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[P]  Cloud Skaters

Offline Asa May 16 2020, 8:07 PM
#1
  • Dorsum
  • Age: 27
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Knight
  • Total Posts: 24
  • Played by: Day
180 Mana · View All Items?
From beneath the cloud cover a flock of starlings burst, then, seeing Sullivan, change course and flutter away. The thin clouds had covered the view of the sea not long ago, like a blanket — the condensation sitting above it as the cool night swept over the remnants of a warm day. Now there’s something coming through them, towards Sullivan. There’s the beat of wings, larger, much larger than a bird. First there’s a shadow, then there’s a form — long, spear-like horn, the head of a horse, followed by the rest of it — and upon its back a woman. They burst from the cloud as if it were water, some of it clinging to the alicorn’s roan blue wings. Over its neck is a sealed-in candle to light its path. It spreads its wings wide to stop its momentum, hovering in place momentarily, then turns its head to fix a stare at the two of them. The rider on its back removes something from her eyes. A pair of goggles, or something like it.

She could hardly believe it, seeing a fellow alicorn-rider here in the skies above A’Took Bay. Asa takes a moment to stare. So does Valkon, sounding off a nicker as if in greeting. A Giruvagan…must be. Seeing one of her countrymen doesn’t fill Asa with familiarity, however. She hadn’t found much camaraderie in the vikings — from early on they’d labeled her strange, the situation exacerbated being human in a primarily eximius land. Asa grips the spear in her hand, the tip glimmering in the sunset.

“Thought I saw something overhead,” she says. “I’ll have you know I’m guarding these skies.”

She would have let the figure above the clouds go — but, observing it, it had seemed to circle around them like a vulture. Her escort had requested she go up to check it out. He was a nervous man. A merchant, not a fighter, and he’d precious cargo to protect at that. Everyone was already on edge sailing through these waters, knowing that there were pirates and Khogate about…though they’d seen nothing yet, nothing at all. In fact, sailing had been so smooth that Asa could hardly believe she and Valkon were being paid a small fortune to enjoy a nice boat ride from and back to Marshmoor.

Although, that could all change, now. Unpredictable, Giruvagans were. Asa was a nobody and surely her scalp wasn’t worth taking, but there were some on the islands who would kill for the sake of it. Unable to hover for long, Valkon circles around Sullivan and her steed. “Must ask you move along marm.”

She had too sweet a voice to be ordering anyone, really, though she tried to manipulate into something resembling authority.
Offline Sullivan May 16 2020, 9:00 PM
#2
  • Giruvaga
  • Age: 33
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank:
  • Total Posts: 28
  • Played by: Onii
315 Mana · View All Items?
The reignless thunderbird ripped through the sky in accordance to how the firebrand shifted in his weighty saddle. With a single scarred hand wrapped underneath a sturdy leather strap attached to his breast collar and the other drifting openly in the wind at her side, the woman leaned as though they were on the track, eyes impassioned for the path ahead as though it had been her own wings on either side of them. Merlot turned on a dime with a lurch or fan of his wings, his many sets of hooves slicing through clouds as though they were made of steel.

War had kept them weaving the skies, a learned trait to keep the masses guessing, and unable to strike them down. Long after they'd quieted the arrows, long after the battlefield was allowed to forget the d e b r i s strewn across it, the hardened pair hadn't completely redistributed their energy to other things. That much had been clear to any who came across them, their eyes helplessly drifting to the slew of weapons tethered or holstered into the saddle on either side; throwing axes, long blades and a cruel poleax. A woman with an armory at her fingertips was not to be trusted, but even less to be trusted was a woman riddled with shameless scars down her face, her fingers dented by teeth marks of desperate quarry.

Even in Giruvaga she'd been considered an outsider--not that she had done anything to change that thus far, geographically settling herself a ways away from the bustle of the nearest village. Still, they'd known well enough that a tyrant rested in their woods, and more importantly a Ballasburnaan warlord who'd once led an absolute waste to the older militias of Vanderal, before they'd become an established Giruvaga. But they did not bother her, and she did not bother them.
Redemption was not something she was looking for. What she wanted was inconsequential--there were only the facts for her to contend with at the end of the day.
Severin knew that, though...and yet, in as foolish a manner as always, he kept the line of contact open knowing full well that, as promised, she would kill him if he became an issue.

