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[i]Arc II - Day 1 - 1:23AM[/i]
[sup]A [@yoshua171] and [@Tuujaimaa] Collab[/sup][/center][hr]
[color=#00694D][b]“Two hundred twenty five thousand beakers of beer on the wall!”[/b][/color] A man’s voice sang with a trill as he stood in the center of his lab and let his hands dance through the air like some maniac conductor. Throughout the room vis danced through the air and so too did a vast number of implements fly about. A number of them would--on occasion--form into small golems to carry out a task or two before falling apart once more. On the floor a number of what appeared to be gremlin and imp-like creatures frolicked about while equally small fae entities flitted on gossamer wings, cowering away from the man.

However, the harmony of his work found itself disrupted as a powerful draw of vis tugged at something outside of his lab. After all, nothing--absolutely nothing--could touch the vis inside his lab. It was--simply put--warded too well for all that. Not to mention all the space-time fuckery. It’d taken [i]such[/i] a long time to stop it from destabilizing and ruining all of his wonderful shelves.

Oh those first dozen shelves had been special. How he missed them.

What was he on about? Ah, yes, the vis. Walking from the center of his room he almost trampled several small licenti workers as he made his way to a panel of what appeared to be prismatic glass. Pressing a finger to the very top edge of the surface, he drew it down and then focused vis into the substance. Swiftly, sigils lit up over the surface, casting rays of light deeper into the material.

After a brief liaison with his reflection, the substance bent inwards on itself and then there was a distortion of the material and everything around it. Looking at the distortion would, for someone normal--nay, almost anyone--be quite disorienting, perhaps even to the point of retching. However, Reates walked forwards and stepped through it as if it were a door...

… because it was a [i]door[/i]. [sub][sub][sup]obviously.[/sup][/sub][/sub] [color=#00694D][b]”I really ought to fix the illusion on that, it’s gotten quite out of hand,”[/b][/color] he mused to himself as he exited the portal where it led into the closed-off office portion of his classroom. On the wall behind him was what appeared to be a perfectly normal mirror...

... because it [i]was[/i] a perfectly normal mirror.

Reates carried on out of his office and into the classroom proper. Immediately he knew something was off. Wrong.

He fixed the position of a pink eraser on his desk and sighed with relief.

[color=#00694D][b]“Much better.”[/b][/color]

That taken care of, he turned around and began heading back into his office. All was well in the worl--....

Interrupting his thoughts, Reates detected a culmination of vis--though far off--so incomprehensible that for several seconds he forgot to breathe.

Luckily, he did not also forget to teleport onto the roof of the university. He found that he was not high up enough and so he shifted locations again, a harsh displacement of air resounding as he appeared on top of the tallest building in Ominar. A number of butterflies flitted off of his form before settling once more and disappearing as they blended in completely with his clothes.

Eyes narrowing, Reates did something that he endeavored to avoid doing outside of the safety of his lab: he removed his glasses. Green eyes taking on a far more pronounced glow, Reates gasped quietly as he saw the veritable [i]tide[/i] of vis being pulled away from Ominar and over the English Channel.

Casting his gaze out further and setting his jaw, he braced himself, for what met his gaze was something astounding. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen so much energy packed into such a small space. At least not in Medius or Torqueo. At least not by anything resembling a mortal. Not by anything resembling [i]normal[/i] and even then, for Aberrations seldom became so bloated with power.

A small frown creasing his brow as he tried to work out what was happening, Reates cast a hand out and weaved patterns with his fingers. Not a second passed before a number of spell matrices had formed and then swiftly began expanding from his hand to envelop a sphere around him. Glowing sigils manifested in the wind and then deformed and spread into more complex patterns. Two of the spheres continued to expand and as they did the mage took a deep breath and began latching onto any surrounding vis he could.

