Achronum

The Gifted - Concluded

James Kingston

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Location: The Mutant Underground (F7 -> First floor)
Skills: Accelerated Healing Factor

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James nodded at Spark Plugs’s orders, hurrying to snatch up the rope the training team had been on originally. He wrapped the rope around Vulcan’s forearms and ankles, effectively hogtying him. At least that was what James was going for. This way if the intruder used any of those dangerous hand blasts, he’d catch himself in the process. “If you want to double check my knot Moonwalker, I wouldn’t be offended. I just kinda winged it.” James admitted with a shrug, acknowledging his lack of skill in the area might prove to be a problem against a guy trying to bring down the building. He looked up from Vulcan just in time to watch Leighton freeze the support pillars, whistling in appreciation. She was really coming into her abilities, an impressive feat since she just discovered them the other day. He was going to make a comment about how cool it was but something grabbed his attention.

James’s head whipped around at Negasonic’s exclamation, ready to start fighting again until he saw two familiar faces. The dread set in immediately. Even before Sunshine spoke, Feedback’s message played in his head. It was the Morlock Tunnels. How did they even find the Morlcoks? Did someone rat them out? It wasn’t any of them. They were all tucked away in the Mutant Underground. No one had the chance to tell anyone about them. His thoughts stopped dead as Sunshine dropped a bombshell. Erg was dead and someone else was dying? Erg was definitely a hard ass and more than a little volatile but his heart was in the right place. He didn’t deserve to die in a senseless attack on his wards. James swallowed his feelings for a moment and focused on the dying person. At least they were still alive. He could fix dying. He couldn’t fix dead.

"I’m sorry, Sunshine.” James said sympathetically as he made his way over to her. “Who needs medical attention? Hopefully, I can get them at least out of danger and we can let them recover while we figure everything out.” He nodded his thanks at Blink when she pointed him downstairs. He hurried down, stone faced at the lack of activity on the second floor. When he finished with the morlock, he’d let the team upstairs know he had work to do with the others in the Underground. Too many people got hurt for him to stay upstairs on guard duty. Hopefully, it was just hurt.

As soon as he made his way onto the first floor, he spotted Jack and nearly waved in his direction until he noticed he was carrying someone. He nearly ate it when his stride faltered at the sight of Casper, limp in his brother’s arms. Shock and horror flashed across his face as he beelined to the brothers. “Oh shit, Casper is who Sunshine told us is dying?” James demanded, taking in the man’s condition. Neither of the brothers looked like they were doing too hot. And Casper was dying. James didn’t care for the stillness. Casper was animated and quirky and that suited him perfectly. Far better than being one foot in the grave at least. “Put him down gently. We don’t need him flailing around if he wakes up.” James ordered, hands on Casper in an instant. He almost retched at the faint thumping that invaded his ears, the sound of a heart struggling to survive in a broken vehicle. He’d never healed a person this close to dying and he felt himself struggling for air as his own heart rate plummeted, feeling wobbly and weak. But he would try his damndest, just to see the man smile again or there would be hell to pay.

Skill use

Take 20 with James’s healing factor on Casper

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Requiem

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Location: The Hellfire Club (D3)
Skills: Vocal Hypnosis

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Requiem sighed in relief as the ice child whisked away the flames and he immediately went to put Glimpse on the receiving end of a bullet but he froze, Emma’s voice whispering in his mind. He was getting tired of being puppeted with an ability too close to his own, even if the command was an excellent move. The absolute disrespect of being forced rather than asked grated on his nerves. There would be pay back in the future. Once all this fighting had been dealt with, he’d look for something to humiliate her with. There was always something to find and he’d plaster it everyone once he got his fingers on it. He couldn’t see the person Ms. Frost wanted handled but from the way she dropped―to no end of satisfaction on his part―he could deduce she was somewhere in the vicinity.

“Cease using your powers, invisible girl.” Requiem commanded, repeating it when he felt the first attempt slide against her mind. Invisibility was a useful trick but he wanted to be sure she didn’t have anything else nasty up her sleeve. The last thing they needed was another person bending wills in the room. He watched a boy with a candy cane come rushing by and a confused frown as he turned his gun, just waiting for this invisible girl’s powers to wear off. Once he dealt with this, he’d use the ice girl to deal with Glimpse. She’d proven rather easy to control so far.

Skill Check

Firearms skill roll to shoot Veil once her invisibility drops

Mind Control

Controlling Veil: Cease using your powers

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

James Kingston

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Location: The Palace Grounds (D5)
Skills: N/A

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"Oh, wait. Runa, that's a terr- Or not, okay." James sighed as Runa bolted towards Princess Wanda. James was far more concerned with the Hulk tossing Magneto's around like a rag doll than the Princess. Frankly, everyone should be more concerned with the Hulk. If he decided they were also a problem, then they would no longer be a problem. James saw his hand and a gross idea popped into his head. He really would rather have his hand and since he wasn't sure he would regenerate it, maybe he could get his old one working. If not, maybe he could throw it at someone as a distraction. He bolted for it and snatched it up, wrinkling his nose at the smell of gore. He pressed the hand to his wound but nothing happened. Then he dropped with a help as Max--Max if all people!--dropped out of the blue. James would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't so fucking relieved to finally see a familiar face. He hit his knees and immediately placed his hand on the leg.

"Oh thank God you're here. One familiar face at least." He forced himself to talk through the usual pounding in his ears, needing a distraction from the thoughts and memories swirling in his head. He'd only had a few moments to consider who he became in this reality but what he did see wasn't particularly pleasant and James needed to focus.

"What the fuck is going on? Is the rest of the Underground here? I'm confused as fuck and I'd like some answers after this." He took his hand away after Max's leg knotted itself back together and he sat back heavily. He nodded at Max, giving him the all clear. He just wanted to lay down somewhere and fucking relax, curl up around his boyfriend and--

"Have you seen Casper?!" James jerked forward, worry in his eyes. He grimaced as he tried to wrack his brain for the man. He remembered everything from the other world but he couldn't find a single memory with his boyfriend in it. Next thing on the list, fix that. If there was something he needed right now, it was some cuddle time with Casper. God, hopefully he wasn't getting into anything crazy. The thought made him smile fondly for a second. When wasn't Casper getting into something crazy?

"Let me get my hand back together and I'll grab my ICER. Let's see if an elephant tranquilizer can stop her for a bit." James held his stump up and focused, watching as his bones and muscles and skin all patched back together. Mostly. James fell back on his back, gasping for breath as he felt the exhaustion creep into him. Scapes and bruises and deep gashes, no problem. Regrowing bone was a damn pain.

Talrae Reborn

River finished up his business and turned to leave, a sudden exhaustion overwhelming his face. He gave Holly a weary smile and made his way back to the boat, paying for the pair of them. River was silent, clearly somewhere else as he watched the gentle waves brush against the boat and oars dip in and out of the dark water. The silence that lingered around him was comfortable and welcoming, the lack of noise and alertness that could come around in unfamiliar territory because a friend was close at hand.

The trainer led the pair back to the inn and disappeared into his room with a soft good night.

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A long winding staircase greeted Cecelia, disappearing into further gloom. Spiderwebs lined the lightless crystals that lined the wall and dust only grew thicker as the lancer ascended. Faint, faint footsteps could be noticed if one paused long enough, barely peeking through another layer of dust. It seemed to go on for sometime before another dark archway rose up in Cecelia’s sight.

