EVENT #5: SOVEREIGN CITIZENS (VENERA)

[aionmods]

Sovereign Citizens

VENERA

In contrast the Aion's last visit, they now arrive in Venera on a completely average day... or so it seems. Unlike Godsblood, Venera has been given no warning as to what's about to befall it; the Kenoma are simply authorized to arrive and begin their bloody work without fanfare. Even their entourage of Achamite soldier don't stick out that much; in the time since the plague left, the city has refilled with occupying forces. Notably, the Hylician ones seem to be keeping out of the way, almost as if they've heard some things and would rather not be involved too closely in what's to come.

As opposed to the ghost town it was during the plague, Venera is now reasonably active, with most attending to their usual business. Shops are open, and its people are withdrawn but superficially friendly when meeting strangers. Initially, the targets of the Kenoma hit list will have no way of knowing what's coming for them, but after the first couple attacks word will begin to spread. Those that have recently been engaging in seditious behavior will become harder to find, leaving their usual homes and workplaces to stay elsewhere, and making other attempts to escape the Regent's attention.

Once those alerts have been raised, the Kenoma will have to engage in more detective work to find their targets, questioning other Venerans and seeking out fugitives in the homes of their family and friends. In the meantime, some of those who believe they are in danger may become desperately enough to seek out the Pleroma directly, imploring them for aid. Unfortunately, seeking out one sect may just as easily draw the attention of the other. Most uninvolved Venerans will be too terrified to intervene one way or another, reluctant to aid in the persecution of their neighbors but fearful of consequences. If your Aion travels openly, it will take some effort to pin them down long enough to hold a conversation.

SEEDS OF DESPAIR

Several days into the culling of Venera, the Aions will have witnessed the city gradually withdraw into itself. The streets become vacant as more and more people decide it isn't worth the risk to be seen outside, abandoning work and play alike to hide out in their homes, refusing to answer their doors to all except the most desperate pleading. Those that can't avoid their daily obligations are quiet and morose, trying their best to remain unseen and unremarked upon.

If your character has been observed as a Kenoma, either now or in their previous visits to the city, the citizens will look upon them as if they are the messengers of death. If you are seen as a Pleroma, they will resist your gaze, as if fearing your presence alone might leave them marked. In rarer cases, you will see those with stronger spirits, with glares of hatred or determination. They are powerless now, but seeds have been sewn, and whether they are the seeds of despair or of action are yet unclear.

By the time the Kenoma's hit list has been fully addressed, several have been killed and several more have been rushed from their homes to flee the city entirely. There have been holes left in the tapestry of the community they were once part of. One way or another, their absence will be felt keenly by those they left behind.

QUESTIONS

What is the best way for Aions to travel to Venera?
Estinien has plans to get an early start for the Pleroma by teleporting to the Lover's shrine and flying somewhere closer to set up a portal from the ocean caves near the Godsblood Lodestone to a spot of farmland closer to Venera. Paul will be setting up a portal directly from Achamoth to one of the Achamite outposts in Venera.

How much force can the Kenoma use while interrogating Venerans?
While they are generally not permitted to kill Venerans who haven't tried to physically fight them, they will be permitted to apply both physical and mental pressure upon those that refuse to provide them with information regarding the whereabouts of their targets. This duress should be proportional to the resistance the Veneran is offering. The Regent is not inviting them to terrorize Venera on a level to a level they cannot reasonably blaim themselves for.

Comments

ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ▸ the innocence strikes back.

[subsist]

day 9, let me take the fall.
conga line part ii | cw: eye trauma

Once the initial shock wears off, the pain is almost unbearable. Kaeya can't tell if it's all because his shard has just been gouged out of his eye or more so because it's an enemy that's now holding onto it. Blood drips down from the gaping wound, staining his clothes, staining his hands. Blue hair is now matted and sticky with blood and dirt, covering up the worst of it, but it hardly hides just how bad it is. There's still ice left behind from when he tried to freeze them both in place, but it's all cracking, falling apart at the seams. (Un)luckily, his body is still caught in Estinien's tail, or he would have staggered backwards as the adrenaline is finally drained out of him.

One hand absentmindedly crawls up press against the right side of his face as if it's going to help. His mind is scrambling. The pain is too much. There's blood all over him. Estinien is still capable of taking him out in one more shot. And for a split-second, he wonders, is Ryunosuke—?

It isn't a thought that lingers for too long.

There's no strength left in his body, and every inch of him hurts beyond belief. Breathing is slowly becoming harder and harder to manage, as if the air is slowly being robbed from him, stolen just like his shard. A piece of him gone, just like that, and— (it's so difficult to keep his thoughts straight, his mind keeps wandering from one end of the spectrum over to another, what's his next move, what is he supposed to do now). He looks up at the one who delivered him his retribution, starry eye narrowing at the claws wrapped tightly around crystalline black and blue.

When he sees red, it's all he can focus on. He reaches for it despite knowing it's going to be a futile attempt. It's not over until he's dead, so until then, he needs get his shard back, no matter what it'll take.

[coerthantorment]

It's easy, in the end. He's spent a long time wondering, by now, how best to incapacitate the Kenoma. He'd learned the possibility of removing their shards from the Kenoma's own, but there has been so much hesitation regarding the idea. Ethics. Humanity.

No. No more. If they are to hunt the Pleroma, hunt innocent civilians, then they will be hunted in return. As Kaeya feebly reaches for his shard, Estinien pulls it away from him, getting to his feet. The ice that tried to hold him is breaking, his opponent going limp as his strength is drained from him. Good. So be it.

Blood drips from the shard in his hand, and he feels no regret at all.

He uses the grip of his tail to toss what remains of Kaeya's body aside, no longer wishing to be burdened with it. Slowly, he approaches the Kenoma's prisoners. Ryunosuke and Thoma, both imprisoned here. To think that they could have been taken to Achamoth to be poisoned and ruined. Unacceptable.

He steps over the remains of the ice wall, its pieces rapidly melting away. Without a word, he reaches to Ryunosuke's bonds, gripping them in his claws and tearing them loose with a single swipe.