Keeping a close eye on the building pressure of the frenetic vis, even despite the fact that it was tens of [i]miles[/i] away, Reates constructed a barrier and then, subsequently created another, which he moved into a phase state. Rapidly calculating the distance he sent it to ZUMA and had it tap into a number of the magic batteries of the university, drawing from the crystals to bolster it and allow the mage to expand it to full size. The final set of matrices expanded, his fingers weaving in intricate patterns to arrange and control the numerous matrices he now held.

Once the two barriers were stable and no longer required a steady flow of vis to remain as such, the mage tapped into the other two pieces of spellwork and let them filter some of the stimuli from his perception for him. Several minutes passed.

[color=#00694D][b]“Bloody Hell,”[/b][/color] he exclaimed.

Seconds after he could see nothing but white as the entire horizon was set aflame, white light pouring from a source very few could see at all. Reates, only able to keep his wits about him due to the spells he’d arranged, swallowed hard and mentally reached out for his shields. Immediately he pumped 1/10th of his vis into each and then held fast.

He’d done the calculations and could literally [i]see[/i] the air being displaced by the explosion of vis as it crossed the Channel.

Finally giving in, Reates let a smile cross his lips as the force hit the coast. He heard glass shatter and reacted fast enough to shield himself from the sound as well.

He began laughing as the force washed over his shield and then--moments later--the shield over ZUMA. The sheer amount of vis carried by the shockwave alone would recharge his crystals, feed Abstractis, and was suffusing his body with an intense warmth, much like a good brandy.

Taking advantage of the vis washing over the city another twelve matrices sprung out from his body. Sigils manifested in the air in diagrams constricting air into specific patterns. The vis began flowing into the sigil matrices and as they did he let his right hand grip Lyura’s Star. A slight distortion in the air in the very center of each sigil enclosure formed. He guided the vis through the tiny apertures and into the massive sets of magical batteries he’d hidden about the school grounds--not to mention beneath his classroom and in his lab proper.

As they did so he let both shields go--they were no longer necessary--and snapped his fingers. A cellphone appeared in his hands, Nabri’s number already dialed. Ah, speed dial was a wonderful thing--though perhaps not so wonderful as all those poor ruined desks. No, not desks. They’d been shelves? Yes, shelves, definitely.

The phone was still ringing. However, right before it picked up he hung up and flared his vis in a literal spire upwards from his position on the roof of the huge skyscraper. It lasted for a fleeting five seconds before disappearing entirely. He waited a three count.

[color=#00694D][b]“One...two…”[/b][/color][hr]
[color=#4a85e2]The night was young for Nabriales Taeryn. He'd held a little gathering at one of his various residences, inviting anyone that he deemed particularly noteworthy or attractive, and as was typically the case with his parties in private places it quickly turned from an intimate gathering to an outright orgy. Precursor Descendants were known for their legendary beauty--they were almost akin to gods and goddesses in the flesh, the purest expression of divinity that the human form could possibly capture. The ugliest and most foul of the Precursors was still leagues ahead of the most beautiful human in the universe. Nabriales, growing up exclusively among his kind, had never appreciated that aspect of his heritage until he had been introduced to his wayward kin. It wasn't that they were ugly--far from it--but they simply lacked something that he had always taken for granted. There was no longer that [i]spark[/i] of otherworldly mystique, that sensation of awe and bliss building up in the chest, like when viewing a perfect natural vista for the first time.

Indeed, Nabriales had never really gotten to have that experience among his peers either--for he was quite considerably the most beautiful among the Precursor Descendants he'd met. Most normal humans could fall head-over-heels in love with him at the merest glance. Those who could be sexually attracted to him were--almost without fail--and even those who could not took the time to reconsider their stance. He had only further enhanced his natural beauty over the years with various potions and applications of magic, understanding that the allure he could command was just as potent a tool as any knife in the shadows or scandalous secret. It had, truth be told, been key to his arrival at the illustrious position that he found himself in within Ominar. All of the partygoers fawned over him like lovesick puppies (though with considerably more wits and propriety), and through his expensive alcohol and peerless alchemy he helped redirect that lust and awe into the throng of revelers. 

