts? The government steadfastly refused the explanation that 'he'd simply disappeared without a trace' and assumed that the man had killed his sibling, one of the government's finest operatives and cleaners, out of spite for them and nothing more. Perhaps he was even colluding with his other siblings which meant they would ALL have to be punished. The man knew this not to be true, at least, for the most part.

He would have welcomed his missing brother back with open arms. But the government had been right in their suspicions. They'd just gotten the wrong sibling. Multi-the youngest of Zeke's adopted siblings, bought from his parents in Belgium as an infant, Zeke and the others raised him, cared for him, and so on. The situation wasn't great as society the world over refused to ever accept the open existence of Gifted lest the masses let it get to their head and soon, anarchy would be everywhere! But the man could usually stand his ground against the government, and they'd buckle, not wanting to amass the forces necessary to make him yield.

Not this time. They couldn't afford to. If there was a traitor in their midst that'd helped the Crusaders-a group of Gifted that'd unlocked their abilities later in life than the norm and were hell bent on fighting the government's authority everywhere they went-defeat not one but two agents under their employ, it could not be tolerated no matter how many threats the man made. The man knew the truth and it tore at him. Multi had betrayed not only the government but their erstwhile family by aiding the Crusaders/telling them of Ink's condition and nearly getting him killed in the end. Multi excused his actions as being justified. 'Ink was a monster! He murdered that child's parents!' which was a sad truth. Zeke was no exception to the rule either however much he may have despised it. Those who witnessed signs of Gifted activity were silenced. One way or another. But whereas Zeke and his siblings saw it as a grim fact of life, Ink took joy in it.

'These people will never accept me. Maybe they'll accept the fear my very existence inspires in them. Seconds before I rip open their guts and devour them, seeing the life drain from their judgmental eyes.'

Ink had been stolen from his biological parents before he'd even left the hospital. His mother was forced to keep quiet and paid a mockingly low stipend by the government to stay far away and be uninvolved in Ink's life. His father-a man with a complicated history of his own. He and his son were both known as Surprises(a hybrid born of two different types of Gifted mating. In Ink's father's case his father was an acid elemental and his mother was a mental type) and Ink was an elemental/mutation type(shark-like traits). With his Gift [THE DEAD WALK], Ink's father kicked off a zombie outbreak at a VA hospital in Pennslyvania where his Korean War vet father was being treated. It was only through his father's credentials that he avoided being killed right then and there. Upon resisting the government from taking custody of Ink (real name: Damian Cortez) he was locked away in a steel drum for years, his condition constantly activated over and over to keep him from escaping while the government experimented on him for years before eventually just forgetting about him. When he managed to finally escape and wreaked havoc across L.A in the early 80s, he was eventually killed. By Ink's stepfather and Ink none the wiser. Left to believe that his birth parents had despised him. Just as much as everyone else.

The man never judged Ink for what he was but instead tried to be there for him as much as he could. He'd had loving parents, both ice elementals (though his mother had a White Fire elemental father) but after freezing over his small village on the outskirts of Paris after narrowly being assaulted by a grown assailant, he was given over to a agent of the US government at the time to spare him any punishment from the French government. One man by the name of Richard Henderson. No matter how old the man got, he'd never forget that combed over blonde hair, the eerie smile, and the thick German accent.

"What is your name, young man?" Richard asked the young pale youth, still clutching at his mother's waist.

"...R...Rene..Rene Beaumont...."

"Ahh... It's a fine name I suppose. But I believe coming overseas, you'll need a new name. Think of it as a marker for your new life! We haven't much time I'm afraid so, hmm..." Richard pondered for a moment before smiling.

"Zeke. Zeke will do."

And from that point on, he was simply. Zeke.

...And yet, all his care, all his effort, it seemed to have been for naught. The other half of the base was a smoldering mess with lava strewn about. Having realized that none of the soldiers they'd stationed there had the strength to contend with Zeke let alone neutralize him, two other elementals were sent in. One was a orange fire elemental that Zeke had known in his youth. Although he'd attempted to talk her down and tried to explain, she would not have it. For years she'd struggled to defeat him, always wanting to fight when Zeke simply desired to live as peacefully as he could, watching over his brothers as well as he could manage. In the end, he ultimately ended up having to kill her. Putting out her flames with a fierce gust of wind, point blank. To exhaust a fire elemental's flames was akin to smothering them so as she lay wheezing and looking for air that would not come, she left her mark on Zeke. Burning through his jacket, she left a hand shaped scar on the left side of his abdomen. It wasn't until she finally died that the burning ceased.

