Stanifly

Ex Nihilo

🄴🅁🄸🅂🄴🄳

It was getting a little hard to breathe. Thin air, high altitude, her speed which hadn’t decreased in any way, her idiocy – there was a wonderful variety of reasons to choose from.

With a mental, exasperated sigh, Erised got rid of the gravity-defying organ. The leftover desire from the change channelled through her form, hollowing her bones. The changes were subtle, almost unnoticeable, but Erised felt it all. Lighter, streamlined. Her form seemed to fit the skies somehow. Against her back, two skeletal fingers poked through her shirt and in a manner that was gruesome and not quite painless, burst out in a rush. The rest took place in a split second: meat rolled out over bone, then crimson red feathers fluffed out, spreading until they ended in jet black tips. Her shirt was agreeable to the change, shifting to adjust to the extra limbs.

While all this took place, her body had slowed to a stop in its ascent. Gravity reclaimed its hold on her and, with a slight tug, she was falling. Slowly, and then quicker as speed gave her a nudge and the planet’s surface jogged towards her. Jogging, not rising steadily, because its pitifully weak gravity was the cause of Erised’s blunder in the first place. If it wasn’t for the wind stealing her breath away, she would’ve given a haughty sniff.

The dragons were circling idly above the village. A brief reprieve from raining hell on the humans? No, their desires still sang of bloodlust. They weren’t tired. They were waiting for their chance to strike again. Somewhere along their thirst for blood, something else pulsed strong in their hearts.

Serve the king.
Orders.
Orders.

How boring. Erised fell headfirst, wings folded, form straight as an arrow. With both hands on the hilt, she pointed her sword straight down and braced for impact. Not a moment too soon – the sword plunged into the neck of one of the unsuspecting circling dragons.

‘Fuck!’

That’s what she’d had in mind, anyway. In reality, the sword snapped in two, splintering at the tip, and she smashed into the dragon’s neck. Pain shot up her arms as she bounced off unyielding scales and slipped right off the dragon's neck, into open air. She watched as the dragon above her opened its maw, resigned.

‘Fucking figures the sword's a loser too.'

Ice – ice? – shot towards her and she ducked out of the way with a quick flap of her wings. The attack, never stopping, followed her and with a click of her tongue, she looped up and over the dragon. What a bother. Sparing a side glance, she flicked her fingers. The attack stopped, a garbled choke escaped the dragon and then red burst out of it, piercing through its chest and back. If anyone bothered to look closely, they would see that the red matter resembled the sword she'd previously attempted to use.

'Really? I thought dragons were supposed to be strong,' said Erised. The red matter vanished unceremoniously. Desire had no use lingering in the physical plane.

DIE HUMAN.

The two other dragons hadn't bothered watching their comrade fall; they charged at her with enraged roars and she stayed where she was, hovering. She lifted a hand and flicked her fingers. Like before, desire burst out of their bodies, though this time it pierced through their chests and backs as simple spikes. They fell. She watched, disinterested, then redirected her gaze to her palms. Her flippant demeanour from earlier was all but gone.

'Still got it,' she murmured.

It was so easy. Destroying. Killing. She flexed her hands. Taking over this world, setting hell on these people, all of it would be so, so easy. She hardly needed to lift a finger to kill everyone in an instant. The hilarious part was that it wouldn't even matter - she could find another world just like this and do it all again. Here, she knew no one, didn't even know the local language. None of them mattered. They shouldn't.

She grit her teeth.

'Guess you'll be here a while, huh?'

Before she could tell the memory to piss off - and really, a mini-flashback, how delightfully cliché - a distant whinny caught her attention. She glanced back down to the mess below. Fire still blazed in the little town. The marketplace was basically a free bonfire at this point, thanks to all the ancient ass, flammable structure. Where the hell had she landed herself in? The place was outdated.

Provided nothing had interrupted their descent, the ice dragon would have crashed in the forest on the edge of the village and the other two smack-dab in the middle of the town, atop the marketplace where they smothered the flames somewhat. Not too far from where the ice dragon had crashed, a thick trail of ice had broken through the forest's canopy, probably from the ice dragon's earlier attack. However, all this Erised skimmed over with a disinterested eye to look at the stables, currently in ruins. Another distant whinny sounded and Erised bristled. Her horse! Bet or no bet, she was getting that horse. Abandoning thoughts of world annihilation for the moment, she sped over to the stables. The fire hadn't spread there, thankfully, and the stables weren't as ruined as she thought. At least the roof hadn't collapsed. There was another dragon nearby; it didn't seem to be with the boring human-siding dragons so she ignored it. Landing roughly in front of the stables, she stumbled in and her expression immediately soured.

'Oh. You guys.' The unreasonably powerful kid and the big guy who'd come to get defence earlier. She didn't bother asking why they were there - the remains of brain and shattered bone splattered on the ground along with the limp body they'd belonged to filled her in well enough. No matter. She was here for the horse. She'd been content enough seeing these two obvious protagonists on the sidelines but crossing their paths directly, and twice, stirred an uneasy filling in her gut. Coincidences proved to be otherwise far too often.

The horse was still where she'd last seen it and significantly less composed. Great. Erised's chances of befriending animals were always abnormally low, but now they were nonexistent with the horse already freaked out.

'Hey, uh, either one of you a natural with animals?' she said. ''Cause it would be great if you could calm her down and then I'll be on my merry way.'

---

𝕭𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓...

There was a stretch of forest that rounded the back of the village, before the trees petered out and sloped up into the mountain Secor called home. Getting down the mountain quickly had been easy enough for Secor; now he crouched among the top branches of a sturdy tree, peering out at the scene before him in amazement. The human village was doing its best to turn into a pile of ashes. Fearing for their lives, the humans scattered in a mad frenzy. Some retreated back into their houses, while most ran blindly away from the epicentre of the traitors' attack.

So far he had gathered that the situation centred around a female human hatchling, protected by a bigger male human. The human hatchling was most likely important, considering the traitors involved, but for what reason Valen couldn't fathom. The most alarming thing he heard amidst the chaos was the startled shout of 'ARIST!' - he'd stiffened where he was, instinctively ducking down even though he had no need to. An Arist? Here? How? He must have misheard. Reluctantly, he peered through the branches again. No, that was an Arist alright. He bristled, barely holding back a confused growl. He'd have to alert the clan and they'd have to set up a guard post. An Arist was no joke. Especially not when they were supposed to be extinct.

But this one wasn't doing much else, aside from attacking one of the traitors. Secor narrowed his eyes. He'd observe a little more before making any decisions.

'Secor!'

Alarm rushed through him a second time. Foliage rustled and he looked down as one of his floret wyvern neighbours came into view. Though her flowerlike mane and tail resembled some of the plant life around them, that was about where the similarity ended. Her spread of gold and back feathers made her stand out like wild mana in a pitch-black cave. He wasn't any better but at least he could take care of himself in a pinch.

