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It was an absolute melee. Or, at least, it was now.
He was a bit thin, but muscular just the same, the roundness of his biceps glistening in the heat-induced perspiration that, when subjected to the massive illumination, created a gleam across all the exposed areas of his sun-enhanced skin. He'd've been much more attractive, but the scar daunting the entire left side of his face and the black bandana doing a shabby job of concealing it conveyed the fact that he wasn't exactly a kind of heart type of person.
No need to worry about the thief anymore though, because the second that came along smashed his head with such a force that he was dead before the blood began to pour. The attacker grabbed the first's loot and was through the shattered glass that'd once been a show-window without a second thought or look back. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't vanished into the night, but tonight.. a conflagration blazed so towering that not much was disappearing easily.
It was nearly an entire block that was burning now, the wood frames ablaze as if the fire owned a soul, owned a body in the orange and angry flames, and owned a fury with which to destroy the buildings. Perhaps it did. It raged, pulsating and growing, eating away the structures that had been half-obliterated before the combustion had even commenced. The foundations themselves cracked and shook, and pit the building with a basement--for at least two of those had already collapsed into themselves.
Spare windows and doors bled screaming people into the nighttime streets, the damp air lit with a humidity that mingled sweat with tears. Tears of anger, tears of pain, tears of loss, tears, tears, tears. Pathetic tears. She hadn't time for them.
If she'd been in her right state of mind, she'd have noticed that no one had attempted to stop her. Just as well, because they'd be busy with the line of destruction burning just a block from the docks. The shops had no hope. Death may have lingered there, but she didn't stay to inspect for herself.
The cape was gone, and the fire danced in her eyes, though she'd left the disintegrating shops some time ago. Soon there was a ship flickering with tiny flames, and the crew sadly unawares. It would be dying soon. An explosion in the cabin, and a sudden string of fire climbed the mast with a frightening speed to yield another blow at the crow's nest. An imposing tower it became, of mixing reds and golds, a tinge of blue just at the center of
each little flame, nearly unnoticeable.
The structure didn't stay steady for very long, and soon the protesting creaks and cracks of the ship's inner base released the thing. The image left a trail of light, a trick of the eyes, as it came tumbling down with a thunderous and altogether destructive *crash*, nearly halving the entire boat.
Cries arose from beneath the heating decks.
Almost instantly there was a crowd of people at the docks. Shouts, orders, demands rose from the throng as they milled in crazy confusion. Some were pushed into the waters, others leapt to save the ones that'd been pushed. Yells were muffled as people were trampled--huts were collapsing, merchants' tents suddenly flying off as a wind picked up.
Her fingers still tingled, and little darts of color lingered against the pads of the chilly digits. The wind whipped the tattered cloak, and her hair dipped across the cerulean eyes as they turned to focus on something else; something unharmed, as the chaos rose behind her.
The panther bounded through the darkness toward the flame, past the fleeing people, screaming, screaming.
So many screams and her ears rang with them, mixed with the tolling of the church bells as she had sent Twilight to alert the Sexton and the Good Priest. To open the doors to the wounded and the frenzied.
She moved onward, a dark and lethal shadow. And stopped for Jaysa stood before her. The unmistakable lines of her neice's frame sillohetted against the dancing flames, the girl lost in something. Lost to the danger around her.
Lost to the danger within.
The panther snarled and assumed human form, a lady familiar in these realms now. A woman fell to her knees by the queen, pleading in her hysteria.
"The church madame. Go there," voice soothing and calm. The rains would come soon to douse this, Ariadne in her power would assist if needs be, but for the now she already knew there was no hope of the shops nearest the docks being saved.
Was there salvation for anyone else?
"Jaysa..."
They shared the same lineage, though time and interaction made her power the greater, she knew Jaysa's was no trifle.
She let blood call to blood. A doll child of a sire, a yellow haired brat prince, a dark haired philosopher.
"Remember jaysa...the theater...New Orleans. Fight it. Jaysa.."
An emerald gaze never left her neice, the flames dancing around them, heat searing, smoke clouding her eyes.
"Answer me."
The mare's nostrils were flared wide in gulping breaths of air, its hooves pounding against packed earth even though fear coursed through it. Run away, the instinct said, but his mistress' heels urged him onward and toward the flame.
All ready she was gathering the power within, letting it stir and condense, whispering the words she had learned to encourage it.
The bay mare quivered beneath her, as if the storm she had yet to conjure was already upon them.
~Delius.~
The dragon was coiled on the saddle pommel, eyes shut tight against the speed.
~Of course.~ Words to reeassure the mare were sent, the poor horse endured much for the seeker leader as it was. To ask her to carry sheathed lightning and rain on her back was too much.
