TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -
NOTES: -
► Show Spoiler
- - -
- - -
While neither of the elves knew the true blood cost of whatever ability he’d cast, they could tell from his visible weakness after the fact that it had used a substantial amount of his life essence. Degare was fairly poised to react should it be required of him and Lucia was prepared to follow his lead.
However, when the woman with the heavier Couronne accent spoke again, the growing unease on Lucia’s features became visible whereas she had hidden it before. It hadn’t exactly clicked in her head what those around her meant by the concept of ‘feeding’ the others to the Rathor, and as far as she was aware, Rathor didn’t eat people…at least…such a thing was not required of them. Tilting her head up and to the side, she leans close and whispers a question to the taller elf. For a second, he wears an expression of surprise, then he looks apologetic towards her. Their conversation is muffled because both of them are speaking quite quietly and in Silvain, sensitive ears could make out the word ‘Dranoch’ spoken a few times. He gives her a soft smile and a gentle kiss on the head, as if in reassurance.
Almost immediately after this gesture was shared between them, the Resoner completes his cast and blinks towards the stairs. He is fast, but unfortunately for him, not fast enough; he is unable to complete a second cast of Sonic Blink before his shoulder blade is impaled and shattered by a fragment of the Vandikar’s blood armor. His squeal of pain and the rain of crimson brightens the expressions of the two onlooking elves almost immediately. The sound of shattering bone and tearing flesh alone was enough to entice both of them.
Despite parts of his body being held in place by weave, Arkash seemed to be unbothered. As a blood mage, limited movement didn’t appear to be an issue. Both elves heard the blood tear from the body of the man behind them but were too focused on those in front of them to actually see the razor sharp spears until they rang through the air and impacted against the Mentalist’s legs, shattering them. Lips parting just a bit and eyes alight, Degare is thoroughly entertained, at the very least. Profuse bleeding and shattered bone seem to excite him the most. Lucia wears a cruel smile under cold, jade eyes– her expression has an uncanny amount of spite in it as she locks eyes with the broken man, wrapping her arms around the Veir’s bicep in a display meant to show her undying loyalty to him. She must be mocking whatever she’d told the man as his face twists in a combination of agony and intense betrayal.
Attempting to grab the blood spears was apparently a huge mistake– the meager force of his grip resulted in his fingers being cut clean off. Lucia couldn’t– or simply didn’t– try to stifle her laughter. While Degare’s amber gaze remained more focused on the bloodshed itself, one would be able to tell that Lucia enjoys psychological torment quite a bit more. She is basking in their fear while he is in the red rivers that flow from them.
As the scent of blood began to fill the room, the two Sil’Norai were the picture of delight as they stood in the eye of the storm that was Arkash’s wrath. The next to bleed was the branded woman as she tried to cast. Her hand was first pierced by blood that froze in place, and when she pulled, it rent through her flesh in an unclean tear. Degare brought a hand up to his face as if to cover his mouth as his grin widened with a sick sense of pleasure. Lucia laughed at the woman, then squinted up at her Lord with an impish expression.
While these Valran had magical training, none of them were prepared for a real combat scenario and it showed. The futility of their efforts was almost painful to watch– it would make one cringe if it didn’t please the two elves near as much as it did.
In their focus on the gore as it happened before their eyes, neither Sil’Norai were paying attention to where the Nightfallen had gone, either; they reacted with surprise when she appeared, though their expressions were ultimately unconcerned. Her strike missed the softer flesh and instead dragged against his armored plates with an uncomfortable screech of the blade. Her mistake would be costly as the hardened blood became spikes and penetrated her torso in myriad places; the poor woman looked like a pincushion as she dropped to the floor, bleeding profusely. Lucia looked at her with an expression that read, ‘what did you expect?’ while Degare stared in fascination as the blood seeped from wounds and flowed into pools of bright crimson beneath her.
The sad part was the branded woman was actually fairly competent with her magic, she just didn’t have anywhere near the mental fortitude required for actual life or death situations, not that it really mattered, anyways.
As blood began to floor towards Arkash, Lucia untangled her arms from Degare and stepped at a side angle slightly in front of him, placed a hand over his heart on his chest, looked his figure up and down and then laughed at him. Speaking much louder than before and this time in Silvain accented Common, “You’re so predictable, Degare…bloodhound that you are.” Whatever she was alluding to resulted in him narrowing his eyes a bit and then scoffing back, “Oh? And you're going to pretend you don’t feel the very same?” His voice is sarcastic but ultimately p[ayful. “At least I’m better at hiding it,” words followed up with more melodic laughter as she steps back again, waiting to see what was next to be cast.
