RP:The Purging of a Body Snatcher
Bridge across the Void
Kasyr's absence had been felt during his ...'vacation', though it was after his 'unforunate' return that things had begun to really get complicated. Apparently, word had gotten out that he'd been spotted in the city when he had forced arrived- prompting an initial deluge of complaints, requests, petitions et cetera all aimed for his office. Ahkall's infestation had not exactly been conducive to addressing this situation (or even being aware of it), something that had left a number of the households feeling slighted. It's no wonder, thus, that the Kensai ended up with an even -greater- workload when he officially had reappeared earlier today. Suffice to say, Kasyr wasn't exactly amused by this development, and had enlisted the aid of a few of his subordinates to go and help him sort through the mail. Specifically, the revenant had set aside letters he'd need to address in his office, delegated the task of responding to petitions for funding to representatives of house Nasar and Ventra...and then just tossed the accumulated hate-mail and mindless complaints into some boxes. In the end, it amounted to three whole parcels- the likes of which the revenant now was in the process of hauling to the bridge. It's only when he arrives midway that he takes a break, setting them on the rail so that they rest precariously near to the edge- while he begins to fumble through the pockets of his trenchcoat for a smoke.
Larewen had drawn that 'prickish' aura closer to her body than was normal for her, and so it wouldn't be until he'd stepped onto the stones of the bridge that it might be felt. The dark sorceress was already there, waitng ever so patiently. She'd meant to keep her word about his return, and just as those who had their complaints had heard, so too had she. A grin displayed itself on pale lips, the ebon veins that webbed her skin contasting with her pale flesh. She was no longer the same woman he'd met within the tavern so many moons ago - though part of her yearned to for control once more. She watched quietly from behind her veil as he drew nearer, parcels in tow and, when he'd set them on the wall, a twitch of her finger and an uttered breath would twist the energy within her control. A thickening of the air would occur, precisely between the Kensai and his parcels, with the intent of pushing them off the rail and into the void below.
Kasyr , having gained the opportunity to stock up on an altogether unhealthy amount of cigarettes, doesn't need to rummage long before he finds a smoke. It's with careless ease that he settles it between his lips, his hand then drawing back in what could only be described as a snapping motion. At least, until those boxes abruptly tilt off the edge of the bridge, sending a chaotic rain of paper spraying out in all directions. Mostly. One box remains firmly sealed as it barrels towards the bottom- to no doubt explode when it reaches the bottom. Maybe it'll land on a giant spider, or something. Either way, It's about this point that the Kensai actually takes note of Larewen (individuals with particularily dark presences don't exactly stick out in Vailkrin), an awkward wave offered, "...Given boxes don't exactly grow legs et throw themselves off cliffs," ...Tenebrae's probably do. Emergency revision."At least from my office, I'll guess that was tu. Which, is sort of depressing. This was supposed to be one of those cathartic, set box on fire and nudge box off cliff one after the other in a liberating experience type moment." Speaking of fire, the revenant takes that moment to snap his fingers, a few errant sparks coaxed into life, so he can light his cigarette, "But I'm guessing that doesn't matter- et that tu have some bit of pressing....business." A pause, and then he asks, "Is this about those cultists, again? I really don't have time for them." That's a lie. Kasyr always has time to kill cultists.
Larewen might have frowned, in any other state of mind. This time, she simply stared at him. Or maybe glowered. That certainly seemed to be the more appropriate word. In response to his query, her fingers twitched again, this time her lips moving to form words that were lost on the air between the two. The dark of night offered more than enough shadows for the dark sorceress to manipulate, and she did just that. They twisted to her bidding, snaking along the ground toward the revenant with the intent of finding purchase first on his feet and then curl upward along his legs. Around her neck, that pendant glimmered. A second gesture would send similar shadows toward his hand. For the moment, their purpose seemed to be of insignificance - as if they simply sought to cling to him.