[locumstudentesquire]

Ryunosuke struggles to his feet about as quickly as he can manage, given that he's been stuck sitting in one place for the vast majority of the last 24 hours... But pinched nerves aren't the only reason for his wobbly movement. He's rattled; from the uncertainty born of overhearing the fight going on outside, from the explosion of violence that made its way in here in just the past few minutes... From Estinien's roar, which is still ringing in his ears, despite Kaeya's ice barrier taking the brunt of it.

Wordlessly, he immediately turns partway to let his fellow Pleroma take care of the ropes that are ted around his wrists as well, his injured arm aching dully. He should thank Estinien now. He wants to. His gratitude cannot possibly be overstated and, frankly? He's realizing he should have had faith in the man all along... Because if anyone were able to track him and Thoma down, it would be him, wouldn't it?

Ryunosuke can't get the words out, though. He's... Distracted. Busy directing an oddly blank, boggle-eyed stare over in the direction where Estinien just tossed the very Kenoma who locked him up here in the first place. As his hands are freed he diverts, briefly, to raise them and try to rub some feeling back into his wrists. The abrupt motion of his injured arm, after leaving it motionless for so long, makes him wince. He glances at his hands then, noting a smear of blood... Definitely not his own. Estinien's? Or...

He feels incredibly queasy.

"Is... Is he...?" he starts to ask faintly, his stare over on Kaeya once more. He can't finish the question.

[emblazer]

Thoma's eyes had blown open wide over the course of the fight, watching his sort-of-friend absorb so much damage to the point where Thoma isn't sure if anyone could have survived the onslaught. Still tied up, he can't do much more than watch, his face pale, fighting off the growing tightness around his lungs and throat.

Even knowing they had no other choice, it still aches to see someone he could have been allied to and could have fought alongside were they both still in their world in such a broken down state. He knows there is some kindness in Kaeya –knows this is far from what he deserves–, yet there had been too many Venerans who had been executed as a result of the actions of the Aions from Kenoma. Kaeya is far from an innocent party in this ordeal, so there was never any other way this was going to end.

Lowering his head, Thoma looks away, trying not to crumble right here in front of Ryunosuke and Estinien. They need his strength and support to get out of the city safely with the other rebels. He can't afford to mourn right now.

"All that matters is that he won't pursue us any further. Someone will come for him."

Hopefully, Gray or one of the other kinder Kenomas will find Kaeya and try and salvage what's left of him.

[affal]

The still air outside the storehouse is stirred by the beating of a second pair of draconic wings; having heard the roar, Makoto had scarcely thought before he had lifted off to pursue. Upon his approach he learns of the violence that has been happening here in the moments prior, written in sloppy scrawls of scarlet across the grass and dirt, splattered across the splintered doors of the building and half-frozen where it mixes in with the ice just now beginning to melt on the floor. In these few, precious seconds of his approach, the demon stops the process of conscious thought. His months of martial training have taught him one thing: everything that he'd learned in the social and political battlefields of hell would need to be recalled in inverse when embroiled in a real fight. You can't overthink it. Sometimes, you scarcely have time to really think at all. He has found his most success when he empties his mind, opens his eyes, and tries to absorb every scrap of information possible. Process it. Act accordingly, act without thinking.

Two captives. Estinien standing in front of one — Ryu — severing his bonds. Kaeya... or, rather, Kaeya's body, thrown to the side with a trail of blood leading towards it like an exclamation point. True Sight means that Makoto immediately perceives the risk here. His fellow Kenoma's, and one-time savior's, shard is not in that body, but instead glows with a subtle blue essence in the claws of the dragoon. He knows immediately what he has to do. If he had time to think about it, he would think that it's stupid — lunatic, even, and that's for a demon who had rightly lost his mind somewhere in the last three or so years regardless —

Well, it's a good thing he's not stopping to think about it.

As soon as he gets within range, just outside of the busted-in doors of the warehouse, he brakes; huge wings flare out behind him to stop his momentum, his left hand quickly sketches out four lines, and then he vanishes. He could have simply flown in, but how precious would those scant few seconds of him crossing fifty feet in approach have been? He cuts them out entirely to maximize the element of surprise, reappearing almost instantaneously behind Estinien and slightly to the side closest to the hand clutching the shard.

It's with a sizable amount of bitterness (and perhaps a little envy, as well) that he recognizes that the percentages of "dragon" and "man" within his adversary seem to have readjusted since they last encountered one another. Makoto's plan had been one commonly in-line with his method of fighting — he wastes no time in slashing with the long dagger in his right hand, and where its keen edge might have cleanly cut through the triceps where they insert at the elbow on any unarmored human opponent, here it merely glances off of the diamond weave of draconic scales. His breath catches in his lungs, half a hissed curse clenched in his jaws. Don't panic. Readjust. Reassess. It's all he can do to gather up still air in his wings and try to launch himself up into the air and out of the immediate range of that spiked tail.

[coerthantorment]

"I hold the only part of him that matters," Estinien growls softly, feeling none of the trepidation Ryunosuke and Thoma do. "He'll survive."

Estinien is hypervigilant as he frees Ryunosuke, his heart pounding in his chest, in his ears, in a way that feels excessive given his victory over Kaeya. He supposes it's because he isn't expecting it to be just Kaeya, not when this play has been holding multiple prisoners. One on one he was secure in his abilities, but without knowing what surprises the enemy might have on hand...

Surprises just like Makoto showing up on wing. Thankfully, it'll be a great many years until the sound of wings doesn't trigger a full red alert in Estinien's mind, and so his attention is on that door as soon as the demon arrives. It's not a pleasant image to him. His already swiftly beating heart seems to lurch with particular violence, his head feeling hot with anger and stress, his claws and fangs thirsting to shake the life out of that miserable little body...

But those thoughts go on hold in the face of the magical gesture he makes. He assumes for a moment that it will be an attack of some sort, and shoves Ryunosuke out of the way before turning to shield Thoma - but then Makoto just disappears.

Teleportation, or invisibility, he isn't sure which. He suspects the former, but still isn't sure about it, even as Makoto abruptly reappears, driving a dagger down along his scaled arm. He didn't feel the air stir. It has to be instantaneous. His grip tightens over Kaeya shard, backhanding reflexively in the same moment he whips with his tail, just as he predicted. What Makoto may not have predicted is the snarl that follows, and more importantly, the burst of flame that rises from his throat.

Aiming for where Makoto's trajectory is most likely to take him, he spits a ball of concussive flame.