- - -
While neither of the elves knew the true blood cost of whatever ability he’d cast, they could tell from his visible weakness after the fact that it had used a substantial amount of his life essence. Degare was fairly poised to react should it be required of him and Lucia was prepared to follow his lead.
However, when the woman with the heavier Couronne accent spoke again, the growing unease on Lucia’s features became visible whereas she had hidden it before. It hadn’t exactly clicked in her head what those around her meant by the concept of ‘feeding’ the others to the Rathor, and as far as she was aware, Rathor didn’t eat people…at least…such a thing was not required of them. Tilting her head up and to the side, she leans close and whispers a question to the taller elf. For a second, he wears an expression of surprise, then he looks apologetic towards her. Their conversation is muffled because both of them are speaking quite quietly and in Silvain, sensitive ears could make out the word ‘Dranoch’ spoken a few times. He gives her a soft smile and a gentle kiss on the head, as if in reassurance.
Almost immediately after this gesture was shared between them, the Resoner completes his cast and blinks towards the stairs. He is fast, but unfortunately for him, not fast enough; he is unable to complete a second cast of Sonic Blink before his shoulder blade is impaled and shattered by a fragment of the Vandikar’s blood armor. His squeal of pain and the rain of crimson brightens the expressions of the two onlooking elves almost immediately. The sound of shattering bone and tearing flesh alone was enough to entice both of them.
Despite parts of his body being held in place by weave, Arkash seemed to be unbothered. As a blood mage, limited movement didn’t appear to be an issue. Both elves heard the blood tear from the body of the man behind them but were too focused on those in front of them to actually see the razor sharp spears until they rang through the air and impacted against the Mentalist’s legs, shattering them. Lips parting just a bit and eyes alight, Degare is thoroughly entertained, at the very least. Profuse bleeding and shattered bone seem to excite him the most. Lucia wears a cruel smile under cold, jade eyes– her expression has an uncanny amount of spite in it as she locks eyes with the broken man, wrapping her arms around the Veir’s bicep in a display meant to show her undying loyalty to him. She must be mocking whatever she’d told the man as his face twists in a combination of agony and intense betrayal.
Attempting to grab the blood spears was apparently a huge mistake– the meager force of his grip resulted in his fingers being cut clean off. Lucia couldn’t– or simply didn’t– try to stifle her laughter. While Degare’s amber gaze remained more focused on the bloodshed itself, one would be able to tell that Lucia enjoys psychological torment quite a bit more. She is basking in their fear while he is in the red rivers that flow from them.
As the scent of blood began to fill the room, the two Sil’Norai were the picture of delight as they stood in the eye of the storm that was Arkash’s wrath. The next to bleed was the branded woman as she tried to cast. Her hand was first pierced by blood that froze in place, and when she pulled, it rent through her flesh in an unclean tear. Degare brought a hand up to his face as if to cover his mouth as his grin widened with a sick sense of pleasure. Lucia laughed at the woman, then squinted up at her Lord with an impish expression.
While these Valran had magical training, none of them were prepared for a real combat scenario and it showed. The futility of their efforts was almost painful to watch– it would make one cringe if it didn’t please the two elves near as much as it did.
In their focus on the gore as it happened before their eyes, neither Sil’Norai were paying attention to where the Nightfallen had gone, either; they reacted with surprise when she appeared, though their expressions were ultimately unconcerned. Her strike missed the softer flesh and instead dragged against his armored plates with an uncomfortable screech of the blade. Her mistake would be costly as the hardened blood became spikes and penetrated her torso in myriad places; the poor woman looked like a pincushion as she dropped to the floor, bleeding profusely. Lucia looked at her with an expression that read, ‘what did you expect?’ while Degare stared in fascination as the blood seeped from wounds and flowed into pools of bright crimson beneath her.
The sad part was the branded woman was actually fairly competent with her magic, she just didn’t have anywhere near the mental fortitude required for actual life or death situations, not that it really mattered, anyways.
As blood began to floor towards Arkash, Lucia untangled her arms from Degare and stepped at a side angle slightly in front of him, placed a hand over his heart on his chest, looked his figure up and down and then laughed at him. Speaking much louder than before and this time in Silvain accented Common, “You’re so predictable, Degare…bloodhound that you are.” Whatever she was alluding to resulted in him narrowing his eyes a bit and then scoffing back, “Oh? And you're going to pretend you don’t feel the very same?” His voice is sarcastic but ultimately p[ayful. “At least I’m better at hiding it,” words followed up with more melodic laughter as she steps back again, waiting to see what was next to be cast.
____
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"
