RP:Things That Have Been Long Overdue

Part of the The God of Undeath Arc

Part of the Welcome To The End Of Eras Arc

Summary: Threats are passed back and forth between Kasyr and Iintahquohae during the Vailkrin Blood Bowl match between Mathollak and Nortengaal. After the match is finished, a fight breaks out between the two vampires, and yet another between Quintessa and Khitti. The four fight it out instead of hug it out and House Dragana's mansion pays the price of all of it.

Note: In an effort to highlight the bickering between Inks and Kasyr during the match, the majority of the banter from the match itself and some character intros have been removed. To read the match in full, as well as it's declared winner, click here.

Dark Arena, Vailkrin

During The Duel

Kasyr strides over to a still vacant seat along the outskirts of the stands, and promptly lounges back- seemingly indifferent to the mixed reactions his presence entails. Some, no doubt, still recall Vexars declaration of his mortality from before, while others, perhaps, hold allegiance to houses that harbour frostier relations with that of Azakhaer. Yet, of those who notice, there are some whose interest is less overtly hostile. Possibly because they haven't suffered recent property damage due to his presence.

Iintahquohae retreated from Cenril after the election to spend some time mingling with the houses she had some alliances with in Vailkrin, business or otherwise. In fact, she's visiting the arena sandwiched between one of House Ventra's artisans and one of Trintus' soldiers, talking in hushed tones before her attention is drawn toward a certain Revenant she hasn't crossed paths with in some time. She parts from her companions to climb into a seat right next to Kasyr, strong arming whoever might be sitting next to him right out of the way if she has to. Her demeanor is calm given the circumstances, though Kas knew her well enough to know something ripples beneath the surface of that facade. A long and skinny arm casually drapes over her sire's shoulder, making a point of grabbing hold of that shoulder in a tight grip. It's only then that she leans in to whisper something.

Iintahquohae whispers to Kasyr, "You're sticking around with me after this is done."

Kasyr has been given a reason to bet on Mesdoram's opponent. Neat. That said, whilst the idea of winning a payoout by default's an entertaining prospect- it's not one he focuses on for long, given Inks directness in seeking his attention, or her attempts at strong-arming, "You know, the shoulder thing works better on people not wearing armoured trenchcoats, Madamoiselle. Et you might be careful about giving orders." And then he casually begins to fiddle in his coat for a smoke, heedless of whatever progress she might be making with the preklek plating and mithril mesh. Maybe he'll care more when his supply of dead preks runs out.

Iintahquohae doesn't particularly care if her shot at intimidation even works. Frankly she looks a little torn, and a little ridiculous with the way her vulpine ears decide to involuntarily swivel with all the noise around them. It's been a while since she's seen Kasyr, but with news gleaned from the new archmage prior to her departure from that guild, the seamstress can't decide if she's happy or furious. The reaction she's having now is, frankly, months late, but she's had plenty of time to let her anger stew and fester and who better to take it out on then someone who can recover from whatever she hurls at him later? Her hand doesn't leave Kasyr's shoulder as a result, but she gives up on trying to bend prek plate and mithril with her fingers alone. Fine, no orders, but she does ask a question that might be a low blow. Only to try riling him up. Again she goes for a whisper.

Iintahquohae whispered to Kasyr, “How would you feel if I did what you did to Odhranos, but to her?” She means Estbel, but doesn't say the name. Hopefully the emphasis on 'her' is enough to piss him off. “Lanlan told me.”

Kasyr fingers snap together amidst Inks whispered words, the sole indication that she'd touched a button the vividness of the light, as he sears the end of his smoke off. He takes a moment to take in a long drag- savoring the flavour now that the burning of his lungs is a thing of the past, and then slowly turns his attention on the seamstress. That she means -Estbel- is lost to him, his mind flickering more towards the still-absent Satoshi, yet the result's similar enough, because while the Kensai manages a smile- it's that of a beast sizing up prey, "I think she knew better than to let her body get hi-jacked by necromancers, et possibly endangering everything she stood for." There's a pause, and then the Kensai leans slightly forward, his voice lowering just a drop, "Which es to say, had we -not- been able to pry Ernest loose, I would have killed him where he stood- instead of just subduing him, Cherie." Perhaps he might have deliberated before, hesitated- been stopped by Valrae. But that would have been him as the man, not as the vampire now staring at Inks. "But, suppose she was that -stupid-. I'd have understood the necessity. Because I -do- what's necessary." Here his head cants off towards the 'illustrious' countess presiding over the duels, "Which es the same reason her days are numbered." The moment it won't be a national incident.

Kasyr said to Iintahquohae, " Though, maybe it was less, 'Where he stood' and more 'where he lay bleeding'."

Leoxander was also aware of Iintahquohae’s arrival though he made it a point not to settle his gaze toward the pair for too long, but it was very likely he was eavesdropping on what he could catch of their quiet conversation without appearing obvious about it. Absently rubbing the side and back of his neck to ease some of the ache and tension of oversleeping, if not for the brawl in the pit he might have had a more difficult time fighting the urge to rest his eyes right where he sat.

Quintessa stares down at Kasyr, a tiny bit of anxiety creeping over her calm exterior, though it doesn’t last long. Her black brows furrow in thought and then she starts to scribble something down on a piece of parchment.

Valrae felt the fine, short hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Anxiousness overtook her then, coming from some awareness prickling along her skin that turned the marrow of her bones to ice. She sat straighter in her seat, looking around the area for the cause. It didn’t take long for her dark eyes to find Kasyr and Iintahquohae together. Her lips bow into a pouting, confused frown. She almost moved to join them but hesitated, the cold beer in her hands nearly slipping from her grasp. Thinking better of it, she attempts to catch the Revenant’s eye with a small wave and half hearted smile before she turns her attention back onto the match.

Iintahquohae blinks at her sire's words. These were details that she wasn't made aware of at all, and while Kasyr sizes her up, she's doing the same. Sort of. How ridiculously uninformed she was from start to finish with that guild has her want to point her anger elsewhere, but... Dull brown eyes linger on Kasyr for a time. There's that torn feeling again. He's family in a way. Closer to her than most – arguably the closest person existing now, given her husband's predicament. She doesn't even bother to try snatching at his cigarette to snuff it out like she used to, and she just might have left it at that and let herself own up to her stupidity with an apology if it weren't for the notion that he might've killed Odhranos in the end. The words he says conjure up images in her mind that are enough to stoke her anger again. Now he's pressed her button, and she's in the mood to be reckless. And use her sire as some emotional punching bag. “Let's do something unnecessary then.” Casual Coterie family...bonding? The shift to something akin to a playful tone is stilted coming from the seamstress, but one can't simply lighten the mood from the death of a spouse to their in joke about Kasyr's never-ending jacket collection. “I'll replace your jacket?” Was the one he currently wore even something from her shop? "Can't have you running around in rags..."

Lanara has been engrossed with the match, but her intuition prickles and she finds her attention drawn to the lovely witch at her side. “You alright, Val?” Her words are but a whisper, meant solely for the blonde. Lana’s not convinced by that half-hearted smile that the fellow witch offers to someone in the crowd, but she doesn’t want to pry.

Valrae fixes another smile on her lips, this time for Lanara. There was gratitude there this time, and she reached out to pat the other woman’s hand gently. The other witch had always had a strong intuition for other’s emotions, even if that ability was stronger with animal friends, and Val felt sorry for worrying her. “I think so-” She had begun to reply, just as Math seemed to mount the candy dragon, and a shocked gasp stole the rest of whatever she might have been saying. She cheers loudly, even as he goes flying again. “That was impressive!” She chirps to Lanara, laughing.