[epiprocta]

It takes him a split second after screeching to a halt at the edges of the scene to even understand what he's looking. That earsplitting roar hadn't been difficult to recognize, of course -- it's the last thing he remembers hearing in Venera for a while before his eardrums had been blown out, leaving his foggy memories of this city stained with a persistent tinnitus ringing throughout -- and he knows to expect Estinien's presence when he heads towards the scene of all the chaos. But everything else ...

... honestly, it all just makes him want to turn around and leave.

Kaeya's body lying limp on the ground, a vivid streak of blood directing the eye right towards that insufferable fuck. The prisoners, who he barely gives a shit about, seemingly freed from their bindings. And that shape flying overhead, backlit starkly by an incoming swell of flames, recognizable mostly thanks to the curve of those massive wings -- M. The thought occurs to him that maybe he should stay just long enough to watch M get roasted to a crisp, then leave before anyone spots him and he gets embroiled in this mess. He really, truly does entertain that option.

Right until the grind of dirt under bootsoles just off to his side reminds him that he hadn't come here alone -- he'd run into Eustace on the way to dashing to this scene. Eustace, who's probably still wearing that stupid, stoic, stony expression on his face even as he looks at this absolute mess. Eustace, who would probably promptly intervene to save those ungrateful asses, costs be damned, because he's a soldier or whatever. Eustace ... who he thinks is obnoxious in many ways, but who had offered him his support to no personal gain.

-- aah, fuck.

This is mostly for Eustace's sake, Gen tells himself as he takes a sharp breath, then lunges forth. If Eustace weren't here, then he would have done a 180 and left. This is fucking stupid. If this goes badly, he's going to blame Eustace for it. But this is what Eustace is probably expecting from him, so --

Gen snarls as he gives a wide swipe of his arm, the motion swinging wide and weighty like he's hurling a heavy object. And while his hand is empty, something does go hurtling Makoto's way: a chunk of the ground ripped out from below him, sent flying upward to intercept the path of the incoming fireball. Dirt and rocks explode in the path of the flames, enveloping Makoto in a cloud of dust; it's an inelegant solution, and while Makoto will probably be left filthy, covered in soot and singed by embers in the wake of that intervention, at least he'll emerge in one piece.

Too bad the dustcloud hiding Makoto from view in that moment probably means Estinien's eyes are naturally drawn to the interlopers who have entered the scene.

[lockedon]

Eustace follows behind Gen, eyes and ears largely focused on sweeping from side to side and behind them. The roar is impossible to miss even from a distance, and there's no telling who else it might have attracted, friend or foe. There's not exactly a bevy of Kenoma Aions guarding the storehouse-turned-temporary-prison, its battered remains coming into view the longer they run, and while he has general faith in Kaeya's ability to protect himself, he's never preferred to leave things solely to chance and the intangible concept of hope.

Once again, he's unloading his gun from his back as he skids to a stop, fully prepared to once again press his finger against the trigger against another set of wings. It's what Flamek was made for, after all, long-range destructive power, ideal against aerial primal beasts—and Estinien looks more beast than man right now, scales wrapping around his body and wings and a tail erupting from behind.

But the sight he takes in - a second pair of wings in the air, Kaeya's bloodied body absent its usual aura, the dark glow surrounding Estinien's hand instead - alters the trajectory of his original plan. Gen, too, makes his decision for him, leaping forward to join in the fray, a rumble of earth all the warning he gets before dust and debris suddenly fill the air like fireworks, masking him momentarily from view.

It's an opportunity and he takes it, shoving his gun back into its holster before dashing towards Kaeya's fallen body. His mouth thins into a grim line at the sight of a single eye still open, a mouth gasping in pain, that arm feebly cutting through the air towards the man holding his very essence in his hands. Sorry to Kaeya who will never make it to his goal, interrupted by Eustace shoving his own hands underneath Kaeya's body and lifting him up into the world's worst princess carry. Beggars can't be choosers and they definitely don't have time now to be picky.

He hates the idea of leaving Makoto and Gen to face off against Estinien alone, but he also needs to get Kaeya to safety before his body gives out. No choice about it. Pitching his voice loud enough to be heard, he shouts out:

"Hold him off until I get back!"

Or someone else gets here, either or. Again, there's not exactly a lot of room to be picky here.

[affal]

There is little love lost between the demon and the dragoon, but for the time being (and for once) he doesn’t allow himself to become distracted by a sudden squall of bitterness whipping up in his heart. Right now this confrontation isn’t about them. It’s about the shard that Estinien now holds in a clawed, iron grasp, one that Makoto very heavily doubts he’ll be able to wrest from him now that he’s lost the element of surprise. As he lurches backwards, his quick reflexes save him from the sharp spines jutting from that elbow claiming a second eye for the dragoon today, but he isn’t fast enough to escape the full range of the tail. It thumps across his chest, opening up a narrow gash across one shoulder through several layers of cloth and skin; the force of it causes him to nearly lose control of his place in the air. It’s in those precious few seconds that he’s overcompensating to recover from the blow that, had Gen not interfered, Makoto might have been completely unprepared for the fireball that was sent his way. The bright flash of light draws his gaze, and his eyes fly wide.

But then Gen does interfere, causing a slab of earth and stone to wrench free from the ground below and interject between the two, catching the explosive fireball on its broad side. The blast knocks the demon several more feet back, and then everything is dust, ash, smoke, grit, and embers. Makoto uses the make-shift smokescreen to land, coughing and clearing dirt from streaming eyes as he reassesses the situation. The other teenager had entered the storehouse and now stands a short distance away from him, opposing Estinien — the staccato sound of footsteps draws his attention in the other direction, where Eustace is sweeping Kaeya’s tattered body into his arms to carry away from further violence. Makoto’s jaw sets; it’s not exactly conforming to his order of priorities, but he feels he’s in no position to demand otherwise.

“We need to get that shard back from him or this rescue will be for nothing.” He glances sidelong to Gen, experiencing for the second time in a week the truly bizarre (and decidedly uncomfortable) feeling that he would have to once again rely on the other young man to at the very least pursue the same goal and to put aside all personal contrivances until it was over with.

“Can you create an opening?”

