Celaira

In a Perfect World

I am still reading the first book, but I am very interested in where this could go. I don't personally have an idea for a character, though.

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

⊰Aftermath - Part 2⊱

Ominar - The Archytas Club
Collab between @CorrosiveCherry @Tuujaimaa @Celaira @yoshua171

---

As the time passed and the city began to recover, a motley crew of individuals found themselves--almost inexplicably--drawn together. Crow was one such individual and perhaps more than any other, he had paid attention to each new member and exactly how they were brought into the group. With each he noted some unifying aspect. These were all humans like Yvette. Humans a step beyond.

The slightest of smiles played across his lips.

’How very peculiar,’ he thought, but he mentioned nothing to his new companions. Instead, he merely suggested they find a better place to talk, perhaps somewhere more private. Gently, giving Yvette some cues here and there, he guided them to a particular location near the center of the city. Though it was with the convenience of magic that they traversed the distance, rather than by vehicle or foot.

Stepping onto the sidewalk and rounding a corner they’d come upon an unassuming building. However, at the door, Crow provided identification for himself--vouching for those with him--before the door was opened and they were admitted inside.

Just past the entry was a lobby and while there was a receptionist, he waved them off and led them deeper into the building. Eventually after a few turns and the opening of a door, they would enter a rather large and ornate room. It was decorated with the finest upholstery and furniture, though it was mostly sensible and modern. There were plenty of places to sit and rather oddly, a fireplace that was already on. There was a mini-bar in one corner that appeared to be stocked with all manner of drinks, not all of them alcoholic.

“Sit anywhere reasonable,” he said casually, “...and feel free to drink. Just ask if it’s from the top shelf. Those are...special.”

That said he found his second favorite spot and sat down in the soft seat, lounging back into it, hands folded neatly in his lap.

In Nabri's mind, using one's feet or a vehicle to travel was utterly barbaric. A primitive analogue of movement for a primitive people - and he was certainly of the opinion that all of the individuals in the little liaison they had cobbled together were better than that. Crow's navigation through the Maze of Shadows was superb--he expected no less--but upon arrival the fact that there was no obnoxious poofing noise startled him noticeably. It took him mere seconds to rectify this by teleporting himself a few feet to the side and creating an extra loud poof.

Unintentionally, it sounded vaguely similar to an explosion, and he took a second to consider it before remembering Solhavre and apologising profusely to everyone in the area with the beginnings of a smirk upon his face.

As Crow showed his ID to the doorman, vouching for the other members of their impromptu gathering, Nabri in particular took a second to flip through his mental catalogue of IDs and summoned one labeled "The Archytas Club", showing that to the doorman who nodded in recognition of his membership within the exclusive club. Indeed, a club could not truly be considered exclusive unless Nabriales was a part of it. Nabri actually visited very few of the illustrious establishments that he was a member of, but this club in particular was one he had sent various go-betweens and messengers to in his somewhat extended dealings with Crow in the past. Indeed, information had made Crow strong in the past century or two that he'd been active within Ominar; Nabri had kept an eye on his network of influence out of curiosity, and even for one as experienced as him in matters of subtlety and espionage the extent of his presence in Ominar was hard to read.

With a wave of his hand, he summoned his favourite chair and a bottle of expensive champagne--along with substantially more expensive vis crystal champagne flutes--appeared on the table (sans vaguely offensive poofing noise) they had gathered around, filled to an appropriate level.

"No offence, hon, but I don't think the quality of beverage here is quite up to my standards."

Taking a sip from the flute in his hand, Nabriales elected to begin the conversation:

"I suppose the question on everyone's lips is simple, hmm? Who--or what--made that explosion? I have never seen vis of that magnitude and concentration, and I have certainly never seen a being capable of such a feat."

As the group arrived at the club, Yvette’s eyes trailed over each individual. Especially her mother. As they walked into the building, she nodded to the bouncer, and receptionist both. She had met both of them the first time she’d been there 3 and a half years ago. She said nothing as they were taken to an all too familiar room. Once they were inside, and Crow sat down, she found a perch herself across the table from him, her legs crossed one over the other. She needn’t be barraged with yet more questions about what she and Crow were doing together.

As Nabri spoke, Yvette reached for a small glass of what appeared to be raspberry moscato, and took a delicate sip. “Likewise.” Her voice was curt, but gentle even as she took another sip of her drink. Once more, her sienna eyes trailed across the faces of each individual in the room, her pale white locks shifting slightly with imperceptible movements that she made. “Crow,” She addressed her compatriot, setting her glass on a coaster on the table. “Could this have been caused by a Licentia? Or do you think it might’ve been something else?”

Waiting for his response, she glanced at her mother, meeting her eyes calmly. “What about you, Mother? Have you seen anything like this before?”