'Haila!' he responded sharply. 'You shouldn't be here. It's dangerous.'

'I'm on my Wander. Secor, I saw the human village burning. Isn't there anything we can do?'

Wandering now, of all times? There couldn't have been a worst time to pick. Secor didn't know the details of the florets' rite of passage for their young but he did know that there was an unspoken rule not to interfere with wherever their floret neighbours chose to go. It was an etiquette that wasn't making his job any easier at the moment.

'It's a human village, Haila. The second you show yourself, they'll try their best to kill you. And will probably succeed in doing so,' he added. Some florets were tactically-sound fighters, but Haila wasn't one of them. She was known for her eager optimism; the enemy would rip her into tiny, soft pieces.

As if on cue, his instincts prickled. Not bothering looking up, he leapt down the tree, barreling into Haila and shoving them both aside. A chill ghosted against his back, and then something slammed into the ground behind them. The sound of resounding cracks followed its heels. Growling, Secor got off Haila and looked back, before immediately looking up through the newly-made gap in the canopy. A wall of ice was spread along the area they'd just been in moments before, half-buried into the ground. More concerning, however, was the small figure in the sky.

'No.'

A human with wings wasn't possible. Unheard of. As if hearing his thoughts, a massive red object pierced through the ice-breathing traitor, almost effortlessly. The other two traitors were dispatched similarly after, leaving the human alone in the skies. An unsettled growl rumbled deep in his throat. Haila shifted uneasily next to him.

This was a problem, a massive problem. If humans were harbouring magic this powerful and the Arist were back - and with one right here, they may all be in grave danger. He glanced at Haila and a flash of irritation went through him. If it weren't for her Guardian-cursed Wander...

'How good's your long-distance telepathy?' he sent.

'...I could probably reach the clan from here. What do you want me to send?'

'No. I'm heading back to warn the rest.' He hesitated, then continued. 'You stay here and keep an eye on the human in the sky. If anything develops, tell me. And do not, under any circumstance, engage with it or the traitors.'

Concern radiated from Haila. Secor hoped it was just for the risk her task held and not for the village humans. She had a soft heart and was yet to understand the ways of the humans. On the brighter side... she'd learn them soon enough.

A rumble of agreement escaped her. He started to move off, then paused.

'With heart, Haila,' he sent, and received a burst of surprise.

'With heart, Secor.'

He left without looking back. So began Haila's Wander, by the edge of a burning village.

---

CHERYL LUSBY

Jack seemed different from the frazzled mess he was before. He didn't even meet her eyes until he was right up in her space. Mood swings and unstable magic; great travel buddy she'd been saddled with.

'Yeah, yeah, let's just go,' she said. It was about time, anyway. Without much fanfare, she slipped the coin pouch into one of Guinea's saddle bags, got on the horse and, assuming Jack followed suit, they were off at a full gallop.

An unlit oil lantern was hooked on Guinea's saddle bag but seeing as tonight was Beckon Season, she wouldn't have need for it. The three moons lit her path well, bathing the surroundings with their glow of pale green, blue and pink. The colours mingled perfectly - blending into each other without quite mixing. Maybe if Cheryl had a mind to appreciate nature, she might have thought it looked nice, but all she wanted now was a thrice-damned bed. The moons just meant she had one less problem to worry about.

Sonarlis, the meatpit of a town it was, was tucked away against a mountain and located a day's travel from the next nearest town. They certainly wouldn't be near any civilisation any time soon, but she'd clear at least part of the journey before finding a good spot to camp out. Jack better had his own bedroll, because there was no chance in hell she was sharing. The road out of Sonarlis was bordered by the forest edge and if one were to look, foliage and shadows would wink back before the tree line. Stare long enough and perhaps something else might look back. With her eyes on the road, Cheryl had to settle for shadows lurking just out of the corner of her eyes. Piper's breath chuffed against her neck every other moment. The steady rhythm of Guinea's hooves beating the dirt grounded her. With Guinea being one of the speedier breeds, Cheryl imagined they'd be able to cover quite a bit of ground before settling for the night.

If she pretended that no one else was in the saddle with her, it almost felt like a non-crappy night.

Ex Nihilo

Haila

[pronounced: hi-la (la like in "laugh")]

more feathers

Appearance: Being a fairly young dragon, Haila's height stretches up to an average three metres. Most floret wyverns possess flowerlike manes and tails and Haila's no different, with her mane alternating in stripes of black and gold, and flecks of gold in her tail. As a wyvern, Haila has wings in place of forelegs; they're a brilliant spread of gold, bronze and black, with tail ends that make them resemble a butterfly's wings. Her scales are a pale grey and her eyes a deep turquoise, often taken up by a soft, curious expression. Her build is lithe - certainly not built for combat - and her gentle, dance-like movements easily portray her as a non-threat. This, of course, is not always a good thing.
Species: Floret wyvern. An elegant breed known for their calming presences and shared wisdom.
Age: The dragon equivalent of late teens.
Gender: Female
Occupation: Wild dragon in a Khusa-Floret wyvern alpine community.

Personality

how she floof

A gentle soul at heart, Haila's always ready to offer her listening ear to a friend. Not yet a grown, experienced floret wyvern, she's content to soak up the troubles and heartaches of the dragons around her, lending them a comfortable silence and companionship instead of dispensing advice. As a result, she has quite the well of patience for most things.

Having lived her life in the mountains, Haila's observed humans from afar but has never personally encountered one. Among the safety of her clan, she's grown a tendency for naivety and likes to believe the best in dragons. While most floret wyverns are wise, Haila is young and hasn't gone through her Wander yet. As such, she comes off as a vivid, eager dragon, interested in the tales and feelings the dragons around her has to offer. It's a small taste of the world she has yet to explore and she drinks up all of it. She's not unfamiliar with tragedy, but her innocent eagerness to listen did influence her fellow dragons to pull back on their stories' darker flavours. Now she's a big believer of hopeful endings, always expecting things to turn out for the better.

This feeds into her tendency to butt into other dragons' situations. Ever willing to help out someone in need, she overestimates the lengths she'll go to make their situation better and only realises when she's in over her head after the fact.

