Vrey pushed her leather covered fingers against the visible portions of the wound she had dug into her arms. The blood didn't spray or gush forth in reaction to the probing digits but instead oozed and rippled stiffly. The teenager hissed quietly as she pulled her fingers away, but still managed to present Ruarc with a confident nod. "Full containment will reinstate within 48 to 96 hours. Nothing of critical value exists to report Herr Flynn."
The teen tensed and drew in a deep breath. "Is anyone else requiring assistance?"
Remarque, with a quiet yap and then a growl, butt his head against Vrey's knee before crawling into her lap. The bald girl smiled briefly at the contact and quickly began to run her blood stained fingers through the spikes of her familiar's rough fur.
---
Lyra left all her blades in the corpse of the giant as she leaped from the mythical being's back - the towering, unbalanced body lumbering backwards in a threat to her even in death - and hit the ground in a roll that while controlled still jarred every bone she had.
The large woman pushed herself to her feet at the same time as she pushed away from her magic, but even as her magically enhanced state subsided the utter silence it had brought with it still blanketed her like a shroud. Her brain couldn't just switch on-and-off as quick as her magic and the induced deafness would last at the least another few hours.
Leaning over to scoop up some dirt and scrub it against the blood coating her hands and face, Lyra took a long glance towards Percival. The Alchemist was unmoving, bereft upon a chair of his own making and sitting so motionless it seemed his ability to move had disappeared alongside his retreating enemies.
The swordswoman shook her head and approached the closest cluster of students to her. They didn't know her, but right now that didn't matter.
Can any of you sign? Lyra's fingers moved confidently as they formed the question. Is anyone hurt? Anywhere feel odd?
[Episode 3] Disturbing the Dust
Re: [Episode 3] Disturbing the Dust
Ruarc smiled down at Vrey and her new found friend, and placed a hand on top of the girl’s head before standing back up. It seemed the students, and even himself, had come out well enough. He would need to properly tend to Vrey to make sure she didn’t get an infection, but compared to other battles the Druid had been in it wasn’t bad. Just about to respond to the teen’s question he heard Johann calling out from up the path. His head whipped around and his body followed suit as he saw Johann and Drysi attending to Willow. Before he knew it he was sprinting back to the other students. Kneeling down next to the two students as they worked, Ruarc supervised their efforts while checking on Willow and her injury. Willow, to her credit, was doing quite well. It seemed what Drysi had been saying had distracted the Brit through the lion’s share of the first aide.
“Drysi, Johann, you’ve done well,” Ruarc said, his voice reassuring as he put a hand on each of their shoulders. Letting it last for a moment, he reached over into his fanny pack by Drysi and pulled out a clean handkerchief. “Willow, make sure you keep your Pewter burning, and hold this over the puncture. Everyone, we’re heading back to the Glade. Safety in numbers, and better healing options for Vrey and Willow.”
After prepping Willow to move, Ruarc easily but delicately picked up Willow and began to move.
“Hey Drysi,” Willow called over to her friend. Once she was sure she had the triclops’ attention, she gave the other girl a stupid smile.
~~~
“Missus?” Caoranach asked, almost unsure she had heard Tegwyn correctly. The godling left before Caoranach could correct her, but a part of her kind of liked the misconception. Biting her lip, she considered that. She’d consorted with mortals plenty of times, even forming rudimentary relationships from time to time; but she had never committed herself to any one individual. So why was the thought of a binding union comforting all of a sudden? Why was she putting herself at risk for these students that she had no ties to simply because they were important to Ruarc?
“I’ve gone soft,” Caoranach said quietly, but remained planted where she was, watching the trees, waiting.
“Drysi, Johann, you’ve done well,” Ruarc said, his voice reassuring as he put a hand on each of their shoulders. Letting it last for a moment, he reached over into his fanny pack by Drysi and pulled out a clean handkerchief. “Willow, make sure you keep your Pewter burning, and hold this over the puncture. Everyone, we’re heading back to the Glade. Safety in numbers, and better healing options for Vrey and Willow.”
