middaeg | (semi-closed)

[ and here's viren - perhaps overprepared. he'd pored through as many texts as time permitted these last few days, absorbing as much as knowledge as he could; this left him with ideas and possibilities and what-ifs, most of which would go unused. it'd been something of a challenge, balancing the necessities with the "could be" necessities. ]

[ because although his demeanor wouldn't betray it, he's excited. ]

[ ... and cold. he'd thought some stylish black coat would do the trick; he didn't foresee having to layer everything to his socks. when the fuck did it become so cold. he can't tell if the clothing quality here is just awful or the weather is just awful. or it's both. ]

[ regardless, after a curt nod of acknowledge as to four's presence - ]

I can hold my own, yes.

[ to emphasize this, he gives a showy twirl of his mage's staff, then to set its tip neatly into the dirt. and really, after a look over at four and that atypical gauntlet, he feels the question answered on her behalf. with an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow, ]

That looks... messy.

[ not necessarily a bad thing; how far the blood splatters depends on how hard she hits, obviously. ]

[ it’s always better to be prepared than not. four has taken the time to ready, study the arts. most enchantments she may not actually be able to use (not that people know that). she’ll keep trying as much as she was capable, which was vast— many monsters can learn certain ins and outs of the world and one’s abilities.

(she’s read, as well: harpies carry a power of song as well. so, so insignificant compared to what she’s used to, though. ugh.) ]

It was the weapon and skill I was gifted with. [ though, she understands what he means, and dips her head as she walks. the gauntlet’s claws were messy indeed, if they were to dig somewhere. ] I take no pleasure in how it must be used, though.

[ pleasure, no, but she certainly vents all her frustrations in a punch that could snap a man sideways. there’s no remorse, only excuses. ]

—Has magic found you, as well?

[ a mage’s staff could only be so useful without magic. ]

... So long as it gets the job done, hm?

[ tone somewhat lightened; more blood did mean it's met its purpose, he guesses; it would be interesting to see it in action, if things came to that. ]

[ prompted, he casts a glance down to the staff, which rhythmically taps against the ground as he walks with it by his side. it's of a solid metal, constructed with a convenient grip, its tip pointed and sharp. ... his look was of the the lingering sort, not one without a touch of pensiveness. ]

It has not, no. [ a sigh and a shake of his head, his gaze lifting back to four. ] Whatever magical ties I have seem to have been... severed.

[ ah, said at the lightened remark. she doesn’t look happy (the keyword is look of course), before she nods and contents herself with it. if she were gifted in anything else, should use it surely—

but she did enjoy the cracks. it gets the job done swiftly. four seems more worried about the lack of magic on him. ]

I . . . I have only found my magic laced to one spell alone— two, at most. [ she fools herself into believing it’s still her magic, at least. it just doesn’t have the same weight anymore, or the same variety. ] Perhaps you have yet to find yours?

I've been tested at the Coven - my results weren't promising, but given the nature of magic... [ it's a dreadfully slight hope, he knows, delusional at this point. but still, he's loathe to foreclose the possibility completely: ] ... Perhaps it could be so.

[ yet, every day that passes has the possibility growing dimmer. ]

[ unless she refers to the magical aptitude some monsters hold - won't that be a day. ]

[ but her remark as to her magic certainly had viren's eyebrows raising; there's yet anything immediately skeptical to the look (as many eager conversations as he'd already had regarding magic, he's too new here, doesn't yet know if four finds herself with certainty to be a monster or witch), just a widening of his eyes. ]

Your own magic? ... What sort of spells?

[ at least his ignorance helps her. denying the coven’s warnings of magic lack has fallen on deaf ears. she would never lack magic. ]

One that entices, [ a lure, a calm before a muddy storm, ] and one that paralyzes.

It is not a change, but a reduction. [ the skitter of leaves from bushes bordering their trail shakes with sound. they should get ready. ] I would offer practice to return yours to minimal standing, but— one may has come to us.

Edited (WHEN YOUR THUMB SLIPS) 2019-08-21 09:54 (UTC)

[ he almost requests right then and there that she demonstrate - even if it may cost them time, perhaps even cost viren something. but like four's indicated, they may be in for a show of skills anyway. with a jerk of his arm, the staff unfolds with a snap of metal to double in length, its end becoming sharp, twin prongs. he quickly, mentally runs over the variety of supplies they have to fight. ]

Well, then.

[ he feels his pulse quicken with anticipation already, having turned toward the source of noise - undoubtedly serious as the situation is, discovery also awaits. ]

It seems as if we'll see how fearsome these beasts truly are.

