[captianimarum]

INDEPENDENT and SEMI-SELECTIVE - low activity Multi-Muse RP blog of both Canon and OC characters from Hellboy, Devil May Cry, Castlevania, Yakuza, Coral Island, Rise of the Ronin and More- As written and loved by Lyrieux

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[captianimarum]

@madcg asked: i've hit people for less. / for poor higashi 😭 skskdhjhg <33

"You know--- that don't even surprise me." Just wait until Kaito heard about this- accidentally getting himself drawn into a fucking tiff that ended with him going toe to toe with the mad dog himself. Even pushing sixty, the fella packed a hell of a punch and Higashi was sure that he'd had more than a few vertebrae realigned. And cartilage popped. And probably something broken, he's not gonna lie. "The fuck you hit me for, anyway-? I was tryna help."

[captianimarum]

@axgmented asked: “Ain’t you a sight fa’ sore eyes..” mumbled around a straw in her drink, eyeing Leslie

"Your eyes must be pretty sore if I'm the one makin'' 'em feel better." Leslie eyes company briefly before sitting himself down 'pon a bar stood aside her; he doesn't order a drink, just sits there. "Any reason for the sore eyes?"

[sacredflorist]

It feels good to see Leslie again and to be able to spend time with him, to have him as an ally again. Aerith has felt some kind of special affection toward him right away. Because he quickly helped her and Tifa, but also because of the way he was speaking about his fiancée. She really hopes they will reunite, find each other again. That's what Leslie deserves. He has worked so hard since he lost her...

"Well, that's a good start." She lets a soft chuckle escape her mouth, offering a smile. She frowns a bit when he puts himself between the guy and her. She moves a tiny bit on the side, to make sure he could see her. "Listen, Mister... We heard about your work as an historian, so we were quite curious to ask a few questions, if you don't mind." She's smiling politely, patiently waiting. Hopefully he'll answer properly.

[captianimarum]

Leslie decides that it is, perhaps, better that he keep himself quiet and let Aerith handle the words and he would simply linger there to pose as a deterrent to anyone nearby and mayhap the drunkard himself if needs be.

"Questions about what-?"The historian's eyes flick briefly betwixt Aerith and Leslie, deciding he was going to simply comply so he could be left to his persistent drinking sooner.

[brokenmagxc]

he steps into the princeling's shadow, not more than a pale shade beneath cape and wing. dark tunic swallows the bruise of him, brunette hair matted to forehead in thin but dense waves, eyes cast down then to the side, watching others scurry across the fields. men gather in report, clean weapons, fix armor, tend to wounded. the smell of blood and death is dampened by smoke and warmth. the sky pulls paler with time but not quite dim enough to be late. the milky blues are pinched by darker clouds on the horizon.

“ you are very generous, sir. ” arthur offers softly in response to other's penchant for choice. a strange thing—kindness, or mercy, from someone not only of rank but of power. arthur can almost taste it now, being this close ; the heaviness of aether gathered around dion like water pooling at a dip in the ground. bahamut hums under his skin with an ease that can, no doubt, only be achieved by the other's bond to the thing. and the bearer can see it with a small gleam at the eye, a gold color sweeping the browns of his iris in a muted beige. a flicker of steel and light beneath the other's breath. a curious and dangerous hum between them and it.

arthur looks away sharply, watching instead the shape of the sky as the time settles. voices murmur past. his gait doesn't falter. when dion slows, arthur follows. when the man stops, so does he. others come and go. some offer clipped updates, some merely thankful for support. most just want a word. there is something almost admirable about the consideration placed between a commander and his men like this. it was unmistakable how much dion cared. the more arthur watched in silence, the louder his discomfort got. a blaring alarm in his head. he shouldn't be here—doesn't fit into the mold. the care, when turned back, is neither deserved nor warranted.

and to think that, time ago, he would have been told to kill a man like this with no further question for it.

a frown finds his face. he was not that man anymore, but his upbringing was not something he could just run away from. it was one of the sole reasons he was even here to begin with—because war was familiar. because death was familiar. because he had spent a lifetime hiding from his own house. hiding in someone else's should have been easier.

shouldn't it ??

arthur only catches the stern look on his own face when dion turns to talk to him again over the shoulder. company, yes. he shakes his head, ridding himself of the darkening thoughts troubling him. trying to smile, the corners of his lips tremble where the expression doesn't quite land.

