[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/vzxvCpR.jpg[/img] [h3][b][color=DAA520]Camelot[/color][/b][/h3][/center] [hider=1 day before the Marrywell Incursion] Feral snarls and grunts "graced" the artificial blonde's ears, as she stared dispassionately at the bog-standard Pageless currently trapped by her steel grip on its neck. It was scrabbling at her, claws glancing uselessly off her plated arms and torso. Honestly, by this point, she was almost starting to feel a little sorry for it. The knight Magical Girl had been restraining and inspecting the creature of darkness for the past thirty minutes now, and she was pretty sure it wasn't even really trying to hurt her anymore. Just loosen her grip so it could get the hell away from her. Scratching her cheek with her free hand, she was starting to feel a little awkward, especially after the last couple Pageless she had seen had walked into the back-alley she was currently occupying, taken a single, long hard look at what was occurring... and then slowly backed out like they could wisely pretend they hadn't seen anything. Which, honestly, was unusual fucking behavior, given the mad, hungry fervor she was normally used to dealing with. On the one hand, she was finally away from London, where Moonlight Tsubasa claimed she was riling them up, so Camelot supposed it tracked that any place the alien bunnygirl was not would in turn have less trouble... probably. The madness that had happened in Okinawa was honestly a point against that theory. Regardless, as a matter of principle, Camelot had, of course, refused to let any of the other Pageless escape. She only needed the one for her examinations, after all. She'd had some free time this night, stuck waiting on the final plane to London, so she'd figured she might as well make good use of it. The first order of business was doing something she was amazed that she'd never bothered to try, that being to capture and examine a Pageless... which had turned out to be surprisingly difficult. She had the oddest sensation the Pageless were actually going out of their way to [i]avoid[/i] her, which made no fucking sense! She'd never really known the Pageless to have anything truly resembling a survival instinct... outside the Apex types, but even those ones were typically more than willing to at least throw down! The fact that even their obvious fear hadn't provoked the Pageless into fusing into an Apex to have a better chance implied... That they didn't think that would even help? Geez, she was spoiled rotten for choice lately, huh? Why was it that when she actually [i]wanted[/i] to find Pageless, they decided to be little bitches about it? Was it her new ability? She'd noticed a couple times that animals would start howling, as she passed nearby on the rooftops. More often than not, they hadn't cared before, but suddenly... It seemed like the fauna was not exactly keen on meeting her. Did that apply to the Pageless too to some degree? If so, that was both gratifying and -in this case- annoying. Especially so, because she had the feeling that humans might also be feeling it to some degree if the odd looks she had occasionally received were any clue. Which, ah. [i]That[/i] was a thing, now. The burning inside her had, it turned out, actually just been the most hellish formation of a new power that she'd ever heard of. She wasn't sure if it was simply a backlash unique to the ability itself of if it was the abrupt release of her obviously backed-up Grimoire that had started such a painful upsurgence, but the results were undeniable. The flame within her now soaked into every pore like a warm blanket. She felt almost supercharged when leaving it be, but pulling it back was... possible to a degree... and also somewhat necessary. Though it brought the chill of northern night air crawling back into her system, pulling the flame back and bottling it a bit was a small price to pay to not set off every animal ever like the most annoying burglar alarms. It had also finally let her catch up to her desired prey without them slinking into the shadows long before she could reach them. Her sense for magical energies didn't fail her, and past that point, it was a simple matter to capture one of her so-called eternal enemies. And now, for the reason she had... [hr] Camelot frowned in disappointment. No matter what she tried, the Pageless seemed too feral and panicked by her presence in equal measure to coerce anything even remotely resembling a hint understanding and cooperation from the creature. Was it just too simple-minded? No, that made little sense... Or did it? Tsubasa had said that a Revision was possible through having a Pageless consume what amounted to "just the tip", but realistically, how in the ever-living fuck was she supposed to convey that to a Pageless? Never mind ensure it actually followed the script. So, was it really only something that could occur successfully by accident and fortune? No, Tsubasa had given plenty of hints that she could guide the process, but on the other hand... [i]Tsubasa[/i] could actually control and verifiably communicate with the Pageless. Camelot didn't have that luxury, and anything she tried to do in letting a Pageless so much as breath on her Grimoire wrong was risking death... or potentially much worse. But, on the [i]other[/i] other hand... how had Tsubasa become Revised to begin with? Was her change also an accident? And that was another thing. Even [i]if[/i] Camelot was able to ensure "only the tip" was taken, how would she manage to ensure what replaced it was according to her own desires and not the Pageless? No way that she could figure right now. Sighing, Camelot tightened her grip and shook her head at the sickening crack that snapped out. Dust from her crumbling foe dissolved between steel-clad fingers, as she straightened up. It simply wasn't worth the risk. The instructions she had were dangerously bare-bones, and the only way she could possibly trust attempting it alone was with far more questions answered than she currently had... one of which was just what exactly the aftermath of Tsubasa's works would have wrought by the time she caught up. Before anything else, even confronting Tsubasa again, she needed to see with her