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Post by mintedstar/fur on Jul 4, 2019 5:47:15 GMT -5
"I don't follow." Hector told Maladict, only catching a bit of what he'd explained about Nuggen. "Though it sounds like he is the high priest of your country. Perhaps one driven more by the desire for power or control than piety?" The details, Hector wasn't sure of. But he could guess that Mal's world had problems that appeared in his own as well. "That uniform's been through some battles." Hector commented with a nod towards the bloodied and battered clothes Maladict wore. "But have you? Do you know what you're doing? How to fight?" The Trojan had only met Maladict a few times, but he didn't want any harm to come to him. And the leaders of that endless war didn't sound like they particularly cared about their soldiers. "Not that I know of. But I have two siblings who have the gift of prophecy. Helenus and Cassandra- they have met the gods." Hector didn't mention that his sister Cassandra was mad. She could see the gods. It wasn't her fault if nothing she said made sense. "And a brother of mine has met several goddesses. Paris." There was a stark difference in Hector's tone. Fondness for the twins, none of which was present when he spoke of his younger brother Paris. Ah, family drama. Except it was all mixed up with the gods and wars and politics. But Hector blamed Paris for the war he had brought to the city, and there was nothing that could make up for that in Hector's mind. "He is not," said Maladict. "But I am not particularly sure whether he is a logical god. There is always slight murmurers he is mad." Maladict thought that was a bit too easy of an out for a god. But then again, he couldn't have said what he had just said if he had been back in Borogravia. If he had been back in his own country than he would have gotten a couple glares and shushes - because he was a vampire and no one felt they could afford to annoy him. But he might have gotten gears in the ... tougher crowds. The army was a bit different. Just so long as they weren't talking to the religious fanatic of the group everyone else seemed to agree that Nuggen was off his rocker. Maladict had a sword by his side. It was one of the few things which wasn't battered. That was because he had brought it with him. But still Maladict hesitated before answering. "I can take a man's head off without any difficulty," he said. Perhaps that was the hesitation. "I did just get out of a fight ... but not a battle. None of this came from that." He didn't know what he was doing. He was ... just doing it. Mal's eyebrows rose. "Prophesy? So does that mean you know the future? What happens in your war?" The eyebrow fell at the mention of someone called Paris. Not because Maladict knew of him, but because he could tell Hector's opinion of him. He didn't ask, respecting Hector's privacy.
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Pansexual
Cloverleaf
For certain as our banner flies, we are not alone. The people too must rise.
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Post by Cloverleaf on Jul 4, 2019 8:52:35 GMT -5
Enjolras turned a corner, resting a colder-than-usual hand on the mist slick stones of the the empty building. Figures were visible through the mist, and then Enjolras heard someone call his name. The vampire hurried over to Kid and some of the other blinkers, recognizing them as blinkers instead of the House generated mov, even if he didn't exactly know who they were besides the person who had called him over. "Kid?" He asked, not quite recognizing the wrapped form. "I take it this is some sort of room. Anything terrible happen yet or an I just in time for that?" His voice had an uncharacteristic lisp as he spoke around the fangs that curled around the corners of his lower lips.
His gaze wandered to the dragon that was towering above them. Blinker, probably, since no one was panicking at its presence. Enjolras didn't fully trust, it, though. There was a look of hunger in its eyes.
"Survive first, understand later." Enjolras nodded in agreement with the others. What a time to be a newbie. "Welcome to the Paradox House. It's usually like this."
A shout echoed down the street from a particularly riled up member of the mob, but the noise was clearly getting closer. He took a sideways step down the street, looking to the others. "Let's put some distance between us and them, then see if we can figure out what the House wants us to do." Enjolras offered, finding himself gravitating to a leadership position.
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Pansexual
Cloverleaf
For certain as our banner flies, we are not alone. The people too must rise.
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Post by Cloverleaf on Jul 4, 2019 10:47:58 GMT -5
Hector raised an eyebrow at Maladict's explanation of the religion in his world, murmuring a quiet hmmm. It was quite foreign to him. Though so were most other's worlds. That was just how the House was.