Around the edge of the stone arch, someone carved the Talraean language in large swooping letters. Looking past it, a waist high stone ring dominated the room. Small holes were evenly spaced around the top of the wall even three feet. Empty bookshelves and desks were scattered around the room, some toppled over and other in pieces as if they’d exploded. The room smelled stangant and all noise was immediately muffled, even the crackling of the lancer’s torch, despite the open ceiling. A view of the star riddled night sky was only obscured by a series of metal hoops affixed near the opening.

A notification pinged on Cecelia’s map. The same writing from the doorway now marked the dark space this room should occupy but the area stayed dark despite discovering it.

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Dracion turned around at Aura’s question, giving the girl a once over. “Throwing your hat in with that bothrin, huh? Well if you really want to get roped into all that Godly nonsense, head to the backside of the market. You’ll find an old home that Cleric of Morrigan converted into a shrine. Bunch of nonsense if you ask me.”

Quest Accepted: Peace through Superior Firepower
Speak with Giddeon of the Three Fold Order.

Of Blood and Magic

Varis watched as Eris skipped off to deal with his newest mage and his new rat. Why in the world anyone wanted that around their feet. Varis would step on it the first night but Eris was always whimsical. He’d probably lose interest in it fast enough. But he would admit watching Eris weigh his options, choosing dealing with the absolute mountain of things the actor likely had piled up and him, was fun but only because Eris made the right choice.

“Very well.” Varis lead the pair of the shop. A black car pulled up in front of them and a mage stepped out, dressed in Noila colors, and held the door open for them as the slid in. “I’m ready to retire for the evening. Between the atrocity that is public transport and the idiocy of the masses, I’d rather never see this pathetic collection of buildings again. The sooner we are back at the dorms, the better.” Varis shook his head as he relaxed into the seat, leaning his head back.

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Count Julian switched to the metal rod halfway through the class, clearly displeased with Salem’s performance. The entire class was spent on the same lesson, how to properly enter the room and hold the bow until given the right to release and step out of the line of sight. Salem’s knuckles were split and long stripes of bruises painted the back of Salem’s hands. When the muted buzzer rang from his desk, Julian made Salem hold his bow for a few minutes longer as he cleaned the flecks of blood of the dark metal.

“You are dismissed. I recommend you try harder tomorrow. You may bandage your wounds but painkillers or other medical attention is not permitted.” The Count reminded him, not bothering to face the mage.

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“You direct the blame.” Hannah shrugged. “Vampire heads are a bit trick but most of them open up when you shock them. Queeny will use me to plop an idea in her head. Turn the blame on one of the Nobles. Apparently, the Queen slapped one of the newbies with an investigation so we’re going to hop on that train and see if we can thin the hounds a little.”

“You’re really just telling anyone what we’re doing?” Evalyn sighed with a shake of her head. It really didn’t matter. If the Hive wanted to do something, far be it from her to take issue. That was Rowan’s headache, not hers. “Anyways, we’re hitting up some rich brat of a mage “accessory” tycoon. Want to make a statement early in the year. If you’re with us, lets go.”

“And if you’re not-” Hannah cut off suddenly, her eyes glazing over before she blinked and her face turned sour, a bored look on her face. “We’ll drag you along kicking and screaming. Sorry Eva, Queeny needs Hannah’s skills over at the Arena. We’ll give her back in a bit.”

- Fragmented - (dead; stay tuned for the next one!)

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The anticipation for the event was brutal. Jacob fell asleep at the piano more often than his own room as he tried to assuage his nerves through practice, His dad probably would have lectured Jacob if he hadn’t been travelling, another long night of making sleeping plans and discussing healthier habits coupled with a few more appointments with Theresa. He quite liked Theresa, his therapist of a few years at this point. The sessions felt more like two friends shooting the breeze rather than a doctor listening to the word vomit as they trick your insecurities into rearing their ugly mugs. When he had time, Jacob liked to bring her favorite coffee from the little coffee shop that opened in the office building on Twelfth she recommended last year and she’d bring in the thumbprint cookies. He’d been begging for that recipe since he started seeing her but it was a damn family recipe. He secretly believed she used it to bribe him into talking on bad days―not so secret anymore since he accused her as she took the first sip of coffee and it came out her nose she laughed so hard―and the waiting was bad. She had them nearly every day. He couldn’t bring himself to take off the bracelet that covered his mark, even when he slept.

But now as he leaned against the cool glass of the bus, the waiting seemed like nothing. His nerves now made every second feel both too quick and too slow as he got closer to the chance to find his soulmate. Even his normal methods, reviewing sheet music or competing with the squad to find the most outrageous memes, didn’t seem to wind him down. He felt like he read the same bars fifty times before the notes ran together and his phone didn’t get signal this far up. So he was forced to gaze out over the scenery.

It was breathtaking. Even as they hugged a turn a tad too close or an unexpected decline made his stomach drop, he couldn’t quite shake the desire to feel the cold mountain wind against his skin or wander aimlessly among the thick blanket of evergreens. The city had nothing as serene as this; nothing but thick air and steel and concrete as far as the eye can see, either frigid and biting or unrelentingly hot. Out here, even the chill of the cold mountain air soothed rather than bit and the pleasant aroma of nature―real evergreens, not some sickly sweet imitation―beckoned its visitors into its open arms and whispered tales of planting roots.

Jacob startled back to attention as they pulled into the house, his breath catching at the sight. Even his home city struggled to command such majesty and wealth in the manner this mansion did. He stumbled out of the car, legs pricking from sitting in one position too long, and he gently pressed the wrinkles out of his suit. It wasn’t anything special, just the standard tuxedo he’d wear for recitals and competitions. He slipped on his gloves, a habit he learned from a professor of his, and fiddled absently with his necklace as he followed the captivated crowd into the building. He couldn’t possibly believe it was someone’s home. It must be rental space, made specifically for outlandish occasions such as hopefully bringing together soulmates.

The thought brought back the worry as he got a weak mojito from the bar and he ducked out of the group after their hosts’ introduction, getting directions to a restroom from a server. It felt like his pre show nerves but worse. Everything he’d gone through flashed past his mind’s eye as he locked the door to the extravagant restroom, splashing a bit of water on his face after he put down his drink. He stared at himself in the mirror for several long seconds, worrying the clasp on his bracelet. What if he couldn’t find them, what if he was List? What if his mom was right and it turned out exactly as she predicted.

“You will find your soulmate. You will find your soulmate. You will find your soulmate.” Jacob repeated to himself. Third times the charm, Christopher always said. He took that advice and ran with it when he started looking for ways to escape his performance nerves. Hopefully, he could apply it here too. “You will not be Lost. You will not be Lost. You will not be Lost.” He felt a little better, enough that he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and…

Clink.

The bracelet dropped into the sink. He stared at it for a bit before pocketing the item. He was in a room full of people just like him, with the same hopes and dreams and fears. If they all had the courage to face this, then he could too. He took a long sip of his drink, the extra mint giving him a bit of extra pep, and he swung open the door, an excited shine in his eye and a bounce in his step.

