I think I am here.

There was a lonely little ant. He walked in the grass just outside the wedding. He had no friends, but he spotted a female ant just across. They were so far away from each other, a full meter, but that didn’t stop their love. The male ant waved, and the female ant blushed. They were soulmates. Maybe if — “Huh, I do like these wedding arrangements,” Lusk said and walked to where the wedding was happening, with one step inadvertently crushing the male ant into a thousand pieces. Lusk looked at where Melody and Walker were getting married. He’d duelled the Walker guy. That duel had been the first time Lusk had ever tried to stand up for what was right. He’d been repaid for it by getting liver failure, then immediately hit in the face by the person he was trying to stand up for, and then subjected to days of painful treatment. It seemed the universe had spoken; Lusk was never meant to be good. He clapped anyway when the priest announced them man and wife, unable to hear the tiny screams of the female ant.

The Bleeding Spike. On normal circumstances, Alask would dislike to be here simply because of the name. But alas, it was the only beverage place in the local area. Alask figured that must have been why they chose it. And with everything that had been happening over the months, he really needed a drink. Dark patches swirled his eyes and his lack of sleep was made clear by their presence. Half the day working the Forge as Alask, the rest at night as Shez, keeping it safe. The schedule left little time for sleep. “A coffee, please?” He asked the server. “Maybe two?”

Cheh quietened. These people were strangers. If they used him as their only idea of what an earthbender was than Cheh was perfect. “Some people with my powers can,” he said. “I could develop the ability maybe, with enough time and practise, but now? I can’t. The thing is, green-eyed friend.” Cheh looked up at Failen. “I’m really weak for an earthbender.” He frowned and looked at everyone else. They seemed to be staring at each other in silence, almost as if they were having a conversation without words? “Who of you is it?” Jessy asked and Cheh had no idea what she meant so he shrugged. Whoever it was was, he didn’t think she was referring to him.

“We don’t have many tales in Tühinine,” Price said, sitting down. “At least, none that don’t have any sort of relevance to the war.” Hundreds of years of conflict did that to a nation.

The girl nodded back to him. She didn’t want to speak? Judging by that scar, she probably couldn’t. Chiding himself for putting her in an awkward situation (Wes realised how much he would dislike it if someone tried to interrupt him while he was concentrating), he looked to the form in front of him. The details were easy to put in, and if Wes had ever forgot, he could just take a look at his identity card, and copy off of that. Name, Investiture, anything ACE might find important from him. Wes inwardly laughed at that, because he doubted any part of him was really important. His only skill of value would be his technical engineering skills, and he was sure ACE already had better ones if they were planning to excavate the entire tunnel system. When Wes finished the questionnaire he proofread it to make sure he hadn’t made any errors. He doubted there were bigger ways to make himself seem unprofessional than to have a few spelling errors. All looked fine when he re-read his form, the only thing he was confused about was the name segment. Did he just put ‘Wes’? Or did he write his full name, ‘Wesley Miller’? Maybe if he looked at the girl’s questionnaire, he’d find whether he put his full name or just a shortened version. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he darted his eyes past the gap between them and to her form. “Hey,” he whispered again, cheer and amazement in his voice. “We have the same name. Isn’t that cool?” He tilted his own questionnaire to show where ‘Wes’ was written on his sheet of paper. This was really awesome. Wes had never met someone also named Wes. Maybe he would write about this in his journal. He suddenly didn’t regret coming to this meeting space.

“You all mean a lot to me as well,” Wes said to the squad and quickly looked to Tena when she appeared with food. It was a little intimidating, but then again, for Wes this entire party was a little intimidating. “They had me make some of those lights,” Wes said quietly, pointing to a large amount of Christmas lights by the north side of the hall. Instead of shining red and green however, they shined golden and blinked in a calming pattern along the edge of the ceiling.