Kasyr's ears twitch (Yes, those cattish Calico ones), as though straining to pick out the words that had been lost to the evening but he otherwise remains as he is- standing in place as the shadows along the bridge contort and rush forward. It's with a languid grace that the revenant's right arm draws up, a brief crackle of electrical energy dancing along the outskirts of his sleeve- before that limbs abruptly snapped downwards, a still sparking shard of metal slipping out from his coat and into his hand. It's that item that serves as the focal point for the ensuing surge of electricity- effectively serving as a singular point of radiance meant to ward off, or dissipate the oncoming darkness. If it succeeded, the Kensai has at least a vague idea of what -might- work, if it fails- well, the Kensai's pretty much liable to be caught, since he's not particularily motivated to move, "Is this some sort of murderous foreplay thing? Maybe a grievance for a family member I killed? "Legitimate" business?" Kasyr, if his hands aren't bound, does in fact make air quotes. "Or something else?" She doesn't look like she's wearing a scarf. Probably not one of -those- cultists, unless they got smart and stopped wearing them. That'd be depressing. He'd stop having a means to keep score.
Satoshi had, at some point, lagged behind Kasyr by a considerable degree. It's not her fault, she's just not as physically strong as her husband, and so being laden down with two further boxes of hate mail has resulted in a considerably slower pace for the kit. As such, when she does eventually arrive, it's with her upper half completely obscured by said boxes, with her voice partially muffled by the barrier as she chatters to the kensai, "Y'know, I'm quite glad that the giants that get exiled from Frostmaw don't have enough brains between themselves to write me letters like this. I mean, the boulders they like to throw over the walls can be a nuisance, but it's nothing compared to such an atrocious waste of good writing mater-- Oh. Hullo." Satoshi's rambling train of words end abruptly, when she arrives on the bridge and peers around the boxes to spot not only Kasyr, but a stranger, seemingly engaged in something of a one-sided conversation. Amber-flecked eyes flick from the unfamiliar to her spouse, where a snowy eyebrow is arched in unspoken question.
Larewen :: The veins that marred that pale flesh seemed to bulge as his ligtning sought to dissipate the shadows she'd summoned. Were they normal shadows, it certainly would have done the trick. Larewen's manipulation of the darkness was anything but normal, though. Just as the corruption that flowed through her dead body was anything but simple. The truth of the matter was that the scholarly sorceress had little control of her desire to wreak havoc as of late, and though she often fought within herself for control, tonight she had little - if any - of it. And so, those shadows had begun to solidify into something far more tangible than simple darkness as that light flickered, taking on a form similar to that of ropes. With a flick of two fingers, the ones wrapped around his legs would tug in her direction, seeking to sweep the male off his feet and toward her. Satoshi, despite her talking, would, for the moment, be entirely unnoticed.
Satoshi, with an unnatural calm, gently lowers the boxes in her arms to be set upon the ground, all the while her gaze fixed and level on the events unfolding on the bridge. Everything about the kit is still and unruffled, as smooth as a placid lake's mirror surface--yet something about the halcyon state speaks not of an undisturbed lake, but the predatory monster lurking just below the waters, patiently waiting for that instant where peace erupts into a violent, calculated flurry of fangs, blood, and murderous precision. Satoshi is that predator. For while she has unwavering faith in her husband's strengths, she is equally defensive of him, and won't hesitate to lash out should the scales ever threaten to tip against him. As such, the magus stands still and waiting, watching, and beneath it all, softly murmuring. The words, although nearly inaudible, are a potent string of arcane lyrics, woven into a nearly palpable form around the eidolon as a thickening of Vailkrin's mists and plummeting of the night's chill. It is a gathering of errant vapors and magical energies, rather than a spell in full, in essence the drawing back of a bowstring without the arrow being released. Just yet. That's what waiting is all about~.
Larewen paid little mind to the shifting of energies around her, though it was not of her own beck and call. She should be far more alert, perhaps. In fact, given the manner in which she'd spent so many evenings in the tavern reading over old scrolls and parchments, studying only the gods knew what, one would think that the dark sorceress would be more calculating. Something was, most definitely, amiss with the woman, and it was far deeper than her prickish aura. Her eyes flashed behind that veil as Kasyr was tugged nearer to her, those inky tendrils still tight on his limbs. They did not seek to bite into his flesh, nor rend him apart as they slowed to a halt and sought to pull him upright once more. Honestly, it seemed as if the same feat would have been accomplished if she'd just stepped closer to him, or vice versa. The shadowy ropes would pull taut then, as another quite utterance ushered from her mouth drew more shadows toward her, though this time they were summoned to the palm of her hand. They would gather and twist, stretching as they formed a lance within her fist. Still, she did not speak aloud, for the dark sorceress had nothing to say. Her actions were without meaning.