He made no effort to either include or exclude any particular race at his little gatherings. Licentia, Prae, Humans--all welcome, if they had the temperament and the interest. The rich mingled with the poor, from businessmen who had visited his store to get that competitive edge to the delivery boys who wanted to charm extra money from their clients. Prostitutes and Lords writhed together across the polished marble flooring, the status of their birth and occupation forgotten--the sexual energy in the room removing from them their petty preconceptions and inhibitions. The focus required to adequately please even a single lover was intense, but to direct an entire crowd in the correct way was downright [i]consuming[/i]. So engrossed in his actions was he that Nabriales failed to notice the event about to unfold outside of his little sanctuary. It was only when the intoxicating effects of his potions waned--first for the Prae, then the Licentia, and finally the Humans--that his focus broke and he looked outside of the window to see what was happening.

The immensity of the vis being pulled from Ominar across the ocean was... Legendary. He had never encountered such a feat before, and as he looked more closely to vaguely begin to attempt to discern its purpose he realised that he didn't particularly need to know anything about its purpose--whatever it was, it was bad. He quickly called the room to attention, offering them more potions, and attempted to teleport himself to the top of the building to get a better look. He was met with disappointment as his spell failed, having not provided a sufficient amount of vis, and composed himself briefly before giving it the extra kick it needed in order for him to successfully move him through space to the roof. Though his Sight was not exactly [i]phenomenal[/i], he could see clearly enough that the magic being intoned was phenomenally destructive in nature, and also that it was dangerously close to completion. He scrambled to activate the magical wards engraved into the walls of the penthouse below him, enough to ensure that it wouldn't feel any of the blast, before drawing a more complex spell matrix in the air to activate Victorious Secret's natural defences. Even in the presence of the ambient vis being drawn away, the rune was easy to conjure after he had adjusted for the extra vis required--and he could see from the top of the building that the defences had activated.

Then, everything was a blinding flash of white. Despite the fact that looking directly at the blast would have surely temporarily blinded the average human, the vis within Nabri's eyes was enough to shield him from any damage--though the fact that he could see the vis made it even more disorienting than it would ordinarily have been. He felt the pulse of energy ripple through the air before he felt any of the force of the incoming explosion, and scrambled to summon a lime green bottle of potion to his hand and chug it as quickly as he could before the force proper blew past him. Thanks to the instantaneous effects of the potion his balance was completely unaffected, but he very viscerally felt the force and the heat wash over him and remarked that with the potion it felt eerily similar to some combination of extreme sport and being in a sauna. He used his newfound stability to stabilise a decent chunk of the vis-infused explosion and begun the complex process of crystallising it, manoeuvring it into an orderly fashion so that he could ensure it was adequately studied. He was very skilled with the creation of vis crystals (though, shamefully, not even beginning to encroach upon the skill of his sister), but he found the process in this particular instance remarkably taxing--it was like working with molten glass, burning to the touch and suffused with a rage the likes of which he'd only ever had cause to [i]imagine[/i]. As he completed the process, he took a deep breath in and admired the small white crystal that he'd created. 

In that moment, he [i]felt[/i] deep in his soul that his phone was ringing. Despite being as naked as the day he was born, and his phone being nowhere in sight, he [i]knew[/i] it was ringing--and he knew [i]exactly[/i] who was calling him. Indeed, as a trail of vis surged into the sky from one of the skyscrapers in the city his suspicions were confirmed, and he waited for a count of two before teleporting directly to its location.[/color][hr]
[color=#00694D][b]“...thr--....”[/b][/color]
[color=#F43EF7]"--ee!"[/color]

[color=#4a85e2]He chimed in, chipper as ever, as he appeared exactly on cue. He wouldn't have called it a [i]ritual[/i] per se between him and Reates, but there was always an odd sort of synchronicity between them whenever they managed to get together. Of course, it was normally in far less foreboding circumstances than these, but there was always something odd happening when they had cause to meet--that was simply the way of things, for them.

