old spirits stir along your steps

the heir of toussaint, the nonbeliever son of hecate, ada alphonse toussaint of new orleans

[ancestralmagic]

[ mike colter, bisexual, cis male & he/him ] — a new age of heroes approaches, among those is ALPHONSE TOUSSAINT, child of HECATE. they have walked this earth for 49 YEARS, living in NEW ORLEANS, as a DISTRICT ATTORNEY, until they came to the isle of olympus 5 months ago. they will carve their name in myth with their DECISIVENESS, INTELLIGENCE, BRAVERY, but the fates know of their SKEPTICISM, PRIDE, INFLEXIBILITY that may immortalize them forever. the battles ahead will shape them into who they are destined to be, but will this cause the age of the gods to fall and the age of monsters to rise? only the fates know the truth and those prophecies have yet been uttered. let their heroism shine against the challenges ahead. godspeed, demigod!

frank sinatra

That old black magic has me in its spell That old black magic that you weave so well Those icy fingers up and down my spine The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine

1

pulling back the curtain on the reckoning / see, i'm still walking at the witching hour

2

undead warlock • bonnie bennet • vincent griffith

3

family secrets, flashes of light, glimpses of spirits, old portraits, whispers in the dark, morning mists, ancient trees, rituals by the bayou, willful ignorance, shadows in the halls, the feeling of being watched, fever dreams, sudden touches, the weight of ancestry, old wisdom, half truths, ignored legacy.

[wizardsofourtime]

"Maybe your bed is just better than my bed. Either think of that?" came Avery's oh so cheeky response to that as he was fully aware that his bed in the cabin was literally rooms away from the older man's and was no doubt exactly the same. Though the older man certainly wasn't wrong, Avery was a messed up cock hungry slut at the best of times, and his list of island conquests was longer than the entirety of War and Peace, but Alphonse was one of the few beds he came crawling back for, again and again, and again. He craved the other's attention and touch, the broad hands against his body, the filthy words the other could fill his mind.

There's a spark of desire as he was all but manhandled up onto the other's waist again. Not even caring about how filthy he must have looked with the older man's come already dripping down his thighs as he felt that big, black cock slide back inside him and gasped loudly, long dark hair falling in front of his face as he tipped his head forward.

"That's not a bad idea actually...hm...milk you dry via magic..."

He was about to say more when that smack to his face connected, and he moaned like a wanton whore. He adored that mix of pain and pleasure during sex, his lips parting to take that thumb between his lips and sucked on it like he was taking another cock between his lips, his eyes blowing with desire in the moments that passed.

It was the filthy words, however, that had the witch boy spreading his legs and that cock as hard as a diamond between his legs in moments. Son. Father. It ignited his daddy issues like a firework and had his fingers pressing into Alphonse chest the moment that deep, hard, thrust of that cock pressed inside him. He wanted to reply but all that escaped his lips was a whimper before he was dragged down into that kiss.

He returned it, hungry and eager. Like he wanted to lose himself in the older man again and again. "Fuck...Dad.." he whined against those lips, his hips rocking back down against the other. "Never enough, not for a fucking second- fuck.." It had taken seconds and the older man had him wrapped around his finger and begging, just like that.

[ancestralmagic]

He rolled his eyes, Avery was... unruly, messy, disobedient. He was soft, and starved for male attention. He walked to him begging for it as soon as they met, naked hunger in his brother's eye.

Alphonse knew why he came back, why he looked for him. It wasn't the bed, it wasn't the sex--at least not just the sex. He needed the firm hand, he needed a father. His father.

It helped that Alphonse fed the little slut his cock whenever he craved it, the haze in his eyes as he sunk back onto it. The hungry way he watched whenever he pulled it out for him or let him take his time slobbering all over it...

He did not fight back the urge to thrust up into him, to sink back into his depths, shaped around him all night long. "No magic." He warned, loud, clear and threatening. The way Avery needed, the way he liked. "Do I need to keep that pretty mouth full so you don't use it?" Another slap, another kiss, hungry and filthy and desperate like his boy was.

"That's it, that's better," He whispered against his lips, watching the way he reacted. The hunger, the deep effect of his words on Avery. Especially when he had his cock balls deep inside that needy hole of his. Felt him clench around him as he rode his cock, milking him yet again, "Say my name again, tell dad who you belong to." He felt his own cock throb inside Avery, felt their muscles move in tandem. Bodies meeting as if fated, as if he'd made him himself.

"You can be good for me, look at you," one hand on his hair, the other on his ass, "a good boy for your father aren't you? Look how bad you crave it." The wet squelching sound of thrusts making cum drip down his cock, balls and thighs slapping against skin. Moans rung loud, voices even louder. His thighs burned with the effort of thrusting into Avery but he would not stop until his boy made a mess of them again.

"Go on, scream it for me. Little brat just needed his dad didn't he?" He spoke between his teeth, sweat dripping down his body as Avery's hands clutched at his chest. Fuck, his boy drove him crazy. "Tell me you're going to be good for me son, do it and I'll let you cum on my cock like you're about to..."

[ancestralmagic]

[illbeyouridle]

Will's eyebrows raise in surprise by the sudden proposition, the surprise making his mouth full of food travel down his gullet rougher than he had anticipated. Drinking from the goblet of ichor laced wine, the son of Hephaestus downs his drink, it was cold against the tight strain of his aching neck. As marvelous as the design of that was the human body, it certainly had its fall backs. Of course, William had hypothesized his body not being exactly human, at least not in the way he originally understood it. Clearing his throat, Will adds, "I... I'm not trying to pick you up..."

Though, now that it was in the son of Hephaestus' attention, William couldn't help finding the innuendo in everything he did. He was only half human after all. At times the carnal need that came from both halves was hard for him to ignore. William sunk himself in his seat, as if caught doing something bad as he continues, "But if you wanted to fuck.. I have no qualms about that, sir."

[ancestralmagic]

He hummed, crossing his arms as he seemed to swallow... strangely. You never knew around here. He didn't say anything though. Watched him sink into himself as if... did every demigod in here need a fucking dad or something?

He sighed. "Go on." He packed up his things, getting up and towering over the smaller demigod with a not too gentle look down at him. "I can see you need it, but you're going to have to tell me exactly what you need while we get to your little shop."

[magicalmisguidings]

"Stop wasting time and effort on saving some troglodyte little monster. We have a mission to complete, nothing else between matters. You can pretend you have all these lofty morals, but in the presence of failure, did anything you did matter?" Peter rolled his eyes, this was why he hated going out with anyone other than his brother's. Emotions clouded solid logic. Wasted effort. Tying off the threads he has been weaving, knotting them so the veil couldn't spready any wider and might help the magic users a bit. He looked at Wilder and there was a moment where something like sympathy crossed his face. "Your bleeding heart hurt our comrade. Doesn't that make you the bad guy now?"

Peter shrugged and got back to work helping Nick who was clearly outmatched and outnumbers. Amateurs. Hands outstretched a fresh set of threads, looping themselves around the corpses of fallen monsters, stitching them back together so he could use them as puppets. If you didn't know better it would seem like necromancy, in reality they were marionettes. Threads tugged and jerked making the bodies move. Scythe like appendages turning on their own kind. Dead bodies cared nothing for being hit in return.