After prepping Willow to move, Ruarc easily but delicately picked up Willow and began to move.
“Hey Drysi,” Willow called over to her friend. Once she was sure she had the triclops’ attention, she gave the other girl a stupid smile.
~~~
“Missus?” Caoranach asked, almost unsure she had heard Tegwyn correctly. The godling left before Caoranach could correct her, but a part of her kind of liked the misconception. Biting her lip, she considered that. She’d consorted with mortals plenty of times, even forming rudimentary relationships from time to time; but she had never committed herself to any one individual. So why was the thought of a binding union comforting all of a sudden? Why was she putting herself at risk for these students that she had no ties to simply because they were important to Ruarc?
“I’ve gone soft,” Caoranach said quietly, but remained planted where she was, watching the trees, waiting.
Re: [Episode 3] Disturbing the Dust
Manon darted around, stopping to check on people as she continued on a more and more hurried pace. She had a well-placed smile under her mask, but the urgency in her movements belied her nerves.
“How are you, bon? Bon. And you? Hildegard. Hildy. Can you walk? Up. Up. Now, now, you have lovely legs, use them. Come on, go. To Ms. Smith. Eryk, can you check on Monsieur Caxton? Merci! Djene, have you seen Johann? Drysi? Non? It’s okay, I’m looking. Pardon, Tanaka, can you help over there? Oh, have you seen Johann? Non? Non. Arno, you are okay? You are holding your hand.”
Arno was curled over his arm, and looked up at the clown.
“I fell, I think I broke my hand when that giant swung at us…”
“You will be fine, Mx. Flynn has healing, and Mdm. Laoise will help soothe that hand until you–...”
From the shadow of the giant came another, not a giant, but a giant-slayer. The dirt-soaked Lyra signed peacefully, which helped put the students at ease. Manon, her nerves electric, stepped forward with a confident, but stiff grace. Then, she bowed and flipped back up with a flourish wearing a flowing white coat and sporting a hefty pompadour.
“We’re fine, thank you.” sneered Manon with the strange, exaggerated thuggishness of a Japanese delinquent. Her hands moved in motion with her words, speaking with equal confidence and flair, “Who are you and what are you doing here? And…”
Her act fell as she leaned in as much as she trusted and signed quietly, Have you seen a young man in a turban? A loud blonde with an attitude problem, and her better half, also blonde, with a judgment problem?
Eryl watched the silent conversation unfold, gripping on her wand with both hands. She was, for some reason, forlorn with the conversation had with Jane, but she tried to stay a bit more in the moment, knowing that things were still pressing. After she felt Lyra was no evident threat to the students, she turned and approached the nearest unattended group. With a soft smile, she asked.
"Do any of you need help?"
Nadiya looked up from one of her friends and their skinned knee. The two students recoiled once they realized what Eryl was.
"Ugmh… No… We're fine," Nadiya, shifted herself a little more to interpose herself between Eryl and the other student.
The smile on the Abjurer's face wavered, but remained, and she nodded, slowly.
"Ah. Good."
Eryl stood, moved herself to the edge of the brown glade and stared off into the woods.
Tegwyn carried on past the triclops, paying her no mind and plodding her way up to the still Alchemist on his throne of many, crystalline chairs. A couple of the other students, the hexer and a witch, had determined themselves brave enough to approach and check on the man.
“You two! Abscond!” snarled the godling, clenching her weapon, “Make yourselves away from him!”
Eryk, not necessarily equipped to disarm the situation, put his hand on Dorothy’s shoulder to restrain her. The witch had a wand in her hand, and had learned that she wasn’t afraid to use it. Tegwyn had been a ghost at the school, and right now, seemed as much a variable as anything else. The three students stood there, staring each other down in a tense stand–off.
“... Regardless of which it might be…” The Alchemist muttered, slacking the tightening thread, “...the only option… is to keep going.”
