Training fire and ice
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 21 - Int:
Played by: Catalysta Away
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Posts: 1,182 | Total: 1,724
MP: 630
#1
Aurelia

Aurelia cut through the trail blazed by Deimos in his shift, not having guessed that he was an Attuned as well before challenging him to this race. Truly, she'd just been wanting to get a reaction out of him, but some small part of her thought she'd have been faster than him. She's keeping up fairly well, all things considered... maybe not as fast or as nimble, but she endures the trek and is determined not to lose him.

She's never actually been to the Rainbow Road before. She's seen it from distances but never really explored it. So when their trail veers them closer to it, the thought occurs to her that it may be a good place to practice with fire... after all, if there's nothing for the flames to catch hold of, perhaps then it would be cause for less concern from Deimos. He wouldn't have to question if she was trying to set the whole jungle on fire that way. So she slows to an eventual halt down by the riverbank.

"Hey! Okay, okay, you win!" She calls ahead to him and his companions, who are surely going to beat her all the way to Torchline. "Want to stop here for a bit?" She asks, voice faltering with the gasp of her lungs.

She glances over the rainbows that cover the surface of the water, surprised by how colorful this place truly is up close. She takes a much-needed moment to catch her breath, though, leaning down to place her hands against her knees and recover. Hopefully he agrees because she doesn't know how much longer she can keep chasing him for.
standing in the ashes of who I used to be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#2
Deimos
Instead of the gruff impasse, the entanglement of too many wounds and too many scars, his whole presence invoked amusement. Childish and juvenile, to be certain, but his rampaging paws and his long limbs carried them deep out of the jungles, along unknown pathways and unrelenting boundaries. And he was an ruthless figure again – not caught or tethered or trapped in between fronds and vines, and he could hear Zuriel’s hooves and Belial’s wings, a huffing and puffing from Aurelia.

Had he not been in hellhound form, there would have been an intermingling of infantile delight woven on his otherwise stoic features.

Content in his win, and taking no issue with the location – plenty of water for him to either control or diffuse a potentially devastating situation – he ceased. Muscles warmed up, pleased, he shifted back to human, monolithic form, arching a brow in her direction.

And he waited, permitting her to recover, as his eyes drifted over the rainbow pools and the reflective abyss, things he hadn’t looked upon in well over a year. When had he last? With Kiada? While they were exploring and wandering, while they were chasing after glories?

Lifetimes ago.

The piercing glance slated back to her, a solemn nod granted and given. “When you are ready then.” Zuriel snorted – likely perceiving her talents would be needed, and Belial appeared satisfied with drifting along the hues, hovering along.
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 21 - Int:
Played by: Catalysta Away
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#3
Aurelia

It's really too bad Aurelia can't sense his delight, especially considering her lack of an Attuned bond. Or she might feel a lot better about everything, even if only for a second. Well, she can at least see that he's very engaged, up until the moment she calls over and admits defeat.

But she doesn't get any of his childlike excitement, only a stoic arch of his brow. Which is what she's expecting anyway, if all else gave her anything to go off. She rolls her eyes slightly as she leans down, gasping quietly, until her lungs no longer hurt and she can slow down enough to talk.

"Ah, I see we had the same idea," she heaves out, smiling slightly, "I thought this might be a good place. No chance of burning everything down, right?"

Glad to see that he at least agrees with her on that, she straightens up and begins to work off her boots. The straps are undone, laces loosened, and finally her feet are presented into the water, bare. Her toes curl into the colorful earth with a hint of wonder and curiosity. She begins to wade up to her calves, moving slowly as if she's not quite sure.

"Ugh," she sighs into the misty air, letting the coolness of the water combat the heat in her bones.

When she's ready, she turns to look across at Deimos, calf-deep in the water. "Alright, what's the first lesson?" She asks, a humorous and small smile pressing over her lips.

