Crowley & Sophie

[21:04] The chaos made way for what Crowley could only appreciate, to say the least. Its slender fingers continued to play at the violin that was left behind by the former maestro, the illusion mimicking all its movements, although without any sound.

The music continued, the syndicalist playing and daftly retreating back into the lines of the Syndicate. If the world said they were to fight today, they would. If they were not? They would simply accompany the situation from afar.

Yet, there were those left alone.

The ones closer to the door.

Nothing that the jester wouldn't notice, of course, instead opting to play these melancholic tunes closer to them, care enough taken to avoid whatever non-magi were still present and trying to tackle them, but still continue these tunes.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zl9FTlKK1e0)
(Crowley)
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[21:20] Sophie cos Duran was not one to idle back in a time of trouble like this. She was an attendee to the Gala, a noblewoman. But she is also a cadet, and a member of the Duran household. No, these are not demons, they're people. But the Demon Hunters existed to fight. They existed to Protect people. To her, it is regardless of whether they are demons, or people of the chaotic sort.

"Victoria will protect Fran and Eloise. I'll help the guardsmen." Sophie assures herself, and through that, she could aim to protect everyone.

Sophie had drawn her hidden gladius from under her skirt, tearing it in the process to increase mobility, before she went charging in. It was as expected- in the span of just a few second after that speech, the whole manor would break out into total chaos, as numerous blade clashes began all throughout the area. She was no exception. Within seconds of lunging into the fray, she finds herself at odds against the masked man, Crowley, their steel seconds short of meeting in violence and sparks.

"I understand the woes of your people, but bringing destruction and harm upon us was never the way to express it!" Sophie declares.
(Sophie cos Duran)
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[21:23] The sound of Crowley's violin playing was soon enough interrupted by one of the nobles deciding to pick a fight with the not-so-peaceful jester. It was not attacking anyone by any definition, but it was indeed playing a stolen violin with a knife.

Was there much more edge to be added? Unlikely, at this point. The multitude of its images accumulated around, aiming to simply spread themselves as widely as possible due to the current circumstances.

Yet, it waited. There was no motion for them to attack, but simply to continue their dance amidst the situation - Not to mention the likeliness that the blood in the blade that stained the violin came from one of the soldiers that were killed in the same room they were just in.

Perhaps he had taken its time exploring, but there seemed to be no objective except simply opening the doors and causing a ruckus. A few torches toppled, aiming to set fire to some wings of the area, but alas, in the end, the noble girl stopped him.

The featureless mask stared back at her, and the mask twisted in an illusion that it frowned to her, faux eyebrows knitting together. The nonexistent eyes under the porcelain staring back at her, and there were a few words to be spared perhaps.

"I do not mean to harm the children. If you do understand the woes of my people, you would not be here." There was some somberness to the androgynous voice underneath, a female undertone to it even - And yet, it continued.

"This is for the best, if you do care. Acknowledge it." There was no hesitance on the clown to fight, but it seemed that whatever fight was going to happen wouldn't stop him from...

Dancing.

To the tune he was playing himself.
(Crowley)
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[21:30] She continued, no matter what his plea was. The jester's mask morphed, a frown taking over the formerly nonexistent lips, curled downwards carefully. There were vows in play.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." Each strike that came from him was replied with that. Of course, she was hitting back at him, but... It didn't truly matter, did it?

Yet, as the battle went on, the jester's blade started to stain with blood. The blood of a noble. "You are one of them." The words continued to flow, almost musically; At whatever opportunity he had, he continued to play the violin.

Until the dagger broke the strings. It all changed, suddenly. The illusion on the mask's face turned into an angry furrow of his eyebrows, and not before long, things were growing direr.

Flesh wounds were turning into deep scars.

Even if she was to win, she would be scarred. This much was certain.
(Crowley)
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[21:38] Sophie saw the blood on the violin and the blood on their blades. They had taken lives to get here. The pleas, to Sophie, were nothing more then a joke. They were but an expression that mocked the people in this manor.

"This is not for the best. You've chosen a road that will rip away peoples lives." Sophie declares. "People are not demons, so do not act like it!"

Sophie roars into combat, clashing steel against steel. The fight was falling out of her favor; she wasn't fast enough, she wasn't skilled enough. Crowley's blade made contact with her, opening new, but superficial wounds. Each stroke, came with those words.

How could anyone find such words in combat. He was apologizing each time he struck upon her. It was steadily overwhelming.

But the thing that truly became offputting with this man, was the sudden tension that began to yoink at her, through off of her bleeding wounds. The mask's features twisted into anger, and his attacks began to carry true aggression.

It was at this moment, that Sophie began to feel the fear of defeat. But through that, she always saw her ancestors face, Solon. Fear the demons, but never stop fighting them.

"I cannot let you hurt any other person in this manor." Sophie declares, fatigued but resolved. Then she lunges into clash weapons once more.
(Sophie cos Duran)
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[21:53] The jester was finally finding his motivation to actually harm the teenager. His intent had already changed, from deciding to simply beat her, to deciding to harm her, and now... He was ready to do whatever it took. The apologies vanished the more she spoke.

He nearly allowed for her to escape again, if she so wanted. He would have let her go, perhaps. The violin was picked up again, and the cords... Miraculously healed? No- They were never broken, to start. The blade was stained with blood, but soon enough, hers became majority.