The three of them turned to see Mr. Caxton coming to his feet, his face in a daze. Like a rebooting computer, his motions became more and more human as he breathed. The spell seemed to break when he appeared to finally notice them.
“The Inquisitors are coming,” said Caxton, with clarity, looking seriously at both Tegwyn and Dorothy, “Put your foci away. Go to Ms. Smith. Make sure everyone has their hands free and clear.”
—-
“You bloody fool,” Drysi sputtered, more tears rolling down over her beaming grin. Something in her couldn’t help but feel as happy as she could be despite the exhaustion and the weariness. Seeing Willow smile at her, seeing her particular brand of smile seemed to melt the pain away. “Gettin’ yourself in trouble like that.”
Drysi hooked her arm with Johann’s, bringing him close and did the same with Vrey, being mindful of Remarque and the wounds. She laughed like a fool, sharp canines twinkling in the growing daylight of an Autumn that began to feel more part of a cycle than one of teetering death. All the while her tears flowed, that feeling of lightness carrying her up near Mr Flynn. She bumped into everyone as she tried to hop up into Willow’s face, only to have their foreheads(and eye) bump into each other.
“No one’s gunna believe us,” Drysi whispered loudly, regaining her balance in the strange, six-legged stroll. “How could they? I bet the Occultus’ll tell us we can’t say anything! But I want to tell everyone! Ha ha! I want to tell them about you! I want to tell them about u–...”
Scribble. The sound of the triclop’s phone signaled her of a notification. “Oh, that's mum.”
As she stomped along in step with the others, riding her high, she pulled out her device and swiped it open. Then, she stopped, poking through one message, and then another.
At that time, all the students were getting messages: from concerned loved ones, from friends, from the emergency systems of the Occultus.
“How are you, bon? Bon. And you? Hildegard. Hildy. Can you walk? Up. Up. Now, now, you have lovely legs, use them. Come on, go. To Ms. Smith. Eryk, can you check on Monsieur Caxton? Merci! Djene, have you seen Johann? Drysi? Non? It’s okay, I’m looking. Pardon, Tanaka, can you help over there? Oh, have you seen Johann? Non? Non. Arno, you are okay? You are holding your hand.”
Arno was curled over his arm, and looked up at the clown.
“I fell, I think I broke my hand when that giant swung at us…”
“You will be fine, Mx. Flynn has healing, and Mdm. Laoise will help soothe that hand until you–...”
From the shadow of the giant came another, not a giant, but a giant-slayer. The dirt-soaked Lyra signed peacefully, which helped put the students at ease. Manon, her nerves electric, stepped forward with a confident, but stiff grace. Then, she bowed and flipped back up with a flourish wearing a flowing white coat and sporting a hefty pompadour.
“We’re fine, thank you.” sneered Manon with the strange, exaggerated thuggishness of a Japanese delinquent. Her hands moved in motion with her words, speaking with equal confidence and flair, “Who are you and what are you doing here? And…”
Her act fell as she leaned in as much as she trusted and signed quietly, Have you seen a young man in a turban? A loud blonde with an attitude problem, and her better half, also blonde, with a judgment problem?
Eryl watched the silent conversation unfold, gripping on her wand with both hands. She was, for some reason, forlorn with the conversation had with Jane, but she tried to stay a bit more in the moment, knowing that things were still pressing. After she felt Lyra was no evident threat to the students, she turned and approached the nearest unattended group. With a soft smile, she asked.
"Do any of you need help?"
Nadiya looked up from one of her friends and their skinned knee. The two students recoiled once they realized what Eryl was.
"Ugmh… No… We're fine," Nadiya, shifted herself a little more to interpose herself between Eryl and the other student.
The smile on the Abjurer's face wavered, but remained, and she nodded, slowly.
"Ah. Good."
Eryl stood, moved herself to the edge of the brown glade and stared off into the woods.