Ω Heroes of Olympus: The Next Age of Heroes Ω

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Aster Damien Luxiel

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Location: Wyandotte County Lake Park
Skills: N/A

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“Nope. Not a single Zesus kid at camp. Those cabins have been empty since before I started attending.” Aster said, leaning back on his hands as he ignored Demetri’s protesting squawk. The swim helped immensely, scrubbing off the sweat and dirt from the earlier fight but he still felt gross. He really should add more supplies to his bag. He rummaged through it, pulling out one of his chapstick and applied it as he thought. Shapeshifting was a terrible indicator. Basically all the gods did in one myth or another. He tossed the chapstick at Demetri afterwards and pulled out his lotion. Child of the Goddess of Beauty or not, there was still work to do to look perfect.

“Put that on. I can practically hear your lips cracking. It hurts my soul. You too, Jackson. Angie actually takes decent care but the canyons will distract me tonight.” Aster demanded as he rubbed the lotion into his hands, tossing the bottle into his bag. A smug grin tugged itself over his lips. “If you’re one of Zeus’s children, then I struck gold. Me, single handedly bringing in one of the big guy’s kids and after I saved him from a cyclops. I do love being me.” Aster sighed happily, checking his reflection out of habit. His grin tugged downwards into a thoughtful frown. “No other useful clues? How’d you get your hands on celestial bronze? I doubt you just stumbled across it.”

The Gifted - Concluded

James Kingston

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Location: The Mutant Underground (F7)
Skills: Kickboxing

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James took a step to the side after the ice ball slammed into the blaster’s crotch, something that made James grimace in sympathy, and the girl planted her foot in the guy’s face. Solid hit. He shot her a grin and chuckled. Not going to lie, he thought she might be the kind of girl to sit back and shoot ice from the back lines. He liked this side of her quite a bit. “Damn straight. Lets kick this guy’s ass.” James laughed and launched himself at him.

Again, he missed with a left hook. He’d hoped to compound on Leighton’s wrk but he could work with this. He let the momentum take him around again, his foot connecting with the man’s leg but the lack of response broke the movement and James swung awkwardly at the torso, the poorly aimed blow just glancing off the man. He didn’t seem any worse for James’s efforts and that had him more than a bit worried.

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Requiem

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Location: The Hellfire Club (D3)
Skills: Vocal Hypnosis

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Apparently, his first command hadn’t quite settled in the way he wanted. She completely ignored the fire and moved on to try and seduce the energy blasting buffoon. An odd way to interpret that command but if it did the trick, so be it. Some brat went flying as Anastasia chided him. All this chaos was making his head hurt. Or maybe that was glimpse as she snagged a hold of him through his mind. He could feel his body frozen but he discovered his mouth still worked as an unbidden snarl escaped when the fire caught his arms. He fought against the hold, panic rising.

“Put out this fire!” Requiem demanded of the room, feeling the command settle in Glimpse, Emma, and Sapphire’s minds. The panic was threatening to rise, not being able to move putting him on the verge of a panic attack. He felt the mark on his leg burn, a phantom pain from another time coming back at the turn of events. Anger was mingling with panic. Once the fire was out, he’d put a bullet in her head and use her corpse to end this fight.

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

Aetherically Advanced Thaumaturge WIP

Kajin Najin

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Kakajin Nanajin (Goes by Kajin Najin in the presence of non-dunesfolk)

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Lalafell

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Dunesfolk

_{ＢＩＲＴＨＰＬＡＣＥ}
Drybone, Thanalan

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Member of Azyema’s Eyes

_{ＳＯＵＬ ＣＲＹＳＴＡＬ}
Black Mage

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Screen Shot: Order outfit

Casual Clothing

Kajin stands at a fun sized 2' 10", the runt of the family, though he carries himself as if he was five times taller. Vibrant long pink hair with shocks of white make him stand out against the dark golds, greys, and blacks of the city. His eyes match his hair and he wears a jewel in the middle of his forehead to signify his zodiac in accordance to dunesfolk tradition. He wears loose breathable robes, all with a simple two tone color scheme. He isn't one for fashion and sometimes wears a simple tunic and breech combo if he plans to spend the day relaxing. He does enjoy braiding flowers in his hair when he doesn't have it pulled back in a bun.

His staff however is a matter of pride. In accordance to the traditions of his family, he was gifted a staff when he came of age. Created with meticulously carved voidsent bones-horns of a gargoyle topping a bone from an ogre-and set with a tiny and an Eye of Fire, every part of it is meant to draw aether in with efficiency. Kajin's family passes down the technique from generation to generation and each of his siblings carries one (with the exception of Shishijin) with a different elemental eye.

_{ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ}
Kajin is ambitious and creative, always thinking about the next step, the next challenge. He doesn’t understand the concept of shame, just as likely to burn his obstacles away and storm through the ashes with lightning and ice as he is to break down and cry until someone feels enough pity to help him or awkward enough to get out of his way. His obsession with aetherology often leads him to libraries and studies at al hours of the night and if given the opportunity, will work himself without food or sleep for as long as possible.

Despite his passion driven obsession, the first thing that always comes first is family. Once he has accepted someone as his own, they’re stuck with him for life. He is clearly the youngest of his own flesh and blood but his annoyance is outstripped by his protectiveness, barely needing a reason to bring down the full wrath of his arcane might against whoever slighted his kin. Unfortunately that brings with it a minor abandonment complex, ready to blow something up if his kin vanishes without giving him time to emotionally prepare.

_{ＢＩＯＧＲＡＰＨＹ}

Biography

Before the Calamity, the Golden Bazaar dominated Eastern Thanalan as the primary stopping point between Ul’dah and Gridanna for those without airship permits. A bustling town of merchants, locals and transients, the small hamlet provided anything a traveling caravan could need, from a place to rest your head to chocobo feed to repair services to a touch of entertainment for the oft encouraged longer stays. Anything that happened in the least acrid region of Thanalan was often launched out of this gathering place and housed nearly all the regions local’s, including the members of the Church of Saint Adama Landama who maintained one of Thanalan’s largest lichyards.

Unfortunately, the lichyard’s size became an unexpected problem. The few ponds that the settlement housing the lichyard derived its name from were at risk of contamination from the rotting corpses of those interred due to the heavy rainfall the region tended to experience. Poor organization and insufficient field research put early graves, and thus newer ones that spiraled out from the originals, too close to the water source and the rains recent began bringing some of the sealed diseases in the region’s primary drinking sources. In a bid to correct their mistake in the most cost efficient manner, the Church reached out to the Order of Nald’thal for training in their funeral rituals that should cleanse the bodies of their impurities.

The Order refused. Mumuepo, leader of the Thaumaturge’s guild at the time, threw out the request because a lack of donations to Thal’s church, despite the lichyard demanding the entirety of the Church’s resources. In a panic, the church reached out to anyone willing to help and they received it from an unexpected place.

Kikisuki Lelesuki answered the call, an aetherically advanced thaumaturge whose lineage could be traced back to before the fall of Sil’dah. Her family roamed the Thanalan desert, wandering on the backs of adamantoises, and used their ancient traditions of black magic and thaumaturgy to help those who struggle to help themselves. Kikisuki arrived shortly after the Order’s denial and taught several members of the Church the foundations of Thaumaturgy, helping them purge the afflicted corpses with fire and ice and lightning. Fofojin Sisijin, a gravedigger Kikisuki selected due to naturally elevated aetheric reserves, fell in love with the wandering thaumaturge and courted her for nearly two years before she returned his feelings.