own eyes the results of her inaction. Well, okay. [i]Sure[/i], she likely wouldn't have been able to stop Tsubasa if she tried, but the fact of the matter was that she hadn't even put up a fight to begin with. And she couldn't help but feel a little guilty for that. Thankfully, there were still Pageless out there hiding from her. Surely, a bracing game of city-wide hide and seek before her next flight would keep her mind off less palatable thoughts of things she could do nothing about presently. She wondered if the local Magical Girls would appreciate the parting gift. [/hider] [hr] [hider=Aftermath of the Marrywell Incursion] London's skyline should have brought her relief from the plane's view, but instead, she couldn't help but notice the pall of darkness that had drifted hazily over the city. As the plane touched down and she stretched her senses about as far as she could manage, all she could say for sure was that the light was certainly present, but... it had a strange "taste" of [i]bitterness[/i] to it. The darkness, meanwhile, lingered unusually, not entire scattered by the light. It seemed that however things had played out, Tsubasa's scheme hadn't met entirely with failure. Because the light most certainly didn't feel victorious. It was late when she finally left the airport, and as much as she wanted to hurry, she also didn't feel like announcing her presence by transforming. It was a shame that she hadn't been able to understand Revision in a manner she'd have been satisfied utilizing before she returned. If she had, it would have been easy to claim (mostly truthfully at that), after such a lethally dangerous mission, she'd not been in a position to stop Tsubasa from doing whatever she pleased. It would have been an easy way to get in on the ground floor of Revision without overmuch scrutinization on her character... provided the Grand Minister either didn't know or didn't feel like calling her out on it. Admittedly, that was a bit of a potential hiccup. But regardless, it was too late now. She'd had her chance, and she'd made the executive decision to avoid using it. For the time being, risks of the procedure itself aside, her current state as a normal Magical Girl was far more useful to her for avoiding suspicion and interference. She had [i]time[/i]. She had [i]plenty[/i] of time to get this right, to do things carefully. As long as Tsubasa remained among the living, she had nothing but time, and only a fool would rush in. The scent of ash and brimstone met her nostrils from across a cordon of warning tape. She'd been lightly jogging in the rough direction of Marrywell Academy, luggage bag slung over one shoulder, when she'd passed through an area in easy sight of a massive fucking crater where there used to be some sort of establishment. At this point, she honestly couldn't have said what the burnt-out husk of a building used to be, but she knew some shit had clearly gone down, if the "taste" of the magic in the air was any clue. Chinami picked up her pace. [hr] As Marrywell grew closer, Chinami couldn't help but note with some unease the darkness somehow seemed thicker here, a persistent haze seeping into the once hallowed grounds. The only way that could happen though was... Passing quickly through the gates and into the halls, Chinami stretched out her senses, brow furrowing, as she parsed through the murk muddling the area. While the mere presence of so many Magical Girls seemed to be "normalizing" things to a degree, thicker "beads" of darkness yet remained, staining the area with their mere existence. If she hadn't known better, her gut instinct would have been to assume she was sensing Pageless... But actually, was that really entirely incorrect? Had Tsubasa actually managed something? The school cafeteria's tattered ruins loomed large, a long crater fissuring the floor in one area, while holes showed a night sky... This level of collateral damage... Chinami didn't want to point fingers, but... [color=DAA520]"Gosh [i]damn it[/i], Dynasty Queen."[/color] She pinched the bridge of her nose at the magical scent that was practically ground into the area, nearly as pervasive as the dregs of darkness. And now that her mind was on that track... what [i]did[/i] she want to do about the gulf that had been created between them? If Tesni had fought Tsubasa here so prominently, then she was surely galvanized by whatever suspicions she'd prior had about the rabbitgirl. Shaking her head, Chinami acknowledged that dwelling on such things was for the future her to worry about. In the meantime... she had some results to investigate. [/hider] [hr] [b][Present Day][/b] Camelot closed the door of the medical ward with an internal sigh. In the wake of what was probably going to be a new daily routine for the near future, she was transformed, of course. All the better to hone her magical senses in the presence of Moonlight Tsubasa's victims and their Revised Grimoires. While her range was decent, the darkness of Pageless always seemed to muddle things to a degree. And while she had gained valuable experience in the field of parsing the flow of that energy against enemy Pageless over the years, [i]especially[/i] the Samurai in the more immediate sense, that was no proper substitute for the finesse that could be gained from getting up close and personal. So, as she already had a reputation for keeping an eye out for Alters, it wasn't that hard to extend that habit towards the Revised. Sure, it was a little annoying for her purposes that Eins seemed ever present, but in a certain sense, it was also reassuring to know that Marrywell had staff willing to work day and night with such dedication. Admittedly, she wasn't able to do much but observe the flows of light and darkness, but even that on its own was useful in establishing pattern recognition in how Pageless energy interacted when introduced to Magical Girls and their Grimoires. In the meantime, she would chat with those that seemed lucid or otherwise conscious and try to get a sense for how the darkness was potentially influencing them. The answer seemed to be "impulsively", which tracked with what Tsubasa had claimed. Still, the very fact that many of said victims still had yet to become fully lucid -or even