Only she doesn't really wait for an answer or an instruction, instead pulling out her matchbook. Once more, the flame sparks to life. Mentally reaching for her magic, she begins to coax the flame into something brighter. Her free hand comes up to encourage it, as if it helps to strengthen her magic. It's a bit of a measly flame for now, but she's not sure where she's going with it yet.
standing in the ashes of who I used to be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#4
Deimos
A roll of pant legs, and a stroll into the waterway, was pleasing and satisfying in its own wake. Boyhood emblems and banners, rather than the pinnacles of the present; awash and adrift on waves once before, chasing after gulls, feet in sand, marching across dunes, laughing, cheering, whooping. None of that erupted over him now, save for a slight smile that held too many unknown fragments and meanings – his eyes wandering over to Belial’s hovering efforts, and Zuriel’s idle wanderings, grazing on what grass was available.

Much larger than Aurelia, the water didn’t reach far enough to make any semblance of an impact on his stature. He was very tempted to be irritating and obnoxious by sending a spray of water in her direction, but it wouldn’t stand to hasten any gains in the modes of instruction.

As it was – he needed to pay attention.

He must not have noted the matchbook from before – but narrowed his eyes and speculated over it now. The flames weren’t her own, but hastened, and cast, from the range of elements something else contained. “Do you always have to use that to start it?” His head, the jutting of his chin, unfurled towards the tool. No indication of any emotion behind the inquiry; just mere examination and scrutiny.

Perhaps he’d been spoiled, for it clambered to life without anything else but his own invocations.

He held out his hand, and the fire heeded to the beck and call immediately – vibrant, but not wild, carefully honed and pressed exactly as he wished. “Concentration and focus,” he administered by way of advice first – presuming she was like many he’d come across: brazen, bold, audacious, and sometimes distracted in their reaches for sedition, upheaval, and bedlam. Then the inferno in his grasp unfurled into shapes and nuances, much like his training figures once with Weaver, when they’d hastened and sharpened their figments over the Oasis. This time, he made them dance, spark, and flare in a woven venue of stars, bright and illustrious. “Think about what you want it to become.”
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 21 - Int:
Played by: Catalysta Away
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Posts: 1,182 | Total: 1,724
MP: 630
#5
Aurelia

Admittedly, as a sidenote, Aurelia's a little relieved not to be under the judgemental glare of Deimos' unicorn anymore. It was starting to get a little unnerving. At least now, out on the water, she can breathe. Really breathe, too, as she fans her magic.

His question startles her out of her focus and the flame at her fingertips dies. She grimaces down at the failed match before flicking it away. "Yes, well- I can't create it out of thin air..." she admits, glancing back at him with a quizzical look, "I didn't think that was possible."

So she's gotten into a habit of toying with the ability every now and then to light a cigarette or to stretch the life of a dying fire. She never knows when it will be an asset, either, like when she helped Sunjata to quell the flames that threatened to burn his house down. So she carries matchbooks everywhere now. It's grown on her since coming to terms with it. Much like everything else. But mastery is yet to manifest.

Deimos proves his, though, as his own flames come to life out of nothing, as if molded by his very own hands. A pool of burning energy to tap into whenever he pleases. Her jaw drops slightly, awed, envious, surprised. "How'd you...?" The question is lost on her lips, though.

She quickly snaps her mouth shut and, with a furrow of her brow, examines his techniques. He makes an impressive display of the flames as they dance and flicker, becoming bright lights against the river backdrop.

Another match summons another flame, and this time she'll try harder. Concentration and focus bring her eyes up towards the space above her head. Following the line of her gaze and an invisible path guided by her free hand, she pulls an arc of flame overhead. It swirls into the misty air. But she has no grandiose plans for it, can't think of any. The invisible tether snaps, the flames dissipate, and she blinks stupidly at the emptiness.

