Lewascan2

Royal Rumble: Rumble over the Heavens

Chinami Nadakai

With her resolve solidified, the desk of the room she lurked within swiftly yielded a sheet of notepaper. Smiling, Chinami returned to the center of the room and crouched down, her Spirit leaving a single foot extended up to her floor while continuing to keep watch of the lower. Placing the paper in physical contact with her Spirit, Chinami exhaled another bead of the stress she'd been carrying all day, as a multitude of visions bloomed before her again.

Humming near-inaudibly to herself, the Goth browsed carefully for the version of the paper that she desired, a version where she had written a personalized note to Dr. Nightman, a note that would thoroughly convey her unwavering position. As she did so and the meeting continued below, she slowly whittled the options down, word by word, idealizing her choice as much as possible. Eventually, she found it, and a quick twice over of the contents got her stamp of approval.

The Letter

To whom it may concern, one Doctor Nightman,

Perhaps if you know as much as you claim to know about me, then you can discern some method by which this missive was delivered. And if you are as intelligent as I have come to credit you for, then you can easily discern from whom this missive originates. Regardless, for the sake of a veneer of anonymity, I shall not be "naming any names", as it were. It might seem as though I am going to entirely unnecessary lengths for this transcription, but I assure you, provided context, nothing could be further from the truth.

I should assert, first and foremost, that my past is one I am quite eager to leave behind me. Rather, it is truer to say I have long since done so. My childhood was, to say the least, not ideal. I grew up too fast and understood the world in terms no child ever should. However, in a cruel irony, that rapid evolution is the only thing that let me survive. Regardless, the objective trauma I experienced left very little impact on me, but perhaps that is a concern of its own. So, indeed, while I can acknowledge that what one may find in perusing such events is troublesome to the extreme, I can also assert firmly that such things have no bearing on the me of today. Whether it be by divine or demonic blessing, I have always possessed an iron will, one I have used to overcome all such obstacles and rejoin proper society.

I am aware that the life I lived back then was unideal, and even in that time, I strove to escape it. So, you must understand, to have that life that I have gone to exceptional lengths to bury brought to light... and to threaten my prosperity -to not respect my freedom of choice- even after I have made my position abundantly clear? It has made me very angry, to the point that I almost did something I would likely regret, and it is the primary reason that I shall not be meeting you personally in any capacity if I can help it. To be clear, I am not threatening you. No, such irrationality is beneath my goals. What are those goals? Simple.

To live a peaceful and productive civilian life.

If you know me as well as you imply, then you may already know that, but it should be emphasized that there is nothing in this world that I value more than that goal. I am being entirely serious, without hyperbole. To that end, regardless of any methods I might use or any perceptions to the contrary, so long as they fall within the bounds of societal and legal norms, is it not my right to live as I see fit? This is why I have no intention of complying with your office under any circumstances, and I will not allow my way of life to be judged or altered by the impudent.

I will go to whatever lengths I must to preserve the quiet life I deserve. You have threatened my schooling, a vital core to obtaining that life. If you have the sway to browbeat Kiburi's, then my legal path is clear. Effective immediately, I shall be tendering my transfer to Mephisto's, as for better or worse, I know that the likes of your office cannot reach me there. Feel free to attempt to call my bluff, but the reality is that I am calling yours. This will be done regardless of whatever steps you take next, regardless of whether you choose to desist from following through with your threat. I have no intention of wasting time and energy being worried about a looming possibility, fighting pointless legal battles or leaving things to chance. Instead, I shall do as I always have and take fate into my own hands.

Perhaps, I am blowing things out of proportion. This is a fair possibility. But I have found it is much more efficient to avoid any obstacle I cannot easily overcome outright. And if I cannot avoid them? Hold nothing back. I genuinely hope this is the last we hear of either of each-other and wish you the best in your efforts with those that actually need and accept them.

Sincerely, an inconvenienced someone who's rather miffed by the egregious invasion of privacy.

Yes, this one would do nicely. She allowed the transformation process to pause, holding off on applying it, as she intended to enforce a change of location as well with this same usage, hopefully placing the letter in a place the doctor would notice.

