ProfetessaOscura
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"Trace," the creature said, voice dry and raspy, not really used to calling Janice by her name, "Call off your lapdog before it kills itself."
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Vespyr... laughed. It was a broken sound, like glass shattering underwater. It felt as though it had been dropped into a classroom of 1st graders, all of whom were talking very loudly and at the same time, demanding rewards or treats or Vespyr's attention. They seemed so childish in their demands. And it was funny, if tragic in its own right, that they should recover their friend only to lose her. Vespyr wasn't a diplomat or someone to reason with. Vespyr was a force. Vespyr was a monster. And it was so, so funny that they thought they could reason or make demands. It was like asking death not to kill.
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Vespyr's brow twisted downward. "I am to fulfill my order to the will of my Queen, not twist the order to fit your will."
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Vespyr tilted its head at the creature. "Trace lives within that body. Unconscious or not, that child is Trace. My orders stand." "I am not an ambassador. The Queen sees only people that she wishes to see. All else who attempt to approach her without her invitation to her island, I slay." Vespyr turned its shoulders, scars and disfigurements bared. "You should write a letter. I will deliver this to her, but I will not deliver you like a lamb to slaughter."
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Vespyr shrugged. "I do not know the Queen's intent." The wind spoke in a rush, in a swirl around the group. It was an eerie, almost terrifying situation, as though two leaves had brushed together in just the right way to create the sound of a word. Vespyr stayed still, barely acknowledging Lloyd. It turned its head toward him, as if considering answering his demand, but then turned its head away. "I am to retrieve Trace. I am not a magic schoolbus." That was a direct metaphor. Vespyr made note to keep the talking to a minimum in the future. It was best, of course, to kill the people requested quickly and efficiently. The creature had never been sent on a fetch quest before, and the experience of communicating with people had somewhat corrupted it.
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Vespyr turned its head toward Cadenza. Was it a woman? It didn't know. It had always been raised as an "it," and the body it had was too disfigured by now to distinguish any features.
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Vespyr folded their arms, but didn't press the matter further.
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Vespyr stepped up to Janice, who seemed to have their abilities and their outbreak in control. "Trace," it said, the lips stretched in scars, miscolored and twisted, "It is time to go." This creature was completely single-minded, and didn't at all seem frightened that any of the people in the large crowd might fight back.
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Vespyr lowered its hands, baring its scarred, sightless face to the approaching people. How foolish. A servant should not feel shame. Not when these marks were a gift from her Majesty. It stepped forward, closer to Janice, face -if that twisted mass of flesh could be called a face- stalwart.
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The creature did not seem to notice. "I apologize for the inconvenience," it said, and the creature was still, as if weeping or praying, "I apologize for the inconvenience."
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The flare of energy burst over Vespyr's face, burning back the hood, singing the clothes down past the shoulders. Tassels fell as they shriveled away. Vespyr froze, suddenly bare from the shoulders up. You still couldn't tell if it was masculine or feminine. The bones of the face had been cracked and reformed, the shape macabre. The nose twisted, healed at odd angles, as if it had been snapped multiple times. The eyes... the eyes were gone, large scars over smooth skin where there were no hollows even, nothing to indicate eyes had ever existed. The most notable disfiguration, was the skin color. Janice couldn't tell what color the skin had been initially, before it had been scarred over. There were large slashes on top of slashes on top of slashes, scars overlapping, as though this creature were a patchwork of silver slashes. The scars gleamed, not a square centimeter of flesh left unmarred. This wasn't human. This hadn't been human in a long, long time. Vespyr froze in shock, then reflexively turned from Janice, gloved hands covering the distorted, disgusting features.
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Vespyr leaned in close, pressing a hand to Janice's forehead. It wasn't quite healing... it was calming. Slowing the vibration of the heart, relaxing the muscles. In another life, in another time and place... Vespyr could have been a physical therapist. "Calm yourself."
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Vespyr yanked at the knife, removing it from the picture. It had taken... strength, much of it, just to fight what had been holding that dagger in place. "It is time for us to go." The winds were a roar, mingling with the spiraling shockwaves of power Janice was currently emitting.
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Majesty, that HURT. It hadn't expected the child to attack uncontrollably. Vespyr crashed through a young tree, which snapped, and both fell to the ground. Vespyr stood, then absorbed the rippling vibrations, the energy Trace was expelling, just in a small bubble around the creature. Enough to stand its ground. Then, enough to approach. Vespyr began to glow from the effort, super-charged. What energy it was taking from Janice was adding to the energy supplied by the Nectar. Smoking skin? That wasn't a good sign. A human body wasn't designed to hold one Quoral of corruption, much less to take on so much more. No, this wasn't healthy at all. Vespyr would need to end this quickly. It lurched forward, losing much of its former grace. Its mask CRACKED. Underneath... was a silk black hood. A second mask, fitting neatly over the face. Well, it had almost been something of a reveal, at least. Vespyr did not lunge at Janice time. It lunched at the knife. A dead target was no victory at all.