“ that is a shame, sir, that you are not paid the mind you are owed. ” the bearer offers with a small bow of the head. as they near the tents, he slows but a fraction, uncertain. “ i... ” am not fit for company. i do not belong here. i am not who you think i should be. arthur inhales deeply to bury his hesitance beneath a soft breath. “ ...would be honored, your highness. ”

they duck beneath the tent fabric, the outside light dimming toward a more intimate glow. the smell of old paper, smoke, and herbs greets them. arthur offers his nod to the standing guard before his eyes rest on the wooden table at the center, its dark oak draped in deep blues and whites, the crest of the empire stitched with spots of golden thread. he takes in the maps sprawled over top, annotations and markings littering the worn parchment. then he spots the kettle left at the table's edge.

one of the men around the table come to greet dion with a brief update on logistics. arthur takes the time to part and busy himself with the prospect of tea. a breath banks warm of his tongue, aether gathering with a sweetness on the tongue. heat. he warms the water discreetly and pours while filing the details of the conversation in the back of his mind.

“ your highness. ” he offers after a moment, a warmed cup passing between hands. chronic tremor runs through his fingers, rippling the liquid until it is stilled in the other's grasp. then another cup is passed to the other soldier before arthur takes his own and gestures to the seats by the table. “ sit and rest. ” he says before he can filter the directness of it. “ the war will still be here when you finish your tea. you are allowed a moment to indulge. ”

[captianimarum]

The comforting familiarity of the tent did understandably little to ease the woes and worries that had long since sank into the marrow of the Prince's bones. Maps and missives lay scattered 'pon the expanse of his desk, notes and lists with regards to supplies and death tolls more centralised while aught containing his father's seal lurked closer to the edge; a silent hierarchy of importance.

Dion eyes the expanse of paperwork as he enters, their honeyed gaze not once leaving the endlessness of it even as the male aside him recites logistics and the weight of attempting to get supplies to the edge of the battlefield without aught being intercepted by the opposition. It was a delicate balance that grew harder by the day - and one that continued to weigh down the Prince's shoulders if his current posture was anything to go by.

When silence returns, Dion becomes momentarily lost within the realms of his own thoughts - no amount of cool air seeping through the fabric of the tent could ease him from it, but the uttering of his honorific did. Brown eyes survey Arthur with no attempt at hiding fatigue or emotional difficulty, but they did drop to the offered tea. A small smile drew across his features, comfort gained from the warmth now held betwixt his hands; in truth, it didn't matter what it tasted like, the presence of it alone alongside the care it was handed off with was more than enough.

Quietly does he sit, allowing the aches and pains of the day to begin to ebb aside, besides those that never fully disappear. Bahamut was but a heavy weight to bare, after all and the affects lingered long after battle ceased.

"...Aye- the war will still be here." He murmurs, regretfully. The war bore onward, though not for without trying to end it. Odin was... simply so very much stronger than the empire in its current state and Dion could only keep him back for so long - - and much of the time, he was certain that Barnabas was just toying with him. "--much though I am loathe to admit it."

A moment to indulge in quiet and content felt bitter in the face of all that had happened of late; the war, the death toll, the lack of supplies. Dion knew that there wasn't much more he could do, but the guilt settled there nonetheless.

"I only wish it could end so that good people could return to their families. Too many lives have been lost already - and for what-?"

[elpisbloomed]

       the former dragoon's gaze is gentle as she watches him. a softness from the depths of her ever selfless heart nestled at the corners of her eyes, in the corners of her lips. if lunafreya looked long enough, she might see the gilded chains holding him to his duty, or that invisible, impossible weight he carried. if only she could share the burden, she mourned as she covers her slender frame with a plainer cloak, one she frequently used to slip through the castle walls and into the night undetected.

       she flashed him a tender smile as she slipped into the hallway, keeping her steps light as air, not daring to make another sound, as though her very breath would disrupt their escape. lunafreya had to admit, this was thrilling.

       dainty fingers curled around the sconce she knew served as a hidden mechanism. a dull clack sounded from within the wall. the lady pressed her full weight 'gainst it, creating enough of a gap to allow her and the crown prince to duck inside. the musty smell of moss upon old stone and decaying wood was all too familiar.

