[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ZivsXN1.png[/img][/center]
[hr][center][h3]~1510 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE[/h3][/center][hr]
A storm thundered, one unseen and unheard by the troubled populace below. Their emotions, fraught with confusion and fear, condensed upon itself, as the vestigial blood of the Holy Maiden continued its unending allure. And ghosts, fettered by regrets, egos decayed by death, drew themselves to the commotion and budding chaos.

Paris, the City of Flowers, was a peaceful city by the metrics of big cities like this.

And thus, the [i]pull[/i] of an emergency such as this, magnified by the supernatural trait of a specific individuals, made it all the more enticing. Birds of a feather flocked together. Regrets that chained one to the Earthly plane came not from a peaceful death, a fulfilling life. The dead swirled above the crowds, a thundercloud in and of itself.

Through human emotion, twisting.

Through human presumptions, contorting.

Burst out of their phantasmal shells, spectral facades peeling away to reveal philofantastic reconstructions of ego. Cannibalizing each other, consuming eroded desires. A jar of poisonous insects, rattling open its seal, the sheer [i]pressure[/i] of this anomalous chimera affecting the minds of the mortals down below. Inspiring darker emotions still, neighbouring buildings rumbling, cracking, at the genesis of this wisp.

A negative feedback loop, spiralling downwards beyond the realm of the dead, to touch at…

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYVRPyzqEkI][b]H̵̱̓O̵̜͌́L̸̮̀Ÿ̵͉̘́͘ Ḧ̸͉̳̞̖́̅́͛Ǫ̵̣̼̞̞̪͛͒L̷̝̻͍̀́̒̈͂̊͒̿Ỵ̵̈́͂̿̈͊̑̚͝H̴̼͙͑O̶̡̧̡̥͓͛̈́̑̀̍̚͘͝ͅĹ̶̻̪͍̝̫͉̔͊͐̓̌̑͂͝͠͝Ẏ̶̢̱͔̇͆̒̅͐̈́̄͑͂̾̌̚͝Ḩ̴̨̛̗̠̺̣̠̞͇̈͌̽́̾͛͗̿͑͂̌̒͘͝͝O̷͈̣̽̒̾Ļ̴̘͙̣͓̳̻͇̣̣̗͊͊͌̋͛̓̈͗̔̎̓̈́̌͆́̎̈́͘͝Ẏ̸͖̩̹̲̭͕̩͙͍̺͙͔̝̟̮͎̟͐̋̓͋̐͑͒̿̑͆̿͝͠ͅḤ̵͉̲̫̱͚͈̠̫̳̤̱͈͘ͅͅO̴̡͙̺͔̥̮̠̩̲̹̹̘͖̅͐͐͛̐̍̆͐̍́̓͊͛͌̀̓̚̕Ḽ̶͖͚͇̙͇̖̬͕͖̊̀̈̇̈́̉͊̀̃̈͆̇͛́̐̀͒̌̍̚͜͝Ŷ̶̧̢̡̡̛̼̰̙͓̝̘̤͙͍̫̣͙͈̤̲̯̮̦̌̉͑͛͑͋́̆̈́̀͂̃̐̈́̍͘̕͘͜͝͝ͅH̴̙̥̯̲̜͔̭̼̖̋͗͊́͒̇͜͝O̵̢̧̖͕̤̖̩̜͔̜̩̲̥̤̖̥̲̘͍̬̓͑̄̉̃̎́̿̃͌͌̀̅̆̈́͘͜͠͝͝͝Ĺ̵̛͙̞̪̐̅̂̽̆̅̿͋̐̓̏̽́̀́̉͐̍͗̃̓̏̕͜͠͠Ẏ̸̹̖͉͂̒̇̾͆̈̇̑́̈́̀̇̿̆̿͠[/b][/url]

It seized Ed by the throat, silencing him with such totality that the necromancer could hardly breathe. The fluctuations of spiritual activity that he detected previously had spiked, reaching levels that he had never before bore witness to. Like a stone cratering through his stomach, like a black hole spinning through the Earth’s core.

Celeste froze too, cold sweat breaking out from an unplaced terror that she couldn’t identify, but it was the threat of the two, no, three invisible weirdos that set the monkeys off instead. Regardless of what they shouted, the mere fact that they shouted presented the sort of aggressive energy that the skeletal monkeys were trained to defend against. Leaping atop each other’s shoulders, they towered over Vera and Edward, hooting silently as they flexed their non-existent muscles in a show of dominance.

The woman, Megumi, frowned. At the half-conscious man over Vera’s shoulder, at the wildly inappropriate garb of the weirdo who called skeletons to his aid, at the whole ass sword that Vera held in her hand.

On reflection though, Emery also dabbled in making animated skeletons, and…

[b]“I think we should leave,”[/b] Celeste whispered, already clipping her seatbelt in.

That was all Megumi needed to make her decision.

[b]“Emery, go!”[/b] She snapped her fingers…or at least the best approximation of such an action when one wore gloves. [b]“Sword lady, in the back with Celeste, Skeleton kid, shotgun.”[/b]

[b]“Um,”[/b] the man behind the wheel squeaked, [b]“Monkeys, please!”[/b]

With a direct order from their father, the trio of monkeys disengaged, leaping up off each other’s shoulders before clinging onto the top of the Yaris. There were only five seats, and between Emery, Celeste, Lucian, Vera, and Edward, there was no room for Megumi.

But that was fine.

The engine rumbled, wheels burning rubber before shooting out the parking lot.

Thirty seconds later, a second, [i]louder[/i] engine echoed that refrain.

...

At the mouth of the underground parking lot, Aron and Amelia manifested, their gaze immediately drawn to the storm brewing in the distance. A storm spiritual, a storm monstrous, a storm that was an egg, gestating an anomaly manifested from siren cries and human paranoia, woven together by the unnatural constitution of a single woman.

Then, their gaze was secondarily drawn to a bright red minicar shooting up and out of the parking lot, running straight towards them! Then, straight through them, the faces of their co-workers flying right past them both in the half-second of 'contact'!

Now, what the hell was that?

Ten seconds later, an equally monstrous Honda Rebel 1100T DCT ripped out of the lot, letting out a scream akin to a banshee!

One could only hope that the reapers could catch [i]this[/i] ride.

Because if not?

It'd be a good while before either of them managed to sign up for a ride-sharing app and got a vehicle of their own.