At first, the only response to Kana’s question was silence- well as close as one could feasibly get to silence with all the crackling of flames and earth-trembling bursts and shouting of innocents and Blessed alike. Then there came the faintest of flutters from the depths of the nearby alley, the click of heels against pavement, and a young boy came strolling into sight, a shy smile on his face. As if he had been caught with his hands in the cookie jar, and was readying himself to mumble out an apology.
It did nothing to temper down the dark, almost hungry look in his eyes, however. A sweet face could only do so much to hide the true nature of the Yggdrasil dragon, after all.
“I suppose that you could call it that, Miss Kana.” Nidhoggr, or, rather, Gael spoke softly, joining the serpent against the wall. “I had come here to watch, mostly. But I suppose that a meal wouldn’t be out of the question, either.” He watched the scamper of activity in and out of the house, although his gaze was focused on one person in particular. A dark haired young man, charging into the depths of the burning house after a rather athletic looking blond.
And then flames burst from the windows, blossoming outwards like the petals of a wildflower. Bits and pieces of flesh and meat flew outwards, propelled by the blast, and, lifting his head, Gael could catch sight of Volkir’s remains as they rose and splattered across the cement.
Gael’s face seemed to brighten considerably, and he began to bounce a little on his heels, curls bobbing with the movement. In another time, another place, perhaps the sudden...excitement? impatience? might have come across as endearing. “That one,” he said. “He murdered his parents years ago in cold blood. Their deaths meant nothing to him.” There would be the matter of waiting for the rest of his number to disperse, of course- a lone child arriving to pick over a corpse would do little but arouse suspicion- but patience was a virtue. Gael could wait. He steadied himself, drew a pair of lollipops from his pocket, and offering one to Kana, unwrapped the other and corked it into his mouth. Cherry-flavored.
“Did you come to watch as well, Miss Kana? It’s certainly proved itself to be quite the entertainment.”
@Kuroakuma
To say that things “weren’t going well” would have been a severe understatement.
There was the sharp crack of concrete somewhere off to the side, and Dawn turned just in time to see Amity- the last piece their team had needed to be whole again- charging into the now-burning house, face twisted into an animalistic snarl. She had just enough time to call out “Wait, Amity-” before the woman swung out of sight, two others on her tail. Volkir and Silvarae.
Thankfully, despite the rapid disintegration of the team, the civilians seemed to be making it out safe- escorted away from the worst of it by Clifton and co. With the most pressing concern out of the way, Dawn turned towards Makorai to respond.
The sound of the blast drowned out whatever sound she might have made.
Dawn’s head snapped back around, eyes wide with alarm. There was the distinctively organic slap of meat against cement, of bone snapping. Mutely, she looked from the charring ruins of the house to the pavement surrounding her.
The body of the strange, pale young man from before lay in a steadily creeping pool of crimson, the white of his skull just barely visible beneath the tangle of hair and exposed brain.
And a leg. A boot.
“Oh dear gods.” The words came out in a low whisper. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a body. It wasn’t the first time she had seen ones that were...fresh, either. But that hardly detracted from the fact that it was only mere minutes- seconds- ago that they had been talking. Moving. Alive.
Dawn sank her teeth into the soft wall of her cheek, forcing herself to look away, give Isa a nod before facing Makorai. She chose not to focus too much on the pale pink ice that now made up the house’s foundation- for now, at least. “Shake me if we need to move,” she said. With that, her eyes glazed over, and her rune glowed beneath her sleeve. Her fingers tightened unconsciously around her gun.
From inside the house, the Jotun would suddenly hear the shrill cry of tires against pavement, followed by shouts and cries of warning- then, soon enough, footfall rumbling its way inside the house and towards the kitchen. Looking outside would only yield the sight of scores of armored trucks parked outside, and if she waited, it wouldn’t take long for the “soldiers” to burst into the room.
With any luck, that would encourage the Jotun to leave.
@Magister@VitoftheVoid
Madison watched with anxious eyes as three of the Runes charged into the shuddering building, hand open and extended as if he had half a mind to charge after and grab them before they could get any farther. “Stop, please!” His shout fell on deaf ears, and, taking one step forward, he shook his head and went instead to aid Clifton in helping the survivors get to safety. Trying to go after them now was a lost cause.
One of the escapees was a young man, limping as fast as possible away from the scene, but visibly struggling. A long, grisly burn crawled along the side of his left leg. Madison rushed over, tucking his shoulder beneath the man’s arm, and, murmuring reassurances, began to lead him away as fast as he could manage. They were only a few feet away from the truck when the sudden burst of an explosion caused the man to stumble, and Madison to look over his shoulder, lips parted in a silent gasp.
The house was in ruins. Even from where he stood, Madison could see that the explosion had easily taken out most of the building. He could see the lone torso of Miss Silvarae lying on the ground, swords still attached to its back. He could see the blur of movement as another, dark-headed body was flung away like a ragdoll.
Two.
Two out of three.
Madison swallowed thickly, shutting his eyes for a moment before turning away. “Come on,” he said, softly, sitting the man down. Miss Silvarae. Mr. Volkir. He had spoken to both on occasion, had hoped to come to know them with time, and now…
Drawing a small pocket knife from his purse, he cut away some of the fabric from the man’s wound, taking in just how deep the burns were. The muscle was quite clearly visible, ringed and charred with blackened flesh. The knife was swiftly tucked away, replaced by clipboard and pen. Madison’s fingers sketched down a familiar pattern- the rune of Laguz, the healer- then lightly tapped it, pointing it towards the gentleman and causing it to glow softly.
Slowly, soft, baby pink began to creep over the burning red, and the man audibly sighed in relief. It wasn’t a perfect job, but it would let him move without too much trouble.
From the corner of his eye, Madison could see more survivors making their way towards the truck, some of which bearing injuries as bad- if not worse- than his patient. Nails digging into his clipboard, he walked briskly over to Morgan and place a gentle hand upon his shoulder.
“Morgan.” Tears were running down the boy’s cheeks. Madison gave him a squeeze, eyes sober. “I...I’m sorry, Mr. Sydnous. But I need your help.” He gestured behind him, towards the wounded. “I can’t heal them all by myself. I need you to attend to those with more life-threatening injuries. Do you think you could do that?” Madison waited a few moments before returning to the crowds, kneeling beside an older woman. Her arm was bent in the entirely wrong places, and she was clutching it and howling.
His heart ached for the boy. But as unfortunate as it was, the situation allowed them little time to mourn. Not now, at least.
@GoodLuckTuck
Member
