Vytal felt utterly spent. Most Witches and Warlocks might call upon the spirits or the natural world to take the burden of power to spare them the exhaustion others like Sith or Jedi might suffer. Sadly, she did not have that luxury; nor had she the benefit of the Fates to form a circle to help bear the load. Even Pom or other Mandragora could work, though they might not be skilled in the art -- she hardly knew the skill set of either. Even dear Pom had been absent some time, and things may have changed since they last giggled about a fire.
So when Hevn began to shout -- to
rave -- about the illusion of safety, delusions they told themselves, how he felt
so slighted and put upon by Pom and herself, Vytal sighed. Then he cursed the Beyond; his words challenging the great spirits of the cosmos. A defiant metaphysical fist shaken. A gauntlet thrown. Boasting of how
he brought low the most powerful in all of creation. That Hevn should reign supreme over them. Such vitriol. Such spite. The pale woman's eyelids fell over her eyes as the words washed over her.
Despite his cry for the Nightsister before him to look upon Hevn 'in full,' however, Vytal did not turn. Aside from the sigh and closing of her eyes, she had not moved at all. Her back was to him, and head turned a bit to the right to indicate her attention was with him regardless. In that moment, as the man ranted and fumed, Hevn's intended audience was in fact not even present. His words had reached her. They had reached through her. And she had only patiently awaited the man to pause for breath...
Slowly Vytal's right foot slid behind her left leg and the pale woman turned to face Hevn. As her face aligned with his own, Vytal's pale lids rose once more to reveal a burning sea of green.
Those that had come to help found themselves shunted to the hallway nearby -- the one Vytal herself had arrived through by closet-portal in fact -- rather than within the heart of the hanger where Hevn and Vytal stood. Surely they would be mildly confused at how inaccurate their spell had been, but it would not take more than a few seconds for them to determine why it had gone awry. There was no failure on their part. Something else had simply denied them the right to enter the field of metaphysical and philosophical battle they'd come to support the Nightsister on.
A sudden burst of pressure shot out from the Nightsister that stared into the monstrous man before her. Overhead green flame seemed to ravenously spread across the ceiling until it struck the walls. Soon the two firestorms collided and twisted about one another in a silent dance vying for domination.
"Your hollow words say nothing I have not already heard countless times before," Vytal's voice declared in a lower tone than Hevn had ever heard before. Having listened to ever word, if Hevn attempted to move from where he'd taken root the woman before him would make sure magick would hold him fast until
she said her peace.
"You speak of illusions, ignoring those you dine on daily. There is no safety except that we provide for one another; for when you are in my presence you are far safer than alone in the cold, dark of space."
"I do not need to look around me to know the truth, Bedrovelse Hevn -- as you know your self. The truth is made clear to me all ready. You demand to be accepted, but refuse when it is offered. You seek knowledge, but refute an endless supply of it. You need release, but only strive to bask in the self-pity and hatred of the long and silent road. And now I will demonstrate the power of the divinity you hold in such low esteem. I will give you back the control you cherish and cannot see has been robbed of you." Vytal's right hand lifted before her, the tips of her fingers pointed at Hevn's chest.
"Let us see whether Hate alone fuels you now." A low tremble had begun to vibrate throughout the hanger facility. When Vytal's fingers flew open there was a cloud, simultaneous clang of numerous metal parts being rising and falling as one, sharp jolt rippled outward; and in that moment a surge of magickal power shot through Hevn to tear the hooks free of his mind that had been planted there by the enemy. All around them the green flames green in intensity and volume. They rose over the red and crashed down upon them as tidal waves in the wake of a deep quake.
If the ensnaring rage trap left by the cultists was purged, so too would the consuming green flames go with it. The moment they departed, Vytal's form collapsed as a marionette's strings being severed. Not a sound fell from her lips, nor a movement made to catch herself. The pale Witch lay motionless on the floor with all the magick in the hanger washed away leaving only the background 'hum' of the Mandragora's own net of spells nearby.
In that moment those that had come to aid Vytal could reenter the hanger once more as no barrier barred their entry any longer.
Tag: [member="Pom Stych Tivé"] | [member="Bedrovelse Hevn"]