The pair ended up giving birth to four children, two girls and two boys, most with the Lelesuki’s natural inclination for aetherial manipulation and their father’s high aetheric reserves. His older sisters, Lilijin and Shishijin, twins and the oldest siblings, followed closely by Papajin and then finally himself. Lilijin commanded the family’s natural magical prowess, honing her abilities under her mother’s tutelage and eventually leaving Drybones to join the extended Lelesuki clan’s wandering mission. Shishijin unfortunately was born with abnormally low aetheric reserves, unable to safety cast even basic thaumaturgy spells without putting herself in harm’s way, but after a troublesome teenage spell of bitter resentment, Shishijin joined their father at the Church of Saint Adama Landama and helps prepare offerings on behalf of those with no one to remember them. Papajin loathed the Gold Bazaar and abandoned it as soon as he was able. He joined the Order of Nald’thal, welcomed in with open arms due to his easy command of the thaumaturgical arts.

Kajin was the youngest and clearly had minor attachment issues. As a young child, he would follow his siblings and parents around feverently, throwing a tantrum if the current object of his attention stepped out of eye sight for even a second. He never seemed to favor one family member over another but his need for familial affection did stunt his social growth, always staying away from his peers if a family member was present. It persisted as he grew older, scorch marks on the wall when he found out Lilijin was striking out on her own. The family still teases him for it but if not for their mother’s timely intervention, Kajin probably would have burned down their home.

Like his brother and older sister, Kajin inherited his family’s aptitude for magical mayhem but took it further than his siblings. Where as they wielded it as a tool, as something to be used when necessary, Kajin loved magic. He loved the feeling of coaxing form from aether and sending it flying in an explosion of pure will. He hung desperately to his mother’s lessons, always begging for more, pushing his limits as far as they go, and as he got older, started his own experimentation into the arts. If anyone as much as whispered the word aether, Kajin would be there, spouting ideas and concepts before anyone realized what mishap they’d brought on themselves.

The Calamity struck just after Papajin struck off on his own, Kajin’s clinginess once again resulting in an irritable outburst of fire and lightning but this time outside of the home. The extended family scurried around the desert for days, putting down raging sprites and creatures whipped into a frenzy by the horrific events that threatened the safety of the people of Thanalan. Kajin, his parents, and Shishijin watched as the Burning Wall practically exploded with malformed aether and the world burned before them. Many suns passed as they put out fire after fire in Eastern Thanalan, each one burning with Bahamaut's unusually concentrated aether. They rotated, exposure to the intense aether sicking them, as the smothered them with ice and dispersed the aether as best they could.

Two years passed with no word from Papajin. Lilijin made sure to check in afterwards but hurried back with their grandmother. The rest were so busy with the increased dead that it wasn’t until Kajin made the effort to go to Ul’dah and practically break down the Order’s door that he discovered Azyma’s Eyes, an organization dedicated to quelling the turbulent aether and creating safe guards to prevent such widespread devastation from happening again. His brother was at the helm of Ul’dah’s chapter, practically drowning in work. Not that that stopped Kajin from crying in front of his colleagues, to remind him he had a family who was worried sick of course, and then he demanded he be involved. It took nearly six moons and a handful of bells to get Papajin to accept his help, not to mention several letters begging their parents to help because Kajin has no shame, but he eagerly entered the Eyes with full expectations that he’d get to do something useful.

Instead, Papajin stuck him on desk duty and adamantly refused to change his assignment. Not that it stopped the Lalafell from struggling against the tyranny of his elder sibling.

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Favorite Dish: Spaghetti Pescatore served at the Silver Bazaar

Gets drunk off ether potions due to his sensitivity to aether.

Hates the term "Black Mage" because of the connotations it carries. His family practices "Aetherically Advanced Thaumaturgy" and has the proper documentation to prove it as required by the Eorzean Alliance.

_{ＲＥＡＳＯＮ ＦＯＲ ＥＮＬＩＳＴＭＥＮＴ}

Too real

The sun burned low against the city skyline. Crowds seemed to swell as the dry Thanalan heat diffused into the cooling air and a dull roar rang through the city as her nightlife emerged to enjoy the encroaching darkness, the screams and shouting of the coliseum swelling to a crescendo as steel met steel on the blood sands. For all it’s glitter and gold in the midday sun, Ul’dah truly came alive at night, her people slipping out from their shadowy oases as dancers, musicians, and entertainment prowled the streets, eyes set on the heavy pockets of the wealthy citizenry. Gil and wine flowed freely in the city, any pleasure available to those with pockets deep enough to forget their troubles, even if only for the night.

Kajin made his way down Ul’dah’s sandy cobblestones, books piled high as he balanced his staff on the top. He could barely see around the few tomes, each one weighing with carefully transcribed reports on the aetheric movements of every major section of the massive Thanalan desert. His wrist still ached with the last few quill strokes, eyes blurry as he and several other members of the Eyes made copies to send out to the Conjurers and Arcanist guild for safe keeping and comparative analysis. His arms burned with the weight, the dedicated space for Azyma’s Eyes far too far away for a lalafell like himself. Barely brushing three feet tall, more than two of these books stacked on top of each other block his vision and three made his arms burn but here he was, one in a bag and three stacked high. The things he did for this twelves damned group.

Five years have already passed since the calamity brought the world to its knees. His older brother, a member of the Order of Nald’Thal, helped spearhead a collaborative effort between the various magic guilds in an attempt to alleviate the strain placed on the resource starved grand companies and tackle another imposing problem. With the aetheric currents thrown into complete disarray, Azyma’s Eyes rose to watch and prevent further aetheric disruption through its methods of observation, notation, and reaction. Reports poured in over the years, compiled into tomes and sent out across the city states for comparison as the aether settled enough to permit safe teleportation again. Various members were now moving forward to develop safeguards against such events, including theorizing various ways to counter balance severe aetheric disruptions in the event of approaching umbral calamities.

And his own brother relegated him to desk duty!

Admittedly, calling him a shite-face, swill-sodden pile of goobbue vomit was a bit unnecessary but Papajin using his authority to crush his own sibling’s ideas was an entirely different matter! It was abuse through and through and even whining at his parents hadn’t fixed the problem. The world needed people attuned to the aether right now. Teaching more magically experienced people would solve that. After all, it wasn’t like advanced thaumaturgy was all about destruction. Well, it was but it wouldn’t be possible without the intricate process of aetherial manipulation! And that was what advanced thaumaturgy was about. Moving and converting aether from one form into another!

And there were so so many possibilities! Imagine what carefully calculated aetheric conversion could accomplish and then apply that directly to a rapid decomposition of elemental crystals across a general locale and then what couldn’t they accomplish! Of course, there were some problems with that but what idea didn’t have problems at the beginning? He got excited again just considering the possibilities, the books threatening to topple as he practically vibrated but reality came settling in far too quickly. His suggestion had been cast aside, his plans torn to shreds, and his brother punished him with a dead end desk job copying pages as long as he stayed with the Eyes. The monotony of it all was starting to wear him thin, his passion for aetherology crushed beneath the weight of scribe work.