Traits

how she ror

Affinity | Life
Magic
| Calming field. An innate ability of the breed. Haila's able to project a small magic field around herself; those caught in the field will find peace of mind and their anxiety and anger momentarily put away.
| Empathic projection. More a result of untrained magic than anything, creatures within range of the calming field are able to sense Haila's emotions. Even if they may not necessarily be able to process complicated feelings, they'll receive a general gist of her current state.
Abilities | Flight. While floret wyverns are not a migratory breed, they can fly for quite the distance before tiring.
Strengths
| Loyal. Once someone's earned her friendship, she'll stick with them to the end - or so she believes.
| Patient. She's got to be to be as good as a listener as she is. If things get bad, she'll wait it out; it'll turn out alright.
| Heart of gold. There's something off-putting about seeing others in a bad situation and Haila wants nothing but the best for everyone she sees.
Failings
| Over-optimistic. While viewing the world through rose-coloured lenses may be uplifting for some, it can easily come off as denial to others.
| Stubborn. This could be seen as a strength in some situations. Her optimism feeds into this too. After all, where else can things go but up?
| Non-combative. Dragon instincts aside, she's never trained to fight or been in one, save for the occasional scuffle in her clan. To top it off, she doesn't like hurting others.

History

how she grow

Having spent most of her life in an alpine community guarded by their khusa neighbours, Haila's only known the rest of the world through the tales of her fellow brethren. The khusas travelled out in rotating groups to hunt or gather information on whatever happened beyond the mountain. The floret wyverns, in turn, had their own travelling routines: once the younger floret wyverns came of age, they would depart the clan for several years to journey the world. What they sought was up to each individual - be it self-discovery, pursuing hidden temptations, or exploring places unknown. Dubbed the Wander of Self, those who went on this rite of passage would return to the clan, on their time, as a fully-grown floret wyvern. There were those who never returned or maintained telepathic contact. The remaining wyverns had their own speculations but it was an unspoken rule to never assume any of the Wanderers dead until proven so.

Though the mountaintops were free for her to roam, Haila was always eager to hear about the world through the stories of elder floret wyverns and her khusa neighbours. They told of dragons who lived solo lives and dragons who'd dropped in from space; of kinship and treachery; of battles and journeys; and always, always of notorious humans. That seemed to be the one singular thread in them, the evil nature of humans. They were best stayed away from, advised the florets and khusas alike. In return, Haila always asked why - surely the humans couldn't be so bad? And even then, surely not all of them?

'You will see,' was the only response she received. 'When you Wander, you will see.'

Ex Nihilo

*stretches fingers* it has been a very, very long while indeed

Ex Nihilo

🄴🅁🄸🅂🄴🄳

psycho dumbass

Commission by Chai!

Appearance | At first glance, all one might see is a 12-year-old girl. With brown locks that end mid-back, she's usually seen in an orange short-sleeved shirt, brown shorts and most notably, dark red gloves. More recently, she's seen with grey inner sleeves extending out from her shirt on her arms. Depending on where she is and the situation, she may also be seen with crimson red wings ending in jet black tips.
True appearance | Unknown
Species | Sentient desire. The only one of her kind.
Age | That's a number she's never bothered to keep track of.
Gender | Female
Orientation | Asexual
Occupation | Embodiment of Desire

Personality

how she be

Erised does what she wants and doesn't care about consequences until they hit her in the face. That's not to say that she's uncaring about other people, but anything that challenges what she wants to do or make her doubt an action she's taking only makes her grit her teeth and do it anyway because desire doesn't take anything back. It can't (or so she tells herself).

Neutral to most beings. If anything, she has a tendency to distance herself from those who associate with her. Everyone, after all, is only one of many. Why invest in those who don't matter? Still, it does depend on how beings treat her. She's got little time for assholes and none at all for heroes. There's nothing more disgusting than a pompous, self-righteous do-gooder and she'll gladly kick one in the face given the opportunity. Then there's the nice ones. Being treated kindly puts her on edge - she's often unsure of how to react to compliments or well-intentioned favours and can get a little flustered in response. This is not to say that she'll reciprocate such deeds, but she'll tolerate further contact with the individual. Maybe she might even remember their name.

While impulsive, she's learning to reign in immediate reactions to being provoked. Most fights are boring, anyway - and when they're not, she usually finds herself fighting for her life. It's mildly irritating to have it be on two opposite sides of the spectrum, if she's being honest. Most times she'll actually engage in a physical fight if only because easy is boring as fuck. She's mostly unphased by the trouble people get themselves into around her, but if there's a good reason to beat the shit out of a mugger she's passing by (eg having to listen to the irritating sound of yelling and crying), sure, she'll intervene.

She's a tourist and she's on a vacation, because she has nowhere else she wants to be.

Traits

how she flex

Affinity | None
Abilities
| Desire. Being desire herself, she's aware of all the desires in her network - a wide range, considering it spans the entirety of the multiverse. However, she's by no means omniscient. It's kind of like having a room full of chattering people in her head; if she listens, she can hear their conversations, but she won't know the context. Listening to the desires of the beings who engage her come as second nature but it's not an ability she abuses often since at best, the desires she hears are uninteresting and at worst, they're repulsive.
| Desire manipulation. She can summon desire into the physical plane as physical matter and her constructs are always in shades of red. With this, she's able to replicate objects, though not always accurately in detail. The easiest attack is forcing desire physically out of a person's heart. Her constructs falter once she attempts to use them to stop or pull against anything.
| Desire influence. She's able to push a sentient being's desire into a certain direction, as long as even a little bit of it exists within the person. This is provided that there's not another bigger contrasting desire within the person and that there's not stronger restraint pushing against the desire. She cannot put a desire into a person and she cannot erase a pre-existing desire. All she can do is manipulate it into the direction she wants. This works strongly with mindless or simple-minded creatures and easily influenced, gullible, passionate, inebriated, or near unconscious sentient beings. It's not an ability to use with brute force; when beings fight against it, it's tedious to keep the desire from being snuffed out. If she has to use this, Erised prefers taking one time to convince a person or giving up entirely, because really. Why bother, right?
| Form of desire. Taking her physical form doesn't necessarily mean a human body. She can replicate the look of her soul's physical form, but she's basically a walking block of solid desire. She can get her head chopped off, her fingers snapped, or be stabbed through the heart, and she won't feel anything. The trade-off, however, is that she can't smell and taste things. Nor can she process alcohol, which is why she prefers fully replicating an organic human body most times. That means it fucking hurts when things go sideways, but it's worth the buzz. Asides all that, her wings are always fully replicated.
| Unknown.
| Unknown.
| Unknown.
Weaknesses
| Restraint. As her opposite, the essence of restraint is able to hurt or hold her back as desire. Due to its nature, restraint cannot kill her, but it's an effective Erised-repellent. Especially since the current Embodiment of Restraint pisses her right off.
| Defence. Being desire, she's unable to shield against an attack or hold something back (this includes pulling against a force or an object moving in the opposite direction). While she can be hit, an attack will go through her if she attempts to use her body as a shield.
| Soul magic. While Erised has an interest in exploring fantastical words, this type of magic puts her off. A lot. Mainly because, if done right, it can kill her. Why risk her life when there are plenty of other places to be, right? She won't stick around for it unless she's goaded into it or - and this is an uncommon scenario - there is someone that she cares about enough to be a reason to stay.
| Dimensions. Dimensions aren't sentient by any means, but there are mysterious forces lurking in the unknown. Erised's free to play tourist, but if she messes with a dimension's direction - intentionally or otherwise - the dimension treats her like a pest to be rid of. Certain things in the time stream may be set into motion, just enough that whether or not there were people capable of taking her down before, there certainly are now.
Strengths
| Offence. It's ridiculously easy to pierce through most things with desire, just because she wants to. As long as her intention is to deliver, her strikes ring through. Most times, all it takes is a flick of her fingers - heart is where the desire is, after all.
| Observant. Advantages of being desire aside, she takes the time to let the situation play itself out first before choosing or being forced to intervene.
Failings
| Flippant. She's not concerned of consequences when she really, really should be.
| Slow reflex. Considering her natural lack of pain receptors, most times she doesn't need to dodge. While she is capable in battle, she's unable to react on reflex. This becomes unfortunate when the attack ends up to be something that's actually able to injure her.
| Impulsive. A trait that she's working on to control, but a trait that she has nonetheless.
| Alcoholic. While not necessary a failing, her vice does make her single-minded at times when she feels like she wants a drink and everything else can wait.