conscious in some cases- again from Tsubasa's actions... It more than once made her wonder if she shouldn't have tried to stop Tsubasa herself, gratitude or no. Even if Tsubasa was on to something... this wasn't the way make change happen. Forcing it... would only create spite and resentment. So, she'd done what she could, provided what little she had at her disposal to offer: a visitor and additional friendly face and the healing of her Scabbard. Admittedly, she wasn't really sure at this early stage if her Scabbard was even doing jack shit, but she'd elected to leave it with Eins whenever feasible these past few days. That is to say, all but 24/7. Camelot hadn't slept all week. The constant use of her Scabbard made sure of that. And this time, without the fire within stifling the magical artifact's effectiveness, exhaustion (at least physically) was a thing of the past. She'd made certain to make up for lost time with the homeless and patrols when she wasn't with the Revised, and with the hellish existence that had been hers not so long ago, its mere absence was enough to leave her constantly refreshed and ready for more. Which made it all the odder to be planning to engage in a "sleepover", when there was very little chance that sleep would ever find her. She hadn't actually been told where the little pow-wow was supposed to take place other than a "haunted" classroom Olivia had found, but she'd hoped to catch Bonnie as a guide for simplicity's sake. Passing by the room she shared with Bonnie, Camelot's blue eyes narrowed at the sign taped to the door, one that hadn't been there before. One armor-clad hand twitched with the urge to rip it off, a low rumble thumming in her chest in annoyance. The last thing she wanted was for this little get-together to become a free for all. That certainly wasn't what it had sounded like when it was pitched to her by the redhead, and she had tentatively accepted the invitation on such merits. But now... Who knew how long this sign had been sitting around. She glanced around. The hall was empty. [color=DAA520]"Tch',"[/color] Camelot clucked her tongue and snatched the sign off the door without further consideration. Crumpling it into a ball, she allowed the bead of fire within her to briefly bubble up her throat into her palm, reducing the yellow parchment to fine cinders in a flash of orange. Flinging her hand with a flick of displaced air, she scattered the ashes into a rapidly dispersing mist, dusting off her hands with a quick series of claps. Whatever. The "problem", such as it was, was now as solved as it could be. The damage had surely been done. Camelot could only internally lament with resignation, that all that was left was to go see how much things had devolved from the original rails. It wasn't like she needed the once-listed number anyway, she concluded, as she allowed her armor to disperse without ending her transformation as a whole, leaving behind only the more colorful white and blue of her outfit. She didn't want to recall her Scabbard, but it would have felt odd to go around in full plate to such an event as this. Just knowing that Olivia was involved was enough. The blonde beauty all but blasted her presence 24/7 in remaining transformed, to say nothing of her eldritch hubby. Tracking down the appropriate location would be as easy as paying a little better attention to her senses. So, after briefly entering her room to grab a bag of sleepover utilities, she stretched out her senses, and... What the fuck was [i]that[/i]?! [hr] [color=DAA520]"What the hell..."[/color] Camelot muttered, as she stepped through the music room doorway. It was less a question so much as an expression of thinly-veiled annoyance. After all, there certainly wasn't the quiet sleepover room she had expected within. Well, expected [i]before[/i], certainly, but the pit in her gut had grown with every step closer to the apparently monolithic construct of magical engineering. Honestly, she knew that her hopes were dashed long before she opened the door. Glancing about at those already present, Camelot blinked in surprise at the presence of Tesni, much less Silvia for that matter. She certainly wouldn't have seen either to be the sort to attend this sort of thing, but then again, she hardly knew either well on a personal level. That Olivia and Bonnie were here was no surprise, the former the guide and the latter the first she had deigned to point in the right direction. As usual, Olivia was transformed into Ethereal Rose, and Xolys... Okay, despite the oddity of the situation, a small part of Camelot couldn't help feeling a smidge of amusement at the eldritch groom dressing like a campy ghost... for some reason. Sighing, she crossed her arms lightly and ambled over to Bonnie and Ethereal Rose. [color=DAA520]"Alright, what gives?"[/color] She managed to keep her abject disappointment from leaking into her tone. Honestly, she'd actually managed to warm herself into the idea that a quiet, unexciting social outing was just the ticket to getting her mind off the latest problem for a while, but now? [color=DAA520]"I was told this was supposed to be a slumber party with a select few, not an open theme park."[/color] And [i]boy[/i] did she have questions about who was responsible for this nonsense and why. The "taste" of the magic in the air was irritatingly familiar, and the scale of the construction honestly pointed to precious few that could both do such a thing and have permission to make the effort -and such major modifications to the academy- in the first place. Striding past the chatting girls and up to the Marrywell adjacent end of the drawbridge, Camelot glanced down at the bubbling, brackish moat below with furrowed brows, keeping an ear on the conversation behind her. It honestly beggared disbelief that something of this magnitude could come into being unnoticed, but perhaps it hadn't been a solo job? And why here and now? One set of fingers tapped a meditative rhythm on her opposite elbow, as Camelot favored the castle across the moat with a quiet scoff. Marrywell... always with the grandiose displays. Was it really so much to ask for mundane simplicity for something like this, what was supposed to be relatively private fun between students?