His usefulness is limited now — he has little options at range that don’t involve throwing a very limited number of blades he has on his person, and though he could teleport in for another close-range attack, it not only exhausted him to do repeatedly but also put him in lethal range of any number of natural weapons the dragoon had at his disposal. The pain radiating from the wound across his shoulder is beginning to feed strength into his limbs, but not enough to do anything dramatic; the best he can think to do now is be evasive and wait for the ideal moment.

[coerthantorment]

His fireball goes askew, and it takes a moment to figure out exactly why. In the end, though, it should be predictable - the other Kenoma have arrived, just as he was expecting. What he wasn't necessarily expecting was who in particular it would be.

It's a full house, he processes dimly, attention becoming razor focused on the action and the way the sight of their faces sends his gut turning. All of them, all of the bastards that had been there when he was destroyed, each face revolting to them in their own ways. Makoto, Gen... they are at the forefront in his mind, as if their very presence is mocking him.

He won't allow them. He won't allow them their plans and he won't allow them to take back what he's stolen. Kaeya's shard remains firmly in his grip even as he bolts into combat.

He has two options here, as he sees it - savage Makoto while he's weak and remove him from the situation entirely, or take Gen down a notch before his conjury can cause him more trouble. With a hint of regret, he decides on Gen. Moving with the intent of interjecting before Gen can even consider what he's about to do, he bounds into the air and directly down onto Gen, aiming to dig in with his clawed feet and haul him into the air with a sharp beat of his wings. His tail lashes, attempting to entangle his target futher as he does.

[epiprocta]

Yeah, he definitely should have left.

And it's not even the the throat-clogging swirl of dust in the air, the persistent crackling of falling embers or the faint stench of blood that has him making that assessment. It's when Makoto dares to give him an order (or so he perceives it) that Gen fervently wishes he could turn back time to wash his hands of this whole affair. Eustace is one thing, but M? And it's all in service of saving that asshole? There's disdain clear in the narrowing of Gen's eyes and the wrinkle of his nose as he throws Makoto a sideways glance, a pale sliver of teeth visible with the way his lip curls in distaste. But for better or for worse, whatever shitty retort he might have considered giving never leaves his lips.

It's a blur of movement at the periphery of his vision that has him looking back to Estinien, his stance automatically lowering to something more defensive as he snatches his mace up from its slot at his belt. And that split-second where his body had reacted more quickly than his mind ends up being the only thing that spares him a punctured lung.

Estinien divebombs him almost faster than he can comprehend, and the impact alone sends him skidding back with the grit of dirt beneath his boots. But worse is the feel of those talons digging into his flesh, sliding through skin to into his body like meathooks through a carcass. The arm he'd reflexively braced in a defensive position ultimately hampers the vice-grip of those claws, preventing them from hooking past his ribcage into the soft of his organs, but it's a temporary measure at best -- those talons steadily press deeper into the musculature of his arm, heedless of the way Gen buckles down to try and better endure the damage. Each little movement makes his nerves bristle with terrible heat, sweat already beading at his brow, and Gen fights back a hoarse bark of pain; he sounds just a little more his age in that moment before he finds the breath to snarl,

"-- this enough of an opening for you?!"

As always, it's anger that drives him. Anger that he'd ended up abiding by Makoto's demand. Anger at being stuck in this whole stupid situation, taking this damage for a pair of people who could drop dead for all he cares. And anger at having to be involved in this war in the first place. He'd never asked for any of this. The ground beneath him responds accordingly to that swell of rage -- this time not by bursting outward, but by swallowing up Gen's feet, providing some resistance in the face of Estinien's upward tug.

It won't be enough though, will it? He's never practiced using his magic like that, and it's hard focusing when it feels like there's a knife slowly angling its way up into his body. So it's supplemented by a furious hiss as Gen gives a wide swing of the mace in the moments before that tail comes around to tie him up further -- the heavy, jagged, metal head of the weapon aimed right at the more delicate inside of Estinien's knee.

[affal]

The grounds of this world and any other that might still exist are littered with reasons Makoto might argue and snap and gripe at Minegishi Gen. One could scarcely walk three steps without tripping over one. But as he turns to look at him, in the midst of clear and mortal danger both to themselves and to others, with such a look of disdain, a thrill of indignant anger spurs up from the pit of Makoto’s stomach and for a remarkably different reason than normal. It doesn’t stem from a place of wounded ego or perceived sleights but instead furious disbelief. Really? You really see fit to act like that now of all times? As far as Makoto is concerned, he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place: he’s not going to allow Gen’s foolishness to further endanger him, but he also can’t go inert where he could very well act because he wouldn’t want his conviction called into question.

Everyone assembled is spared the further shattering of the wreckage that was the two teenagers’ “teamwork” as Estinien launches into the air like a barbed missile, wings folding and clawed feet spreading with the predatory intent of a diving falcon. He targets Gen, and for a fleeting moment Makoto feels the remembered malignant fury of when the dragoon had left him behind to die on the stone floor of the Sovereign Shrine. He responds without thinking and in much the same way that he had back then, though this time he has the strength to similarly hurl himself into the air and at the back of his opponent, blade once more flashing in his hands. This time he uses the dirk like it’s intended to be used, attempting to drive its piercing point in-between the bands of protective scaling sweeping away from the man’s ridged spine. This time the blade pierces, but only a fraction as far as his knife had back then, stymied once more by the thick scales.

And once more, Makoto curses under his breath.

It’s not all he has at his disposal, though. Gen does what he can to hold back the clawed foot from sinking into his chest, but he couldn’t possibly hold it for long, and the dragoon’s wings beat to pull all of them into the air. So Makoto’s curl inward to grapple onto them, the talons hooking cruelly into whatever they can and as deep as they can, seeking to restrain, wound, and exacerbate whatever injuries might already exist, all roughly around the same time Gen swings his mace.

[coerthantorment]

Estinien had hoped to make this action quicker. When diving upon Gen this way, the intent had been to lift him only as high as necessary to hurl him down to earth again. There is nothing to be gained from staying still for too long when he is outnumbered, but Gen's grasp of the earth's aether successfully stalls his efforts. Long enough that this whole situation can happen.

It's not that he didn't guess Makoto would be coming - by now, if anything, he sees Makoto as a prolific backstabber - but that entangling himself too closely with Gen really did turn out to be a mistake. He twists enough to cast one furious red eye in Makoto's direction as he approaches, but not enough to keep him from trying to dig his dirk into his scales. It stings, and is annoyingly reminiscent of their previous encounter, but what really threatens him is the attack on his wings.