He moved so he was covering Wilder physically with his body, his puppets trying to keep more of them off Nick. "Seems our fate to suffer fools this day Wilder. I will make sure you make it back alright." Peter couldn't stop to continue helping with the breach if he was tied up keeping the monster's occupied the least he could do was help Wilder where the other's clearly failed him. He wasn't a healer but he could keep him safe enough.

[skyyybreaker]

The girl lives. Nick wouldn’t allow her to be but a mere casualty in their war. But what could he possibly do if she was the reason for the rifts opening up? Luckily, he wasn’t the only one who acknowledged this sentiment. Wilder and Alphonse both seemed to share in his resolve. Peter, not so much. He couldn’t help but throw a glower at the son of Athena’s direction. There was logic behind those pragmatic words, but Nick refused to accept it. 

When the marionettes came to his rescue, Nick took the opportunity to return to the skies. He once again looked up at the heavens, begging for Zeus to stop the ceaseless barrage. His prayer remained unanswered, however. And when Nick couldn’t stop a particular bolt from lashing out towards the little girl, he used his body to absorb the impact instead. Like a comet, he came crashing back to the ground. His whole being tingled, but he was otherwise left unscathed except for a few singed strands of hair. 

A groan, one of both pain and frustration. He glanced over to see the son of Nemesis continuously taking damage from the spell and did his best to fly over to him. “Use me as your battery.” Nick offered his hand which was still radiating with sparks of electricity. “I just got struck by a pure form of natural energy. Channel it to fuel your magic.” The son of Zeus wasn’t completely sure if his theory would work. He hadn't the slightest affinity for the mystic arts. But try he shall regardless to guarantee their success.   

[nocturnalscns]

tw; depiction/description of burning skin

"that's not how it fucking works," this isn't how any of this works, this isn't fucking working.

wilder hisses as he holds his hands up, watching skin sizzle and flake away. feeding into the mist as vengeance demanded. the cast was on him. the price was hers. denied its cost, payment reverted to the caster. basic curse rules. "you're a fucking--" he winces, gritting his teeth. "--a fucking fighter, so fucking fight. you want that stupid kid to live so bad?" glaring as his chest heaves, as his jaw clenches, as sweat beads across his brow. "fucking own it. you and the bigger witch fucked me. so watch it fucking happen and do your job."

with enough time and focus, almost any level of suffering could be sat through. or, his perspective on pain hasn't reached the highest levels, leaving his estimation skewed. either way, he'd paced his breathing enough to settle in for the channel with a low, simmering stare, under the constant sizzle of his fingers-- the mist peeling down towards his palms.

[ancestralmagic]

alphonse growled, he was tired, he was overwhelmed and he was fucking pissed at this magic shit. he did not sign up for any of this, especially not to have brats half his age talking shit to him.

"shut your mouth and do your job. i'm doing mine." he told the complaining one, a gentler look was sent towards wilder--that was on him. not sorry, but not happy either. his mother had done things to sooth burning wounds, a family recipe--written down somewhere. he could get it, he would get it, once they were done. magic cure to magic ailment, but a different kind--his mother did not weave the same way he did. "there will be time for patching up when we're done." he promised the other two.

with the girl safe, more or less he focused once more on their goal. alone now, fueled but stretched thin he summoned whatever he had left into restoring the mist.

split focus, tired bones and too much asked of a muscle he just started to train. or whatever the fuck was an apt metaphor for magic and ancestor yapping at his heels.

still, there were very few jobs alphonse left undone and this would not be one of them. magic to magic, cold hard will cutting through the chatter.

the mist filled the air around them, slowly turning cultists to common people, monsters to shadows in a child's dream and the magic filling the air around them into mere whispers. fragments of imagination no one would believe in.

[wizardsofourtime]

@ancestralmagic wanted an Avery starter

"You know if you keep treating me like, Daddy. An't gonna have a hard time kicking me out of your bed." the witch pointed out with no real heat in his words, his naked form spread out along his brother's bed. Long dark hair already wild from the sheer intensity of the fuck they'd shared. His own come was cooling, splattered along his chest and stomach as he reached up a hand to run through his long hair, as he peered over at the other older man. The various runes and markings that covered Avery's body still glowed slightly with power and magic that he'd felt so very connected to moments ago. The feeling was better than any drug he could make. The feeling of the other inside him, the older man telling him, was oh so good. God. He really was a mess of Daddy issues, wasn't he?

He pushed the thought away as he shifted himself off the bed and leaned over towards the older, taller man. Avery's long hair fell down the side of his head as he placed a kiss against Alphonse's broad chest with a little hum.

"Please tell me you got another round in you..." That was Avery. Greedy. Hungry. A slut though and though. His hand was already moving down to tease along the other's cock.

"Or did I tire you out?" He teased, his runes already starting to glow on his body just a little brighter.

[ancestralmagic]

"You're already in my bed whenever you get the chance, boy." He shook his head, staring at him. Tired and spent Avery still looked pretty excited, pretty eager and at home in his bed. At least that meant he wasn't going after some stupid boy's cock.

He watched the magic markings, studying them. More fluent now, even if he was a little done after the little quest they had--feeling the raw bite of magic, having to contend with the phantoms that powered him through his mother. both his mothers. Too many mothers, this was why Avery was so desperate, hanging off his cock most of the time.

"If you tired me out," Rough hands grabbed him by the waist ending his little tease as he placed Avery above his cock, quite easy to slide in when he was that eager, that freshly fucked and filled with cum, "you'd just magic my cock to hardness again and ride it."

He raised his hand to slap his face lightly, before pushing his thumb between those sweet, lovely lips.

"Can you even get enough of your father, son?" The question was punctuated with a deep hard thrust, making it impossible to hear any words before he dragged him down into a kiss.

[heroicfolklores]

A day and a half here, and Augustus already longed for fresh air. The city had its own charm and character, that much was undeniable, but the throng of people, the dazzling lights, and the soaring skyscrapers created a sensory storm that proved a little too overwhelming for an old hound like him. 

Too much, too loud, too crowded. 

So, when Alphonse suggested to skip the tourist traps and go back to their room, he had audibly let out a sigh of relief. “I’m just darn glad to be somewhere quiet,” he drawled back, voice husky and edged with want, breath teasing the shell of the other’s ear. His breath did hitch a second later as rough palms squeezed both of his cheeks, each one packed with muscle and quite the handful. An area rarely ventured by others. 

“Dirty, dirty…” he chuckled at the other’s words, the promise laced to each breathy syllable, before a slow moan creaked from his lips at the slow drag of that tongue on his neck, that... masterful tongue he presently craved elsewhere. “Yeah, you wanna claim me, hm? Go somewhere only a few lucky soldiers been in?” The question escaped through a smirk. But both of knew that Augustus had longed for this through the stretch of very long years, a decade even. He had longed for the stretch of the other within him. 