She was bleeding, and it wasn't stopping. The way that each slash came to the noble girl was more vicious than the last one, and soon enough the mask returned to what it once was.

With the violin at his hand, he soon enough started to hit her with the instrument itself. The strings resonated at each blow, adding only further to her scars. Soon enough, the jester had her cornered, her blade thrown to the side and the strings continued to play at her wounds, almost as if he was experimenting with something.

"It is a noble sacrifice!" BLAM. "To put yourself in harm's way for others!" BLAM. "IF YOU ASK ME TO DO SO." BLAM. "I SHALL OBLIGE!" BLAM.

"I SEE WHERE THE NAME COMES FROM, NOW!" His delusions continued, as he further cornered her. Closer to the door, before he continued to play. Soon, the hitting of the violin stopped, and he simply started... Actually playing it, but as if it was any ordinary guitar.

But it was erratic. Savage. Disordered. It was everything that could be simply not considered music, but there was a melody hidden underneath, somewhere. Hopefully.

It would give her a lasting headache, and he continued to play. "Be-wa-re. Be-wa-re. The fool tires of the nobles and their court; The jester dances, sings and plays for the king, and receives no praise."

"be prepared, be prepared..." The song was escalating.

He wanted not to kill her. This was the perfect chance for her to escape, perhaps it was on purpose; Or perhaps, he was simply waiting to make her part of a gran finale. Something that would add to the night.
(Crowley)
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[22:11] Sophie had resolved herself not to back down, not while she drew breath. It's easy to draw back in fear to someone like this. A monster. A monster, fully capable of pressing fear into any individual through their strange tendencies, and the way their emotions just suddenly shifted. It was in realizing just how capable of murder they might be, although, in this particular case, Sophie could just feel the drive to torture.

Regardless of how bad each cut was from the jester's fighting style, Sophie sought for an opening. One that she could violently seize and cut through. It never came. She failed to interpret the man's uncanny fighting style, blended with a knife, and an instrument as a weapon. She felt herself steadily slowing through each clash, the wear of her bleeding wounds, taking her stamina and will away with each droplet that hit the floor.

"Y-You... you are twisted." Sophie exhales, her breathing unsteady through the fatigue and the fear, steadily lacing itself into her mind.

The situation played in harmony alongside the twisted tune of Crowley. Under all of that pressure, it was hard to keep control of herself, to allow her fear to run rampant, driving her into something along the lines of her own demise.

It wasn't any specific set of words that ultimately broke Sophie down. It was the steadily applying pressure of Crowley's song, alongside blow after blow. A strike from the dagger, a blow from his violin, brutal, from the impact and the strings, savagely tearing into her skin. It left her tattered, bloodied. Less like a noble, and more like a person who had fought for her life.

Sophie could not do this anymore. The fight had led them close to the door. Her instincts came over all of her drive. To protect, or to survive.

It all concluded, when finally, she realized the hopelessness of the struggle. She ran, adrenaline pushing her through her injuries, dipping through the doorway, and running as fast as she could. Behind her, she could hear the song of Crowley, growing more and more distant.

Beware. Beware.
(Sophie cos Duran)
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[ON THIS PART, SALVATION'S DEATH HAPPENED - I cut it out due to the noise surrounding the scene, focusing on Crowley and Sophie]

[22:38] Perhaps as a distant tip for others, there was something left from the fight between Crowley and Sophie. The noble girl was practically let go, even if she was wounded- Not terribly so, but the impact of these strings would last forever.

An impromptu weapon.

It was soon enough left behind, the bloodied violin. It had made its use, the strings destroyed by the sheer effort of each hit, the instrument made useless through violence.

But there was more to be worried about. Salvation was...

As good as dead, now. They couldn't serve the purposes of the Syndicate, but they had to have the last word. There were no emotions spared, truthfully, with the jester's voice takin on its melodic monotone.

"We are too many, you know."

The jester clapped at her final moments, unfortunate as it was. It was necessary. They would have done the same, if the roles were reversed. Admirable.

The violin was already dropped, but the music stopped. He continued to speak, even if he wasn't any underboss, he had to express himself. What would be the point of the clown if not to force laughter in the face of adversity?

"THIS IS JUST A SAMPLE OF OUR DETERMINATION!" He yelled.

If there was a moment to instill fear, it was now. That they would all be willing to sacrifice themselves for their cause, perhaps would have them thinking.

"Beware, beware."

"Their fate starts a wheel."

"And eventually, you will kneel."

Clowns were not, necessarily, good poets.
(Crowley)

[22:47] Sophie escaped from that madman. Eventually, his song was lost to her ears, but not her mind. It was torture. The wounds she wore burned in rhythm to it, Crowley truly had left his impact in this moment. It hurt too, knowing that she allowed her resolve and will to falter, in knowing that her failure here, could have allowed the syndicate to inch in deeper. But at the very least, becoming an obstacle might've slowed them. It was in that simple knowing, she could still wear herself in some level of dignity as she escaped him.

The battle soon came to a close, where Elijah stood in the center with their leader. In a final act, they end their own lives in a sickly burst of occult, exploding across the room. Sophie barely managed to find cover behind a pillar.

Everything became a hazy mess through that, but eventually, a wounded Sophie finds herself running into Victoria. Safety, for the moment. She just about falls into the woman, but keeps herself standing, breathing heavily. Victoria is able to observe the collection of superficial wounds and bruises Sophie suffered to.
(Sophie cos Duran)
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