Kasyr doesn't really seem to put up any resistance to the tugging of the shadowy ropes. He was more or less curious where this was going to lead. Suffice to say, he can't help but be a bit surprised and dissapointed when she simply plunks him down near to her- instead of throwing him off the bridge. At least until the secondary part of this particular exchange gets underway. Kasyr's gaze flickers from Larewen, to the rapidly forming pointy shadow construct, and back to Larewen again. "Ah. Personal touch." Without another word, the Revenant simply draws back his right hand, and flicks it forward- the motion meant to release the shard of metal he's been clutching the whole while. With his arm bound as it is, it's not exactly like it's the most awe inspiring delivery. At least until that shard of metal, now clearly able to be seen as a Mithil Scalpel, is promptly engulfed by electrical energy- sending it hurling towards Larewen's center mass with an altogether unnecessary amount of kinetic force. And of course, there's the secondary threat posed not only by the scalpel being currently superheated due to the electrical charge it currently holds, but also from the possibility of it fragmenting should it impact into bone, given it's fragile nature. Suffice to say, the kensai's pretty damn curious to see just how much of Larewen's abilities require concentration. "Suffice to say, I'd prefer you not get all thrust happy with moi, after tying me up."
Satoshi's only response to all of this--from peculiar shadow grabbing to violent scalpel railgunning-- is to loft a brow and quip, "He's spoken for, after all. I'm the only one allowed to get grabby~." The words carry a distinct lilt, not simply Satoshi's natural sing-song voice, but an undertone of the lyrical. The twist of sentence into song is a knack the magus uses to retain a hold on her summoned magics while still talking, so as to prevent that lurking aura of mist from dissipating while she makes jokes. Such tricks are essential, when you're an Azakhaer.
Larewen did not move as the scalpel was hurled at her, nor did she seek to roll away as it doubled as a lightning rod. A thud was heard as it struck home, burying itself in her sternum and fragmenting beneath her flesh. There was a brief moment in which the dark sorceress twitched awkwardly as the electricity discharged through her body, but no other signs of pain were seen, even as small bits of the blade agonizingly tore at bits of muscle. Blood should have seeped from her chest, but the substance that bubbled to the surface was anything but. It was a dark ichor that seemed to slowly ooze from the wound in her chest. Her mouth fell open, as if she sought to speak. Somehow, throughout the episode, she'd not lost the shadowlance she now wielded. At that moment, Satoshi finally drew her attention, albeit briefly. A ghost of a smirk twitched the corner of her lips, a sign that there might yet be some semblance of a mind within the sorceress before her attention returned to Kasyr -- and that was when she'd make use of her pointy shadows. She would bring it upward, tip directed at the male's torso as she suddenly hurled it forward. Larewen most definitely felt the pain of the scalpel, the scorch of the electricity, but whatever held control of her body did not.
Kasyr 's tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, a thoughtful, "Huh." escaping his lips just moments after Larewen finishes forming her shadow 'spear'. And then he's lurching, using the relative solidity of the shadowy strands which bind his limbs as a means of twisting his torso partially to the side, and then downwards. Primarily, it's as a means to mitigate the damage- at once directing it away from his central mass to avoid damaging what's there, and thereby providing a smaller area of impact so that he can direct that tenebrous aura of to consolidate at that particular region as opposed to the whole of his torso. And it's fairly functional, given that instead of getting impaled, it slams into his upper shoulder instead. More importantly, however, that particular manuever has the Kensai's coat hanging open- a fact the Kensai immediately puts to use by means of the very same aura he'd used to protect himself, those shadows seeking to encircle the twin katana's which lay sheathed at his side, and promptly wrench them clear. ...A little too forcefully, given that one is sent hurtling straight up with enough force that it's not going to be coming back down imminently. On the other hand, if Larewen -didn't- get distracted by the sudden sword-turned-missile, she'd probably notice the fact that the other sword was being tossed over to a waiting hand. Still bound, sure- but a sword in hand is better than. ...There's some sort of stupid analogy for this situation.