Turned and pressed against the glass wall, overlooking the entire skyline of Tokyo, the veteran’s cock throbbed to the seductive tune of the other’s words while he made a nod, dazed. “Yes. Fuck, yes–” Thick and sweet, Alphonse’s words were like a cloud of scented smoke, filling every fiber of his being with a need for the other’s cock, with a need to be bred. Every sensation suddenly felt amplified, every touch a stroke of heat, and when Alphonse’s tongue probed into him, unannounced, the sound wrung out of his throat was a breathless gasp.

Heat shot through his body. It consumed him entirely from within, his walls set aflame as the other dug deeper and feasted. Augustus’s body writhed, a hand reaching behind to push and anchor itself on the round of Alphonse’s skull. “Alp–” a groan, followed by a desperate rocking of his hips backwards. Through his dazed, half lidded vision, Augustus caught a glimpse of the moon overhead. Bright and circular, nearly full.

Fuck, that meant– 

Yes, it meant he was nearing a full, uncontrollable heat.    

[ancestralmagic]

He damn near growled at the mention of others. Whatever Augustus had done, whoever he had let touch him before Alphonse--he did not want to hear it, to think it. He was not, he'd never been possessive but Augustus... this part of him? It felt his, it felt just meant for him. He needed to make it his, and make him forget anyone else had ever had the honor.

Deep down, he thought Augustus felt it too. That need to have him there, to give himself to Alphonse like Alphonse had done back in the woods. Taken by him like they had always danced around, a long time coming. Orbits finally aligning.

"It is mine, I think," He whispered, low and hungry, voice carrying the weight of all the years of yearning and desire they suffered through. Some of them caused by Augustus himself. "Do you not agree?"

He might have said more but his tongue was far too busy dragging around the flesh of Augustus ass and the sensitive, nearly untouched skin of his hole. He was a man starving, more beast than man as he ate him out hands digging into his hips as he pulled Augustus back into his face. Let him pant into the glass for all of Tokyo to see him fall apart under his man's tongue.

There was magic old, magic of souls. And there was magic deep, magic of bodies. The moon was a feature of both. He felt the shift in the air, in his bones, in his soul. He felt the taste of something sweet, an addictive scent coming off the already addictive man in front of him. The one he sought, the one he gave himself to. The one that belonged with him...

He devoured him while a hand closed around his skull, pushing him deeper, gasping out his name or some other word. A growl ripping out of his throat as he felt spit and slick run down his chin, as he fucked Augustus with lips and tongue, savoring every drop of him and feeling the heat rise higher and higher.

His hands did quick work of his own pants, cock hard and leaking and too warm around the base. His hunger for Augustus had always been primal, but it reached another level, teeth sunk into the skin of one asscheek as he spread him open to see him leaking, leaking for him.

"Fuck--Auggie," He whispered brokenly, stroking his cock as he stared up at him in awe. Awe and a desperate need to claim, to bite, to breed. Auggie. He repeated into the skin of his ass, licking him balls to tailbone and getting slick all over his face as he climbed on higher, tongue running up his muscled back until he was looking into those wide, glowing eyes. Cock pressed against his crack, fitting so right--of course it'd be just right.

"Say it," He whispered, wet lips brushing the other man--were they men, anymore? Hands like claws on his skin as he claimed those lips, cock rubbing against the copious slick dripping down his hole, across his thighs. Cock drenched in it as he aligned. "Tell me you need me, tell me what you're craving..." His thighs trembled with the effort not to push in, not to sink his teeth into Augustus and make him his, once and for all.

"Tell me you need my cock in you," nosing at him, sniffing deeply at his scent. The taste of his need, of heat and instinct to breed and be bred. Sharing his own taste and slick as it dripped from mouth to mouth.

Right there, where gods and men could watch them do it. "Tell me you need me to breed you." He was feral, overtaken by something else--maybe by Augustus himself. Waiting just for the hint of it, just for the sweetest of surrenders before he sunk into him whole, down to the overheating base that seemed to bulge out inside him.

There was little thought, little rationalization as he pressed the man he loved into glass and sunk his teeth into his neck. Blood filled mouth while cock filled Augustus, tied together body and soul as Alphonse roared and stopped holding back the urge to breed him.

[heroicfolklores]

the ghosts of a long-abandoned past raged around them, an invisible yet inexorably strong current. augustus could feel its pull, its relentless tug. flotsam and debris rushed along the riptides, threatening to drag him under. shame, guilt, regret, all of it surged through the current with a roaring force, thrumming in his ears like a second pulse.

but there was more. he caught the scent of brackish water, the vivid air of a long-gone bayou, days spent by the shore with moss curling around their ankles, mosquito welts dotting their arms, and a childhood unburdened by the weight of adult understanding. the two boys who once lived in those moments were long gone, but remnants of them lingered in the two men now meeting again through that strange thing called fate.

the bark of the tree bit into his back. augustus didn’t move. his eyes remained steady, fixed on the embers in the other man’s—his old friend’s—smoldering gaze.

“an asshole. and a bad friend,” he added, his voice edged with surrender.

this close, he could smell him. herbs and incense. the old alphonse.

this close, he could feel him.

as if reading his thoughts—no, as if knowing exactly what he wanted—augustus felt the press of the other man’s lips against his own a heartbeat later. his body stilled instinctively, only for that stillness to melt as he gave in, arms rising to pull him closer. breath and heat and apologies tangled together in the kiss augustus returned, hungry and unrestrained.

“i have no right,” he panted between kisses, hands trailing down the other’s back, remembering, gripping. “but i’ve never been a righteous man.” a brief pause, a breath. “and neither are you.”

his teeth caught his own upper lip, a faint, reckless edge in his voice.

“i’ll make you remember every inch of me.”

[ancestralmagic]

the taste, familiar, heavy on his tongue. the desire, thick, all-consuming as it had ever been. fate, fickle fate, testing and teasing--pulling them together by the drawstrings.

he wanted to rage, he wanted to fight. he wanted to surrender.

he kissed augustus like a starving man, gripping him, licking into his mouth feeling beard against beard and the pleasing burn that made his cock awaken in his pants and beg for the other man.

like poison. like ambrosia for his wounds.

and neither are you.

bold words, bold hands down his back. feeling their way where he knew he wanted to reach. bolder still as he made promises--promises that shouldn't be sweet. shouldn't make him shudder and realize how empty he was without augustus.

"who said--" whispered breathlessly between kisses, "who said i'll feel every inch of you?" he teased, head down nipping at his neck as his hands undid augustus' pants. as he freed him into the night air, big, thick, beautiful.

his body was free for his old friend to touch, while alphonse's gaze was taken in by that cock, the familiar scent of his friend deeper now mixed in with the musk of that part of him that had been present in alphonse's dreams for so long.

"no man can say they have fucked me," he whispered in his ear, mouth watering despite himself. hand closed around a shaft large enough to fill it, perfect around it like they were meant to fit. had he not seen that before, ran away from something that was beyond the two of them. "what makes you think you can be the first?" his voice broke at the end, desire coiled tight, cock warm in his hand--responsive to every touch, to every stroke of his thumb over the tip, to the way his fist hit full balls on the way down.

hungry lips teased the stubbled jaw of his friend. going for the throat, always the way with them. stopping to spit on his hand, coating it across the dark skin of his cock--the oldest of magic drawing them together as he surrendered to what he'd wanted since before he understood want.