His wings have been a popular target for Estinien's nine-day battle in Venera, and the thick leather forming them is still marred by the abuse. Patches of dead scales and flesh where necrotic poison has hit, the biting chill of Kaeya's piercing bolts still defrosting. Nidhogg's wings are not fragile things, each segment strong enough to hold on its own, but he'd not prepared to risk it. Especially when Makoto's grasping wings seem much harder to dislodge than the rest of him would be.

Makoto's grapple and Gen's swinging mace mean that he has to change course. The mace blow knocks his knee forward, forcing his bottom claw to relinquish its hold, and as the spikes dig into his scales he decides to embrace it. Fine. If Makoto wants to tag in, he can tag in.

Estinien uses his remaining grip on Gen as a stepping stool with which to launch himself into air, taking Makoto with him, pulling his claws free but only while trying to take as much flesh as he can with him. In the meantime, if Makoto intends to grapple, Estinien will return the favour. His tail makes a move to coil around the demon, with the intent of holding him in place...

...all so that his leap into the sky can be punctuated by flipping into another Dragonfire Dive, straight back onto Gen and the ground he's sewn himself into. That Estinien is about to explode into flame may seem apparent. Whether or not Makoto is actually forced to come along for the ride, or whether he squirms away midair, it's fortunate that a dragoon does not necessarily need wings to fly.

[epiprocta]

Whatever crumb of relief or victory he feels from the mace making impact with its target is almost immediately squelched when that claw unhooks from his flesh. Gen grits his teeth hard as he fights back his voice, ignoring the vicious pain that rips through torn flesh when he reels his arm back for another swing of the weapon --

only to get the air knocked out of him as Estinien kicks off him, those talons digging deeper into his torso for a moment before tearing out with the bright flourish of blood. It hurts enough to make his vision go blank for a second, further shaving down the precious little time he has to react to Estinien's incoming dive, and it's only the hard pulse of adrenaline through his veins that lets him react at all. It's just too bad his options are few in the first place, and the only one he can see working still isn't great.

God, this is going to suck.

Gen seems to be frozen in place at first save a squaring of the shoulders. But Estinien launches himself into that dive, and in the split second before those talons can make impact -- Gen abruptly drops low. It's not just that he falls into a crouch, but that the ground beneath him is suddenly gouged out, like an enormous hand's carved a trench below his feet. Or rather, a grave just big enough for two. And with the sudden change of setting, and Makoto hampering the movement of Estinien's wings, it's dubious he'd be able to change his momentum or trajectory in mid-air on quick enough notice. That dive should instead send him crashing into the side of the makeshift pit that Gen's dropped himself into, once more clouding the air with dust and dirt and smoke.

Did Makoto manage to untangle himself before that impact? Or was the coil of Estinien's tail too vicious for that? Regardless, that trench makes for a terribly claustrophobic space, and one where Estinien's stature is bound to work against him; how well can he maneuver his wings or tail when he's blocked on all sides by walls of dirt?

Granted, that change of terrain's come at significant cost -- moving the earth that dramatically is something Gen has yet to grow acclimated to, and the drain of magic's already left him a little light-headed and queasy. Not the best condition to be in when he's essentially trapped himself in a pit with someone like Estinien. But the situation is what it is, and like hell he's going to give up without a fight. Even as he feels his clothes start to stick to his skin with blood, he tries to lunge back in before Estinien's had a chance to react. The mace's heavy head whistles through the air as he directs as heavy a swing as he can manage right towards Estinien's chest.

[affal]

Fighting the dragoon is more like fighting a hydra: attempt to lock down or sever one head, and two more appear. Even with his limited options of attack, his primary motivation had been to at the very least attempt to limit whatever Estinien was about to inflict on Gen, and interfering with his attempts to get into the air had been the clearest option to him at the time. But even with the wings’s ability to move hampered and the mace connecting with a brutal crunch into the man’s knee, he merely abandons former avenues of attack and chooses yet another still open to him. He pushes off of the ground (and, by association, Gen — Makoto might not be able to see him from his position, but the gruesome sound of tearing flesh and spilt blood paints a vivid enough picture), taking both himself and his hanger-on into the air with a powerful jump. By the time the dragoon has reached the pinnacle of that leap and flips to prepare to dive, the serpentine coil a draconic tail has encircled Makoto’s torso to hold him in place, its crushing pressure enough to cause the barrier of his ribs to loudly protest. It was an additive measure that was scarcely necessary; the one draw-back to hooking his wings into the dragoon’s is that it’s far more challenging to release than it is to grasp. Even if he could disentangle them, there’s no way he’d have enough time (or strength) to free himself from the hold of his tail — and all of this is what Makoto mentally works through as they are mid-dive, plunging towards Gen, the crackling of heat in the air beginning to singe his lungs.

He wishes there was more he could do. Truly, it seems like every time he develops one ability that might give him some new advantage, he comes to realize at least three or four new shortcomings and weaknesses. For this one assault, Gen will have to be on his own, or at least until he can figure out what to do next.

Makoto attempts to wrench the dagger free and casts his gaze up, drawing a Doorway with his other hand. His weight disappears instantaneously, both the tail and wings suddenly freed up, and he reappears a split second later roughly where they had been at the apex of the jump, arms crossed in front of his face against the sudden heat and light of the Dragonfire Dive. Teleporting again so soon takes its toll, as does the activated Curse that manifests as a phantom double-image of angelic wings beating as his draconic ones do, slowly sapping his strength and transferring it to… really, whoever is closest. Those beats are far more labored now, struggling to keep him aloft; he does what he can to draw strength from pain and refocuses his attention below to where Gen has gouged out a pit within the earth, ready to dive at a moment’s notice.

[locumstudentesquire]

Ryunosuke had been in the middle of trying to think of what to say to poor Thoma, because it occurs to him... He and Kaeya had a common acquaintance in Lumine, didn't they? It would follow then, that they might be familiar with one another as well. What a horrible thing to witness...

Before he could follow that train of thought any further, all hell had broken loose.