Fandaniel's entrance to the club was largely lackluster. She moved stiffly, clearly out of her social depth, and stuck closely to Yvette. As Nabriales created that obnoxious poofing noise she audibly heaved out a sound so laced with disapproval it could only be described as a disgusted noise. She resisted the urge to punch him squarely in the jaw and simply walked past him into the club, paying absolutely no heed to the doorman. He gave her that stern look that any doorman gives a perceived undesirable and she returned a withering glare that invited him to try and stop her from entering. Seeing sense (and the full plate armour that she wore), he did not press the issue and simply allowed her passage under Crow's orders.

As she joined everyone in the room, she took a seat and dragged it closer to Yvette than either of them felt comfortable with, and fixed her with her best motherly stare for a few seconds before taking a glass of champagne and necking it, then taking Yvette's glass of champagne and holding it awkwardly. As Nabriales described the explosion, her expression softened and sombered--thinking about Solhavre--before returning to its usual stony and dour state. At Yvette's behest, she spoke up:

"Never. It broke my antimagic shield--something no spell I have ever encountered has done." She added, having very little else to say on the matter and motioning for the next individual to speak up.

A brief, palpable moment of silence passed. Conspicuously absent was the tiny slip of a girl, nary a hair nor hide of her fuzzy little head to be seen.
Naomi was--on this rare occasion--late. When silence took control over the room, attention was passed not to the next person, but the burblings behind the door.
”What? No. I can’t just… Hand them off. They’re attached to my ostium. If I drop them, they’re going to hit the ground like a ton of bricks. No--what? Identification? Do I look like I have the pockets to carry around stuff I didn’t know I’d need? Move your butt.”
An obnoxiously loud CLICK-CLUNK followed as the door’s simple tumbler lock busted open under the measured torque of a single gauntlet.
”Hey, you can’t do that--”
”I don’t know how to tell you this, but I already did.”
The door swung open, revealing a disconcerted bouncer and a tiny fox-featured girl in the gateway.
”I’m with them. Sorry about the lock! Someone will fix it, eventually, and it’ll have exactly nothing to do with me.” Nao stated matter-of-factly, brushing past the guard and closing the now-broken door behind her. It chose not to remain closed. Now unable to properly shut, it creaked slowly back open, leaving the same guard staring helplessly at the whirlwind of activity that had just transpired. Naomi, thankfully, was nothing without her cleverness. Pulling a book from a nearby shelf, she quickly placed the almanac in the arc of the door’s swing, like a makeshift doorstop.
”So I have good news, great news, terrible news, and bad news.

“Good news is that my bird is fed. Great news is that I now know that I can break locks with a good old-fashioned twist.
Terrible news is that I have zero idea what the hell that explosion was, and neither do the Chayi.” Naomi held up her white, leather-bound journal, fraught with notes and dog-ears.

”A couple thousand years of written research on runes has shown diddly.” She placed the book upon a coffee table near the center of the circle, seating herself nearby.
”...And the bad news is that I’m internet famous. I… Might have waltzed through a licentia protest on my way home. And… I have spent the past hour deleting my social media presence. The number of throwaway email addresses I have at this point is unbelievably fucked. Also, I broke their door, so someone might have to cough up for that.” Naomi reclined in her seat, Aldous and George taking up sentry upon either side of her, as they always did.

Reaching into one of her dress pockets--it was a thing that could hardly be called a coat--she produced her smartphone, quickly tapping away as she quickly found the evidence that she’d accrued.

”Has someone already thrown out the “licentia” card? Because if so, I’m deeply unimpressed. I’ve been talking to a lot of licenti, and watching the ‘net for posts. The sentiments about the… What are we calling this? Bombing?” Naomi’s gaze flitted back up to meet the group, now making unimpeded eye contact.

”Point is, licentia on a broad scale aren’t pissed at the prae because they support the bombing. They’re pissed because the prae seem to be blaming them wholesale. Have any of you seen the hashtag that’s trending? Because, hoo, boy, you would be impressed. Hashtag-Sol-Hav-Prae. Great pun. Awful rhetoric.” Nao waggled her phone to punctuate her point, offering a knowing look to the group as a whole.

”So that being said, the coastline’s doing better already but things are still completely tits-up. How is everyone else doing today? Because I could use a drink or five. We’re dealing with vis usage on a pretty unimaginable scale, here. I can only hope that this was a small group of people that caused this, because any one person with this kind of power would be…

Well, they’d be on a kill list for at least one reason. This is bad fucking news we’re talking about.” Naomi’s sober tone underlined the gravity of the situation, her countenance surprisingly grim for its innocent shape.

She took a deep breath as her phone sunk back into her pocket. ”Tell me someone here knows something that I don’t.”

