[DROP] Teine ​​is fortan

LILY

cover your crystal eyes
and let your colors bleed and blend with mine

Silly fire business indeed. The two of them are separated from the others and for a moment, she looks around in confusion. The fuck did the lady think she was doing, playing on her private thoughts? But then the ring of flames encircles them and the redhead has to acknowledge that she has no need for her own torch - throwing it in the wide wall of fire as if it might stave off its advance.

Surprise, surprise. It doesn’t.

She presses towards him as the circle grows smaller, fearful, but without managing to lose her head. She has nothing in her arsenal that can withstand fire, and she knows it. Instead, Lucas comes to her rescue. Again, this time, they are cast in shadow and it seems to be able to withstand the flames. Lily doens’t question it it - taking Lucas’s offered arm with a grip that might be slightly tighter than necessary, she walks with the blonde man through the flames, hopefully unscathed, ‘cause their faces are just too pretty to burn.

WESSEX

Not today, weird fire spirit Lady. NOT. TODAY.

She is thrown together with Amalia and Maea and though she could care less about the latter, her own skin and that of the banker's are precious to her. Wessex snarls, her face contorting in the vicious light of the flames, reminiscent of that night when she stood behind the bonfire of the Festival of Light and fell in with Rory. Then, she was filled with disgust and hatred, with a need to do something about the Outlanders - now, the power of one of them sparks to life in her hands and she is begrudgingly grateful for their presence. Well. Some of them.

The fire feels malleable. Hers to control. The Ascended holds her hands up and tries to stop them from closing in on the trio, and then indicates that a break should be made in the ring, big enough for them to safely walk through in a single file. “Go. I'm right behind you.”

If they all make it safely through, Wessex will try and call the woman's flames back to her, so that they disappear into little flame that dances on the palm of other hand. Impressive enough for you, bitch?

No, I’ll be the stone
I’ll be the hunter, a tower that casts the shade
I lie awake and watch it all

Amalia I took the stars from our eyes and I made a map I knew that somehow I could find my way back Unimpressed. The spirit gowned in fire is unimpressed with them, but Amalia does not have time to process and fall into despair before she is tugged, torn away from her place in the shadows and thrust into a circle of light. Of fire. And Wessex and Maea are there. Her first thought is to shift. The leopard skin is protective, armor for frightening situations which frees her from constraints of human form. She could easily leap above the ring if flames, escaping unscathed. But that thought is quickly replaced as she looks at her companions... And especially Wessex, whose inorganic body is suceptible to burns. Wessex, who watched her when she was a child, teaching her the basics of combat. Wessex, who she left behind once before. Wessex, who is come to save her again. One thing to do, then. "Stay close!" Amalia cries, pushing Maea ahead of her, arms extended around the albino girl to- to what, exactly? She isn't sure, only knows that Maea's pale skin has always been suceptible to burning and there has to be some way to keep it safe. Not that she doesn't trust whatever Wessex is doing. But better to be safe. She wishes she still had her cloak, that she could somehow develop characteristics of a more useful animal than the leopard, something with wings, perhaps- And as she will it it occurs. Amalia's arms shift and change, growing into the great wings of an owl, though lined with dense leopard fur rather than flammable feathers. This is new, but the girl does not question it now. Instead she attempts to envelop Maea in her new appendages, providing an extra layer of defense while they  escape through the gap in the flames. Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too So I stayed in the darkness with you

DEIMOS Delivered from the blasts It came as no surprise to the Reaper that the fire woman’s obtuse, enigmatic quandary yielded responses not to her liking. This was how the world worked. This was how deities manipulated. This was how realms fell apart and kingdoms crumbled to the ground. This was how leaders bellowed and called to their soldiers, and this was how their compatriots died. His features turned, shifted, to complete, utter apathy, the indifference lined along his brows. He could just leave; have no part in the rest of the ridiculous venture, called and summoned to be dragged along the coals with the rest of the gathered. The beast thought about growling and simply vanishing into the shadows, back to where he’d come from, out of sight and out of mind again. Thereafter, he wasn’t given an option. Her own howl ricocheted off of the brambles and branches, the thorns and the nettles, harking out circles of fire – a measure, a tactic, to make them earn their escape. If it were just him within the container, he’d think nothing of rampaging straight through the flames, the inferno, the combustion suddenly surrounding them, for he’d lived amidst combustion and torment, and knew very well he’d do it again. But another was trapped and ensnared right alongside him: a complete stranger, redhaired, stumbling back into Deimos’ frame. In any other situation, he would’ve arched a brow, snorted, or cast some dark, inept joke. But in the present, he only had time to nod and extend his name, “Deimos,” keen and blunt, to the point, before Ianto transformed, and the beast’s military mind was a swift, calculating thing. The fox climbed up his shoulders, settling there across the broad figures, and thanks to interactions with Kiada, it didn’t send the Reaper into any sensation of alarm. In fact, his entire cranium coiled into armaments and pursuits, into machinations and schemes, as the ring of fire threatened to enclose. A sudden hum flowed along the intricacies, there all along, pulsing and guiding – he shot out a hand, breathed in deeply, and remembered, recalled, the instant with the throwing knives. If he could create them simply out of need, out of want, what could he do now? Stones began to take shape along the earth below his feet, aligning themselves into a bridge form, wide and sturdy enough to hold both of their figures, forming over the embers, the smoke, the blaze. Swiftly, quickly, he and Ianto stepped upon the bridge, and off, onto the other side. the last of a line of lasts

RORY

i told the stars about you

So far, this hadn't been worth it. There was some kind of trauma building in the back of his mind, scratches across his soul, a scathing voice: you left the Hollowed Grounds like it was nothing, for this?