The other elemental had been one Zeke and Ink had encountered as children. He was little more than a mercenary that had at one point worked for China, Russia, and as of late? The US just offered him more than either of the former. Zeke had trained himself to be able to withstand having his condition met through the usual means. But there was little to be done to defend against a flurry of magma strikes. Any shield he put up was melted, any freezing winds he conjured threatened to cook him alive if he didn't call them off, and no matter how many ice swords or knives he threw. He couldn't come close to meeting his enemy's condition.

"It's over, Zeke."

<"not....yet...">

The mercenary shook his head, still wearing his human glamour, even as the left side of his body was little more than a humanoid shaped blob of lava. Rearing back his fist, he threw it forward and Zeke met the punch head on. The air itself cracked around the spot of Zeke's punch and an absolutely chilling shockwave tore through the steel-coated depths of the base, freezing over the walls but doing little to stave off his opponent. Reaching out and grabbing Zeke's outstretched hand, the mercenary heard Zeke's wails of agony in his head as ice cracked, and flesh sizzled. <"AGAAHHHHHH!!! AHHHHHHHH!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!">

"It didn't have to be like this, Zeke."

Letting go, Zeke reeled back, smoke flowing off his left hand as though it were the end of a cigar. The limb looked absolutely hideous with chunks of flesh poking out from under the chipped ice like yolk poking out of a cracked egg shell and two of his fingers had been burned so badly they curled up against his palm. "All you had to do was what was asked of you. Instead, you chose to lie and helped your brothers escape. How far do you think they'll get Zeke? Do you think the feds haven't planned for this? ...You think they'll survive without you?"

Zeke let his left arm hang limply at his side, that hand practically unusable. <"You will not....harm them.....not over my dead body.">

The man listened, nodded, and stepped forward.

"Fine."

*VSSSSSHHHHHHHHH*

Steam poured out from Zeke's chest as the merc shoved a fist full of lava deep into his sternum. Cracks began to spread across Zeke's body and the light in his eyes started to grow dim almost instantaneously. The ice surrounding both men began to melt rapidly, already dripping back into water within mere seconds. His condition had been beyond met, it was exceeded. His ticket had been punched. Pulling his fist back out, the merc shook his head as Zeke stumbled, and slumped against the closest section of unfrozen wall, fire and smoke burning inside the grapefruit sized hole in his chest. "Stubborn son of a bitch and look where it got you." Shaking his head again, the man reached for the headset attached to his baseball cap and began talking. Zeke didn't know about what. He couldn't do or think of much at the moment.

When it became clear the government would not stand for his disobedience any longer and believed that he was hiding something from them, Zeke had made arrangments for his remaining siblings to be escorted to, what he hoped anyway, was a safe location. He hadn't expected to walk away from this alive. As his body continued to crack and bright blue blood began pooling on the ground in front of him, Zeke rested his head against the wall.

<"i'm sorry....if only....i could have had.....a little more time. if i could have...held out more....">

His brothers were all adults and powerful in their own right. He had to at least be optimistic that they'd be able to do fine on their own. Who knows? Maybe since they'd likely be hunted down by the government, the Crusaders and them would find common ground. Multi had already helped them once. The very incident that'd started all of this. But as the ice all around the base continued to melt back into water, Zeke thought back to his most recent regret.

That he'd never been able to help Ink. To get him to see that even 'normals' had value. Not all of them would hate him or be afraid. If they got to know Ink as a person, Zeke was sure they'd find something to stand together on. From what he'd heard one of the members of Ink's old unit when he was a little boy was a Normal who, while initially terrified of Ink's appearance, grew fond of the toddler and cared for him. If Zeke could have just frozen him and, perhaps, had a moment or two to think about what he wanted to say. How he wanted to do this.

Things could have been different.