A moment with nothing in her ear but the rush of wind and scenery had done her temper some good. But the moment she spotted shapes not of nature, the visible embolden of the red glow of her eyes was indicative of what she must have felt. "Rasta. Mindful" the hard boom of the sleipnir's voice thundered in her head just as their pairs of eyes locked on their company. Sullivan saw no banner, no familiarity in shape or behavior: if approached in a manner she did not approve, she would handle it as desired. After all, that was what made her a successful tyrant, and that was what made her a fruitful, disastrous enemy to have.

Sullivan only needs to lessen her grip on the leather strap for Merlot to feel it the same as a loud and clear command, and gradually he slows with the slow easing of her hand until he is keeping them in one place. They allow their onlooker to circle, each of their heads working in different directions to keep them in sight. Sullivan sits up in her saddle as though she's on a throne, hands free and able, shoulders back and chin level with her jawline. She swivels at her hips, turning in her saddle to keep an eye on them if needed. “Must ask you move along marm.” Sullivan did not see nation, but one thing she saw incredibly clear, as the world had once known, was r a c e. And with a sudden quirk of her weighty brow, The Brass Hammer speaks. As always her voice is loud without being raised, booming and accented with lingering Portuguese undertones. "...whose skies are these, girl? And where are the rest of Dorsum's Finest? ...the f o o l that runs this place has not advanced far enough to properly police the airspace." A single Human would not cut it for the woman who laid waste to them as though it were a hit of cocaine. "I would be careful with that spear, brandishing it before you know your company. You will be asked to walk with your words if you spew them so certainly." Put your money where your mouth is, Hume.
Offline Asa May 17 2020, 11:03 AM
#3
  • Dorsum
  • Age: 27
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Knight
  • Total Posts: 24
  • Played by: Day
180 Mana · View All Items?
She looked a Giruvagan alright. She was bristling with weapons. Even her alicorn looks war-hardened, whereas Valkon had a graceful frame to him, like a goose to a swan. Sullivan talks like a viking, too, of course; silly of her to think any of them could manage any sort of pleasant exchange. Asa’s brows furrow. “Dorsum? How do you know our banner?”

By our she meant the merchant vessel below. There were still things that denoted Asa’s origins: the armor she wore, hardened leather on metal, the patterns of her waistbelt, all things common in the viking isles. She’d her shining spear, a short sword strapped to the saddle, and a wooden shield, emblazoned with patterns on its face. Still rather untested by the looks of it. It was polished wood with hardly a mar.

“Not watching us are you?” She didn’t address the ‘fool’ bit. She wasn’t sure if that was just a political opinion or a personal one. These waters (and airspace as the case might be) were contested enough that a myriad of vessels sailed it. “Right. Won’t have to brandish my spear should you move on. And quietly! If you will. I’ll escort you.”

Valkon swoops about them. Air battle was a dangerous and exhilarating experience. So much depended on speed in the air that it was enough for Asa to think she had a chance — after all, she’d been tested on Valkon’s wings before. The alicorn didn’t speak much to her directly (and when he did, it was a complete surprise), preferring to communicate in visual and feeling. Yet now there was no reckless abandon coming from him here. Above the clouds Valkon was usually full of confidence. Whatever look he’d given Merlot, head turned to the side, was enough to fill him with doubt.

Asa tries to send him an answer. They were gainfully employed and one step down from a soldier of Dorsum now. They must carry themselves with authority. “I’ve unseated your kind before.”
Offline Sullivan Jun 30 2020, 4:30 PM
#4
  • Giruvaga
  • Age: 33
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank:
  • Total Posts: 28
  • Played by: Onii
315 Mana · View All Items?
Her station was deceiving, and Sullivan seldom spoke of her accord. Words were useless in that regard; to decide what story should be told, half truths and poor representation. Those who recognized her famed red eyes and the constellation of scars was mixed, and she did not go around educating those who were not familiar enough of the impeached Human hunter. In many people's defense, she did not move or speak like the queens you would expect in a station of Ballasburn of all places. A bold vagrant or a viking by birth certainly, but a woman who owned gilded halls with a long step and spoke to many from a balcony? Looking like this, speaking like this? Her definition of diplomacy was always unexpected of her station, but...at the very least, it removed all doubt of her intentions.

