Constance: Marveling over Novus' ruins and speaking of godhood

[04:40] Upon rubble of a desecrated city of progress lies the somber soul of a lone figure. Amidst the distant howls of Pandemonium itself, one sits upon the precipice of where death becomes nigh assured; the border betwixt safety and utter chaos.

A billowing cloak dances amidst the williwaw of the ocean behind her. The brim of a widened pointed hat sits upon the esoteric woman. All whilst she bore an eccentric pose, clung tightly upon the wooden staff of her figure.

Distracted. Almost in a state of calm as a singular sienna iris pensively looks upon the destruction.

It were not until a slight motion across the sea of nothingness that the wicked witch stirs from her tranced occupation. A younger soul trapezes against the will of the unleashed horror.

Misplaced? Or were this purposed.

Eye contact is made, the burning reds sparingly posing to meet with the Vorso's. Yet no words or immediate actions were taken. She had only posed herself to remain as an audience for now—curious.
(Lady Astoria)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[04:40] * You have been awarded 1 Roleplay Points! *
[04:52] Scarlet eyelids flutter into Novus' desecrated metropolis. The countless booths reduced to rubble, pools of black tar gathered in what appeared to be the damage wrought by the demonslayers' pandemonium.

The horrors witnessed by these young eyes could not be expressed in words. One had to have been present during the havoc that such an atrocity caused.



Thankfully. It was gone for the time being, away from the section of town where the young Vorso had ended up, likely causing havoc on other parts of town. The poor citizens.

Kael yawns and rubs his eyes. He had bags under his sight, most likely from the lack of sleep caused by the disaster.

Nevertheless, his gaze is drawn to the cloaked woman to his right, who is standing near a fence that separates her from the ocean to her left.

A notion enters his mind suddenly. Why shouldn't he go say hello? Humans, after all, depend on social contact, and there was nothing to do in this desolate metropolis filled with ruin and sorrow.

So his brief walk begins, and he quickly finds himself near the woman. "Hello." His inquisitive expression pleads for more words to exit his mouth. "Who might you be?"
(Kael Vorso IV)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[05:03] At the pattered footsteps across pavements marred with ruination does the singular exposed eye follow the silhouette's approaching motives with each inch closed in. There is an uncanny stillness to her, undeterred by any quivers or shakes of the ground nor any shrill and punishing winds of the seaside waves.

Instead, she remains statuesque, keeping her gaze forth as the boy moves in to address.

Crunched upon the scrutinizing expression that had remained stagnant upon her features, the lady would remain wordless. Still, she had remained in survey of the sudden arrival of a third party.

For no child should be willingly exposed to such dangers like the fallen city's perpetrator.

Suddenly, an evocation of motion clamors from her frozen figure. An arm expands, pushing back her cloak as it flutters upon a gothic movement behind her figure; a hand shifts to lay before the eye-patched eye, almost as it she had held its socket, keeping it closed; all whilst a pose of flamboyant nature ruptures any composition that she had held up prior.

"There are many names to posed to thee," she opens, her posh and extravagant wording almost immediately noticeable at the first syllable. "The Wicked One, The Bearer of Diavolo, and many others."

Slowly does her eccentric pose be rescinded, returning to a default stance; back straightened, armed clung upon her staff. "Yet my titles fall unneeded of any mention. Not right now."

"For a vessel that had posed a façade incapable of traversing the very hearth of Pandemonium itself... treads so carelessly amidst its footsteps."

She raises a brow.

"Why so?"
(Lady Astoria)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[05:26] Kael takes a firm seat on the fence. While evaluating the woman, he said nothing. Her unusual charisma exuded an odd atmosphere.  Posture suggested flamboyance and confidence, yet the way she carried herself had been nonchalant.

He squints in reaction to her response. To possess that many titles, one must be fairly influential to the continent's state or at the very least popular. He'd merely make a passing comment. "Well, that's lot of titles."

As his crimson tresses flutter from side to side, the air surrounding them seems calm and serene. Given his current location, Novus, the Vorso-founded metropolis, such strands of hair may have identified his heritage.

"Treads so carelessly..." He'd mull over such words.