Price wasn’t alarmed but instead looked curiously on as Zura stepped out of the carriage, walking around to the other side. Though his hostility towards the Cahayn had dwindled, he still wanted to know what she was getting up to, for the safety of them all. As he followed her the sounds of Sagitta’s sobbing and her words about being prisoner became louder. Price stepped forward into the moonlight and watched them both. He was taken aback at first, Sagitta was strong, a brave soldier, maybe a stronger person than he or the Cahayan combined. And she’d been crying. It seemed the forests were upsetting her? Maybe reminding her of her time in the wilds? Price had seen this occur in other soldiers before, trauma or flashbacks to previous times. Price noted something down in his ledger. “The nomads,” he said. He didn’t have an opinion on them, and didn’t know whether Tühinine had an offical stance on their presence but it seemed their relationship with Ta’e’ilo was similar to that of Cahaya and Tühine. Except, Price noted. The nomads are invading. Ta’e’ilo is just defending. In one way, the two conflicts were similar. In another, completely different. “Questions?” Price asked. “They also tried to test you?”

“I used to be, until this Radiant stuff happened.” Careful. He’d been keeping a close guard on his life before Radiancy with anyone, why break that. Why risk exposing who he was to someone else? But Rob continued, raising a leg over the edge of the pool. “But, the more I got to know about it, I reached a revelation,” he breathed in stormlight and used the surge of tension on the pool water, keeping the surface tension strong and solid, so when Rob lowered his leg and stepped onto it, his foot stopped directly at the surface of the water. He raised his arms and walked further, literally walking on water. “That maybe Jesus was a Radiant.”

“Well, it always seemed natural to me,” Cheh said. “You and your spirit are one with the world...” he did a kata in the air, moving his arms around in fluid motions, stomping his foot down. “And the world moves with your spirit.” A rock thrust up into the air, and Cheh jabbed it, sending it point-first into a tree. “A harmonic balance of spirits and bending in the word, like a perfect spiritual ecosystem.” He realised what he was saying and chucked nervously, dropping his pose. “Or, I mean, magic. That... you could also call it that.”

“Follow me,” he said, standing up maybe a fraction too fast, betraying his excitement. He made sure to monitor his movements as he opened the door and gestured for her to follow him down the stairs (there seemed to be some commotion among the Radiants) and into the backyard. He maintained his neutral posture and tone, though for some reason he felt a little excitement at a trick he’d learnt only recently. The breeze was strong in the early morning, and once they were outside Rob stepped to the very edge of the deep end of the pool. “Are you religious?” He asked.

There seemed to be something Wes needed to do. Scanning the room he saw a table with some questionnaires on them, and saw how people from around the room grabbed and filled them out. Keeping to the sides of the room as much as possible in order to avoid attention to himself, Wes quickly snatched a questionnaire from the top of the pile. Then he snatched another, in case he wanted to make an origami swan later. From the same desk he grabbed a pencil, and then looked around the room to where he could sit and fill it out. There were few places, it seemed, that wouldn’t bring someone’s eyes upon him, inevitably leading to a conversation. A small set of coughs took Wes out of his thoughts and he looked to a girl scanning the room quietly. He hadn’t even noticed she was there. Another introvert! Wes thought and quietly stepped towards the girl, sitting down on the chair next to her. Quiet people needed to stick together. Maybe nobody would bother them that way. “Hi,” he said quietly and did a little wave, before scribbling his details down on his first questionnaire. Wes, Cerrobend Ferring @Voidus

Mr. Itiah shook his head and smiled. “It looks like your friends are all here. I’ll leave you to it, then.” As he walked over to the other side of the stage he noticed more and more people coming in, mingling. That was fine. Unrolling his sleeve Mr. Itiah looked at his fabrial watch — a real watch, none of those fancy metal-circle-with-arms things the Scadrians had, and pressed a smokestone to set a timer for an hour. An hour of mingling, speaking, people to come in, and then they’d begin the formal awards night. He looked at some of the other people here. He didn’t say anything about the man with no shoes, Mr. Itiah had learnt long ago some people’s powers required very specific circumstances to activate, and he wasn’t one to discriminate. —— “Thank you,” Wes whispered and stepped from behind Mike. He smiled and waved at Anthony and Seom. “Hello Did you guys get the invite as well?”