She lowers her gaze to stare across the water at him, at his own ambitious ability as it reflects against the surface of the water, creating a mesh of bright color. "I don't know what I want it to be..." Not imaginative enough or motivated enough to see use in her magic for anything else than destruction. "I mean, sure, I can light a fire to keep warm at or maybe put one out but... after that, it's... not much good for anything but burning shit down." She chuckles softly, but it's dark.
standing in the ashes of who I used to be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
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Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#6
Deimos
His presumptions had pooled into astute observations – she hadn’t yet mastered the ability to brim and extort the incantations from herself. They were from outside sources, which would only slow down the piercing, ravenous qualities of the flames. And if she ever got into the amount of messes, trials, and events that he, and so many others had, then she had better quickly adhere to such notions. By way of response, a rumble curled through his vocals, describing it only the best way he knew how. “It is within.” Lodged, coiled, contorted, ready, willing, and able to serve. “I think of them like strands.” Pull one, and his veins pulsed, pervaded, called into tangibility, and rising on the vast array of abilities. Pull another simultaneously, and they might combine into a differing, dynamic force.

So they remained, simmering in his grasp, their own miniature inferno, as Aurelia took regard of her enchantments. He watched the matches give and grant, the concentration striving to uphold, the arc rise, swirl, and then, snapping away, peeled into nothingness. Nowhere to go. No motive. No plan.

The minute depths of a smile mustered on his mouth, as the notions and semblances of destruction, and demolition. It was his favored outlet as well, but not always the one that mattered. “Sometimes it is purely for offense.” And here he unleashed a volley of flames, meant to be intimidating, vast, hungry for demise. “Or defense.” And then they rounded and arched, returning to the forefront of his existence as a shield – for he didn’t know many individuals or creatures that would bombard straight into fire.

But perhaps she needed the right spark, indication, and practice. The Sword had snagged at those for years – his thoughts wound to the flinthopper, and what he could’ve done, had he been in reach of those powers. Of the Monster Hunter’s Guild, defending and destroying all in the same breadth.

He shrugged his shoulders, and the flames diminished, back to residing in his being. “Try to decide what you will do with these.” And therein, he drew water from his own being – no need for the liquid laden at his feet – entangling, intermingling, so the droplets became ice, and the ice became miniature daggers and stilettos.

Then they rushed toward her.

If anything went completely awry, Zuriel was there - in all her judgmental glory (already snorting in the distance).
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 21 - Int:
Played by: Catalysta Away
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Posts: 1,182 | Total: 1,724
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#7
Aurelia

Aurelia nods minutely in understanding of his remark about them being like strands. "That's similar to what Milo said..."

But understanding how to tap into her magic, how to prompt it forth and wield it, is different from executing those things properly. At least that mental block in regards to feeling like it's an inherently bad thing is gone. She's free of the weight that was holding her back before. However, now she doesn't know where to go from here. As exemplified by her flames puttering out pathetically.

She takes notice of his slight smiles and vaguely jots each one down as a personal victory.

Deimos' flames intensify and her eyes widen a fraction, fear pulsing through her blood. If it's meant to be intimidating, it's working. She takes a cautionary step back, faltering, stuttering, lifting her elbows up as if she intends to block an oncoming attack - because, for a moment, she wonders if one will come. It doesn't, and her shoulders sag with relief as he corners all of his energy into a defensive 'shield' of sorts. "I see what you mean," she replies doubtfully as he dismisses his flames.

He's telling her to decide what she'll do with 'these' and, not waiting to discover with 'these' are, she quickly unleashes her own fire again. Obviously it's not from herself; she lights yet another match. Now knowing that it's possible to create flame, she finds this approach a little cumbersome. Jealousy of his power burns in her frowning eyes as they flash towards the daggers of ice.

Dropping the match, Aurelia disconnects the flame from it, holding it within her grasp. She spreads its wake into a larger orb. As the ice shoots for her, she reacts quickly. A ferocious swing of her hand sends the flames biting across their path like a fiery punch. A few whizz past her into the waters below, but she only accounted for the ones that would've hit her.