This was no different. “Dorsum? How do you know our banner?” Sullivan cackles at that. To be clearer, they say Sullivan's laugh has been lost somewhere on a battlefield long ago, or smothered deep beneath the flamebrand's rage. This certainly was not its revival. Instead, it was a sharp noise, a single and intentional "HA" that by definition was laughter, showcasing amusement, but in all other aspects was n o t. Sullivan was certainly harsh, and her humor at cost to others could be overpowering, but through it all if questions were asked they tended to get some form of an answer. "Do you think Dorsum is some small inside joke? A JOKE yes, but, it is not a small one. I may be from the moon and still know it." She assumed the woman was either heavily sheltered to the point where she was unaware just how internationally integral Dorsum had been as an agricultural giant, or the alternative...she assumed an Eximius too primitive to know that.

“Not watching us are you?” A soft breath--as if anything soft could be attributed to her--exited at that, and a mild-mannered shake of her head followed. Pitying maybe, or writing the woman off as the mad one between them. "There is nothing worth the time to watch--" a pause punctuates that idea as she intentionally takes the moment to search the woman up and down as she swivels in her saddle to keep an eye on mount and rider, "--certainly not here." She was a Human. And despite how Sullivan had surely seen rather worthy ones before, suitable in their skin and bone, this one spoke many things and backed not a one. A trade in the skies like this would certainly not be the most treacherous thing The Brass Hammer has done recently, that much was clear. Even then, times were..different. She had once chased war with abandon, to sate the fire that was consistently melting her throat, pushing her to act it out with a cut of an ax. Starting the trouble herself just to eradicate as much as she could before she fell. Absolution, a phoenix reborn but by pure rage.

Now, she could pass by strangers without beelining for them. And she could ignore Humans well enough that no one left missing an arm. The wildfires had gone, but an ember DID remain. And at a time like this, where SHE was the one goaded...perhaps, a teaching moment. “Right. Won’t have to brandish my spear should you move on. And quietly! If you will. I’ll escort you.” It was bold, but if Sullivan took words at face value she'd still be hobbled up somewhere, under a man's thumb. Kept under control by threats and promises, fearful to tread. By lines on the ground they swore would kill her to cross, when in fact it was just red tape meant to be snapped. For a time, Sullivan was quiet. When she spoke, it was rhetorical, and she would respond to no answer the Human might give. "..You assume I do not belong here, or that I am not a requested guest, or that I am not merely returning home. Is it because my clothes don't fit your ideals? My manner of speaking, too foreign for you? ..or the way my eyes glow?" It was rhetorical, because Sullivan had already decided what the woman's reasoning was. Discrimination was punished by majority genocide once, and the victor of that debate was seated before the Human woman. That sentiment seemed to bolden Merlot, whose eyes were now like steel. Invested in the heat that traveled just slightly through the brass of his saddle. An intentional cue by the firebrand who burned just a little hotter. So it was war, then, and he was well seasoned for it.

“I’ve unseated your kind before.” That statement was enough for her. "Then come!" she says shortly, the words clipped and quick as she swivels over and pulls free the reliable silver poleax with a skilled toss and reclaim in her scarred palm, "Unseat me just the same." With a hand roped tightly under a leather strap for balance, Sullivan loosed herself to the whip of Merlot's form as he burst up from his place, streaking through the sky like a bolt of lightning. With her weapon brandished, sharp as a razor, the Eximius allowed herself to swerve and bow with her mount's movements, fluid like the air cutting around him. Up into the clouds with a start, veering with a hard beat of his wings until they were barreling back into the fray, head on and with the large sleipnir striking out with a maelstrom of silver hooves. Valkon's face, his neck, his sides or his wings, maybe even the rider herself--anything they could catch was the target just as they'd landed and pinned many skulls before--harsh, and mean. Whereas the woman tended to aim between the rider's eyes, Merlot was incredibly vicious to their mounts, snapping wings in his jaws and tossing them like trash. Now, placed before another of his rare breed it may have seemed traitorous, like self-hate, cruel and senseless, but Merlot claimed no state save the firebrand's. The beast before them was smart, aware enough the same as he and so, naturally, the ignorance was considered intentional. For that, the threat of wounding or worse.

