Mini Event hands off your fate, child
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
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#15

Wessex would be lying if she didn’t admit she was more than a little disappointed to see it was Maea coming back up the stairs instead of, say, Lucas. But there’s no time to get the story out of her, just an impassioned plea for some of them to go downstairs. Before Wessex can move, others are charging ahead and she is left with Edy and two hot messes. One needs the infirmary, the other… she shakes her head. If Are was waiting there with the rest of them as backup, he wasn’t going to be of use to anyone in that state.

Take care of yourself first. Then others. And he can’t even move.

With a sigh, the Ascended woman comes up behind the stricken cobbler and takes out one of her blades. While he’s gazing off into lalaland, Wessex takes the hilt and turns it around, wrapping a hand in her cloak before grasping the cross-guard and hitting him solidly on the temple, hoping to send the man to the ground. No way is she letting him go in there and endanger others. They’re in it to win, not fucking babysit.
---------------

Wessex knocks Are out so he can't enter the Spire, per Wiggen's request.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#16
”You would do well to heed your own words, Are son of Jorm,” the bard said coolly, but his quiet voice was nowhere near as cold as the ice in his blue eyes as they flickered but briefly to the man he had once aided… who now repaid his kindness with such venom. He did not like the lines that were being drawn… but no one could turn back the clock and undo the choices that others had made, choices that would affect everyone within the Hollowed Grounds, Outlander and Natural alike. Jigano might have stood reluctantly… but still he had come, knowing his experiences were, if not unique in Caido, still enough to save lives… if lives were, in fact, in danger.

His eyes flickered to Edrei, the ice softening at his fiery friend, but her temper was far too frayed for talk or rationality, and Jigano gave a slight shake of his head. But though he remained at least somewhat between his two unhappy friends he let Rory speak for himself of matters he knew best. ”No one, then or now, has shown much interest in planning ahead,” he said quietly, to both of them. ”That was all we were asking for: a little more time.” He and Rory had spoken of it before the mob had converged around the hunter’s leadership, and he knew the blond needed no reminding. Edy wasn’t much for planning ahead on the best of days, and far less when her temper was running high, but she might remember the words later, when she had calmed down a little.

She’d probably still ignore them, of course. But she’d know he had tried.

His moment with Rory was interrupted by the dead woman’s ignorant yapping, and for a moment something slid, dark and cold, behind his eyes. But, as she continued, he realized that she truly knew nothing of his movements and actions of the past several days, nothing of the information he had gleaned or the plans he had laid – nothing of what he had sought, so different than what she and Roana had wanted to force. Though he didn’t relax – not with the Spire open and impetuous fools still inside it – he simply shook his head, the look he gave her almost pitying. Here she stood, boasting about being a leader while she waited in safety outside the very Spire she seemed so possessive about, encouraging others to risk themselves for her like a coward who wanted the reward without doing the work.

”Just because you weren’t asking the right questions doesn’t mean answers weren’t being found,” he spoke, his voice still quiet and chill. ”Nor that they are all waiting for you in there,” he gestured to the open door, ”and not hidden away out here, where you were too impatient to look for them, once the constraints on the secrets of the last three hundred years began to fall.” Her talk of gods might have raised a smile on a better day. Admittedly, not one with much humor, but it was almost cute, nonetheless. She wouldn’t have made it past the degenerate demigod Hellion, much less to the final battle with Unity, in Divinity’s core. Defy a god? Wessex marched to one’s tune like a proper marionette. By her own words all those who had defended the Spire had defied a god – her god.

But he was given no chance to show her the error of her ways, not when Maea came stumbling from the Spire in a state of injury he had been dreading and hoping not to see from the impulsive would-be heroes who had dived in earlier. His eyes raked her as Are and Rory stepped forward to catch her, and he drew in a sharp breath of recognition at the symptoms.

