Closer Through Sorrow

[01:55] The Accursed was not in the mood to begin with. Most other days she takes the japes and jabs in stride, the eyes upon her, the hushed whispers.

But today? Today her mood is foul, her disposition bitter and her heart?

Grieving.

Normally she keeps herself and her more base urges fairly well composed, but with the breaking of her nose comes the breaking of that composure. She howls a banshee screech, winds whipping around her as the demons that circle her.

She has had ENOUGH of all this.

Ardith harries the young Nagual with a barrage of cutting winds and concussive sonic fusillades, all to drive her back, to force her into pain and submission. They want her to be a monster? Here she is, the one they wanted, for all to see in Gehenna's very own square.
(Ardith Hirai)
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[01:56] Syril whispers something.
[02:00] As she summons the lighting to cloak her and the occult to act as her weapon, Sho is reminded of something Azarashi once said.

You'd protect me if I ever needed it.

Is that what this was? Was she protecting him? Or was this just a chance to get violent? Maybe it's this whirlwind of thoughts that keeps her from winning. Or perhaps it's something more primal, like the accursed's undoubtedly superior magical ability.

As much as Sho tries to catch her and land another lightning-empowered punch, she's always just a little too slow or a little too late. Her blows never land with the impact she wants.

And at the same time... while she's a well of stamina from her dual-use of lightning and cosmic energy, Sho can only take so much punishment. The wind and the noise pile on and on until finally, she's launched back onto the stairs of the temple.

When she lands, she doesn'tget up. Instead she's just lying there coughing.

"Ugh...!"
(Sho Gwyn)
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[02:05] Syril whispers something.
[02:10] With the quick, one-sided skirmish coming to a brisk end, Adar would bolt in to properly deem the conflict over. A hand extended over to hover just a few inches away from the accursed's chest, prompting her to stop her unadulterated assault.

"Enough." He'd declare, sternly staring into Ardith's restless gaze. The Gwyn laid clearly beaten, humiliated, even. To stay down now and retreat would be wise, since this was a fight she had perked up on her whim alone, boasting it about. "Enough." He'd repeat himself, giving the cursed wind's wielder a nod.

"You've fought for your name, and you've won. This point of contention is settled." Then with a wince, he'd look back at the crumbled down hellstorm magi, awaiting her eventual recovery from the mostly superficial beatdown as she laid over the temple's steps.

"Wits about you, now. Pick yourself up and leave."
(Adar)
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[02:14] Ardith does not step forward. She lurches, shambling towards where Sho has fallen. But then...

Then something is in her way. Her dull red eyes, now alight with life and malice, flicker up to the floating magi's face. He gets no words in reply, instead a deep, rumbling snarl rumbles up from her gut.

Where once she bared her teeth against her Nagual assailant, now she bares them against Adar. The fact that he is a friendly face gives her pause initially. Then no more. In this moment her mind isn't wholly her own.

The growl is followed by another ear-drum shattering howl, one that somehow echoes inside the heads of bystanders, no matter how they might try to cover their ears.

The intent is clear: move aside, or be next.
(Ardith Hirai)
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[02:17] Roxanne recoiled from the loud howl when it came. It wasn't something she appreciated at all and the fact Adar was right before that woman clearly made her concerned. No longer was she all smiles and butterflies; a rather serious look appeared on her face as she paid more attention to the altercation before her eyes.

If things were to go bad... She couldn't imagine the worse!
(Roxanne Lonval)
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[02:20] Malzvatan simply observes from afar. He does not desire to be this Ardith's next target.
(Malzvatan)
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[02:20] Humiliation, anger, and resigned sadness all play across Sho's face as Ardith approaches her. It's all she has in her to snarl and flash a little fury behind her eyes.

Everything about her says finish it, then.

And she looks ready for it, too. Those are the eyes of someone who's stared down death before, and the thought of it coming from this woman is shameful, but something she can accept.

But that's not to say she doesn't flee when she gets the chance. The second Adar distracts her, Sho pushes herself up and in a flash of red lighting, blinks several meters away. Cradling her side and glaring daggers at him she warns, "Stay away from him..."

Then gets her ass out of there.
(Sho Gwyn)
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[02:22] Syril couldn't tear his eyes away from the brewing altercation. Reverbant howling aside; watching as the accursed shambled forward...

Intending to lash out once again against an innocent-... city official? Local do-gooder? All for the chance to tear that Nagual asunder- how bullheaded of her.

…

Oh.

Sho ran- The man's solely remaining eye remained glued onto Adar; even as he slowly backed away to hand Sumiye something...
(Syril)
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[02:35] The astronavigator was suddenly coated by a veil of opaque, dense magic of transmundane origin. A cloud of pure occult energy, one oozing with a halo of lethargy and despondency. Being around his figure in itself would be enough to be undriven by abjection and abasement. To mortals, thoughts become bleak, sorrowful, dreary.