Listening closely as the others spoke up, Casaeri found his thoughts dragged inexplicably to his time in Torqueo. He recalled beings of inconsiderable power. Particularly a licenti lord who he had not seen for a very...very long time. He intended not to for awhile yet. He wished those gathered had more to offer, though even the smallest tidbits of information could assist him in puzzling through the conundrum that the catastrophic blast had left in its wake.

Mind drifting faintly, he found his perception latching onto what he could only describe as a mildly amusing scuffle back at the entrance to the building. At hearing the late arrival of another guest--and her brief struggle with security--he couldn’t help but allow the smallest of smiles tug at the edges of his lips. It was times like these that he was glad that he was what he was...rather than truly being the human that his visage implied. Glancing towards the door from the corner of his eye as Nao entered the room, he took note of the two giant constructs that floated alongside her.

’Intriguing.’

His gaze turning away, he listened, waiting for her to finish before adding anything further. Absently he channeled a measure of his vis through the unseen and oft undetected maze of shadows. On the other end of the maze, far across the city, another Casaeri formed and went about contacting a vast number of contacts. It was time to do some digging.

Attention shifting back to his primary form, Crow briefly turned his attention to Yvette, “Could one have done this? Certainly. Is it plausible? Hardly. Besides, the vis is all wrong,” he shook his head and took up one of Nabri’s crystal glasses, holding it up to the light to observe.

“If that weren’t enough, the likelihood of a licentia sufficiently powerful to create such a destructive blast being in Medius without us knowing is...well, let’s just call it incredibly low.” He cast his eyes over those assembled and, with a mildly apologetic smile, continued. “Most of those licentia who could do this, simply would not. They would have to be monumentally old to have accrued such vast power and most of such licentia are...less than fond of humans, not to mention sparse in their numbers. That or they’d be apathetic to your kind, let alone the prae. Human or prae politicking is simply not the concern of many of our kind--at least among those who do not dwell among you that is.”

He shook his head and lowered the glass, standing to walk over to the minibar. Without looking back at them he began fetching a few bottles, two of which had been halfway drained already.

“Yvette, would you care for a drink?” He paused then set down one of the bottles and turned to look at Nao, “Ah and what strikes your fancy, madam?” There was a casualness to his voice that lent itself to flirtation, but it would be clear that he was merely being a gentleman.

Yvette watched her mother as she pulled her chair uncomfortably close, and very blatantly put a reasonable amount of space between them by pushing her own seat with her vis. As her mother spoke, she listened intently, only slightly surprised that the explosion had broken through her anti-magic shield. After several moments of silence, the woman leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed in thought.

It was then that a commotion began outside, and she glanced towards the door just as it was being slammed open. She watched silently as another of her cousins entered the room and took a seat. As Naomi spoke about the things she’d seen throughout the day a small lizard-like licentia appeared on Yvette’s shoulder, chirping happily. Absently, she stroked the creature’s fur, and it made its way down her arm into her lap where it then curled up.

When Crow began to speak, Yvette glanced at him, taking in his words calmly. He rebuffed her thought, but it occurred to her that his reasoning didn’t quite make sense. “How do you know that it’s different? We all felt it, there was no feasible way to tell what, or who that vis originated from.” As she spoke, her fingers trailed gently along the scales of the licentia in her lap, bringing her mind to the thought of Torqueo. At the thought, she smiled faintly, her mind drifting to an imperceptibly strong licentia that she had met years before Crow.

As Crow rose from his seat, Yvette glanced up at him again, her eyes following him as he offered her a drink. “Something sweet, if you wouldn’t mind.” Her voice was soft as she responded, the effects of the memory leaving her sounding more warm than she usually did.

Sophia was quietly sitting in the corner of the room, having not spoken for the entirety of the meeting thus far, her bright blue eyes simply roving over the group as they spoke.

“Of course,” Crow said with a faint smile, turning his attention away from them. However, before he managed a response to her query, Nabriales spoke up.

"Resources are being dedicated to understanding what happened. I am conducting my own research when possible, and a close friend of mine is conducting his own far more thorough research! The thing that's bothering me is that your explanations for why a Licentia is likely not responsible make complete sense - I can't imagine any reason why a Licentia capable of such destruction wouldn't just come here and take the fight directly to its source if they were so inclined? Any Licentia powerful enough to do this would not come to Medius at all if they could help it, and they would want to end their business here equally as quickly... So it wasn't a Licentia! If not, what was it? What other beings could feasibly perform such a fear?" Nabriales interjected, seemingly fatigued by the notion of figuring out what was going on.

