This chapter's song is Million Reasons by Lady Gaga.
Listener's POV
The ship is moving out of Magnolia's harbor with us safely aboard. Morrigan, Nexus, and the others all checked in via lacrima so I could start to plan out our tactics. Really, it's going to be something like me wandering in there and luring them out, while everyone waits. Once there, they'll attack. Obviously. (210)
Rocking at sea has always made me nervous. Thankfully, I don't seem to be afflicted by the newer Dragon Slayer weakness of motion sickness. With how often and how much I travel, it would have murdered my feet before I got out of week one as an adventurer. New inventions of speedy travel are the best things for my time table.
I stare at the letter before me, the pages well worn by now, but it's something that I whisk away into my bag when I hear footsteps.
"So, are you feeling as bad as Laxus does on these trips?" Bickslow asks, his tongue lolling out casually, him leaning against a wall.
"No. I do not get motion sick in any way, shape, or form. I would have thought that you had realized that by now." I stated, tucking the paper securely away. I've copied it so many times, for fear of the letters being faded to an unreadable state by age, but it's never happened. The words are engraved in my mind.
"What are we going to do next?"
"We're going to take down the rebelling members of the Spriggan Twelve." I answer immediately, standing and pushing my chair in, so as not to trip anyone. The sailors on this ship are naval soldiers of Fiore, who commandeered the vessel with compensation for a rental time from the original owners and crew. They are enjoying a nice day or two off.
I walk quietly to the railing, staring out at the sea. It's always nice to know that there is, in fact, something out there, like me. Unending.
It brings my comfort.
"What do you mean the Spriggan Twelve? We can't possibly take them down!" Bickslow exclaims, recovering from his shock.
"Of course we can. I have Morrigan, Nexus and a handful of others en route to help, as well as myself and Mneme over there."
"I don't get to help?"
"I do not wish to endanger your life." I answer, my head sinking down until I am staring at the floor of the ship instead of the blue waves.
"I can take care of myself." he grunts, and I heave a sigh.
"You do not seem to understand. If you were to die, the world itself would be doomed. Do you wish to know why? It is because I am vulnerable through you. You are my weakness." I state, looking back out at the sea.
"I am no weakling." he hisses, and I close my eyes.
"You are not. But, I seek to protect you rather than doom the world. You might be fine, you might die."
"So you don't trust me."
"I don't fully trust anyone." I quip back automatically. I haven't trusted anyone since I was a girl.
He doesn't reply, and instead, moments later, I hear a door slam and look up, finding nothing there.
Wanting to protect someone is apparently a flaw.
By Sithis. I am a mess.
The rest of the voyage gets us to the Alvarez Empire in good time, and, instead of wearing the classic red and black, I don something more like what a priestess would wear. (211)
A top of white stretches down from my neck in ruffles, greeting the pink layer covering my chest and the end of it, a loose fabric of pink with a white rim on the bottom, circling it. A fake tattoo is visible on my partially exposed stomach, as an ornamental belt clips into place, the pure metal cold to the touch. Said metal is blue on the lower semi-connecting piece, but white on the other, the two clipping together in the back. They lead the eye to the white pants, cutouts in the fabric outlined by pink. This is overlaid by light blue and slightly darker blue ornaments on my legs, ending on my knees and covering my thighs. A skirt, showing off the pants and decorations, opens at the front and closes at the back, a pale pink on the inside and snowy white outside. My feet are strapped into ridiculously tall platforms, making me taller than even Bickslow, if I saw him, but are white on the bottom and a more visible pink on the straps.
White sleeves, from just above the middle of my upper arm, extend to my fingertips, with blue and white metal pieces decorating my wrists. Bells on ruby red strings accompany those, also attached there, and in my left hand I carry a sprig of blue flowers, my right has nothing, prepared for spell casting. Metalwork is in place on top of my shirt, the pale blue and white standing out against the mainly pink background it stood on. A necklace of pale blue and slightly darker blue hangs loosely around my neck, on display over the ruffles of the shirt. On my back, strapped, is a staff with a symbol for healing, in a ruby pink, at the top. My hair is in twin buns on either side of my head, as well as pulled back and braided, going to nearly my waist with it flipped so I can see it. Still more of my golden hair tumbles down my back. (212)
A crown of blue and white keeps the hair out of my face, and a white kitten, secure on my shoulder, is the last thing that is needed to complete the look.