"I said enough, Ardith. You need to get a hold of yourself, this is not you." With a sincere, hard-nosed look, he'd coat the accursed with that very same shroud of dole magic. Unlike a human would usually respond, such aura would feed the accursed's thirst for violence and grudge much like the dreadwooods' gloom - but to a much more concentrated degree. "You gave her what she had coming, you no longer need this violence."

She'd feel her heart dampen it's pace in resonance to Adar's listless corona of radiance, her adrenaline levels falling notably. What would translate to feelings adversely crippling to a man, yet fodder idleness of mood to the pacteé.

"Let's talk, this is not necessary."
(Adar)
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[02:45] At first she slows. The Accursed's heartbeat becomes sluggish, just as Adar wills. It feels like...home. Like the Dreadwoods, where she is safe. Her eyes draw slowly up again to the astrologist.

But this isn't the Dreadwoods. This isn't home, and memories of home bring with them a keen, painful longing that draws another telepathic, sound-enhanced howl of agony from the occult-mad creature.

Not just the howl is projected to the bystanders, but feelings of that longing and despair are translated directly into their minds, assaulting their psyches from within with invasive occultic energy against their will.

The attempt at pacifying her backfires. She goes wild, rampant, and begins buffeting the source of that energy with a fresh, violent assault. Her intent is single-minded, her fury uncurbed. Ardith gives in to despair and the heady high that comes with barbarism.
(Ardith Hirai)
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[02:53] Adar flinches, abruptly coating himself with a frontal shield of transmundane properties to parry the assault. And while he partially succeeds, he is still pushed back violently, landing several on his feet at a considerable distance from the temple's stairs.

His method had not functioned at all. In fact, he was now subject to mild anxiety and unease. It was time to improvise and manually subdue her. Something he had tried to avoid, yet could no longer waltz around.

"I have to stop you." With his mind made up wholly, these adverse sensations only fueled up the obscure flame to burn further up, coalescing around him - like a skeleton beyond his very own figure.

"I have no choice."
(Adar)
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[03:02] The initial counter assault is obscenely swift. For such a slender, poorly-toned physique, Adar's movements are unnaturally agile. He bolts, twirls and turns around and through the accursed's flurry of cursed winds, stomping out the lesser demons she'd shield herself behind as a mere coincidence.

With a few rough stomps of magnetic pull driving her in, Ardith is left defenseless against the dance of the navigator's punishing flame, which would surround and blast her into brief, incidental submission.

Only then, a second chance was offered to try and appeal to her better senses. If her consciousness was there to heed the call at all, he'd reach out and try to grasp for it.

"Ardith, for the last time - enough! I am not the Nagual that has sparked your ire. Get it together! I wish naught to harm you." Resolutely, yet colored by faint distress, Adar demands she yields once more. The result, otherwise, would be clear. "Halt your onset at once!"
(Adar)
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[03:04] Ardith's wild, completely mad, and just out of combat as it stands. Adar has agility over her in spades. That doesn't stop her from continuing her assault. Not in the slightest.

His use of gravitational forces pulls her into flames, making her shrieks louder and more filled with agony.

But never does she stop. The call to halt isn't heeded, the command to cease responded to only with snarls and growls and, surprising to no one, more attempts at violence.

If she's going to be halted at all, it is becoming clear it must be by force. Something has finally snapped within the Accursed and the demonic denizens of the surrounding jungle are all too happy to join in.
(Ardith Hirai)
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[03:33] Don't make me do this…!

Ardith is verbally unresponsive, her demeanor had become purely beast-like. Much to Adar's dismay, whose only true virtue laid within words and reason, forcing her to submit was the only conceivable option.

The square, given the commotion of the clash both transmundane magi had become catalysts to, would be victim to mild wreckage and distraught. Natives, visitors and trades ran in fear as the polarly enhanced elemental magic of the keeper and heartsmith clashed into blistering implosions of hot air.

Adar's only chance to avoid further collateral damage? To finish her off as quickly as possible, yet with subtly. His coup de grace was conditioned by the welfare of the backdrop in question.

With little time and no room for error, the scholar's mind trailed to the one choice that was made obvious. Too far from any place desolate enough to plow her to submission, the only option was to fly.

Mindlessly, almost reacting impulsively to the stakes, Adar tackled the accursed head on, clasping himself onto her as tightly as his limbs would allow. Then, surrounding them both by a dense coat of opaque flames, they'd lift off with the very same momentum.

There was something off to the rapid levitation in which they'd take flight. It was unlike the magnetic, weightless flying the navigator was usually seen doing. This time, something actually pushed the both of them upwards an away.

The abstract protuberances coming from the man's back had taken a more figurative shape; like appendages flapping; like clapping of hands in applause; a pair of wings.