       ❝ good, the guards avoided this section, ❞ lunafreya whispered, the glimmer of magic at her fingertips lighting an old torch. ❝ in darkness, find light. ❞

[captianimarum]

"I feel akin to a teen again-" Dion whispered, slight smile 'pon his features as the two slipped into the musty passage - dust motes visible in the low light, the echo of footsteps dulled by the age and inactivity of their surrounds. "--similar hallways used to be used for my escape from unwanted lessons." He admitted, fondly. Always one to enjoy literature or poetry, less so any variety of mathematics.

"-You are certain you are not cold?" Dion keeps the tenderness of his voice quiet, not wishing to agitate the air around them any further than their movements already did - but as he felt a chilling draft quip around his skin did he house concern for dear company.

[pocketfulofgalaxies]

Well that's a shame. Haven was a great city, despite the ups and downs it has suffered. Especially when the Baron was in charge. And although it wasn't her true home. It was still home, to her.

"Why not both. I could totally offer to be your tour guide, and at the same time you could find something to quench your boredom." It was a win win situation if he really thought about it. And Keira was itching to show him her workshop, as well as all the things she has made.

There was plenty to do, and places to see. Just as long as you didn't peeve off the guards. "Like I said think about it, I promise you won't be disappointed."

[captianimarum]

Razer hadn't actually left Kras City in a rather long while - his will to do so had waned once he had retired from racing. Maybe it would be a perfect excuse to travel - to see Haven for the first time since he had raced through its streets during the championships some years prior; as a tourist as opposed to working, to a degree.

It was a remarkably tempting offer, in truth. Kiera hit the nail on the head with regards to Razer's absolute boredom of late, and a new place to look around would keep him briefly occupied.

"...then, once you're settled with your work here, perhaps we could take a business trip to Haven." If he called it that, they could put the expenses on the Garage as opposed to paying for such personally. "That is- if you'd trust me to drive us there."

[mcflymemes]

"STOP PUTTING YOURSELF INTO DANGER!" PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue for expressing your fear that the person you care about might get themselves hurt if they keep acting like this, adjust as necessary

i thought i told you to stay back.

i love you too much to let you get hurt like this.

this affects me, too, you know.

every time you leave, i sit up all night waiting, praying you'll come back alive.

you keep pulling stunts like this and something bad will happen.

do you have a death wish or something?

this isn't fair to me.

i deserve better than this.

i didn't get any sleep last night because i was so worried about you.

you promised me you'd stop going out at night.

i don't like hearing this.

you've been risking your life, and for what? so you can feel like a goddamn hero?

i said i would handle it.

what the fuck are you doing here?

you told me you'd stay put.

so much for laying low.

you remember how bad it was last time.

seems like you haven't learned anything.

i believe you promised me you'd lay low.

i can't keep doing this.

don't give me that look.

we'll discuss this later.

this stops now.

i'm tired of picking up the pieces once you've left.

you keep throwing yourself into danger.

you don't give a shit about yourself, do you?

i'm sitting here, worried out of my mind, while you're out doing god knows what.

that was really stupid of you, and you know it.

i thought you knew better than this.

what's your excuse this time?

you do realize what this does to me, right? seeing you get hurt like this? you know it hurts me, too?

you really don't give a shit how this affects me, huh.

that was the dumbest possible thing you could have done.

i need you to stop throwing yourself into harm's way.

that was completely unnecessary.

they had it handled.

you didn't need to step in like that.

why do you think you're invincible?

the last time you pulled a stunt like this, it nearly got you killed.

i can't just sit here and watch you get hurt.

what are you trying to prove?

you just like fucking with my heart, don't you.

this shit hurts me, too, you know.

you're not the only one affected by this shit.

you've got a lot of people counting on you to come home every night.

what happens if you don't come back?

you think we can just carry on without you?

you think i can handle things if you end up dead?

i'm not sticking around to watch you get hurt.

you're not even slick.

you think you're invincible, don't you.

quit pretending you've got everything under control.

let someone else do it for a change.

you can't keep putting yourself through shit like this and expect me to just sit back and watch.

i'm done with this.

next time you do this, i'm not coming back.

promise me this is the end.

look me in the eyes and tell me you'll stop doing this.

let the authorities deal with it.

you're making a big mistake.

is it worth dying for?

i've dealt with enough pain over the years.