Hector nodded once as Maladict confirmed he could fight. Good. He would need that ability, both in the House and his own world. At Maladict's next question, Hector paused thoughtfully for a moment before sharing his own world view.
"In a way, yes. But it is not always helpful. The gods are often cryptic, and an attempt to change fate ends well for no mortal. Fate is born with us, and no one can escape theirs." Hector answered. "There are various prophecies. Some say that if this or that, or other various things happen, it will tell who will win the war. But it's not like flipping a coin."
Hector looked over to the hallway where rows of endless doors stretched away from the one haven the House offered. He'd never chosen a door himself, just blinked into rooms others had already gone into. "Speaking of testing fate, have you ever chosen a door?"
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jul 4, 2019 11:39:39 GMT -5
It was nice, Orpheus had to admit, to hear music filling the room even when it wasn’t his. Even when it wasn’t really a song, because wasn’t any collection of notes a song, technically? He wanted to think that it was. He wanted to believe that practice and learning could produce something beautiful in the same way serious study could. He wanted to believe that L’s careful strumming - experimental and strange - could give to the world, even as simple as it was. He wanted to believe in something good when he saw the look on L’s face and knew that the answer he was going to receive wasn’t the one he wanted. L wasn’t going to speak of appreciating the good times even despite the bad. He wasn’t going to say that maybe the good outweighed the bad. Just from his expression, which had been unreadable before, Orpheus knew. And he wished he didn’t. And the look in L’s eyes when he finally made eye contact again. Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps the House was just as bad as any world, and he’d just been fortunate with his first two blinks. Perhaps the monsters here were more dangerous than the very real ones that lurked back in his own world. For the first time since he’d passed L the guitar, he wanted it back just to pour out the fear and uncertainty that now filled him. But no. No, this was an opportunity. He would not be cowed by someone else’s experiences, even someone he trusted inexplicably. “Then we make it even.” Orpheus’ words were soft, and he knew it was an impossible task. Knew and didn’t want to admit it, because if you said it was impossible then it would be. But so was bringing back Spring, wasn’t it? “We take back from it everything it’s taken from you and whoever else comes here. We smile when we shouldn’t and we laugh and we play music and we prove to it that we can be happy.” Orpheus believed in humanity. He believed in living more than just surviving, but he had a lot of respect for those who even managed to survive. It sounded like this place he had ended up lacked that respect. “For every life it takes we sing louder and prove that it can’t break us down that easy…” his voice cracked, but he kept going. “For every heart it tears apart we sew it back together, but stronger. Isn’t that… isn’t that how we fight back? Isn’t that the point?” His voice was so soft it was barely audible, but there was a type of naive and bullheaded and beautiful and powerful conviction to it. Orpheus knew it wasn’t his battle to fight, as it hadn’t hurt him yet, but… he had been brought here, hadn’t he? It had dragged him into this fight. And oddly enough, he found he didn’t want to leave. “Starting now, we make it even. Please. I’m not leaving until it’s even.” L looked down, his hands clasped together. He’d wanted to lie to the other man. He’d wanted to say that life was cruel but the House was fair, that something in a place beyond time and space and anything either of them had ever known could be balanced. But he didn’t think anything could balance the horror of Myrnin’s hand around his throat, those green, green orbs stabbing deep into his darker ones. He didn’t think flowers and warm bread could hope to make Claire’s hand reaching for Czeslaw’s terrified face any less horrible. And he refused to lie to Orpheus. He would not insult the poet. If their places had been reversed, he would have preferred an agonizing truth to a soothing lie, and he knew Orpheus felt the same, even though it hurt.He looked up, startled as the newer blinker began to speak, his voice failing him in places but his features determined. The detective’s eyes widened until they looked like two black moons, and he listened, and he kept listening until there was quiet again. He reached out, almost without meaning to, and grasped Orpheus’s hand in a trembling, vice-like grip. “Teach me how to sing.” He whispered. Begged, maybe. “Teach me how to help you make it even.” Orpheus glanced down at L's hands, trying to keep his own from trembling. He was so certain he could turn this around that it hurt, so certain that his heart felt like it was full to bursting because if he could do anything... if he had the power to change anything at all... he would make this place even. No matter what it took. And maybe it was naivety or maybe it was arrogance, but he knew in his heart that he could do it. He knew it. So he nodded, slowly. He would teach L to make the House brighter... to even out the bad, to take revenge in a soft and nonviolent way. He would do everything he could and more. He knew he was taking on something far more powerful than he was, but if he had L at his side? If he could get more allies in this? They could do it. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't afraid as long as he wasn't alone. "I'll teach you how to sing," he said, trying to make his voice work. The words sounded more tentative than he felt, but all of his urgency and good intentions and even pain at what he had heard seeped into his voice. "I'll teach you how to sing and then we'll make it even."