I step out of my room onboard the ship, and feel the stares of the crew members, hurriedly looking away. The Family is most certainly not used to seeing me dress like this.
I almost shudder, but that would upset the kitten. It's too adorable to do so.
Mneme is waiting to help me disembark, her outfit changed as well. Nothing can associate us with the Dark Brotherhood while we are here, trying to get past their defenses.
I mean, we could just barge in, but that would take a lot more magical power, inducing burnout. And I do not like wasting such a resource as magic, when it can be used so much more effectively.
Synapsicodia is wearing an equally innocent looking outfit, her hair tied away from her neck and hanging down in front of her loose white shirt, the sleeves reaching to the palms of her hands. Paired with pale blue jeans, pink shoes with slightly less of a height than mine, a matching scarf, bag, and headband, she looks the vision of an apprentice Priestess. A silver chain hangs around her neck, her earring studs and her makeup acceptable, black, but not suspicious enough to warrant an investigation.
We are all set to infiltrate a meeting of the Spriggan Twelve. Hopefully, it goes well.
If not, well…. That'll be interesting, if painful.
The two of us almost seem to float over the walkways as we cross the streets and bridges leading to the headquarters. Once almost there, a guard stops us and, upon surveying my magical signature and staff, find they are legitimate, and let us in, believing my story about the Spriggan Twelve needing a Priestess to settle a dispute.
On the way, I instruct Mneme on how to walk, taking small quick steps, gliding almost, never striding. A priestess must be a cloud, a spurt of wind, guided along by nothing but the will of the Gods. I don't really believe this, but the culture surrounding priestesses is fascinating, and the instructions I am giving to Mneme make it seem more real.
At the gates, I present my staff again, noticing that these shoes make me much taller than the guards, more than normal. We proceed because the guards are lazy and just assume we're fine inside a highly secure government building, and don't bother to search us.
"The meeting room is on the next floor up." one guard tells me, and I nod my head, some ornaments clicking together. Priestesses never smile.
Mneme follows me into the building at a close distance, our bond telling her to keep close, in case something happens or anything else, really. I let a smirk alight on my face for a brief moment before it vanishes, seriousness returning.
Time to get to work.
The council is convening, and looks up when I enter, Mneme following behind by a few steps.
"Ah, the Priestess. This should solve our little dispute." Ajeel states, leaning back in his chair.
Using my right hand, I power up a spell, and close my eyes, concentrating on it. Due to their inexperience in the magic of such light and delicate work, (213) they don't realize I'm summoning a sigil that will blow apart the council room and, hopefully, send them into the waiting spells of my Siblings.
I walk swiftly, not a single bell in my chains jingling, and press my hand into the center of the chamber, stepping onto and over the table. Just one of them notices that I'm not doing it correctly; it should be my palm, not the back of my hand.
"Wait a second…." that person starts, but by that time, it's too late.
The spell has taken hold, and everyone except Mneme and I is blown back by the effects, although it did jingle the bells and cause my outfit to disappear. (214)
"This shall be a fun battle, Mneme. Let us get to it, is that what I should say here?"
The sunlight is streaming down from the sky, and I wince in pain slightly at the burning sensation. You never really get used to it, the weakening properties of it.
Gathered members of the Spriggan Twelve are scattered around the courtyard, several groaning, but all of them getting up. I sigh. One would figure that an explosion of that magical proportion would at least do some lasting damage. But no.
I slide down on a collapsed support structure, and survey the tower that I just exploded. It's still standing, but I doubt for long. I don't particularly care for the people inside, as they're not as important as these powerhouses, but I suppose if they got out I wouldn't mind.
Doesn't mean I'm going to warn them, though. Common sense and all.
The first one to attack me is Brandish, shrinking the support I'm standing on. I glance down, and my wings immediately burst out of my back, keeping me afloat. She glares and growls deep in her throat.
"What are you going to do, Country Destroyer?" I taunt, and it occurs to me that she isn't the only one standing up.
However, Mneme behind me has nudged my attention through our link to the surrounding walls of the courtyard. Standing on it, spaced evenly, are Morrigan, Nexus, Orion, and Kurohebi.