Kasyr probably should be paying attention to the tourney, or even the hostess' actions, but the emotions roiling inside the seamtress demand precedence, if only because despite her naivete- she's still dangerous. Partly because of his awareness of what she is, what resides in her- but also the less quantifiable changes. He can't be certain if they're related to the same shift in his ex-wife, which had fed a certain latent anger issue, or if it was a seperate 'beast' entirely. What he -is- certain of, is the simple fact that her outright sense of indignation at him has given way to confusion, though the appetite for violence still seems there. It's why his initial response to her question is along the lines of a very suspicious, "Uh-huh.", if only because he's fairly sure what's going to ensue. "You were going to replace it, anyways, but if you insist, madamoiselle. But you might want to wait until a bit of space clears out." There's a pause here, before the swordsman finally asks the question, "So, what exactly -did- Lanlan tell you? I'm curious- since he's been doing his best to earn my attention, lately."

Quintessa folds up the parchment and hands it to an attentendant, whispering an order to them. The attendant enters the crowd, meandering to the area Kasyr stood. “Mr. Azakhaer? A message for you..” The attendant holds out the parchment for the kensai to take. If he does, the message contained within simply reads “Rhew” scribbled in common.

Lanara fixes a smile on her fair face and is relieved to hear that Valrae is alright. “I’m glad.” Still, her gaze lingers on the woman’s features when she turns to see Mathollak mount the licorice dragon. Lana’s always been in tune with the emotions of beasts, true, but she can also sense when something is greatly amiss. Especially in those that she considers dear to her heart, or those that have magical ties similar to her own. Something had struck her intuition and that nagging itch at the base of her neck continues to needle her, although she cannot discern what’s causing it to spike. '

Kasyr -shouldn't- accept a random message from the attendant, but- considering he doesn't feel anything malign coming off of it- he let's his curiosity take precedence. Which leaves him squinting at it for a few long moments, before he finally leans back, rolls his eyes and lets out a puff of air that is simultaneously exasperated and amused.

Iintahquohae doesn't wait for Kas to respond as she hunches over into a slouch beside him, forgoing her usual, semi-stoic rigidity for a posture she'd permit herself to take behind closed doors. She's lost in thought now, thumb and forefinger of her right dye-stained hand slowly turning the wedding band on her left ring finger. She's aware eyes are on her and her sire, likely more on him rather than her, but the seamstress makes little effort to lift her gaze and acknowledge whoever happens to be peeking. Reflection should come later, but when did things ever happen in a timely manner, really? The thoughts are interrupted once Kasyr speaks again. She nods. “ 'Course, after this is done. ...Now with that tree fixed and this,” she tugs down the grey collar of her button-up, revealing the distinct lack of black scales there. Seems Sacred's mark slithered back to its hiding place behind her human ear, the black serpent coiled in on itself and dormant once more. Or behind where her human ears -were-. Did she even have those with the fox ears on her head now? “...I can actually be...” Useful? Competent? Competent is doubtful, but brutish – absolutely. Save finesse for making clothes and crafting jewelry. “He said you and Karasu beat up his body, but didn't give details.”

Daisy finally finds her way to the noise and popcorn and omg so noisy. But she is small and fights are more interesting. Definitely more interesting than kittens with dirt on their faces. Big eyes look and look and look for anyone who might be anyone who might be remembering who she is and finally there is spotted right there! Right there with a face and ears and... new ears? But a face! A sad face but a remembered face. Little legs dart through the crowd and there is no asking. There are no words, only smiles. smiles bringing that little bit of light that might be remembered if she thinks real hard about tea and the ocean. Kasyr is given a smile and a little wave, but it is Iintahquohae's lap that is climbed onto. Noses meet and two eyes become one on both faces. There are hugs to be had, my dear friends. Daisy takes what she wants.

Kasyr gets a weird sense of Deja-vu when the seamstress mentions this, but, it slips away just as quickly- replaced instead by a studious look. It's still there- there's that sickly familiar presence lingering to her, but it is diminished. One less thing to worry about in the immediate moment, then. "We'll figure that one out soon, then. I owe a few individuals some long overdue meetings. Speaking of which-" It's here that the Kensai cups his hands around his mouth, leans right past Inks, and casually calls over to Khitt, "Hey, Khitt- Got a moment, monsieur? I'm going to be addressing something in a moment, and would appreciate you coming along." And then his head tilts back over towards Inks, "If you're doing this- you might want to throw the first punch." A beat, "And make it count."

Kasyr say Daisy: ...Er, hi, again. " Obviously, he'll offer a moment for the two to reacquaint, before Inks' face gets rearranged, "Fancy seeing you here.

Iintahquohae ;; The seamstress is experiencing all sorts of emotional whiplash today. First fury, then doubt and confusion, back to anger, sadness, and now joy. Absolute joy at the sight and scent of the feline that climbs into her lap and embraces her. “D-Daisy...?” Well, hopefully Kasyr isn't too bothered by their new seat buddy because Daisy is getting the tightest hug a vampire can give without crushing someone. She knew Inks as a human, and their paths crossed after her siring too, didn't they? So much tea and stories shared. This gal was by far her favorite tea-drinking companion, excluding Odhranos. The thought has her expression turn solemn for a moment, knowing with certainty that the late terramancer would have adored this tangible ball of sunshine and she just holds on. In a rare show of any sort of affection on the seamstress's part, she bonks her nose against Daisy's and flashes a fanged grin. There aren't enough words to encapsulate this odd tug at her heartstrings – at the past, and she peers over at Kasyr over Daisy's head. They're still doing Coterie Things after this but...Maybe after they fight it out they can hug it out too. Seems appropriate. She nods at his suggestion about punching first, but not yet. Not with someone so precious in her lap.

Valrae cheers loudly as the winner is announced, waving her sign madly. When her excitement settles, she doesn’t wait to see the final blows. Instead, she says her goodbyes to Lanara, Leo and anyone else near enough. For the rest she offers a wave before slipping out, her guards trailing after her.

Leoxander trailed the little gold-haired feline creature as it ran passed aiming for Iintahquohae before he stood with flask returned to back pocket and his arms folding over his chest in a neutral stance, waiting to see who would get the upper hand in the candy arena to finish the fight. No real change of expression as the answer revealed itself and the announcement came, his expression stoic even as he looked back toward the wolves, witches and vampire that had chosen their seat nearby, "Who wan's to pick up the rug off the floor?"

Khitti || Khitt cheered for Mathollak's win, but when Kasyr called to him, he just blinked at him a few times. "Yeah sure," he said at length, handing over the rest of his whiskey to Meri. The redhead stood and brushed off his suit, adjusted his tie, then moved from his seat to where Kasyr and Iintahquohae were seated..

Daisy is exactly who she is even if Inky isn't exactly who she used to be. That is okay though. Hearts are hearts and hearts beat for all the reasons they are supposed to. Unless they don't, but those are stories for another time. Not this time! This time is for friends from a that long ago time. She shifts in the hug so noses release and cheeks meet. Happy faces! Kasyr receives another little finger wave. "I needed her." Even though Daisy never knows what she needs until it is there for her to take. And probably maybe Inky needed Daisy too. But no one is saying that out loud. It is okay. Hearts and all that. She looks back to Inky for purring and squeezes. "You have to go, yes?"

Kasyr is careful to let out a breath of smoke away from Daisy, the cigarette currently balanced between his fingers, "I don't mind. It's been a while. I wouldn't mind catching up myself. Just, not quite now." There's a certain good humour in what he says, genuine in nature- and yet it can't conceal that simple appetite for violence that's been stirred up, that thread which seems to run through everyone in his house. A reckless bloodthirst that can be hard to quell once it's finally allowed to slip to the surface, "So~."

Iintahquohae lets go of Daisy only so she can start piling her mass of grey curls into some messy knot on top of her head so they're less of a hindrance to her before it's time to take that first hit. Of course, Daisy is more than welcome to remain perched on her lap, or wherever she wishes to be. The seamstress is also waiting for the arena to clear out a bit, because as Kas might expect, she fully intends on dragging him into the ring and that sugary candy mess down there if it hasn't been cleaned up between now and then. With reluctance, she nods slowly to Daisy but gives her another tight hug. Inks absolutely needed Daisy. She's an anchor, a person from the past that reminded her of much gentler times.“Yes, but we have to catch up. Soon. Tea? Mallard's moved, but there's a place in Cenril called Ginger Snapped and you'd love it.” With an overabundance of care, she lifts Daisy from her lap and sets her gently down on the seat right beside her, then waits for Kas to finish up. ...Gotta be polite about fighting your sire over something that you thought went one way but actually went another way, right? “Hey Khitt,” she greets, then casts a sidelong glance at Daisy. “If you or Khitti ever see this darling at your place, I'll pay for whatever she wants.” ...Do bakeries even run tabs for people? They should if they don't. Shoving her hands in the pockets of her jacket, she does find some gold in there if Khitt wants cash upfront. Back to Kasyr, now. "You done?"