Nothing particularly made sense about the event at all - and when he thought about it, that was exceedingly strange. Surely Aismael and her cohorts should have said something about it by now? She was not the type of individual to allow the God-Queen's authority (and by extension her authority) to be challenged - and yet there was nothing from the Spire but a bitter chill in the air. If he didn't know better, Nabriales half expected her to know something about what was going on and the reason that she hadn't revealed it thus far was something particularly damning. Of course, this was all wild conjecture, but it would be a particularly good time to begin investigating the prae. He made a mental note to gather the most influential members of the Resistance and begin planning their operations in earnest.

"If none of us know anything, all that remains is for us is to... find out, I guess! Unfortunately, there's not a lot of finding out that I can do here, so I'll be joining my colleague in the lab. Let's get drinks later, though!" Nabri smiled, before obnoxiously poofing himself out of the room (along with his crystal flutes) and getting himself ready to go to the lab. He couldn't remember whether or not today was a come-to-the-lab-dressed-as-a-dragon day, so he decided to bring a shapeshifting potion with him to be prepared. Preparation was key.

Nodding his head to Nabri before he departed, Casaeri headed back to his chair, delivering the requested drinks on his way. Sitting down once more he took a sip from his own glass before setting it down and folding his hands across his lap. “Well, Yvette, I had not entirely intended to speak of it, but I managed to acquire... mmm samples of the vis from ground zero,” he shrugged and met her eyes, his gaze speaking of things to explain in greater detail later before he cast his gaze elsewhere.

Through his mind rushed possibilities and consequences. How would this affect business? At the thought one corner of his lips turned down almost imperceptibly. Yvette would likely be the only one to notice. Perhaps he ought to turn his mind to helping those he could...and discovering who knew what regarding the incident.

“Unless anyone has anything further to add, I do believe that the lot of us have things we could be doing to further our own ends and perhaps discover the reason behind what, for all intents, appears to be an unprovoked attack. Anyone?” He drank again, his eyes glancing between those present as he did so.

Yvette silently acknowledged Crow’s glance, and then set to drinking from the glass that he had set in front of her. It was clear she didn’t have anything else to add.

”I have two things to say, actually. First:” Without even finishing her statement, Naomi rose to her feet, walking straight over to the minibar--Crow’s prior offer was met with a raised finger in his direction, as if halting his reaction for a moment.
”I would never ask anyone to make what I’m about to make for me. I want all of you to judge me as I do this, because it is incredibly important.”
The drink began innocently enough. Peach schnapps. Really, really cheap peach schnapps.
This would become the running theme of the hellish concoction that began to take place inside the mug. Three parts peach schnapps, certainly. One part vodka--an okay choice, perhaps not the best.
Then, she moved to the fridge, pulling out an orange soda. She made eventual eye contact with every single person in the room as she poured two parts of the syrupy-sweet fizzy drink into her hellcup, as if daring them to respond.
Naomi immediately took a swig, pinkie customarily extended.
”Second,” she continued, completely unphased by the high fructose catastrophe that she’d just imbibed,
”I think it’s a fair bit more important to start spreading information as soon as possible. You say pretty resolutely that the vis is ‘all off,’ comma, ‘man,’ as in ‘the man’ because this ‘that sounded super hippie’ joke is getting way too far away from me and hshit did I put too much vodka in this?” Naomi looked at the bottle she’d just blind-poured into the cup.
110 proof.
She cracked a wry grin as her ears lay a little flatter with each passing moment.
”Heeeee. That was a mistake. Okay, so uh… Yeah. You’re sure that the vis was off, right? Well, sensational media ain’tn’t going to be following your tale, mate. Inquiring minds gotta know, right? So here’s the thing we’re going to need to do. Hey, Tall, Dark, and Poofy, you have unnecessary amounts of funds and an accountant with some personal problems, right? How much would it take to get some vis professionals on the air, already voir-dire-and-fine to go, making some points that paint licentia a little prettier?” Naomi’s hand gestures grew wider and wider as the sentence sprinted further and further away from her, to the point that--finally--Aldous smacked a stool clean into the wall.

”Hhhhfuck. I’ll clean that up. No--nope! He’ll clean that up. He looks like he wants to clean that up!” She looked to the bouncer, who was shaking his head more and more furiously as her finger directed itself towards him.

”Oh yeah speaking of, I have a third thing, uh…” Naomi downed the rest of the glass, like a true adult-to-be trying to seem like an adult while having never once heard the words “alcohol” and “restraint” in the same statement.

”Who’s taking me home?”

New Here

Welcome to the site, hope you enjoy your time here!

⊰Manifest Anima: Planes Divided⊱

The Aftermath - Part One

Arc II - Day 1 - 1:35AM
^{collab with: @yoshua171, @Celaira, @Tuujaimaa, and @CorrosiveCherry}

---

A harsh bloom of light against the backdrop of a dark sky and the roiling waves of the English Channel. The water boiled, steam rising from it and obscuring the sky. Even so the light of the tremendous blast remained, casting an ominous glow upon the horizon, coloring the sky a fierce, blinding white.