Or at least, something close enough to raise chills down his spine. Something he’d never expected to find on Caido. He stepped towards her, kneeling for a moment to brush his fingers over hers gently in reassurance. ”You did well to bring us warning,” he told his student softly. ”Hang on. We’ll go after them, and bring them back, if we can.” Or at least… whatever was left of them, if it came down to it. Rising to his feet he met Rory’s eyes grimly, and then Amalia’s. He paused only long enough to fashion a mask from torn cloth before he abandoned Are to his fate, and the women to their waiting.
Leatherworker

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#17
Not a whole lot later . . .

The way up seemed so very far when he was so beaten. His skin was an irritated red, his breath wheezing; tears and grit leaked from bloodshot eyes. His nose and ears ran with vile pus, and the stink of the toxic gas was embedded in his clothes and hair.

But with the help of his summoned creature, similarly affected, he made it up. Out of the dark doorway plunged the small bear, Rory's hand still embedded in its scruff, the other holding the blood-slick handle of Kristopher's sword.

Once out in the open, fresh air he fell to his knees, the bear disappearing, slipping back into the folds of magic from whence it had came.

His heart was hammering in his sore chest, and he fell forward onto his hands, coughing violently and spitting out a vile-tasting, slimy and red-tinted mixture. Fucking hell. His shoulders shook, his stomach tensing up, and before he had a chance to think much more than oh no he threw up, and just like whatever he had spit out, it wasn't very pretty. Bile and blood and pus.

He bit back a whimper and crawled aside, still on his hands and knees.

He had tried, tried to get down there in case Lucas and Roana and Kristopher needed help getting out, but he was no warrior. He was just a goatboy. Besides, aside from the headless guy, they had been relatively fine.

"A healer," he rasped, blinking his blurry eyes, not sure if anyone was still up there with him; the world was dark and full of shadows. "We.. we need a healer."

Shaking, and uncertain of what to do with himself, Rory merely waited. Mostly his ears strained to hear Amalia and Jigano come up with him.

He didn't even want to think about what he'd do if they didn't.
Lucas Copperhead


Age: 38 | Height: 6'0 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 7 - Int:
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#18
Lucas
clever as the devil and twice as pretty
A healer? Maybe for the mortals among them, but Lucas needed something entirely different, thank you.

He arrived without flair or pomp, weaving unsteadily out into the night to where the others waited, to where Rory had just keeled over and where the air was clear and the night sky visible. Not that the Ascended could see particularly well.

Lucas tottered and fell just a short ways away from Rory, the Ascended's skin appearing strangely mottled, as if the fluid that sustained him had gone sour. "If anyone's got a spare throat handy," he slurred, "I got a thirst like it's no one's business. Thanks in advance..."
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
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#19

Wessex sighs. A big, heaping sigh-growl that betrays her frustration only to the unconscious Are, the mewling Maea, and Edy - who she plans on taking her frustrations out on later.

But then the older sister thing kicks in, and the survivalist thing is hot on its heels. She can feel the toxicity coming off them, but her first thought is of Rory. Rummaging through the cobbler’s bag, she finds a waterskin and opens it, finding it mostly full. It’s a luxury she doesn’t need to carry anymore, thank goodness. But there, in the dark of night, she plays fucking nursemaid and lives to see another day rather than dying in the Spire. A logical, perfectly acceptable trade-off, but one she’ll question in the aftermath of whatever comes next.

She whips off her cloak and places it over Rory, telling him, “Tilt your head back and open your mouth,” to pour a bit of the water in. “Swish. Spit.” Waiting until he hopefully can, and repeating. Then she moves on, squatting down beside him and reaching out with her other hand to help with her next set of instructions, which he will hopefully also comply with.  “Good. Keep it tilted and your eyes open.” And then she tries to pour a stream of water into his bloodshot baby blues, in a thoughtful, but perhaps less than effective attempt to treat the gas symptoms.

At least he isn’t dead. Those blows will come soon enough.

WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 Abandoned (Level 3 Ascended) - Strg: 19 - Dext: 14 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 9 - Int:
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#20
{Image: LcTF0ZT.png}
REXANNA

and yet i swear i love this earth,
that scars and scalds, that burns my feet.
At first, she ignored the lightning that illuminated everything. But as time went on, she grew more curious, more restless, unable to sleep until she found out what was happening. She grabbed little things in terms of preparedness, a jacket to cover her from the cold and she set out; following voices until it ended with her at the Spire yet again. And everyone was hurt in one way or another. Arguments, bickering, the usual; yet as she came closer, her legs taking her quickly as she ran on swift feet toward those fallen in the grass, she looked to all those gathered. “What the fuck happened?” A panicked voice as she grew closer, stopping only as she spotted Lucas on the ground. She didn’t hear his request, had come a hint too late to hear it, but she approached him quickly.

Dropping to her knees, her sapphire gaze slipped to his mottled body and the Spire looming above. Pulling her hair back she beheld Lucas with concerned eyes — he was, after all, a friend. “What do you need? What can I do?” She questioned, noticing how others rallied around the other fallen and how Lucas remained mostly alone. In that moment, she only cared about somehow helping him. She didn’t think of Bastien or the drama involving the Spire with the Outlanders and Naturals. She didn’t even look to Rory to notice Jigano wasn’t there. Rexanna only wanted to help.
and even hell is holy.
Lucas Copperhead


Age: 38 | Height: 6'0 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#21
Lucas
clever as the devil and twice as pretty
An angel arrived in the form of a dark haired beauty that Lucas recognised, vaguely, as Rexanna. He learned, in that moment, just what an Ascended's instincts were capable of. Not that he was the type to hesitate regardless, but in that moment of not-pain, of lingering between the lines of life and death, he knew nothing but action. "Shh..." he managed, getting an elbow under him so he could clumsily reach up and grab hold of any part of her that he could - clothes, hair, wrists, waist, he didn't care.

Wherever he ended up pawing, it would be entirely so that he could drag her against him, numb lips finding the crook of her neck, fangs sinking greedily into her. Blood, sweet and coppery, filled his mouth, and it was an antidote like no other.

Lucas drank deep and without care for Rexanna, without noticing or worrying about how much he took or about stopping. Ecstasy crackled through him, fresh blood washing his veins free of venom, and if anything he pulled her closer when sense began to return. He'd drink her dry unless stopped.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel
Baker

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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#22
AMALIA
you're staring at the sky
watching stars collide
Coughing, gasping, grasping a severed head, Amalia emerges from the dark.

The last few steps were torment, single-focused diligence the only thing which kept her going. Gritting her teeth, clasping her staff, she forced herself up stairs after stair, refusing to stop as her lungs burned and her muscles screamed and tears flowed from her eyes. Only the knowledge that Rory was ahead kept her going, his absence from the stairwell a promise that he is out. Lucas, too, had fled up the stairs, and Jigano must be behind, and Roana...

There will be time to dwell on that later.

The doorway is a rectangle of promise, lit by stars and lanterns and air, air which had never tasted so sweet, air which has never mattered so much before now. It feels like hours between those last few steps, but truly only seconds pass-

And then she is outside, her staff dropping to the floor, clawing at the scarf which covers her face in between powerful, hacking, burning coughs.

She coughs, and coughs, and coughs, tears and snot leaking from her face. Catching her breath, Amalia gasps: "Rory?!" her eyes darting frantically, her vision blurred by tears, and immediately begins to cough some more. She is on her knees upon the earth, but it is earth at least, the grass of Frey beneath her feet, and above is Safrin's sky, and in her left hand...

Another thing to think about later. She does not know who the head belongs to, only that it could not be saved. Just like Roana. Just like-

Wait-

No.