It was too late now. Ink was gone to where? Zeke didn't know and from the looks of it neither did Ink. His brothers were safe and the Crusaders were on their way here. He could no longer fight, he couldn't even find the strength to stand. But as a crack ran down the front of his forehead, he knew the last card he had left to play. Every elemental had something known as a 'Dead Shot.' When on the cusp of death, an elemental could expend all the energy they had left into one final use of their Gift. Most used it to try and take their murderer with them. Zeke knew that'd be futile here. He simply lacked the power to take down the mercenary. A water elemental would have likely fared better.

So, instead, he sought to bury him down in the depths of the ruined base. Let the Crusaders come and see the carnage and move on, unmolested. One final gouge in the eye.

"-Yeah, yeah, I'll bring his corpse back. The ice is already melting so figure it's probably just a matter of time. What?? Okay, okay keep your pants on Westlake. S'not my ass on the line if this whole thing goes tits up. I'll finish him off and deal with Winters and crew when they get here. Easy peasy-huh? Hold on a second..." The mercenary took his un-magmafied hand away from the headset and looked over to Zeke's prone body where his eyes were glowing brighter and brighter. "...What the hell are you doing? You're really gonna waste your Dead Shot on me? It won't do jack and you and I both know it." The hired gun walked over and raised his left arm up, black smoke billowing off it in huge fumes. "I'll put an end to this right now and once you're gone? Winters and his little posse are next." He prepared to strike....

"Been nice knowin ya, Zeke."

<"can't say....the same...for you. [ANTARCTICA]!!!">

"What the fuck-"

*BOOM*

By the time the smoke from both the merc's body and Zeke's wound dissipated, the base in its entirety had been frozen solid. Zeke didn't know what became of the man himself, the last thing he saw as the wave of ice overtook him was the floor giving way due to the shift in weight and him screaming Zeke's name as he fell to the lower floors, piles of debris falling with him as he went. The effect wouldn't last long as [JUST DIED] was quickly reaching it's limits and so was it's user. Zeke had bought the Crusaders little more than a couple of hours before the ice melted/the mercenary pulled himself free. If they dared to venture inside the base, all they'd find was a shattered corpse, his eyes having gone dark.

