rift hoop practice

[19:31] Noel Serpente says, "Now then."
[19:43] Far above the clouds, the welcoming cold that the winds of the Tarians were keen on blowing had been their grandest greeting upon their short hike far above Garljing's Coat.

Armed with knowledge and a plan, Noel huffs a short set of instructions to Ysorra, keen on unveiling some form of plan in her practice.

"Alright," she puffs. "I say we need space because we're going to be doing somethin'... sorta dangerous. I figured you knew that though, right?" Simple rhetorics.

A few humble steps bring the two, finally, to a stable plateau; high enough that nothing of immediate danger would implode around the vicinity of the Ebonblooded tower.

Her hands fish out a familiar tome, one brimming with an unprecedented magic; as if being within the aura of the thing almost feels as if it were sapping the very metaphysical essence around it.

"Today... I need help practicing on rifts," she reveals. "And, in fact, I asked you because I think you might have somethin' to get out of this too..."
(Noel Serpente)
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[19:49] It had been too long since Ysorra had ventured this high up the mountain. Sienna hues idly flick around the somewhat familiar surroundings. Soaking in the cold mountain air, before shifting his attention over towards Noel.

"When you said hijinks I assumed it was something dangerous." Arms slowly fold across his chest, as they arrive at a rather stable looking plateau. "So, yeah. I knew that!"

Not that something being dangerous had ever stopped him from doing it. This would be exception.

Out comes the tome, and with it Ysorra's gaze shifts into a slight squint. He's seen it before, obviously, but something about it seemed different now. It was brimming with an unfamiliar power.

Rifts.

"Oh." With his head tilting to the side, his gaze would flick around the mountain tops once more. Yup, that explained why they needed this much open space. "Sure. I'm willing to help. I don't really know what I'll have to gain from it, buuuuut-"

Shoulders roll into a shrug.

"I guess I'm willing to find out."
(Ysorra Olberic)
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[19:58] Of course, never was the Serpente one to follow the trail of an uneventful practice. Perhaps its why her own smithing process was a treat to watch; or so she was told at least.

"Well, knowing what you've always wanted before having a fish girlfriend, I think you'll like this," she hums.

A finger moves to tap upon Dechsia, a smile curling up from her lips in pursuit of the motion. "Someone else helped me with all this before," she reveals. "He has the current record for the most rifts gone through in helping me practice. Twenty three rifts, that's how many he flew through before we yielded."

The small hinting factors had been unveiled. Only upon the final revelation that leaves Noel at a sigh. "It's a shame he's dead now. Your brother can't protect his record anymore."

Was it perhaps a bluff? One that would instill a most willing set of handsin her practice? Or had Rakhan actually dangerously flown through twenty three rifts from a beginning Riftmancer willingly?

Hard to tell, Noel seemed somewhat convincing.
(Noel Serpente)
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[20:05] Its almost instantaneous, but the mere mention of his brother's name causes his lips to curl into scowl.

"He's dead." He states aloud, entire body trembling, yet the question remains! Was it anger causing it, or something else entirely. "He should just be forgotten about already."

Even now he still couldn't escape him.

'You never escaped anything, Sora. Your blood is mine. You will always be... my little brother.'

His brother's final words echo throughout his mind for a few moments, until the shaking comes to a halt. Inhale. Exhale. One deep breath after the other, as he seems to compose himself.

"Pleh. I can beat his record easily." Was he back to normal...? One can only hope. "Just start whenever you're ready."

A bit of calisthenics follows, as readies himself to jump through some rifts.

"Because I'm good to go."

Another chance to prove himself Rakhan's superior.
(Ysorra Olberic)
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[20:15] Perhaps this had been something she expected. Instilling competition, despite the unhealthy circumstances that it ended in. She had a hand in it in the beginning, and it seems to remain that way until the end.

"I thought you'd say that," she answers. At the very least, this should assure a lack of recklessness, or so she hoped. "Give me a moment and I'll give you the signal."

Stepping back, she allows for a proper space for the drakanite to lift off as her focus fell upon the timebound tome.

Before it, the requisite chants and the visuals of the runes were clear as day. With enough focus and backreading, attempts at rifts could be made.

It was all a matter of keeping them up long enough to safely traverse.

"When you see the green puffs of wind, fly for them and I'll open the rifts as you're about to hit it." A dangerous game, one she had hoped he would willingly play with her.

With the thumbs up from Ysorra, the Forgemaster begins her channeling. Around them, space contorts. The very fabric of reality bends as the uneasy screech of the Lifestream unveils upon small pittering tuffs of green energy within the air.

One by one, the beads of riftmancy unveil pathways unavailable to many. It was only a matter of flying through them that was integral.
(Noel Serpente)
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[20:22] It wouldn't be the first time his toxic relationship with his now deceased brother had been taken advantage of. This was just another instance of it. It likely wouldn't be the last time too.

Tragic.

As he awaits the signal, Ysorra finds himself vacantly staring off into the distance his mind racing, as he began to vividly recall that battle. Each action that had led to his brother's downfall.

Until a shadowy claw bisected him in two.

Then the signal was given, or well more accurately Noel spoke to him, and he's snapped out of his trance. Were those a few tears rolling down his cheek..? Surely not.

Right?

If they were his hand swiftly wiped them away, as he offers a nod towards the Serpente.

"Alright. This should be easy." A thumbs up is given, as the sound of the Lifestream wailing in agony reaches his ears. Yup, that could only mean one thing. It was time to begin. "Showtime."

Without a second thought he luges towards the nearest puff of green wind, shadows clinging to his frame as he does so. Just to make certain he's moving fast enough for it.
(Ysorra Olberic)
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[20:31] Perhaps, if she were any less distracted on focusing on the task at hand, she might have noted down the reaction. Instead, she were far more enthused at keeping everything right, down to the T.