Pitifully, he tried to tell himself that he had been dreamwalking, that he hadn't meant to, that.. that.. that at least the river was pretty?

(That was a lie: the river was more than pretty, like nothing he had ever seen before. It rushed and roared and sang, wider and more alive than he could even have imagined something could be. And the trees, oh, the trees, the underbrush, it hurt his heart like a dull, aching throb, mourning for the dust he had come from and though so vibrant—his poor, beautiful world, which turned out to be just dirt.)

But he didn't have time to wallow in misery about the outburst from the strange woman, because he was tugged from his position on the periphery and thrust almost intimately close to a complete stranger. Rory was acutely aware of the fact that he was dressed only in a long, dark cloak and a tunic beneath that. The cold night air swirled around his bare legs, but he had more immediate concerns than his state of undress.

Fire.

It whispered in the air around them, sudden and close, and this time, this time Rory balked. Fire was not his friend. A pale hand snaked out from beneath the cloak, touching the scar on his neck as his eyes widened and he could feel his pulse thrumming through his fingers—

His partner-in-fire-circle said "fuck" and then blocked parts of the fire with a creature, leaping out, but Rory was somewhere else (Long Night, that burst of fire soaring through the night air and crashing into his chest and face and he was fallingfallingfalling).

Both his hands went up to his face as he breathed in the oxygen-deprived air, the hungry flames licking the sanity and life from him.

He had no clever skills, and the ring of fire was tightening around him.

He couldn't impress anyone, not like this, he didn't want to, anyway, he just—just—just—

The night was black beyond the firelight.

Sweat trickled down his face, his spine, and with what meager control he possessed he bade the fire to lean away, to not touch him, to not bite into his skin, to not ruin the cloak Amalia had so kindly loaned him...

Should the fire ring close further and begin to touch (harm) him, he would have only one option; to collapse through the flames and try to roll out from underneath them.

Had he been slightly less terrified he would've thought about how it was likely not going to impress anyone, but he wasn't thinking: he was just a trapped mess of memories and neurons.

M  A   E    A I talked to God to no avail Said, "If you won't save me, please don't waste my time." Maea felt herself being shoved back, into the bodies of Amalia and Wessex and locked in place by a prison of fire. For a heartbeat she is numb with surprise, frozen in place by the habit of old helplessness. But only for a heartbeat. Then new determination kicks in, and on instinct that rings through her blood the girl reached out for the water of the river, pulled it towards her and raised it up to mold around her skin, and hopefully around the skin of her companions; like a protective cocoon against the flames, shivery cold and wet and quickly soaking through clothes. Leaving only the face uncovered so that they could breathe, Maea felt Amalia's arms wrap around her protectively - arms, feathers, wings!? - thought she saw the flames part by some trick of Wessex', and together she attempted to walk out with the others. "That's a new trick" she remarked at Amalia with a hint of a smile, awe and envy as always warring within when it came to this girl. "Thank you. Thank you, both". She nodded to Wessex as well, curious about the control she had over the fire. How...? It had only taken seconds, but the whole situation left her bewildered. How quickly had her new ability even developed, for something like this to be possible? Why was Amalia so quick to help her now, when they'd barely spoken properly in years? She was grateful, touched by the gesture... and the questions never stopped as she looked up at the spirit woman, wary of any new tricks. If they indeed escaped the flames, she would let the water quietly drain away, seeping past stepping feet and obstacles until it was returned to the river. Leaving not a drop behind, så she returned what she had borrowed.

Through a chimney of earth the alchemist and the bard appear, leaping easily away from their ring of flames.

Unfortunately for Adam however, the fire is magical and so while Coffee is able to withstand the inferno for moments at a time, the ring simply continues around the dragon, and the Outlander finds himself walking through the flames and burning himself. Though Rory waits for too long, the flames singeing his long hair, the age-old stop-drop-roll method indeed serves him well and he rolls out without too much harm.

For Are and Phoebe however, trying to jump over a ring of fire that begins at their waists and is more than a foot wide will prove to be quite foolish. The pair land in the flames and must stutter and jump away, having received painful burns.

As a fox Ianto is able to quickly leap from Deimos ' tall shoulders, and though the abandon's magical control is weak and his staircase flimsy at best, his height allows him to jump over the ring using his stones and land unscathed on the other side.

Fire vs. Shadow, but the ascended's more powerful magic prevails. Lucas and Lily are able to easily stroll through the shadows.

Wessex use of powerful fire magic breaks the ring instantly and thought Amalia and Maea lend their own talents to ensuring their protection, the fire is no match and they too stroll through unharmed.

"Enough! What are ye' doin? Callin' em to ye like this only ta' torture? Be gone ye devilish creature!" Though this voice seems to come from the woman, it is the older voice heard previously, and not the mischievous one which had asked them questions and forced them into fiery prisons.

With a cackle, the woman is suddenly enveloped in fire as she disappears. However just before she does, her enigmatic form breezes over Jigano and Rory, and the pair appear haloed in light for just a second, before the scene entirely returns to normal.

---

Those who escaped realistically earn +1 rolls for this drop; Remi, Jigano, Ianto, Lucas, Lily, Wessex, Amalia, Deimos, Rory
Those who did not escape realistically receive burns:  Adam. Are, Phoebe

Congratulations to Jigano and Rory!