There ain't no rest for the wicked, Invite Only

[-Dory]

((Floating Angels --Kidneythieves))

The highest peak of the highest building just so happened to be the temple's bell tower. Underneath of the bell's massive dome and above the clapper, a woman slept soundly with both legs curled against her stomach and arms carelessly splayed over her wings; wrapped in slowly writhing wires of silver and gold, like spider silk, pressed securely against her skin. If the sleeper knew she'd been webbed, she gave no indication of it-- or much of anything else, though the expression stuck on her face was a mix of childish malcontent, and eerie peace. Her hair had changed entirely, from gold to a deep chestnut brown; and a corite ring embossed with silver still swung from the awkward arc of her neck, but Xanthe slept like the dead.

And her aura had changed. While it was still recognizable as her own, it seemed that she had been washed clean of every taint. To a looking psychic, her very presence might have been blinding-- like an ever burning spark of magnesium only amplified by a thin veil of forbidding fog; a fog which read, clearly: "This is mine, Keep the fuck out."

It was to that mist that she had lost her mind; and as her body stayed, abandoned, in the confines of metal that she couldn't hope to control, she dreamed.

She dreampt of a woman she'd never seen. Tragedy, she'd been called; though her name itself had been lost unto time-- forsaken for the girl Amitiel harbored now, and lenient to the name of her self-entitled successor.

Rhiannon stood behind her, hands gripping at the leather trench strapped to the nines with weaponry of every shape and size, but she was otherwise eerily unaffected. She was old enough to understand the peril before them, and how it had come to be; though how it had all crashed down upon them at once was beyond understanding at any age. Nevertheless, her big brown eyes peered toward the gathered crowd serenely, as though the devils at her doorstep had merely come for tea; and even in her youth, she was the beacon of faith it was said she'd been born to become.

"Give us the girl," Grunted the closest of them, a burly demonic man wielding an axe as large as she was, "And no one else has to get hurt."

She'd expected some fear in these moments, some sense of trepidation; but now that the time came, she could find none. The road had been a long one, but all in all she'd had a good run; and she could feel that her purpose had been served. It was Rhi's face to fill her minds eye, now; and hope that wouldn't be realized for millenia to come. There was a strange beauty to it, this desolate, timeless promise the pair had forged between clasped hands; and she had known from the beginning that she wouldn't survive. This-- these streets her hands had paved with blood, these coming ages of struggle and rebirth, the light of compassion which she preserved-- this was worth it all; and she reveled despite her despair.

She gave her murderers a soft smile, brushing her younger sister's hands away as she pulled the dual crossbows from her hips and the armies around her readied their arms in kind.

They were surrounded on all sides, city streets packed for miles with armed angelkin and demonkin alike; and the edges of the dream trembled with strain as the world itself seemed to draw to a pause.

"Viva Nectara!" The words split through her mind like a hot knife through butter, and the dream surged too tangibly against her. "Viva the Gods and Goddesses of our own making!"

And she was struck down without ever firing a shot.

And she was suspended within her own mind again; breath shallow as she slept.

[-Roush]

There was light, and a lifting feeling. It faded just as soon as it appeared, leaving the assassin to his dark sleep.

A second light pierced his mind, and images began to flow around him.

"Is this a dream?"

He couldn't speak, not even within his own mind. His thoughts were simple and pure. Clean. Clear. As inward as one could imagine.

The images formed into memories, a sort of elegant slideshow, crafted by angels. It must have been; nothing else could be so pure.

He had seen these before. They were in his own mind, though set off externally. Then he put the pieces together. Xanthe.

His eyes snapped open as the earth collapsed in on him violently. His will failed him as he tried to push upward, but the element that was usually his greatest ally seemed to betray him. He started to panic, thinking it was a nightmare.

Of course he couldn't 'panic' per say, due to the locks in place in his mind.

He had to get a grip before he suffocated or was crushed to death. The earth was not dry, after all. A heavy rainfall had saturated the soil, making it half liquid. It pooled around his face, restricting his breath.

He stopped for just a moment, relaxing his arms...

"Push."

Earth erupted around him, violently being thrown in every direction. He could feel himself falling as even the earth below him was swept away by the whirlwind of will that formed a deep crater in the city, the soggy earth rolling over many of the buildings surrounding him.