Then, upon reaching an altitude deemed safe enough? A blunt, opaque explosion of curse, heat and force saw both their figures encompassed. One that, under careless circumstances, would've ravaged city blocks worth of plot, building and estate like they'd never been there.

The feat could be well seen from just underneath cloud level, looming above the town and briskly lighting the city a vibrant purple for a split second.

Few seconds later, they'd descend, worn and beaten. Adar, with the unconscious accursed in his arms, lamented the event in it's entirety. This was all his fault. He thought magic would've sufficed to quell her thirst and ire, yet the plan backfired entirely, potentially further harming others.

Adar cursed below his breath upon reaching ground level, hiding his gaze from the onlookers.
(Adar)
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[03:44] Ardith knows no remorse, no solace, no content. She has a few singular desires in mind; destruction, violence, mayhem. Nothing good is in her mind and heart. Only wrath and ruin.

Not just for Adar either. Everyone and everything has suddenly become a target in her monstrous periphery. No exceptions. Collateral damage? Icing on the cake in the midst of her rampage.

They meet in a head-on clash, the astrologist brazenly grappling and hoisting the stampeding Accursed and taking her straight upward where she might wreak the least amount of havoc.

And, evidently, where his final mana-fueled barrage would do the least harm to innocent bystanders.

She has enough fire in her belly, enough breath in her lungs to scream and struggle all up until the final concussive pulse. Fire licks her skin and blunt force trauma wracks her head. A final shriek dies in her throat. Her eyes go dull, then close. Her body goes limp. Ardith is no longer capable of fighting, battered, beaten, and singed.

The Beast rampages no more. Silenced by force.
(Ardith Hirai)
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[03:49] As the battle would close and Ardith would fall, The Wolf would make his reappearance upon the scene. Clothes messy and wrinkled, giving a terrible distraught appearance.

"Adar."

He'd call out as his icy mist creeps forth amongst the grass. Tendrils flowing and encircling what was his. A single claw-nail would point out at the accursed as he utters one more word.

"Mine."

He'd motion forth for his fellow occultist to deliver the goods onto him. Not wanting to make an even bigger scene, yet perhaps wanting to atone for leaving.

Biggest mistake of the night, honestly.
(Famfrit)
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[03:56] Adar grimaces begrudgingly, then bites his lower lip to the point where it bleeds. He's stirred and uneasy, unnervingly so. A hand presses down against his now silenced comrade's cheek painstakingly, much like an apology for his brute finale to her berserk. Caressing her like she were a lost, whimsical child.

Ardith. Poor Ardith. Poor aching Ardith.

He had gotten what he wanted, to an extent. Yet, he was dissatisfied. Eager to make his leave abruptly and conceal her from both authorities and onlookers, Adar turned on his heel to sneak away.

Yet, amidst his flinty brooding over his unfortunate victory, he had given time for one to confront him. One he had since his second birth been his guardian. The laughing wolf stood menacingly, beckoning him over in nonchalance.

In similar, short-spoken demeanor, one he'd have assimilated in times of distress from Famfrit himself, he replied.

"I'm taking her." Sternly, he spoke back, no longer allowing himself to be oppressed. Emancipating ethically. "She's safe."

With a light press of his eyelids, he'd only gaze further behind the mask. Pictured the face only him and a handful of others had been given chance to ever see.

"Out of my way."
(Adar)
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[04:02] .. And even though he was scared, it was like what he was told by Atsushi pushed him to travel about. Even if only in the slightest..

He holds both twin pulse pistols in his hands, looking about carefully as he shifted in and out of the settlements of Gehenna. As he comes upon the sparring fields..

He watches, carefully. He says nothing. His head sticks out of the stall barely, and he readjusts his glasses.
(Domino)
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[04:02] No, that wasn't an answer he'd abide by. Not at all.

The icy tendrils of occultic matter slither forth and around Adar, posing themselves ready to strike at any moment. The Air grows turbulent and stale. The world grows just a shade darker.

"No, no you aren't. I said it, I'll say it again. They're /MINE/."

The Wolf would say with such ferocity that the air around him bends in terror, letting forth razor sharp ripples to cut the plant life. Circling about and barely missing the duo.

"I've fucked up leaving them before. I thought you'd watch after them, but now you're taking them from me?

Adar out of everyone here I thought you'd know NOT to get in my way."

Pure malice bleeds forth from his body as his occultism spreads. The fields would wilt in his very presence. His emotions running free once more,

"Leave."

His final demand.
(Famfrit)
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[04:22] "Then I've done your work for you." He'd snarl back, begrudgingly.

Perhaps outmatched, Adar could only keep his façade up in a harsh bluff. As the bleak imponent halo of Famfrit paced onwards and immersed the duo in dole and discouraged any backlash, the navigator's own aura of abjection could only shield itself from submitting altogether through adrenaline.