Satoshi knows better. She really, truly does. And yet... she still looks up out of sheer reflex at the sword sent skyward. Inwardly, she cringes because the last time this happened, she'd been forcefully tackled to the ground seconds later by a speeding tiefling. That was the past, however, and this is now, and she's not Kasyr's dance partner tonight. The stranger that bleeds black ink has that honor, something which breeds no envy from Satoshi. Thus it's with a shake of her head, musical mutter to herself, and a step back, that Satoshi settles in to passively watch the happenings unfold all the further. ...that is, if one doesn't count the minor interference said mutterings cause, in the form of the cobblestone beneath Larewen's feet gaining a slick layer of ice upon them.
Larewen had already begun to bid the shadows once more as the male writhed away from the brunt of her attack. She was in auto-pilot. The sword that was cast toward the heavens did not receive any more than a brief glance as she moved to step nearer to the male. Her step was not as graceful as it should have been, for the sheet of ice Satoshi had brought into existance had escaped the dark sorceress's observation. First, one booted foot slipped. Then, the next. She tried to steady herself, and her arms flailed almost as if she were drowning before, ultimately, her footing would be lost. With a thunk, the woman fell flat on her back, her head dashing against the stone. More of that inky substance gathered at the back of her head, crawling along the stone. And then, finally, that sword would return to the earth. Or rather, to her gut. Whether that projectile's aim had been intentional or pure luck, it had come down to impale the dark sorceress through her stomach, pinning her to the stone bridge. It wasn't a fatal blow, certainly, but it would give them a moment to deal with her, or leave, as her hands reached upward to curl around its hilt. More of that ooze bubbled from her belly.
Kasyr 's barely even gotten his fingers around the hilt of the not-so-airborne sword, before his arm is promptly engulfed in an erratic web of electrical energy, the likes of which crawls down to his blade before sparking off into the air. Within a nigh literal blink of an eye, that build-up of energy expands, enveloping the revenants form before it promptly flickers out fo sight, a few vestigial motes of energy simmering in the air where Kasyr had been held by Larewen's magic. The kensai, for his part, comes to a skidding halt not far behind the dark sorceress, if only so he can turn around and promptly proceed to shake his now bleeding left hand off- heedless of the sparks which trailed off of it. Really, the only thing the Kensai makes an active point of doing, is interposing the still sheathed sword he has in his right hand into the path of the fallen swords sheathe, sending it clattering down behind him, instead of off the cliff. Which leaves Kasyr free to stare now, "So. About that attempted murder. Do you need a minute? To compose yourself, maybe get a good running st- ..right, impaled to the ground. Sorry, my bad." Technically. Really, the Kensai's not entirely sure -why- it came down so adroitly. There's something about it that doesn't quite sit right with the Revenant.
Satoshi grimaces in an almost sympathetic manner, were she actually the sympathetic sort. Okay, it's a pretty lousy facsimile of 'sympathetic', what with the magus trying to smother a grin throughout. "Bad luck, that. I'm not sure that was the sort of sword she was looking for, dear, but with foreplay so rough, what can ya expect, eh?" Despite the flippant tone and playful remarks, however, there's a keen gleam in Satoshi's eye as she watches the sorceress pinned to the bridge. Something about that black pseudo-blood doesn't sit well with the magus, and it's that uncertainty that provokes her into encouraging further frost to creep toward Larewen's form in an attempt to latch on and keep her in place--an icy version of those shadowy ropes called up earlier.