An invisible force rippled over the surface of the Channel until, with a sharp crack like a thousand bolts of lightning striking at once, the wave passed through Ominar. Waves broke against the coast, devouring much of the shipyard. Windows rattled in their frames, and by the sea, many outright shattered.

The earth shook. The air vibrated. Power winked out and did not return for a time. Then the wave passed them over, dissipating into the distance. The city was left with only devastation and silence.

2:15AM - 4:00AM

---

The first post was on Twitter. A picture of a mostly white backdrop, timestamped for the pitch of night. Three words captioned the image: “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
French, of course. ‘What is this?’
86 images followed. 17 were near ground zero.
46 of them had flesh among the shrapnel. 12 were traffic cameras. 6 were immediately wiped for violating Terms of Service.
The last 12 had emojis. Such as it was; not everyone understood the gravity of what they were seeing. The rumbling was merely an earthquake; the lights were fireworks, perhaps?
What they didn’t realize is the light was across the English Channel, not on the coast. What they didn’t realize is that it wasn’t fireworks. It was something altogether worse.

“Hey, what was that earthquake at like 2?”

“Has anyone seen Aimee DuPuis? She’s my girlfriend overseas. Please contact me if you have any info.”

“I swear that these military tests are getting shittier and shittier. We all need to defund this defense stuff somehow. War’s not the answer.”

“Guys. I think an Exeo just died.”
“Isn’t there a prae dignitary in Solhavre right now?”
“I think an Exeo might have just died.”

There it was. The beginning. The precipice of chaos, where a thousand digital voices scream out in agony, and then, the greatest, most terrible cacophony.

The first headline was perhaps the worst one. National Enquirer. Tabloid.

”PRAE EXEO DEAD: LICENTIA TO BLAME?”

Plastered right on their Facebook. Ruralites were the first to read it, as they always were. They chomped on the sensationalism and ran with it.
“These Polly cunts can’t be trusted. #I’mwithSolhavre”

“Who the fuck do licentia think they are? You can’t kill people and get away with it. Vampires. #I’mwithSolhavre”

“My best friends are Prae. I haven’t seen them. They’re probably fucking terrified and hiding from those god damn nackie fucks. #SolhavPrae”

“#SolhavPrae.”

And lo--the rallying call, in no time at all. It trended before the sunrise, and it spread like wildfire in the morning dew.

The news flickered dully on the television screen as the morning coffee brewed. A fresh pot. It was a necessary evil, at 4 in the morning. Of course, Naomi had been awake for an hour by that point, and she’d been watching. Rapt attention.

---

Central Ominar - 1:34AM

Uptown and southwest of the coast outside a quiet 24 hour cafe, two well-dressed figures sat at a small table. The night sky was prominent above them, though the stars were lost amidst the light pollution of the city. The man of the pair placed a card down on the table, but said nothing, his eyes on his female companion, expectant. However, before she could respond, his eyes flickered, a bright luminescence pouring from them in a brief flash.

A ripple passed through the air. He stood and turned, facing the northeast. His gaze seeming to pierce through the natural obstructions in the city to gaze upon the coast.

Vis everywhere was flowing in that direction, pulled by an unseen force. “Brace yourself,” he warned, though he knew that she would feel it too.

She might notice the consistency of his body become somehow more solid. Denser. The air around him continued to ripple and form eddies of faint blue light and shadow, locked in a dance.

As her companion rose from his seat, the woman’s sienna colored eyes glanced from him to the sky. She felt something not-so-gently tugging on her vis. As the flash--no, the plume of light filled the night’s sky, she too rose from her chair. “Crow. What’s happening?” Her voice was soft, a lilt of winter dancing through it as she questioned the man.

Swiftly, the calm night air was burned away by the tremendous bloom of light. Crow stared, shaking his head. “I’m not sure,” he replied. Deep within, yet far away, something stirred. He swallowed and--tentatively--drew on the well of power. To Yvette the dance of vis about him would flare and then expand outwards, forming complex patterns. Half turning towards her, eyes intense, his hand touched the side of the metal table and pushed. It was thrown, clear across the street and he used its absence to close the distance between them, his left arm raising, fingers splayed. The dancing field of vis solidified, he braced himself, placing his other hand on her shoulder. She found herself locked in place before a powerful blast shook the street and set the air a quiver. They remained standing by virtue of Crow’s vis.

For several minutes the ground shook and the air with it, though the shockwave dissipated far more swiftly. Miles away, closer to the unseen coast, he heard glass patter against the ground. A hunger stirring after roughly five minutes of waiting, defenses up, he cut off the flow of vis from the depths and let go of Yvette, pulling away slightly.