He blinked and suddenly he was on the cobblestones, blinking as a dull pain exploded in the back of his head. A pair of children sped past him, barely noticing the stranger they’d knocked over. He grabbed his staff, a present from his grandmother when they decided to induct him into the family traditions, and picked himself up with a groan. He felt the irritation inside him rise only to bubble back down, too tired from the mind numbing drudgery to care that much, and he passed through the Quicksand to retire to his company funded room. He’d set out on the morrow to home and send his portion forward with a porter to the Black Shroud once he arrived.

He ducked into the tavern doubling as the adventurer’s guild as a Roegadyn nearly shut the door on him. It was a full house tonight, weary travelers and adrenaline high adventurers making merry as was their wont. He could see Momodi cheerily welcoming another group, blood still splattered on their armor from whatever grand adventure they’d returned from, another tale tucked neatly into their belt and a healthy pile of gil to return their good will. He felt the yearning for that kind of freedom pull at his heart, the freedom to do what he wanted without his family crushing his aspirations, but now he barely had the energy to work on his theories. Wake up, work, go to bed, rinse and repeat. He sighed and side stepped a tossed tankard.

“Oye, goobbue feed, fetch that for me!” The same Roegadyn that nearly crushed him in the door shouted at him and Kajin sent a half hearted glare and continued on his way until his books were, again, knocked out of his hands.

“You hard o’ hearing, midget? I said pick. It. up.” The Roedgadyn growled. Kajin picked up his staff instead, the anger from earlier raising its head and curling hot in his belly. Lalafell discrimination was fairly common, the Syndacte and money grubbing Plainsfolk merchants to thank for that, but open confrontation was still rare. Most people had the common sense to realize were the perfect height for the worst type of attack. As he picked up his staff, the screech of a sword drawn drew his attention and he saw the shadow of the blade coming down on him.

It was reflex at this point. The first spell any aetherically advanced thaumaturge worth their staff mastered. The sword crashed against the barrier of hardened aether Kajin wove with the ease of experience. Just a simple flick of the wrist and the aether would follow, rushing to fill the void the movement created. Kajin sneered at the “Bloody mages” the brute muttered and the sword swung back. A muttered incantation followed it and Kajin sent a spark of lightning straight into his crotch with a satisfied smirk. The crack of thunder following it silenced the tavern, the clatter of the sword as it fell from the Roegadyn’s hand reverberating through the open space. The gladiator’s mouth dropped and for a moment he was silent until he howled and rolled on the floor, hands over his sensitive genitals. Kajin marched over, fire in his eyes, and he caught a stray strand of lightning aether in his staff, his staff crackling with lighting as it hovered over the brute’s throat

“Next time, I’ll make sure even the Pajal’s can’t save your little sand gecko.” The Lalafell snapped, bringing the staff up and slamming it back down with all his strength. The Roegadyn shut his eyes with a whimper, hands still protecting his sensitive nethers, but Kajin let the aether fade and he paused just above the brute’s nose. The Roegadyn opened his eyes after a few moments to the wicked grin on Kajin’s face and he bopped the gladiator’s nose with a loud “Boop!” He turned, staff safely stowed, as he picked up his books once more. Using magic was always an incredible rush, one he didn’t have nearly enough opportunity to indulge in. He righted himself and something caught his eye. A new poster on the wall for a Free Company called “The Blessed Twelve.” As if he was blessed. Blessed with a prick of a brother. He grumbled his entire way up to his room as his good mood crumbled, dropping the books noisily on the desk and unceremoniously hitting the floor. He laid there for a while, just staring at the ceiling.

He could. He’d get to practice his art again. He’d get to actually test his theories without his family’s deraigned limitations constantly pressing down on him. He wanted to help people, like everyone in his family swore to when they took up the family traditions. Kajin couldn’t help but feel that transcripting aether reports while wasn’t hurting anyone, wasn’t really helping them either. The image of the Blessed Twelve’s crest hung heavy in his mind and he worried his lip for a few more moments. He’d practically be slapping his own brother in the face. Papajin would be furious. The thought made Kajin laugh and he was on his feet in a heartbeat.

He’d never written as quickly as he did in that moment, requesting a transfer. They often encouraged aether sensitives into the company of adventurers. They could evaluate more dangerous areas and performed random checks to verify reports as they moved through the world. His brother held no sway over this part of the Eyes. His only regret was that he wouldn’t get to see Papajin’s face when he walked into the room and discovered Kajin managed to escape his claws.

Testing well everything!

Kajin Najin

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Kakajin Nanajin (Goes by Kajin Najin in the presence of non-dunesfolk)

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Lalafell

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Dunesfolk

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Drybone, Thanalan

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Member of Azyema’s Eyes

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Black Mage

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Kajin stands at a fun sized 2' 10", the runt of the family, though he carries himself as if he was five times taller. Vibrant long pink hair with shocks of white make him stand out against the dark golds, greys, and blacks of the city. His eyes match his hair and he wears a jewel in the middle of his forehead to signify his zodiac in accordance to dunesfolk tradition. He wears loose breathable robes, all with a simple two tone color scheme. He isn't one for fashion and sometimes wears a simple tunic and breech combo if he plans to spend the day relaxing. He does enjoy braiding flowers in his hair when he doesn't have it pulled back in a bun.

His staff however is a matter of pride. In accordance to the traditions of his family, he was gifted a staff when he came of age. Created with meticulously carved voidsent bones-horns of a gargoyle topping a bone from an ogre-and set with a tiny and an Eye of Fire, every part of it is meant to draw aether in with efficiency. Kajin's family passes down the technique from generation to generation and each of his siblings carries one (with the exception of Shishijin) with a different elemental eye.

_{ＰＥＲＳＯＮＡＬＩＴＹ}
(Screen shots WIP)
Kajin is ambitious and creative, always thinking about the next step, the next challenge. He doesn’t understand the concept of shame, just as likely to burn his obstacles away and storm through the ashes with lightning and ice as he is to break down and cry until someone feels enough pity to help him or awkward enough to get out of his way. His obsession with aetherology often leads him to libraries and studies at al hours of the night and if given the opportunity, will work himself without food or sleep for as long as possible.

Despite his passion driven obsession, the first thing that always comes first is family. Once he has accepted someone as his own, they’re stuck with him for life. He is clearly the youngest of his own flesh and blood but his annoyance is outstripped by his protectiveness, barely needing a reason to bring down the full wrath of his arcane might against whoever slighted his kin. Unfortunately that brings with it a minor abandonment complex, ready to blow something up if his kin vanishes without giving him time to emotionally prepare.

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Biography

Before the Calamity, the Golden Bazaar dominated Eastern Thanalan as the primary stopping point between Ul’dah and Gridanna for those without airship permits. A bustling town of merchants, locals and transients, the small hamlet provided anything a traveling caravan could need, from a place to rest your head to chocobo feed to repair services to a touch of entertainment for the oft encouraged longer stays. Anything that happened in the least acrid region of Thanalan was often launched out of this gathering place and housed nearly all the regions local’s, including the members of the Church of Saint Adama Landama who maintained one of Thanalan’s largest lichyards.

Unfortunately, the lichyard’s size became an unexpected problem. The few ponds that the settlement housing the lichyard derived its name from were at risk of contamination from the rotting corpses of those interred due to the heavy rainfall the region tended to experience. Poor organization and insufficient field research put early graves, and thus newer ones that spiraled out from the originals, too close to the water source and the rains recent began bringing some of the sealed diseases in the region’s primary drinking sources. In a bid to correct their mistake in the most cost efficient manner, the Church reached out to the Order of Nald’thal for training in their funeral rituals that should cleanse the bodies of their impurities.