She doesn't realize she's screaming his name until she begins to cough again, her hoarse voice tearing at the damage in her throat. "JIGANO!" He isn't there, he isn't there, which means he must below, which means she left him behind-

Sobbing, coughing, she stumbles to her feet, lunging weakly at the open door. "Jigano!" He isn't there - he isn't there - she left, and he isn't there -

It feels like losing them, all over again.
Rexanna De Rosieres
the Penumbra
Queen of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 34 | Height: 5'4" | Race: Ascended x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#23
{Image: LcTF0ZT.png}
REXANNA

and yet i swear i love this earth,
that scars and scalds, that burns my feet.
He was exhausted, and as she closed into him he managed to prop himself up on an elbow. A split second and she was ready to push him back down to conserve his strength, but he was grabbing for her, grappling for any kind of hold he could. And despite the Ascended’s weakened body, he was able to grab onto her waist and pull her close. There was a second of hesitation, unsure of what he would do until she realized what he was going for. In her panic, she was fine with it – to save him, make him better. Bastien would surely understand. She only hoped that it would be an easy bite, having only two Ascended’s of experience for her.

So she leaned into him, tilting her head as his face rubbed against her neck and side of her face as he fumbled to find it, and when he did and held her closer, she pushed closer to him. But there was still a wariness within her despite the explosion of feeling. Part of her felt guilty for it, but another – the more reasonable part – assured her that it was what he needed to survive. And so she caved. She caved until the edges of her vision began to shift, to warble in an unsteady sort of blackness and when she moved her arms, she noticed they grew sluggish.

And yet Lucas kept drinking. And Rexanna wasn’t sure if he would stop.

With the last bit of her strength that she had, as the blackening vision continued to creep closer, she pushed herself up from him the best she could – a small shove at first, not nearly enough. “Lucas!” She whined, gathering up everything she could to shove her farther up and away, away from her neck before she blacked out. (It wouldn’t be the first time she’d blacked out from an Ascended’s bite, yet she hoped it would be the last). But she couldn’t sit up from him, sitting on top of him and free now, the darkness in her vision continuing to grow closer.

One hand sluggishly pressed to her neck, but she needed two to hold herself up from him – and in her weakness it felt like slow motion as she slipped from her vantage point back down toward him and to his side – eyes closing as she passed out with Lucas in the barren earth of the Spire.
and even hell is holy.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#24
The sleek creature who had gone into the Spire was a far cry from the dusty, bloodied, oozing man that emerged, coughing but still unbowed to catch Amalia in his arms and pull her against him. Grime and dirt streaked his usually immaculate clothing and darkened his mussed hair. Blue eyes were red above the linen mask that he tore away, drawing partial lungfuls of clean air in before coughing more smoke-laden air out again. He leaned against the side of the Spire next to the door, pulling Amalia with him and not sure he could get much further as he surveyed those who had fled before him, and those who had arrived since.

He would have raised a brow at Wessex's treatment of Rory, if so much as blinking didn't hurt. Lucas had escaped as well, and the Ascended was...

Well.

"It's alright," he tried to soothe the shaking friend in his arms, trying to ignore the feeding going on nearby. Rexanna was strong and knew what she was doing... but if she asked for help he would stumble over and help rap the overeager blond head off her. "Here, let me just..." He shrugged the bag of first-aid supplies off his back, pulling out the skin of boiled water and wetting some clean gauze, handing it to Amalia to wipe her face with while he did the same, wincing at the way his skin ached at even such minor contact.
Evie Ignatius
the Evergreen
Warden of Halo / Apothecarist

Age: 34 | Height: 5'5 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Halo
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#25
EVIE
like love is a bad word
Evie didn't realize that she'd been holding her breath until it poured in a painful surge from her lungs.

Rory and Amalia

Thick yellow smoke choked upwards and Evie cringed backwards smelling the strange almost sulfuric smell and hating it. But then she saw them and her heart sang and then plummeted.

She hadn't brought any supplies. Absolutely nothing.