No need to apologise! Both are approved. Nuemark’s pretty powerful at the Fourth Ideal, so it’s trusted you’ll stick to his moral restrictions and weaknesses to keep him below the limit. Other than that, happy RPing

Skilled in Hand to Hand Combat = 30 Skilled in Melee Weaponry = 50 Expert in Marksmanship = 80 Equals to about 160 points, subtract 15 for the weaknesses gives 145 as a total. Nice character, approved

Wes scampered into the AlleyCity Excavation (ACE) building, keeping his cloak well tucked around him. He’d heard about tunnel excavations in the Alleyverse Post, and the idea of getting away from everything, from the invasions and politics, and specifically from the Ghostbloods, was needed. He needed a break. And a guild-neutral exploration was perfect for that. Standing inside the doorway into the meeting room, he was a little taken aback by all the people here. He considered leaving before anybody saw him, but what if they already did? Would it be too awkward? Was he overthinking things? Oh. She was here. The Righthand was here. Wes felt his face pale and he instinctively made himself smaller, wrapped his cloak more around himself defensively, began shuffling to the opposite side of the room to where she was. All these people, talking so enthusiastically, Wes was a little envious of their confidence. Keeping quiet he stayed in the corner of the room.

The knife. Price’s aggression drifted away as Sagitta talked to both of them, explained that they both did things they would consider wrong in others. Price kept his eyes fixed on the forest, but when we saw Zura grab the knife out of his peripheral his breathing pace quickened. He knew, he could never beat her in a straight out fight. Maybe in a laboratory. Maybe. Price had only killed one person before, and that was when they hadn’t been able to fight back. His first Cahayan test. The world was still as she flipped the knife in the air, offering it to him. Price turned and looked at her, at the knife. To take the knife and throw it away would mean agreement, for peace. Was peace an option? What did a simple agreement between two people do for a war spanning thousands of years. But to take the knife, and keep it, that would mean he mistrusted the Cahayan. Well, he did, but a part of his soul couldn’t argue with Sagitta, her logic. For a scientist such as him, he knew she spoke the truth. And the curtain of bias couldn’t hold forever. Hesitating, Price took the knife. It was heavy and he brought the blade closer to him, inspected it. Keep it, or throw it away? Maintain the illusion of security and superiority, or force to make peace with the enemy? It seemed Zura had already made up her mind. Keep, or throw away? He looked to Sagitta, arms spread. Another option was using the knife. The knife. Somehow Price thought it symbolised something more. His fingers tightened around the hilt. “Times are hard enough,” he whispered to himself and cradled the knife in his hands, making it explode, black flame swallowing it whole, leaving no trace of what it had been behind. He fixed his eyes on the forest, unable to come to terms with his treacherous thoughts. Unlike Zura, he seemed to be the opposite of in peace. Had he gone against his nation with a simple action?

“Well, I wou-” suddenly someone was attacking him, grappling at him and his fists clenched up to counter attack. No, not attacking. Hugging. She was hugging him. Marcel took a deep breath at the sudden movement and something fell out of his eye from the impact of the hug and his reaction. His contact lense. Underneath his pale blue contact lens was not only a blood red eye, but a heavily constricted pupil, a black pin dot in his red eye. Struggling he shuffled around and rubbed the lens to rid it of any dust and hurriedly placed it back where it belong on his eye. “Yes,” he said.