Larewen knew exactly why the blade had come down as it had, for while the beings in control of her body had not watched, she had and so it was her will that had sought to break free, to connect with that seemingly errant blade. Unfortunately, she'd missed her mark. Aiming in that manner was not a simple thing. Larewen had sought to stake herself through the heart with the blade-turn-projectile, not through the cut. Shishi would, most definitely, not have approved but did she care? Not in this instant. After all, she had -tried- to kill him. Her mouth opens again, in an attempt to speak but -they- won't let her. They want to spill blood, not listen to the woman whose body they have taken up refuge in. Even as the frost creeps over the dark sorceress, her limbs struggle to pull the blade free.
Kasyr slings the katana he's wielding over his shoulder, before he casually steps over to Larewen and abruptly begins to lean on the sword that skewered her, keeping it firmly wedged inside her. That said, despite the malicious means of keeping her subdued, he does not pursue further hostilities, instead simply scrutinizing the woman. There's something acutely -wrong- about her, something that only begins to stand out now that he's looking for it. It's not the darkness about her that really arouses any sort of scrutiny- but rather the muddled chaos that is her emotions, and yet more still- a veritable cacophony of empathic emanations all coiled up within her frame. "...Did I miss a memo? Es body snatching in this season?" ...Considering the Revenant's finished spending a bit over two weeks sitting in the backseat of his own body as Ahkall went on a rampage, he's not exactly -happy- when he makes this statement.
Satoshi, in echo to her husband's casual lean, props herself against the pair of boxes she'd left sitting beside her. Unlike Kasyr, however, the magus lacks any means of sensing the turmoils within Larewen. All Satoshi can gather is that -something- is wrong with this woman, and it's potent enough to make the kit's whiskers quiver from a distance. What exactly that something is, only the sorceress knows. And maybe the Empath leaning over her. "This is not a trend I want to see take wing," Satoshi's comment and expression are equally sour. "Is this the sort of case where we haul her off to a paladin to set right? Or is this the 'chuck the problem off a bridge' kind?"
Kasyr helpfully adds, "We -are- equipped to do both~"
Larewen would hope not for the latter, for the sake of her fiance, if she had any ability to truly comprehend and react to the woman's words. For the moment, as the ice enclosed her, all she could hear was muffled something-or-another. Kasyr's weight against the sword furthered her discomfort, but they did not allow her to cry out, for the pain was hers, not their's, to bear. Her mouth had ceased moving as the sheet of ice spread over her face. They, however, tugged upon the shadows once more, seeking to bring them toward the fallen sorceress and the two that stood over her.
Kasyr might not be a 'sage of wind' (windbag?) like Riss, but that didn't mean he was without a means to deal with this particular problem. Without a second thought the Revenant calls upon Empera, beckoning the weapon of temperance to at once rouse itself and manifest once more- a call which it does not fail to heed. About the Kensai's forearms, a mass of swirling luminescent feathers begin to form from thin air, curious constructs of light and lightning- which meld together all too readily. It's an odd sort of parralel, the light growing increasingly intense, even as the shadows in the Revenants vicinity grow all the more profound. And then, all at once, the light cuts out- revealing a pair of gleaming vambraces on Kasyr's arm- one platinum, the other gold, and both sparking with a fierce light. Empera is a peculiar 'arnament', after all, an artifact that bears not only an affinity for lightning, but also for a certain holy radiance. Which makes it the perfect weapon for Kasyr, given that he yet remains Daedria's champion- her chosen sword, her paladin. Whilst not -holy- persay, the energies Kasyr can channel due to his role are certainly -divine-, and more than than compatible with Empera- something which enables the Revenant to promptly send a surcharge of holy imbued electrical energy pouring into the unforunate vampiress body. "....You know, carefully electrocuting someone with their bane to help them es sort of a new one." It's like brain surgery on a dragon, except that he's -not- trying to lose the patient.
Satoshi has no retorts to this. In fact, the kit's taken swift refuge behind the stacked boxes since the appearance of Empera, so that all that is visible of her is the top of her head--ears pressed flat in obvious displeasure--where she's peering over a box edge. Remember that part about not envying the sorceress? This is precisely why.