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jul 4, 2019 12:57:35 GMT -5
Sherlock blinked into the living room, his deerstalker resting sideways on his head so it covered his left earl He looked pensive. It was perhaps a sign of how lost in thought he’d been that he didn’t immediately throw the hat away from him upon his appearance, or even seem to register it right away. Then he noticed it and scrambled up, his hand snatching the hat off his head before he was even on his feet, and he threw it as hard as he could at the opposite wall. “Well that was satisfying.” He muttered, grinning a little, then glanced around. “Alone? Not for long, undoubtedly, eh, House? Not much fun on our own, you’ll blink in someone else in a moment.”
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Asexual
zeph!
tired + busy but i'd like to say hello again :]
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Post by zeph! on Jul 4, 2019 13:06:54 GMT -5
Despite "Liam" asking an understandable question, giving the circumstances, Sky still felt her face heat up. "I'm a witch." She said shortly, "I think I've been Transfigured though... Only problem is, I don't know what." At his strange background, Sky raised her eyebrows but took his hand nonetheless.
She nodded to the two other blinkers. She tried to look determined, but her eyes were still wide, and she was still freaked out. The other room wasn't like this. At all. She thought. It hadn't registered to her before that the House could be dangerous. But now, she was wondering if people had gotten hurt or even died in the walls.
Sky began walking in the direction the vampire was heading in, all while trying to block those thoughts from her head. It definitely wasn't the time.
(I'm probably going to change her roleplay profile image lol. Sorry it's so smol)
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Jul 4, 2019 13:51:12 GMT -5
"Welcome to the Paradox House. It's usually like this." (I'm going to wait to reply. But hands down favorite quote of the day.)
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Post by Protractor on Jul 4, 2019 14:41:16 GMT -5
Roger decided to follow suit."Maybe this place has a coffee maker."He shrugged as he followed the "witch".
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Post by Sησω on Jul 4, 2019 15:19:05 GMT -5
FOOD. . . Quick, what was I thinking about before? Anika wondered. However, it was no use - she couldn't recall anything from what the mummy had said. Who was the mummy again, and what was important about him? SNACK. She felt like there was something else, but it was the only thing she could remember. HUNGRY. MUST. EAT. the message repeated in her mind a few more times. At last, she couldn't contain it anymore. The last bit of conscious thought she had was consumed by hunger. HUNGRY. MUST. EAT. The Emperor stood up on her hind legs. All eleven heads let out a roar. Getting back on all fours, the feral beast's heads scavenged the ground and devoured most things that their massive jaws came into contact with. One head breathed out a stream of what looked to be lightning bolts. Her tail swished wildly behind her, doing damage to the buildings in its path.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jul 4, 2019 17:40:21 GMT -5
Sherlock blinked into the living room, his deerstalker resting sideways on his head so it covered his left earl He looked pensive. It was perhaps a sign of how lost in thought he’d been that he didn’t immediately throw the hat away from him upon his appearance, or even seem to register it right away. Then he noticed it and scrambled up, his hand snatching the hat off his head before he was even on his feet, and he threw it as hard as he could at the opposite wall. “Well that was satisfying.” He muttered, grinning a little, then glanced around. “Alone? Not for long, undoubtedly, eh, House? Not much fun on our own, you’ll blink in someone else in a moment.” Crutchie appeared, a sour look on his face. "Whaddya mean Kloppman kicked ya out? You'se not..." he trailed off as he noticed the House, his expression brightening slightly. He'd made a couple of friends here lately, and the House seemed to have a habit of blinking him in with those friends. He couldn't shake the hope that Jax would be there, or Matt, or... he stopped that train of thought before it reminded him too much of the people who didn't seem to blink in anymore. Who may have died, or worse... he couldn't help but hope that both Madoka and Felix were okay. But when he looked around all he saw was someone he was almost certain he'd never seen before.