Part of the crater extended to what used to be the docks, and sea water rushed into the void. Roush was barely standing by the time the wall of water reached him. He extended his left hand weakly, but the effect was extreme. The water split suddenly... But not because of the air.

"What's this?"

Roush could feel... The water. Not the air.

He hadn't noticed at first; his 'vision' hadn't been effected much; between the dust and the humidity, no detail was lost. It was different, though. More splotchy.

It rose around him, spiraling into a sort of hollow pillar that kept the rest of the water from hitting him. With a sudden snap of his hands, the pillar expanded as it froze into a solid sheet of ice.

"Well, this is interesting."

The light was suddenly back. It spiraled in his head, flashing Xanthe's memories through his mind yet again, reminding him of what had awoken him in the first place.


"What have you gotten yourself into now, Falcon?"

The water condensed around him, adding a layer of ice to his armor.


_______________________________________________________________



The 4 thin ice/earthen arms extended from under Roush's like a spider's. They stuck into the sides of the building, drawing him upwards at a steady pace. His movements were slower now, more deliberate. They had to be; he couldn't just charge in anymore like he could when he was a flier.

The arms pulled him over the edge of the bell tower, setting him down quietly as he looked at what had to be Xanthe.

This time he actually -looked- as his earthen visor lifted, revealing healed eyes. He would only use them when he truly needed to, since he spent so much of his life blind anyway. He had met a rather odd Altmer mage on the way who had healed his eyes without his permission. He wanted to beat the man, but he knew he could hardly be so brutal when the person was just trying to help.

The water froze over his back, interlocking with the mineral plates of salt that separated from the water, giving his armor a blue and white look.

He took a knee in front of her, just outside of the ribbons of gold and silver. She was angelic.

"Xanthe."
His voice was soft. Different. More... flowing.

Then a whisper...

"Viva Nectara..."

As more flashes ran through his mind.

So much had changed since he lit her that cigarette.

[-Dory]

((Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites-- Skrillex))

Xanthe.

Her name permeated and saturated the haze. Xanthe, until there was nothing else to hear, and she was all that remained. Xanthe!

"Wake up, Xanthe, Wake up. You have to wake up!"

She opened her eyes to find a pair of familiar big brown ones not inches from her own. They simply stared for a long moment, as though trying to tell her something there were no words to express, but a smile broke in to their depths and Dorine straightened to pull her hair in to a high ponytail.

"You have to wake up." She spoke as the child angel looked beyond her to a room she knew well.

"But I am awake." She argued, watching the young woman turn away, and skip toward a crude wooden table laden with vials, candles, skulls, and cards.

"Why do you fight me?" Lifting one of the vials, she inspected the brightly colored contents for a moment before she replaced it in it's stand, and peered thoughtfully at the layout of cards instead. "You've tried just as hard as any of us. Arguably harder; so why do you fight me, now?"

"But I--" Xanthe tried to rise, but it was to no avail. Her body simply wouldn't answer the impulse, wouldn't budge.

"You have to wake up."

But she was so tired, and afraid; and there was no way she could have planned this.

"You have to wake up."

But she didn't know what to do.

"You just have to wake up."

Her body was moving before she found her way back to it; descending gracefully as the wires, so very gingerly, deposited her safely upon the tower's floor before they spun to wrap around her limbs individually. By the time her eyes opened, blearily, to register that the first time she had woken had been a dream; they had settled and smoothed in to the armor they once had been. She didn't try to tap in to the metal, well aware that it was outside of her control; but did investigate the lines of pinpricks marking both of her wrists before she pushed herself on to her knees and noticed, a bit late, that she wasn't alone.

"Roush?" What in the hell was he doing there? And why was he kneeling? And where was she?

Oh yeah. She'd lost control of her metal-- and then her mind; and the result... well she still wasn't quite sure what the result was; but this was embarassing.

"Goddamnit, get up." Pushing on her knees, she tried to force herself to take her own advice, to no avail. Her legs were numb, still tingling; and through the spaces in her armor, she could see that her pants had been stained with blood. She groaned, dreading what she might find under the fabric and resisting the urge to rip it away to look as she fell back, and on to her ass.