Larewen hardly had an inkling as to why Satoshi hid. She was offered limited vision due to her body being trapped within the ice, and even then, they limited what she could comprehend. They did not, however, mitigate the pain. As the arc of eletricity is released into her body, it twitched. They could not contain the poor vampiress's body as the holy-lightning burrowed its way into her. Her back arced upward against the ice. Over and over she lifted against it until it began to crack, hardly able to contain such a violent throe. Unfortunately, the more spasming that occured, the more that sword in her gut would tear at her insides, shredding them with each lift. She cried out then, finally. A sound other than silence assaulting the ears of those around her. It was shrill; it was enough to wake the dead, were Vailkrin not already home to the living dead. Her eyes were open wide and nearly bulging from her sockets and her extremities tingled beneath that magic. They didn't like the way it felt. Unlike before, they could not ignore the pain, for it singled them out. They too cried out, within the woman's mind. They screamed, and she reflected their cries with her vocals. They wanted out of her, out of the holiness that washed over them.
Kasyr , despite the woman's sloppy attempt at homicide, doesn't particularily hold a grudge- something which precipitates him to try and minimize the damage to at least a partial degree. Which is to say he promptly steps on her, not hard enough to cause her damage, but firmly enough to stop her from filleting herself. He does not, however, -stop-. If anything, the fact that the interlopoing essences within Larewen are feeling agony only spurs him to continue onwards, as it indicates that this particular (lack of a/half-assed) plan is working. Empera is also quite keen to see this through, the holy arnament seeking to ensnare those errant spirits within it's power, to purge them from her form- and then, ultimately, to consume them, if they can be seperated from Larewen's spirit.
Kasyr 's move to step on Larewen should, as long as she doesn't find a new, creative way to disembowel herself, also serve as a means to cauterize the recently inflicted wounds, if only because the current temperature of the blade. Kasyr's trying extra careful -not- to set Larewen on fire from the inside out, however, and at least has his leg nearby to serve as a relative indicator of when/if things get 'womgtoohottimetostop'.
Satoshi's eyes narrow as she watches, the amber flecks of her gaze luminous with the reflected holy light. Although she harbors a--healthy--fear and hatred for Empera, and a studious indifference to the unfamiliar sorceress, the scholar in Satoshi can't help but feel a degree of morbid fascination with the proceedings--most especially the brutal yet precise manner in which Kasyr is working. Satoshi doesn't need to be an empath to feel there is more than one voice behind Larewen's cries. The sound cuts straight to the foxkin's core, a primal noise of an agony that is not born purely from electrocution, and enough to draw Satoshi a little further from her hiding. If nothing else, than she will play the role of observer. It never hurts to witness and learn from new developments--and perhaps later, she can convince Svilfon to attempt similar experiments.
Larewen choked on her cries as the Kensai's foot settled on her abdomen, stilling her writing body from causing too much damage to itself. Tears, of the crimson sort, pooled at the waterline of her eyes. They spilled over, breaking past that barrier to carve small crimson paths down the site of her face. Larewen was in complete and total agony, but so were they. And the fact that they cried out with her afforded the poor scholarly sorceress some comfort. The blackened blood was stemmed by the over-heating of the sord as it sought to seal the wounds, teasing more cries from the poor woman. Inwardly, she had wondered what she'd done to receive such an agonizing punishment, for they had have had some reason to take her, yes? The pendant around her neck, that had been glimmering throughout the night, suddenly went dull as finally, they were suctioned from her body. Slowly but surely, Empera was eating them whilst the broken elven vampire cried beneath Kasyr's boot.
Kasyr can perceive that shift of emotions that accompanies the steady consumption of those malignant souls, both their agony and their dread as the virtuous weapon, Empera, consumes them. It's this success that pushes the Kensai to finish what he's started, to continue this process until the only thing left shrieking within Larewen's form is herself. It's only then that the Kensai draws his sword clear of her stomach, and steps back from her body. "...Mon amour, I think she's going to require a bit of hands on help. Et frankly, given how cooked she is- I'm fairly sure she es going to need to cool off.."