As the table between them flew across the street, Yvette glanced up at Crow. He had closed the distance between them, vis rolling off of him in intricate waves. She watched him calmly as his hand fell on her shoulder, locking her into place, his other stretched out in front of them. She could just barely see the half dome vis shield he’d put up around them as the shockwave hit it. Though, he had protected them from the push of the wave, some of the harsh wind still managed to get passed his barrier, causing the precursor’s silken white hair to lash out behind her.

The ground beneath them shook violently, and Yvette watched as small cracks burst forth from the concrete. Thankfully, it looked like the cafe, and other buildings around them weren’t suffering the same fate as the street, though she could clearly see lights begin to flicker. Once the quake stopped, and Crow finally stepped away, Yvette took a moment to survey the area of the city they were in. The lights in most--if not all--of the buildings were out.

After a moment or two of silence, Yvette spoke, “What... was that.”

He wasn’t sure and that was a disturbing thought for a man who dealt in information.

---

The brisk air of Solhavre's port was in great contrast to the sky looming above it, hundreds of floating lanterns giving the sky the illusion of being a canvas in some artist's painting of a refulgent starscape. Fandaniel si Louviere looked up at the glimmering lights with no small amount of admiration, taking in the beauty of the scene in a rare moment of reflection and introspection. She had travelled from Valence up to Paris, and from Paris to Solhavre, in her journey towards Ominar, and she had done it subtly, a manner largely unbefitting her rigidly lawful nature - and as she found herself drew back into her thoughts, she smiled beneath the cloak and hood she had donned to keep her from both the cold and from plain sight. She had picked an unfortunate night to travel discreetly - with the visiting dignitary from Priscus - but her plans could not be delayed any further. As she attempted to (extremely obviously, unfortunately) keep herself to herself, she made a note to check the time on her phone. 01:03, November 7th, 2054.

It has been a long time coming, she reasoned with herself. They won't stop--none of them--until they win. With each of us that dies, victory slips further away.

The words thrummed in her mind like a furious rhythm, the staccato of their meaning hammering away at her relentlessly. She had only realised that she had felt this way for years until she had seen, and it had taken no small amount of loss for her to peel away the veneer of righteousness that had occluded her sight. The Louviere family had to change, or they were all lost. Even with the thirteen Scions, there was no way that they co--

And then the blasting of horns and a metallic voice across a tannoy slammed her into the waking world once more. "Le bateau 01:15 de Solhavre à Ominar partira sous peu. Veuillez présenter votre carte d'embarquement à la porte. The 01:15 boat from Solhavre to Ominar will be departing shortly. Please present your boarding pass at the gate."

She had to admit that English still struck her as a little odd. She knew the language - intimately - but it was a recollection that wasn't quite hers. She felt like someone else had borrowed the space inside her head where languages were kept and was seamlessly transitioning between her mother tongue of French and English whenever she heard either language. It had never been particularly odd to her until she heard both spoken in rapid succession. The moment of confusion was enough to get her going, though, and she boarded the boat without incident. At 01:15 exactly, the boat left the harbour and Fandaniel waved the soil of her country goodbye, for a time.

The sailing was smooth, without incident. Despite the chill, there was very little in the way of wind and the vessel barely broke the glassine water. The floating lanterns illuminated only the surface of the sable sea, mere impressions of light, and the bitter chill of early spring cut through the illusion of warmth provided by the airborne display. A small smile crept across her face as she leaned onto the railing, taking in a deep breath. Moments of introspection were a rarity she seldom had the time or inclination to enjoy--though this once, it had been nice. She thought about her daughter, who was set to meet her in Ominar after many years apart. She thought about the Taeryn family, who she would have to find and convince to help her. And as she thought of those things, she ticked them off of a mental list and instead decided to focus on the journey.

Fifteen minutes in, Fandaniel could sense something was wrong. Not only could she feel the ambient vis being wrenched towards Solhavre, but the same instincts that guided her in battle screamed danger. Every sense blared at her to get away from the port city, and though it had visibly hit her first the same realisation dawned upon the other passengers promptly. The air felt like the calm before the storm, charged with some unseen force of agitation, and then in an instant it exploded. Fandaniel's perception became nothing but white fire, and it was through instinct alone that she brought up a massive shield of her vis to shield the vessel she was travelling on from the initial wave of force. A few seconds later, the explosion hit and rattled the shield severely, before breaking cleanly through with much diminished force. The heat and the force knocked most of the passengers cleanly onto their backs, and the tannoy of the vessel blared loudly with warnings to everyone to get to shelter within.

The flames had mostly gone around the vessel by the time Fandaniel's vision returned to normal, and as soon as she could see again she leaned over the side of the railing and looked towards Solhavre. She watched the city vanish into the inky depths below, and quickly turned to assess the damage in Ominar. Solhavre was simply gone--she could save none there--but there were people in Ominar who would surely need assistance. Her thoughts turned to Yvette, and she waited for the boat to arrive to properly assess the damage.