[recordmemes]

༘⋆｡ stirring the pot starters

a mix of arguments, tension, manipulation, gossiping, fighting, & general emotional messiness!

you  weren't  supposed  to  hear  that.

don't  look  at  me  like  i'm  the  only  one  lying.

want  to  tell  them,  or  should  i?

you  think  i  don't  know  what  you  did?

i've  hit  people  for  less.

oh,  i  thought  you  already  knew.

that's  funny,  you  didn't  say  that  last  night.

say  that  again.  i  dare  you.

you  wanna  talk  about  loyalty?

no  offense,  but  if  you're  the  last  to  know,  that's  on  you.

go  ahead  -  pretend  like  it  wasn't  your  idea!

they  deserve  to  know  the  truth.

you  didn't  hear  this  from  me,  but  -

oh,  so  now  you  care?

don't  flatter  yourself.  you  were  just  convenient.

you  crossed  a  line.

we  had  bets  on  how  long  it  would  last.

it's  not  even  a  secret  anymore.

you  don't  get  to  cry  about  it  now.

touch  me  again  and  see  what  happens.

say  it  again.  louder  this  time.

you  really  thought  nobody  would  find  out?

don't  act  so  innocent.

okay,  but  am  i  the  villain  for  laughing?

tell  me  who  else  knows.  right  now.

this  whole  time,  and  you  didn't  say  a  word?

don't  act  brave  now.

you're  really  gonna  do  this  here?

it  wasn't  supposed  to  get  this  far!

you  can't  rewrite  history.

oh,  i'd  never  say  it  to  their  faces.

it  was  supposed  to  stay  between  us.

we're  all  thinking  it,  i  just  said  it.

you're  not  as  untouchable  as  you  act.

do  you  even  feel  guilty?

they  warned  me  about  you.

go  ahead,  make  it  worse.

if  you  repeat  this,  i'll  deny  everything.

the  next  thing  out  of  your  mouth  better  be  an  apology.

you're  about  three  seconds  away  from  regretting  this.

you  keep  pushing,  and  i'll  push  you  back.

they're  going  to  find  out.

one  more  lie,  and  i  walk.

they're  lying  to  you.

you  need  to  back  off.  now.

you're  defending  them?  after  everything?

don't  try  to  hide  it.

tell  me,  was  i  just  a  placeholder?

you  really  think  sorry  fixes  this?

there's  nothing  left  to  say.

don't  act  like  you're  the  one  hurting.

i  don't  owe  you  any  explanation.

whatever  helps  you  sleep  at  night.

you  should've  seen  this  coming.

i  hope  it  was  worth  it.

i  told  the  truth.  just  not  all  of  it.

you'll  miss  me  before  i  miss  you.

smile.  you're  ruining  the  mood.

i'd  watch  that  tone  if  i  were  you.

it's  not  my  fault  you  believed  me.

you  have  such  a  talent  for  pretending  you're  innocent.

we  both  know  this  is  over.

i  never  said  i  was  a  good  person.

i  thought  you  were  different.

[flamesofrebirths]

Joshua has wanted to be free for so long. He felt like all those years with the Undying took a lot from him and from his agency. He never truly was free. It felt better when he started traveling because at least he could see the world around him, but that's pretty much it. As long as he was away from people who genuinely care about Joshua Rosfield and not about the Phoenix, i felt like he was wasting his life. And now that he can finally be with the people he loves, his people, he plans to survive that final battle against Ultima, no matter how hard it might be.

He nods at Dion's words before he shrugs. "I... I understand what you mean. I suppose I agree in some ways. We will unfortunately have to see what happens." And life has never been that good to him, so maybe Joshua shouldn't want be optimistic. But he wants to believe they will all survive, even if it may seem childish. "I still think we deserve to live, so I hope we will. I want to help with the rebuilding... I think this is what my father would have wanted, too. And probably Cid, too, even if I nevet had the chance to meet him."

[captianimarum]

Carrying an eikon beneath ones breast did not guarantee success - Dion had learned that lesson time and time again against Odin. They clashes had been spectacular, but a drain; whatever was to come against Ultima, Dion anticipated it would be unlike aught else, and worried... if his strength waned, it would set them further from the fragility of success.