History

how she grow

"It doesn't matter."

Ex Nihilo

CHERYL LUSBY

Stranger really couldn't go five minutes without kicking up some sort of fuss, could he? With an expression of resignation - for yes, she had accepted her fate, stuck with the weird alien worth what was probably a not so ridiculous amount if he really was an alien - she looked on as, instead of answering her question, Jack began blaring music from his butt. Once again, it wasn't anything she was familiar with. The alien language was one thing, but the beats and rhythm of the music were different as well. Catchy, even.

Unfortunately, the horses thought otherwise - Guinea included. The recktall horse snorted, snapping her incisors as she stamped the ground. Cheryl whapped her on the neck.

'Quit your tantrum,' she said, 'It's just music.'

'Chree-ee-ee,' said Guinea. She sounded like she was choking on her own tongue. Considering how the horse had settled down somewhat, Cheryl took that to mean that she'd pulled herself together.

In the meantime, Jack had finally collected his...musical fart item and turned the music off. 'About time, Stranger.'

'Can't you-' she started.

'Sonarlis City Morgue. You kill them, we’ll chill them,' said Jack, talking over her words. Was he talking to his item? It seemed like it. It also seemed like he'd be doing his damn best to toss logic into the depths of nonexistence the whole time he was here.

She studied him as he talked to the item. Perhaps it was a communication device? It would make more sense. From what she could glean from his side of the conversation, he had no clue, like he did with most everything, on who he was talking to. Shocker.

Oh? Whoever was on the other side of the conversation must have said something upsetting, because Jack didn't look happy just then. He held out the item towards her, finger on his lips. She stayed quiet as a voice rang out from the item, stating a request she was far too familiar with. She listened as Jack said his response. And when Jack finally turned to her, she had nothing but a weary expression on her.

There were a lot of things she could say. Distrust - he could just as easily kill her when she had her back turned. Confusion - he could have accepted the request and do away with her while she was unaware. Frustration - why the hell did this idiot insist on being so belligerent?

She scoffed.

'Yeah, you catching up to me's as likely as a manamone dropping dead by our feet.' She fished out a gold coin from the pouch of Jack's Ridiculous Bounty and tossed it at him. 'Try to resist your swindling urges, will you? Doing that to a man in a room full of weapons isn't exactly the best idea.' She leaned against the stall's low wall, crossing her arms. 'Take longer than five minutes and I'm leaving. Falling asleep on a ride isn't the greatest way to die.'

---

🄴🅁🄸🅂🄴🄳

Dimensions were places where events took place. Sometimes, too many events took place at the same time. It got to the point when even Erised, lover of chaos, developed a system to process things in her head. A three-point system.

Point number one. Something was in the sky.

Point number two. She hadn't missed the bald, beefy dude from earlier coming their way, though why he was pissed off she couldn't care less.

Point number three. The guard in front of her looked about one second away from pissing his pants.

That was all she got before everything went to hell in a handbasket. The wind, only just calming down, kicked right back into its previous scrambling state, only a lot stronger. This wasn't the uncontrolled output of a whirlwind. This was driven force, wind pushed aside in place of something else. She shielded her eyes with her free arm - a fruitless action since she still had to blink the dirt out of her eyes. A roar pierced through the sky and the village; the thunderous sound rang in her ears and as she peered up at the sky, a grin crept onto her face.

'Not a boring place at all.'

A yell from the fleeing guard had her glancing over at him, before dismissing him entirely. She adjusted her grip on the sword she now apparently owned. Not a bad find, though she was more used to her knives. No doubt her form had swordmasters rolling in their graves. Her admiration of the weapon was cut short as more dragons showed up.

'Hup!' Fire burst out along the market stalls and Erised held her breath as she hopped to one side. The pungent stench of smoke and cooked flesh filled the air, as did the screams of the desperate, hurt, and afraid. In moments, the quiet village centre had transformed into a flustercluck of flames and terror. Despite not being a part of it all, there was a rush in her veins and a thrill in her chest; Erised let out a delighted laugh. She wanted, wanted, wanted nothing more than to jump in and sink her hands into the bloodbath. To chase after the people running around like headless chickens, to slaughter them one-by-one, watch the blood drain, hear them scream, laugh at their agony-

She punched herself.

'Relapse much?' she muttered, rubbing her sore cheek. 'Been a while since I felt that way.' Too much concentrated desire in one area here - for a dimension, it wasn't any more than was usual, but for her, it was all too easy to lose herself in the middle of it. Especially with all the uncertainty that definitely was not churning in her now.

'Then again, is it really losing myself if it's just me in the first place?'

Her contemplative line of thought was cut short by, not more dragons, but a shockwave that sent her flying onto her back. Her head cracked against the unforgiving cobblestones. Stars burst against her vision.

'Ow.' It had to have been the kid. No other kid she knew here could scream and send things flying like that. 'Stupid kids.' Could the universe start granting powers to more emotionally stable people? She sucked in some desire, enough to stop her head from throbbing, and rolled onto her side, leaning on an elbow. The market seemed quiet now, relatively speaking. The girl...was being kidnapped, of course.

'Wait, the dragons are working for the humans? Lame!' she called out, getting to her feet. As if reminded of their current situation, everyone leapt back into action - the people ran, the dragons wreaked havoc, and a guy fell out of the sky. Sword tip shoved against the ground, Erised leaned on its hilt, watching as the bald, beefy dude clambered out of the tarp. Their gazes met for a brief moment, then his attention snapped to the girl being kidnapped.