Unlike Estinien, Ryunosuke doesn't have the benefit of years of dragoon training to tip him off. A pointed ear swiveled absentmindedly in the direction of Makoto's approach, but he doesn't think much of it until M is suddenly there and Ryunosuke is suddenly flung backwards, shoved out of the way by Estinien while his attention is fixed on the new arrival...

Things start escalating fast from there. Ryunosuke casts a bubble around himself to soften the fall, and then hastily scrambles back over to Thoma to try and shield him while Estinien and M scuffle, because Thoma's still tied up and can't defend himself if any crossfire happens to come their way, and now it sounds like more Kenoma are showing up--

Ryunosuke is panicking. The last time he saw M and Estinien in the same place, it hadn't exactly ended well?? There's no telling what could happen this time. He tries to untie Thoma first, because that seems the most practical, but the knots are complicated and he doesn't have the power to tear through bonds as effortlessly as Estinien had done with his, and he keeps glancing wildly between the ropes and the fight--

Estinien slamming down into that hole is kind of the last straw. Maybe Estinien could handle both Kenoma on his own... But Ryunosuke doesn't want to take any chances.

"I'm sorry, j-just hold on a moment, I'll be back for you!" he stammers at Thoma, before getting up and sprinting into the fray. It looks like M is about to try and divebomb into the pit, and Ryu does the first thing he can think of to try and keep things from getting worse.

A shimmering gold sphere of energy forms around the flying Kenoma, sealing him inside. As it turns out, this magic that was originally intended to protect, can also work quite well to contain.

[coerthantorment]

As the flames disperse, Estinien would usually be prepared to leap away as quickly as he arrived. Dragoons were agile fighters, and mobility was key, which means that no matter how much armor he might have, he knows the benefits of staying on the move. This means when his landing is disrupted by the ground seemingly falling out beneath him, he is caught off guard by the sudden need to reorientate. It doesn't help that Makoto has seemingly just disappeared, the weight on his back gone as his aching wings are left to unfurl in a space far too small for them.

He doesn't know what Gen's aim is. Is this a trap? Above him, he catches a flicker of Makoto in his peripheral, now glowing with a light that is painfully familiar. Wings?

His own wings are struggling, colliding with the walls of the hole, his tail lashing and kicking up debris. He doesn't know what his opponent's endgame is, but he does know they are now in very close quarters. Wherever this was going, he can only foresee it being looked back upon as a mistake.

Without leaving Gen with more time to think, Estinien goes all in. His taloned feet, a clawed hand, his tail, his wings, even the horns on his head - he uses the closed space to corner Gen with them, lashing out with every sharp edge at his disposal. The only advantage that remains unused is the fist that clenches Kaeya's shard, nearly forgotten about in the struggle.

He punctuates it all with a belch of flame, heat coursing through the scales of his neck and erupting past his snarling fangs.

[epiprocta]

The flash of light from overhead has Gen giving a startled jolt, his gaze immediately drawn upwards past the lip of the trench he's trapped himself and Estinien in, where he can just barely make out a sphere of shimmering light. And within that sphere, M, trapped like a rat. What the hell even is that? -- it doesn't matter. Maybe M will be able to break his way out of that thing, maybe not. Either way, Gen doesn't get much of a chance to consider the potential outcomes. Because he gets all of half of a second to take a halting breath, then Estinien's on him.

How does the saying go? Out of the frying pan, into the fire? Because yeah, this sucks about as much as he'd expected.

Claws tears, that tailtip rips into his side, a wing smacks him hard across the head. Though Gen reflexively raises his arms to try and protect his face, he's still almost blinded when the slash of talons slices through his forearm, spraying blood into his face. He immediately knows that staying here is basically a death sentence, and that grim thought helps him regroup out of sheer fury, if nothing else.

The next lash of claws is deflected with a hard swing of the mace, the sound of steel clashing off talons almost muffling his enraged snarl; Gen glares at Estinien for a split second before giving a hard swipe of his other arm, hand empty but fingers tensed like claws. And in response, the grave that he's dug for them promptly begins to collapse around Estinien from either side and behind him, dirt and rocks surging forth to bury him.

Surely even someone like Estinien isn't immune to the crush of earth. But how long will obstacle hamper him for? He's not sure. Gen's completely given up on formulating plans or thinking in the long term. All that matters is moment-to-moment survival, and as soon as he's collapsed the pit around Estinien, he commands the earth to form footholds so he can haul himself out of the hole. His pulse is pounding in his ear, his skin hot and sticky with lacerations and blood, and he almost stumbles when he whirls around to try and keep track of Estinien's movements once more.

What next?

[zauneyete]

Invisibility is such a... unique power. It allows one to watch, in relative safety. Silco had intended to just creep by the fight, on his way to yet another target as laid out by the Regent. That's what he was best at, after all. Sneaking up, making someone disappear, that's simply Undercity tactics.

So he'd been meaning to sneak by the fight, let Kaeya fight the dragon...man... thing. Really, he looked like something Singed would have made -- but things took a turn, and he'd stuck around. Watched. Watched his shard get plucked from his eye, with a visceral tug, and Silco's stomach lurched -- a phantom pain in his own too-wide eye, knowing what pain like that felt like.

He still didn't move, of course. What could he do? Nothing, but he considered going after Estinien the Dragon-man-thing with a knife, but no, that was useless. Foolish. He'd never been one for foolish acts.

Young men, though, were. A fight brewed, first Gen, and then... Makoto, he supposed. Silco watched with one unblinking eye, his feet creeping ever-slowly toward the battle. His eyes took stock of the balance, how many of those shimmering lights, some as equally bright as his dark, and he inhaled, feeling that fury, and his eyes kept drawing back to Kaeya's shard in his hand. Eustace, thankfully, took the body, but the shard... he felt revulsion of the thought of anyone touching his shard. He felt that sick feeling, and he inhaled slowly, before he crept a little closer, and closer.

Makoto was bubbled, and Gen... looked in trouble. He breathed in, and crept up beside him. There was only one thing that would probably turn the tide, and Silco had no interest in losing Kaeya to the Pleroma, or giving them the advantage of a kill like that.

Besides, Gen had asked about the shimmer, hadn't he? His fingers slid close, and he reached out to touch his back, index finger touched the back of his neck -- skin to skin -- in what could have been called a fatherly pat, if only it weren't for the dose of Shimmer that he released.