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Post by mintedstar/fur on Jul 5, 2019 1:05:08 GMT -5
Hector raised an eyebrow at Maladict's explanation of the religion in his world, murmuring a quiet hmmm. It was quite foreign to him. Though so were most other's worlds. That was just how the House was. Hector nodded once as Maladict confirmed he could fight. Good. He would need that ability, both in the House and his own world. At Maladict's next question, Hector paused thoughtfully for a moment before sharing his own world view. "In a way, yes. But it is not always helpful. The gods are often cryptic, and an attempt to change fate ends well for no mortal. Fate is born with us, and no one can escape theirs." Hector answered. "There are various prophecies. Some say that if this or that, or other various things happen, it will tell who will win the war. But it's not like flipping a coin." Hector looked over to the hallway where rows of endless doors stretched away from the one haven the House offered. He'd never chosen a door himself, just blinked into rooms others had already gone into. "Speaking of testing fate, have you ever chosen a door?" (Sorry for disappearing! We were doing a lot of stuff for vacation!) Maladict knew that his world and the corresponding beliefs of his country made little or no sense to Hector. Maladict didn't know how much they made sense to him either. They were communicated, large things. He'd honestly understand politics more, just because of the family he came from. Hector's words had an unexpected reaction from Maladict. At the mention of inescapable fate, something about the vampire collapsed backwards in on itself. It was like a person who had been looking out of the windows of his eyes had finally made out the scenery beyond, hadn't liked what they'd seen, and moved back into Maladict to hide under a blanket. What replaced that viewer was a different watcher. A different face that might have been a bit tighter around the lips, but unless Hector had been paying really close attention, the shift between the two would have gone completely unnoticed. "So you can't just follow all the things which will bring you to victory because you don't know what they are," summarized Mal. "That's problematic." He glanced in the same direction as Hector was, looking at the portal to all of his minor problems as of late. Minor problems. His major problem was still the usual ones. Family, who he was, coffee, the army, his friends, coffee, missing coffee, the possibility they were loosing, coffee. Things like that. "I have once, I think," he said. "But I was with a group, so it was a bit difficult to say which of use chose it. What about you?"
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jul 5, 2019 10:27:57 GMT -5
Sherlock blinked into the living room, his deerstalker resting sideways on his head so it covered his left earl He looked pensive. It was perhaps a sign of how lost in thought he’d been that he didn’t immediately throw the hat away from him upon his appearance, or even seem to register it right away. Then he noticed it and scrambled up, his hand snatching the hat off his head before he was even on his feet, and he threw it as hard as he could at the opposite wall. “Well that was satisfying.” He muttered, grinning a little, then glanced around. “Alone? Not for long, undoubtedly, eh, House? Not much fun on our own, you’ll blink in someone else in a moment.” Crutchie appeared, a sour look on his face. "Whaddya mean Kloppman kicked ya out? You'se not..." he trailed off as he noticed the House, his expression brightening slightly. He'd made a couple of friends here lately, and the House seemed to have a habit of blinking him in with those friends. He couldn't shake the hope that Jax would be there, or Matt, or... he stopped that train of thought before it reminded him too much of the people who didn't seem to blink in anymore. Who may have died, or worse... he couldn't help but hope that both Madoka and Felix were okay. But when he looked around all he saw was someone he was almost certain he'd never seen before. Sherlock turned at the voice, a smirk quirking his sharp features up. “Hullo.” He said, then paused, a half frown covering his expression. It hovered for about three quarters of a second and then lifted, and he grinned as he ran a hand through his black curls. “I’m afraid we haven’t met yet, my name is Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective in my universe and a scientist everywhere else. You?”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jul 5, 2019 10:42:57 GMT -5