"what makes you think you won't be feeling every inch of me tonight?" he asked, even if by now augustus had already laid sweet claim to the muscled cheeks of his ass.

[ancestralmagic]

@heroicfolklores

Japan. Augustus.

It didn't seem real, it didn't seem like him. Yet here he was, sharing drinks, remembering times where things were simpler, better. Where he burned with the same longing he still felt for the other.

Their reunion had hardly quenched the thirst that took root in them when they were near, even if he let the other man feast on him. Take what he wanted and give what they both needed...

They played at propriety but beneath it he could tell the hunger in those eyes, and it didn't take more than the waving of bedroom keys to have Augustus following him upstairs.

"Thought the first time I fucked you would be at home, by the bayou..." He whispered against his ear, hands running down to grab those thick cheeks, feel them spread over his fingers. "This works fine though." His voice is a rumble, his pants are tight already and the door hadn't even closed as he takes him towards the glass window.

"Right here, where the whole of Tokyo could watch us." His tongue runs down Augustus' neck. He is seldom that voracious, that eager, he is not a man desperate for a fuck. Alphonse is a man longing to be inside the one who bewitched him, body and soul.

He might even let Augustus in again, bend him over and make him take it over and over until he is well bred and overflowing with cum but for now he needs this...

Hands spreading Augustus thighs, undoing and lowering his pants with a mere flick of his wrist--the benefits of witchcraft. "You're gonna give it to me won't you?" He asked, thick and seductive, "gonna let me claim that ass..." they both knew this was a long time coming, and so he didn't wait before turning him around and falling to his knees, face brushing shoulder and back before he buried it between his cheeks, tongue poking in to get the first taste of his man. Tip just brushing the tight ring. His cock throbbed between his thighs as Tokyo's skyline bore witness to him savoring what was undoubtedly going to become his favorite meal along with the same man's cock and balls.

Despite his earlier comment he was sure this right here and nowhere else was home.

[magicalmisguidings]

"Is there every enough fuel to burn?" Peter asked dryly, his kin always wasting time and resources making the illogical emotional choice. Peter wanted to join the fun of course, couldn't let bleeding hearts and magic users have all the fun. Using his threads he pressed his divinity into them, tapping into the pure concept of weaving itself- artistry, the practical aspect of it as well. "Hear me Mother, The first weaver. Patroness of artisans. Let me use my gifts to weave back the rift put in the mist, let me help bind it closed."

Piercing the veil himself he tugged on his stitches and pulled tight, using all h is strength to try and help his teammates bind the tear together. Like darning a sock, or patching up old clothing. It was as close as the cold blooded son of Athena got to healing. Stitches.

"Let the veil fucking eat them all. Child included. Our siblings safety is more important than any of them." His siblings specifically, he was far less sentimental about the other demigods if he were being perfectly honest. "Devour them all so we can protect our own, what is the lives of a few in the wake of the world?"

[skyyybreaker]

Darkened skies rumbled and crackled with booming thunder as the battle below continued. The almighty Ruler of Olympus was undoubtedly displeased. Not just because the barrier separating both worlds was growing thinner by the second, but due to his own son’s nonsensical interference. One single strike from the legendary lightning bolt could have ended this, hadn’t Nick allowed his heart and strong moral compass to get in the way. 

Additional strikes of lightning rained down from the sky, each one targeting the monstrous little girl. But once again, Nick stepped in to will the bolts to strike various cultists and serpentine creatures instead. “Father, please!” The princeling begged, affixing his gaze to the heavens. “She’s innocent in all this!” He argued, willing to incur the wrath of Zeus himself later if it meant doing the right thing. Nick was starting to wish he hadn’t invoked the god’s aid. Zeus was making his mission to save both their world and the child so much harder.  

He gave an appreciative nod as Wilder and Alphonse worked their literal magic to save the little girl. Peter was the only one who didn’t seem to care, but made no attempt to try and stop them at the very least. In his efforts to divert the monsters away from the others, Nick found himself swarmed. He erected a wall made of strong gusts of wind, ensuring any creature foolish enough to walk through would be ripped to shreds. “There’s so many…” The princeling trailed, grip on the hilt of his sword tightening. Nick turned around just briefly to check on the progress of his allies. “Any luck with the veil? It’s getting harder to keep these things at bay.”

[nocturnalscns]

"fuck."

wilder's spell was not, in fact, protecting the little girl -- not if she was the one responsible for the veil's destruction. pressure. from all sides, from expectation, from the needs of the moment. pressure, pounding in against wilder's skull, against wilder's tenebrous connection to magic itself. hard-fought, hard-won, barely within the rules of divine access.

"fuck."

it's beyond easy for one born to magic to challenge his effects; overwriting or overruling, like he never had jurisdiction in the first place. what mattered was the veil. what mattered was working together. what might not matter, was his own need to balance the scales, to harm those who had done harm.

"fuck!!!"

fire. his own. the haze, overruled, turning on him. he fights to shake it off, the hungering coil of retribution once sent to seek the one who tore the veil. with its direction forbidden, it turned on the one who called it. fingers, searing, blackening.

"ffff--fuck you, fuck your fucking pity call, fffffuck this hurts--"

tears, running down sides of his cheeks. but, the veil.

wilder poured, once again of himself, to the veil.

here's to hoping the others didn't hate him enough not to help him back to the pegasi when all is said and done, his hands held upwards as they burned. chest heaving. falling to his knees, he holds. let the fighters fight. the veil will be remade.

[ancestralmagic]

"the world is more than just us." he responded, sharp, focused, judgemental; hands holding ever steady. child obscured even as magic tore at him, burning and itching like chemicals drifting through the air. he commanded magic like he once commanded a courtroom--the guilty, the innocent, the inbetween, dragged into the mud. the grey area the law left out, the sentence was not his to carry out, evidence, facts and the letter of the law.

he had seen which way the balance hanged one too many times. how innocent could one be if they stood by while evil was done in the name of the greater good? he strengthened himself. "focus on the mist, i will help later if i can." he did not enjoy seeing his fellow witch hurt, to watch magic assault his flesh like it assaulted alphonse's senses--by his own actions, guilt too would have to wait there were bigger fish to fry.

he did not call out to his mother for this was not her battle. he did not call the spirits to him, they would remain steady in shielding the girl. instead he held out one hand, all the paths before them made clear.

the lifting of the veil, the destruction of the world they knew. the preserving, the death and dying, the bodies littering the ground. a girl, dead, alive, guilty, innocent.

the cultists burned, siphoned by the magic, souls binding the hole they created. strengthening what was weakened by their hand; his other hand held steady, defending, guiding, deflecting spell and lightning. his body stilled, his throat felt dry, magic took its toll even when fuel burned all around them--his magic was a gift, a legacy of blood, sweat and wills that he had not heeded for too long but called in command now and they would demand their due.

but not now. not now. "the girl lives." He insisted, loud and angry. A clear warning, while his extended hand lowered, eyes closed as magic seemed to vibrate around his skin, like an old hymm piercing the still air around him. muscles tense, frozen as his hands closed into a dome, unwavering focus in tearing down whatever influence was once held over her but letting no harm through. ruling made, path chosen. there was no going back, just moving forward.