Refocusing her attention on the room below, Chinami noted with some unease the slumped form of the brunet boy. That was... odd. Her Spirit squinted its enhanced vision at the boy, as her gut clenched uncomfortably. He was asleep. What? Everything she'd seen about this boy thus-far had indicated he was the type to stay fairly wired, especially after that confrontation. She'd barely focused her attention away for a minute or two to conserve energy, and yet, he was somehow pacified? Where had all that energy gone?!

Chinami's thoughts raced along at an accelerated pace in the face of her alarm, as Doctor Nightman stood and seemingly checked on the boy, before heading towards the door. Even if she wasn't paying direct attention, her Spirit still fully committed what it experienced to her own memory, and what it had seen minutes ago was the Doctor leading the boy through something he referred to as "guided meditation"... something that apparently worked with genuinely unnatural speed. As far as she knew, people that atagonistic and high-energy did not take to meditation so easily!

Fuck, the Doctor did have a Gift... likely a mental one. It made too much sense. Even if it weren't being used maliciously, it made way too much sense for a therapist to have something like that. If he'd been around as long as he claimed, then the odds were frankly quite low that he had survived without one while talking to so many volatile people with his current highly invasive -near directly antagonistic- manner of drawing them to him. Such a Gift was frankly way too useful, way too appropriate for his line of work.

Something was wrong. Or was it? Chinami didn't know anymore, but her instincts -or perhaps paranoia- were screaming at her. Swallowing thickly, Chinami shook her head. No, it didn't matter. All she had to do was deliver the letter and exfiltrate. She didn't have room to worry about other people right now, and besides, perhaps she had misjudged the sleeping boy in her analysis. Perhaps he was experienced with meditation. Maybe he'd come here while already exhausted and stressed; it would certainly explain his irrational behavior. Whatever the case, it wasn't her problem.

As Nightman opened the door, Chinami allowed the transformation to complete, the letter taking its new form for the next three hours and placing itself in the Doctor's pocket. Immediately, alarm bells were sounding in her head, as the Doctor reached for his pocket with almost prescient precision, withdrawing the letter no more than a moment after its placement. On the one hand, she had expected perhaps the appearance of the letter's bulk might alert him or the crinkling sound of it in time with his movements, but the way he reacted-!

Yeah, fuck this.

As she began to retract her Spirit fully back to her side, things got even worse. A cold hand of dread took hold of the Goth's heart, as Nightman turned and focused his eyes unerringly upon the position she resided on the floor above. A mental Gift with a sensory aspect?! He was addressing her directly now. No names had been used, but she had every reason to suspect he knew exactly who she was! Even through her raw panic, something about his words nearly stupefied her with indignity. "Voyerism?" Her Spirit voiced aloud in disbelief. "Privacy?" it all but spat at Nightman, only its head still extending to the room below. "You're one to talk. The well between us has already been irreversibly poisoned by your arrogance," it hissed, as Chinami squeezed her eyes shut to suppress the fresh swell of fury at the hypocrisy, her very soul voicing some of the anger she could normally withhold. She'd already switched gears to a more peaceful resolution; if she switched tracks again now and impulsively acted on emotion, she'd go even further over the line than she'd originally planned! "And on that note, no, I don't think we will."

Chinami startled, as the door to her hiding place opened in time with the retraction of her Spirit. She'd let her guard down! Immediately rectifying that state of affairs with the extension of her soul protectively enveloping her body, the Goth inwardly seethed, as her heart pounded in freshly renewed fear. Indeed, in the face of a man that almost had to possess a mental Gift to be where he was today, the very prospect of being anywhere near him... of him potentially rifling through her head and messing with who she was... It suddenly filled Chinami with a genuine mortal, existential terror that swept through her body, practically stealing her breath away.

It was good that she was already crouching on all-fours, because if she had been standing, the shivers that abruptly made her body subtly tremble might have put her there. She could barely perceive the voice of the new man in the suit, as her heart thundered in her ears. But through her Spirit's own uncompromising awareness... she comprehended enough. She- She wasn't a patient! Fury intermingled with her fear, as her abruptly wounded Pride flushed her system clean enough to act. She hadn't lost sight of her goal, and right now, that was to escape!

To her accelerated vision alone, it was as if dozens of ghosts of her true body took form within the room... all too many of them impulsively taking violent actions, presumably against the man who had entered. Really, all that emphasized for her was just how on edge she already knew she was, that so many of her possibilities were resorting to violence so quickly. But several were in various stages of heading backwards towards the window...