He could feel his invisibility drop, and he smiled up at Estinien, and took a few steps back, to let the Shimmer overtake Gen, before he could get swiped himself. "Hello there," he greeted, a sharp grin. "Don't mind me, just..." hands spread, in an almost casual, magnanimous gesture. "Passing through."

[coerthantorment]

It's when the earth around them collapses that Estinien realizes his desperate desire to put Gen down has played against his better judgment. If he had focused all his attention on escaping the pit, he could have easily avoided this outcome - but instead his attention had been drawn to that miserable little bastard and how much he wanted to tear him limb from limb, to make him feel the helpless despair Estinien had in their last encounter.

It was a mistake, surely, to let Estinien get so close. Yet, the greater mistake was Estinien allowing himself the indulgence.

He leaps at the precise moment he realizes what is happening, but the earth falls quickly enough that his lower extremities don't make it clear in time. His tail and wings, so constricted by the tight space, are buried along with his lower half. He is strong, especially transformed as he is, but the earth is heavy - it's only when he's straining against it that the impacts Gen made against his chest and leg really start to process.

In the meantime, Silco is free to make his appearance... and Estinien realizes fully that things are about to take a turn for the worst.

[lockedon]

The push-pull of his conflicting wants ends up with Eustace going only a few dozen feet away from the storehouse. Just a far enough distance that he and Kaeya are no longer coated with earthen debris each time he looks up, but close enough that he can still hear the clash of mace against claw and feel the slight quiver of the ground as Gen fights.

Much as he doesn't relish the thought of abandoning Kaeya while he's on the brink of death, better to risk a single dissipation rather than multiple. And there's something distinctly unpleasant about the thought of a teacher abandoning his students when they might benefit from help the most. So down Kaeya goes, laid out as gently as Eustace can manage before he's turning on his heel and sprinting back towards the storehouse.

What he sees as soon as he runs back is—worse. Makoto trapped in some sort of....bubble? enclosure? shield? Gen on the ground, body streaked with blood and dirt. The no-longer-prisoner Ryunosuke some feet away, staring at Makoto. The only thing that sparks the smallest flicker of grim satisfaction is Estinien half-buried in the ground, momentarily trapped despite how much he struggles and strains. (Somewhere in there, Silco's shadowy appearance makes an impression, but as little more than an afterthought.)

Hard to know exactly the cause of whatever's trapping Makoto, but if he had to take a guess it's most likely coming from the shortstack some feet away. First things first, then. Get rid of any interference before refocusing on the main event.

He pulls out his gun and fires a shot at Ryunosuke. Not a bullet but a bolt of lightning, intended to disable rather than destroy.

[locumstudentesquire]

It's nice that Eustace isn't shooting to kill at least, but that's a distinction that Ryunosuke can hardly appreciate in the heat of the moment. He's not even sure what to do with Makoto once he traps him, which is part of why he leaves himself wide open to attack like that, aside from his general inexperience with these things; he's just kind of standing there, alarmed that it actually worked, his panicked brain stalling out.

And just like that, before he can even reach a decision, his concentration is shattered. The bubble shimmers and fades away uselessly as Eustace's bolt sends a jolt of pain through Ryunosuke's entire body; he yowls, maybe even more out of surprise than pain, because he honestly has no idea what what the heck even hit him; the shock knocks him away about a foot or two, where he lands unsteadily on his feet, looking frantically all around in wild-eyed confusion, tail lashing about.

Looking in the direction the hit came from, he spots Eustace with his gun, which explains things, he supposes. No clue what kind of gun shoots LIGHTNING instead of bullets, but whatever, that's honestly kind of a relief in some ways....

He's trying to reorient himself, counting the Kenoma present-- Gen, M, Eustace-- His eyes land on Silco briefly. Who the HECK is that guy and when did he get here!?!

That makes four of them, at least three of whom are now converging on Estinien, who's stuck half-buried in the ground. Ryunosuke has no idea what the old guy just did to Gen but he's not about to wait around and find out. Sometimes, he just has to let his stupid impulses carry him forward, and deal with the consequences later.

He springs forward and tries to put himself between Estinien and the two Kenoma (Gen and Silco), casting another one of those shimmering gold bubbles around himself this time.

[epiprocta]

Silco's lucky Gen doesn't reflexively clock him the moment he feels that touch at the back of his neck. He does come close, whirling around with mace raised and catching himself at the last second, staring at Silco with wide eyes and expression warped with confusion, about to ask why the hell he's here. But before he can spit out so much as a single abrasive word, his breath catches in his throat, his pulse escalating to a heady thrum.

And the Shimmer burns through his body like a wildfire.

Both the crackle of lighting from Eustace's gun and the shimmer of Ryunosuke's protective bubble dissipating go entirely unnoticed. For a moment all Gen can think about is the sensation of something acrid surging through his veins, leaving an unbearable heat simmering in its wake; his voice escapes his throat in a guttural snarl as he doubles over, hand clawing at his chest heedless of the way he exacerbates his injuries in a hapless attempt to quell the strange pressure building in his lungs. His heart feels like it's hammering against his ribcage hard enough to explode. It hurts, he can taste the iron tang of blood and the sour rise of bile at the back of his throat, and his field of vision is clouding an electric hue at the edges. But -- ...

It can't take Ryunosuke more than a few scant moments to locate himself between Estinien and Gen. But just that amount of time is enough. That shimmering bubble forms itself around him again, and Gen promptly raises his head to glare at him -- the dark of his pupils replaced by an inhuman glow, lines of incandescent purple etched across his temple -- then, without hesitation, aims a two-handed swing of the mace straight at Ryunosuke. The heavy metal head smashes against that barrier with a force that humans shouldn't naturally be capable of, more than hard enough to send the entire thing careening off to the side, Ryunosuke and all.

But Gen barely pays it any mind. Ryunosuke was simply an obstacle on the way to his goal, which he stares at with a vicious laser focus: Estinien. This person, an enemy, who hurt him, who deserves to be hurt back as much as possible.

And it's truly unfortunate for Estinien that with Gen's focus sharpened to a razor's edge, an ability granted to him which had been lying dormant thus far finally stirs awake. Not to grant Gen any further strength but to simply cause Estinien as much suffering as possible -- a reflex born of pure spite, hell-bent on forcing Estinien to endure the same pain he does. There's no warning, no visual indication of what's going on. Estinien will only have the chance to look up and see Gen lunging his way with renewed speed and ferocity -- then an explosion of pain slams into him like a cannonball.