[illbeyouridle]

"Oh, nice." There's a pause between the initial 'oh' as the son of Hephaestus processes the purpose of the notebook. He nods along as Alphonse continued explaining, shoving another spoonful of food into his mouth. He chewed as he contemplated the notebook and it's details; the categorizations of spells and incantations. The taxonomy of such things and its probable importance in the written word. He eats another spoonful before simply saying, "It does."

"For the time being." Will adds. He gives Conrad a playful look, "I would ask how does a son of Hecate end up getting homework, but that might be the one thing we have in common." He chuckles, his spoon digs at the food on his plate, gathering the more green and savory bits of his half-assed meal before bringing it to his mouth. "You know I think I got a few things in the shop I could show you. Not exactly magic, but it would be fun to have a fresh pair of eyes."

[ancestralmagic]

He hummed to it, it made sense they would share that. Though he doesn't think he likes the surprise to his studying, not that he is like... some of the Athena children or some of his more library rat-like brothers but he does want to understand some of--all this. He never did appreciate the tone of surprise some people had when they realized just how well read he was, just how smart he was, but then again, it made it easy to take them down for it.

"Like what?" He asked, setting down his notebook again, "Is this a pickup line?" People in the island were horny and he wasn't blind to it. He was hardly immune to it either, but if he was promised something and it ended up being another thing well, he might not react the way the other hoped.

"If you just want a fuck you should say it, but if you have something interesting to show I'm willing to give it a look."

[magicalmisguidings]

For the serpent? For Typhon? So that was what they were up to. Releasing the beast from Mount Etna. Bane of Olympus, Father of all Monsters. As the earth cracked and more of those foul spawn ushered forth he couldn't help himself, his heart raced, his pupils dilated, his breath quickened. Excitement. Being able to use his abilities to their fullest. If you didn't know better in moments like this he seemed more akin to the war god than the goddess of wisdom. Even in his fervor though there was a measured and calculated rhythm to his actions.

The world moved like a game board, all of it pieces for him to movee, as he moved behind him trailed those divine threads, strings of the goddess weaver, silver strings ensnaring monsters and pulling them tight together, there were too many just for him, but he could restrict movement for Nick to heavy hit them like before. Or something. Though really this was his fault for messing around with that girl. If Peter had his way he would have split her head from her shoulders instead of silencing her with magic.

He slid along the ground pulled by his threads for more control and speed, moving to the witch's side so he could defend him should the creatures decide to target him. "I can cover you, we need you to finish fixing the mist." Peter, even with his arrogance wouldn't let any of them die. Or perhaps because of his arrogance.

"So what are we doing about the parents of that little monster? I don't think this is over till we deal with those three even if she is silenced."

[skyyybreaker]

When Nick signed up for this quest, he didn’t think they’d have to face the very same monstrous entity who terrorized ancient Greece and forced the gods to flee to the lands of Egypt. Only his Lord Father remained, and after an intense battle — the great beast was felled. Buried under layers of rock and sediment within Mount Etna, supposedly. Now these crazed fanatics intended to free Typhon and unleash chaos upon the world. Nick simply couldn’t idly stand by and let that happen.

Aberrant monstrosities began to emerge from the cracked earth. Serpentine, with razor sharp claws and a singular eye. One of the foul things smacked Nick with an elongated tail and sent the princeling flying backwards, likely as payback for him smiting down their assigned conjurers earlier. Luckily, Nick managed to take the brunt of the impact with his golden shield and was relatively unscathed. He looked around, readying his sword and slicing through any oncoming attackers headed towards him. With divinely-enhanced strength, Nick cut clean through various heads and appandages as he made his way back to the rest of the group. 

Peter was doing a phenomenal job dwindling their numbers with his threads, but more kept surfacing from the large cracks. Nick doubted he could invoke the fury of the heavens a second time, but the clouds above continued to boom with thunderous might so surely the King of Olympus was still watching over them. “Everyone, keep fighting! These things gotta stop at some point.” That was certainly the hope.

His jaw dropped when both Alphonse and Wilder pinpointed the source of this calamitous event. The very same little girl he’d helped from earlier… she was no ordinary child. Nick swallowed hard, unable to believe his eyes. “Maybe we can still save her.” A crackle of thunder and lightning lashed once more, this time directly towards her. However, Nick willed the attack to miss at the last second using his own authority over electricity. “Don’t! There’s gotta be a way to help her!” In Nick’s foolish little head, she was but another pawn the cultists used. Surely she couldn’t be blamed for the sins of her parents and those robed zealots. 

“Can't you guys magic her back to normal?”

[nocturnalscns]

"magic her back to normal," wilder mouthed back, brows high. "so this can be blamed on us," indicating himself and alphonse, "when we can't save her?" slight sneer, more to one side than the other, as he gazed across the battlefield. "so be it. I'll shoulder the weight."

the natural scales of balance were never truly fair, not with a mortal sense of justice. actions taken were repaid in kind. transformed, under duress, at the hands of those one should have trusted-- those were moral, mortal judgements. the scales balanced for weight, not intent.

"let those who sundered this veil be sundered in turn; life given, to the fuel the barricade, returned--"

crystals raised high, lighter under his chin; he'd have a scorch mark under his jaw, but the words needed to burn. pain for pain. actions not taken lightly. his voice raising to a shout, calling to those who'd arrived with them. whether or not they would be considered allies, would be determined in the next few moments. the spell, damning and hungry, crawling from the witch's shadow. clawing forward, a billowing fog prepared to devour, to return power to the veil that must be maintained.

"choose which world we save." prophesies, never avoided, merely fulfilled. "the one you want to see, or the one we fucking live in."

[ancestralmagic]

magic her back to normal.

which world to save...

he spent his whole life doubting magic, refusing the legacy in his bloodline only to find out how loud blood could speak. that he was the very legacy he tried to run from.

he had so much to catch up on, but there would be no time. his choices led him here, now, and all he could do was act.

ancestors help you, child. his aunt would shake her head at him and say. ancestors help me. he echoed now.

he has always been of the mind the world was always burning. it was a matter of choosing which fires to put out. he would not put out a little girl's fire when she might be, as children often were, just a piece in a board too big for them all.

let the mist patch itself. let it drag down monsters back to wherever they came from, let a child scream no more--and those who came for them, let them feel the burn of one who reaches too greedily for the ever burning flame of magic.

raised hand over heart, sure steps towards the fire. mist rose all around them, dense and thick... the figures dancing around the child turned to look at him, visible at once in shrouds of white and grey. acknowledgement at last, as they drew even closer to the girl, draping her in ghostly white, hands over her arms and shoulders as they all faded from view.

"we've enough fuel to burn."

his voice echoed many others, lingering in the air as the mist stretched further, like a living thing. it dragged in the slimy creatures that had been conjured and set them aflame, tying together the figures that tried to slither back into the darkness and dragging them across broken pavement and into the light. they screamed now like they were tied at the stake as conflicting, intertwined magic brushed past fabric and skin, slithering into their souls. it consumed body and mind, erased their futures, claimed their very spirits to power the battling magic; the schism of wills.

