[GM PRP] Effect and Cause (EXIT PAGE 2!)

[Zoobey]

Ever since the Lost Clans had been thoroughly grounded, the constrained lands given to them by the Halloween City Hall had seemed almost too small, too confined. Several of the Lost Clans seemed to wander listlessly around, as if continuously searching for something while others mysteriously disappeared for hours, days at a time and returned without a single word.

And still there was no sign of Medea.

It remained like this for a few days more, the tent oddly vacant, no flicker of any flame or burning pyre in sight-

- Until exactly on this very moment when someone stood in front of the tent, a tent that now emitted a familiar fragrance. A simple Death Guardian, clad in nondescript greys, guarded the Head Priestess's abode, her stance unmoving. Occasionally, she turned to look at a few horsemen passing by, but otherwise remained silent. Just a quick glance at one person, again at another, as if judging them.

kurotomato

Nerpin

Ol-J-man

keiifuu

Random Artist

Your presence is mandatory!

x_Nata_x

Optional, if you want to bring in a Heir!

demon_pachabel

Optional, if you want to bring in a Heir!

Grey Dragon

Optional, if you want to bring in a Heir!

 

[demon_pachabel]

There was something empty about the priestess not being present. It wasn't that Invictus missed her, but perhaps that she served a good unifying purpose to those who were present in the lands who needed more than just the heirs.

So when the flickering of lights returned to her tent, Invictus made a point to go and investigate, pausing outside of the flaps to give the Guardian standing outside a look that was just as judging.

Or shaming.

It would be a stare-off.  

[kuropeco]

He was not entirely stable, nor was his mind entirely at ease (it never would be, he knew), but Mengyao Miao was taking a walk to attempt to clear his head anyway. It would do little good; nothing in this world had managed to give him any sort of peace, and the only source of distraction he had given into only went so far.

He was already at the bottom of this darkness; how much further would he be able to sink?

Their so-called "priestess" had also gone missing, not that this was particularly surprising. It both annoyed and frustrated Mengyao that Medea had disappeared, but he hardly was stunned by this turn of events. She was not exactly as trustworthy as she made herself out to be, and Mengyao only blamed himself now for the recent events that had transpired, as he had allowed himself to fall into her trap. And for days it had been like stuck, like time was not moving, and the air was stale.

Until now.

Mengyao walked silently along the paths laid out on the land in front of him, his eyes narrowed slightly at the figure in front of the tent. He did not recognize the horsewoman, which made her presence all the more suspicious, and he slowed his steps enough to give her a slightly closer look, standing several feet away, his gaze fixed.

Is time moving again? he wondered, absently sliding one hand into the sleeve of his other.

Or am I still stuck in this place?  

[keiifuu]

Senga had been meditating.

That, in of itself was a blessing, considering his recent... hardships. So of course, when he was continuously interrupted by wing-flaps overhead and voices calling up into the canopy for him to come down and be social, he began to grow irritated. If one were putting his slow-changing disposition over the hours lightly. Finally, Senga gave up once someone actually hurled a sharp object in his direction, flattening his entire upper body against the branch he was perched on like a startled cat to dodge said projectile and completely ruining whatever meditative exercise he'd been in the middle of.

Scowling, Senga allowed himself to drop, wings spreading at the last minute to catch him from plummeting to an unfortunate end.

And then he wandered.

It was a familiar pastime - pacing the edges of the unseen cage. Senga narrowed his eyes as he continued mapping the area, stopping once in awhile for brief conversation or passing hello's by fellow clansmen. The voices sighed and clicked in his head, rumbling angrily at the continued absence of violence and chaos. Senga shook them away, his wings ruffling in minute displeasure. He almost considered going off to find someone to spar or someone to help, before his attention caught in a flash of dark color in the corner of his eye.

He paused at the small crowd gathering outside of Medea's tent (she was missing again, go figure) and frowned. He was beginning to tire of the Priestess's continued absences after being the reason for their new lockdown, and prowled over, his tawny wings fluttering gently to announce his presence. He did not recognize the woman standing watch in front of the tent, even though he acknowledged Mengyao, Invictus, and Lifen with a slight tilt of his head.

What new mystery was here for them to solve today?  

[medigel]

Shaheen had the hut--shack really now that they were cut off from the Lair--to herself for a few days. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Shik to suddenly go off on his own; he had done so when in need of retreat even back when he was just a colt. What was different this time was that he did not return home but rather slept in the trees along the edges the Boogeymen patrolled: isolated, lost in thought, and training when not at rest. The sight of the listless Lost Clans brought low by a nuisance of a patrol sickened him in ways he did not know could irritate him. They were not just Halloween, they were Horsemen, the true harvesters of Fear and heralds of the end of days that were supposed to be soon to come . . . That was how they used to be, not delinquents sat in the corner until they learned their lesson.