_______________


Attack: Alicorn (4th paragraph) -> Asa/Valkon
Buff: +3 Attack (Alicorn)
Offline Asa Jul 3 2020, 2:38 PM
#5
  • Dorsum
  • Age: 27
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Knight
  • Total Posts: 24
  • Played by: Day
180 Mana · View All Items?
Buff: +3 Alicorn

Asa could tell this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped. She began to suspect it as soon as the stranger refused to be herded out of the air-space above the merchant vessel. In fact, there was a dangerous glint in her eye, visible from here, thanks to the way the eximius’ eye shone. The quality of her short laugh is startling, short and violent. “Well, I see no reason you’d belong here,” she responds, defensive. “Won’t stop you from getting home so long as you don’t make a fuss. I did warn you!” Maybe, at some point at learning the job, Asa might learn which sort of persuasion worked with what: when to push, when to speak gently, even when to back down. As it was, she expected an unreasonable amount of people to respect her newly anointed authority…to mixed results. Yet few such instances would backfire so spectacularly as this one.

At her next threat the eximius brandished the silver glint of her weapon and shot towards her. Valkon whinnied, moving out of her trajectory; at first they thought she had missed, but the airborne warrior’s black shape swoops about the clouds — coming back at her with the speed of a meteor. Asa has enough time to raise the round shield strapped to her arm.

The impact came heavy in a flurry of wings and teeth. A hoof lands upon Valkon’s chest and shoulder. Asa has scarcely heard him squeal so, the pitch of his whinny becoming frantic and pained. The number of the other alicorn’s limbs far outnumbered Valkon’s, and one of them come ringing against Asa’s shield. It rings in the air, like metal-on-metal, and though she is spared the brunt the force of it sent reverberations through her bone and flesh. Shards of wood splinter into the air.

Valkon’s own hooves come up to push the bigger alicorn frantically away. Like two birds clashing, their wings beat against each other as Asa struggles to get a good grasp on her spear…yet the balance teeters backwards, almost threatening to cast her off Valkon’s back if her feet weren’t hooked to stirrup. Somehow, Valkon manages to distance himself from Sullivan and Merlot. He bleeds somewhere; Asa can see droplets glimmer briefly in the setting sun, and some of it dash across Merlot’s hooves.

“Valkon!” she calls. Before she can muster up a response to the attack, though, the alicorn begins to pull them both down.

Asa knows the beginning of a dive when she sees it. Her gut starts to rise up to her throat. The wind whistles past her ears. It’s all she can do to hold on as Valkon sends them both down to the water in a nearly perpendicular angle — she cannot speak nor see, first through the tears (she’d not the time to put the goggles over her eyes — and then the much more frightening “gray out” of her eyes as blood rises to her head. Clouds rush past them. As they break through the bottom, they part, some of it clinging to wing and hoof ’til they disperse into the open air. Asa holds on with her thigh and hand. Her teeth grit. Just before it seems as if they’d break the surface of the sea, Valkon fans his wings wide in a gust of wind and sea-foam, skirting over the top of it like a water-bug; wherever they went seawater lifted behind them in a trail of droplets.

It takes a few seconds before her eyes clear; shaking her head, she can see the merchant vessel some distance away, no doubt watching over the board. “I told you to warn me before you did that!”

No response from him, just a turn-about of his surprisingly flexible neck to look behind him. Startled, Valkon lets out another distressed whinny; when she turns to look, too, Asa can see why: their pursuers hot on their trail. She feels fear, yet still her sense of duty is present. “We should face them,” she tells him desperately — but she knows when Valkon’s panicked. Instead, his horn glows. In a desperate bid to get them off their tail, he urges the sea to rise.