[magicalmisguidings]

"Nicholas stop playing super hero and getting distracted." Peter was far more focused on the physical task at hand. Moving with all the fluid grace of a dancer, he slid across the battlefield using his threads to wrap around any living thing that wasn't demigod- and hurtle himself forward, doing the mathematical calculations mentally on just where he was going to land.

Threads weaving around the stoplight, slicing through the juncture that held it up in the air, sending it crashing down on anyone unlucky enough to be under it- and better yet disrupt any concentration anyone near it had. A distraction could be just as devastating as any singular blow in general.

"Keep on working magic men, Nick and I will keep the flies off you." Peter wove another pattern between his fingers, a glowing silvery net wrapping itself around another monster, slicing it into more chunks. The thrill of battle sent a shiver down his spine, his brilliant intellect made him a cold blooded killer, not pausing to care if there were any more wayward children for Nick to rescue. He'd cut them down too if it meant they were going to accomplish their goal. "Keep one of those men alive, and toss him this way. I'll make sure he doesn't keep chanting but we can get some information from him."

[skyyybreaker]

A superhero? Hardly, but he did have a soft spot for saving those in need. Distracted on the other hand, was a far more accurate depiction. In just a brief moment, the son of Nemesis was seemingly stilled by obscured foes in the distance. Nick also felt a surge of arcane magic wash over him, but he managed to shrug off any ill effects. The rest of his crew looked fine as well, so they need only find a way to break the spell on Wilder. 

Nick took to the skies, trying to get a better lay of the land and scan the battlefield from a bird’s eye view. He couldn’t exactly get a good look at the cultists below due to the magic partly concealing them, but the chosen son of Zeus knew where they were positioned enough to land an effective barrage of attacks. “Hear me, zealots! Olympus smite you!” The princeling exclaimed, causing the skies up above them to grow dark as storm clouds rolled in and thunder boomed from within the heavens. 

Typically, Nick had trouble controlling the weather and couldn’t call forth a bolt that didn’t come from his own fingertips. He was risking a lot for little to no reward. For a moment, there was nothing as he flew in near deafening silence. Then all of a sudden, lightning rained down from above and struck the various cultists below in a magnificent display of brilliant flashes. It seemed Daddy Zeus was feeling particularly generous that day and lent his beloved son a hand. 

Once the smoke and ozone was clear from the air, Nick descended to assess the damage. None of his party members looked hurt, which was good. Every hooded figure on the other hand? Burned to a crisp on the behest of Zeus’ fury. “I think that did it…” He remarked and scratched the back of his head. “Can you guys feel if the mist is back up?” Nick asked the more magically inclined individuals in the group. Surely he managed to disrupt the spell after such a glorious show of heavenly might.

[nocturnalscns]

between the others' efforts, wilder's hands were free to cast once more. most of the damage that needed dealing was done. all that was left for a support position like him, was to find the source of all this trouble in the first place.

"there's still a wrong that needs righted." the balance of the mist. two worlds, divided. that rang a bell, at least for a second...

both hands before him, crystals hanging from one, he grabs for his lighter and flicks it on in his other.

"I'll reveal whatever broke the barrier in the first place." bold words, when he only has half an idea how to do it. defining the existence of the barrier as a more natural law, as something that needed to be upheld, a boundary that must be respected-- there. once he was able to define an injustice, he could target the one who caused it. both hands, held high. lighter up, crystals hanging down. forming the incantation in his mind, his eyes close, and he doesn't say it out loud. he's not about to embarrass himself like that.

with the casting complete, the little flame streaked upwards, lengthening impossibly far, like a trail of light. racing, racing, racing towards whatever broke through the mist. wilder had to hold the spell, so he couldn't race after it, but he did follow with his eyes...as the trail followed after a little girl, walking up to two adults. seemingly, her parents.

"wait..." wilder's eyes jumped from side to side, where did the spell go wrong? how exactly did he phrase it? no, unless--

having pointed out what-- no, who-- had pierced through the mist, he could only brace for what might come next.

[ancestralmagic]

it is done, magic slipping through fingers. divine power called forth out in the open, a hint of luck maybe, or the training the others did in the island.

the spirits had come to his aid, if nothing else, but it was not yet over. more magic poured over the open wound he could still feel bleeding through.

wilder's casting had rung through, he had no doubt--even if his own expertise could be called into question. if it pointed to the little girl and the figures now along her, then they had somehow caused it.

the hand that turns the hidden key.

whose pair of hands did they need to sway?

"this hardly seems the safest place for a little girl, does it?" he asked of the figures as they approached, walking away from the scorched ones on the ground without letting go of the magic that swirled around him. of the whispers that guided him forward.

"but i'm guessing there's a reason you are here." he eyed his fellow demigods, "let us fix what you broke, and you need not end like your friends."

threatening came all too easily, but his words left little mark on the adults, and made little difference to the girl. he heard a deep dark chuckle, and then chanting once more.

before he could interrupt, the girl screeched. laurel falling to the ground, the necklace she'd been adorned with cracked. as her hands went to her head, as if in deep pain.

"for the great serpent," the man shouted, "for typhon!"

the streets cracked beneath their feet, the screams continued and the longer it went on the more he could feel the tearing of the mist. worse, through the cracks, more beasts crawled out, jumping around and joining on the destruction as the cultists stepped away to make space for them.

"oh for fuck's sake." alphonse cursed, jumping into the hood of a car as he called forth his magic once more. he had just an inkling to go on, just a shot in the dark as he shared a look with his fellow witch in the group.

he had used the voices to overwhelm, could he now guide them to silence? it was as good an attempt as any.

eyes closed, mouth pursed as he whispered words once told to him. once more he asked for aid of those he turned his back to, and once more he had to fight a battle in his head to guide the magic where it needed to go: shades circled the little girl drowning out her screams as she fell to the ground, still crying out but no longer clutching her head.

he might have felt like giving himself a little pat for it, but before he might feel tempted to he was knocked off the car by one of those disgusting little snake things.

[magicalmisguidings]

"Well that's a shame." If Peter could use magic that would definitely be what he would practice. Being able to see every perspective of a battlefield? Unbeatable. To see the future? Even better. He had tried dowsing early on in his demigod career but it never worked for him like he wanted it to. No witchcraft in him. "Also my name is Peter. Not kid. If you'd be so kind."

Now that he could feel, whatever the son of Hecate was doing. It was like the mist was roiling beneath his fingers. Answering his call, which inevitably would draw the ire of whoever was taking their time to weaken it. True to form though, the tension in Peter's threads tightened, without a second thought he pulled them taut. As fine as silk and stronger than steel he yanked and whatever was caught in, only flesh gave way, his thread slicing through skin and bone. A monster for sure. Something serpentine in shape, whatever it was had been caught by surprise in his trap. Spinning around he was disgusted by the thing he stared at. Some snake like thing with sickles for arms.