Kasyr said to Iintahquohae, "Says the one who I've been waiting on. Next time, I'm just sucker punching you."

Iintahquohae said to Kasyr, “ In front of Daisy? Absolutely not.”

Khitt gave both Inks and Daisy his usual half-assed salute in greeting. "Of course, I'll let everyone at the bakery know."

Valrae had been leaving. Really, she had. But something stopped her. It was that tingling sense of awareness that had no name running along the edge of her spine. So, she had her driver turn the carriage around before they’d made it very far and then carted herself and her guards back into Dark Arena. She didn’t really know why or what she was looking for. But she saw Khitt was still there, so the witch made her way toward him and broke her own rules by grabbing another beer as she went. “Uh, hey.” She says awkwardly, “What's… Goin’ on?”

Khitti || Khitt jumped as Val snuck up behind him, "Frak!" After making sure he wasn't dying from a heart attack, he shrugged. "Dunno. Think we're gonna find out though."

After The Duel

Quintessa lingers in her booth. She wants to come down and join the group so badly but she knows she shouldn’t. It would not be a good idea. Still, she watches in silence as the arena slowly empties.

Daisy isn't sure what is going on, but that is okay. "We will have tea and catching." She nods to them both while hugging her legs there in the new seat. Khitt is looked over and remembered? Trying. Trying. It has been a long time. Faces are hard. But bakeries are very welcome. Mmmm. Cookies.

Valrae squealed and jumped when Khitt jumped. “Oh gods!” She says, feeling the wind leave her chest. She hadn’t meant to sneak up on him. It was a little funny though. So she also giggled. But it didn’t last long. The tension she’d been feeling bubbles back to the surface. She looks towards Kasyr again. “Find out what…” Her tone was bleak.

Lanlan arrives just in time for the duel…to be over. He can’t even see who the fighters were, but by all accounts, this Mathollak guy was a particularly amazing fellow. Lanlan had his doubts. As he enters the arena, annoyed by the enormous crowd rapidly dissipating and the people-flow it creates against him, he notices a few people conspicuously -not- leaving. Valrae, Khitt, Inks, and Kasyr. Inks and Kasyr. This could be very bad for him. But the archmage coat she was working on was definitely going to be very -good- for him. He’ll have to ensure diplomacy is foremost here today. “Hello Valrae,” he says. “What’s going on with them?”

Valrae seems very surprised to find Lanlan in Vailkrin. Her golden brows arch, even as a smile springs to her lips. “Hey!” She says, her tone cheery despite the anxiety she felt. “What are you doing here?” The happiness she felt might have eclipsed the worry, but for his presence offering a new concern. Specifically, the animosity that had reached a near boiling point between Lanlan and Khitti. It might have been Khitt next to her now, but really that just felt like more of a.. Punching danger. She shifts very subtly so that she is standing between the two men. Hopeful that this would be enough to prevent any immediate flying fists, she turns her attention back to Kasyr and Inks. Her desire to keep the peace could fill an ocean and that still would not be enough to move her into standing between those two.\

Quintessa stares down at the small group still left in the arena and she too is wondering what the frak they are all doing here. It’s making her nervous.

Lanlan shrugs, "I go to these things sometimes. Knowing who's willing to fight for things like money can be useful after all. This is usually around when they begin isn't it?" He of course didn't mention that there was a particular urge to come to this place, at this time, that he wasn't sure about. There was some tension pulling him toward this place, and an instinct made it less surprising to see Valrae and Kasyr here. But Khitt is met with a respectful nod and that's it. They didn't have much to talk about after the altercation the other day. No point of eclipsing another outing with their infighting.

Iintahquohae ;; Alright, delightful, near tear-jerking reunion is over. Time to...Well, with that new information the seamstress isn't really sure how to transition from her good mood to utter fury, but it's fine. It's fine. This is a lesson. ...Somehow. If you squint enough. Kas, squint enough. We can work with this. Sometimes you just gotta open up a...fight... whatever this is, with a very lackluster scoop of your short king of a sire bridal style into your arms, then do a little twirl to gather some momentum, and throw him right into the arena. Why? Space. Don't wanna hit any bystanders, but the seamstress is vaulting over what remained of the arena's audience members with her mix of speed and acrobatics that -hopefully- positions her in the candy-coated fighting area before Kas can do something midair or land. A wand is drawn from a concealed pocket – created from driftwood harvested off of Cenril's shores with a core of clay, the sandy-colored wand is carved to look like a twist of octopus tentacles, tapered to a point. Of course, this move won't do much at all considering Kasyr is not only stronger than her, but he's got that mithril and plated jacket armoring him. In truth she's just playing here right now, flexing that arcane muscle she hasn't been able to properly use in years. Her left wand hand arcs in the air before her in a reversed figure-eight, siphoning off what water and steam that remained from any still hot or pools of cooling caramel from that candy mountain, gathering it all into an amorphous blob midair. She inhales deeply, finding purpose in her useless lungs since she no longer required to draw breath, and exhales frigid, magicked air at the amalgam of water vapor and steam, freezing it all to flakes of snow, shards of sharpened ice, a thick icicle or two. Wand arm rears back as if the seamstress may be drawing an arrow, then punches forward, flinging that 'wall' of winter at Kasyr's body. Instead of fleeing, she remains rooted to the ground – partly because of the caramel clinging to her boots and partly because it's time to draw on more magic – more traits she's picked up from other mages' tutelage since her siring. A single stamp into the ground beneath her boot creates a gnarled web of fissures around her, cracking through solidified caramel and the dirt beneath it. A thin pillar of earth to her immediate left rises from the fissures that breaks a piece after pocketing her wand, roughly the length of a polearm, only to be sucked right back into the ground, then shot like a cannon skyward. She takes a page from each of the terramancers she's gleaned knowledge from then, whether by observation alone or hands-on lessons. Working with the earth like it's something precious and dear from Kirien, malleable like clay, finesse and a sturdier stance from her love Odhranos, S'erok's strength, Dami's lazy but somehow calculated ferocity. ...And perhaps the shape of the 'weapon' she molds from the earth is borrowed from her vampire sibling too. It isn't quite like Hallowed, but it's...vaguely halberd shaped. She vaults herself toward Kasyr, legs straightened and arms pressed to either side of her lengthy frame to limit air resistance as she twists, -catches- the pillar of earth on its side with one splayed hand, then hurls it back down toward her sire the way she might throw down a halberd. The intention isn't to pierce here, but to crush a limb, potentially, and hinder his movement if she can, since death wasn't really an option for either of them here.

Lanlan said to Valrae, "No matter what either of them say...this isn't my fault."

Valrae squints her eyes at Lanlan before looking beyond him, to the still candy coated arena’s center. Her dark eyes return to the drow. “You’re late by a lot actually.” She takes a drink of her beer to punctuate that sentence. It’s around that time Iintahquohae *tosses* Kasyr into the ring. Valrae chokes. Placing the beer down on whatever surface she can find, the witch runs toward the edge of the arena. “What are they doing?” She hisses breathlessly, leaning in close even as an arcane chill blows across her face from Ink’s magic that makes her narrow her watering eyes. She looks back as Lanlan says something to her, her face painted in lines of confusion. “Why would it be your fault?”

Quintessa can’t help the smile that grows on her face as she places a hand upon the podium. “Boys, Girls, Enbies… Can it be? An encore? Sire versus childe, swordsman versus seamstress- This is truly a gift to us all.”