Sherlock tilted his head. It was so obviously a nickname, but was it? He caught himself. In his universe it would be, but here, it could simply be his real name, based on a different naming system entirely. “Crutchie.” He said it slowly, as though testing it out. “Nice name. So, who are those friends you wanted to see? Maybe I know them, assuming they’re all still alive of course, the house does love its drama, doesn’t it? Oh, and how about a room? The living rooms is so dull after the first few visits, and I've been here loads more than that.” He was being overly pushy and he knew it, but he was dying to solve a puzzle he wasn’t out of his depth with. His own world, in a word, had become....well, not boring. The opposite of boring. The thing that should have been good and for some reason wasn’t. That thing. “What do you say, Crutchie? Game? Too scared?”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jul 5, 2019 11:07:56 GMT -5
Sherlock’s smirk deepened as Crutchie reacted exactly the way he’d expected him to. People with something to prove were always predictable. “Of course not.” He murmured as he moved to follow the boy to the hall. He was fierce, clearly he was used to having to defend himself and fight twice as hard, almost certainly because of his crutch based on the way he reacted to being told he couldn’t do something. There was something else, too, but the detective ignored it for the time being, letting his mind chip away at it in the background as another puzzle he could crack. So many doors. He exhaled, the House as usual a place filled to the brim with possibilities. He turned and tilted his head down at his companion, his grin wide and not altogether friendly. “Pick a door, any door, why don’t you? I prefer to leave the House’s mood up to you.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jul 5, 2019 11:41:27 GMT -5
Sherlock could tell he was getting on Crutchie’s nerves. It was almost too easy to do, far too easy to resist. Almost not even satisfying. He stopped as Crutchie did, and met his challenge, his own eyes glittering. “After you.” He said, but the boy was already gone, and without a moment’s hesitation the detective followed. He clapped his hands over his ears immediately as shouts and people walking and everything else assaulted him at once, noise and lights and smells and noise. It was a school classroom. He squinted up front, but he wasn’t sure where the adult in charge of these monkeys were, so instead he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. “SHUT UP ALL OF YOU I CANNOT HEAR MYSELF THINK!”
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jul 5, 2019 12:25:13 GMT -5
Crutchie was used to noise. In a city as large as New York it was impossible to avoid, and in the lodging house, full of boys aged anywhere from six to seventeen, noise was a given factor, especially noises like this. He was far more comfortable here than he was in silence. Even on the rooftop in the middle of the night there was a good amount of sound from every source imaginable. He looked behind him at what was on the board, holding back a chuckle as he heard the children quiet and then start chattering and squealing with laughter even louder at Sherlock’s outburst. He knew how kids worked. He had taught a couple of kids in New York how to read, surely these wouldn’t be too difficult. “The Ulster Cycle,” He murmured, reading the board. “Hey!” He called to the kids. His voice cut through with surprising ease. He shouted something else in Irish, a language he hadn’t spoken in so long that still felt so natural. “Listen or you’se all gonna be turned into swans! You wanna know more about that?” A smile spread across his face. “Then listen up.”
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jul 5, 2019 15:06:31 GMT -5
Sherlock groaned, dropping his hands to his sides in something like despair as the children grew louder, not quieter. Truthfully, children were no as mysterious to him as adults were. One on one with them he was often okay, especially with minds similar to his own that didn’t mind his bluntness or tendency to bring up serial killers, But large groups? Excitement? They were like atoms, crashing into each other and speeding up every time, filled with too much energy to stop, uncontrolled and uncontrollable. Adults were like that too, really, they were just quieter about it. Sherlock would have liked the quieter version, really. His head snapped over to Crutchie as the boy shouted too and he opened his mouth to tell him to shut up, then realized what he’d said. “What?” He demanded, almost desperately. “Swans? Why will they turn into swans? Is it the room? Or did you just make that up to make them be quiet?” He narrowed his eyes at the smile. “Oh, you’re not enjoying this, are you? What, do you babysit in your world?”