Damn it all.

She'd miscalculated badly, and there was no way to retrieve the letter now without undue risk. The Doctor knew she could teleport things now. Rather, if the speed of his awareness and likely mental Gift were any clue, he'd have to be an ignoramus not to. In that case, there was no point in concealing the ability from his possible subordinate. The worst person possible to find out in this building already had. All that said, there was absolutely no reason for her to continue to allow him to change the game on her.

Chinami reached out to those possibilities of herself, of the other hers that had ignored all this nonsense and risk and stayed home for the day, safely in her room. Even without being able to see the location, she was familiar enough with it, with the feeling of the potential changes she could manifest there. She reached out for the shade of herself, connected it to her current existence and made to fuse with her choice.

@KillamriX88 @Letter Bee @Dezuel

Grimoiric Heart

<Snipped quote by Lewascan2>

Funnily, I have the exact opposite mindset, I think there are a bit too many magical girl (and isekai) rps on here.

I mean, I love mahou shoujo, but not everyone is me, more variety is always healthier for the site as a whole.

@Izurich

Lol, guess we were looking in different places. I was actively searching for a Magical Girl one and only happened across this one by luck and a lot of digging honestly.

Grimoiric Heart

@ShadowSunRisen Well, to be fair, we did lose 2 players a while back, so I could see you getting in. Wishing you luck!
I definitely empathize with just making a CS anyway after being hit with the inspiration stick, and there really are seemingly too few good Magical Girl RPs on here.

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

@Eviledd1984
The cast size is going to be, uh... huge. Yeah, that. lol
So, there's definitely room. Just read the rules, pick a character, and slap a CS submission together for review!

Grimoiric Heart

@The 42nd Gecko Ah, it bears mentioning that it doesn't matter in the slightest how Lilac perceives Camelot when it comes to how much she's blinded. The strength of the light is entirely dependent on Camelot's personal perception. Other people have no stake in it, but we can leave this be since Camelot ultimately was just annoyed with her more than anything.
Also, LMAO, that misunderstanding field Lilac is rocking somehow worked in Camelot's favor? Was not expecting that. She actually didn't notice what she got hit by, but it makes complete sense! XD

Grimoiric Heart

@The 42nd Gecko
Yeah, Camelot's standards might be a bit unfairly scuffed, lol, considering her general physical enhancements. She's being a bit unfair on Lilac for sure (not completely so, but somewhat), but a lot of that is her ignorance regarding Lilac's exact limits.
Once they have their talk, hopefully some of that will be cleared up, and they can adjust going forward.

Multiversal Discord: The Mass-Scale Crossover RP

A N D

B O N E S A W

Location(s): Paradox Engine, Simulated Universe #1 (Open Fields, Current Simulation: Unknown)
Mentions: Driscoll @Mintz, Cyrus @Randomness, Shadow Moth @TruthHurts22, Poison Ivy @Crimson Flame, Ganon @ActRaiserTheReturned, and Horus @Dead Cruiser.

---

---

Ooooooaaahhhhh~~! Bonesaw’s grin widened at the sight of the robot’s pieces beginning to form into brand new bodies of their own. “So that’s why the weaknesses looked deliberate!” she proudly chirped from behind Mr. Driscoll. At Mr. Horus’s bellow of warning and admonishment of the adorably enthusiastic -and apparently equally baitable- Mr. Moth, the little blonde’s excitement only grew. “Nanomachines~?!” she practically squealed at the sight. She’d only heard about that kind of technology, and even the Nine didn’t go around bothering the Machine Army back on Bet just to change that. She gushed, “Oh! Where do they get the mass?! How are they-?” She let out a girlish breathy gasp, as the one Mr. Horus split from shoulder to nuts adapted.

And it was adaptation. That much was made clear by the next few instances of the drones taking any form of injury. “Oh my, Crawler would have loved it here~!” Bonesaw hummed aloud, looking for all the world entirely unconcerned with the threat of an eternally replicating and adapting foe, as she began fiddling with her fingers and then wiggling her feet. To the sharp-eyed, one might catch the vaguest hint of something… shifting beneath the skin of her fingertips.