"Oh fuck!" She whispered under her breath before racing to her friend's sides. With a slight look of unhappiness towards Jigano that she quickly erased, Evie collapsed next to them eyeing their injuries.

"Rory you—" She whispered, though she didn't see a scratch on him. Nor on Amalia. The one with the pale hair appeared to have a shoulder injury, but from what she could see, there was nothing obviously physically wrong with them.

the smoke?

"—idiot! The lot of you!" She concluded scoldingly, though her relief was palpable.

Both knew of her ability to heal and would likely know what it was that she so aggressively pulled them each into a hug, her magic flowing into them under the guise of happiness. Pulling back after hugging and pouring health into Amalia, Evie suddenly shrieked. "Please tell me that is not what I think it is.." She said worriedly, looking at the severed head Amalia had brought with her.



Evie sekrit heals Rory and Amalia!

Table by Sky!
Maea Valair
Hollowed Grounds Ambassador / Loreseeker

Age: 29 | Height: 156 cm / 5'1 ft | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#26
M
 A
  E
   A
I talked to God to no avail

Said, "If you won't save me, please don't waste my time."


Voices were speaking to her. Familiar voices, loved voices, whom she asked too much of. Their gentle hands steadied her and pulled the sword from her hands, placed her on the ground where she gasped, grateful for the chance to rest. Then silence, long and tense; Maea would have filled it with questions if she could but merely breathing was too much of a chore.

Then, a faint tremor moved from the ground and up through her, and running footsteps up the same stairs broke relief like a cooling wave over her burning, irritated skin. They came back. And healers were being summoned; good. Were they hurt though, had she done right in sending them down there, in asking them to risk themselves for others?

She couldn't breathe. All around her hands tended to one injured and soothed coughs, but Maea was left alone. Like a ragdoll thrown aside on the ground, forgotten and ignored for now... She wouldn't blame them, had brought this upon herself and should probably fix it by herself too. No one else would, so...

But then, someone was there. Not one of them, but a familiar silhouette in the dark, with strong hands that picked her up and carried her away from the Spire.
No one seemed to notice. No one seemed to care. And Maea was in too much pain to notice that not all of it stemmed from her harried lungs.

____________

Maea is brought to the infirmary by Emmett. :)

♦ Violence, magic, thievery is permitted with Maea at all times. DM me if you have any ideas ♦
Leatherworker

Age: 36 | Height: 175cm / 5'9 | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#27
He heard steps stumbling out after him, a looming presence against the dark sky and the Spire; it swayed and then crashed, near to where he was on his hands and knees, blinking his running eyes and frantically casting around. The relative blindness was terrifying, the unfamiliar voice asking for a drink had to be that other Ascended, so now it was just Amalia and Jigano that had to come up because Roana had thrown herself at the snake, or maybe the light—

A weight settled over his body and a shudder ripped through him at the sudden touch. A gasp passed over chapped lips, but Wessex was there. Her voice was steady, commanding, just as her presence. Whatever had happened earlier was forgotten, and Rory blindly obeyed, shivering as he leaned his head back and opened his mouth.

The water was a blessing and a curse, the cool, clear taste like a balm, the savage bite into irritated skin a whiplash against his already crumbling spirit. Obediently Rory swished it around in his mouth and then spat it out, biting back a whimper as he coughed violently again.

Rinse. Repeat. Tears and water mixed as it was poured into his eyes, ears strained for what went on behind him. A woman seemed to be with Lucas, and then another stumbled out the Spire—Amalia, coughing, his name mixed somewhere in with her breaths. "I'm here," he croaked. It was only Jigano left now, but there was no sound of footsteps...

The seconds stretched, the cold dread forming and then breaking as Amalia's broken voice cried out his name in desperation—

"NO!" Rory screamed, foolishly trying to throw himself around, away from Wessex and her careful ministrations, towards the Spire, towards.. towards Jigano, who had asked for his forgiveness for entering; Jigano, who had touched his shoulder and told him to go; Jigano, who was..

