In the seconds from the issuance of his question to the movements of the man known as Scion to leave his chair, the Dreamer was already studying the events surrounding them. A static hissing of security radios, frantic cries on a multitude of cell phones, and the uploading of thousands of photos to a host of online sites. 

The slow thrum of the Aesr roiled around Skallagrim, rushing away in a vast concentric circle, enveloping the park. This allowed the Dreamer to understand with absolute clarity what was happening in the park.  Near the lockers a young mother clutched her two small children to her, her mental facilities had shut down and all she could do was clutch them close and weep.  A young man, brawny and strong, gripped in fear pulled his girlfriend through the crowd, his bravado and swagger a disguise to mask his fear. His centric world view could not allow for beings like the Dreamer to exist, it would mean everything was a façade. 

An evangelical stood with his family around him, his battered and worn bible clutched tightly as he prayed in a warbling voice. A gathering crowd clasped hands and joined in the prayers, for surely the end of days was upon them.

An older security officer, a man a few months from retirement, shakily held his service weapon. The under powered .38 caliber revolver had seen better days, and he had little doubt the bullets would fail if he fired. Next to him a once bubbly, young women who dreamed of joining the police department, wet her pants; her mind screamed for her to run, but as long as the older man stayed, she would as well. 

In the parking lots, people in their panic smashed into other cars, even hitting fleeing pedestrians who cried in pain as the herd mentality swept through the crowd. They needed to run, needed to get away, everything else, all pretenses of civility was gone.  Those injured were ignored, save for their families, they would serve as sacrifice so that the rest may survive. 

Skallagrim saw and recorded all of that and more in the heartbeat from his question to the slow rise of the man known as Scion from his chair.

Stepping in and with a slight twist of his torso allowed Skallagrim to launch a vicious backhand to meet the rising man. The blow, fast and having Dreamers strength, would most likely hit the man on the right side of his face, along his jaw line with the kinetic impact of a ton of force.  The twisting of the torso was two-fold. The first to affect the backhanded blow, the second, allowing the left hand to draw the dagger Rhiannon from its sheath. 

The swirling darkness surrounding the dagger, lashed out at Scion, then lashed at the security offices with intent and purpose that spoke of intelligence. Perhaps there was a semblance of sentience in the blade; perhaps the beast that once possessed the tooth that formed the dagger was still alive as the dark mass of energy.  The dagger began to feed on the fledgling induction field that the first discharge of energies established.