Underneath Merlot and Sullivan the water disturbs. Tendrils of it fling up from under them to lash at them like short-lived whips to hopefully impact them, perhaps imbalance the two and fling them into the water.
Offline Sullivan Jul 4 2020, 1:33 AM
#6
  • Giruvaga
  • Age: 33
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank:
  • Total Posts: 28
  • Played by: Onii
315 Mana · View All Items?
War comprised of both fire and sky.
They spoke of the black beauty she rode on, The Brass Hammer and the titan said to have a streak as mean as hers. They pondered if it was learned, taught to a tiny colt before he could be snatched away by a kinder hand and given a "more suitable" life.
But that wasn't the case. And as they traded in the air, the mounted woman took a backseat to the sleipnir who struck their foes--and most specifically the winged one--with a genuine rage in his large eyes. There was no manufactured behavior, no trained response.

Blood splattered through their exchange, the shrill sound of the other alicorn a joyous sound that pulled Merlot's ears forward like he'd heard the pour of oats. It meant it worked. And more importantly it meant he felt it. Whether or not he would be crippled for long, the trade would be traumatic, a scar to last longer than the ones he stomped into the younger one's flesh and bone. It was as brutal an attack as he could manage at this angle, though he'd undoubtedly have done more if he could manage it. Soon they were gone, plunging like fallen angels, leaving in their wake splatter of blood and raining splinters.

There was a moment of silence between them, but only for a second. One waited for the other with bated breath, and with the hug of her heels the alicorn flicked his hooves in anticipation and dove through the hole in the sky their adversaries had left behind.
It was a dangerous lesson to learn for certain. How many other Humans had learned this exact lesson by her hands, swiftly and mercilessly, to be paraded on spikes for remind others of their ilk? And to think she had once been there, a child of Dorsum, with ambition as high as the sky to become a healer, navigating her immunosuppression with the company of the horses her father bred for their nation...to exist now, in a new climate, where a foolish girl would suggest she did not belong?
True enough, she supposed. Dorsum was cut from the same cloth as Svalbard and, eventually, no matter how Severin Faelfur..Sev, would try to become something more than the Forseigns, Dorsum too would eventually fall.
With people like these protecting it, even if it wasn't her, someone would make sure it fell.

But for now, just the girl.

Merlot folded his wings tight in the dive, tucking his shoulders and streamlining his form as they hurtled through the trail their adversaries had left behind in their plummet. All without care to the woman who lowered with him like a racer on the track, huddling down into the saddle with shut eyes and long, calmed breaths. Enough trust and familiarity to his aerial gambits even in the breakneck pace of war, the rumble of wind in her ears that rung them reminiscent of the sounds of war they'd once flown into many times. When he broke the fall it was with a strong pelt of his large wings against the sky, a semi-smooth segue of perpendicular to obtuse and then finally parallel, coasting the high winds with a fanned out wingspan. The pause gave Sullivan enough time to right herself in her saddle and adjust her eyes and ears to the lower altitude, and though her left ear had yet to adjust to the hard dive, it would in time and she was largely disoriented by its loss. Merlot kept them well in his sights and, once Sullivan forcefully straightened in her seat, off they went with a burst of wind left in their wake.

"Where is your valor, Girl!" Sullivan further cheapened their cowardice with the boom of her voice that carried high as they gave chase. They had a bit of distance to catch up on, but every second turned up an inch or two of profit. Sullivan had throwing weapons with her, and once they were well in range the Eximius wouldn't mind potentially losing one to the sea below if it had even a small chance of hitting its mark...and perhaps taking it off. Merlot was driven by the scent of blood that snaked across the sky like a perfume or a trail of candy, his breaths hard beneath the beat of his wings and the swing of his hooves.
The chase wouldn't last for long, however. Merlot had felt the tug before Sullivan had seen it, and her nerves jumped as he suddenly lurched back, flipping his large wings up in a way that let the air currents catch beneath and draw them upwards in a stall. He had tried a shorthand reverse, blasting his wings against the plume of hot air, but the rise of the ocean had soon separated their sight of the target and, eventually, separated them from their place in the sky.