He was then posed a question. Why would a child find himself in the midst of a ruined city? Considering all of these hazards and threats all around?

The answer is simple. "Because it is my home. Why should I leave when things get bad when I've lived here my entire life instead of remaining to help?" And if he couldn't fight? He would donate food and support doctors who aid the needy.

But most importantly? Learning from the chancellor and the numerous personalities who have led this city throughout the years is beneficial since he hopes to one day be the face of Novus.

A seconds pause before scarlet hues flicker to the woman once more. "And why are you here..?" While Kael felt obligated to remain, the same couldn't be said for everyone.

(Kael Vorso IV)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[05:39] The answer, as clear as it may had been, posed the quandary of bepuzzlement before the morn features of the regal figure. For the act of unfathomable charity had seemed such a foreign influence.

Within a world plunged in opportunity and feuds, it had momentarily wrought a brow to be raised by the very prospect upon the witch.

"Altruism that had long clouded the rays of dialectics. This requiem leaves me in consolation," she answers. "To cling dearly upon a world on the verge of consumption, were it truly the mortal whims of sentimentality that brings one face-to-face with the maw of the void..."

She looks off, distant. The soft wave of the wind brushing past black tuffs of hair as a sense of longing creeps upon her feature.

"Truly, this world holds more mysteries than answers," she audibly ponders.

For with one's own intentions were revealed, it were only by proper equivalent exchange for her to meet of equal value. She stirs once more, only to settle upon a simple pose. An animated one, she were.

"I merely follow the whims of my patron's wingbeats," she responds, plainly in her statement had her intentions be made manifest. "For in my visions, whence this city stood, I had foreseen the terrible fate it were to fall under."

"To my dismay, non-believers were abundant."

She sighs, her hand returning to lay before her eyepatch. "Now they simply sit in the shadow of their ignorance. I will wallow in their errors for they had shunted my goodwill."
(Lady Astoria)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[05:57] Perhaps she was correct. The rational decision here was to flee the city, start a new life, and not expose their people, their lineage, to such a disaster.

However.. "I don't entirely disagree. We might be idiots, bold fools. But it's all about loyalty... For without loyalty? Such a great nation could not have been built. And if we stand together and endure, we will most certainly win."

And, anyway, he believed in his grandparents, uncles, and everyone else. The Vorso was proud to be born into such a family, and the patriotism he exhibited for the city outweighed any other sentiments of dread or uncertainty that may have resonated inside his heart.

Lips curl into a smile as he contemplates over these thoughts.. Eyes staring into the distance while his left hand, a limb mutated by the shadows held a tight grip upon the ledge he'd been seated upon.

He rolls his eyes at the notion of a primordial before eventually fixing his gaze on her face. "Ah—Patron had predicted such a doom for our wonderful city, eh?"

While such gods were revered and respected for their power and influence over mortals? In this realm, man had the most potential. Such entities were irrelevant to him.

"And what if our cities' defenses defeat the impending atrocity? A deity cannot know what will happen in the future. Because, in more ways than one, mankind has long reigned supreme on this continent." He was convinced that this disaster will be defeated and dealt with soon.

A brow furrows; who might this patron be? "Who is your patron?"
(Kael Vorso IV)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[06:08] "Deity?" Her query almost falls confused. Only at a momentary connection of dots that a creeping smile and the following joyous laughter fall from her countenance.

"Such an interesting outlook, this one. Much so that it even falls for hasty assumptions. For to jump against the gods is..." The bottom of her palm curls, allowing her chin to rest upon it as her prevalent visage now invoked an almost smug emanation. "...a spectacle I would much love to see the outcome of. As an audience, of course."

"Oh dearly how mortals puff chests and brandish a blade against any foe, oft merely to satiate their pride," she utters. "How beguiling."

She pulls back, following further chuckles at the presented motives. By no means had it been taunting, for it were moreso like one had presented a convincing jest at another.

"Serve one or yearn for its downfall. Why is it so that you all are so elatedly drawn toward beings like so," she questions. "But then again, what does that make I?"

Her hands pull back, cupping amongst each other as it moves to be still before her chest, just where the heart would be. "After all, there are much more worldly creature that would benefit more of silly interests mortal dreams."

