Tenrou Team - The Magi's story: Shadow of the Past
Direct interaction: @MarshiestMallow
As the dust settled, Ferrin stared at Mavis with something dangerously resembling awe from the usually unflappable wizard. Of course. It has been over two hundred years. She had plenty of time to perfect Law since I last saw her. And here I was hoping I would be the first to figure it out. ...hey, daemon. Did you get that?" A multilayed, disharmonic voice, like dozens of different people speaking just out of sync echoed in his head.
[b]Of course. You may analyze it at your leisure.[b] After a pause it added begrudgingly. I'm...surprised. I never expected to see a human use it. Its potential is...well, not one that should be in the hands of mortals.
Ferrin cocked his head. But you will let me study it?
Of course. I abide by my word. It almost sounded offended. I would do nothing about it anyway. I am no god to decide what should or not be. It is simply dangerous. Like... Ferrin felt it shift though his mind for an appropriate simile.
"Like a toddler with sword." Ferrin finished for it, speaking aloud with a quiet sigh.
Mhm. A flaming sword.
I will...bear that in mind. We can compare notes later, but for now, conserve your power. I have a feeling I will be needing it before all is said and done here.
The being receded and Ferrin shook himself out of his reverie. A headache had crept up on him while he was standing there, and now his head was pounding away: thump thump thump. He ignored it as spared a glance at the scorched sand and broken ice where Zeref had stood. No sign of him now and not even Ferrin's wizardly senses could feel him. However..."This island stinks." He muttered, wrinkling his nose. He could still vaguely sense that something was wrong, and his mind interpreted it as a foul stench lingering just on the edge of smell. Logic said there was no way Zeref was still alive, but Ferrin's instincts told him they haven't seen the last of him. You don't live as a dark wizard for over two centuries without having some powerful tricks up your sleeve. Ferrin almost wished he could have a talk with the man. Pity they met as enemies.
Raising his head and his voice, he called out to everyone: "Do not let your guards down! We are not safe just yet. Those of you with healing talents or magic, tend to the wounded. If you still have a good amount of stamina left, form a rough perimeter and be extra careful to guard the spent and the wounded. We do not want to get surprised again." For that reason, he didn't dismiss Shiden either. Paranoia had kept him a live this long, he saw no reason to dismiss it now. He made a quick count and sighed in relief as he found everyone was accounted for. We were too lucky.
He was limping slightly as he made his way over to the newcomers. He studied each in turn, the six former dragons, the mysterious cloaked person in a mask, who was now just standing quietly and staring off into the distance, and the swordsman who randomly dropped out of the sky mid-fight. Oh and Mavis. He noted the Fairy Tail guild mark prominently displayed on the shoulders of three of the six former dragons. If he had to guess, they were all dragon slayers, if the feel of the pink-haired one's magic was any indication. Powerful ones too. He still felt uncomfortably warm just from the feel of that one's magic. Two bore guild marks he didn't recognize and the sixth, a dangerous-looking man missing an eye, had none that he could see. He studied the masked person--only to find that it was staring at him. Creepy. He shot back with his best glare. He tried to gauge how dangerous they were. They may have helped fight the Black Wizard, but the enemy of one's enemy isn't always a friend. None of them seemed to be aggressive now, but that didn't mean anything. He knew nothing about where their loyalties lay, and that put him on edge. Still, if they did attack, they would have to deal with every wizard here, which was a small comfort.
He stopped next to Mavis as the small group gathered around the former dragons, and he listened in to Sasha with an unreadable expression.
"You cast Law." He said. A statement, not a question. He shook his head. "And they accuse me of being reckless. I wonder who I could have learned it from."
A memory of the past flashed in his mind.
Ferrin, being the inquisitive kid with more magical talent then sense that he was, had managed to uncover the spell Law, among others and secretly began practicing. However, Mavis caught him before he was able to crack it. After a very thorough chewing out, in a quiet voice, she explained the dangers of the spell and what it had cost her, stunting her growth. After that, she made him promise that he would never attempt to cast that spell.
He was sure she still remembered the incident.
He sighed. "Though I'm sure you've had time to perfect the spell, and things turned out all right, I feel obliged to remind you that it was still a damn fool thing to do." Not that he had room to throw stones.
His gaze softened a bit as he looked over the dragonslayers, now knowing some of their story. Waking up with all that you knew and loved suddenly gone. That he could sympathize with. But he had no words to alleviate their pain. Mavis suggested returning them, and one could all but hear a vein pop on Ferrin. He glanced askance at Patrick. "Yeah, Timmy. Why don't you make yourself useful and return those that don't belong here to their own time. Or is messing with people and putting them in danger all you are good for?" Ferrin had noticed that Time Lord's interference only made things worse for those who had tried to rush Zeref, and he made sure to sink that barb deep. He wasn't interested in the sappy feels that were going around.
Behind him, the masked figure had inexplicably moved to stand on his shadow and was standing unnaturally still, staring at it's feet, it's head tilted to the side. It didn't make a sound. Now that it was still, one could make out a faint curve of chest underneath the ragged, dirty cloak, suggesting that the person in there was female. The mask, which might to have been a masterly crafted piece once, was as dirty and ragged as the cloak, with cracks spiderwebbing across it. Both looked to be very old. Of the person, only her hands could be seen, peeking out from her sleeves: her hands were pale, almost white, and long, unkept, dirty fingernails topped each of her fingers. A few stands of midnight-black hair poked out from under her hood, blending in with the shadow it cast. Her own shadow was notably darker then it should be, and eerily, would sometimes move independently of her or lag behind her movements.