The Order refused. Mumuepo, leader of the Thaumaturge’s guild at the time, threw out the request because a lack of donations to Thal’s church, despite the lichyard demanding the entirety of the Church’s resources. In a panic, the church reached out to anyone willing to help and they received it from an unexpected place.

Kikisuki Lelesuki answered the call, an aetherically advanced thaumaturge whose lineage could be traced back to before the fall of Sil’dah. Her family roamed the Thanalan desert, wandering on the backs of adamantoises, and used their ancient traditions of black magic and thaumaturgy to help those who struggle to help themselves. Kikisuki arrived shortly after the Order’s denial and taught several members of the Church the foundations of Thaumaturgy, helping them purge the afflicted corpses with fire and ice and lightning. Fofojin Sisijin, a gravedigger Kikisuki selected due to naturally elevated aetheric reserves, fell in love with the wandering thaumaturge and courted her for nearly two years before she returned his feelings.

The pair ended up giving birth to four children, two girls and two boys, most with the Lelesuki’s natural inclination for aetherial manipulation and their father’s high aetheric reserves. His older sisters, Lilijin and Shishijin, twins and the oldest siblings, followed closely by Papajin and then finally himself. Lilijin commanded the family’s natural magical prowess, honing her abilities under her mother’s tutelage and eventually leaving Drybones to join the extended Lelesuki clan’s wandering mission. Shishijin unfortunately was born with abnormally low aetheric reserves, unable to safety cast even basic thaumaturgy spells without putting herself in harm’s way, but after a troublesome teenage spell of bitter resentment, Shishijin joined their father at the Church of Saint Adama Landama and helps prepare offerings on behalf of those with no one to remember them. Papajin loathed the Gold Bazaar and abandoned it as soon as he was able. He joined the Order of Nald’thal, welcomed in with open arms due to his easy command of the thaumaturgical arts.

Kajin was the youngest and clearly had minor attachment issues. As a young child, he would follow his siblings and parents around feverently, throwing a tantrum if the current object of his attention stepped out of eye sight for even a second. He never seemed to favor one family member over another but his need for familial affection did stunt his social growth, always staying away from his peers if a family member was present. It persisted as he grew older, scorch marks on the wall when he found out Lilijin was striking out on her own. The family still teases him for it but if not for their mother’s timely intervention, Kajin probably would have burned down their home.

Like his brother and older sister, Kajin inherited his family’s aptitude for magical mayhem but took it further than his siblings. Where as they wielded it as a tool, as something to be used when necessary, Kajin loved magic. He loved the feeling of coaxing form from aether and sending it flying in an explosion of pure will. He hung desperately to his mother’s lessons, always begging for more, pushing his limits as far as they go, and as he got older, started his own experimentation into the arts. If anyone as much as whispered the word aether, Kajin would be there, spouting ideas and concepts before anyone realized what mishap they’d brought on themselves.

The Calamity struck just after Papajin struck off on his own, Kajin’s clinginess once again resulting in an irritable outburst of fire and lightning but this time outside of the home. The extended family scurried around the desert for days, putting down raging sprites and creatures whipped into a frenzy by the horrific events that threatened the safety of the people of Thanalan. Kajin, his parents, and Shishijin watched as the Burning Wall practically exploded with malformed aether and the world burned before them. Many suns passed as they put out fire after fire in Eastern Thanalan, each one burning with Bahamaut's unusually concentrated aether. They rotated, exposure to the intense aether sicking them, as the smothered them with ice and dispersed the aether as best they could.

Two years passed with no word from Papajin. Lilijin made sure to check in afterwards but hurried back with their grandmother. The rest were so busy with the increased dead that it wasn’t until Kajin made the effort to go to Ul’dah and practically break down the Order’s door that he discovered Azyma’s Eyes, an organization dedicated to quelling the turbulent aether and creating safe guards to prevent such widespread devastation from happening again. His brother was at the helm of Ul’dah’s chapter, practically drowning in work. Not that that stopped Kajin from crying in front of his colleagues, to remind him he had a family who was worried sick of course, and then he demanded he be involved. It took nearly six moons and a handful of bells to get Papajin to accept his help, not to mention several letters begging their parents to help because Kajin has no shame, but he eagerly entered the Eyes with full expectations that he’d get to do something useful.

Instead, Papajin stuck him on desk duty and adamantly refused to change his assignment. Not that it stopped the Lalafell from struggling against the tyranny of his elder sibling.

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Favorite Dish: Spaghetti Pescatore served at the Silver Bazaar

Hates the term "Black Mage" because of the connotations it carries. His family practices "Aertherically Advanced Thaumaturgy" and has the proper documentation to prove it as required by the Eorzean Alliance.

_{ＲＥＡＳＯＮ ＦＯＲ ＥＮＬＩＳＴＭＥＮＴ}

Too real

The sun burned low against the city skyline. Crowds seemed to swell as the dry Thanalan heat diffused into the cooling air and a dull roar rang through the city as her nightlife emerged to enjoy the encroaching darkness, the screams and shouting of the coliseum swelling to a crescendo as steel met steel on the blood sands. For all it’s glitter and gold in the midday sun, Ul’dah truly came alive at night, her people slipping out from their shadowy oases as dancers, musicians, and entertainment prowled the streets, eyes set on the heavy pockets of the wealthy citizenry. Gil and wine flowed freely in the city, any pleasure available to those with pockets deep enough to forget their troubles, even if only for the night.

Kajin made his way down Ul’dah’s sandy cobblestones, books piled high as he balanced his staff on the top. He could barely see around the few tomes, each one weighing with carefully transcribed reports on the aetheric movements of every major section of the massive Thanalan desert. His wrist still ached with the last few quill strokes, eyes blurry as he and several other members of the Eyes made copies to send out to the Conjurers and Arcanist guild for safe keeping and comparative analysis. His arms burned with the weight, the dedicated space for Azyma’s Eyes far too far away for a lalafell like himself. Barely brushing three feet tall, more than two of these books stacked on top of each other block his vision and three made his arms burn but here he was, one in a bag and three stacked high. The things he did for this twelves damned group.

Five years have already passed since the calamity brought the world to its knees. His older brother, a member of the Order of Nald’Thal, helped spearhead a collaborative effort between the various magic guilds in an attempt to alleviate the strain placed on the resource starved grand companies and tackle another imposing problem. With the aetheric currents thrown into complete disarray, Azyma’s Eyes rose to watch and prevent further aetheric disruption through its methods of observation, notation, and reaction. Reports poured in over the years, compiled into tomes and sent out across the city states for comparison as the aether settled enough to permit safe teleportation again. Various members were now moving forward to develop safeguards against such events, including theorizing various ways to counter balance severe aetheric disruptions in the event of approaching umbral calamities.

And his own brother relegated him to desk duty!

Admittedly, calling him a shite-face, swill-sodden pile of goobbue vomit was a bit unnecessary but Papajin using his authority to crush his own sibling’s ideas was an entirely different matter! It was abuse through and through and even whining at his parents hadn’t fixed the problem. The world needed people attuned to the aether right now. Teaching more magically experienced people would solve that. After all, it wasn’t like advanced thaumaturgy was all about destruction. Well, it was but it wouldn’t be possible without the intricate process of aetherial manipulation! And that was what advanced thaumaturgy was about. Moving and converting aether from one form into another!