Sullivan had not dropped her poleax, and in so doing one of the tendrils hit her at her armed side and flung her without resistance off to her other side. Her grip on the leather strap was infallible, but after a moment of dangling off the side of the sleipnir who'd begun heavily sacrificing his stability for the sake of not clipping her head with his wing or hooves, she strategically she gave herself to the maelstrom waiting below. Water greeted her descent, rising up as she went down, her eyes stinging with salt as she slipped through half air, half sea. The mixture lashed at her clothes and face, the furs wrapped at her neck, her hair that whipped and whistled. Limp, always limp when you fell, lest the sea's impact shatter you like glass.

She broke the surface, but it did NOT break her. The glint of her poleax was all she could focus on as she raised it above her like a flag, bright and visible. And soon, as she expected, she felt the waves singing around her as though something large had made it all move. The skies curled above the firebrand as she shifted in her visceral state of calm, the long poleax tucked close to her body as she waded to the almost-black surface. She could practically feel the salt all around her vibrating with superconductivity. A humming response to the arcs of lightning that were being called to act as long range retribution, and the muffled whinny of a mad horse left barely aloft.
For the one who'd done it specifically, may the sky strike his wings and give him, too, to the sea with a show.

_______________



Attack: Alicorn Electrokinesis (7th paragraph) -> Valkon
Buff: +3 Attack (Alicorn)
Offline Asa Jul 4 2020, 5:06 PM
#7
  • Dorsum
  • Age: 27
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Human
  • Rank: Knight
  • Total Posts: 24
  • Played by: Day
180 Mana · View All Items?
Valkon only rarely spoke to her. When he did, it was in a young man’s voice, lightly brushing against hers. He sensed the built-up static before she did. Shield! he said.

It wasn’t her wooden shield she held up (battered now, some of the wood stripped away). Before the bolt of lightning crashes into her in the blink of an eye, it hits a seemingly invisible wall and sends sparks flying into the air. A blue ward briefly shines over alicorn and rider. Then, just as quickly as it’d hit, the lightning is sent backwards in brilliant arcing motions. Some of it skirts the seawater like skipping stones; other fingers streak out into the open air — and some blast out close to Sullivan and Merlot in a dangerous mixture of electricity and water, helpfully guided by Sullivan’s poleax. Steam rises up from the surface of the water. Asa can’t tell if the rider has been hit or not; the burst of fog is enough to shield the alicorn from view, but she knows he is still at large, and can see a vague shape of his large wings beating.

Valkon swirls over the ocean in a graceful loop. At last he turns to face them, hovering some yards above the scene now. Both of them watch with bated breath. As if the thought suddenly occurs to her, Asa reaches down to plop the goggles over her eyes. Her spear was still in her hand. She tucks it against her body as she’d been taught, bracing it for impact. Beyond them she suddenly realizes the merchant ship had garnered an audience…she could see some of them standing near the bow, watching and waving their hands.

Valkon nickers, still sounding nervous. His front is battered and bruised. Luckily the heavy hooves have avoided his face, but he is bleeding from several cuts down his neck and chest.

“Hello?” Asa calls, nearly a demand, into the fading steam-cloud.

After a beat she brandishes her spear. Its point glints in the setting sun. “You ought to give up now,” she says. “…You’re dismounted.”

What if she were drowning? Asa thought. She peers between Valkon’s ears. She didn’t exactly want to kill her adversary, even now — she’d rather the war-like eximius and her mount be quietly on their way. She didn’t know how that had become such a tall order. Still under the effects of adrenaline, and barely covering the shakiness of her voice, Asa calls again. “Surrender and we’ll let you alone!”
Offline Sullivan Jul 4 2020, 7:44 PM
#8
  • Giruvaga
  • Age: 33
  • Gender: Female
  • Race: Eximius
  • Rank:
  • Total Posts: 28
  • Played by: Onii
315 Mana · View All Items?
They spoke of her like a scourge, and they were right to do so. Never had there been a greater dichotomy than one's right hand, who scooped the fearful, kindred child in a close embrace, while their left hand massacred scores of foes.