Khitti || Finally, the fight broke out, and Khitt can’t stand it anymore. “YES!” He threw his fists up in the air, his attention remaining glued to the vampires. “See, I get why Khitti decided not to be a vampire anymore, but I envy her that she got to do stuff like this. Just fighting without a care. Beating the hell out of people and not having to worry if she was gonna die from a punch to the head.” He was probably talking to Valrae, but much like dudes and their sports, he was fixed. He did finally notice Lanlan though, and to him he issued a glare. “You’re tempting fate by being here, in this arena, with me. You know that right?” And for the moment, as he was somewhat distracted, Khitt turned then to Quintessa and her spot up in the announcer’s box. “I hope you feel small, and all alone up there, Quintessa. Because that’s what you are, right now, child. Do you even understand what you’ve put Khitti though? DO YOU?! The utter anguish she feels at the mere thought of you?!” He let out a ‘tch’ and offered up an angry frown for the changeling, before returning his sights on the vampires.

Lanlan tries not to look at her as she asks him whatever would make him think he had a hand in this. So they hadn't said anything loud enough for her to hear. Hmmm. "I may have expressed to Iintahquohae my qualms with how viciously Ernest was mangled while he possessed Odhranos's body. She may not have known about it before and was understandably very upset to learn about it..."

Daisy is gonna just chill over here and watch. Pay no attention to the kitten in the corner. Unless someone throws words at her. But that isn't necessary. Carry on!

Valrae as Quintessa’s voice fills the arena, Valrae’s head tilts upward. Her dark eyes search for the other woman, her expression uncharacteristically guarded. Her lips begin to slip into a frown as Khitt’s voice raises. She quickly looks away, some tangled emotion she couldn’t place rising up to crowd her throat. It was Lanlan that pulled her attention away from her own navel gazing, despite the mess the vampires were making in the arena being a larger spectacle. “Lan!” She breathes his name, indignation and surprise flavoring her tone. “Why would you do that?”

Quintessa looks down at Khitt, a twitch in her brow, and it became apparent to her in that moment that she did not feel the same about him as she did Khitti. Not even close. She wants to say something reckless, something awful, but she doesn’t. She merely calls down to him. “I understand, but I also do what’s necessary.” She leaves it at that for now.

Lanlan was purposely avoiding a fight with Khitt and they still decide to threaten him! The archmage! Well some things you just can't avoid no matter what, it seems. "Valrae tell your buffoonish friend to be more respectful or I'll stop being so nice to them all the time." He did look at Valrae now though, as displeasure colors her voice. "Because I'm just as good at dispelling illusions as I am at crafting them. She needed to have hers about her master dispelled...Maybe now yours will too." And he continues watching, but maybe with a lazy eye on Khitt, for now.

Khitti said Lanlan, "You heard what Khitti said. You don't deserve respect yet. Maybe you should work on that, buddy."

Lanlan realizes for certain now that the rumors were true. Quintessa was back on this side of the realms. What did it mean? If she was free of Caluss she would’ve reached out wouldn’t she? Isn’t that what he would’ve done? Maybe not. Walking into a place full of people who know you betrayed them isn’t what most could consider smart. He did it, but he was someone else at the time. “Hmmm.” He says, considering the best way to process this new information. Whatever he decides, it wouldn’t be acted on during the day.

Kasyr offers inks a blank stare, especially given how enthusiastic she'd been about this a moment ago. And really, it wasn't like Daisy was a -stranger- to seeing things like this. She'd known the rest of Coterie. That said, when Inks decides to scoop him up, he can't help but offer up a very pointed, "Really?", even as she hefts his considerable weight around- and then bodies him like a body builder with a sack of potatos. Off he sails, taking another drag of his cigarette mid-air, as though his dignity hadn't taken a slight dent. But then, he's -able- to observe this experience in a disconnected manner- his reflexes and perceptions augmented not only by his nature as a revenant, by the unique twining of Immortal curses which make his bloodline unique- but also by the lightning that's already starting to course through his nerves. He gets the -luxury- of watching candy mountains maimed mounds shifting from Toffee to Tack- it's fluids formed into something that might have made Satoshi smirk. He doesn't even -move- counting on his sheer weight to carry him through the impromptu ice wall in a calamity of obliterated fragments, seemingly heedless of what shallow lacerations struggle to form in his flesh. The only adjustment he makes is to shift the angle of his descent enough that he can come to a stumbling stop on his feet, one hand outstretched to help with the motion- albeit with his back turned to her. And yet, if she's counting on catching him aware, she has another thing coming. Because even as she calls out to the earth, the electricity coursing through his form expands- not in a fury, but in an expansive fizzle, a field of static meant to inform the swordsman of what movements are made within. It's in this manner that he feels Inks ascent into the air, the explosive emergence of her non conductive companion- and her rapid descent towards his position. She was taking this seriously. "I suppose I owe her the same." It's said to noone, a musing that's spoken in the blink of an eye. His cigarettes flicked off to the side, propelled with enough force it starts to obliterate- and yet, he's moving before the tobacco can properly blossom into a stream of smouldering confetti. As inks descends towards his position, one mithril mesh covered hand juts up, the palm of his hand slamming into the blade in order to redirect it away from his position, coaxing into sliding alongside the length of his arm so he could properly grasp the haft, and promptly yank it towards his position in order to hasten her descent towards himself. And more appropriately, towards his awaiting fist- which sails up to catch her in the face with enough force to send her spiraling not just out of the arena, but likely into and through a block's worth of houses. Unlike Larewen, he wasn't about to let a fledgeling trample him in the middle of the streets.

Kasyr, as the cigarette finally has time to finish bursting apart, finally deigns to glance back over towards Valrae and Lan- those calico ears of his twitching at the sound of the mage and his mewlings, "You can fess up, or you're next, Lan."

Quintessa might have a death wish, or perhaps her instinct of self-preservation didn’t quite click right in her head, or maybe she simply felt completely safe in her commentator’s booth- either way, Quintessa is still up there and watching, and occasionally she puts her hand on her podium to amplify her voice, like she does she said calls down to Lanlan. “Yeah, fess up Archmage. I’m curious too. How’d you get that position?”

Valrae could feel herself slipping into some wild, out of control place buried in her chest that her usual control was white knuckling to contain. There was too much happening all at once, too many fractures opening up between people she’d begun to care a great deal about. The anxious, ever eager to please part of herself wished desperately to find some magical arrangement of words that would heal whatever wounds they’d created for each other. There was a decidedly more selfish part of her, an angry part, that wanted to dissolve into hysterics and start throwing her own punches and petty verbal jabs. To join the rest of them in the candy and the muck. “Oh my gods!” She nearly screams, finally at her boiling point. “I’m not standing between you two anymore. I’m Enchantment in this. Neutral. Not. Involved.” The apples of her cheeks were painted pink in the bloom of her anger. “We have enough going on-” Her hands gesture wildly toward where Kasyr and Inks were still trading blow, and then to the air above her, before finally heading in Quintessa’s general direction, “All over the place but somehow you two have the time to bicker like siblings being made to share a sweet. I can’t take it anymore!” She turns heel, the pins in her hair struggling mightily to keep her golden hair in place as she does so, and marches off to find another beer. When Tessa’s voice rings out again, Valrae stops before the fresh beer can meet her lips. “He earned it.” She called out firmly, before challenging, “And what have you done?”

Lanlan said, "I was chosen, of course. Just like Odhranos was." Well not exactly how he was, since his was a more divine appointment. "So if you're saying I don't deserve it, you're saying he didn't either. And he's taken enough of a beating that was neither deserved nor justified, and now he's in a coma from which he may never wake. Let's not add insults to injury, please."