“Wes or Seom,” Mr. Itiah repeated, trying to remember the names. He knew the Wes one from somewhere, but he couldn’t recall where, and Seom, he definitely had heard her name mentioned once or twice. Some sort of Ferring. Frowning he shook his head at Mike’s question before replacing it with a smile. A smile a day keeps the nightmares away! “No idea, though they would’ve gotten an invite, I’m sure. Oh, is that one of them?” He pointed to someone climbing onto the stage from further behind Mike. —- The stage was big, Wes realised as he tried to climb up it. And it was way harder to get onto than he had originally thought. Unbeknownst to him, there were stairs near the other side of it, but in his haste he hadn’t seen them. He’d spotted Mike, and some other man he didn’t care about, and he’d jogged to make his way to them. “Ugh,” he said, flopping onto the stage and getting up, looking at the two people. Mike, and, and... and. Wes paled. Quickly he jogged up to Mike, hiding behind him, making sure Mike was always between Mr. Itiah and him. “Hi,” he whispered.

“Ah, I see.” Mr. Itiah rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth in thought and raised a flat palm. He moved the side of the palm down on one of Mike’s soldiers, then over his head and onto the other soldier. It looked like the Queen knighting someone, except without the sword. “Well, congratulations, you’re officially the leader. M... Mike, right?” He smiled and looked down at his notes. “Ooh, you might want to stay until the awards and promotions section.” He looked up and winked at Mike.

“A team name,” Marcel mused as he stepped on the bus. He watched Lewis follow them and turned to the rest of the group. He didn’t know if the mobster wanted to join them, but if he did, he knew where to find them. It was a shame, the connections the mobster had could’ve come handy. Connections always came in handy. “Wita and Friends?” He joked. It reminded him of some TV show from his youth.

“Yes. Well...” he remembered the knife, pressed against Shana’s throat. The interlocking parts of the air. The desperation he’d felt but hadn’t shown. Never shown. Emotions were something men didn’t do, Rob had been told since his childhood. And the lesson had stuck. “I can do it from a short distance, if I concentrate. And not just rock. Asphalt, rock, metal, probably others.” He thought about his second ability, tension, and an idea sprung to his head. But he tried to hide the enthusiasm on his face, even though it was hard. “Do you want to see something cool?”

“Where’s the banners for the southeast entrance? Southeast entrance! Are the mics up and running? Lights functional? Hey, what do you mean the glitch from the speakers continued? I thought we got that underling to fix that! Rusting children, they are!” As stressed out organisers and decorator ladies swarmed backstage, making sure everything was perfect, as it inevitably was every year, Mr. Itiah took a few deep breaths, jumped up and down to warm himself up, and looked at himself in the mirror. Yes, he still had it. The shiny smile. The likeableness, the charming personality that had led the higher ups to choose him as tonight’s master of ceremony. “No, I said southwest banners, not southeast! And those banners are supposed to be in alternating ascending order. Alternating ascending!” Despite all the backstage commotion, Mr. Itiah tried not to let himself get stressed. Jumping up and down one last time, giving himself one more look in the mirror, Mr. Itiah smiled and tried to parkour his way past all of the miscellaneous messes that laid the backstage hallway. As he walked he consulted his notes, a scribble of terrible handwriting only decidable by his eyes. In brusque dot points was listed all who would be promoted, and the current festivities for the night. Six months after beating that blue-faced creature and his invasion, he thought as he dipped under the golden curtains and onto the stage, getting a glimpse at the hall that would soon be so full of live and people. About time we celebrated. Stepping forward to centre stage, he took a while to appreciate everything the decorators had done, hands on hips contently. He saw someone else on the large stage. An underling, it looked like. There was no one else, and Mr. Itiah waved. “Hey there! I recognise you, you lead that underling team, right? Guns n’ Ninjas?” @Sorana ——- Wes found it irrational to think the streets were any darker than they had been before. No, the streetlights were exactly the same luminosity that they always were. It was just, looking at the glowing beacon of the awards hall, light spilling from the building onto the neighbouring alleys, that in comparison everything else looked dark. Walking ahead, Wes couldn’t help but suppress a stab of anxiety. Such a big place, no doubt soon to be filled with large crowds and laughing, dancing, of course loud blasting music and flashing colours. All those people, all of that cheering and sound... Wes shivered. So many people, and he’d just be a small underling in an ocean of colours. It made him a little sick just consulting the thought, but he had gotten a personal invite. An invite to the party! And in addition to that letter from Mike, and there was no doubt in Wes’ mind he would be attending this event. Even if it meant enduring a party of such giant proportions, he thought to himself as he jogged to the guards were, in what he thought was the main entrance, cloak flapping close behind him.