The horse barely had time to stop before Ariadne leapt off her back. She could see her highness Samantha in the corner of her eye and the smaller form of the doll-girl they called Jaysa.
The mare bolted as soon as dragon and rider were free and she knew she would find the horse later with little trouble.
"Mik, lend me your voice for this my dear bard," she whispered a plea to her far away husband before she began.
Let the power stir within. Let it spread through your stomach and lungs, make it hard to breath. Feel it move into your neck, warmth in your throat, throbbing in your skull. Will it into your legs, downward, to the souls of your boots, connect with the earth and stiffen when the earth lends its power to your own. Feel it curl upward again, reverberating back within you into your shoulders, elbows, wrists and into your fingertips.
As if of their own volition, her arms raise, crooked at the elbows until they are palm up in front of her. Slowly her fingers extended.
Storm clouds gathered over the ocean, moving in fast toward land.
Her wrists pivot, turning her hands palm down and the wind gusted heavily in response, fanning the flames for a moment.
Ever so slowly she raised her arms, the clouds gathered overhead roiled together in a dark mass that blotted out the moon and stars and rain began to fall.
She felt dimly Delius' tail wrap around her shoulder to lend his own energy to the process.
The rain began to fall harder and harder, pelting the ground in sheets of freezing liquid, drenching all those still out and more importantly quenching the flames.
She did not move for an hour. By then, the flames had ceased into smolder embers and the buildings around were too wet to allow them to catch the fire.
~Ariadne.~
"Mikhail?"
~No Ari, it's Del~
She eased her aching arms down, freezing from the rain, soar from channeling the earth's power and from being so still for so long.
"Sorry friend."
~You miss him. I know. Over, the storm worked~
"Good." She was too tired to use mindspeech and merely allowed him to hover next to her, nose nudging her toward an inn, warmth and a bowl of stew that would restore her energy. "Had to do it. Too much fire. Unnatural, made it harder to douse."
~I know. C'mon. Eat. I know you've got enough coppers now a days to afford a meal and a bed here. Magda has the children.~
She didn't offer any protest and left the vampires to their own battles.
The wind kept blowing. It whistled, it moaned, it frothed about the flames until they themselves withered away to the ashes that took up in the gusts of storm-cooled air. It nudged the empty frames of buildings here and there until they collapsed in on themselves.
Everything was so quiet.
Or was it just quiet in her head? The cape was gone, the cape was there. For a moment she noticed sunlight. A blink brought her back to the grayed skies, a blotch of livid cream color glowing behind the thinning clouds. Sun? No.. moon. No stars. Empty now, no leaping towers of flame. Only the ship had resisted the rain--it's hell had begun below deck, eating towards the rest of its body only after the storn had ended. Pity.
The pale eyelids fell, and, like the lunar body above cloaked in blankets of dark shades, the eyes--a hue of blue that used to be the sky, she hadn't seen that since she was a mortal child--pulsated with color. Dangerous rage, fear.
A shudder passed through the length of her smallish frame, smaller still against the silhouette of the ship enveloped in fire. Jaysa's eyes were upon it, and with each little explosion about the mammoth thing she caused with the suggestion of her mind came another frantic screech. She stared, but she barely saw. She listened, but she barely heard.
Until that voice, soothing as it would have been a few days ago, broke into a most unsteady stream of consciousness in urgent whispers. Whispers? Shouts. Whispers. Silence? Whispers.
"The church madame. Go there."
Jaysa wasn't speaking to herself really, or anyone else for that matter, and her words came out in a breath so low that her aunt may have missed them, even with the acuity of her vampiric ears. "No.. don't go there.. he wants the church next.."
She was soaked. Her hair was a wavy wet collection of multiple shades, still streaked with that hideous silver, and a tiny droplet of the salty and altogether sweet rainwater clung to one strand 'til losing balance. It fell to her nose and slid down along her cheek, touching the corner of parted lips, and finally releasing itself from her chin.
Quietly her body shivered, for her body was cold, but nothing of that sort of feeling registered in her mind. The ship burned brightly.
"Jaysa..."
Jaysa. Who was that? Why, that's me silly. No, can't be, you're not Jaysa, you're a god. A god, yes. A god named Jaysa. Jaysa nothing, Jaysa died. Why did Jaysa sound so incredibly familiar? Name of a victim? It's you..
Her ears perked and she made the movement of a half-turn, not all the way, unsure and unstable. Power was collecting in her hands, it was urging her to be let out. Please, please.. ignore the voice, burn..
"Remember Jaysa...the theater...New Orleans. Fight it. Jaysa.."