The boat's arrival at the crumbling cluster of debris sinking into the sea was fairly swift. Fandaniel's shield had only saved the boat from the very worst of the impact, and though it was structurally intact enough to have sailed them to Ominar without joining Solhavre beneath the waves, it was very clearly in a state of disrepair. Still, as Fandaniel surveyed the area she had gotten to disembark from the boat to, she noted that it was markedly more intact than the infrastructure. Any part of the port that had actually been in water was simply gone--no trace of it having existed remained at all--and even the vis in the air felt cloying with smoke and heat, and just a tinge of something sweetly pungent. The unloading and loading bays had suffered the brunt of the force that had actually made it to land, and piles of twisted metal and odd bits and pieces of no longer recognisable goods were splayed out across the concrete like the blood from a wound. There were clear and distinct trails of detritus into the ocean, which filled the area with a gentle hissing sound, sputtering like too-hot oil in a pan. The destruction lessened as Fandaniel wove her way inland, crossing broken slabs of asphalt which once comprised the roads with the trained ease of one used to cleaning up battlefields. Many buildings at this point were only superficially scarred, grey scorch marks coating the walls like ivy, but there were clear cracks in the older buildings, and shattered glass welcomed the shaken residents of the buildings like a carpet.

There were, remarkably, very few actual casualties. Those on the docks had likely died instantly, and the majority of the force that would have killed the rest was cushioned by the stacks upon stacks of cargo. Those injured had already been taken care of by the emergency authorities--who had most of the area remarkably under wraps, considering the damage to the roads--and people were scrambling enough to not notice one woman sprinting her way through the haze of the smoke and the remnants of the blinding white light that had accompanied the initial explosion. The power lines had been damaged--badly--and the buildings would require extensive repairs to get back to their old selves, but Ominar looked considerably better than Solhavre, that much was certain. Rather than check her phone to see where Yvette was (figuring that service in the area would be unreliable at best), Fandaniel extended her senses into the surrounding vis. Sensing a fellow Scion came to her as naturally as breathing, and it took her very little time to find the shining light of her daughter's vis in her extrasensory periphery--along with a notably darker and denser presence. She had allies, it would seem, and that was something to be thankful of.

5:53 AM, Ominar Harbor

---

There was a boulder in the street. Not just any old boulder; it was a cobbling of mortar and brick that had so decided that, in the clamor of terror and chaos, that it would, in fact, decide to take a nap in that very spot.

Which, of course, proved difficult for the passers-by, among whom happened to be Ominar’s public services, ranging from a small train of ambulances to a fire engine that looked about as red as its driver’s face.

In the din of confusion among the bevy of trucks and cars, some had decided to attempt to persuade this boulder, suggesting it should find a new place to come to rest.

’But no, Ser Boulder, you cannot simply rest here; we’ve all jobs to do, and you are impeding our progress,’ implored their arms, pressed intimately up to its rocky surface. ’We really would have preferred that you had stayed up on your building, for it is truly worrying at our patience,’ added the magitech that some of the specialists were carrying.

But, of course, the boulder would not listen. It was a boulder, and it had no ears.

Until Naomi showed up, ticker-tackering away on her phone, ears and tail whicker-winding this way and that as she bobbed and weaved between the maze of metal and men. One unlucky fellow caught a faceful of fur, leading to a staccato of coughing and sputtering.

“Shit! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Noted Nao, briefly looking up from her screen to catch a glimpse of her surroundings. It was then that she realized that Google Maps was really quite incapable of properly measuring recent events, as the road had looked perfectly fine on the screen.

But lo, there it was. The infamous boulder.

Thankfully, however, Naomi had come prepared. Hecatoncheires, 20 strong, floated around her, softly orbiting around Aldous and George, those massive hands she was never seen without.

Her fingers went limp, phone held by the barest grip. Springing to a sudden, alert sort of life, Hecatoncheires began to assemble itself before her, clicking into place as she watched the colored dots fit into the patterns she knew so well. In moments, there was a finished assembly, a rune she’d only recently memorized for this specific occasion.

And, of course, this rune was very persuasive, specifically to earless boulders. It did not cause the boulder to rupture and explode, nor anything with nearly so much aplomb; it simply punched a hole cleanly through it, with one long, perfectly cylindrical rod--save for either end, which maintained the shape of the boulder’s outer edges--sloughing off and onto the ground.

Nao would perform this magic no less than fourteen times until the boulder realized it was, in fact, no longer a boulder, and conceded the point. She quickly used her two massive palms to roll the fourteen logs of sandstone off onto the sidewalk, creating a single lane of egress for the hapless workers.