Morrigan has her sword in her right hand, and a spell waiting to be released in her left. Orion has his bow drawn sideways, in a crouch, with six arrows, and I commend his abilities (215). Kurohebi is powering up his Mimic abilities, not using any Sand Magic due to the presence of the Desert King, but I'm sure by the end of this battle he could claim that title if he so wished. Nexus is starting to pluck the soul strings of the dead, his magic pulling the skeletons and wraiths up and binding them to his will.
"You cannot defeat the Spriggans on your own!" calls out Ajeel, standing and clearing himself of rubble.
"Do you think I am so stupid as to come and fight you on my own?" I respond, one eyebrow raised slightly.
The Desert King looks around with widened eyes, and spies the figures standing on the battlements.
"Only six of you? Like we'll lose."
"Oh, yes you will. I am glad that you are acknowledging this fact." I smirk, and drop down to a piece of rubble. I don't like being on my wings in battle; I am unused to it.
The smirk on Ajeel's face fades as he narrows his eyes at me, sending a Sand Storm straight at me. Kurohebi, Sithis bless him, redirects the magic and attracts it to himself, absorbing the attack and smiling devilishly.
Ajeel whips around and glares, angry at his attack failing. Kurohebi's lanky body and relaxed stance, adding in his smug little smirk and self assuredness oozing out of his body, and one can only imagine exactly how long it takes for Ajeel to attack him.
A pointless endeavor, as it will just be absorbed by Kurohebi, his Mimicry Magic and experience in mimicking Sand Magic making any and all of Ajeel's sand-based attacks useless and a waste of time and effort, not to mention magical energy. Whereas Kurohebi has everything else he can use at his disposal.
Oh, it takes about two seconds for them to start the fight.
Everyone else just falls into line with that.
Morrigan is fighting Brandish, the latter's Mass Manipulation magic having no effect on her opponent's ability to fight or stand her metaphorical ground. In contrast, Morrigan's wind based attacks are doing at least some damage to the Spriggan Twelve Member, but already, one can tell it will take some time before any type of victor is declared for any of these battles.
That includes me, as well. Synapsicodia just now blocked an attack from the Winter General, or Invel, as he's known. Using her magic, which I didn't really expect her to remember, she prompts a Sensory Link between the two of them, and starts to hurt herself to get him to give in. I'm not entirely sure how she's doing this. (216)
With Orion still aiming his shots, he refocuses them onto one target, Dimaria Yesta. The Valkyrie. Two impact her, while she blocks one and sends another flying, but the last one succeeds in knocking her on her feet.
Perhaps I should have taken another back up…. Orion does not know too much in the way of magic. But, that is not something I can fix at the moment.
Nexus pulls the strings and makes the dead walk, at the same instance that Wahl Icht summons his robots. This should make for an interesting fight.
This leaves the last two opponents for myself. Should be fun.
August and God Serena attack with the full force of their powers, attempting to hit me and make me stay down.
"You will bow to the glory of Spriggan!" Serena shrieks, and I jump backwards as he strikes the ground.
"I doubt I will. No one is as glorious as myself or my Dread Lord, and most certainly not Zeref, a fake god." I taunt, weaving my way backwards while trying not to get distracted by the raging battles surrounding me. Mass is shrinking and expanding as Brandish attempts to hit Morrigan, the dead and robots are everywhere, tearing each other to pieces, Orion is firing shot after shot with his rifles attempting to hit Dimaria, and I swear that sand is getting in everybody's eyes.
A good battle all around.
My own opponents seem intent on hurting me, as I slip out of the way of an elemental attack on the part of August, and avoid another few from Serena.
"You two can't seem to aim at all, can you?" I taunt the pair, and Serena roars in anger as August withdraws, seemingly to consider me and my power levels.
Serena launches at least twenty simultaneous attacks at me, most of which I avoid, but am hit by at least three, the burn of the magic seeping through my armor and leeching me of some of my strength.
I land heavily on the ground, and open my eyes to find, not the battleground I was just on, but, in it's stead, a huge amount of skulls, lining a pathway of red clay, oozing blood when pressure is applied, revealing an understructure of leg bones.
In the distance, I hear fighting, and I turn, almost as if I'm in ice, and see Bickslow and Nightshade clashing, my Mate being beaten into the ground with spells and ethereal power flowing from Nightshade's being.
My mouth opens involuntary as the last of Bickslow's strength dwindles and Nightshade's spell breaks through, sending his corpse spiralling through the air and landing at my feet, his eyes still open and the last of his life bleeding out of him. Red from the ground seeps onto his clothing, staining it, and I can do nothing but watch, wide eyed, as the bones underneath the road drag him under to join their ranks, his eyes not losing their question, imbedded in them.