Khitti || Hm. What’s necessary. Khitt was mulling over Quintessa’s words in his mind. He’d heard Kasyr say the same to Inks. It was funny, considering it all. He turned then, his attention on his female counterpart’s daughter, as a hand reached towards his and Khitti’s shared seashell bracelet. He seemed to dwell on something for a moment longer, then smirked at Quintessa. “Then you’ll understand completely. I am doing what is necessary. And what’s necessary is that I set your mother free. Will you be able to look upon her with scorn as you have me?” The smirk turned into a full-fledged toothy grin, one reminiscent of a certain mad feline from that wondrous land Khitti loved to read about. Khitt’s lithe fingers gently tapped the bracelet, activating the spell within, the change from one redhead to another obvious as Brand and Annette’s magic that had been embedded into the bracelet rippled over Khitt, shifting every aspect about him, even his clothes, to that of Quintessa’s mother. Olive-green eyes remained fixed on the changeling throughout the shift, but the emotion behind them changed as well, mischievousness swapped for a torrent of feelings that had gone unspoken to the changeling for some time. “Hello, daughter,” Khitti said, before massive shadowfire balls erupted in her palms and were tossed at the very box Quintessa sat in. “-Run-.”

Quintessa raises a brow at Valrae and instead of using the podium she shouts with her own voice. “I’m earning something else entirely.” She states simply, the true meaning of this statement unknown.

Valrae rolled her eyes at Quintessa, muttering something very impolite underneath her breath, before taking a long, very needed drink. She watched as Khitt became Khitti and fire rolled through the air. She could feel the heat even from her distance. The tension in her shoulders worsened.

Kasyr casually taps his boots against the ground, surrounded by the scent of burnt caramel courtesy of his ambient aura. That, and iron, given that the sanguine dredges of the prior arena match has seeped over to his location, and begun to work it's way into what meager wounds he'd acquired- stitching them together with that stolen vitae. Something which makes his attempt at casually folding his arms behind his head look distinctly morbid, given the blood remains lingering behind him- a curious crimson corona. "She should be done crashing through things now." And then he's gone, a faint outline of sparks occupying the place he'd been in a moment prior.

Lanlan calls to Valrae as she’s walking away. “Don’t turn away from the monster we helped create! We might have to save her. To stop him.” That was a grim thought. And then he follows the trail of destruction left by her body, speeding by, hovering inches off the ground, zooming through the woods propelled by some invisible force. He knew Inks was durable, but he also knew that everyone had a limit to what they could take. He didn’t know when Kasyr would stop, and in his experience, it was only when he had no choice.

Valrae didn’t mind the objections of her guardsmen as she collected her things and rushed after Kasyr. She hadn’t needed Lanlan’s urging, it only made the worry for Inks sink like a stone in her stomach. It might have been a longer journey for the witch, if she hadn’t made a stop by the carriage that still awaited her to grab her broom. She ditched the beer, tossed her bag around her shoulders, and flew off into Vailkrins eternal night. The wind took care of the remaining pins in her hair, leaving the waving gold to tangle wildly around her face as she glided through the night, mindful to keep her skirts down as she went.

All The Way On The Other Side of Vailkrin Now, In The Forest of Abyssal Darkness

Iintahquohae  ;; Now this is the sort of reckless nonsense she missed. Again, emotional whiplash – anger's gone now. Fun is the wrong word for this. Catharsis is so much better. She can smell that all-too familiar scent of ozone that she associates with her sire, and she considers her options on combating whatever he might throw at her when she tries to angle herself into a position to better stick a landing. That landing doesn't come, and instead she hears the sickening crunch of her glasses lenses into her skull as a fist meets her face, and the force is so strong it sends her lanky frame not only skyward again, but -through- buildings. After leaving the arena entirely, her body initially skids over a smaller building's roof tiles, shredding her clothes and inked flesh in the process, then her back slams right through a second story window and out the opposing brick wall in a distinctly Iintahquohae-shaped outline. Her limbs scramble to grab onto something through each building she's thrown through in some feeble effort to slow her down, but fortune isn't on her side in that regard. The fact that her body isn't -broken- from each impact is where her fortune seems to be, now. The force of his punch has her plowing through buildings until she's cleared the city in its entirety, and her body soon sails over darkened trees. Gravity finally steps in and drops her like a dead weight into the forest, with gnarled branches tearing into her shredded clothes and skin even more before she hits the ground in a heap. Black blood drips from her wounds, stains her shredded shirt and the undershirt beneath it, and her leggings as well, but she lets some of it remain on the ground while she pulls herself to her feet. Inks' mind is spinning while she determines her next move. ...Determines her next move? What? She's standing... This is a gift from those foxes. Luck. And, well, her previously untapped elder vampiric strength, more like. Inks had a tendency to forget her durability. Vulpine ears twitch, swiveling on her head in some effort to locate Kasyr's scent or movement even if their bond gave her his general direction to look toward, which she does. Leaning against a tree while gathering herself, she looks down at her hands, permanently stained with dye pigments and now cut up here and there. Nails are broken to the point that some are nastily bent back and bleeding. She tugs a broken twig from a tree she crashed into from her hair and pockets it.

Iintahquohae;; Between her blood on the forest floor and grasping for some idea of a new move, she recalls old memories of this forest, then shouts in Kasyr's general direction. “Remember Redhale, Kas? Serrure?” Necromancers. Another pair of magically-inclined folk Inks was fortunate to learn under. Why is she telling him what she's doing before she does it? Fun – no. Catharsis. Catharsis, remember. An eerie stillness washes over her as she senses, sends feelers out for some of the dead whose bones and bodies were layered in the forest floor. She claps her hands together to create a wave of sound to carry her voice, then emits a deafening and shrill scream intended to rattle and rouse old bones and soak in those drops of her blood on the forest floor. Old bones and what remained of their fleshy parts that begin working their way through compacted earth and forest debris, in varying states of decay and likely not at all intact. She'll be lucky if a single undead or skeleton is roused from that forest in full, but that isn't the point. She wanted bones and old, semi-coagulated blood. Or just disgusting, partially-decayed bodies. Detritus. She'll pull a page from her another vampire sibling, and coax what bits of bone and undead she managed to dredge up to form together into some grotesque mass roughly her height. It's an imperfect, fleshy, bony sphere, and it's on a roll for Kasyr once he's in view. Her fingers splay outward, twisting in gnarled gestures that look like some bastardized version of Drow hand signals. This isn't quite like Svilfon's explosive experiments, but close enough? Debatable. Holy corpse bomb. Sacred gave her a grasp on holy and unholy magic, which she employs here as well. To explode that unholy mass of flesh, blood, and bone, she clasps her hands together as if she were pantomiming closing a book, then fans them open, palms outward as if she were re-opening that book backwards, casting a beam of holy light from her palms toward that necrotic ball to explode it and perhaps harm him, in some way. A vampire using holy magic to hurt her sire seemed pretty stupid. Wouldn't that harm her too? The force of the blast knocks her off of her feet as well, sending her backward through the trees until her back slams against a sturdy tree trunk. She sinks to the forest floor yet again, and tips herself forward onto hands and knees, allowing the blood from her palms to seep into the earth once more. She was a druid once, when her heart still beat. Perhaps she can twist that knowledge with the arcane here, since she doubts she can tap into druidic magic any longer... Dull eyes squint, sensing again, feeling out...Young roots. Younger trees, that she coaxes into to her command, twisting and writhing like worms and snakes beneath the earth. They break through to the surface with her blood skittering across them, hardening and solidifying into those familiar, sharp, black snake scales. Replacement thorns, but decent enough to use as she works those tree roots to act as whips and restraints on Kasyr. A pair of them aim to ensnare him by his waist and squeeze tight enough to rend a person in two, while the others flail wildly to smack at him. Unfortunately, that use of Sacred's scales has her feeling lightheaded, exhausted even, and they flake off of the roots still at work. As they fall to the floor and fade away, Inks falls to the forest floor as well, as if she's gone to sleep, and she has. Kas and anybody that followed might her a swear before sleep claims her.

Lanlan said, "Maybe she'll be fine?"