Perhaps, in some darkly occupied space within him, there was a part of Dion that didn't want to be around to see the aftermath. The entirety of the continent would need rebuilding on one way or another and the task was most certainly enormous. The people would be scarred, frightened, scared - needing adjustment to a new era without the mother-crystals. Rebuilding physically would take time, resources - bonds betwixt nations would need to be stronger than ever if their survival was to be ensured. It would be a delicate balancing act and he was not certain he had the strength to see it through.

But that was a notion best kept to himself; something to worry about if survival was given by fate.

"Regardless... I hope any future efforts find more ease than we do in these moments." Quietude felt as if it festered beneath skin, poisoned consciousness; chatter, somehow, made it all seem rather more manageable.

"Yourself and your brother - - would rebuild Rosaria, I assume?"

[pocketfulofgalaxies]

What had started out as such a terrible morning, and being irritable had all but disappeared. As soon as the door was opened to the large workshop, Keira didn't hesitate for a single moment to enter. She loved it. Absolutely loved it here already.

"Now that is very helpful. I mean sure, normally after a race it would be easier to just drive into a garage. Though this does make it so much more easier." Keira wondered if maybe she could do this back in Haven. It would make a sweet upgrade to her workshop there. Or maybe not, it was something to look into and that she would keep in mind.

Once she got to completely look around at the new digs, Keira turned back towards Razer. "Thanks, i'll keep that noted. I'm eager to get to work on something already. Also. Maybe you should come to Haven City, besides zoomers and racers. I work on other things too."

[captianimarum]

"Can't say I've ever really been to Haven." Close by, sure - shady business trips and the like, but Razer hadn't ever stepped foot in the city. Perhaps this new little agreement they had would entice him to go - have a look around - see what would interest him there. When he had the time free to do so.

"Is that you offering to be a tour guide? Or just a suggestion of how I could quench my boredom?" Because even he had to admit, days sometimes blended into one another and he was not always on the track, not always training new drivers - attempting to find the next talent. Sometimes, the ex-champion was bored solid of the monotony of things being repeated.

He wanted flavour, wanted spark, wanted excitement.

[sacredflorist]

Aerith can't help but chuckle a bit. A drunk. Well... if he's drunk, maybe that historian won't be that easy to trust, but she chooses to stick with what she previously said. He could still give them some clues about the location of the Temple of the Ancients. And Aerith knows they need to find it if they want to protect the Planet from Sephiroth. He will destroy it if they do nothing, and she just can't allow it.

"Well, yeah! Let's see what he has to say!" She exclaims, clapping her hands with excitement as her eyes shine with curiosity. "And let's hope he's not too drunk at the moment. Otherwise we'll have more decoding to do."

[captianimarum]

Leslie idly scratches at the back of his neck as he moves, walking alongside company back into the streets that twist and turn beneath the supposed Haven that is the Gold Saucer. The streets there aren't kind - they're desperate, and he has learned that first hand since getting there; battered and bruised as he was.

The little bar he mentioned wasn't far; a small ways in, no music - just a few loud card games upon barrel tables and one slumped historian at the bar itself;

"I've never spoken to him but he seems fine enough." At least, he had never seen him start any fights or get violent, at least - so Leslie presumed him to be approachable for conversation. Still, he puts himself between the guy and Aerith, just in case.

"Hey uh... you got a minute?" He asks as he approaches, leaning against the bar.

"What'cha want, kid-?"Aforementioned historian glances betwixt Leslie and Aerith, eyes half-glazed. He'd been drinking, but wasn't yet so deep into his cups that he was stewed.

[phantomyre]

Naturally a protector, as was his habit as a bodyguard, Vincent couldn't help but notice the boy wasn't exactly up to par when it came to these rough treks. It was clear Howl had some outstanding powers, but how useful would they be in a true battle, that had yet to be seen. Safety was always paramount. But what often took the place of it was dignity-- honoring the will of one who wanted to expend their own strength to prove themselves. Vincent could understand this quite well. Thus, when Howl was forthcoming regarding his ability to push forward, Vincent allowed Howl to proceed unaided.

It would also prove to the gunslinger if the boy could actually make it in this world. As far as he could tell, Howl didn't seem eager to return any time soon. Directing his gaze towards the mako spring, he gauged what Howl was feeling. There was a slight disturbance, but it clashed with those around him. 'I'll go ahead. Anything could be lurking around the corner." Moving forward, Vincent walked through the opening that lead to a deeper cave; the glow of mako was seeping through the area, giving off the mako green color. Soft distant echoes could be heard coming from the small spring opening as well as the faint crackles of crystal that were slowly forming over the years. Cautiously, Vincent entered the chamber.