The Forever King, for his part in things, was entirely too absorbed in the conflict to witness such strange happenings. As he feared, it took only seconds for these fools to break into the Wardrone…And thus, complicating their situation immensely. Only one of them even had something close to what he would dub a success, and, well…The hail of laserfire upon Cyrus spoke to the contrary.

“Yes, nanomachines. I cannot speak to the exactness of their functions, but the Techadons are mass-produced war machines, able to regenerate from past failures…And adapt to them, as one could plainly see.” Driscoll merely motioned to the catastrophe before them; the charging duo of drones, equipped with heavy-duty armor and vicious Talons, and the one who had now begun bringing hellfire to the poor plains were clear evidence of that.

“...I am also painfully aware that I do not know their weakness, although….” The Forever King began to take account of the situation. Something had to be missing here…When all of these constructs were struck down, it never seemed to sit…Except one. He glanced towards the smoldering, inactive remains of Cyrus’ first Techadon. Something happened to stop that one, but what..?

“...It’s the head. Whatever process they use to reform and adapt, it originates from there; if we can dispose of that, it should fall. It will not be easy…” He finally turned his attention back to the small child. “If you intend to run, now is the time.” With that, he rose back to full height from his huddled formation, flexing the mechanized muscles of his armor back into force, and forming a warhammer of sorts in his hands. Slashing them apart did not work, but a single crushing blow to their central processing? Well… That ought to do just fine.

Bonesaw’s only immediate response was a giggle, before Driscoll felt a weight settle onto the back of his armor. Hardly anything enough to disrupt his balance unduly, but it was there. Bonesaw’s hand clasped into each of his pauldrons, as she briefly leaned over and gave him an all to wide pearly grin. “Don’t worry, Mr. Forever King Sir~! The Slaughterhouse Nine never runs… except when running would mean we win even harder next time~!” Giggling again, the child moved back and settled herself more, before letting out a brief “Oh” and scrambling a bit, as Bonesaw pulled off both her shoes and socks and slipped them into the front of her apron, wiggling her toes happily.

“As it so happens, Mr. Forever King Sir, I used to have a teammate who worked a whole lot like these drones… except, you know-” she giggled. “Organic!” The fingers on either side of Driscoll’s head, clasped to his pauldrons began to… twitch and flex in a manner that seemed distinctly uncomfortable, not that the child gave any sign that it was. Continuing on, as if discussing the weather, Bonesaw said, “He had this real neat acid spit, and I got to work with him often while he lasted~! Long enough to figure out how it worked and make something just. As. Good~.” In unison, and then in sequence, her fingernails flapped upwards like trap-doors, before finally setting back down again.

“I’m something of an ace with cybernetics, you know?” Bonesaw’s grin was one that could practically be heard. “So I made some capsules filled with that super special acid and stored one in each of my fingers and little toesies~!” Humming for a moment, she chirped, “But no more than that~! No sir! That stuff is super volatile, way too risky to stuff more than that in. It’s a self-replicating acid filled with all kinds of digestive enzymes, you see? Once exposed to basically anything other than the inside of its capsule, it’s honestly one of the most reactive substances I’ve ever had the distinct pleasure to study!” Giggling girlishly again, Bonesaw whispered, “This acid can melt through concrete, steel and so much more in practically an instant~. One capsule to the head should be enough for each of these naughty naughty bots~!”

Abruptly, she let out something of a small whine. “Moouuu~! But, I need to get close to do anything, you know? I can launch the capsules with my needles, but the range is pretty bad, and there’s no way I want to break them while they’re still on me! So~? I guess that means you and I will be staying real close for the next little while~!” She hummed cheerfully. “Now then~! Who to target first, hmm~?” she wondered aloud in what almost sounded like mock thought. “Well~, Mr. Cyrus is the only one so far to not make things worse,” she posited, pointing towards the bot that was currently barraging Cyrus’s position with a blaze of blue fury. “Maybe start with that!”