Kasyr , despite the uncanny alacrity that brought him to the forest, traverses in the wake of broken branches with a certain sense of casualness. It had been a long while since he'd had the opportunity to clash with another coterie member- all the various complications they carried simplified to an exchange of fists, the ring of steel, or an exchange of arcane song. The invocation of Redhale only made tohse memories more pronounced, if only due to the hole left by his eventual dissapearance. "Been a long time, hasn't it?" As the Seamtress weaves together an abomination of bone, the Kensai waits- coaxing a gleaming sliver of his soul-bound steel into existence. As the monstrous mass of magic infused corpses barrels through bushes and tramples over smaller trees, the swordsman draws his sword up- a feral grin creeping over his lips. "Daedria, guide my blade." Which- in any other case would have been an artful solution, because the holy infused blade in tandem with his monstrous strength and speed more then enables him to keenly split the amalgamation in half. What it -doesn't- account for is the secondary burst of holy energy that bursts through one of the still rolling halves- sending a combination of holy energy, concussive force, and shrapnel singing through the air. The latter elements are more of an annoyance then anything- the weight of the trenchcoat allowing him to tuck down and soak the brunt of it, but also serving to keep him closer to the nexus of that burst of 'sacred' energy. The searing of flesh is unexpected, a quirk of her weapon he hadn't experienced first hand til that moment- and one that sees the prior formed corona of crimson now busily working itself out of existence in order to return flesh to exposed musculature. "Ow." Suffice to say, that little display has the swordsman feeling far less charitable when the seamstress follows it up with an onslaught of writhing obsidian tendrils. Once more, lightning twists and licks about Kasyrs limbs- before sinking into his very flesh, converting his form into an ionized shadow of his being, literal lightning, which affords the vines no flesh to gain purchase upon- offering only frustration and fried, frenzied limbs. Something which allows the revenant to close the distance between himself and his fledgeling undeterred so he take hold of her head, even as her eyes close. "Not yet." She's wrenched back up to her feet by her hair, a shock meant to try and center her back in this moment- before his feet begin to move, a tribal beat which accompanies their rapid acceleration through the woods. One which promises to carry her bodily through trees with enough force to clear a fresh path. The goal, this time, is perhaps a bit more malign- given that the Kensai's intends on blazing a trail towards the Dragana estate. It's only when they get close that the rest of his assault is unleashed- a quick burst of electrical energy shoved through her form in order to launch her directly at the Dragana estate and whatever arcane wardings shield that place. Something which is followed up by an invocation of that same electricity- meant to pluck at any residual energy still left in her- if only so he can pull her directly into an oncoming punch meant for her gut.

Valrae seems to have found the pair of battle locked vampires as a blast of holy and unholy magic erupts from somewhere underneath her. The witch shields her eyes in the crook of her elbow, nearly toppled off of her broom as the power rolls through the air. She curses, diving in a controlled spiral towards the forest floor. She stops short enough that her heeled feet can easily reach the ground and slides off of her broom. In the dark she can just make out what she thinks might be Iintahquohae’s form on the ground. She takes a tentative step forward, a small and strangled noise coming from her throat. She stops when Lanlan speaks, turning to him with wide eyes. “Fine?” Her voice was pitched very high as she echoed this incredulously.

Lanlan said to Iintahquohae, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WAKE UP."

Lanlan shrugs as he begins laying preparations to make himself scarce. "Yeah maybe she can beat him in her sleep?" But there's a particular look of dread on his face, of indecision. "What should we do?"

Iintahquohae ;; Sometimes you just need a lil nap in the middle of your big brawl with the big tough revenant man.

Iintahquohae is snoozin' for a bruisin'. ...I'll stop.

Valrae doesn’t know how to answer Lanlan’s question. She’s too busy staring at him in disbelief. What would they do? Would Kasyr kill her? Valrae knew she wouldn’t be able to stop him… Unless maybe she threw her own body over her and… Even then, what if Kasyr was reckless enough to doom all three of them in his anger? Was he angry? She truly couldn’t tell. So, she stands there, mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of confusion and worry and just… Blinks at the drow dumbly.

Lanlan begins making preparations to make himself scarce, there was no telling what further calamities could happen here. "I've seen enough to know how this ends. He doesn't stop until he can't continue." And then he seems to suddenly disappear in a cloud of moths and black dust. But Lanlan can't teleport can he? No, not yet at least. So he's probably still here somewhere, but invisible. And he won't be here for long.

Meanwhile, Back At the Dark Arena

Quintessa ‘s timing was perhaps too perfect, and as some might assume, the changeling was prepared for this moment. Shadowfire rains down on the commentators box, previously invisible runes lighting up to absorb the impact of the spell- but it could only defend against so much. The wrath of a mother was something few things could withstand. The barrier explodes outward with the collected damage from Khitti’s shadow magic, and Quintessa leaps from the balcony after it, riding the force all the way down to the stands. As the changeling straightens up she conjures green flames on her fingertips which rise to encircle her like orbiting moons. “And where can I run that you cannot find me, Mother? Nowhere! So I might as well stand and fight!” Thrusting her hand one of the flaming orbs materializes into a long whip that lashes out in an attempt to grapple Khitti and burn her with the arcane flames.

Khitti growled as Tessa predictably escaped and watched as the changeling descended down to meet Khitti on her level. “Oh? You hid so well with that insect, didn’t you? And then you sent your little minions after me!” She spit on the ground near Tessa’s feet, the firewhip just barely grazing her hair as she shadow-stepped away, shearing a bit of her braid off. “Let me show you the chains of your own making,” she hissed as she reappeared behind the girl, her hands glowing with the light of Vaalane, the very source of her light magic, as she’d recently discovered. Chains of light lashed out at Quintessa from the rainbow-y glow, seeking out her daughter’s wrists. And if she evaded them? Khitti would try to pummel the girl with them at the very least, the light nearly blinding in such a dark place.

Quintessa might try to predict Khitti’s movements in the shadow-realm when Khitti steps using its power, but the changeling was too out-matched. Before she can pivot and meet her mother and mentor head-on Khitti is behind her, the Chains of Vaalane trapping her like she had extended with her green flames. Without her magical gestures continuing the spell she had conjured fades, but she still turns to face her mother, pain in her expression. “Yes, I did. Every waking moment I spent with Caluss is stitched into my mind, you have no idea-” Tears form but Quintessa realizes something and she fights them back. “...Did you like my minions? I have more to introduce you to- Tywyllwch!!” Screaming this magic word causes the entire arena to dim, summoning all the wayward wraiths she had releashed days prior, dozens of them swirling in to assault Khitti as Quintessa remains grappled.

Khitti tried to drag Quintessa towards her, like a fisherman with their catch, giving the girl a few good tugs to try to pull her off balance. Quintessa’s pain and tears twisted at Khitti’s heartstrings and she tried so hard to ignore them. It was easy to, once the wraiths showed up. Shrieks of anger erupted from the redhead as she released one chain, allowing it to dissipate so she could sling balls of that prismatic light at the undead. “You should’ve come to me! How many times have I told you?! HOW MANY TIMES?! Do you think I don’t understand? You know nothing of what I’ve been through?! Do you think I care so little for you that I would not have helped you?!” There’s more angry screaming as she unleashed her fury of light, all the while keeping hold of that one chain. “Do you even understand what you’ve done?!” Khitti thought of the paperwork she’d had stashed away in her desk at the Black Spire, the adoption papers she’d gathered from both Vailkrin and Cenril to finally officially combine their families. She hadn’t opened that drawer since the betrayal. She couldn’t look at them. She wouldn’t.

Quintessa ‘s resolve was crumbling every inch she lost in this tug-of-war, every time Khitti screamed at her that she should have done things differently. It hurt even more because she knew Khitti was right and wanted to tell her, but she knew it was too late now. The wraiths give them a wide berth, knowing to avoid being hit by those chains, lurking just out of reach as Quintessa gets reeled in. “It's always watching me!” She struggles, pulling back without attempting another counter-attack. “It’s watching us right now- I can feel it- I cannot disobey again… I have only one last chance or…” Quintessa plants her feet against the stone and screams at the top of her lungs, her pain, anguish, and guilt transforming into a wave of maleficent energy that rattles against the chains and empowers the wraiths swarming around them. “Let go of me!!”