This time, she doesn't let go of what fire is left thereafter, reaching for it just as it's about to slip away into nothingness. So, with a determined grin and fire at her fingertips, she glares across at him. And she lets a laugh into the air that's both giddy and triumphant. "Ha! Whaddaya know? I might be useful after all! Hey Deimos!" Not one to wait on another challenge, she offers her own. The ball of flame crackles through the air, straight for Deimos' chest. "Catch!"
standing in the ashes of who I used to be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#8
Deimos
Deimos had come from a world that presumed everyone had magic. It was inherent, intrinsic, a force within one’s soul, an ancestry lined with prowess and precision – not to be cast away, not be demeaned, nothing to be ashamed of. It was far less natural for an individual to have naught at all, bereft, forsaken. Not until he arrived to Caido did the notion of carrying enchantments seem to be a disgrace – the lore depicting, altering, changing the way they were viewed.

And even then, he hadn’t cared. He’d carved his way through the harsh whispers and the scornful snarls, indifferent, apathetic, of their misplaced zeal and fervor. He knew his abilities. He knew what he intended for them. He knew how to protect. How to defend. And he was willing to pass that wisdom on for those yearning to learn; so they too could draw similar lines, could become shields and swords and shelters. Just like now. He had no inclination towards who this Milo was, but it was good to hear that other wielders felt similar.

Thereafter though, the Reaper would’ve thrived on the figment of fear apparent in her gaze, in the movement backwards. Intimidation had been its own weapon, to stalk, to maul, to tear, to heed the warnings he ensued. But the Sword didn’t comment on it, because he understood the eaves of terror, and only pressed, only encouraged –

And tilted his head at her actions, watching, witnessing, as the instinctual decree seemed to invoke its wake into her. The flames, from their matches, surged and ascended in a blaze of a punch (which made him want to laugh, because there had to be an easier way. Perhaps it was for showing off?), before dissipating, fading, fizzling, into harmless droplets of water. The monolith did allow another faint smirk then.

With a snort to follow, as she sought to cast fire back in his direction. Like a game, he did catch it, drawing the wealth of power, of control, and stopping it from hurtling straight into his chest. From there, he purposefully permitted it to grow, to billow, and then to fan out into cinders, embers, and coals. On a gust of wind, everything shifted and disappeared.

Unbothered and undeterred, the monolith persisted in his instruction. “And this?” Earthen wares beckoned from the embankments, elongating into long roots, vining outward, like gnarled, knotted fingers, intending to catch at her legs, snaking along and over the pool.
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 21 - Int:
Played by: Catalysta Away
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Posts: 1,182 | Total: 1,724
MP: 630
#9
Aurelia

Much to her delight, he does catch the fireball. For a brief moment, the spirit of the game is there as he enrages the fire with his own magic. In that moment, Aurelia wonders if she will have to catch this beast of a ball. Then all it takes is a whisper of recedence, and the wind takes the flames on its gusts.

A disappointed frown works across her chin. "Ah, you're no fun!" She calls to him, letting her arms fall to her side in exasperation.

At this point she thinks it might be over, that he may call it in favor of giving her a more detailed lecture on how's or why's. Which she wouldn't be totally opposed to. She's interested in hearing what he might have to say, but things were just starting to get interesting.

Only, he's snuffed out the start of her game in order to return her attentions to the real task at hand. She gets it, she guesses. They are here to train, after all.

The vines loop towards her with merciless reaches and at first she can only watch in horror as they wind towards her with impossible speed and single-minded intent. Sentient vines are something she's all too familiar with. It sharply brings back a memory from a place she no longer resides, of vines twisting around her limbs with intent to feast. She still bears the scars.

Another flame crests from her matchbook. It quickly leaps for vines that reach towards her, to singe them at the ends, to catch onto them and build across their exposed bits. The flames spread, if they can, but she focuses on backing up and trying to keep the vines closest to her at bay. Panic shakes through her, though, widens her eyes. One of the tendrils snags around her leg, an oversight on her part, and she tumbles down with an involuntary shout. "Damn it!" She grits her teeth, flames lost.
standing in the ashes of who I used to be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#10
Deimos
Contrary to her belief, Deimos thought he was ample amounts of fun. The snicker widened along her exasperation, rooted in those conspiring rounds of mischief eternally laden in his juvenile expanse. And perhaps they could’ve returned to the game, rounding out torrents of flame back and forth, forth and back, but it wasn’t the point of the day.