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Vespyr stopped short, skidding past Janice, then turned back. It moved just in time, tackling the child and snatching both wrists, squeezing hard so the girl would drop the knife. Well... She'd let the other subject try their damnest to fulfill their orders from the Queen. They'd failed, and this time in front of a witness to the charade. Trace was likely not going to have a very warm welcome when they returned. Vespyr was... regretful. It headbutted the child, forehead to forehead, the solid mask slamming into Janice. Unconsciousness would be preferable at this moment.
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Ah, Majesty. The girl was running off to where Vespyr couldn't protect her. Marvelous. It lurched, shooting into the air, gliding parallel to the ground, then slowed alongside Janice. Vespyr placed a hand on Trace's shoulder, figuring that this was definitely not what the girl had in mind. At this point, she was probably broken and fragmented. The Queen hadn't quite finished this half-baked utensil. "Let's go," It said, firmly, without any room for a wavering protest from -what it assumed to be- Trace.
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Vespyr stooped, plucking several bullets from the ground. It reinfused them with their former vibration, and they shot out of its hand. It was a good deal weaker than if they'd been launched from the barrel of a weapon; much of the initial vibration was lost in the first few instants that a shot was fired. Still, it might dent the person's armor, frighten him away. After what it was witnessing, it couldn't really fault these people for wanting to hurt this child. It, of course, didn't dislike Trace for her actions, but it didn't understand them. It could, however, understand Cadenza's pain, or the fear of the soon-to-be dead approaching them. Vespyr had never enjoyed killing or disliked it. It was just... a thing to be done. Usually, though, orders were more clear-cut than this. It knew exactly who or what was to be destroyed. In an open melee with this, it was odd to try to decide who to spare and who to destroy, or if it should just destroy everyone and be done with it. That would have been the more convenient move, but the time for that would have been out in the elements, on that great beach facing the ocean and open air, with the sand that responded intrinsically. It was a perfect tomb. Now, though, the trees dulled some of the movement of Vespyr's winds, and the ground was solid here. The ocean wasn't visible from this area, so the fighting would turn defensive. Vespyr didn't like fighting up-close and personal with anyone, and it grimaced at Trace's grisly work. It seemed unnecessarily cruel and time-consuming. It would have been so much more simple to end Cadenza with a blade through any vital organ. It shifted the rippling water-blood glaive in its left hand, preparing to defend the charge. If it felt overwhelmed by the desperate crew of people, rushing to defend their fallen ally, Vespyr would retreat with Trace then.
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Vesper flung the empty bottle to one side, spinning and thrusting both hands forward. It was fortunate they’d taken the time to drink. Although the effectiveness usually took a few minutes to regenerate, Vespyr hadn’t quite burned up what they’d been using. Not yet. The projectiles slowed, their energy sapping until they collapsed to the floor. It was getting harder to do that; it was much easier with a fire of nectar saturated in the blood. It was easier to see with the nectar, too, the range of its circle of vision expanded. It was simple, then, to sense the sudden movement from the colonel, even wearing a mask with no eyes. Absorbing the energy built up strength, built up its ability to strike. Compared to the roar of power that nectar provided, the absorbed energy was small. Still, Vespyr had learned to take advantage of any opportunity to build up power. Sometimes, it burned through that strength frighteningly quickly. ((Vespyr’s next action will pretty much be to grab Trace and get out of dodge, unless there’s some plan in place?))
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Vespyr slung the bag from her back, then took a swig out of the bottle within. “Trace, time is up.”
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Wow, Vespyr thought, this kid is textbook gothic. Was that the right word? No. Emo? No. Friggin’ terrifying? Yeah. That was the one. Vespyr continued to obstruct any shot aimed at Trace. “You are short on time,” it informed. “Finish up your playtime.” ((Not actually back yet. Small break.))
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(Gtg)
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Vespyr stepped across from Trace, then put itself in the way of the bullet, casually, without even facing the man. Was it... accidental?
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Vespyr followed Trace, but kept their distance. Trace was having a moment, after all.
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The winds dissipated, vanishing, abandoning the bleeding woman in the sand. The wind was almost fond, like an encouragement, as it rushed away from Lena in a soft whoosh. It ruffled the boy's hair, shifting his clothes against his skin. "Do not fail." The words sounded encouraging, even if they were phrased in an almost threatening manner.
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"You ordered the death of my charge," was the explanation that the wind gave. "I apologize for the inconvenience." The blasting sand grew monstrously intense, painful.