”Excuse the mess! I’m glad I happened by, honestly. You guys would’ve been at it for hours without some sort of specialist.

...Or at least an actual magitech drill. I don’t think blasting rods are quite meant for this sort of labor.”

She was met by a loud throng of cheering as soon as her work was done, and the dull throttling of engines roaring to life. Naomi, herself, had convinced one of the policemen to let her ride in the passenger seat, quickly killing two birds with one stone.

Riding in the passenger seat of a cop car was one of her bucket list items, and she also didn’t want to pay for an Uber. (”Their rates are insane right now because of the harbor thing,” she noted, in the process of persuading the officer.)

The rest of the drive was quiet, almost sober, as the two of them drove through the now-ruined parts of town. It was dead outside, but as they grew nearer and nearer to the portside, signs of life began to appear. People of every cut of cloth--prae, licentia, human--were all congregating, working with each other to fix the damage that had so recently occurred. It certainly wasn’t without its spats, however. Prae and licentia, specifically, could be seen arguing in the streets, and some had even come to blows--which the officer was forced to handle. Nao, realizing her welcome had become overstayed, trudged out towards the beach in the hopes of finding her own locals to interrogate--preferably ones that didn’t want to punch her in the face. Looking the way she did at a time like this, however, Naomi couldn’t hardly blame them.

It would be at the beachside that she found her ‘local.’ However, it wasn’t Ominar that this specific person hailed from.

The woman’s sober face looked like someone had smeared sulfur on her upper lip twenty years ago, and her face had just stuck that way.

”Hey,” she began, maneuvering around the debris--anyone who was still among the rubble, so close to what was once Solhavre, was worth speaking to.

”Do, uh… Y’come here often? Fuck, I’m sorry. That’s terrible. Let me restart.”
Naomi strolled up towards the new face.

”I’m Naomi, your friendly neighborhood visual disruption. You seem awfully alone out here. Do you need someone to...”

A vague feeling of recollection hit Naomi like a sleeping boulder hitting the pavement.

”What--Miss Louviere. Oh, fuck, you’re Miss Louviere. From the house meetings.”

A beat followed as Naomi’s stomach dropped cleanly into her bladder.

“Hi, uh, it’s--Nao. Chāyì-Popjay. How, uh…”

“How are you holding up?”

Fandaniel didn't break her attempt to stare down the still-smouldering ruin that had once stood among the cliffs across the water. She mourned its loss wordlessly and expressionlessly, and gave thought to the events that had led up to it. She'd been thinking about it for hours, and she was still no closer to working out the how or the why - and as Nao began speaking, her reminiscence took a different path through her memory. She didn't recognise the voice, exactly, but she certainly recognised something. The feel of their vis, more than anything, but was drawing a blank when it came to a name, or a face, or anything other than the fact that they were a Precursor. Then, as soon as she spoke the name Nao, the recollection hit her like a falling boulder and brought her back to reality.

"You seem more comfortable now that you are free of their clutches." she replied, fondly remembering the fierce defiance with which she had acted during all of the House meetings she'd been part of. Fandaniel found them tedious in the extreme, and the presence of one who so palpably did not want to adhere to years of useless doctrine had intrigued her--given her something to consider that wasn't the tedium of talking and talking and talking.

"Good. You deserve better." she stated matter-of-factly, ignoring any of Nao's attempts to turn the conversation towards her, before turning slightly to get a good look at Nao's face. She cracked the beginning of a smile, her lips turning ever-so-slightly at the corners, before returning to her preternaturally dour and solemn look.

"Come. You should meet my daughter and her... associate. The Taeryns-" she nodded curtly to the west, where Nabriales and Sophia Taeryn could very vaguely be seen in the distance coordinating efforts among the authorities "-are also here. We will be discussing a plan of action soon."

And with that she walked off towards the location of Yvette and Crow, regardless of whether or not Nao was following.

There was a slow intake of breath, and then the chirp of a high pitched voice as Sophia called out orders to the team she had been put in charge of. Her bright blue eyes gleamed with purpose, her vis trailing out from her body in spirals as she created platforms for workers to set debris on. As detritus was piled on to the platforms, she moved them out of the way. In the air, to the upper left of her head there were three 9m x 9m vis constructs piled high with rubble.

Whilst she worked, she glanced in the direction of Nao and Fandaniel. From the distance, she simply addressed their presence with a curt nod. It would likely be evident to them that she was using this work to keep her mind off of other things.

Fate/akashic writhe [A High Casual adventure--Great for people new to the series!]

Interest!

(sheathes katana-pistol) How do you do?

Welcome to the Guild. I'm sure you'll find plenty of things that suit your needs! :)

Nice Futaba pic btw. @Quincunx

Hello.

@Makino Welcome to the Guild! I hope you find something you like. <3

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Still searchin'!

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Bump!