It wasn't just the mayor and his attack dogs that bothered the executioner, however. Medea was at the center of his thoughts as well.

For a high priestess, she did well. Shik had heard her say something about collecting things back at that hellhole in the human world, which insinuated she had another grand scheme up her sleeve. But her habit of disappearing was beginning to grate on him which, in tandem with his frustration at this practically castrating power hold the Clans, made for a rising temper he didn't bother holding back. In almost every regard, a victory for them ended up being mostly hollow. At best, the return of those who had been lost to the phoenix had bolstered their numbers and led to an increase in Fear gathering, but that had been made a moot point ever since the shadowlings had invaded. What next, he thought wryly, were they going to be on another mad hunt for something Medea wanted only to have that snatched form them as well? He was a Horsemen, not a gelding, not a scavenger for scraps of Fear, and most certainly not one who played nice with authority if he felt like just a chesspiece: he was ill-equipped, thinly patient, and thoroughly done with disguise and indirect tactics. He did not want to participate in another mockery of a human herd, did not want to sit on his a** and wait for the next mission for everyone to leap upon, and most of all did not want to lose again.

Blood. That was what he wanted to taste. And he wanted to hear screams, wanted to feel the tear of flesh, the snap of bones, the shriek of confused humans at war as he picked them off one by one, delicious and slow and the only thing he would ever be willingly methodical about. If he could do nothing about the corruption that tainted Senga and Shaheen and others of their kin, then Shik wanted at least vent it in some sort of destruction.

And he was going to get it one way or another.

Without warning the executioner's eyes snapped open from the hours long meditation he had set himself in, nostrils flared and jaw clenched, and took off from his perch in search of the tent. Perhaps he could shred it with his dagger and see how the high priestess liked his (admittedly childish but hopefully satisfying) rebellion -

- only to find that a small group had already gathered. Those of Conquest he recognized, Invictus by name, the others from missions prior; he could also guess at who Lifen was since Shaheen had described her to him once. Senga was a welcome addition, but there was no cocky jibe waiting his fellow War-Brother this time: just a stiff brush of feathers as Shik landed, a grunt, and an exasperated glare aimed before him.

He did not wait. He was tired of waiting. He was housing a need for chaos and vindication and action in a land of aimlessly wandering horsemen, and nothing would stop him except force. Shik eyed the wafting smoke of incense, an image so familiar it incensed his temper further, pun unintended. "This is horseshit," he growled, and stormed his way forward towards the tent and its guardian, wings bristling and puffed out. Every intent was to pass her or, if necessary, fight his way in. He would welcome a cut or two to remind himself he was still alive.  

[revenant aria]

"Watch where you tread with those words." A scythe formed in front of Shik, as the Protector of Death suddenly appeared on the scene. It wasn't clear if Aisa recognized the horsemen in front, although one could accurately guess she did not, from the way she gave no recognition to the mysterious clan member. But fellow death members were closer to Aisa's heart than most, freely giving exception to the unknown figure.

"Do not press your luck .. or else, you may have none left."

Her words were chilled, the immense frustration and murderous intent rolling off Aisa's being, as the scythe pressed dangerously close to Shik's neck. Many horsemen were frustrated with the situation, if not dangerously close to decimating it, Aisa being no exception.

But that didn't mean that Medea's precious place could be casually entered.

Ol-j-man

 

[Grey Dragon]

Wandering off for days. Yes, that was what the Famine Heir had been doing. Freedom, it could have been, as freedom could be in heavy chains rattling like bones through her body. She hadn't realized at first it had been a search. Bringing back pieces here and there like carrion birds returning to the nest with the choicest scraps of something that had once been life. A plant that reminded her of dry winds and an unyielding sun. Soil as sandy as the desert she had once run through, barefoot and laughing. They plucked memories from the swirl of Insanity in her mind, bringing them to the forefront for her to mull over and toy with like a child holding a new toy.

Perhaps she was merely lost, in a place not even her dearest siblings could follow. She did not know what it was she wanted or hoped to find, or even whether she wanted or hoped at all. It was purely nonsense. Everything was nonsense, and Cymbeline cared not a whit to make sense of any of it.

Now, a near hermit in her own herd, the Protector strode casually towards the tent. And flopped over her sibling's shoulder with a familiarity only herself and her sisters could show. "Pesty~" She crooned in his ear.

demon_pachabel

 

[demon_pachabel]

It seemed that he had company, and Invictus inclined his head ever so slightly to Lifen when she took a place at his side. As silent of greeting back as she gave. After all, it was not his place to start small talk.

Especially not when one of this three favorite distractions decided to throw herself over his shoulders."Cymbeline." he murmured back to her affectionately, placing one of his hands over the famine heirs', leaning his head against hers. "Did you come to see what the vultures are gathering about?" he asked, purposely using a bird that seemed a bit in her cuckoo's nest to make the analogy.