"One of the things coming through the mist, disgusting. What is it?" he yanked tighter and the trap finished it's job before disappearing, the wet slop of meat hitting the ground, blood pooling under the dismembered beast. "I got first blood. Better luck next time, look alive boys." Peter was already weaving more threads between his fingers, making them appear in the air around them to catch anything that may fly at them.

[skyyybreaker]

The aura washed over him like a wave, offering a level abjuration on top of his own aegis. Nick gave an appreciative nod, grateful to be among such powerful magic users. If they were against an arcane foe, Wilder and Alphonse would surely come in handy. The son of Zeus found out the hard way that sometimes striking everything with a sword or a lightning bolt doesn’t always yield the best results. 

He followed closely behind, still keeping keen eyes over the deserted city. Nobody was around to talk or provide them with information like they originally anticipated. While the others proceeded forward, Nick slipped away a bit once his ears picked up a soft whimpering a short distance away. Common sense compelled him to steer clear and stick with the rest of the group, but he simply couldn’t ignore a cry for help. 

Through divinely enhanced strength, he moved some heavy rubble out of the way and discovered a child hiding behind a large wooden crate. A small girl, around the age of six or seven. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” Nick assured her and took a few cautious steps forward. He offered a warm smile and extended his hand to her. “My friends and I are here to help.” The princeling gestured to his party members nearby. “What exactly happened? Do you know who did this?” 

The girl didn’t answer and remained silent but took Nick’s hand to stand up. Her beady brown eyes looked at him. She was visibly distraught and still shaken over what transpired. 

Reaching into his backpack, Nick procured a few trinkets he was given by a few grateful villagers from a previous mission. Gently, he adorned her with a necklace which included a small lightning-bolt shaped pendant dangling on the bottom. Nick then placed a laurel wreath crown atop her ahead. “My Lord Father watches over us all. Stay here and we’ll take care of whoever did this.” A gentle pat on the head as he waved her goodbye, but not before she pointed towards a direction westward. “Is something over there?” He asked. She nodded, meekly. 

After bidding the little girl farewell, Nick rushed back to regroup with the rest of the party. The princeling gestured to the direction he was given, the same one where Alphonse spotted an ominous red glow. “There. Let’s try and ambush whoever wrecked this place.” If it wasn’t already aware of their presence, that is. Simply Nick’s positive outlook and wishful thinking.

And of course it fucking knew. One of Peter's trap sliced clean through solid bone as the other demigod yanked back a bloody appendage shortly after. Eyes sparking with electricity, Nick prepared to smite down whatever else was coming with the full might of the heavens. “Get in formation. We can't let it strike us from behind.” He pressed his back against an ally and encouraged the remaining two to do the same.

[nocturnalscns]

a child.

of course.

wilder cursed and turned away, glancing to the hecate-born; a child sees something they're not supposed to, tells an impossible story, nothing is lost. but a child runs to parents in a region fraught with danger, and less believing eyes come looking.

the mist needed to be repaired. sooner better than later. before some things, like a shiny golden necklace, couldn't be taken back.

walking with a frustrated sense of purpose, wilder did not slow or stop as he threw curses one way or another. claws to those who swung them. in the distance, red.

stop lights.

what should rotate between colors, instead stood frozen. and below them, hands. raised. a sway, gentle, to and fro, some unheard rhythm. words muttered soft, too low to hear or language too profane to understand. wilder's arms swung almost wildly as he wove a hex towards silencing, to punish each foul word spoken with a lash of pain, but his hands stopped in mid air. frozen, or perhaps locked. like the traffic lights. he looked to one raised hand, then the other, more irritated than panicked.

"fucking get whoever that is, so I can help you!"

[ancestralmagic]

alphonse frowns.

a look is shared, a concern filtered through a priority system. the mist, monsters. magic like static all around him, the cold grasp of something near, something older than all of them.

and then a sign, wilder moving before he does. a figure under the glowing red light, chanting something? whatever his fellow demigod intended to do seemed to be blocked, stopped somehow--there was a word for it he was sure but he did not care right then. wasn't that just great? the trappings of magic never ceased to make his day.

he would barrel forward usually, his size was enough of a deterrent to stop people from getting on his wrong side but this was a new world with new, still undiscovered rules and for someone used to having his voice as his weapon now it was a literal one.

were he more well versed, perhaps he could've disappeared into the mist. taken place next to the lone figure and ended this--as it was the best he could do was slip forward with the old voices guiding his hands.

mist, the usual kind, gathered around him as he moved. drifting forward with his steps, as it crossed the air it almost revealed more figures walking side by side with him. unseen presence strengthening his will, even if he could feel how unpleased they were by him.

this was his mother's domain he knew, and he leaned on authority where experience failed--or on distraction where result might lack. "go." he whispered, echoing the sentiment in wilder's words as the old figures at his side faded into the mist, sliding further than he could at the current pace.

his voice cut through the eerie silence and the fading chant, eyes never wavering as his magic slowly reached its target; let the whispers echo in someone else's head for a change.

worst case the cold dark eyes now set on him made him more of a target than his companions who could now attack directly.

[illbeyouridle]

"I…" Will had begun, his fork poking, collecting a pretty assemblage of food on top of his spoon before shoving it down his throat and chewing. Chased with a generous imbibement of ichor wine, Will wipes his mouth with the side of his hand before continuing his thrilling words, "…didn't mean to. Just this damn kink in the design had my attention more than my hunger. My…" Another spoonful disappears in his mouth. "…name's Will, Hephaestus' son." His soft brown eyes take notice of the notebook in front of the other half blood. Will looks up plainly at Alphonse, then back at the notebook.

"What you got there?" There's no raised indicator in his voice, nor do his brows move to depict his curiosity. The next spoonful Will takes is taken lest hastily, staying in his mouth as he watches the notebook intently. He didn't mind his inquisitive nature as a son of Hephaestus, but it proved difficulty resisting the urge to investigate everything. "Notes? You working through something too?"

[ancestralmagic]

He frowns, from what he seen that is not quite uncommon for the children of Hephaestus, concerning, yes but not uncommon. He'd ask the doctor about it, but he doesn't seem less troubled than the rest of them either… was it the divine in their blood doing it, or was it the human. "It's a pleasure. Though I suggest…" He forgot for a second they no longer had alarms or technology, "you find a way to remember to eat." He didn't mean to father the other demigods, it just so happened some of them needed that. Badly.

This right there, just proved it. "You could say that." He said simply. And once it became clear the other would likely not drop it he sighed, what use was there keeping something so innocuous a secret. "I am told it is good to keep a grimoire. Spells, rituals, incantations. A lot to work through from scratch but I suppose comes with the territory."

"I hope that satisfies your curiosity, Will." He muttered, a raised brow before he opens back his notebook and started scribbling more notes now that he was no longer concerned about the others curious gaze.

[magicalmisguidings]

Naturally Peter thought he should have been chosen for this quest, well him or one of his brothers. To not take a child of Athena felt like it would be a severe misstep. That so so easy arrogance shining through as he sat on the flying horse, playing cat's cradle with his legs tight in the stirrups to keep himself seated, that and a few threads he had strategically placed.

