O – o – o – o – O
Note: English is not my native language, and I lack beta/proofreader, therefore expect mistakes and wonky grammar.
O – o – o – o – O
Gaius could do little more than give instructions and watch in horror as the battle progressed from facing a warmachina on a small circular platform to a golden-clad freak-show to match even one of Emperor Solus' high-quality theater productions. It was complete to the point it recreated the scenes of his past sins to accompany this performance. Equally deadly. Equally horrifying. Would his shade prove to be equally victorious here as well...?
No. For all their wishful thinking, this was the likeness of Werlyt's creation and with the Scion's favoured hero at the battlefield, it painted a not so different outcome of his final tale. It was the Warrior of Light - nothing survived long with her on the opposite side. Nothing could.
And yet - it was still a better of the given options. Had anyone but her been the one to locate it, they would have swiftly been turned from a scout and into a corpse. With the amount of ammunition stored in the Castrum, not just the Weapon posed the danger.
The battle was not to be drawn out. It was fierce, explosive, it shook the entire facility. The base which held the Castrum groaning as the aetheric weaponry blasted across the supporting walls. pieces of it falling about them, some of which he had to duck away from. Being relegated to the sidelines without any possibility to offer any meaningful assistance, not being able to help Rex, was one of the worse punishments of his life. In the end, he could do little else but watch as the boy was felled.
When she and Gaius made their way to Castrum Marinum, one of two likely locations, this was an expected outcome. Perhaps it was a folly to engage the machina without any way of subduing it, but they neither had the time nor the feasible means to do so. Yet they had to stop the Weapon. It was why they had come here. What they were prepared to do. He was prepared, but it was not what he wanted.
But before long, the Emerald Weapon collapsed on the platform, and the projected image dispersed in a massive explosion of light and fire. He saw her being flung of the platform, hitting the metal wall with a projectile force, before tumbling down into the water below in a heavy splash. One of many as the chamber teetered on possible collapse.
Now, the massive hangar of the imperial installation was filled with nothing but heavy silence of groaning metal walls after the assault and lapping of the water below.
Minutes passed, or longer, and the Warrior of Light climbed from the water and sat on the floor, back against the railing. Her armour was torn, her horns chipped and cracked, and her tail short of two spikes. There was blood where she stepped, where her hand would grip the railing, but no wounds could be immediately discerned.
The boy activated the Oversoul too early into the fight. Fighting her must've frightened him. Spurred him into doing something rash.
'Stupid. Irreversible.' A general thought that passed through his mind, a rationalization of the events as his eyes were still fixated on the warmachina that had become yet another coffin for one of his own.
In truth, there was all manner of possibilities as to why he would make such a choice. Perhaps she was dismantling the machina a bit too fast and too viciously in her attempts to reach the cockpit. Perhaps Rex had hoped that the combat data afforded to him would lead to victory. It mattered little in the end.
He shook his head. 'A foolish notion. And one well-known, I should think.' He sighed and turned his head to look at her and found her starring right back, almost too intently. Perhaps there was something so familiar about his features that she didn't say anything. The only response he got was shuffling from the floor off to his side, where she unbuckled the top part of her armour with a grunt and held her hand against whatever injury she had sustained. She could feel the cold resonating through her fingertips.
He made a grumbling sound deep within his throat. "Cid and his crew should be here soon."
"They should check the holding cells," she called as she wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "Or you could. Might be for the better."
He turned to her and stared at the back of her pale hair, eyes narrowing dangerously behind that calm surface that was his face.
"One of your visions? What did it show-...?"
"Enough," she hissed from the floor, baring sharp teeth and winced as she turned her head. Their eyes met in a storm of mixed emotions – guilt and anger, primarily. Disappointment, almost certainly. And maybe even a healthy dose of accusation. Perhaps it was her excessive late-night indulgences that caused her failure to save the pilot. Slowed her reflexes? Impaired her judgment?
It was rage boiling under his skin that he felt, shooting through his veins. That was when he was supposed to leave her alone. That was when he was supposed to leave her to seethe in her own silence. This was the rabid dog growling at the hand reaching towards it, baring teeth in a threat to snap. Yet, which of them was the 'dog' in this tale, was still in question.
Tearing himself away from the sight, he began to traipse across the room, annoyance prickling beneath his skin and stirring his movements on. All the things that could be said – should be said and will be said... yet this tomb was not the place for any of that.
"...he thought the world of you..." It was spoken clearly, yet it felt like a whisper he might have imagined, halting his anger and his steps halfway across. Only for a moment, though.
He moved towards the door to leave her be, to keep watch.
O – o – o – o – O
She heard words, some sort of chastising... There was more going on here, more than one distraught youth. She'd file that for later, as necessary.
Breathing slowly, the woman didn't open her eyes, not right away. It took a moment or several. Pain radiated through her skull as she watched with pallid interest the proceedings before her. She tasted blood in her mouth, prodded her lower lip with her tongue to find it was bleeding. It had a similar taste to the heady concoction of the misery of everyone involved. The blood loss was probably the biggest concern — and the rib remained a liability until she could get herself to a proper healer, so she fished around her pouch for one of the healing potions she had mixed before leaving Terncliff.
O – o – o – o – O
EEven as the crew was preparing to leave, picking up distraught Raen from the floor, Gaius spotted the woman climb to her feet, rubbing her scalp. When she pulled her hand away, her fingers were bloody and the base of her pale hair slowly turning crimson. At the same time, one of the Ironworks engineers ran over to her, calling and waving to get her attention.
"A message from the Scions. Guess the signal couldn't reach for all the interferences in the Castrum," a blue and white-clad man spoke, a mild grin on his face as he passed on a message.
There was a slow blink, and she let out a breath. He watched her nod, furtively wiping her bloodied hand against her trousers.
O – o – o – o – O