"We don't have much time." If Roush was here, Faerie' must have been dead; and if Faerie' was dead, Freya had seen the same devotion she had. By now, she was probably half way to Ascantha, and pissed-- nap time was over. Now if only her legs would get the message.

[-Roush]

Images kept flowing gently through his mind, though they seemed to roll slower and slower as he could feel her returning to consciousness.

"You have to wake up."
Another whisper. This one got a response.

He couldn't help but to reach out and grab her arm as she fell backwards. Lightly, of course. He also couldn't help but to shuffle through her abilities and traits, grabbing onto a very unfamiliar alchemy; metal.

"I know. But something's changed. With both us us."

He looked down to his armor, gazing at the thick plates of salt and ice layering over the earthen sheet below.

"I'm not windbow anymore. And you're..."

He helped her up slowly, nearly forcing her to take her time and get her bearings.

"Something else."

She was... Clean? It was difficult to express. She even smelled different.

The metal twisted around him as well, responding to the unintentional control that seemed to pour over into him for her. She was feeling something similar to what he had earlier...

"I... Felt it. Just felt like I should be here. Not much more to say. We can start moving as soon as you get a grip on..."

He looked her up and down, examining some of the changes that seemed to permeate her entire being.

"Whatever this is."

Start moving... That was a nice way to say 'lock yourself in a room with the most vicious, powerful threat to the world today'. Of course, Roush wasn't afraid. He couldn't be. He looked forward to it, actually. Anticipation, after all.

[-Dory]

Xanthe stared at him as though he was insane, cerulean gaze flashing toward her armor as it seemed to decide that she could get up-- she was just going to do it slowly-- and then furiously back toward Roush as her shoulderguards melted away, and over their connection to add themselves to his armor.

Get a grip on this-- he was fucking kidding, right?

She tried. She tried like hell to pull the metal back, but it was to no avail.

She tried to slap the shit out of him for simply letting it flow over him; but her gauntlet decided not to move.

She tried to jerk out of his grip, but her breastplate decided not to move.

She tried to knee him in the balls and make him step away, but her greeves decided not to move.

His grip wasn't really the problem anyway; she'd been warned, and apparently it was just fine for Roush to take over, but she didn't get the liberty.

"OH WHAT IN THE HELL?!?!" And all at once, the yelling started with a vengeance. "SONOVABITCH!!!" The bell above her ripped itself to ribbons, and crashed outwards through the glass before it plummeted down and in to the edges of the tower-- and exploded outward again. "WHO IN THE -FUCK---" With substantial difficulty, she managed to cross her arms over her chest as the ribbons of metal spun furiously around her. "--DO I KILL FOR THIS?!" From below, it might have looked an awful lot like an iron halo; but from where she was standing, she just couldn't make them destroy enough fast enough. She lifted a hand to point at Roush, and then the orbiting metal as she managed a furious step toward it-- and then threw both hands up in the air, cause that was as far as she was getting. "--Damnit, NO!"

Didn't make sense. Didn't need to make sense. What fury the Aesir had gotten out of her was nothing-- this was cataclysmic; and she couldn't get much clearer.

"-FUCK-!" The planks of metal molded crudely together, in to thirteen massive shivv's, which she then shoved repeatedly in to the tower underneath of her. "FUCK FUCK FUCK--" She paused to search Roush's face for some recognition of the severity of the situation, "FUCK!"

And stopped. Took in a deep breath. Plunged the massive shivvs in to the crumbling tower again, and left them there.

"SHITFUCK, as a matter of FUCKING fact."

Tried to tap in to the armor again, but there was still no response. With a deep sigh, she found herself able to brush the hair out of her face, and cast her eyes out over the city in seething silence. It didn't last long.

"This doesn't happen, Roush; this isn't how it goes." Apparently the armor thought it was a good idea to get off of the crumbling tower. It probably was, but she was stubborn, and though the metal tried to move, she quite simply did not. "I'm the fucking Silver Falcon-- 'Child that never was', for the love of--"

She growled. That one was going to be tricky.

"Point is, I -kill- Gods; I don't... I don't..." The armor was stubborn, too; and there were so many eyes on her. She pinched the space between her own. Everything.