It was a beautiful seclusion of vegetation-- complete with various flowers and shrubs. These were remnants of what beauty remained, and they seemed to thrive on the mako spring. It was like a very small secluded garden. The crystal glowed in the center, large in size as it came up to Vincent's chest. Coming up to the crystal, the mako pool rippled, reflecting his image. He looked around, content to see beasts were not present. "It's safe to enter. Is your friend close by?" @captianimarum

[captianimarum]

Howl, once it is made to be clear, follows behind Vincent with a sharp exhale and a vague squint to his eyes. That green-blue glow in the air, it almost hurt to breathe it; made his head feel fizzy, consciousness a little distant. His natural magic doesn't particularly like it's presence, but he forces himself through it, attempting to reach out with his senses.

"Calcifer?" He calls, hand rubbing at his chest, then his temple - uncertain which feels worse; the pain in his chest or the ache behind his eyes. And there's a shift, a movement - - a small, bright spark comes darting toward the two of them as if it had been summoned from the far corner and only within Howl's palm does it ignite into a bright flame; with a consciousness and eyes. Relief is palpable.

"We've been looking for you--" Howl utters down toward the flame - the beat of something engulfed in blue within clear in his palm. Once more does he feel whole after getting parted by the weave of the fabric of time, the undulations of reality - stretching and flexing as it so did.

"I can't believe you took so long-" Calcifer spoke, crackling. "Who's your friend-?" Curious to a fault, as ever.

"Vincent here has... graciously kept me alive." He eyes company with no less than a rather fond smile. "And has aided in your discovery - so do try and be a smite more grateful, Calcifer."

[brokenmagxc]

arthur watches him move. it is not intentional at first—just the natural pull of the eye toward motion—but something about the way howl rises from his chair and brushes that pale hair from his shoulder catches his attention more thoroughly than he expects. the small chime of earrings, the soft rustle of cloth, the quiet confidence in the other man's posture. it all settles strangely against the quiet tension that had brought arthur to the doorway in the first place.

howl. the name lands softly in his mind.

arthur inclines his head slightly in acknowledgement, though his gaze lingers perhaps a moment too long before he remembers himself. his hands twitch at his sides, eyes glancing away in sudden self-consciousness. “ arthur, ” he offers back, voice low and careful. it is the same name he has given a hundred strangers before—yet here it feels oddly heavier, as though the room itself was listening for it.

when the plush chair is gestured toward him, he hesitates again. then, with a slow exhale, he crosses the small distance and sits. the seat sinks pleasantly beneath his weight. the warmth of the room pressed around him—herbal scents, the quiet comfort of stacked books, the soft clink of porcelain as howl pours tea. it feels... disarming. too serene for the storm that had driven him here.

arthur leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, and takes in a deep breath. his fingers lace together loosely, though the faint tremor in his hands betrays a tension he has not quite mastered. his eyes drift across the room briefly before returning to howl.

“ no, thank you. ” arthur says quietly. the gold that had dusted the edges of his irises moments ago has faded again, though the faint brightness there remains if one looks closely enough.

“ people tend to call something a miracle when they don't understand it yet. ” he says after a moment. his gaze drops briefly to the cup of tea already poured. “ is there something else you would call it instead ?? ”

he waits a moment. his eyes linger at howl's hands, catching across the knuckles, then slowly finding their way back to the man's face. “ i... ” he pauses, swallowing. something shutters behind his expression—hesitance, reluctance, the fear of being disappointed. then he exhales silently and continues, eyes falling closed, the color in them flickering before being hidden behind the lashes.