It's the immortal question of, 'Why weren't you there?'
'Why didn't you save me?'
'Why didn't you teach me enough?'
I stare at the spot on the ground for a moment as the last of him vanishes under the red clay, blood drying a dark red, staining the earth where he fell.
Nightshade stands in the background, smiling insanely, while being drenched in blood from a spraying river. From there, she's quickly submerged in blood, and it flows down the hill, towards me, probably because I'm the cause of it.
I close my eyes, then open them again at my thought.
I'm the cause.
I am the cause.
It's not real.
I turn and feel something impact my cheek, probably a fist of God Serena. More pummels follow, until I'm kicked, I assume, back, impacting the rubble of the tower in actuality, but in my sight it's a pile of corpses, several clawing at me to save them. Among them are Decimus and Ortelloth, the pair's eyes staring up at the sky, a red that stains your soul, that doesn't wash out.
I shake my head and pull up, in my left hand, a Detect Life spell (217). In a hallucination, you cannot tell space regularly. My other hand draws Dawnbreaker, the first sword that I could think of built for one armed combat.
My magic, while depleted in sunlight, will be sufficient to power the spell for as long as I need to. Hopefully.
I start it, and find the an enemy is right next to me, probably taunting me in this incapacitated state. Impulsively, I take a slice at him, and it impacts, the figure staggering back a bit, as the blade ignites them on fire.
I slice again, and the lunge at the red magically outlined figure, missing. They move to the side of me and continue their taunt, or they're powering up a spell. Either way, I don't care. I just want this nightmare to end.
Using that mentality, I keep up the spell, draining my magicka constantly, and attacking with Dawnbreaker in my right hand. In the middle of one sweep, I am lifted off my feet and slammed into another pile of corpses, this time with Kessie and Morrigan on it. I close my eyes, as if I'm defeated, and wait for the person to come closer, their red aura shining through the hallucination.
Finally, said person kneels in front of me, and taunts me some more, though I don't care at this point. This has to end.
I draw up my sword and launch it into the stomach of the person, or wherever, I just know I hit them. Still gripping it, I pull it up, slicing through their abdomen greedily. The blood in my vision seems to come from a river, but I know better.
Sadly, when I look up at the person's face, it's Nightshade, her eyes filled with tears and pain, as her mouth forms a questioning 'why?'
I can mourn later, although this is a hallucination. Irregardless, I tear the sword out of their chest cavity, or what's left of it, and, using Detect Life to locate their head, I swing the sword through the air and chop off their head. All while reminding myself that I am not, in fact, murdering my daughter.
Unfortunately the hallucination doesn't dissolve. It ramps itself up, voices filtering through to my head, accusing me of being unfaithful and hurting the Family, murdering the Dark Brotherhood.
I crumple to the floor at the overwhelming sensations, blood flowing onto my hands and dripping there, staining everything I touch. I stumble upright, then backwards, as the spell hits me harder, with more and more scenes coming at me, the murders of my Lieutenants, the cold ways of those in death scorning them for listening to me, turning even the Dread Father against me.
Most horrifically of all, I see the battlefield on which I see myself slaughtering the last of the Family. At the end, my hallucinated self turns to watch me, and smiles, perfectly happy with her little world and her destruction and stupidity.
I cast the spell again, and launch my sword towards the figure on the battlements in red.
It strikes true, the hallucination dissolving around me as August falls from the walls, hitting the ground with an unceremonious thud, and groaning in pain. Taking deep breaths, I survey the battles occurring here still.
Brandish, still fighting Morrigan, looks worse for the wear, but both of them are panting and their magic appears to be lower than before. Obviously. Wahl Icht's robots are being attacked mercilessly by Nexus' dead, and they are certainly overwhelming the member of the Twelve. His hands disappear underneath a sea of wraiths, and in a moment, the wraiths dissipate, Nexus dropping to one knee, as Wahl Icht falls backwards, his body twitching as he's seen the light of death.
Dimaria Yesta is standing heroically over the body of Orion, preparing to strike a killing blow and end him. His bow is shattered, next to him, ready to die with it's master. I send a Lightning Bolt towards the Valkyrie, the impact sending her into the wall.