"Sonovabitch." She shook her head, trembling as her hands balled in to fists at her sides, "Fine." and she made a compromise.

The metal beneath them flattened out and in to massive tarot cards-- nothing overwelmingly stable, but enough to end the threat of crumbling before an escape was comfortably made. The designs looking up at them were 'sketched', a vague imprint of the ones she had seen on Dorine's table. Amitiel?

"So-- SONOVABITCH!" Off on to a tangent again, as the card faces violently wiped clear. "I AM NOT-- I WILL NOT--" There wasn't enough stuff to yell at, so she yelled at the air, sky, whatever. "PAIN IN THE FUCKING -ASS-!" Didn't matter. She wasn't quite finishing curses before she started the next anyway; so looking sane might have been just a bit beyond her. "-NO- RIGHT--" And it wasn't like it was just the one behind the armor, "Ohhh HELL NO!" Or like they weren't fucking -everywhere-.

And Amitiel was involved somehow. She growled, reined her temper in. Fine.

"But it's still fucking cheating."

[-Roush]

Roush released Xanthe as soon as she was able to stand on her own, stepping back quickly as the metal swirled around him. It wasn't much different then earth alchemy, really. Smoother.

He didn't interrupt, and kept his energy out of anything metallic that made itself known to him. He had to do one thing, though.

"Repel."

He spoke in a low tone of voice, but it was enough. The metal storm curved around him instead of smacking him in the face, otherwise following Xanthe's lead. Or rather, whatever was moving the metal. Perhaps her will was shoring itself up for something.

"I wouldn't know who to kill. Maybe it's the same person who robbed me of air alchemy and gave me water instead."

The tower churned itself, made mostly of earthen material. It twisted slightly, securing itself around the metal spikes. Roush couldn't fly anymore, so he couldn't go falling great distances.

He turned on his heel and looked over the city, wondering if any such settlements would be left when all of this was over, or if they would all look like Nazca. Charred memories.

Most of what Xanthe said, he didn't understand, but that was par for the course. She didn't know what happened, but somehow her angelic nature had burst through whatever barriers she had and made itself known.

"For an angel, you sure have a potty mouth."

He smirked, a tinge of happiness running through his mind. The emotions he did have were punctuated by the times of emptiness in between the feelings. There was no 'regular' for him anymore. Just vacancy.

Happiness, guilt, and anticipation. Thats what he had. And he held on to them for dear life.

[-Dory]

Potty mouth? He really was insane.

And he was pissing her off.

What made him so sure that he was safe? What was the happiness running across his face? He had failed-- drowned in the superficial as though she'd never even tried to teach him how to swim.

And in the space between...

"Goddamnit..."

And was it time for a demonstration? It was only the armor, she couldn't tap in to-- the rest of her alchemy was in top condition. Fuck divine intervention; she didn't need to move, to kill.

"Find your own way there." She snapped, and found the vice loosening to return her range of movement. As though to punctuate the point, the cards ripped (yet again) from the tower below, and she turned-- broke in to a sprint-- and took wing.

The metal followed her; an orb of spinning, morphing debris; and for a moment she simply hovered, looked.

Before it all imploded against her.

((Xanthe out))

[-Roush]

Roush chuckled as Xanthe rushed off. The tower stayed stationary, although such a thing should have been impossible. He held it up, reworking some of it so that it wouldn't collapse after he left.

He stayed still for a minute, looking over the city, enjoying what might have been the last peaceful moment of his life. He closed his eyes as the visor slid down over his face, taking a deep breathe of fresh air.

He began walking forward, his body changing into solid steel as he did. He reached the end of the tower, and let himself fall.

Crashing hard of the ground but feeling no pain, he walked on towards Ascantha. He would get there himself, yes. Hopefully Xanthe would be somewhat reasonable when he arrived; she was becoming more and more unstable since the mention of Asphodel. If she didn't get a grip on herself, Adrianna would surely win. Hell, Xanthe was already half beaten. And Roush wasn't sure he wanted to take on that fight, at least not directly.

Time would tell. Right now, the concern was Caspian.

Roush disappeared from the back alleys of Alegrarse in a flash of white light.

((Roush out.))