“ i don't know, really, what i'm doing here. ” arthur admits. his voice is soft, though each word struggles out of him, as if it were stuck at the throat before he forced it out. “ i guess i thought a miracle worker could help me figure out whether or not i'm... a miracle, or not. ”

he presses his lips together. when his eyes open again, that sliver of gold expands around his pupil, eating at the soil like a flame to wood. “ have you ever seen something in a person that... shouldn't be there ?? ”

[captianimarum]

"You aren't wrong." Miracles, magic - could be anything unexpected and unknown; they were words so quick to be used when misunderstanding or lack of facts presented themselves. Howl couldn't blame people for pinning those labels to him, to what he did - - it was a dream, in many ways; impossible. And impossibility begged the name of magic. Of miracle. "I'd call it truth- but I can see why it would be called a miracle. Or a blessing. Magic--"

Howl moves with practiced ease, sits himself back down onto the seat he had occupied before new company had entered - but this time he has his tea, and a long finger of the opposing hand flicks the page of his large tome over. Quiet and comfortable - - 't is clear Howl minds not the company, in fact he welcomes it.

"You, yourself?" Howl ponders aloud, turning the crystal blue of his gaze over toward his company with a quipped brow - the glisten of those eyes perhaps suggesting he could see far more than the physical.

"Something... inside? Such as?" Howl leaned back into his seat, poised a fist beneath his chin as he leaned, idly, against the table - - now ignoring the book."I've seen people with extra souls, before... with trapped spirits--"

"What makes you think you have something of the sort?" Because that was an important detail - what made one feel different, feel wrong, feel... strange? That feeling, explained, could reveal much.

[infinitexmuses-arch]

Nico had long known that Nero was far from the most... Creative person. When needing to improvise in combat, it was usually with brute force, and not a single shred of interesting footwork to be had! Anything akin to the arts or something that required mindwork wasn't his forte, so she never expected him to understand anything she was talking about when it came to her work. But the fact that he even tried to think about it from her point of view was more than enough for her, personally.

Perhaps it explained her lack of excitement each time he returned empty-handed. It helped keep her from having to rummage around in rubble like this for stuff, too, if he found it beforehand himself. Less hard work and more fun for her to be had when he brings something great back.

Seeing the way he suddenly seemed to gain a new sense was amusing to the woman, as she watched him practically disappear in record time. "What'cha lookin' for there?" She had called out, though she assumed that there was little point in doing so. Instinctively, she went to follow him, hands going on her hips as she waited for him. If he was that certain to go into god knows where, then she was certain he'd be back with something. Perhaps even something that could be the basis for her next project.

Finally, she heard the young man speak up, making a grin form on her face. "I'm right here. Just toss the damn thing, and get outta there before you get crushed like an orange for some orange juice!" A joke, clearly, but she could totally imagine it coming down any moment on top of the guy.

[captianimarum]

"Alright, alright--- damn." Nero's voice was accompanied by a short laugh, his hand reaching forth to grasp at the... limb, or whatever it was and - as requested, just tosses it out of the hole and toward the voice of his companion. Where it lands, he doesn't know, but he doesn't linger too long in between those concrete fractures and twisted iron - no, he lifts himself out and sits there for a moment, legs dangling from the edge.

"That thing--- fuckin' stinks." He points at whatever it was, gives a lithe grimace but cannot help but wonder if it was of any use - the weird feeling he got from it had lessened now that he wasn't so close but it almost echoed within his blood. He didn't like it, but it didn't matter if he liked it - - it mattered if Nico liked it.

He swings his legs, lets himself drop down from the height and pace over to where the bloody things rests upon the ground, eyeing it closely.

"Whatever it came off, it ain't here now-- no corpse under there."

[captianimarum]

OOC: All replies are queued, my wuvs <3

[soulsalight]

"Beings of great power." The king answers, eyes still roaming over old runes, their pronunciations echoing through his mind, muffled by time, and yet ever clearer the longer he traces the carvings in the stone. Translating them for the prince comes surprisingly easy, even after all this time. The runes being displayed here is rather cryptic in its meaning, but as he walks along the mural, taking in more symbols used to indicate the elements, something slowly begins dawning on him. "Fire," he says, touching a finger against the rune. "Ice." He points out to the prince as he moves along, moving his hand along the stone. "...water, earth, wind, lightning." He pauses, hovering fingers in an uncharacteristic display of hesitancy over the next rune before he catches himself. "Light." He points out as he moves on, foregoing touching it entirely, and then: "Darkness." The stone of the rune crumbles under his fingertips, brittle with age, a wry smile tugs lightly at his lips. How very fitting.

He trusts he doesn't have to explain what these beings of great power may be now that the prince knows that the descriptor is accompanied by the elements. The term of Dominant was coined far later than the time these ruins became what they are now, and yet it seems they served a purpose tied to them. He reaches the ragged edges of a rune that has him pause again, the one that made him reach the previous conclusion of this being a site of death.