Driscoll gave a good laugh as the young lass clambered atop him. “My, aren’t you a brave one, young Riley? And wise at that…I can agree with that sentiment when it comes to fleeing, and running from this problem will only prolong it. We end this now.” Before he could launch into the fray, however, Bonesaw had spoke up once more, about an old teammate, and potent acid, promptly revealing it to the Forever King. Her lack of response to such….Morbid methods of arming oneself was surprising. Perhaps, just as she had mentioned this teammate’s ability, she too possessed some form of unnatural trait. Well….Beyond her very nature, he supposed. Still, this was an agreeable outcome, for once. This could make the process exceptionally quick. Especially if…

Before he could continue that thought, though the small lass had been too focused in her demonstration to realize, Driscoll caught something; a new Techadon, a fresh one, barreling straight towards them. “Hmph. Hold that thought. We have ourselves a challenger..” As it ran forward, looking to smash headfirst into the King, he took a low stance and slammed his energy warhammer straight into the chest of the machine, as small chunks of metal and hardware flew to the ground and the construct went hurtling across the plains, crashing back down nearly a dozen feet off.

“Oh~! Nice one~!” the child cheered enthusiastically.

Driscoll wouldn’t give it the time to recuperate and reevaluate this situation. Charging forward with Bonesaw squealing in joy from his back, the two looked destined to meet in a frontal clash, but at the last moment, yet again taking advantage of the sluggish nature of the machines, the Forever King went low and hit true against the knee of the machine, staggering it to the ground. Without time to waste, he quickly decided a smarter method; with a flex of his gauntleted hands, the energy of both reformed into twin armblades that promptly sunk deep into the thin crevice between the head and torso of the machine. Bonesaw could hear the exertion of Driscoll, putting his full force behind it. And just as it looked like the attempt would fail, and the Techadon began to rise up once more…

“Go~, go, go goooo~!” the little blonde chanted.

The armblades met in the center.

The head of the construct clattered to the ground, cleanly severed from the rest of its nigh-indomitable form. With only brief moments of activity left, it weakly tried to raise itself back up…Only to fall before Driscoll.

“Alley-oop~!” Bonesaw tittered, hopping down from his back, clasping the hem of her blue dress, as she practically skipped over to the downed head. Humming, the little blonde took hold of the large fallen head, and with far more ease than a person her size should, flipped it over, giggling. “Oh!” she said after a moment, humming. “I see, very little nanotech in the nerve center, hmmm~?” Nodding, she grinned. “Makes sense! You know, even with how amazing nanomachines are, I guess even they have some limits~! Sure must be hard stuffing all that fancy programming and adaptive learning tech in there~!”

Nodding to herself, she skipped back over to Driscoll and clambered back onto his back. “They must have had to partition things, so if you can separate half the equation from the other, neither can work~! Symbiosis~! Two entirely different species of codependent nanomachines forming a working ecosystem of simultaneously robust strength! A strength and weakness all in one~!” Bonesaw squealed in excitement. “Oh~, I just can’t wait to dig around in there properly~!” Sighing in longing, her chirpy voice filled with faux seriousness, “But before we can play, there’s work to be done for all good little boys and girls~!” Stabbing a deceptively harmless looking finger forth at the bot still menacing Cyrus. “Mr. Driscoll Sir, let’s free up the only other successful ally we’ve got!” She didn’t feel the need to include Mr. Moth in that statement, because honestly, she was being merciful enough not mentioning him at all.

Driscoll toned out Bonesaw about halfway through her monologue. Her prattling sounded like she was learning something valuable about these machines, but he couldn’t quite grasp all she spoke of. Symbiosis? Codependent nanomachines? Well, at the very least, she seemed knowledgeable in the subject. A useful thing to take note of.

However, more pressing matters still stood. The Forever King felt…A modicum of confidence in the towering Horus, in spite of his situation. If he was proven wrong, then so be it. And as for the strange woman who seemed obsessed with the greenery around her, well…Perhaps her being burnt off the stage would not be a bad thing. She already sounded troublesome, and he hadn’t even properly met her. Thus, it left one target.

“Agreed….Tell me, how much pressure do you believe those capsules can withstand?” A devious plan began to hatch in the King’s mind, and if it went as planned, this would become even easier than he had begun to anticipate….

“Moouu~!” Bonesaw hummed in thought. “Well~, a lot, really. Might break if you stomped on one real hard in your suit. I needed to make sure they wouldn’t accidentally pop inside me, you know?” Nodding resolutely, she continued. “So, I mostly launch them with my needles in order to puncture it mid-flight, but I can eject them manually…?” She trailed off questioningly.

“If you would be so kind as to offer me one. I believe I have a method that will suffice beyond needles…” With a brief flex, his left arm dissipated his armblade, and formed itself into a cannon-like shape. “This fixture fires off a highly-pressurized blast of water. It was meant for a more…Specific scenario, but it will function well for this.”