Khitti || The emotion in Tessa’s screams rattled Khitti to her very core, bringing forth the tears that Khitti had been biting back for the entire duration of their fight. The chains and light fully dissipate, releasing Quintessa, and leaving Khitti defenseless for the moment. She just stood there, staring at the changeling, her tears mingling with her dark makeup, streaking it as they ran down her face. She wanted so much to tell her what the plan was. That they were going to stop Caluss. That they were going to put an end to things. But she didn’t. She knew better. Tessa was right--Caluss was always watching her. Quintessa would just have to suffer for a bit longer until they were ready. And Khitti? She’d suffer on her own as she turned and ran away, shadow-stepping away from her daughter and heading towards the forest where the other fight continued.

00:38:29Quintessa stumbles backwards as the chains break away and her hands instinctively rise in preparation of a defensive spell, but Khitti was already headed away. The voice of Caluss echoes in her mind “Kill her.” but Quintessa shakes her head. “No. Our pact protects my family.” She reminds it before she too shadow-steps out of the arena.

Back In The Dark Forest, At House Dragana’s Mansion

Khitti made it just in time to see Kasyr throw the seamstress literally at Larewen’s house. There’s a strange sort of tug at Khitti’s heartstrings yet again, for the place that had been her first home in this city of darkness. Her tears had already dried up, but the blackened streaks that they left were still there, the evidence of her pain and sorrow made manifest outside of more than just her head. But then she recalled the betrayal that Larewen too had wrought, many times, even after Khitti nearly gave her life for the elder vampire she’d once thought of as a mother. It rekindled her anger, and brought back those tears. How many had betrayed her? So many. Too many to count now. There were only a small handful of those that hadn’t and she did her best to keep them as near as possible so that maybe they wouldn’t join the masses and leave her too. Her fingers curled into fists as her rage started to boil over, black-lacquered nails biting deep into her palms for only a few moments before she was summoning up her light magic and lobbing it at the house, while making sure to stay clear of the vampires. The same angry, yet sorrow-filled screams that had filled the air in the arena, now did so in the forest that once was her only solace in this place.

Kasyr said to Khitti, " Oh. You made it. ...You look like hell."

Valrae watched helplessly as the vampires yet again barreled off into the night. She used her broom to follow them, surprised to find Khitti had beaten her there. She recognized the Dragana estate from the short time she’d stayed there with her ex husband. She remembered a quiet, heavy moment they had shared in the library there, long kisses haloed in the quiet of shelves laden with countless books. She was still in the air on her broom when Khitti threw her first ball of light magic. The blast rocked the home that rose like a tombstone out of the darkness. The witch’s magic illuminated the dark forest before it dimmed to the inevitable fire that began to eat away at the home. It flashed again and again, like little contained strikes of lightning or sunlight. Valrae had never been an empath but she could imagine the pain that was behind the magic that Khitti wielded now and it made her chest ache. She floated toward the ground, the wind lifting the golden strands of hair from her face as she went, but she dared not land yet. There were still two very powerful vampires slapping at each other, and with Khitti in the mix, she did not feel too keen to give up her quickest means of removing herself from harm's way.

Iintahquohae probably would have shouted something like, “Yeah! Years!” at that comment about Redhale, but she's out. Snoozin' on the forest floor, at least until Kasyr lifts her head and wakes her. Her voice is groggy, but she has some awareness of the situation still. Especially after he tugs at her hair. “REALLY?!” Well she's wide awake now, and her body tenses, then violently twists and writhes to get away from that shock that courses through her. “Goddammi- Kas I swea- STOP IT-!” The seamstress doesn't get what she wants, but she's sent flying again, clutching at her stomach and feeling like she might retch all of her insides right out of her mouth. Instead she spits more of that vile, black blood of hers. That's a relief, another blessing from her vampirism but that doesn't change just how painful it feels. She manages to orient herself in the air to see just where her body is being flung to now. The Dragana Estate? The hell is this trip down memory lane? She hasn't been here since...Langley? Since her brief alliance with Lady Larewen? They had plans, then. Lots of plans. Well, it doesn't really matter now. The real question now is, where in the world is she going to land? Whatever magic that estate has to protect it clearly sees Inks electrified form catapulted at it as some kind of threat, so her body meets an unseen barrier midair. One that then proceeds to slam her body right back down to the forest floor, a dreadful noise that's punctuated by a string of the seamstress's swears. She lands on her stomach this time, and feels the handle of something in one of her pockets that managed to survive sharply jab her in the ribs. It isn't that twig she pilfered from one of the trees further south, or one of her wands, but something she now scrambles to her feet to use next. Scramble being the keyword here. That shock has her moving erratically, grey curls partially singed and standing on end, along with her ears and tail. She never bothered much with armor, but thankfully she's still covered where she needs to be. Clothes are burning a little though, and she bats at the sparks skittering across her skin and what remained of her clothing to prevent more damage. Not like it mattered – Inks has gone through the wringer and she's losing this fight, clearly. But she's on her feet, and that's all that matters.

Iintahquohae ;; Now to make Daath a little proud. Her portal-ripping skills weren't quite on par with his, but their history of portal-hopping book exchanges between his study Trist'oth and her home in Cenril was enough for her to understand the workings of a bit of spatiomancy between one end of the forest path from the Dragana estate to another. The thing is, even if Inks wanted to pull a fast one on Kasyr and portal herself directly behind him, she can't do it stealthily. His awareness of her and her awareness of him just make any sort of stealth utterly impossible on her end, as far as she's concerned. She isn't clever enough for it. At this point, she's merely doing it to show off. In fact, Inks actually feebly waves at Kasyr while gathering herself and makes a sort of gesture indicating that one, she wanted him to wait a sec, and two, hey, watch this. A dagger is freed from that somehow intact pocket in her jacket, or rather, the curved handle of one. The blade is missing, but not for long, as the seamstress grasps the weapon by its handle in a firm grip, and punches it into the air to her right. Flickers of light in a myriad of blues and purples emerge into being, twisting upon themselves and rearranging into small sigils, forming the delicate latticework of a luminous dagger's blade. Her arm jerks downward once it's plunged into whatever that space between tangible and intangible might be called, only for an identical tear to be ripped directly behind Kasyr in that motion. She dives in and reappears behind her sire, and as either end of the portal disappear, she grabs hold of Kasyr again by his shoulders, this time with the intention of pinning him to the nearest tree trunk she can find. Nothing personal, Kas. Her palms burn white hot – a purging, cleansing flame, not with the intention to burn her sire but to set his jacket ablaze, and if she get that heat in her palms hot enough, melt some of the plating and mithril he's working with too. Melting metal is highly unlikely, but hopefully her bare hands are touching it just in case Kas decides to shock her again, so maybe she can use his shock on him in some horrible circuit. She grits her teeth, wincing at the pain of glasses lenses still crushed into one side of her head, and the sheer amount of cuts and bruising she's endured from the arena 'til now. “I can't die, Kas. Remember?” An old joke from when she was mortal, hopefully something that might elicit a smile from the revenant. “Too lucky.” Inks can hit a wall though, and judging by her panting she's just about there. Her frame is tense, not quite prepared for what Kasyr will do next, but prepared to be thrown across Vailkrin some more. That pyromancy she's working is getting a little too hot and people nearby might catch a whiff of burning leaves and other forest debris at her feet.

Khitti || Kasyr would notice her and Khitti would say nothing. Valrae would watch her as Khitti destroyed the house and she could not stop her tears. Things would be so different if not for the betrayal, towards her, her family, and apparently even her ancestors too. She put her hands together, light and dark energy forming there, warring with each other, just like her mind and heart warred against one another. The two magicks swirled and sparked and grew and grew until Khitti could barely control the orb that was conjured. She threw it, like some massive, explode-y beach ball, right at the house, letting the opposite forces connect and eventually blow up, in much the same way she’d blown Haladavar to bits. She trusted the vampires to get out of the way. Khitti turned then and walked outside the gate that surrounded House Dragana’s property, closed it behind her, and sank to the ground. The redhead stared off at nothingness in the forest beyond the house, her line of sight roaming over the twisted gnarled trees that once brought her joy. And they still did, somewhere inside her, but it wasn’t enough at the moment to overcome all the emotions she was forced to feel that night.