Erised straightened. She looked at the kid being taken away in the distance, looked at the bald, beefy dude, looked at the kid, then finally settled on the bald, beefy dude.

'Dammit!' she said, 'You're the protagonist, aren't you? I really wanted that horse.'

A spray of fire shot overhead. The market was well on its way to being a bonfire. The stifling presence of smoke, blood, and charred meat hung heavy in the air. Sweat prickled on Erised's skin but its slight coolness gave no reprieve from the surrounding heat. The dragons were relentless; people were still running past. Even in their haste, they gave her a wide berth. Funny how societal propriety still stood stark in their minds even in the midst of disaster.

There were many ways she could continue on from here. Join the dragons in their havoc. Help the villagers. Chase after the girl. Erised hummed to herself, swaying back and forth. For all the desire around her, she had none right now. Not for herself, at least. This type of situation wasn't new. Did it even matter what she chose to do? After what Teresa had showed her...

Was there a point?

Her lips curled back into a snarl. Anger, a familiar friend, crawled up her chest.

'I'm having none of this. I'm not the damn robot.' Even after everything, nothing had changed. She was the same. She was the same, dammit!

She straightened up, yanking the sword off the ground and turning back to the beefy, bald dude with a considering look. Then, as another stream of fire burst close to where they were, she looked up.

'I'm getting a ride,' she said. Then she leapt. Flight - an easy thing to replicate once she got her head wrapped around the concept. Generating a gravity-defying organ, manipulating graviton particles to allow her mass to be in places it shouldn't - it was all scientific mumbo-jumbo to her but copying it from diagrams and sheets worked well enough on most Earths. This was no different. She soared through the sky, grace and dignity in her every movement as she headed for one of the dragons. Like a petal caught in the buffets of a strong wind, she ducked and dodged and twisted through the air like a seasoned natural.

That had been the plan. In truth, she'd only made it as far as the first step, only with none of the grace and dignity. She skyrocketed straight up into the sky and plummeted through the clouds, a wriggling ball of hair and uncontrolled limbs. There was no time to scream, not with the rush of wind and inertia and heat shoving against her face. Did she still have her sword? Yes, she did and she probably should try not to stab herself while flailing like this. Impaled by her own weapon of her own doing was an embarrassing first death in any dimension.

That was the problem with doing things on a whim: she just kept forgetting the important details. Like the fact that this was clearly not an Earth, that this was probably some other planet with lighter gravity, and that her ears were popping with incredible pain from the pressure.

'You absolute pie-eating moron.'

---

𝖀𝖕 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖓...

The presence of the traitor had not been missed. It would have been hard to, what with him crashing into their home like that. The khusa dragons closed in, crowding in around where the traitor lay on the narrow ledge. There weren't many places to approach the traitor, considering where he was positioned, but this was their home and the khusas' reputation for climbing ability was not for show. They were on either side of him on his ledge. Most were gathered on the edge of the cliff face high above, ready to pounce.

Fluffed-out cream feathers, black wings, red eyes; the khusas hadn't had the upper hand in the colour scheme lucky draw. Pairs of yellow horns protruded along the side of their heads and tufts of black fluff hung under their chins. The quadrupedal animals' long tails were raised up high - a display of aggression.

One stood out against from the line of khusas gathered on the lip of the cliff - not in appearance, but from his stance. The entire upper half of his body hung down the cliff, black claws embedded into the rough stone. Valen bared his fangs, a disdainful snarl escaping him.

'He's dead.'

If asked, every single khusa present would deny that they heaved a sigh of relief. As tough as the khusas were, they weren't entirely sure they'd face up to an arist.

'Dabi, tell the florets that the threat's been taken care of.' Valen sent this to the one on his right, though on a smaller channel, one that the immediately surrounding khusas could tune into. Dabi hissed softly, an expression of agreement, and turned away, marching off. His build was smaller than the average khusa but his every movement warned off underestimating him in battle.

Valen turned back to the rest of his expectant clan, backing up over the cliff's lip to stand before it.

'Everyone, clear off,' he sent on their mass channel, 'The Guards will dispose of this scum.'

'Valen, the village!' The message was sent on a private channel and Valen glanced towards the khusa on his other side. This one had a cape of black draping around the nape of his neck, fanning out around the shoulders, and drooping as a line down the front of each of his forepaws. Secor.

Valen looked towards the spot of what was flames and faint screaming at the foot of the mountain, just fast enough to catch sight of the human shooting straight up into the sky. His tail shot upwards, tense, and he released a breathy growl.

It couldn't be possible. Flight at that speed and altitude required a mastery of air magic that humans couldn't possibly have gained yet. He was aware that some were learning magic but there had been none who had made notable progress just yet. Their community may live in the mountains, preferring to stay uninvolved in the mess their land was in, but they weren't secluded. He would have known.

'Secor, go, stay low, and observe. Tell me what the situation is. Find out who that human is and what it can do, if you can,' he said. 'Do not get involved.'

Secor responded with a soft hiss, already turning away to scamper off.

'With heart, Valen,' he sent, though he didn't look back.

'With heart, Secor.' Valen glanced back at the burning village. His eyes narrowed.

A human proficient in magic? Guardian help them all.

A Small, Sleepy Town

Him

Species: Black cat (Winged)
Age: 1 year
Gender: Male

Description

CUTIE

Smaller than your average 1-year-old cat, he has a matted black coat, white whiskers, wide yellow eyes, and a broad, sweeping tail. His wings, tucked away on his back, are much the same as his coat. His build is lean and slight, perfect for him to dodge and run away from any predators, and his gait speaks of a cat who knows how to hunt his own food.

Personality

He grew up in a cat colony - with this background, he recognises cats as possible allies, but everything else as food or danger. He is more likely to run away or hide than to stand his ground. He doesn't want to fight. He's a cat who just wants to be safe and happy with a full belly.

Species Lore

In a time lost in history, cats were once said to have wings. It was an extension of their power, a physical manifestation of their superior blood – magic. They used to soar in the skies, hunting birds as they would mice, and using their magic to suit each their own needs. Their individual abilities ranged from the powerful, such as creating typhoons on a whim with their wings, to the whimsical, such as shedding their coat to grow an entirely different fur pattern. Magic for each cat can be different in subtle and outrageous ways and the cats have never questioned the what or how behind their blood.

These cats often lived together in colonies. However, they rarely flew together - their hunts were separate, each individual hunting for itself. Females would hunt extra prey to bring back to the colony for the kits.

With the ability to fly, these cats upped their mating game. Males were forced to chase after the females in-flight. They depended on the grace, speed, or style of their flight patterns to impress the females and once successful, the females would allow themselves to be caught for mating. If males caught females before successfully impressing them, the females would react aggressively and the chase would either end in a fight or the females touching down and running away from the males on the ground - this signals the definite end of the mating attempt.