But, it was fitting of a machine. They'd made her this way and she had dedicated every ounce of time she had making sure they regretted the very moment. The very moment they'd made her, and the very moment they'd made others. Rather, the very moment they'd ripped them from their homes, their own people, their own children, through no manner of consent, only to grant them a life of discrimination and banishment. She'd wanted the man's head who'd done it, and she'd worked tireless to trigger events that had gotten her exactly that.

Still..the job wasn't over. Because her heart was still beating, the job wasn't over. And as it kicked against the cold sea, throttled by the Pyromanic fire in her chest, she was suitably warm. The ocean, as it touched her, bubbled and warmed. In the interim, she did not worry herself for Merlot's sake. Many times they'd been separated many times this way, one left to the sky and the other plummeting to the earth. Lost for days, at times, hacking their respective ways through the battlefield in different manners. Sullivan would be grounded, but not downed. She knew that he was gone, but he would be close enough to hear the boom of her voice when it came time for whatever she needed of him. To be glued to hip meant there was but ONE enemy, and it seemed the young adversaries had mishandled whatever training in that they'd been given as mount and rider.

She didn't need to swim very far. She could well have, but she chose to stand instead. And to do this, she called the ocean beneath her.
Their songs were piercing, eluding to their want to find her, to embrace her as though one of their own. They spoke back and forth in the Eximius' headspace--friendly words, appreciation and idle chatter--things you would not expect from a woman prepared for the next step.

The bottoms of her feet soon met solid "ground" that pushed until she was crouching, rising effortlessly with a large form that betrayed its agility.
Whales. Large ones, lending the unperturbed warrior a stance fitting of her. The surface shattered around her, her eyes burning like live coals.
Dismounted? Sullivan looked idly about her feet and the bumpy, textured head of the whale beneath her sturdy footing. "Hardly, Girl."

“Surrender and we’ll let you alone!” it was defiant, almost brave, had it not proven to be so conditional. Conditional to when she had what she THOUGHT was the high ground, the advantage, the everything she needed to put a warrior in her place as though this would end with a punch and a shout. Sullivan, true to her nature, makes sure her adversary knows exactly what she'd done wrong. "Imagine, an existence of comfort where you think the fight ends here, that your opponent does not fight ready to die..." Humans were that way, Humans were the ones whose highlight of their careers were tavern brawls and fighting the suitor their partner's kept on the side. For Eximius? Especially of those who'd come from the labs same as her...not so.
Imagine, having the capacity to surrender.

She was aware of the vessel nearby. Unfortunately, the tyrant was aware of the vessel nearby. With a slow raise of two fingers, Sullivan shoveled them between her full lips and let out a hard, piercing whistle that carried. A hard beat of wings had soon sounded, and while it may have been assumed to be an effort to pack themselves up and move leave, Sullivan was never so simple as that. If she could clearly see the pair as they claimed the sky above her, she therefore made sure they saw her burning eyes staring back at them, refusing to leave even as she spoke. "Merlot! After many years since Svalbard has fallen, manners and equality is lost on the majority still. So..." A short pause before the command, "Destroy the ones she chose to endanger." He'd known it was coming, and they'd be able to practically feel the boom of his large wings as he tore in direction of the unarmed and damned. The dark angel naturally struck fear in them such that they screamed when he descended, singed by lightning but certainly healthy enough to crush their skulls. The unfamiliar face of the beast was alight with ire and nothing like the kinder alicorn they'd likely seen hurtling through the sky protecting them, his shrill cries saturated in anger. He was vicious, spiteful, and hungry. "I suggest you do something about that!" She says, "Some lessons come in the most painful extremes. Perhaps he wants an apology!"

Sullivan reserved honor for those who deserved it. Humans, and as this one had reinforced, deserved none. For all the fearlessness in her words, the way she spoke of the state of things and the way things must be done, a fool would stereotype her as someone who would not, and has not, splintered in the doors of village homes, taking stock of the Human heads--man, woman, child as well--and making sure every one of them was slain. There was no Human she would not kill, armed or unarmed, grown or infant. That was what it meant to be a machine, and especially one with something to remind her creators of.
You fucked up.



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Attack: N/A just attackin ppl, sinkin a ship
Buff: +3 Attack (Alicorn)