He looked at the crew they had assembled. It seemed well balanced enough, a son of Hecate and a capable one at that. Necessity in this mission they had an weird connection to the mist. Looking about Peter, took in the surroundings which seemed by and large abandoned. Deserted. Though it seemed in some haste as there were still lights on in buildings, and boats still docked. He knew he was supposed to hope they weren't dead but he didn't actually care too much about it.

Peter had no sense for magic like that, the divinity he used was far less...witchy. His sense for the mist far less refined. "It certainly does. And the people. Where are they? A port like this should have much more people in it, perhaps we head further into town? Question to see who has actually seen the monsters." he said keeping his cards close to his chest for the moment, his fingers idly plucking the strings woven between his fingers. "Mister Alphonse, should we try to divine something using divination? I can lend you some string if you want to make a pendulum. I suppose I could see if there are any owls about who might be able to tell me about what is going on. Or snakes. They tend to like me the best." all the while he spoke Peter laid traps behind them, invisible strings that would tip him off if anyone were to sneak up behind them.

[skyyybreaker]

The call to arms came swifter than Nick anticipated. He barely had time to properly do his hair before needing to rush out the door to meet Chiron and Darius in the armory. There, he was given a run down of the mission and who was going with him. He recognized Peter from their memorable encounters. The other two, not so much. Yet Nick was delighted to have them by his side, regardless. Having some of the more magically inclined demigods would prove essential for the mission.

Nick on the other hand, was happy to play the role of muscle. He knew very little about the arcane arts, nor would his powers greatly help in that regard. But should the rest of his team require a front liner, he deemed himself perfectly capable of the job. If they were to fight monstrous adversaries along the way, he’d offer his sword and shield without question. Who knows, there might not even be a need for violence. In which case, the best he could do was offer moral support and be a cheerleader for the rest of the group.

As they landed, Nick remembered to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Despite his desire to float around for easier mobility, he didn’t want to fully expose himself to the public. Not when they were trying so hard to keep their two worlds separate. “It all looks so… unassuming.” He remarked after finding the right word. To the untrained eye and his own for that matter, the town didn’t scream magical breach. He thought for a moment and nodded at Peter’s suggestion. “Good idea. Hopefully they’re willing to talk so we can find a lead.” If not, then maybe Nick could charm them into spilling the beans. The son of Zeus was known to be quite persuasive when necessary.

He’d take up the rear and keep an eye out for anything bizarre, allowing the others to move forward. 

[nocturnalscns]

quite the little team that'd been put together. hecate, athena, zeus, and then... nemesis.

wilder straightened himself up. he'd need to pull his weight, continually proving he was able to work against type. noting which of them were more likely to face combat head on, wilder started muttering and gesturing with the crystals in nick's direction.

retribution to fall upon those who would strike him. ill fate to those who would cross him.

it's a bit difficult to work without specific information, but he could at least put the most general hexes in place. he notes the strings, frowns, and nods; the last thing they'd want would be getting caught from behind.

"to town, then." whichever one would lead, the path seemed clear enough. if it wasn't for the growing sense of unease, wilder might've had to guess a little at the direction. all the way until things got a little bit obvious. the first building coming into real view had some damage, chunks knocked off the corner. a dragged path that led inwards, towards what was probably the center of town.

"careful." voice low. hands working, the jingle of the crystals faint, as he'd spread his hands wide-- protection, however thin, over all four of them. something that could knock off a brick from a wall, wilder went for more blunt of a barrier; stronger against solid hits than scattered blows.

[ancestralmagic]

he walked ahead, not used to waiting, lingering or hesitating--and seeing little reason to start now, even if others were readier to throw fists he was a little on the older and larger size and not one to hide behind anyone. "divination is not my specialty kid." he told peter, focusing on what he could see and what he could not see but feel instead of any fancy magic he was not party to.

he missed his brother terribly that second, even if he'd likely prove too much a distraction here.

the whispers fade and rise as they walk, the mist grows weaker than it had been and the sight of people, either going about their day or reacting to the disturbance still doesn't happen.

whatever magical protection the son of nemesis offers them, he feels it wash over his body, magic upon magic and that makes a bell ring somewhere deep.

there was intent behind these actions, as they had already agreed, now he wondered what could possibly cause this damage and compromise the shroud between one world and the next. which one they'd be able to save...

"don't like feeling like a sitting duck..." he whispered to the others, footsteps on empty streets, caution words whispered on his ears. deep old voices that seldom heed his calls but now. "if something's tearing down the mist let's see if we can get their attention." he nodded to the others, the ones ready for a fight, walking towards an intersection where red lights glowed eerily. no use fighting prophecy.

his hands rose, reaching around him, to the sea they left behind--to the guiding voices behind the veil, the fingers on shoulders and down his spine. drawing forth, bridging the gap.

come on now, he whispered as he weaved and stretched the mist further; he drew it in like a blanket over the city and marked them all in glowing red for anyone keeping tabs on the town.

bait was slightly better than sitting duck, in his opinion.

[nocturnalscns]

while he wasn't certain he'd be among the longest-running in any mission, seven years did put him over a good amount. as much as wilder might grunt and grumble about people coming to him, he relished the opportunity. to guide, to support, to aide. to return things to proper balance, or so he'd hoped.

not wanting to appear overbearing, he did skip asking for one last gear check before they'd departed. it was too late by then. if they needed the pegasi to get there, then there'd be no turning around once they've landed. nothing to do but move forward.

the landing area seemed relatively clear, but something did feel...off. a sense in the air, a hovering. having lived on the island for some time, wilder was likely so suffused in the mist he'd have a hard time picking it out. but here, something was out of balance. a debt to be paid. glancing to the others with him, he pulls out a tied strand of some crystals from inside his open vest.

"please tell me someone else feels that."

[ancestralmagic]

alphonse had a lot of getting used to do, magic had always been a chip on his shoulder. something tied around his ankle, pulling him back whenever he got too far. people came to his mother and his aunts for herbs and curses and charms, they came to convene with the dead and to pay their respect--that was not, had never been alphonse. until he was forced to be.

there were truths more powerful than disbelief.

it was humbling, to sit across someone like those people sat across his mother and hear a prophecy that now rung on his ears as he rode a pegasus towards fated encounters.

where threefold paths in shadow meet, and truth walks bare where none should see, the hand that turns the hidden key may bind the breach—or set it free. to close the wound, you must decide: which world to save, which truth to hide

he repeats the words, trying to make sense of them as he dismounts, eyes looking around the place they've been left off. there is a strangeness to the air, a prickly feeling of something stretching thin, of a crossroad to be walked.

he grunts at the display of the son of nemesis, not so easily dismissed now the veil had been lifted off his eyes. "clear as day," he frowned, the seemingly desert port they've been left on did not strike him as particularly relevant but maybe that was by design. "why here, of all places?"

he tried to tune in to whispers from the other side, to lean into instead of run from the cold touch that gripped him every now and then. they had a hidden key to find, or something.

the voices are off and distant, like static and of little help--did he expect anything else? but as he walked around the place, searching for more the wrongness of the feeling grew. the mist he'd felt long before he saw through it faltering. "this feels a little... deliberate," if so, they could just undo what had been done. patch up what had been ripped.