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Post by Protractor on Jul 5, 2019 15:29:36 GMT -5
Roger stared at the multi headed dragon wide eyed."Oh my God!"He started running around in circles,lazily trying to find something to arm himself with.All he could see was a bunch of sticks."Why couldn't my pitch fork come with me?"He complained.
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Asexual
zeph!
tired + busy but i'd like to say hello again :]
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Post by zeph! on Jul 5, 2019 16:10:46 GMT -5
Sky froze, seeing the dragon for the first time. She fumbled in her pocket for her wand, and brought it out, her hands shaking. She was about to aim when a dragon head slammed into her chest, knocking her over. She fell hard on her right wrist and heard a snapping sound, before it erupted in pain. Her wand clattered to the floor as she instinctively brought her hand to her chest. "Ow!" She gasped softly.
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Transgender
strider
No mourners, no funerals
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Post by strider on Jul 5, 2019 19:21:02 GMT -5
The truth was, Crutchie was enjoying it. Immensely. And as unlikely as he’d be to admit it, at least part of his enjoyment derived from how much Sherlock seemed to hate being surrounded by little kids. “Ulster Cycle,” Crutchie told Sherlock in lieu of an explanation. “Children of Lir. They’re sort of tied together?” If Sherlock bothered to read the board behind him, there was a mention of the Children of Lir. “My mother…” he hesitated, pushing back any pain that came with talking about the woman - he hadn’t done it often enough that it was familiar - and continued. “My mother used to recite them to me.” Ignoring whatever judgement Sherlock might make with that information, Crutchie turned his attention back to the children. “Now… it’s like fairy tales, but a bit more interconnected. And with a ton of Irish names.” He laughed lightly to himself. “I bet most of you can’t say em right, but you’ll learn.” He wanted to hear Sherlock fail to say some of the names he had heard since childhood, the strange sounds of the lyrical language that came as second nature to him. “Yes,” he whispered to Sherlock, his grin holding a touch of cockiness. “I’m enjoying this.”
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Post by HᥲꙆƒꙆɩɠᖾt on Jul 5, 2019 19:28:26 GMT -5
This wheel was to change direction, that was obvious enough. Then what was the purpose of this key...
It's headlights blinking on like two eyes opening after a nap, the car stirred to life as its ignition switch was turned. If that was how to start it, than this handle here...
After a few minutes of studying the various handles and pedals, Sandalphon couldn't resist the hints of a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maybe figuring this out wouldn't be as hard as he'd first thought.
"Hm?" Hearing Elliot speaking up again, he reemerged from behind the dashboard and peered at the big screen through the windshield. From what he could see, it didn't look too special in any particular way, besides it's size. The other man must have been able to sense magic that he, somehow, could not, because all he could feel at the moment was the surge of elemental power coming from above. If it was indeed imbued with the same teleportation magic as the door the group had used to enter the room, then maybe it was their ticket out of here, or at least to somewhere safer.
Well it was a start, so the Primarch pulled himself back out of the car to go get a closer look. The second his feet touched the ground however, his red eyes widened in horror as he was greeted by the sickening sound of the ceiling reaching its limit sooner then expected. The lights keeping the cavern lit went out as it took another, final hit from the storm above. In the darkness unlit by the headlights of the still running Porsche, bits of the stone roof finally began caving in, the cry of car alarms going off could be heard as some of the vehicles were crushed under chunks of concrete.
Time had run out.
Moving faster then humanly possible, four purple blades flew out of thin air and plunged into the ceiling above the group, holding that section of the roof in place and preventing it from falling on the them. Each one made up the corner support of a large rectangle, which led from the car Sandalphon had started to the TV. This alone wasn't going to be enough, as nothing was supporting the center, which was already starting to give way.