Satoshi shoots Empera a dark look even as she straightens up and holds out her hands, palms aglow with the azure runes carved into the flesh. A cautious step forward is taken, with an equally cautious glance flicking from Larewen to Empera, Satoshi uncertain which one is more unpredictable and potentially dangerous. "If you want kensai-cooking reversed, I'm the mage for the job. ...So long as she's not going to jump up and stab me with shadows, mind you." Lines of suspicion still visible on the magus' face, Satoshi crouches down then to hold out an illuminated hand toward Larewen. While no actual contact is made, there's a distinct aura of chill coming from Satoshi's outstretched hand. Not an unpleasant chill, but one that's strangely refreshing and soothing, as if one has just taken a deep breath of clean Winter air. It is the gentlest aspect of Satoshi's otherwise hazardous healing abilities.
Larewen felt them leave, finally, to be swallowed by Empera. The pain that wracked her body was miniscule in relation to the relief that watched over her. Her cries slowly fell silent, amber eyes fixed skyward. There was a silence within her that she'd not felt in months. A silence that she welcomed; her attempts at being civil had been strained because of them. But now, they were gone. The pain in her stomach flared brilliantly against the coolness off the remaining ice - against the coldness of Satoshi's magick. It was a soothing chill, when it did make contact with her body, and she welcomed it. Her lips quivered as her fingers curled into fists. Larewen was happy. She wasn't entirely right, but at least she had far more control of herself. The only thing tainted now would be her magick. Tears continued to well within those eyes; continued to leave a streak fo red as they slipped free. Finally, those pale lips would part for a quiet, "Thank you, Kasyr... and miss."
Kasyr for his part, doesn't particularily seem to be all that focused on Larewen while Satoshi's doing her thing. Specifically, the Kensai takes a few moments to clean the blood off his sword, before he ambles over towards the fallen sheathe, placing the weapon within it once more, before he settles the twin blades at his hip. It's only then that he get's down to business. Which is to say, that he quickly beelines over towards the remain two boxes, before he begins to gleefully empty their contents over the side of the bridge. He even remembers to set the contents of the second box on fire. Somewhere in the midst of this altogether juvenile display, the Kensai musters an altogether inappropriately cheerful response of, "No problem, Madamoiselle..." He couldn't place her name. The kensai just plays it cool, by resuming what he was doing. And throwing the now empty boxes off the bridge. After they are thoroughly on fire.
Kasyr said to Larewen, "...I'm sort of lost on the details of the whole thing though. Other than a loose: you were possessed and tried to kill moi 'rawr' thing. Was there a method to that madness?"
Satoshi looks, of all things, miffed. Partly because Larewen referred to her simply as 'miss'--and being terribly vain, Satoshi tends to feel wounded when she's not immediately recognized--and partly because Kasyr set fire to and sacrificed the hate mail without her. After she had lugged both those boxes all the way. Jerk. "Jerk," Satoshi echoes her thoughts, alongside a daggered look at the gleeful kensai. This same look as flicked Larewen's way, where it softens into a perplexed expression. Satoshi's still not sure who this sorceress is, why her husband was attacked, and why they ended up helping the would-be murderer. This is what comes of tailing Kasyr.
Satoshi decides suddenly that such answers will have to wait, because it's far more tempting to scoff, and then stomp off bristling with indignity on a regal scale. That's for leaving her out of all the fun, Kasyr! You'll pay for that one.
Kasyr calls out after Satoshi, "Je t'adore, mon amour."
Satoshi's answering hand gesture supposedly resembles some sort of avian. Honestly, she'll never understand why it was given such a name, it looks nothing like a bird~.
Satoshi doesn't mean a lick of it, of course, but it'll certainly get her plenty of affectionate attention later.
Larewen couldn't make sense of the Kensai's words. At least, not right now. As the frost mended the wounds, she was left perplexed. Confused. It would take her some time, and lots of poor victims, to regain her senses, certainly. She would rise, slowly, into a seated position as her eyes moved from Kasyr to his wife, whom she had not met prior to now. The silence rang through her mind and left her nearly speechless as she sought to rise to her feet. "I... I..." Her eyes fixed on Satoshi then and she offerd her a thin smile. A ghost, really. "Sorry, ma'am," she breathed befoer ducking her head. She needed rest, blood. She would seek the couple out later to apologize in a more formal manner.