A Small, Sleepy Town

*

a ѕмall, ѕleepy тown

Source: Joseph Rogers

In a world not too different from our own, there is a small, sleepy town. There is work, there is school, but life goes slow in this small, sleepy town. Friendly residents, leisurely travellers, everyone here takes their sweet time getting through the day. Why hurry? In this small, sleepy town, there's no rush.

Even when strange things happen.

Of course, there are no strange things in this small, sleepy town. If there were any, they'd be gladly welcome here. Don't worry your pretty head about it. There is nothing to worry about in this small, sleepy town. And speaking of welcomes...

This is a small, sleepy town known as Squarespace. Don't mind the winged black cat in the sky. Do remember to responsibly dispose all chewing gum wrappers. (No, really. We are a small, sleepy town, but we will find any and all irresponsible gum chewers and educate them by demonstrating proper disposal techniques.) Don't alarm our residents if you spot anything strange. Remember, strange things are welcome here.

Most importantly, do enjoy your stay.

*

A Small, Sleepy Town

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a... what?

Cold. The small black cat in the sky shivered, then sneezed, the action throwing him off for two heart-stopping seconds. Then he righted himself, every flap of his wings sending another bite of ice through him.

He dived down between two weird big things, touched down on the dirt, then shook himself. Water was nice, but being covered with it in the cold definitely was not. In the darkness of the narrow space he was in - which smelled of earth, some other cat's pee, and general mustiness - he sat, enjoying the quiet. It was well-deserved, considering what had transpired just moments before, but! This space was warmer than the sky had been and there was no one to disturb him here, so he was content to sit, and stay, and soak up what little respite he could get.

After 10 minutes of alternating between laying down and cleaning off his damp fur, however, the cat decided that this warm space was still not a familiar space. Unfamiliar meant unknown and unknown meant different and different meant...

He got up and stretched, his feathers drooping as his wings flared out. Wandering to the mouth of the warm space, he started sniffing the tall, cornered things walling him in.

Outside was strange. A black, long strip in the middle of the ground, perpendicular to him, and it smelt strongly of... something. He didn't know what. There were more big things in a neat row beyond the strip, each a uniform shape with triangle tops. Yet, despite their bland similarities, each big thing seemed to have their differences. Small things that made each of them unique.

Like the smells. From the big thing on his right - and indeed he had discerned that he was between the same big things as the ones across the strip - the scents were stale, telling him that no one had been there in a while. But the one on the left had fresh scents wafting towards him - food! He wasn't hungry, but the smell had his senses tingling anyway. Meat, something sweet, and something he couldn't identify but still smelt like food. Despite it all, he stayed where he was, tail twitching irritably. These tantalising scents weren't enough to push away the same familiar scent that lingered in all the big things, the strip, and the space he was in: humans.

He was in predator territory. Now what?

---

Ron

'Typical. Not a snowflake in sight and the weather still manages to freeze us half to death.'

Ron was a man of average looks, with a scruffy beard, light brown hair that parted nicely down the middle, and a sandstone frontier jacket. He was also a man who itched for a cigarette. Instead, he kept his hands on the table, fiddling with the corner of his folded newspaper. Sure, he was on the outdoor patio of the Ink Cafe, but they were strict about their no-smoking policy. Besides, he hated disappointing Karen.

'Here's your coffee.' Speak of the devil. He smiled back at Karen, a lovely lady in her mid-twenties, as she set down his mug, steam lazily rising above it. As always, she looked positively charming, even in the cafe's uniform purple dress. Especially in the cafe's uniform purple dress. It bore more resemblance to a coat now, though - an adjustment for the colder weather.

'Thanks, Karen,' he said, reaching to shift the mug closer to himself. Then, just as she made to turn away, he blurted out, 'You... growing your hair out?'

She turned to face him fully, raising an eyebrow. Then she jerked her head to the side, reaching up to tentatively card her fingers through her ponytail. It was short, its end barely brushing her shoulder, but it was longer than the auburn bobcut it had been before.

'It's not bad, is it?' she said. A little crease of worry appeared between her brows and she shifted on her feet.

'No, no!' said Ron, 'It's, uh, it's just new, is all. It looks fine.' At her uncertain expression, he continued, 'Really! It's a nice change.'

'Well... if you say so.' Her gaze drifted downwards to the table and something must have caught her attention because she perked up then, her smile lighting up her face and in turn, Ron's short life.

'Cute!'

'Yeah, you are,' said Ron, amused.

Her cheeks reddened. 'No! I-I mean, thank you!' She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as if to clear her thoughts. When she opened her eyes, her gaze was resolutely pinned to the newspaper on the table as she tapped on it. 'I meant the newspaper, Ron.'

Still grinning, he propped up the newspaper. The headline screamed back at him, 'WINGED BLACK CAT SPOTTED IN THE SKY'. A picture of a smudged black dot against the sky's pale backdrop accompanied the words, but there was only the vaguest outline of what could possibly be wings extended on either side of the small figure. He glanced at the article below, skimming over the sentences.

'This morning it says.' News always did travel fast in Squarespace. He looked back up at Karen. 'You think it's real? Picture doesn't exactly show a cat. Could be a bird for all we know.'

'Ron, this is the news, not sensationalised trash like Everyday. Besides, if it were real, it'd be cute to think about, wouldn't it?' The distant jingle of bells, signifying a patron's entrance, caught her attention and she turned on her heel, flashing him a quick apologetic smile. 'Gotta go! Have a nice day, you.'

He shook his head at the exchange, smiling to himself. Lifting his coffee mug to his lips, he took a long moment to savour his liquid nirvana. Just another thing he loved about Ink Cafe. Good, free coffee if he bought a newspaper from them. That was basically one-third the usual price. He'd asked Karen once if it impacted the cafe badly - it had to, it was in no way a sound business practice - but she'd only shaken her head and pressed a finger to her lips. His heart throbbed at the thought of her.

Still...

'A flying cat,' he muttered, 'Well, I'll be.'

*

And so the winter season in Squarespace begins.

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

K I M B E V E R I D G E

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Location | The campgrounds on Red Rock Canyon
Interacting with | Emi @NeoAJ, AJ @TootsiePop
Mentions | Jules @Vox
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Sudden pressure. Additional warmth. External sensation. Kim knew what this was.

Physical contact.

'Emi-' she started, attempting to draw away from her friend, but Emilia kept on talking right over her. Kim shuffled, discomfited, but Emilia was far too close for her to pull away completely. 'It was the shoulder touch earlier, wasn't it? What else could it have been? I should never have-'

'...not thinking about that fucking asshole Brandon!'

What.

