The hydra struggled uselessly, clawing at the shimmering obsidian floor. Didn't he know that his fate couldn't be tampered with? He had never been one to be such a rebel to the inevitable, so why start now? He didn't know the sting and heat of battle like many of his allies. He intercepted information, people, and objects with his body. That was what he was good for- being Edge's personal prostitute. Charon was shit at everything else. Accepting, as he always did, what had befallen him, Charon's eyes shut. He knew December's foretelling hadn't been for naught. She was right. And they were all doomed. The humans had won, there was no longer any hope... Perhaps not for the others, but the hydra of lust held to one miniscule fragment, even as his thoughts began to fall apart. He had no reason to keep his faith to the very one that had tortured him. He had been an obedient servant and the most he had done with the other was make out and grind a few times. And yet, being one of the only that believed Edge would return, believed he would come back for them. Charon would wait as long as it took. He had all the patience of the rolling sea. --- "Stay still..." Leo murmured as Edge scratched his scalp once more. The younger boy groaned exaggeratedly. "I can't! It's sooooooo itchy!" He complained immaturely, as Charon laughed. "Is he almost done?" Slowly, the hydra of lust smirked and shook his head. "Not even close." Edge groaned once more. "But on the bright side, you look great all dressed up, crown and all!" He announced with a laugh. "I don't wear this stuff for a reason! Makes me feel trapped. I hate it." He pouted, Leo 'tsking'. "Cut it out... before I paint that face on. You're lucky..." He paused to yawn. "That I even... Mm... got up this early...." "It's evening already!" Edge yelled back exasperatedly. "Mm... I know... So early." They rolled their eyes at Leo's typical behavior. "Well take a good look, fellas, cause this is the last time ever you'll see me in this robe and crown. Ever! Augh, I hate it..." Charon did his best to stifle his laughter. --- Gritting his teeth as the white dragon somehow overcame the change in gravity, Forte would never admit he was succumbing to the enemy's abilities. Namely, the crystal blade. He felt like he had woken up Leo in the middle of his nap, been caught eating some of Blizzard's treats, and spilled a bottle of Charon's multi-century wines on Noire's favorite dress. It had happened before, and they had ground it into his mind to never do such a thing again. He felt exhausted, utterly defeated. And the other hadn't even cut him yet! Closing his eyes, he quickly recovered. "A... duel? Hmph. You, a white dragon, can never understand. So long as you don't include any allies, fair is fair. But still... I may have to use THAT to defeat you..." A sinister grin spread across his face as he quickly snapped off the buckles holding his armor up. He then slipped out if the nylon skintight suit he was wearing underneath, leaving his lower half armored but his top totally bare. Though he had quite a mouth watering physique, there was something most unusual about his appearance. He had eight mouths on his top half, not including the one on his face. He had three going diagonally like claw marks on his breast, one horizontally on his abdomen, and four in various places on his back. All of his mouths crunched mindlessly as Forte readied his swords once again. He smiled smugly. The young man hadn't used these bad boys since the war. One wrong hit, and the mouths would devour or crush the enemy's weapon. With a roar, he spread his wings wide and went in for the kill. --- Skylark's eyes began to close as well and they stung. No doubt the result of Sila's spit. He was so frustrated. Wasn't Leo his pet now? WHY DIDN'T HE LISTEN?! Scrunching up his face, e soon found it became numb and immediately he thought he was poisoned. In reality Silva had given him a dosage of chlorophyll and vitamins as well as a numbing component to shut him up. His fists curled as he settled against Leo, grey hair flying about as they sprinted with the speed of infinite watts of electricity. His hair curled but only at the ends. Idly, losing focus, he toyed with it. The wood dragoness screamed as she was taken down and her ankle was punctured. The other three sped away, never looking back. Hazel eyes met the empty purple ones and they narrowed with malice. Finally, a hydra she could fight. She was tired. Unbelievably tired, and on top of all that, was never one to fight. The forest didn't fight; it trapped. So she would trap this male. Screaming at the top of her lungs, while Beelzebub's claw was still embedded in her ankle, the wood bone of her leg began to rupture and contort in ugly, nightmarish ways he ground her teeth as it began to work its way around the hydra, ensnaring him like roots. He was a bug caught in her net. Then just being wrapped in titanuim-hard roots wasn't enough, she curled her fingers and it began to dig into his body, through his mouth, wrapping around his bones deeply but not enough to kill. With a groan of pain in forcing her bone to grow and move, Silva broke her ankle away from him, then shifted away as the wood sprouted and bright blue flowers appeared.