"The end." He says gravely. "Sometimes interpreted as destruction." He looks up, the mural turns to a scenery of clouds, a sky wide and vast. For some reason Barnabas' chest tightens at the sight of the runes carved beneath it. "Freedom." He says. "Rebirth."

Much like the one before, he doesn't dare touch these. He doesn't shrink away from them either, but he lets his hand sink to his side and takes a step back. Inexplicably, his mind feels a lot clearer now that he has accessed this ancient part of himself. He shakes the feeling and turns back to the prince. His expression darkens, the previous wonder and nostalgia at remembering childhood lessons with a clarity he didn't know he still possessed fading back to obscurity.

"It's a trap." He says. "Ancient sorcery. A way of freeing a mighty mortal vessel of their equally mighty spirit." Barnabas fixes the prince with an intense look in his eyes as he watches realization slowly dawn on his companion. "And what mightier being than a Dominant?" He asks. "What mightier vessel to be freed of its spirit so it can move on and be reborn into a weaker, younger, more moldable one?"

His tone is even and low as it tends to be, but there is a certain fire to his eyes that wasn't there before. The realization that this place is a failsafe used as a matter of disposing unwanted, unruly, Dominants to have them be replaced when the next malleable one awakens... The king hasn't been disrespected like this in half a millennium, and least of all been nigh powerless in light of it. Even just speaking it aloud makes a sudden anger grip him tight. An anger he hasn't felt in far too long, sharp and hot, unlike himself, unlike anything he has known himself to be for decades.

It's almost freeing in a sense.

[captianimarum]

Beings of great power. It wouldn’t take a scholar of exceptional renown to conclude what those beings were – Dion jumped to half of a conclusion within but only a few heartbeats but he kept his mouth shut and his ears listening for a short while longer. While weapons were lost and exhaustion rife, it was best to take advantage of shared information while it was lay bare – and since the young prince was largely clueless, he had to take trust in Barnabas’ knowledge of what stood before them now. The lack of touch to the rune noting light was not lost upon Dion, either – but he commented not. Instead, he slowly treads his boots across the same pathway his company had taken and instead observes it all for himself; the intricacies, the age – and the conclusion forming only furthered the sickening twist in his stomach and the discomfort he could feel nigh radiating from the trace elements of Bahamut he could yet feel, buried somewhere under the weight of that place. “So, we stand among our potential doom?” Dion queries, though it poses as largely rhetorical. He wonders how the building works, if it is an all-encompassing thing or if there comes a specific chamber that shall slaughter them like vermin and release the power that has long settled within? They both yet stand, for good or otherwise, and thus he can only assume that the dangers that may target them are elsewhere, aside from the oppression that cuts them off from reaching their eikons. Where, neither of them knew – and that was, in part, the problem. In seeking an exit, they may just inadvertently find their end.

Dion stands, his eyes fixated ‘pon the runes for a long moment; he knows it will reveal no such information to him, will not guide him willingly back to the light of day but it gives him a focus, for now, while thoughts ran wild and conclusions were drawn. To be killed now would matter little to him as a being – but it would matter greatly to the war, to Sanbreque, to the madness that was beginning to take ahold of Valisthea. He couldn’t fall now for there was yet too much to do. Too much to face, to fight for.

"How...comforting." If the curse didn't eat him away first, that place may have come as a comfort, something to keep in mind if weakness grew too great. But -- it ought not have been found. Accidental though it was, somewhere like that ought to remain buried - but now, both himself and Barnabas knew of it, and the implications were as of yet unknown. Could it be used by force? He assumed so.

"I do suppose we shall have to be more careful, lest we find ourselves obliterated. I'm assuming whatever was used is still functional to some extent." Given how he couldn't hear Bahamut. "Quite to what degree, I would rather not discover. I'm sure you are of the same mind-?"

Dion's eyes turned down the hallway, into the darkness - knowing it was but their only way forwards and wonders if there are others down there, such as themselves. Trapped, caught, forgotten - or if they tread halls long abandoned. Why-? Why was it buried? Forgotten? And by whom?

"I wonder... if places akin to this were common - or if this was a singular instance." It keeps his mind busy, thinking, regardless of the answer.