[ ~~please don't let it be a squirrel.~~ ]

[ now i really want to see it be a squirrel. today though, it is not. the first thing to poke into view are long ears, like those of a hare (although far too large to be a hare). snarls and chokes make themselves known, and nearly instantly, four knows what it is. ]

There's never less than one of these beasts.

[ a wolf. wolves, in fact, once they take a look around and see that they're being preyed upon. large ears point up like rods, tar oozes from its mouth, and its hackles are brittle and sickly, white eyes void of pupils. ]

Cotton, for your ears. [ he may not need to ask for a demonstration. ] I've been told that it's wise not to let the ill snap at you. Disgusting—

Edited 2019-08-23 17:59 (UTC)

[ what a twist of fate, he thinks, that he should be the one to rely on physical prowess, the token of power—magic—in another's hands. ]

At this point, we'd be doing them a service -

[ viren takes to her suggestion; he reaches to a pouch which contains some medical supplies, hurriedly grabbing for the cotton to block his ears. he must rely on sight, now; potentially dangerous as to these creatures' numbers, but a necessary risk. and so, ]

At the ready, Lady Four.

[ with the appearance of the wolves' corruption, he's decided: if this is infection of the land is anything, it's a waste. one of the rabbit-eared wolves, braver, continues to snarl, prowls forward. viren brandishes his weapon, readies himself to strike through flesh. ]

[ four is more than happy with a supporting idea. put them down, that’s absolutely right. ]

Let us make it quick, then, and may the blight be gone with them.

[ and so, she breathes in deep, something still oh so very natural to her— four pours intent into the voice that follows, a splitting scream that distorts in an ugly way the longer she holds a note. it may not be able to summon armaros, or zophiel, or even the magic that she had made herself known for. but it would do, to get the wolves either darting back from where they came, or stunning them in their tracks.

they’re sitting ducks. or, writhing fiends. it’s why four doesn’t stop so long as viren is well and moving. ]

[ for an old dude, viren's fairly quick on his feet. he wouldn't have volunteered to come if he didn't think he had something to offer. but when four begins with her first note (rather, as a scream - he would note it as ugly, if he could fully hear), he's met with more resistance than he'd like - his hurried cotton fix came with the price: that of stuttering movements, the occasional strike duller than he'd anticipate. ]

[ but no matter - the staff's pointy end makes good work. slashes through diseased flesh are greeted with unheard cries from the beasts, and the twin prongs pierce into necks, with all the proper, aggressive forcefulness of putting something dangerous out of its misery. and when it doesn't suit him, he uses it like a club - there's the inaudible breaking of ribs, the crack of skulls. their shadowy remains are picked up by the wind, exposing their truer, decayed forms. ]

[ honestly, with their vulnerability to four's magic, they hadn't a chance in hell. ]

[ viren slows, his gaze raking over the foliage to spy any remaining shades lurking about. the staff stills; he takes a moment to catch his breath, gaze turned towards her. if she can hear, or if she can make out how his mouth moves: lady four. ]

[ four has always been skilled in maintaining notes as she fought. for the first few moments, she doesn’t need to lift a finger; the wolves are either staggering straight into viren’s staff or attempting to snap at it, at them. the sound of bones fracturing into the decaying bodies are drowned, and even when four does decide to swing her gauntlet into the gut of a writhing beast (it’s split in halves, in the dirt, where a mucky blackness splatters with the splinter of rips into something . . . even more deformed than it used to be.

whether she stops because there are no more, or because she sees viren’s lips move is a little uncertain, but nevertheless— it stops. ]

My Lord? [ all is well? asks her tone. ]

[ that was quite the hit. despite himself, the corners of viren's mouth turn upward in a smile, before the expression to his typical stoicism. he pulls cotton from his ear, briefly; inclining his head, ]

Apologies; I don't mean to interrupt you.

[ and all their good work! he can hear rustling of another shade within thick brush that he hadn't been able to spy. the noise of a clashing of teeth and a deep, rumbling growl greet him; freed from four's ability, it begins to stir back to its proper vivacity. ]

I meant to ask if all had been destroyed, but—

[ alas, that's apparent; there's the beat of paws crackling through the undergrowth. viren lifts his weapon again; he'll take care of the one to his left, he thinks, leaving four to what, if anything, that remains near to her. he gives her a nod, pushing the cotton back into place. if she chooses to sing again - well. that's to her discretion. ]

(semi-closed)

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honestly if that'd been the tag i would've laughed, but also like. fair

mobile tagging, man, i can't even get rid of typos

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