The girl stumbled, nearly fell. The words catapulted memories into her brain that she hadn't thought of for decades. Her sire, dancing in the darkness. Looks of surprise, the little gifts from her new father. A kiss on the forehead, "Shh, my little doll children.." But it was so empty. She was watching a play that she was no part of. But that was her up in the spotlight.. no.. just
another girl..
Jaysa unconsciously shook her head. It wouldn't clear, if that had been her intention. She was just a host now, useless otherwise, and the heat was growing in her hands.
"Answer me."
The madness switched in her head and took hold of her response for a moment. "This is your answer, Lady Samantha, dearest of all queens."
With that, the doll puppet's hand lashed out. There was nothing sent out, but a panicky woman hurrying in the insanity and simply burst into flames. There was a minimal scream, but she went down writhing and twisting. How strangely beautiful.
The madness had calmed. No longer it joked and prodded and riddled. No, now it furied and festered and plotted.
Short circuit and Jaysa's eyes filled with blood. The tears coursed along her cheeks, one at a time and only four. "Aunt Sam," came the whisper, inaudible to anyone but who it was meant for. "Dying.. he wants the church, I can't figh--"
A sharp switch of her head to the side released a loud crack, and she was silent. Jaysa slowly turned her gaze to the woman standing there, her dark hair flowing. Their eyes locked temporarily, and suddenly after a cold, empty glance, she was gone.
This is your answer, Lady Samantha, dearest of all queens."...
"Aunt Sam," came the whisper, inaudible to anyone but who it was meant for. "Dying.. he wants the church, I can't figh--"
As much as her sense of honor longed her to save the flame engulfed and dieing woman, she could only focus her energies on one.
And Jaysa was that one.
This young girl, whom had waltzed into the Theatre Des Vampyres with little heed and a wide grin and held blood that made her true family as well as family in honor and vow.
She remembered a child vampire with blond curls, this one's sire. She remembered the sire of that child abomination, her own father. Her dark haired philosopher. She owed it to them at least.
A purposeful stride, another, a pale hand seemingly made of porcelain but strong as marble or granite, clamping onto her neice's shoulder.
Emerald gaze locked, unobscured for this once, by dark waves of hair. She performed a power she rarely used save with her husband and her dearest friend.
A simple twist of the mind, an alteration of the thought pattern, and she slipped into Jaysa's head.
Confronted by that chaos... the vampiress merely smiled coldly. It was time to drag her neice out of this mess.
There was a slight pain in her left shoulder as her aunt latched a porcelain hand on, and the face of the doll winced. The pair of burning green eyes were piercing, made her want to cry by the very glare by which they found her tattered soul.
Another twitch pulsated a shudder throughout her shivering form -- it had gotten so cold, and the drizzle was like pin pricks against one's skin; had this demon reduced her to that much of a mortal again? -- when Samantha slid her way into Jaysa's mind.
Bad idea.
A ruckous started, and a trickle-parade of blood slipped across her bottom lip. A battle purged thereafter, and it was only in between ivory flashes that she perceived it.
Dizziness, white.. a sharp pain in her head, her aunt's voice.. white.. an overwhelming sense of power swelling within her, but not her own.. white.. another overwhelming sense of power sweelling within her.. this time her own (or was it really hers..?).. white.. it controlled her, rather than she controlling it.. two entities were fighting.. white.. searing pain.. the feel of something beneath her hand.. white.. momentary sensibility made her realize that every brunt of the battle was being taken by her body, instead of the thing inside her.. white.. not good..
When everything stopped whirling, the only command her body was following was "go" -- and she was, quickly. Jaysa was moving away, perhaps towards the cathedral, perhaps towards the Raven. The last thing she really saw--not that it registered in her mind--was blood.. but whose it was.. she wasn't really sure..
When everything stopped whirling, the only command her body was following was "go" -- and she was, quickly. Jaysa was moving away, perhaps towards the cathedral, perhaps towards the Raven. The last thing she really saw--not that it registered in her mind--was blood.. but whose it was.. she wasn't really sure..
She knelt on the ground, breath coming in great gasps more to calm herself than for the actual need for oxygen.
Chaos...pain...white blinding pain...chaos and noise and fire...
"OUT OF MY HEAD!" She screamed suddenly and the turmoil ceased, squashed under the force of her commands to her own thoughts. She rose slowly, pausing to lick along her forearm much like a cat would. The wound, three deep gouges from Jaysa's nails in the encounter, faded away. She winced.
"Won't hold that against you cherie.."
She turned, melting back into the panther form she'd learned to control and sniffed the air. The scents of burnt timber and smoke and flesh obscured the trail for a moment and then she followed.
A mental battle had not worked to free her niece. If she had to rent the demon in this realm and others, she would help to end this.
Jaysa was family.