After, maybe, he could be a little more indulgent.

Unaware and ignorant of her circumstances, history, scars, or parallels between vines, heathen jungles, and misshapen plants, he found her reaction surprising. His brows knotted together as she conformed to the barrage, as she went towards her newfound adversaries with speed, to build up the inferno –

And then it was panic. The widening of her eyes, the horror of some other fragments he couldn’t see. He stilled the vines and roots for a moment, but didn’t pull them away – because this was another experience she’d have to learn and go through. He’d witnessed the same calamity on the battlefield, as soldiers froze, as warriors fell, as war drums echoed and bounded and collided in the back of his mind. Sometimes he felt it in his nightmares. Sometimes he could picture outlines of decrepit things and the fathoms of his grief come to surround, choke, and strangle him.

A breath inhaled, exhaled, and everything remained calm, even as she tumbled down into water and shouts. Aurelia was permitted to be frustrated, vexed, and exasperated, but not to the point where she remained locked and tethered. Not when there were other things, other moments, other monsters, other people – the horizon bleak and ominous, glimmering and emboldened. “You cannot give up,” and he didn’t know who he was saying it to – maybe both of them. “Try again.” Patience, composure, a breadth of calm when the world threatened – thrown to the wolves too many times, and finding the heathen shackles normal.
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 21 - Int:
Played by: Catalysta Away
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Posts: 1,182 | Total: 1,724
MP: 630
#11
Aurelia

"I'm not giving up!" She snaps from her prone position, shoving a forceful kick at the vine around her foot. "Fuck. Off. Stupid. Fucking-"

She's tempted to cut it off with the knife on her hip. However, that's not the point of the exercise and she reminds herself that she's not actually in real danger. Knowing he's just trying to help, she takes a single moment to pull in a deep breath. It stills her frenzy enough for her to quickly retrieve another match.

Within moments, the vines come alive with flames, fueled by her glare and a guttural, almost animalistic snarl that rises from deep in her chest. As much as they can be, the vines are demolished. She'll want to see nothing left of them when she's through.

From the charred remains and impossibly calm water, she stands up. Her eyes are still narrowed and her chest heaves once more with short breaths, but she is otherwise fine. So she keeps telling herself.

"Anything else!?" She asks him expectantly, tone soured by her inner storm, swiveling her hard stare against Deimos' own. Though her voice lacks any accusation or grudge, and instead is filled with stronger determination.
standing in the ashes of who I used to be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#12
Deimos
The tone received caused a narrowing of his eyes – a warning – while she tangled further into the folds of the vines. Without awareness of whatever caused the spark of anger and indignancy, he could feel the bestial wake of his own hostility, rage, and contempt rising in his chest. She’d asked him for assistance, for guidance, for instruction, and while he’d withstood several recent occasions in the volley of another’s wrath and belligerence, it was beginning to wear down the lines of his own composure. How many others’ tempestuous eaves did he have to stand within? How many times did he have to be the rock, the monolith, the tower, while everyone else growled and barked? Absorbing their ash, their cinders, their dust and disarray?

A mask of stoic indifference shifted, the piercing, penetrating weight of his stare offering the only caution sign she’d be granted – jaw feathering, tightening, arms folding across his chest. He watched in absolute silence while she finally conquered the vines, the flames flowing once more, the vengeance conspiring, lending, blending into the fallen greenery. They twisted and turned, stung and withered, decayed and dismayed, until they were only burnt edges, and receded back into the void – decimated and gone.