“Hmmm…” Bonesaw murmured, before pulling herself up to sit fully atop his right pauldron. Reaching down to her bare left foot, the pinky toenail flapped open, and the little girl plucked a viciously-green colored capsule from some sort of crevice within, a tube leading deeper into the appendage visible behind where the capsule was taken… were one to have the right angle.

The toenail closing, Bonesaw’s smile remained, but there was a certain wary skepticism to it. “Well~, it’s your suit, Mr. Driscoll Sir. For safety’s sake, take this as a Doctor’s professional warning! If that hose is comparable to a pressure washer, might want to dial it back just a bit on launch before ramping it up on impact~! Otherwise…” She grinned leadingly and handed the highly volatile Tinkertech weapon over. Little more needed to be said on the matter. A screw up was not going to be any joking matter.

“Understood.” Tapping a finger to the side of the newly formed armament; a portion of the metallic plating slid open to reveal a dial; perhaps a bit rudimentary, but with his systems all but fried, he would have to handle things manually. Turning it back from maximum pressure, he brought it down all the way to a ‘one’ on its scale; admittedly, even that low was still comparable to a pressure wash, but Driscoll had confidence in his scheme. One had to wonder what he had intended to douse with the maximum of ‘ten’...

Regardless, he took the deadly concoction delicately in the giant fingers of his suit, and carefully placed it within the cannon. In spite of what failure could mean, the Forever King would not know of the word; not anymore. Taking strides towards the now mostly-reformed Techadon, he rose his weapon to bear…And fired.

“Oohhhoooo~~!” Bonesaw could feel the brief spray of water that came off from the jetstream that fired, heading markedly towards the constructed menace; and with the capsule riding perfectly in the front. Just before contact was made, with a grin only he knew he bared, he cranked the pressure back to max.

It was evident immediately that it worked, judging from the fact that the jet of water punched straight through the machine’s torso, and over the rushing sound of water, the brief cracking noise of a capsule could be heard. As the Wardrone crashed to the ground, spraying laserfire wildly, the acid took violent effect; already, most of its torso was eaten away, and as it reached its arms down to try and stop the process, one touch of their fingers was all it took to begin dissolving those as well.

Its last moments were those of helpless resistance, as given only a few moments, the Techadon was no more, with nothing left to mark its presence. Bonesaw gave an enthusiastic smattering of rapid applause, smiling brightly at the successfully hatched scheme. Driscoll merely gave a nod of approval at the work it had done, before quickly referring to Cyrus….Though not before a small sigh could be heard by Bonesaw escaping him. “Cyrus, see to it that the greenhouse madwoman doesn’t get turnt to cinders. We will see to that.” He shouted across the field, glancing towards the sky; the last Techadon was still yet to land, and its delayed entrance spoke silently of its importance. While a huge difference was made by this pair, the fight was not quite over yet…Lastly, the Forever King took notice of Shadow Moth, and his seemingly claimed Techadon. “I don’t suppose you’re up for another, mm?”

Dead Gods Dream: A post-apocalyptic divine action-adventure RP

Hmmm... is it the weapons thing? I think that must be it. Is there anything else that overlaps then?
It's kind of hard not to overlap with something as broad as War when you have domains like Heroes and Humanity.

Grimoiric Heart

Wanted to capitalize on my current momentum with this RP before Writer's Block slaps me in the face with a dead fish again, so next Camelot post up!
In which Camelot attempts to capitalize on Ozma's interference to extend an olive branch. Will the others take it? Only time will tell.

Grimoiric Heart

Camelot

Restraining a grimace, Camelot dismissed Burning Heart’s anger as unfortunately important for the time being, as Moonlight Tsubasa made use of the opportunity to draw herself away from the Knight. Exhaling again to continue the steady reconstruction of her lost composure, Chinami listened with half an ear as Tsubasa pretty much confirmed what she had deduced, that the passivity of the Pageless was something that could be learned.

In that case, Camelot knew she would be willing to burn some bridges. Ultimately, in the face of something like that, was she really expected to care about a team that had been foisted on her so abruptly? A team with a girl who was blind and deaf to anything she didn’t like, a girl who allowed herself to be strung around by the nose by the former, and a girl who would never truly listen to Camelot and who would -and had proven herself to- be an outrageous disruption and socially caustic on a scale she genuinely hadn’t expected, a poison to team cohesion.