After all, this was at the expense of the drakanite's safety mostly. Surely she can't go about half-assing something that dangerous.

With such out of the way, the brunt of the spell begins.

With her free hand, Noel pivots a motion over to the nearest tuff of green; one Ysorra had begin to glide toward. A moment's pause leaves her as she takes a momentary deep breath.

Her fist clenches as, just as Ysorra were about to crash into it, she rips the very essence of the Lifestream and sunders a path. Very last minute would the harrowing door open as a second one appears a few feet parallel to it.

How Ysorra emerges from the first rift will likely dictate exactly how well this little activity will go, or so the timekeeper decreed as such.
(Noel Serpente)
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[20:44] It's close.

Perhaps a bit too close for comfort, but his path doesn't waver in the slightest. This was another chance to prove himself better than Rakhan- Oh, and yeah. He had the utmost amount of faith in Noel. Mhm, that was the real reason behind his lack of hesitation.

Mhm. Mhm.

Thankfully his faith wasn't misplaced! A rift is torn open in the nick of time, and Ysorra soars right on through it.

And out the other end of the other!

With... A few cuts that weren't present before, and a horrible case of nausea. Which is rectified a few moments later as he leans over to vomit. It's pretty gross!

Wow!

"Pleh." He mutters, wiping some of the mess from his lips, as he glances back over towards Noel. "I can keep going."
(Ysorra Olberic)
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[20:58] "Hmmmm. Interestin'," she mutters below her breath, the drakanite leaving pilfered bile in his wake as Noel could merely wince. Was that was rift does to a person?

Perhaps this explains why the Achyonite they had found in the bunker had reacted poorly to one of Noel's rifts.

"Uuuuuuh," she hums, blinking. "If you're sure."

Had the willingness she instilled in him be too far? Or mayhaps this was merely just the opening jitters. Only one way to find out.

On would they continue, the next rift mark being set nearby as Noel allows swift passage for Ysorra to emerge unscathed, well, physically at least.

The barrage to keep up with the unrelenting drakanite is met with equal fervor. Mostly for the fact that if anything messes up, the blame likely might have gone to her.

And yet... he would do it. despite the stressed sweat beads upon the countenance of the Forgemaster, she would unleash and allow the proper avenues for Ysorra to surpass the 'record' of his brother.

More than what she had expected in actuality.

Soon, the tiresome droll of the whims of space begin to toll upon Noel, momentarily calling for a pause on the fortieth rift; a powerful record.
(Noel Serpente)
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[21:12] "I'm positive."

The very moment the second rift opened up, he'd bound towards it with reckless abandon. A goal had been placed within his mind, and he'd be damned if he didn't see it through until completion.

Rift, after rift.

His pacing is only halted as the nausea induced from traversing through the rifts reaches unbearable levels. He'd simply vomit onto the snow once more, before picking back up where he left off.

One after another.

He wouldn't let up. No he couldn't let up. Every fiber of his being was screaming out for rest, for reprise, but he refused to relent. His purpose had been made clear.

He had a record to break.

"How many.." He'd mutter between labored breaths. "How many did we get to?" It seems Noel had run out of juice, and seeing as he hadn't even bothered to keep count himself.

He had to ask.

Oh, and of course he falls over onto his knees, gasping for air.

"Did I win?"
(Ysorra Olberic)
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Noel Serpente generated a random number between 1 and 50, it came up as: 40
[21:37] Had she been anymore weak-willed, she might have stopped sooner after seeing the whites of the snow turn into a disgusting green.

But of course, Noel was no wuss. And it seems so was Ysorra.

On would they push and continuing would the Therian vie to keep up the rifts, one after the other.

The toll of exhaustion was creeping ever so slightly into view.

Any more later and she might have been far too exhausted to even keep a rift open for long enough. But then again, such proved to her where her limits truly were; and somehow, it were not the twenty three she had foreseen.

Long past twenty three, Noel at this point had lost count.

Deep pants escape her as Ysorra continues to soar. No amount of vomit could seem to stop him, needing Noel to eventually cease the conjuration of the portals for him to yield.

"Guh," she huffs, her book drifting to the side as both hands clutch her knees as she attempts to catch her breath. The hungering siphoning aura of the book paired with instilling her own mana into the rifts had clearly taken a toll on her.

Only upon the muttering of Ysorra's voice would Noel slowly creep her head up to face him.

"Uuuuh," she pauses for but a moment, replying with, "Forty." Likely a good enough estimate and approximation. She had not been counting herself, but she seemed very sound by the number decided by her.

"You... beat his record, almost doubt it too," she huffs before returning to her upright posture. "But holy shit, that was tirin'."
(Noel Serpente)
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[21:44] His body was screaming out in agony, but he had won. All of the exertion had been worth it. Once again he had proven himself his brother's superior. Its only then that his brother's words echoed throughout his mind once more.

'You never escaped anything, Sora. Your blood is mine. You will always be... my little brother.'

His eyes almost immediately widen in horror. He was right. Of course he was right. Killing him solved nothing. He was still-

He would always be.

Rakhan's brother.

"No.." The first no is quiet, barely above a whisper. The next few are even quieter. "FUCK." He roars out at last, rising to his feet. Only for his legs to buckle out from underneath him mere moments later.

"Pleh."

Even in death, his brother still had his hold over him. A grip that wouldn't lesson no matter how much time passed.

This was his curse.

"Bah..." A deep breath follows, as he does his best to compose himself, but he's a mess. Both physically, and emotionally. "Lets head home, Noel."
(Ysorra Olberic)