And there were so so many possibilities! Imagine what carefully calculated aetheric conversion could accomplish and then apply that directly to a rapid decomposition of elemental crystals across a general locale and then what couldn’t they accomplish! Of course, there were some problems with that but what idea didn’t have problems at the beginning? He got excited again just considering the possibilities, the books threatening to topple as he practically vibrated but reality came settling in far too quickly. His suggestion had been cast aside, his plans torn to shreds, and his brother punished him with a dead end desk job copying pages as long as he stayed with the Eyes. The monotony of it all was starting to wear him thin, his passion for aetherology crushed beneath the weight of scribe work.

He blinked and suddenly he was on the cobblestones, blinking as a dull pain exploded in the back of his head. A pair of children sped past him, barely noticing the stranger they’d knocked over. He grabbed his staff, a present from his grandmother when they decided to induct him into the family traditions, and picked himself up with a groan. He felt the irritation inside him rise only to bubble back down, too tired from the mind numbing drudgery to care that much, and he passed through the Quicksand to retire to his company funded room. He’d set out on the morrow to home and send his portion forward with a porter to the Black Shroud once he arrived.

He ducked into the tavern doubling as the adventurer’s guild as a Roegadyn nearly shut the door on him. It was a full house tonight, weary travelers and adrenaline high adventurers making merry as was their wont. He could see Momodi cheerily welcoming another group, blood still splattered on their armor from whatever grand adventure they’d returned from, another tale tucked neatly into their belt and a healthy pile of gil to return their good will. He felt the yearning for that kind of freedom pull at his heart, the freedom to do what he wanted without his family crushing his aspirations, but now he barely had the energy to work on his theories. Wake up, work, go to bed, rinse and repeat. He sighed and side stepped a tossed tankard.

“Oye, goobbue feed, fetch that for me!” The same Roegadyn that nearly crushed him in the door shouted at him and Kajin sent a half hearted glare and continued on his way until his books were, again, knocked out of his hands.

“You hard o’ hearing, midget? I said pick. It. up.” The Roedgadyn growled. Kajin picked up his staff instead, the anger from earlier raising its head and curling hot in his belly. Lalafell discrimination was fairly common, the Syndacte and money grubbing Plainsfolk merchants to thank for that, but open confrontation was still rare. Most people had the common sense to realize were the perfect height for the worst type of attack. As he picked up his staff, the screech of a sword drawn drew his attention and he saw the shadow of the blade coming down on him.

It was reflex at this point. The first spell any aetherically advanced thaumaturge worth their staff mastered. The sword crashed against the barrier of hardened aether Kajin wove with the ease of experience. Just a simple flick of the wrist and the aether would follow, rushing to fill the void the movement created. Kajin sneered at the “Bloody mages” the brute muttered and the sword swung back. A muttered incantation followed it and Kajin sent a spark of lightning straight into his crotch with a satisfied smirk. The crack of thunder following it silenced the tavern, the clatter of the sword as it fell from the Roegadyn’s hand reverberating through the open space. The gladiator’s mouth dropped and for a moment he was silent until he howled and rolled on the floor, hands over his sensitive genitals. Kajin marched over, fire in his eyes, and he caught a stray strand of lightning aether in his staff, his staff crackling with lighting as it hovered over the brute’s throat

“Next time, I’ll make sure even the Pajal’s can’t save your little sand gecko.” The Lalafell snapped, bringing the staff up and slamming it back down with all his strength. The Roegadyn shut his eyes with a whimper, hands still protecting his sensitive nethers, but Kajin let the aether fade and he paused just above the brute’s nose. The Roegadyn opened his eyes after a few moments to the wicked grin on Kajin’s face and he bopped the gladiator’s nose with a loud “Boop!” He turned, staff safely stowed, as he picked up his books once more. Using magic was always an incredible rush, one he didn’t have nearly enough opportunity to indulge in. He righted himself and something caught his eye. A new poster on the wall for a Free Company called “The Blessed Twelve.” As if he was blessed. Blessed with a prick of a brother. He grumbled his entire way up to his room as his good mood crumbled, dropping the books noisily on the desk and unceremoniously hitting the floor. He laid there for a while, just staring at the ceiling.

He could. He’d get to practice his art again. He’d get to actually test his theories without his family’s deraigned limitations constantly pressing down on him. He wanted to help people, like everyone in his family swore to when they took up the family traditions. Kajin couldn’t help but feel that transcripting aether reports while wasn’t hurting anyone, wasn’t really helping them either. The image of the Blessed Twelve’s crest hung heavy in his mind and he worried his lip for a few more moments. He’d practically be slapping his own brother in the face. Papajin would be furious. The thought made Kajin laugh and he was on his feet in a heartbeat.

He’d never written as quickly as he did in that moment, requesting a transfer. They often encouraged aether sensitives into the company of adventurers. They could evaluate more dangerous areas and performed random checks to verify reports as they moved through the world. His brother held no sway over this part of the Eyes. His only regret was that he wouldn’t get to see Papajin’s face when he walked into the room and discovered Kajin managed to escape his claws.

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Runa's Skills: Eldritch Magic
James' Skills: Accelerated Healing Factor, Strategy

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The pain didn’t register for a bit. He stared in shock at the hand on the ground and the bleeding stump on his arm. He watched as it healed over with an eerie calm His eyes darted between the two for a few moments and all he could think was “I should have fucking shot her again.” That was all he got before the pain slammed into him and screamed every profanity he knew. The white hot burning on his stump took over everything, not even noticing her trapping him in the other dimension. He wouldn't really understand what she did even if he had noticed. His vision was blurred and spotty but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to focus. The longer he was out of it, the more likely it was this bitch would take advantage of it.

He took a deep breath and calmed himself down, focusing instead on the situation at hand. What he wanted to say, Are you a fucking idot? would only get him killed that much faster and damn whoever thought he was going down easy. He still had his pistol but he dropped the ICER here… there… Wherever he dropped it. The pistol was a last resort. He had to get her to let him out. Or drag someone more powerful in. The gears in his head worked overtime as considered how to handle this. He was outclassed, in a world he didn't understand, and this absolutely idiotic woman was the key to all of it. Fuck.

"Lance is in danger. The last transmission I made told everyone where he was but now he is knocked out and alone on the ground in the middle of a field with people running around screaming as the Hulk smashes everything within range. James said carefully, sighing at the end of it. It was hard keeping the pain out of his voice and he wasn't entirely successful, the strain clear. He sat down, shoulders slumped as he stared at the girl. "Get on with it. Play with me however you want. Everything was for nothing if he dies. If only Klara agreed to be set free." He shook his head in disappointment.

The ex-Asgardian stared at James, her eyes still surrounded by fragmented purple skin. Logic and rationality went out the window - she barely heard his words, just seeing a personification of everything horrible that had ever happened in her life in front of her. She blamed James now for things he never did - for the rumors that swept around Asgard that she was evil incarnate, for giving her the love of her life only to set into motion the events that would take him away from her, for the prophecy that her father would die an unworthy death and that her mother would succumb to grief. She let out a scream, not even forming the words for the incantation, and she tried to let out the raw power to set him on fire - to burn him alive just as they were about to do to her cousin, Klara. But her emotions made her unfocused and nothing happened.