Was she really expected to value that sort of team over what might be the solution to everything?

Tsubasa was quite understandably riled up by this point, so the threats of bodily harm upon Dynasty Queen were hardly anything Camelot could begrudge her. But unfortunately, as much as she might dislike the bitch, as much as she resented her for being part and parcel to getting the Knight to genuinely lose her temper, she also couldn’t condone an outright threat against her life. She addressed Tsubasa. “Your wrath is not misplaced, but I have a duty to protect my charges, and -at least for the time being- she is one of them, like it or not. I’d much prefer peace, for us to leave this place without violence, but if you must have retribution… then I won't interfere as long as it isn’t lethal or maiming. She’s brought this on herself, and I can heal anything less.” Deserved karmic retribution or not, no-one was going to die today if she could help it.

There was suddenly a sound of scrabbling from behind and a hand on her shoulder, and Camelot couldn’t help the flinch, such was her current state. Head swiveling, Camelot brow furrowed at the sight of the Pageless fleeing again with even greater urgency… and at the witch-looking magical girl currently stepping back from her.

“Ozma,” she greeted with some wariness, crossing her arms to stop them from so much as twitching towards her weapon. In this state, with her battle instincts on high alert, she really couldn’t help being incredibly wary of anyone she didn’t have a true clue about the abilities of. It was remarkable that between the equally mysterious two, she almost felt like she’d learned more about Midnight Tsubasa in these tense few minutes than she had about Ozma in years. In that respect, her instincts were tweaked far worse by the unknown than the known.

Still, if there was anyone that could deescalate things, it was someone with that kind of unknown power.

Camelot snorted humorlessly at Ozma’s open wondering about the decision-making process that went into putting her and Dynasty Queen in close quarters for longer than ten minutes. “I assure you, that’s not the only issue with this team, merely the one that exacerbates the others,” she replied bluntly. Quite frankly, she had few if any fucks to give remaining. She just felt exhausted mentally by all this, by fucking Tesni. Diplomacy… politeness… clearly, neither were effective here. She’d tried. She’d tried so hard to use her words, to be reasonable. But to the stubborn and willfully blind and deaf, words were useless. Such people… clearly, they only understood force.

Something ugly burned inside the Knight, red-hot and almost tangible. It curdled and bubbled wrathfully, practically baying for violence. Squeezing her eyes shut, Camelot exhaled calmingly again -as she had been doing for a while now, only to start when her long exhale against the chilly, rainy London air almost seemed to hiss out in a small cloud of actual steam.

Blinking furiously, Camelot’s brows furrowed, but… No, it was probably her imagination. Whatever the case, the red-hot poker of anger in her heart had subsided with that breath, almost as if literally expelling the temper from her. To be sure, a kernel of resentment still rattled with the desire to pop, but her prior bout of wrath had been doused and didn’t seem like it would truly be reignited unless things continued to devolve here. For the time being, however, her overt rage washed away with the chill of the rain pitter-pattering against her armor.

Still, she barely restrained a scoff at Ozma’s next statement, a plea really. ‘Keep their wits about them?’ She had all her wits right now, dammit! It was everyone else that was losing it! And the rest of that… was all she going to do is state the obvious? Camelot knew those things well, adhered to them better than most even, she thought, given she seemed to be one of the only Magical Girls that paid significant attention to actually avoiding property damage where possible. But she wasn’t a machine, not some perfect hero, despite any show she might put on. She had her weaknesses, her pressure points, so surely, she was allowed to get truly angry once in a while? Was she expected to just… not?

Maybe…

But she already put enough pressure on herself as is. She certainly didn’t need others telling her what she already knew and practiced, because she wasn’t perfect. Enough pressure… enough stress… and she’d lose her temper just as much as anyone else… as she had today. And that? That was dangerous. There was a sharp difference between her losing her temper and someone, like say, Lilac Shimmer. The contrast in brute force power made it all the more important she keep it together at all times, that she always used her words, that she never resorted to violence except as a last possible option. Frankly, she liked to think that she had actually used it last in this situation… but had she? Maybe she could have used her fists instead of her sword to stop Lilac. Maybe she could have just… refused to engage in debate with Tesni. But instead, she’d focused more on what she “knew” would work. She didn’t want to leave herself open to Tesni when stopping Lilac, so she’d gone for the only option she had that could take care of both problems -or at least, waylay one- at once.