Valrae watched as Khitti reigned destruction down on House Dragana, lips bowed into a frown, knuckles white as she gripped her broom. She could feel the heat from Iintahquohae’s magic rolling along her skin, mingling with the fire that had begun to consume the estate. Idly, in some very distant part of her mind, she mourned the loss of whatever books might have reminded in that library she’d seen. She pulls herself higher on her broom, angling away from the heat that had begun to lift her hair as sweat glistened like a crown of jewels in the firelight as it beaded on her temples. She floated there until Khitti moved away. The witch followed, swooping low and gliding to a graceful stop as her feet touched the ground. She stepped down delicately, calling Khitti’s name softly as she neared. Whatever madness Kasyr had in mind for Inks, she would have to trust him not to end her now. “I…” What could she say to her hurting friend? Valrae could find no words of comfort. So, with nothing to be said, she sits down on the ground beside her. Facing the still battling vampires and the burning estate, Valrae presses her shoulder into Khitti’s own and just… Sits by her. For as long as she needed.

Khitti just buried her face into Valrae’s shoulder and cried. Pretty much for the rest of the duration of the vampire fight. After they were done, she’d likely scout out the remains of the house to see if anything… well… remained.

Kasyr should be fast enough to evade- by all accounts, he'd have every opportunity to move, given the fanfare that the seamstress engages in her ensuing attack. But whilst there's nothing new to glean from her creation of a weapon, save for some differences in the process of essentially forming a weapon from the aether- her ensuing action is -rich- with possibilities. By his very nature of a Kensai, he finds himself greedily observing the process- intuiting the mechanisms which compose that dissection of reality- the weaponized parting of space. It keeps him rooted, even as some segment of his mind screams at him to move. It's only when she grabs hold of him and starts trying to cook him that he finally stirs to action. Specifically, his mind hones in on a spot on the ground- thoughts becoming as keen as the blade which materializes between them, and embeds itself in the ground. "Then I don't have to worry." Without another word, the Kensai's blade spell mimicry takes effect a similar gash in space forming beneath his feet- dragging him down into a hastily created void- and leaving her holding a scorching coat. Perhaps, even, the hole might start to tip her forward- though the real danger is the twin hole which has been sheared open directly above her, allowing the Kensai to slip back into existance, one elbow poised to slam down into her skull, and send her tumbling into that hole. A plan which- maybe isn't the best thought out, given it's going to send them spilling through an awkward portal loop, gradually accelerating as they'd continuously tumble between the pair. That is- until the Kensai gets his bearings enough to open a fresh rift in the midst of the dragana rift, meant to send Inks firing through it like a human cannonball- before it's twin pokes up on the outskirts- so the Kensai can simply fire into the barrier, and punch through it in an attempt to slow his own momentum. It -arguably- works. It still does nothing to prevent him skidding through a series of trees, likely to the disgruntlement of the homicidal dryad that lurks those woods. "Well, I feel better."

Iintahquohae may be taller than Kasyr, but she's permanently a twig and that makes her light. Her build was lanky and a bit gaunt as a mortal due to an unresolved, unhealthy relationship with food and she's remained that way ever since, so when she leans into her sire and in essence crumbles so her head can borrow his shoulder for a headrest, it's likely nothing the shorter vampire can't handle. There's a lot she's missed between the arena and now, but she catches the scents of others – Valrae, Lanlan, Khitt... And she's a little disoriented. They had an audience for this? Strange, but what wasn't strange, lately? She's gone off the deep end over her dead terramancer, world's probably gonna have another near miss with going down in flames again. And these ridiculous fox-appendages she's acquired. Why does it suddenly smell like burning -everywhere-? Her eyes focus on Kasyr, and she tries to grin through the unpleasant feeling of her split lip. What else can she say? She needs blood and a nap. Probably a couple drinks, hell, maybe she'll try bumming one of his smokes even if she hated the habit more than anything. Makes your clothes stink, you know? “Wanna go back to the cast-” Well, so much for calling the rest of their brawl quits, because he's no longer in her hold. She tosses the smoldering jacket to the side, and in that distraction she's punched into the most disorienting portal loop she's ever endured. The momentum gathered in that loop has her feeling dizzy, out of sorts, and utterly confused until she's spat back out with a speed that likely matched when he punched her across Vailkrin, and she finds herself thrown yet again to the ground...Gods, she doesn't even know where nor does she care at this point, in yet another unpleasant heap. “...Castle?” She grunts, finishing her sentence. Then Inks tries to blindly feel around for wherever Kasyr is, if he's even near enough, for some help up because she can only get knocked down and back up again so many times before her body says no.

Valrae sat still and reached out to touch the length of Khitti’s braid, just once, in an effort to comfort her as she cried. And she waited, until her sorrow had run dry, for now… She didn’t understand the scene that played out before her. It moved too fast, there were too many long and deep shadows in the darkness and firelight. Her eyes were only human. But she witnessed, and she waited. The night had been heavy with violence, in fighting and now grief. Even with the impressive display of Khitti, Kasyr and Iintahquohae, there was a part of the witch that wondered if the power here would be enough to end Caluss’s ever looming threat. They were destructive, sure, but this destruction had been turned in on themselves like a twisted ouroboros. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this infighting and petty back and forth was a great, ever growing chasm of weakness in them all. Some great failing that mortals could not shake, could no longer afford. It was this twisted, dark worm of doubt that devoured the aching center of her chest as she flew through the night and let her broom carry her back to the warm shores of Cenril.

Kasyr isn't ignorant to the grief that wracks Khitti, the sorrow and anxiety that seems to swallow Valrae- but he has no words in that moment, because a savage joy still burdgeons in his chest. For the first time in a long while, a certain sense of emptiness felt fulfilled- a recklessness sated, leaving him to bask fondly in the aftermath. Though, once Valrae starts to gather herself to depart, the Kensai does feel it necessary to state, "I wouldn't be concerned for her- I'm going to make sure she recovers. That said, given that Lanlan -omitted- telling her that Odhranos was possessed, Well- let's say he's doing an admirable job at fostering my animosity- when he ought to aspire towards being -nothing- to me." That's it, that's all he has to say. She can mull on the rest as she likes, but there's little more left to be said. As for Khitti and her quest for knowledge- the Kensais more than willing to expedite her endeavours, by very haphazardly hacking a portal to a spot he's intimately familiar with, and altogether proximal. ...It takes a few times, really, given figuring out the necessary amount of power needed for opening a rift into the throne room- but it's really not long until he can essentially dump scattered debris, books, and entire -shelves- straight into the room- much to the distress of the guards within. "I'll be holding onto these until you're in shape to collect them, though you may follow if you so desire." There's the start of a protest from the other side of the rift, one which is quickly quelled by a flood of black miasma which seeps out from the swordsman. "I'm coming through." A pause, and he steps over to inks, and hefts her up and over his shoulder- something made akward by her overall lankiness. "...So's she. Merci. And prepare some food, s'il te plait." Screw Decorum- he'd worked up an appetite. Though- maybe he wasn't quite done. Before he fully steps through the portal- he pauses- just long enough to give the ruins of House Dragana a good long look. With a snap of his fingers, a series of sparks dance out from his fingers, setting down over various spots of the building. Beacons of sorts, as the air gains a palpable charge- all to herald one massive bolt of lightning to finish the job Khitti had started- and to remove the final traces of the building, leaving a gaping crater of scorched earth in it's wake. Tomorrow, he'd venture off to put on the finishing touch- a little sign that says, "Crater For Rent ~Love, The Management".

The Aftermath At The Dark Forest Deadfall, Formerly Known As The Dragana Mansion

Once, a massive estate stood here, towering over the twisted treetops which populate the forest. What's taken it's place is a blackened crater which delves into the ground, as though the heavens sought to scorch all evidence of this place. Already, the woods encroach upon this place, twisting limbs arching over the crevice as though they seek to erase the lingering evidence of civilizations' attempt at conquering this place. Though, given the chittering that emanates from within the trees- it's possible they may have more malign intentions, obfuscating where the drop begins in order to feed the soil with the fresh blood of the fallen.

A tilted Sign that says "Crater For Rent ~Love, The Management" is here.