Then more sour notes headed his way, and he stood in the wake of her hardened gaze with his own. There was certainly more to be done, and her tenacity was something to be guided, but there were other factors at work simultaneously, and he wouldn’t be proceeding any further without addressing the blatant alterations in demeanors. “Take a break.” Zuriel snorted from her claimed grazing spot, and while he ignored the unicorn, the mare pinned her ears in Aurelia’s direction.

He tilted his head, but didn’t give way on his prowess, on his potential for ruin and demolition, settling and setting a boundary before they proceeded. “I do not deserve your temper.” His spine drew straighter, taller, rigid, unyielding, every inch a blade. “What is the issue?”
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 4 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 21 - Int:
Played by: Catalysta Away
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Posts: 1,182 | Total: 1,724
MP: 630
#13
Aurelia

Aurelia vaguely notices his minute, subtle warnings, his skepticisms of a nature that so evenly matches something like fire. Not to be contained, she stubbornly holds her ground in the wake of his unicorn's glare, doing her best to ignore the way it makes her feel much smaller.

His words cut through, however. Perhaps if he intended on putting her down for blatant anger, it might've inspired a flash of flames of the more metaphorical sense. "Nothing," she begins with a crack in her voice, her vein of indignance running true in spite of that.

Her heart still hammers against her chest and in the back of her mind she is still reeling, but years of training still account for something meaningful. Even if she cannot apply the uses of swinging blades or tracking footprints to this scenario, she can garner a veneer of steadiness. Still, it shakes, because he wants to know what the issue is exactly. "I don't know- the vines-" but she doesn't know how to describe it, at a loss for words for a moment.

"I've been through that before, when it was real. The only reason I made it out alive was because someone else was there," she admits, voice lowering with a frustration that is more centered on her own shortcomings.

There's a pause. "I don't want to go through that again. I don't want to be..." weak.
standing in the ashes of who I used to be
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 72 - Dext: 72 - Endr: 73 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
Played by: Heather Offline
Change author:
Posts: 6,559 | Total: 10,652
MP: 9824
#14
Deimos
Considering the amount of times he’d told others he was fine and nothing was amiss, placing it down, down, down into the regions of his chest, of his soul, where it could be suppressed for a space longer, Deimos didn’t believe her for a moment. So he waited, recomposing himself, filtering the reticence back into folds when there was a dimming of the temper, if not the indignation still remaining. He withheld an eyeroll – diminishing it for an inhale, an exhale, a moment where they caught the shackles and sent them outward.

For some reason, he didn’t expect it to be the vines. Chains and tethers, perhaps, because there were other traumas he could associate with similar nuances, but not the greenery itself. When it was real centered on past diversions and collected strife, and he dropped his arms down towards his sides, placated motions with the movement of the water, tracing the filaments, permitting them to rise and fall, while he listened, while he pondered.

Reliving upheavals was something of a second-nature in Caido – where aspects could prey upon one’s mind, where monsters searched and seethed, rambled and rallied, for the opportunity of exposure. To torture. Considering he only intended to orchestrate similar measures upon adversaries and enemies, his regrets came on a bowed head, eyes shifting to glance at the maneuvering ripples. “My apologies. It was not meant to torment.” No one’s tragedies were pooled along the surface; too deep, too broad, too vast, too many, but the predilections hadn’t been there, nor had abhorrence, vengeance, or some brutal, barbaric inclination.

He sighed, lifted his head only to glance off to the side, tracking and following Belial’s movements as the deer seemed to hunt down a rather large insect. “This world has a way of discovering what hurts us the most.” A warning, perhaps, that she’d have to experience something similar, something grinding, something lacerating, when the domains altered, seethed, and billowed. “But we have to ensure it does not overcome.”

Easier said than done, considering how seasons and cycles before, his illness and suffering had persuaded him to nearly perishing. The Sword swallowed down that trace of bile, before finally flickering his gaze back to her. “Let me know when it is too much.” And he wouldn’t try those aspects again.
Out of sight and out of mind
Make everything alright
So let the sky and sea collide
Just not in our lifetime


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