But was that the right move? She really didn’t know. It had felt right at the time, but… she had been so angry. So… No. Camelot shook her head in self-recrimination. This was not the place or time for such thoughts. She couldn’t allow herself to hesitate on the battlefield, not when it came to saving lives. Not ever. Midnight Tsubasa’s life had been in danger. She acted. Simple as that.

Regardless of her internal conflict, Camelot was paying attention to the goings-on around her. Honestly, as wired as she was, it was difficult for her to do otherwise. Ozma was saying some… pretty interesting things about Tsubasa, things that she knew she’d be hunting the redhead down to inquire about later… even if she knew she’d probably receive the white-washed Ministry version of events. It was still a place to start, nonetheless. That aside, she also… generally agreed with the enigmatic Magical Girl’s closing statements.

This entire patrol was a bust. She wanted nothing less than to continue it, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to the Ministry and let the Grand Minister know in excruciating detail how badly put together this team was. But as things were, selfishness could wait. Ultimately, she recalled Tesni saying something right before things devolved, and even if she was right about nothing else, she was right about that.

“Dynasty Queen…” Camelot spoke up abruptly, turning to face the martial artist once more, before pausing. “Tesni, you were right about one thing at least: this is a patrol. Whether we’re doing it for justice or merely fun, we’re here to save lives, and I think we can agree on that -if nothing else. We are not friends -or even friendly, but I would hesitate to call us enemies. I don’t think this team will hold together, not as we are, but I think even now, we can work together one last time. I don’t care how or why you fight right now. I just want you to kill every Pageless that looks at you funny as quickly and wholly as possible. Stay with the group, or go alone. I won’t stop you… unless it’s Tsubasa, but I think you know that.”

Exhaling another small puff of steam that she hadn’t noticed herself working up, Camelot addressed her purple-clad charge. “Lilac Shimmer, if I have injured you, speak now honestly, and I will heal your ailment, no matter how meager it may be. It was not my intent to do harm, but I drew arms against you and took the risk anyway. However, you seem to have a problem. I regret to admit my ignorance of it till now, despite the warning signs and even after two years living together in the same damn room. It is a shameful failure on my part, and had I noticed sooner… perhaps I could have done something before now. For the time being, know only that we shall address it later.”

She turned to the fox-girl. “Burning Heart… I must apologize for the shameful display as your senior, during a time where you should be receiving nothing less than the best from me. I have wronged you twice over, as I have also harmed someone you seem to call a, dare I say it,… friend? That said, I see your countenance… is entirely different than it was before. Now that I’ve gotten the chance to observe you up close, transformed and not, I feel I understand what your issue is, but only time will tell if it is one that can be mitigated.”

Turning to the statuesque eastern Magical Girl, Camelot smiled apologetically. “Midnight Tsubasa… I regret that we have met under such circumstances. Though our meeting hasn’t been entirely amiable, I bear you no true ill will and would be perfectly happy to meet with you again. And while I would like to continue our exchange now, I have work to do. If you would fight beside us, then I would be honored by -if not your forgiveness- then your tolerance for those that wronged you.” She sighed. “If you would be on your way instead, I quite doubt any here would truly begrudge you, all things considered. And at the end of it all, I would be more than willing to continue this somewhere quieter.”

"Ozma..." Camelot's jaw worked itself silently for a moment, a prideful little part of her sorely wishing she could ignore that the Crimson Comet had needed to show up at all. "I am not arrogant enough to avoid admitting when I am out of my depth. Well, I was before and probably still am, so thank you for intervening. This... could have gotten much much worse."

Sighing deeply once more, Camelot stared up at the dark perspiring sky. “Make no mistake, this conversation… these issues we have… our exploration and handling of them isn’t over, not by a long shot, but right now, we have bigger fish to fry by far. I won’t ask or expect you to like it. The only thing I must ask -because it is my duty to the people- is if we can set all this aside long enough to save lives. If you can give me that much, then we can return to infighting back at Marrywell… and figure out where we go from here -or if there is to even be a ‘we’ to begin with.”