James looked left and then right and then left again as the girl all but screeched something at him. Nothing. He sighed again, disappointed that apparently the Lance issues was less serious than he thought. He needed to figure out what she was thinking or get that fancy toy she fected yesterday that let her open portals. Well, he’d provoke her a bit more and see if maybe he’d get her to actually say something this time. He pulled out his pistol again and fired two shots, missing wildly, and shrugged. That shoud be enough to rile her up some more. Maybe she’d take offense to the gun and deal with that next. Might buy him some more time to figure out how to redirect her.

“Oh look at that. We both suck at this.” James drawled sarcastically as he put the pistol on the ground next to him. “Though if you’re going to slaughter me and send me to whatever hellish realm you think I’m going to, mind telling me why? I shot you, thats fair, but this is a lot of anger for just being shot. I thought Asgardians were used to battle wounds.”

Runa flung a disc of magical energy at James, hoping to decapitate him. However, her frisbee skills needed some work as she just gave him a slight graze, resulting in a tiny cut on the neck, and the magical disc then whizzed off into the distance. "When your father is Baldur the Beautiful, your mother is the Goddess of Springtime, your brother the god of Justice... And you're the Goddess of Lies, you never get happiness," Runa informed him, slipping into the signature villain monologue. "I'm going to have my happiness taken away from me. I can't change that. At least I can make you suffer for what you've done. I'll enjoy that."

James hissed as a fresh pain blossomed from his neck. Nowhere near as intense as his arm but with his entire nervous system feeling raw and brutally sensitive, it burned like a bitch. He clenched his teeth for a few moments, his free hand coming up to check the wound. It was miniscule since the woman missed its likely intended target. But her words were what interested him. He almost found it amusing, the family issues plaguing the Asgardian. Apparently even gods struggled with those.

“And what evil is that? Please enlighten me.” James asked. “Wait. You’re the Goddess of Lies? You’re telling me, you are literally the person in charge of falsehood and conveniently I’m being constantly told this entire reality is fake? So now that some mutant idiots discovered your plot, you’re going to murder me or is this just becasue someone is playing in your sandbox?” James really thought he was fucked up but these Asgardians were really taking the cake. The first one got herself captured over some petty insult and the other is throwing a temper tantrum because someone is playing in her domain. Laughter bubbled out of James and even though fresh tears fell as the pain rocketed through his body, he couldn't stop it. This whole situation was just too fucking hilarious.

She tried to cut off his other hand - three times even - but with no success. What sort of being was he? Runa narrowed her eyes, convinced that a secret Master of the Mystic Arts stood in front of her, laughing and jeering as if he didn't know about the stigma surrounding Baldur's daughter. Everything in the universe loved her father - and similarly, it felt as if everything also hated her in turn. There was a balance there. "I'm going to murder you because you DESERVE it!" Runa screamed. Something then clicked in her mind. "... Of course. It's you. I should have known, Loki - any Midgardian would have been DEAD from my magic by now!"

The laughter stopped. The Shield agent went rigid and still, eyes wide and unfocused as he stared past Runa into empty space. An entire other life assaulted his senses, one so aggressively foriegn to the man and yet was undoubtedly his. In some respects, they were similar. A few idle hobbies, mornings spent struggling in the library after ten too many drinks the night before, easy sunday afternoons finishing up a few pieces for his dad’s shop. But that’s where it all stopped. That James loved people, this James ignored them. That James laughed at the little things, this James ignored them. That James enjoyed helping people, this James didn’t care, only caring about the satisfaction of completing the next project. Emotions this James hadn’t experienced in many years welled up and, unbidden, tears trickled down his face.

James, both This and That, realized the crossroads they now stood at. Which way would they choose, for both believed their own the better. A dorky grin, the press of a shoulder and the grip of a hand, of laughter and tears all wrapped into brief moments of hurt, confusion, relief assaulted them. This James knew he would never have that, not here, not how he would be, and not with his goals. So he gave in. That James became James and This James ceased to be, only a string of nightmares one after another.

“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” James spoke softly and sincerely, trembling as he met Runa’s gaze. “You’re right. We do deserve it. The me here has been nothing but horrific. But I’m here now, the actual me. Let me fix it and then you can kill us. Let me undo what he’s done, including where he shot you.”

No part of her wanted to believe him. While the majority of her powers were gone in this reality, she still could tell the difference between truth and lies. James' statement did not give her that pinprick of pressure in her head - he was telling the truth. She wished that he was lying - she wished that he wasn't sorry and that he didn't ask to make things right. Her happy ending would have been beheading him, taking his mangled body and throwing it in front of the world as a warning to those who tested her. And while the power from the Dark Dimension was coursing through her veins and it was so tempting to just give into it entirely, she let out a breath and let it go. Her face returned to normal, no longer featuring the decaying purple cracks around her eyes - though they were still slightly red from tears.

She stumbled slightly as the pain from being shot rushed back to her and she gripped her wound, pulling her hand away for a second to see fresh blood. Maybe he would be able to help her - or maybe she would die. Didn't she deserve it as well? "Fortsett..." she mumbled, using the sling ring to open a portal that would allow James to leave the Mirror Dimension.

James watched her calm down and opens the portal, scrambling to his feet. He hissed in pain when he tries to use his missing hand for leverage and nearly toppled over. That would be a long adjustment. He was through the portal quicky, waiting impatiently for Runa. He hadn't missed the fresh blood on her. He wanted to stop the bleeding now but he wasn't sure how this whole portal thing worked so he didn't chance disrupting her focus "Come on. Quickly. We have to get that bleeding stopped before you pass out "

She nodded slightly, stumbling her way out of the portal. The portal thankfully was remaining open and would allow James to leave as well - especially fortunate since Runa fell to the ground once they were outside and back in what was considered the real world at the moment. There were horror stories about people trapped in the Mirror Dimension, unable to escape if they did something as dangerous as misplace their sling ring. While it was a great place for training or an uninterrupted battle, it also could easily double as a prison for some of the more powerful individuals on the planet with ease.

“Oh, fuck.” James swore as he rushed to the collapsed woman. Between trying to kill him, bleeding out, and jumping from place to place, Runa must have been exhausted. But for now, they had to get away. James’s specifically called for back up to secure Lance and it wouldn’t be long before Watts managed to wrangle them together. He knelt next to her, confirming the bullet wasn’t lodged in her. Thank God for small mercies. He placed his hand gently on her wound, the familiar pounding in his ears as he slowled the beeling and stitched the skin back together.

“There, you’ll be fine.” He wheezed as he caught his breath. “Lets get Lance and your cousin before we bounce. And my hand. See if I can fix that too.”

She took a breath and felt the pain subside. She didn't know if she should thank him or attack him again - a strong part of her wanted to do both. He bore a striking resemblance to one of her favorite gods on Asgard - Tyr. He was a god of war, but it was mostly due to James' lack of a hand. Tyr had lost his to the wolf Fenrir. "Thank you," Runa then said, though it seemed like she really had to force herself to show him gratitude - he did save her life, of course. "Maybe you are not completely horrible, Midgardian..." Looking around, she then attempted to locate Lance. In her anger, she had abandoned him on the ground, unconscious. It stung slightly to think about, yet if she could go back in time and do it all again, she would without a doubt.