Most of it is persistent and caustic, like a heated blade searing through nerves. Gen might be able to temporarily ignore the sensation of his myriad injuries thanks to the Shimmer's effects, but Estinien gets no such reprieve. On top of that, more pain -- a tightness around the lungs, like fingers clasped around the lungs. A sick feeling boiling in the pit of the stomach, pulse beating at a deafening roar, the burn of the Shimmer driving muscles and organs to their limits. A sickening cocktail of sensation thrust upon Estinien at the same moment that Gen snarls, aiming a vicious swing of his mace aimed right at Estinien's skull.

[coerthantorment]

Somehow, it's happening again.

He's stuck. He can't shift his body, his lower limbs and wings pinned down, pressed down by the weight of the earth. Ahead of him, his enemy, bearing down on him, raising his weapon to bludgeon, to kill. The scenes blend together - in one instant, Gen is on top of him, a petrified arm raised above his head, swinging it down as Estinien is powerless to stop him. In the next, Gen approaches, veins and muscles bulging, mace swinging to crush his skull in perfect synchronicity.

He's hurting now, and he doesn't know why. His body aches, as if threatening to fall apart, eroded by forces he doesn't understand. He's dying, he thinks.

As he had before, he tries to shift his head to the side. The mace clangs across the horns that protect the side of Estinien's head, chipping off bits of keratin as it does. His neck is jarred, protected from having his skull cracked but not the force of the vibrations it sends through him, confusing his thoughts further. He feels like he's slipping all over again, off that blinding white precipice, losing control of his body and mind as panic and agony consumes him.

Unnoticed, Kaeya's shard drops from his hand.

No.

Despite the fear, the sickness, the way his mind threatens to spiral beyond return: he grasps for the mace that has struck him, wrapping his claws around its shaft and pulling with all his strength. No. No more. The increasingly turbulent emotions within him rise, tearing through his throat and out his mouth, another draconic scream of anguish and hatred ripping through everyone who stand near. As if those psychic wounds have been made manifest, it radiates outward in a storm of etheric and sonic power, striking at bodies and minds alike.

[affal]

All at once, the sounds of conflict cut off all around him, and his surroundings are painted in semi-translucent gold. All Makoto can hear is the sound of his own ragged breathing, of the slow beat of his wings, of the soft plinking sound where its talons made contact with the barrier that had suddenly encompassed him. His pale eyes furiously scour the room before settling upon Ryu, setting him in a deeply baleful gaze. Given that Estinien and Gen are still locked in combat in a double-wide grave and the other prisoner is still bound, process of elimination tells him that this ignoble state of encapsulation he’s suddenly in is his doing.

Ire boils up in his stomach, burning like bile in his throat. From the outside, those soft clinking sounds resume with renewed ferocity as the demon starts to desperately break free of his prison, slashing at its resolute golden surface with the talons of his wings, his blade, his hands, anything he can manage.

Really, with his fury centered squarely on Ryu, he doesn’t pay attention to the play-by-play of what happens next until there’s a startling flash of light that lances from one end of the storehouse to the other directly beneath him, and then the barrier disappears. Makoto has it in his head for a split-second to divebomb Ryu instead and let him know exactly what he had thought about that whole thing, but his better judgment grapples his petty vindictiveness into submission. His eyes scan the scene below him. He had seemingly been freed by Eustace’s return; the erune had shot his weapon at Ryu, who had taken a moment to recover from its blast before interjecting himself between Gen, who had gotten out of the hole in the ground before half-collapsing it around Estinien, and who was now joined by… Silco, Makoto believes he remembers his name to be.

Things have gotten much more complicated, but he can’t say he’s grudging of additional help.

His attention is drawn with morbid fascination at sudden movement from Gen — he had missed the exact moment that Silco had touched him with Shimmer, but now he pays witness to its shocking effects. The other young man smacks Ryu’s bubble aside with his club like a golf ball, bearing down on Estinien with murderous intent. After the sickening crunch of steel slamming into the crest of horns adorning the dragoon’s head, the moment that Makoto’s been waiting for all this time finally comes: there’s a flicker of movement of the aura encircling Kaeya’s shard, and it’s dropped to the ground, loosed from the man’s resilient claws.

The demon doesn’t think. He folds in his wings, and he dives.

He’s actually… never done a maneuver like this before. He realizes this when he’s less than a few feet from the ground, ticking up closer to terminal velocity and suddenly unsure of how to stop from dashing himself across the ground. His wings flare out somewhat (either by instinct or luck, who’s to say), catching enough of a billow of air to keep him from doing just that. He does hit the ground rather hard, but not before he scoops up the shard in both hands, momentum causing him to tumble a few feet away with it cradled to his chest.

He doesn’t have any time to feel victory or relief. Estinien roars again, and for the first time, Makoto is right next to it to suffer the brunt of its effects. He cries out in pain as the sound presses in on both sides of his head, a mental assault like a vice closing in on either temple. At the same time he faces the overwhelming mental pressure from the roar, he becomes painfully aware of his physical exhaustion and the lacerations that encircle his body like an embrace. In the moment, it’s almost too much — but at least he has the impulse to curl in his arms towards his chest, wrapping his wings around himself to attempt to shield from the invisible attack.

Desperation to get away drives him to move next, even doing so through the lingering shock and pain. His wings part to give him vision, and one of the first things he sees between them is Silco, standing a distance away. He draws one last Doorway and teleports to his side, gasping aloud as he reappears on the ground next to him a half-second later. Enervation seeps bone-deep into his limbs, his wings feeling as heavy as lead — the angelic after-image they cast from the Innocent’s curse seeming to glow brighter, to grow more defined, as if reveling in the opportunity to scour from him what little energy he has left and give it away to those closest to him.

It’s all he can do to pull himself up to one knee, reaching a shaking hand out to Silco. He will drop Kaeya’s shard into his, if he allows himself to.

“Get him — out of here.”

His voice is a half-gasp, half-growl. His goodwill is all but expired at this point; as far as he’s concerned, he no longer owes Kaeya a debt of gratitude, having more than paid it back in pain and blood.