Everything went full circle eventually. As the robotic conqueror turned to slag Max landed from his jump, the force of the missile explosion throwing him to the side. Wind raced past his face, throwing his hair in wild directions. Slamming Sethramir down to anchor himself back to the ground Max reflected the battle. Reflected how it was all over. Here he was, on a rooftop as a War was won below, all lights quenched for the invaders. Remember when you used to be so terrified of hemalurgy? He asked himself. When he would run into a different room, whenever Silphio would try to talk to him. When he had had nightmares of creatures with spikes, and now he was here. This victory was different from when he had overcome his fear of Hemalurgy facing against Atticus. For 17 years, Max had hoped he could help, had wished he could’ve done more than stand by as AlleyCity got destroyed in the Seven Day War. And now, he’d fulfilled that wish. It was like he had solved everything that had been bothering him all these years. Closure. Everything going full circle. What was once a scared child on a hemalurgic warzone was now a man who had been facing off of Conquerors. And both times, he had had Sethramir in his grasp, once as an item given to him from a hero fated for death, and now for him. Now, his own weapon. Max. Sethramir. It was glowing. It felt warm, and as Max reflected it began to shift. It became slimmer in his hand, more streamlined, a tip appearing at the front and its swordlike stature ascending to something more. Max. When all was done a glowing spear lay in Max’s hand, and he looked down upon it with contentment. He had made peace with his life, with all the trials, all the battles, because it was he did. It was what they all did. Such a big day, from Vesuvius, to the Phoenix, to this. He had made peace with his power, the dilemma of whether to control or not. Of whether it was ethical. Max. And as Sethramir’s voice drifted into his ear, a soft tune to contrast the sharp sounds of a battle ending, Max realised. All this time, he had been asking Devaan how to do this, how to unlock Sethramir’s full potential. As wind began to swirl around Max, throwing up dust, he realised he had been thinking about it all wrong. Sethramir as a spear was aerodynamic and smooth in his hands, and he shifted the spear around in a sharp turn, his experience with a staff showing and sending a plume of sharp wind into a wall, crumbling it to ash. Now you understand. Hello, Max. Hello, Sethramir.

Price’s eyes never left the outside of the carriage, his face always towards the breeze that rustled the midnight leaves of the forest, his senses on the lookout for danger. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could hear her tone of voice, could feel the vibrations in the wood from where she’d stabbed the carriage. Price didn’t mind the defacing of their shelter, they would be abandoning it in the morning anyway. “They didn’t allow me to sign up either,” he said, noting Sagitta leaving the carriage. She’d woken up. He refrained from adding why he’d been denied, that it wasn’t for his age or family, but his physique. “But I used my talents to help my country in other ways, ways I hope will be enough when I pass away. I guess you do the same, though... with considerably more violence. That guard you killed? He had a family. He had parents, and maybe a lover or children, I wouldn’t know. But he had a life. And you took that away. How does the death of one man like him further your goals? Or are they just collateral damage to you? Ink on a ledger?”

“I would show you, but I didn’t think you’d be able to see it, like how you can’t see the Voidbringers.” But because he wanted to try anyway, he took out a sphere from his pocket. “Some of us can fly,” he said. “And some can teleport, heal and destroy things, move really fast, and turn things into other things. Out of them all...” Rob shrugged. “You might find mine boring. I can shape rock. Mold it like clay.”