[color=#F43EF7]"So... What the [i]fuck[/i] was that?"[/color] he asked, pointing into the distance where the explosion had begun. He figured that if either of them were more equipped to answer that question it would be Reates. Then, he immediately shivered, remembering that it was fairly cold and he was butt naked. With a thoughtful nod, he summoned a potion that looked almost like bottled fire and drunk half of it, his skin lighting up a rosy red as warmth flooded his body. Then, he offered the vial to Reates, giving him a look that [i]very[/i] plainly said: [color=#F43EF7][i]"Yes, this is obviously the way to fix being cold when naked and outside. What else would you do?"[/i][/color][/color]

[color=#00694D][b]”Better question. [i]Why[/i] was that,”[/b][/color] he answered as if it were the most obvious thing imaginable. So obvious in fact that he didn’t even turn to look upon Nabri, his gaze still locked on the unnaturally bright night sky.

[color=#00694D][b]”From what I can tell it certainly weren’t a proper bomb. No notable aircraft on the skyline nor human make-up. Just vis, loads and loads of vis.”[/b][/color] He shook his head and closed his eyes, bringing his glasses back up to rest upon his nose and behind his ears.

He opened his eyes and took a step back onto thin air, nearly plummeting off the roof, or rather...he had stepped entirely off the roof, but magic and quick wits had saved him. [color=#00694D][b]”Ah. Well, ye’d think the more startling thing to see were the explosion, but Nabri...you’re positively glowing tonight.”[/b][/color] Reates grinned, [color=#00694D][b]”Are you tryin’ a new potion regimen?”[/b][/color]

His gaze gravitated to the potion in the Precursor’s hand and his eyes lit up--metaphorically, seeing as his eyes already glow...all the time. [i]Obviously.[/i] [color=#00694D][b]”Ah, that’d be the regimen then,”[/b][/color] he said, flicking his wrist in a practiced motion. The potion was promptly drawn across the space between them by a single thin tendril of vis attached to Reates’ wrist. As he caught the bottle and began to down the rest of its contents the vis dispersed as quickly as it had formed.

Once it was drained, Reates held it at length from his face and squinted into it as if trying to see if there were any remaining contents...despite it being clear. [color=#00694D][b]”Well, now I’m just bloody warm,”[/b][/color] he said with the briefest of mock frowns, a smile still glittering in his eyes. He tossed the vial back to Nabri and cast his gaze back at the sky. [color=#00694D][b]”Well. I know this can’t’ve been a licentia. One this powerful would’ve been in the news before, not to mention on the boards for IHO,”[/b][/color] he stated rather matter of factly.

Absently he made a petting motion on the air beside him, falling silent as he did. About thirty awkward seconds of complete silence passed before a cat made entirely of crystal hopped up onto the top of the building, walked onto an invisible platform of vis, and sat in exactly the correct position for Reates’ hand to begin petting it.

Reates continued talking, [color=#00694D][b]”Probably not a prae either, given that it looks like the explosion was centered on one o’ their embassies.”[/b][/color] He cast a sidelong glance at Nabri, [color=#00694D][b]”Any ideas? Questions? Comments? Concerns? Quaffles?”[/b][/color] He nodded to himself as if Nabri had responded and snapped his finger, conjuring his favorite brandy and--inexplicably--something from one of Nabri’s glorious shelves. He took a sip and then another.

It was good. Tad hot though. Was his mouth literally on fire? No, it was fine.

[i]Everything was fine.[/i]

[color=#4a85e2]Actually, his mouth [i]was[/i] on fire. Brandy did not interact very well with that particular potion--by coincidence or design?--and the sensation Reates was feeling was essentially acid reflux, but if he were a dragon.[/color]

Reates pondered, as he casually breathed fire from his nostrils and mouth, [i]was[/i] he a dragon?