"Do not touch my Family." I drawl out, an aura radiating from me of darkness, death, and an unmistakable air of protectiveness.
Dimaria Yesta smiles, and attacks from across the arena. "I wanted a challenge! How did you know?"
I set up a Ward Wall, the woman impacting it and breaking through in about a second, but it gives me some time to think, preparing a spell to combat her abilities.
"Deal with these two." I speak, and upon my command, two Dremora Lords burst out of Oblivion, with heavy two handed weapons, screaming at her in Old Tamrielic, "YOU'LL MEET YOUR END, MORTAL!"
I step back and watch my handiwork as the two start to work on her, staggering the Twelve Member with power attacks and simultaneously setting her on fire. Such fun that is enchantments.
Kurohebi is winning the fight against Ajeel, and it looks like the killing blow is about to be dealt, as Ajeel transforms himself into sand, stirring up a sandstorm for everyone to perish under. Kurohebi smiles, and merely puts up his hand, casting a Magic Drain spell, and pulling in the sand of Ajeel.
The Desert King realizes his mistake too late, as the sand swirls in to the Mimicry Mage. Ajeel's sand body is sucked into the vortex, his magic becoming the only part of him that should ever affect something in this world again. Kurohebi sighs, not unhappily, at the increase in power, and looks around for a new combatant.
Speaking of, Dimaria has vanquished her two foes, and the good news is, she's tired, while the bad news is, I was distracted, so I am not prepared for a one on one fight here. Naturally, I take the easy way out and send her flying across the courtyard with a well placed "FUS RO DAH!"
She slams into the wall with a satisfying crack as her head whips back into said hard surface. I wince on her behalf. Even I know that that is not a pleasant experience.
I equip a Dragon Priest dagger, and approach the Valkyrie.
"You are a worthy opponent. You may rest now." I whisper in her ear, and slam the dagger into her heart, twisting it just right so that in a few moments she will be gone completely from this world.
I straighten from my crouch to her level, and survey the field of battle.
The last person battling anyone visibly is Morrigan, and Brandish is looking more and more tired by the second. I feel a sense of pride burst through my chest as I watch the two dance, and then move along, checking up on Orion. He's breathing, thank Sithis, and alive, with minimal damage. I heave a sigh of relief. Nothing could fill me with more joy at this time.
Except, perhaps, the gift that Synapsicodia has for me.
She approaches me with Invel in tow, the Winter General and her deep in discussion.
"Listener." she breathes, eyes alight with reverence. "I have some very good news."
"What is it, Mneme?" I ask, looking at the woman curiously.
"Invel has agreed to adhere to the ideals of the Dark Brotherhood! He says that he has admired us and our organization from afar for quite some time."
He blushes slightly, not sure why, but he nods. "You are strictly in order with everything, making you the ideal organization with the hierarchy and incentives to match."
"You wish to join the Black Hand?" I arch an eyebrow, skeptical.
"Yes." he flushes furiously, but his hopeful look is too cute.
"I will admit, you in the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood would help both our image and our power…. But you will have to start from the bottom, and take whatever job we give you. I assume you don't have a lot of morals against killing for profit, or if that person has not broken any laws?"
"I do not. Working with the Spriggan Twelve is….. not exactly the easiest thing in the world for someone who enjoys structure and rigid rules." he grimaces.
"I can imagine. But, before I let you in, Invel, because I would like you to join our ranks, you must tell me something." I consider, thinking about all of my goals. I should take care of this one while I still have the chance.
"Anything." his eyes light up, hopeful.
"Tell me where Spriggan is." 210- I'm really bad at tactics concerning not just me. So I could be wrong.
211- Do not, however, dismiss the red and black. They are the colors of the Black Hand, and my personal favorites. They would have disrupted the operation the moment we set foot on the ground.
212- This is in character for a priestess. They never cut their hair. Ever.
213- Priestesses are like Mephala; they make delicate works of magic, almost art, with threads of magic. Takes years to learn, and longer to perfect, but, done right, it can protect an entire continent from virtually anything.
214- Not because it burned or anything; the trigger for my outfit was the bells. Now I'm in my regular assassin's clothing.
215- I certainly can't do that.
216- Not because of me questioning her magical prowess or skill; I thought you had to touch a person physically. I guess not. But doesn't it require a bond?
217- I would use the Shout to keep both hands free to attack, but it does not tell friend from foe.