<"....i'm sorry. ink....i wish i could have....done.......more.">

Then he was gone.

~~~



When you died in the world that both Zeke and Ink called home, that was it. Your soul would be guided to its final destination by the Reaper-a Gifted known as a Primordial, an ancient entity that was created to fulfill humanity's need for a guide to the afterlife. In turn your Gift and by proxy your soul disappeared with you. To for example try to use Zeke's organs to try and 'recreate' [JUST DIED] would have failed spectacularly. Whatever cadaver or donor they'd have put the organs into would have decomposed/fallen apart the second they tried using their stolen Gift.

Ink once compared it to 'copy protection for the soul.'

Ink's stepfather had also had the misfortune of dying once but thankfully being brought back to life after meeting an entity he came to know as 'Bob.' Bob was, is, an alien who as he explains it is more or less the overseer of Earth and it's inhabitants though he makes it abundantly clear he's NOT G. O. D. Just...Bob. Bob explained that although he cannot directly interfere with human business, he finds the act of trying to re-use one's Gift and by extension copying/misuing a deceased person's soul as abhorrent and destroys the body, though naturally, humanity being what it is found ways to circumvent it by replacing the diseased parts with technology.

Zeke, not wanting to trample on his brother's beliefs did not openly dispute the tale, but if such a Bob existed, Zeke supposed that it was time to finally meet him. Though as he closed his eyes and awaited whatever the afterlife had to offer him, he felt a strange sensation. Similar to when he'd taken Multi to an amusement park. The sensation of falling. Very fast.

<"...what...?">

Zeke opened his eyes and saw the ground growing closer and closer. Or rather he was rocketing straight towards it like a ice borne rocket. Holding out his uninjured hand, Zeke spread his fingers apart and looked as though he 'grabbed onto' the wind itself as one might grab a shower curtain and pulled it. Hard. The sudden influx of heavy wind changed his course and sent him flying across the ground, bumping across it and irritating his exposed chest wound (something he was sure would have, should have, killed him??) before finally coming to a stop. Okay. So, unless this was the afterlife and if it were he had certain complaints. Being able to still feel pain being key among them. But where had he fallen from...?

Looking up, he pondered.

<"....is this hell...?">

Well, he supposed if this Bob had decreed Zeke had sinned enough in life, wasn't much to be done about it. Made the whole pain issue a touch more understandable as well. Likely wasn't going to be a fun stay. Using his good hand and the working two fingers + thumb on his burned hand, Zeke pushed himself up into a seated position and looked over his wounds. His left hand was still horribly burned and the skin looked as though someone had taken one of those ice cream bars and smashed it to pieces with frozen blood spread across the cracks. Klondike he believed they were called. He could still move two fingers and his thumb so he supposed that was something. The chest wound was another problem. Closing his eyes and focusing, Zeke formed a thick layer of black translucent ice over the burned portion of his hand and the hole in his chest. If he was to be condemned to eternal damnation, then he supposed he'd at least try to look presentable.

The terrified looking townspeople around him were, also, a small issue.

Zeke generally had no issues wearing a glamour. Regardless of whatever normals thought of his true form, he was self-confident enough that it didn't matter. It was for security and little more. Ink despised how well-off Zeke was in that regard. Biologically being incapable of making a passable glamour likely didn't help. Still, it was Zeke's first time being exposed like this since he was a child. People in his village didn't care if you were a Gifted and his parents only wore glamours when the authorities came snooping around.

Well, he'd mostly gotten his barings though the pain in his chest still ached terribly.

<"...Excuse me..">

He asked, using thought speak to reach out to the nearest civilian.

The civilian looked around, fearful of what French-accented voice was reaching out into his mind!

<"do not be afraid...i..i was not sent here to harm you."> Or at least he hoped that was the case. If this were Hell then he'd likely be asked to kill these people for fun. <"...is this....is this Hell?">

The townsperson finally eyed Zeke and then pointed frantically down across the street. Zeke's eyes followed his. They rested on what appeared to be an army of armored creatures marching towards these otherwise defenseless looking citizens. Armed with swords, spears, bows & arrows, you name it.

There he supposed his answer.

He felt terrible, his body ached all over and the cracks from his final moments still hadn't healed. Leaving him more disfigured than he would have liked, what with a see-through hole in his chest and all. But if the forces of the afterlife were hoping he'd stand idly by and let these people, real or not, be slaughtered?

They were wrong.

<"Where do you think you're going?"> He called out, trying to reach the nearest Dreadhorde soldier.

They continued to march.

Zeke looked over his shoulder, heaved his shoulders, and exhaled through his nostril slits.

<"I see. Then...">

He reached into his stomach and pulled out a saber made entirely out of ice. One like you may have seen in use during the late 1890s.

<"I'll have to stop you. [ICEBITER].">

He pulled the saber back. and a whistling noise chirped around the tip of the blade as wind coalesced around it.

He swung the sword at the space directly in front of him. The air cracked in the form of a massive snowflake.

*CRACK*

A freezing shockwave barreled towards the first line of Dreadhorde soldiers.

Zeke was unsteady, his torso wracked with shakes and cracks.

But no matter whether he was alive or dead.

He wouldn't stand by and see innocents hurt.

Never again.

~~~



There was no one who could say that Zeke had not fought valiantly.

All for people he believed were either not real or similarly condemned as he was.

But he was still a pale shadow of the powerhouse he'd once been and the wounds the mercenary had left on him took their toll.

Horde soldiers stood either frozen in place or shattered. Others had holes punched clean through them due to close-range shockwave punches.

Icebiter had broken numerous times over and Zeke just kept rebuilding it.

Yet, there were too many, and Zeke wasn't able enough to stem the tide by himself. Falling to a knee and digging Icebiter into the ground, Zeke clutched at his chest, his fingers scraping against the ice. <"damn it all...">

Then, a hero, arrived.

~~~

Zeke sat with his burned hand mostly hidden by his jacket's sleeve. Wasn't much he could do to hide the chest wound. He didn't really think it right to make demands or explanations out of this Jace.

Still, he supposed he was happy enough that he wasn't dead.

Didn't explain what had happened to his brother, and yet, if he only knew.

Ink didn't rise to his feet, instead arching his back and the tar across his body began to bubble and boil before settling. Looking like a cat poised to strike with it's hair standing on end. "On the way here we had to fight zombies, and I mean plenty of em. A real big ugly one too. Snakehead and all. So, yeah, an explanation or two would be nice."