[color=#4a85e2][color=#F43EF7][i]“No.”[/i][/color] Nabri mentally interjected, reminding him that come-to-the-lab-dressed-as-a-dragon day was [i]Wednesday[/i]. Sometimes.

[color=#F43EF7]"Mmm. I've never seen ambient vis pulled to a location on that scale or with that intensity before--[i]especially[/i] not as a method of spellcraft!"[/color] Nabri responded after mulling over Reates' comments. He held out his palm and presented the crystallised vis from the shockwave that reached Ominar, a twinkling fragment of milky opaque whiteness, interspersed with faint lines of red. Though he had made the crystal, he could not [i]really[/i] glean anything of particular value from it--such things were, regrettably, not his specialty. That was why he had Reates!

[color=#F43EF7]"... an Exeo was visiting Solhavre tonight, right? I'm sure I read that somewhere..."[/color] Nabri mused, furrowing his brow and summoning his phone--smirking as he saw the missed call from Reates--before flicking through several articles at once and finding mention of the Exeo's visit. He pointed the screen vaguely in Reates' direction while he turned towards the smoking ruins of the former city, his expression hardening in a moment of revelation.

[color=#F43EF7]"Assassination?"[/color] he offered, a tentative theory to ponder while Reates delved into the magic. He couldn't offer anything that Reates simply couldn't do better when it came to the in-depth analysis of vis usage, but his social contacts were [i]far[/i] more developed--and those were avenues that needed to be explored to piece together what had just happened. His fingers became a flurry of activity, tapping to and fro along keys, and then a quick call was made and Nabri held the phone out, pressing the speakerphone button, and waiting for a couple of seconds as the call connected and was promptly answered.

[color=#F43EF7]"Combien de morts?"[/color] [i]How many dead?[/i]
"Cent cinquante mille. Toutes les personnes." [i]150,000. Everyone.[/i]
[color=#F43EF7]"Merci."[/color] [i]My condolences.[/i]
[b]Click.[/b]

Nabri let a moment of silence hang in the air--a profound silence, shared only between the two of them, atop the skyscraper. This far up, the sound of the city below was muted--only the faint blare of sirens and the whipping of the wind reached them as the emergency authorities rushed to the outskirts of the city where the destruction was the worst. Then, a couple of vibrations in rapid succession, and Nabriales confirmed his theory of assassination with a few simple words across the screen. As he read them, he built up the magic in the tips of his fingers and the same rosy glow that flushed his cheeks spread through into his horns, angry red sparkles and crackles spilling forth from the cracks as the phone in his hands begun to melt and was set aflame. He let it drop from the edge of the building and turned back to Reates.

No words, then. He had heard the phone call. He knew what had happened.

Where they went to research the magic was up to him.[/color]

Any joy had drained from the mage’s face as the death toll was uttered over the phone. 
Reates took another swig of brandy, despite the literal fire in his mouth. He let out a long breath and it would’ve appeared a somber gesture, were he not breathing fire. Frowning, the mage snapped his fingers and the interaction ceased, returning his breath to a more mundane state.

He could feel Nabriales looking to him for a bit of direction. [color=#00694D][b]“This does not bode well,”[/b][/color] he said, the dragon gone, though there was a quiet sort of anger roiling beneath the surface. It was an emotion that even Nabri--one of the man’s closest associates and even friends--would never have seen him display in truth. [color=#00694D][b]“We’ll go to one of your labs,”[/b][/color] he said blandly, his accent less thick than usual. His characteristic mirth having dropped entirely away. His green eyes danced with fire and an aura of feral vis coruscated off of him. Stepping back onto the skyscraper, rather than hanging in thin air, Reates spared Nabri one glance and then swiped his hand across the air horizontally. There was a blinding flash of light and vis and he was gone.

They would reconvene at the lab. It appeared they had an assassin to identify.