A plan of action had quickly formulated in the archangel's head the second the ceiling had started to falter. It was reckless, but in times like this one didn't really have time to think of something better. A warm, soft glow filled the dark cavern as three pairs of wings sprouted from his back in a flash of golden light. Each of the feathered appendages was a different color, representing the tetra-elements, besides the bottom set which were a matching dark brown.
Leaping into the air, the Primarch quickly flew up and braced his body against the center of the area between the blades, taking position as the central support. "Elliot!" He shouted over the noise. "Get the others into that thing and drive it through that screen!" Yes he was aware of mad that sounded, but if it really was another portal to somewhere else like the door before, they would hopefully be fine.
And if it wasn't, they were all screwed...
The other man was the one Sandalphon was putting his hopes on to help the rest of the group get out. After the quick thinking with the talismans he'd pulled off earlier, he seemed like a good choice. "To get it moving, all you have to do is pull the handle next to the steering wheel down, then put your foot on the rightmost pedal and push!" That was all the Primarch had been able to figure out during his short time in the car, and he prayed to the skies it was enough.
Despite the fact he was struggling a bit from the weight, he managed to flash a confident smirk. "As soon as everyone is out, I'll be right behind you." He said, moving on to assuage any hesitation the group might have about leaving him behind, if there was any. He wasn't lying either, because he wasn't particularly keen on being crushed before he could finish that morning coffee back home.
Sky above knew he was going to need it after this...
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Post by HᥲꙆƒꙆɩɠᖾt on Jul 5, 2019 20:07:04 GMT -5
"Uh huh." Astolfo didn't move from his position on Hippogriff's back right away, his only reply a noise of confirmation. Eventually he did sit back up and regain his normal demeanor, even if it was mostly just to keep his balance when his mount shook it's neck in an attempt to get it's rider to straighten out. Giving Julius a wide grin and a thumbs up, "I'm good as new!"
The beam of light in the distance caught the Servant's attention, causing him to point at it in case his companion hadn't noticed it yet. "Look at that! Think it's the way out?" It was the only thing that stood out in the room anymore, so he figured it warranted a look. He tapped his heel's against Hippogriff's sides to get the beast to strut forward and set off.
(Oof, short post. T.T)
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Post by ®Hawkpath® on Jul 6, 2019 8:29:35 GMT -5
“Ulster? Lir? What are you blathering on about?” Sherlock pressed, his desperation to understand what was being talked about shoving away all other concerns for the moment. He closed his eyes and stepped back into his mind palace for a moment, scrambling through files and files of information, but whatever this was he had either never heard of it (not likely) or he hadn’t considered it relevant enough not to delete it (much more likely). His sharp blue eyes snapped open. Mother. Used to. Dead? Dead or otherwise MIA, the detective decided quickly, and moved on, his concentration fractured into pointed shards by the noisy children surrounding him. He didn’t think to look at the board, instead he watched Crutchie with rapt attention, ready to dig the answers out of his head if need be. “Oh, shut up.” He snapped. Frustration was making it hard to stay calm and in control now. “Show them to me, I think I can pronounce a few Irish names, thanks.”
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Post by <Raintalon> on Jul 6, 2019 17:57:17 GMT -5
Hange had barely a moment to react - unlike Sandalphon, they hadn’t been able to sense the magnitude of the storm outside, and they certainly hadn’t been expecting the roof to cave in. Thinking fast - or perhaps not thinking at all - they grabbed Myrnin and leapt aside, landing on top of him in an attempt to form a sort of human shield against any debris that might hit them as the rest of the structure crumbled. Then there was a flash of bright light, and Sandalphon activated his powers - almost certainly, they would’ve been crushed if not for the archangel. “Stay still!” they shouted to the little boy they still held tight in their arms, throat hoarse as they choked on dust. Pulling out their shirt sleeve a little, and grasping their blade carefully with stinging eyes, they cut a ragged slit of fabric out of their clothing and offered it quickly to Myrnin. “Put this over your face to breathe against the dust. Everything will be alright, just...give me a moment to think...” Sandalphon was shouting something, but whatever it was was lost in the noise. Maybe he had a plan...
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