Yet it seemed not just they two had made an appearance, as Aisa - treading on the edge of volatile, though he did not blame her, as they all were - made her steely presence known. The conquest heir also extended a hand to her, "Aisa." A greeting in an of it's turn. He did not expect her to take his hand - it was simply one of the few silent gestures of affection that he actually had for those that recognized them.

Grey Dragon

Random Artist

 

[Grey Dragon]

"Yesss~" Cymbeline singsonged. "Who died?"

Her immediate grin was feral, perhaps she had been going a little stir-crazy after so much leeway to shed hunter blood. This quiet life did not suit her. Traveling twisted roads in her mind merely led her in circles, so tangled up she may not have even realized her dear Pesty had been speaking in metaphor. They all were vultures now, picking away at scraps, feathers darkened with filth.

She reached out a hand to Asia in mimicry of the Conquest Heir, and giggled. King vulture, and his Queen vultures.

demon_pachabel

Random Artist

 

[revenant aria]

"Certainly not Death," Aisa's simmering anger tucked under the rare pleasure of seeing Connie and Cym, responding to Cymbeline's misunderstood question. Cymbeline always misunderstood yet she understood far better than the rest ever did. In ways that Aisa's cognitive abilities could seldom keep up with, Cymbeline's way was just so very Cym. Nevertheless, she enjoyed such peculiarities. The scythe extended, never moving from it's position but it's length allowed Aisa to take a brief step forward towards Connie and Cymbeline.

"Ever more by the day, aren't we?"

Whether she was referring to insanity, a common assumption or something else that the Protectors knew, was left to them.

She interlaced her fingers with Connie's small ones, the other with Cym's bony ones, in a brief manner, releasing at soon as the intimate action occured. Instead of addressing them, she pressed a kiss to both of their cheeks, her red skirts wrapping around her legs as she spun towards Cym after Connie's greeting. Shik was not forgotten, simply eclipsed by the other rarely-seen Protectors.

The Protectors didn't encourage meaningless company, they simply gathered when necessary.

Necessary times were rare times.

grey dragon

demon_pachabel

Ol-j-man

SORRY FOR ADVANCE POST, aisa was too happy to see the heirs, icly and oocly ok ;u;

 

[demon_pachabel]

"You now who will, soon." he replied to Cymbeline's question, but seemed to smile none the less at the brief moments of contact with the Death Heiress, returning a kiss to her cheek as well (perhaps because she moved so fast, GDI Aisa).

Though it was true that gatherings of all four of the Heirs was becoming exceedingly rare. A shame, really, but like Aisa - it was always nice to see everybody.

Grey Dragon

Random Artist

 

[x_Nata_x]

"Please do not threaten those of my clan, Sweetling."

A short distance away, the Protector of War extended her wings, stepping off a nearby limb to glide back to the ground, her bare feet coming to rest quietly against the grass. Tucking her wings back against her body, Eris sauntered lazily towards the group which had begun to accumulate, her body posture inviting no hostility, but there was a certain razor's edge to the gold color of her eyes, a sharpness which suggested she was not entirely pleased with the situation. Stopping quite close to the other Protectors, she offered Aisa an affectionate smile, dipping her head respectfully to Death's Heir, although her hand came to rest on Shik's shoulder, perhaps a little possessively.

"If they are being rude to Yours, I will speak with them," she continued in a gentle, good-natured tone, her voice light, like the gentle crackling of embers in a fire.

Glancing over at Invictus and Cymbeline, her lips curled a little further to deepen the smile, her free hand reaching to brush the backs of her fingers against their arms, polite but affectionate. "Meus, the days have been long~" she offered, clearly saddened that they had not seen each other in quite some time, "I hope they have found you well."

Random Artist

Demon_Pachabel

Grey Dragon

Ol-j-man

 

[demon_pachabel]

And then all the Heirs made out  

[medigel]

He would have kept going if there had been only words; the aura of steel by his neck was what stopped him.

And even then Shik had combated with himself over defying the Heir just for the fact that it would have made a scene. Ruffled some feathers. Add color to an otherwise gray and frustrating world: a beautiful, beautiful red. His wings remained bristled as he stared at Aisa even as her attention went elsewhere, the cords of his neck tightening. He ought to. He ought to rebel anyway, go out burning because that was the only way he would ever allow himself to end. But clarity as cold as the Heir of Death's weapon hit him and, temper stymied, he simply exhaled a bullish snort and stepped back. Like a colt testing the boundaries set by his parents, he had the sense to withdraw and the knowledge that he needed to be stronger before he could truly cause a ruckus.

Eris's hand had been a polite gesture, and he was glad she had arrived more than he cared to admit . . . but he wondered sometimes if she would choose them over her own Clan in the end.

Shik's wings flared once with a rustle before folding back. "There is nothing to discuss," he said petulantly. "I was being rude to no-one."

Random Artist

ur good bby~

x_Nata_x

o u o