Kim could only stare at Emi in disbelief as she continued her rant, babbling about seemingly everything she had on her mind. Emi getting heated over something was one thing, but the profanity peppered in like sesame seeds on a burger bun was... well, it hadn't even been a thing before.

Then Emi leaned in close, draping over Kim as if Kim was some kind of seat cushion. Kim was not a seat cushion. She did not, now or ever, want to be a seat cushion. As if to mock her nonexistent desire, Emi's arm, brushing along Kim as it slipped from its place across her shoulders, snagged on her earpiece's wires and succeeded in pulling out one earbud and dislodging the other so it hung tentatively on the shell of her ear.

'That's it.'

'Emilia.' Kim's tone, sharpened with ice, snapped against the space Emi's voice had previously taken up. 'You're in my space. Let go of me. Please.'

Nate and Val seemed to be MIA, Umbra was... well, Kim wasn't sure, and Sami pre-occupied with his thoughts for the future. At the present moment, Jules seemed to be the best option for help. She opened her mouth to call out to him-

Then stiffened.

Craning her neck, she blinked at the Gearhead kneeling behind them. She hadn't heard what he'd said, exactly, but she'd caught the sound of a whisper.

'Oh, it's you.' Strained from the prolonged physical contact, her voice came out tenser than intended. Not exactly a snap, but it wasn't a warm welcome either. If Emilia would just let go already, maybe Kim could find it in herself to feel bad about it. As it was, she just really wanted Emi to release her.

Preferably in the next second.

Ex Nihilo

TW: A poorly-written fight scene.
EDIT: Drastic edit to the second section due to continuity mistake.

CHERYL LUSBY

Jack. One syllable. It was its simpleness that stood out to Cheryl, more than its unusual nature. Names like that weren't common in Nihilo - it was possible that he was using an alias.

'You will bring the outworlder.'

Or not. Either that kind of name was common from whatever shithole place he'd crawled out of or his actual name was weirder and he was attempting to use a version that people could actually pronounce. Come to think of it, if Jack really was from another world, didn't that make him an alien? It wasn't far-fetched, considering what she knew about the antarean dragons. Still... the concept was strange to think about it.

'Forget it. I can worry about it in the morning.'

Naturally, the universe decided to spit in her face as soon as the thought came. A wave of magic-no, not magic, magic didn't feel like this, what was this power-crashed through her and she stiffened, halting her steps. She barely managed to suppress her shudder, if only because of her muscles locking up, instinct telling her to get the flame away from whatever the hell-behind her-

Death.

Without an inch of hesitation, she twisted around on her heel, unsheathed her knife, and stopped its tip a centimetre before it could pierce Jack's throat.

'You listen carefully,' she growled. Piper, shifting a little at the movement, only wrapped his tail around her neck, chuffing softly in his sleep. 'I don't give a flying flame what the deal is with your strange magic, but if you don't get it under control and you hurt one of us, I'm taking off your flaming head. So get it under control.' Then, because she felt like it, 'Dipmeat.'

Whether Jack responded or not, Cheryl paid him no more mind. She turned back towards the stable, shoving her knife back into its sheath. She didn't stomp - that wasted energy and she was far too tired for that. Her steps were brisk, considerably speedier than they had been before her outburst. Anger, frustration; these were better fuel for energy than any amount of jump juice could be.

As she approached a particular stall, however, her frustration melted away somewhat. Guinea hissed, a sound that sounded like a cross between a spit and something coming out of her throat - her means of a friendly greeting.

Guinea was a horse of... remarkable build. Her skin - indeed, her body featured no coat - was a dusty grey in the moonlight's pale light and the only hair she had stuck up in haphazard, clumped tufts of mane that stretched halfway down her neck and drooped sadly along the tip of her tail. A horn curved up from her forehead, rings of tiny little spikes peeking out along the way, and met a pointy end. A set of two smaller horns jutted out on each of her cheeks, though they pointed to the front instead of the sides, a slight outward bend to them. Her cloven hooves featured a similar bend. Her eyes seemed sunken, almost pupils in their entirety. However, a closer look would show that she indeed had sclera; the sunken appearance was an affect of dim lighting. Her most prominent feature was her mouth. Her teeth reached forward, incisors serving as her lips whenever she closed her mouth.

Overall, the immediate image she might give a person at a passing glance was a drowned rat in the form of a horse.

Cheryl closed in, within perfect distance of having her head bitten off by those incisors.

'How you doing, Guinea?' she said, patting Guinea idly along her neck. Guinea opened her mouth, strands of saliva stretching wide between her teeth with some drops dribbling over, and let out another hissing gargle. Cheryl looked up at the sound of a distant inhuman shriek, her gaze sparing the distance a second before settling on Jack's face. Upon spotting his expression, she smirked.

'Welcome to Nihilo, stranger,' she said. 'Just another Tosus night for us murderers.' She checked the saddle, her sparse belongings - never could be too sure, considering her reputation. 'You ridden a horse before, Jack?'

---

🄴🄽🅃🄴🅁 🅃🄷🄴 🄾🅄🅃🅂🄸🄳🄴🅁

By the side of the grimy road leading to Sonarlis, a child appeared. There was no dramatic flash of magic or mystical sounds. She simply appeared, stumbling a couple steps forward as if touching down from a jump and having the inertia of it pushing her forward. Her legs folded and she sat on her knees with a thump, her stricken gaze pinned to the dirt.

'Hhh, hhh.'

Judging from appearance alone, the girl seemed to be around 11 or 12 years of age. Dark, unruly locks spilled around her shoulders, their length reaching the middle of her back. She wore a loose orange t-shirt with sleeves ending in the middle of her upper arms. Beneath those sleeves, another set of grey sleeves creeped out, hugging her arms as they disappeared into the space beneath her blood red gloves. Brown shorts and a pair of scuffed sneakers completed the look.

Her name was Erised.

'Hhh.'

Her gloved hands were tight fists on her lap. Her teeth clenched so hard, they creaked.

'You coward.'

She lifted her fist and slammed it down into the dirt - an impulsive action. Ignoring the pain, she growled, closed her eyes, then huffed a sigh. It was so easy, acting on anger, but so tiring. Still, most other negative, less aggressive, emotions were pests she could hardly be bothered to deal with. Anger was familiar, comfortable. Invulnerable, in a way.

Forget it. She was here now, wherever "here" was. All she knew was that she'd stepped into a dimension that wasn't the one she'd just run away from.

'Can I even call that running? I didn't step into the place.' She got up, dusting off her pants. 'Whatever. Far as I'm concerned, there's no reason I can't stay here a bit. Can't be that different from all the rest. So long as they got the good stuff, I'm down.'