In denial, he'd bark back at the gundog with desperation, tensing up his jaw and straining from the back of his throat.

"Where do you come into all of this!?" Severance. "What will you do with them if I do!?" Ennui, misery. "How can I trust you with them!?" Despondency, dejection. "How can I trust you at all, Famfrit!?"

Adar's heart, torn, struggled and bit back at the cavity of his chest, hunting for answers, rejecting the stakes. Questions were raised, belatedly voiced, to the moments unanswered, to perhaps never be.

His will, however? It stood unwavering.

"I'm not letting go. I can't confide in you with her wellbeing. I'm returning her home."

Were he to die out of whim? Then perhaps it was simply meant to be.
(Adar)
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[04:26] Adar stood between The Wolf and his prey, defiantly at that. Snarling, barking, going against every order he'd give out. So many questions yet none of them would be answered, no, the time for talking had long ended. It was time for Famfrit to claim what was his. To rectify his mistake in a way he found right.

His left arm raises and suddenly Adar is beset by an invisible force. Arcane fangs would attempt to dig into his body and throw him back, leaving no damage but causing pain all the same.

With it a feeling of wrongness, but Adar would be familiar with it by now.

His assault wouldn't end there, no. That was simply the first blow. A hailstorm forms about the sparring fields as Famfrit rushes in to put down the pest keeping him away from Ardith.
(Famfrit)
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[04:37] ** Famfrit has inflicted an injury upon Adar. ("Temporary Injury", "Temporary Injury", "Temporary", "Duration: Medium (4 days)") **
[04:45] They had known each other for most of their lives. Friends that'd grow distant as Famfrits decent into chaos begun. Losing each other to time and other obligations completely. Schism after Schism would form between the two until it all lead up to this point.

The Magician vs The Moon. Two of the last fragments of Tobias's memory. Clashing over some simple argument, who'd get to deliver Ardith to safety. The Wolf's own wellbeing was in the trash can. With each of his forays he'd lose more and more of himself, his mental state decaying as his own power grows. An untreated occultist let loose into the world.

A barrier of ice would form around Ardith. His possession, his prize. Protecting her from the unclean hands of Adar. Whispers in Famfrits ear telling him to let him no closer.

Adar would be buffeted by the occult hailstorm. Washing over the field and breaking the very ground below. Freezing, thawing and giving birth to umbretarn tentacles that'd grasp at his ankles. Blades of wind fly at him and cut deep into his skin letting his blood free.

Yet Adar had grown, and grown. He had became a powerful force that would challenge Famfrit, something The Wolf had rarely seen. His black fire searing his body and boiling most of his magic. The sheer force he contained was impressive, but it lacked finesse.

Finally, a blast of telekinetic energy grabs hold. Those invisible fangs are driven deep within his middle, further and further. Piercing skin, yet leaving no internal damage. Famfrits magic turning the Arcane bit into conduits of his own occult madness.

Sorrow, Despair, Anxiety. All running through Adar. Bringing the two closer once more.

With his final blow Adar would be knocked back, and Famfrit would claim Ardith. Intending to run off to who knows where.
(Famfrit)
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[05:09] Having been robbed of the accursed's limp body, which would rest in safe confines within a mana-made prismatic prison of gelid liquid, Adar was launched head-first into combat once more with no interval.

In spite of his strain and wariness, and to the bitter edge of collapse, he'd contest judgement over Ardith's wellbeing. Yet, it was a fight he was doomed to fail from the start. Knowingly, yet consciously blinding himself from the bleak, obvious truth, Adar lit himself ablaze to the limit, effectively rendering himself a temporary equal to the wolf's overbearing cursed blizzard.

Within the slurs of dread and higher forces, the stimuli had quickly started to falter in clarity. The frostbite peeling away at his pale, virginal skin; the darkness, dust and rubble ridding him of clear sight; the dolor taste of decadence in the water leftover, rendering taste pointless; even the Keeper's own implosions of combustion and noxious clouds of black fire had rendered his own senses of hearing and smell filtered and dull.

Adar, pushing himself forward through inertia and anaerobically fighting past the point of shredding through tissue, muscle and nerve, fought while unconscious. A set of dark, purple airfoil mindlessly carrying him in and out of stakes on it's own.

For a moment, his silhouette and Tobias had seemed to match in their vibrant outline. Two polar opposites, fighting the same fight. Because they had chosen to do so. Because they deemed it necessary.

Then, as his pacing of the battle had seemed to finally falter, and with a final burst of telekinetic energy, Adar was unabatedly introduced, not only to the arcane, but to what Famfrit had seen himself turned to entirely. Adar was stabbed into. A dagger into his heart, both figuratively as not so.

An agent of change. Changed. Unhinged.

Everything went dark. Everything went silent. This was Famfrit. This was hell. Failure. Bleakness. Purple.

He had lost.
(Adar)