Tegwyn carried on past the triclops, paying her no mind and plodding her way up to the still Alchemist on his throne of many, crystalline chairs. A couple of the other students, the hexer and a witch, had determined themselves brave enough to approach and check on the man.
“You two! Abscond!” snarled the godling, clenching her weapon, “Make yourselves away from him!”
Eryk, not necessarily equipped to disarm the situation, put his hand on Dorothy’s shoulder to restrain her. The witch had a wand in her hand, and had learned that she wasn’t afraid to use it. Tegwyn had been a ghost at the school, and right now, seemed as much a variable as anything else. The three students stood there, staring each other down in a tense stand–off.
“... Regardless of which it might be…” The Alchemist muttered, slacking the tightening thread, “...the only option… is to keep going.”
The three of them turned to see Mr. Caxton coming to his feet, his face in a daze. Like a rebooting computer, his motions became more and more human as he breathed. The spell seemed to break when he appeared to finally notice them.
“The Inquisitors are coming,” said Caxton, with clarity, looking seriously at both Tegwyn and Dorothy, “Put your foci away. Go to Ms. Smith. Make sure everyone has their hands free and clear.”
—-
“You bloody fool,” Drysi sputtered, more tears rolling down over her beaming grin. Something in her couldn’t help but feel as happy as she could be despite the exhaustion and the weariness. Seeing Willow smile at her, seeing her particular brand of smile seemed to melt the pain away. “Gettin’ yourself in trouble like that.”
Drysi hooked her arm with Johann’s, bringing him close and did the same with Vrey, being mindful of Remarque and the wounds. She laughed like a fool, sharp canines twinkling in the growing daylight of an Autumn that began to feel more part of a cycle than one of teetering death. All the while her tears flowed, that feeling of lightness carrying her up near Mr Flynn. She bumped into everyone as she tried to hop up into Willow’s face, only to have their foreheads(and eye) bump into each other.
“No one’s gunna believe us,” Drysi whispered loudly, regaining her balance in the strange, six-legged stroll. “How could they? I bet the Occultus’ll tell us we can’t say anything! But I want to tell everyone! Ha ha! I want to tell them about you! I want to tell them about u–...”
Scribble. The sound of the triclop’s phone signaled her of a notification. “Oh, that's mum.”
As she stomped along in step with the others, riding her high, she pulled out her device and swiped it open. Then, she stopped, poking through one message, and then another.
At that time, all the students were getting messages: from concerned loved ones, from friends, from the emergency systems of the Occultus.
SHELTER IN PLACE: ACTIVE CASTER REPORTED IN THE FOLLOWING AREAS: ...
Drysi. Don’t be worried. Your father is fine. We’re fine. There was an attack in old town today. We’re fine. We’re fine.
Is everything okay in Oahu?
BREAKING NEWS: The Institute of Bangor in Wales was bombed this evening, the situation is still developing. Occultus authorities are asking the mages of Bangor to stay in their homes. Secrecy is maintained.
”... the Academy of American Witches was set ablaze by a group of mages naming themselves the Lamplighters… “
”... the head of the Bureau des Affaires Mystiques of France was found burned alive in his home…”
”... several businesses serving the Occultus officials in the Understreets were destroyed…”
”... the Ministry of Occult Affairs announced that the stories of their department agents being attacked in their homes was a fabrication…”
”... circles of Druids woke up this morning to find their glades and homes burned or destroyed…”
Every article ended the same way.”... the Library of Cardiff was found empty after a raid was conducted by Inquisitors of the Occultus to apprehend…”
The only comforting breath any mage could breathe was that secrecy was maintained. Despite everything that happened that day, the wider, mundane world was none the wiser. Fires were put out, deaths were explained, injuries were healed, and life had to carry on. This was the life of a mage in the world of secrecy, under the Occultus Magica. That day was a worst for many, but few could know it was only disturbing the dust on the stage of things to come.”Secrecy is maintained.”