The sun inched its way up the pale sky, a few puffy clouds idly drifting by. Morning. The temperature wasn't too bad: not too warm, not too chilly. She stretched, wriggling her toes and rolling her wrists. Her core vessel's forms were always similar, but it never really felt the same in each different dimension she stepped into.

'Let's see...' she said aloud, peering at the nearest sign - a huge board held up by two posts, letters scratched into it. 'Sonarlis, huh?' She looked past the sign and towards the village that lay beyond the river's bridge. It seemed to be in the middle of waking up for the day. People were milling around, doing boring people things, and wearing... tunics. Erised wrinkled her nose. What, were they in the Dark Ages or something?

A glance around showed her that the road she was standing by lead off into the forest - this seemed to be the closest she'd get to civilisation. She squinted into the distance behind the village, shielding her eyes as she looked upwards at the mountain looming over it. If things got too boring, she could always climb it or something. Movement at the edge of her vision caught her attention and she shifted her gaze to the left of the mountain.

'...Huh.' A pale pink circle slowly, but surely, making its way across the sky. A moon, most likely. At the rate it was going, the moon would drop right over the horizon and disappear before the day was out.

'Godspeed, little guy,' she said, shooting off a two-fingered salute to the pink blob.

Grinning, she set off. As she crossed the bridge and wandered into the village, leaving the sound of burbling water behind her, she didn't miss the eyes of the villagers darting towards her as she waltzed in. Instead of meeting their gazes, she raised her arms, crossed them behind her head, and continued walking, flippancy in every step. The marketplace ahead of her was a clustered bundle of stalls crammed together, people sleepily setting up shop. Some were already waiting at their stalls, presumably for customers.

'Ey, sulchir. Sulchir!'

Erised paused, turning her head to look over at what seemed to be the village stables, her arms still behind her head. Some guy, with a tunic like all the rest, standing by the closest stall was staring at her, frowning. Her gaze met his, then immediately skipped over to the beast whose bridle the man was holding. It was a horse - she could recognise its equine form easily enough - but the haggard, grey strands of its mane drooped down almost to its hooves. It seemed to be built more for power than for speed, its bulky form featuring a smooth black coat. Its eyes were pools of murky, empty bluish-white fog - no sclera in them.

They were pretty to look at, Erised thought.

'Sulchir! Su ta oudier?'

'Huh, what?' said Erised, shifting her attention back to the tunic guy.

'Quia forisu partibus non circum ambulant mico... tilla?!' he sputtered, waving his hands up and down like he was having a seizure.

'Whoa, hey, slow down, buddy, I can't understand anything you just said,' said Erised. She leaned back, still not fully facing him. 'I'm guessing you can't understand me either, can you?'

Tunic guy's face reddened to that of a ripe tomato and his flailing only increased further, much to her amusement. 'Postul su vosa retam et vade in domumus, iu venis!'

'You know, the only word I caught was "in",' said Erised. At this point, she'd gathered what he'd wanted; his Desire was screaming much louder than he was. Her attire must be taboo in this place because wow, that was way too much desperation for a change of clothes.

The guy looked as if he was about to explode in the next moment and Erised tilted her head, lips quirked in a cocky grin.

When the explosion came, however, it was not from him. A surge of power caught her off-guard and she stumbled a step sideways, arms stubbornly staying in place behind her head. The tunic man tumbled right onto his butt, only letting go of the horse's bridle when it had been pulled to its limit and snapped away from his grip. The creature jerked its head away from the man, a deep growl that did not sound like a horse emanating from its throat.

Erised raised her eyebrows, glancing over to where the power surge had come from. It wasn't hard to spot the raging whirlwind towering over the squat buildings and the gazebos of the marketplace, though she couldn't see its base from where she stood. She whistled, eyeing the bits of produce and small barrels caught in the snags of the whirlwind. The gazebos themselves struggled to stay on the ground.

'Bet you your horse we got a main protagonist here!' she called to the tunic guy over the whistling wind. He didn't reply, shaking on the ground, his eyes glued to the direction of the whirlwind.

'Got myself a free horse,' muttered Erised, grinning away as she approached the edge of the marketplace. The pressure of the power surge pushed against her, but she pushed back just as hard. It was only raw power, after all. Uncontrolled, unrefined power - could be as deadly as an atomic bomb or a water balloon, depending on the user.

Then, just as she turned the corner, the power surge stopped. This also meant the whirlwind fell apart, collapsing into itself and sending out one final blast of wind sweeping over the market. The nearest row of gazebos gave up, their supports snapping and the tarps fluttering to the ground, draping over people too shocked to move. The crates, barrels, and produce previously spinning in the sky finally bent to the whims of gravity, aggressively decorating the cobblestone street with smashed up wood and battered produce. Erised sidestepped a barrel, then reached out her hand to snatch what looked like a tomato from the air.

'Watch your head,' she called out to a woman, who seemed too shaken to think about looking up, and gave an empathetic wince as a rectangular fruit, the size of a watermelon, promptly crashed on her head. That was a concussion, for sure.

She turned her attention to the source of all the commotion. A little girl - kind of looked like her nonexistent age - a beefy dude, and some guard. 'I bet it's the kid who did all that. Why is it always the kids with all the crazy powers?' She bit into the tomato in her palm, then spat it back out on the cobblestone street. Strong, sour taste. Definitely not a tomato.

'Su! Sulchir!'

She looked up, tossing the not-tomato aside. The guard was approaching her now. The kid and beefy dude stayed where they were, discussing among themselves.

''Sup, royal guard?' Rocking on her heels, hands folded behind her back, Erised eyed him, her usual smirk plastered on her face. Decked out in red armour and a tight grip on his sword hilt, he seemed like the type of self-righteous pieface Erised liked to punch.

'Visetr norno in propriis sutamic farsiea pesalir suae velit,' he sniffed, looking down his nose at her. 'Ite in domumus. Murtae.'

There was no room for argument in his tone. Erised maintained her gaze, still rocking back and forth on her heels. Still smirking away.

At her lack of response, the guard's eyes flashed and his face contorted into an ugly mass of wrinkles - rage. In one swift movement, he drew out his sword and had its tip pointed at her throat.

'Norno harent tempus kad agat inposesler brats sirilis su,' hissed the guard, 'Indisgrus es te suyet et conspectu omnium, vos-'

'Nope.' Erised grabbed hold of the sword's tip, ignoring the sharp pain when it bit through her glove and into her skin. She yanked the sword out of the guard's grip, loosened with surprise, and her other hand grabbed hold of its hilt. The guard glanced at his empty hand, then back at her, wide-eyed. He had only time to flinch when the tip of his own sword came to rest lightly against his throat.

Erised cocked her head, flexing her free hand. Despite the cut, no blood flowed from it. Already, the slit in the glove was knitting back together and, presumably, the cut beneath it as well.

'Still can't understand you, pal.'