Oh. Through his blurred, burning vision he saw Amalia collide with a tall and slender shape in the Spire's mouth, one that he knew without being able to see the details.

Fear and resentment fell back into the pit of pain, and Rory coughed again, sinking back on his hands and knees by Wessex.

Then Evie was in front of him, and he blinked his bloodshot, irritated eyes at her, wishing he could make out the expression on her face instead of just seeing a pale blur ringed with moonlight-bronze. "Had to try and get them out," he rasped in defense, though she was right: he had been an idiot for going in. What had he thought to achieve? He wasn't strong enough to carry a body out, not brave enough to stay and face a huge snake made of stone when his body was dying.

Why had he gone in at all?

It didn't matter. Evie enveloped him in a painful but relieving hug, and as best as he could he returned it, trying to pat her on the back, trying to not melt into the sensation of relief at being alive—

Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot

The worst of the blur cleared from his eyes, along with the worst of the irritation on his skin and in his lungs. Reluctantly he let her go, watching her give the same blessing to Amalia, then shriek as she saw Kristopher's head. Rory winced. He had thought about grabbing it but between holding on to the bear and the guy's sword, he hadn't had enough hands, nor any real desire to.

He sat back shakily on his heels, and reached out a trembling hand to grasp Wessex's wrist. But he found no words to express what he felt, so he was silent, his clearer eyes searching for hers for a moment before he gave in to a new fit of coughing.
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#28
Maea was taken away by a man he assumed was her friend. The apothecary arrived and took charge of his companions and Jigano was too distracted by his own blurred vision to catch the brief look she shot him. Just breathing was an effort, though he still didn't feel as bad as his friends looked. Some of his toughness from his old body must have survived the transition, he thought wryly to himself as he mopped his face again, and tended to himself as best he could with his meager supplies. He blinked in surprise as Evie shrieked, following her gaze to the severed head that hadn't been there when he'd left...

He grimaced, the mangled features unfamiliar, but from the lack of blood he would guess it had belonged to an Ascended. A soldier who had died for... what? The snake wouldn't have let Ascended pass through the portal, of that he was almost certain, given how it had reacted to Lucas. But either way, the portal that might have led them to freedom was gone, leaving the barrier in its entirety as their only means of escape.

He sighed, then winced as another cough wracked his shoulder. It was bruised, certainly, possibly cracked, and as Wessex strode into the Spire he blearily saw that Rory was sitting up and looking a bit better after whatever assistance Evie had been able to render. He nodded gratefully to the apothecary before making his slow, aching way to the hunter's side. Crouching wasn't comfortable - nothing was comfortable, when every breath was a burning wheeze - but he managed it. "Can you hold this?" he murmured, offering Rory the end of the roll of gauze and pulling a stretch of the thin fabric out before raising it to his mouth to nip a tear in it so he could rip it apart with one hand and his sharpened tooth. Fashioning a crude sling for his wounded arm he looked around again, feeling his chest tighten as he realized there were still several people unaccounted for. Zariah and the assassin he could live without, but Samuel had gone in, and he hadn't been in the downstairs...

Looking to Amalia and Rory he nodded grimly and then tried to stand, stumbling as another cough wracked his lean frame in the middle of the motion. When he had recovered from the pain that arced from his shoulder at the jostling he finished straightening and pushed his dusty hair back. "Sam's still in there," he said simply. "I can't ask you to come with me... but I can't leave without knowing whether he's..." A glance to Kristopher's severed head spoke volumes, and the bard swallowed blood and snot, trying not to think about how badly he needed a healer. But Kalt had already gone upstairs, so maybe...

Blue eyes burned red with smoke turned to the blond head beside him, and Jigano hesitated, uncertain what to say. To ask the man who had become his closest friend to come with him, possibly into more danger, or to beg him to get to safety... In the end he could do neither, bowing his head and awaiting the decision that Rory came to on his own.


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