From the spot of her dress, it catches upon flame. From embers, to grows as clasped within her palms burns an oddity of radiating heat. It dances amidst the wind and yet it seems beholden to Astoria's skin. She is not maimed by its heat, moreso it seemed to have invigorated her.

"For behold, the Phoenix Light's Decree."

"My patron is I, and I am my patron."
(Lady Astoria)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[06:38] It was one of the ideologies he had picked up over the years.  To assume that it was a god's forecast for their doomsday was natural for him, and he liked the idea because he firmly believed in mankind beyond all else. How they'd defy their expectations.

However, he may have been perplexed by her first words. "It's not akin to opposing the gods. More specifically, challenging their expectations? One day, humanity will reach such dizzying heights that primordial's very existence would be jeopardized." It was a fascinating notion.

It was baffling and intriguing to think that magitech and humans might progress so far as to constitute a danger to deities without divine abilities.

"W-Woah—"
He back-pedals, and the gloomy left hand breaks its grasp, allowing himself to go... The action of falling into a body of water. His attire was now all drenched, but it didn't matter because all he was wearing were worn out rags for whatever reason.

He'd swim back slowly. Keeping himself afloat above the water by moving his arms in circular patterns till he returned.

Just suddenly, flames erupt from her garment, and her palms emit heat, bound to her flesh. Perhaps a pyromancer? Such flames aided him in drying off the water he'd just soaked himself in since he'd been standing near.
Blink

Blink.

"..Huh? 'You're your patron,' you say. What does patron imply in this context..." He trails off.  At this moment, the Vorso couldn't quite understand. Was he merely a moron? Or  pe rhaps such an encounter was out of the norm.
(Kael Vorso IV)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[06:55] The heated bloom flutters and sparks careen free from its hold. In this miniature display does the eventual unfurling of tiny wings seems to lie outstretched. Only in doing so does it eventually subside.

In a sudden action does the woman's hands ball into fists. From it, the flames are quenched as the lasting smoke filters and dissipates upon the eventide's whims.

For even at the boy's faltered disposition into the ocean's embrace, there were nay a single morsel of a response from the witch. She had only stood, patiently awaiting their resurfacing action as a hand buckles upon her hip.

"There are many questions upon Eternia's graced atropos. Some, though may be answered, would surely only leave more confusion to the uninitiated populace," she confirms.

From it, a hand moves in to flick her hair. Once more, she distances her gaze, now opting to gaze before the looming ruins to the east, just past the boy. "To explain it will lead only to more questions. Yet for but a taste that would provide every needed context for the gospel: yes. For in my only blessings had I beamed to unfurl gift to thyself."

Whether she were delusional, purposefully speaking in doublespeak, or but in an odd enigmatic state of mind remains unknown.

"Still, the harboring of competition against godhood's comforts. Such an odd point of motivation. Even that, I myself find confusion at its efficacy," she reminds. "Hence, I do believe that brings the scales of fate and knowledge at a perfect flatline, hm?"

She pulls free her cloak, allowing it to flow in tandem of the grasped force. And in that gesture does it seem to lead to an eventual egress.

No more words invoke a sense of answer from her. For she had missed some for herself, the lady had believed it to be fair that others bear the same fate as she.

Lest stopped, she merely becomes nothing more than a shadow that had once graced the ruins of Novus.
(Lady Astoria)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[07:11] His mind is consumed by the mystery around a claim. He's not speaking to a regular person, for sure. But he pouts because of the uncertainty and how hazy she stays.

He despised it when grownups were ambiguous in their comments; it upset him. That is what kept that piece of information interesting.

However, harboring rivalry towards godhood has a valid basis. "How could I not feel resentment towards such higher beings? See how these angels and stars respond to Osrona's prayers? They, however, do not to ours." When Osrona is threatened with servitude and annihilation, those higher entities intervene.

While they are...? "The only entity who had ever helped us was the angel of death. Or, more accurately, a collaboration." All things considered, it was ironic.

He doesn't ponder about it any further after watching her transform into a shadow. Idle and willowy. eH begins to move away. While waving at her, he enjoyed the talk.
(Kael Vorso IV)