With ravenous eyes, the Flareon PokeSoul pushed Elliott and Kieran through the door! It may have been the fluffy comment or the Xena warrior princess one; either way, the delighted creature beamed with excitement because the boy recognized its odd antics. The door all but sucked them through, and when they entered into a new room, an odd vortex swirled at that point and swallowed away the door entirely. A rattle resonated on a dusty plain as the door knob dropped to the cracked ground; the LED light from the other side above the frame broke, glass bits scattered across the floor. With vibrant eyes, the Flareon PokeSoult turned towards them. A symphony of pipes above them screamed, sizzling with the daylight that blasted forth from above. For as far as the eye could see, arid plains stretched, dried to the bone from the sun above. And in that permanent daylight, the words visible on their cards glared back up at them…
Green Card:
Should you seek the safe return of your life to the Surface,
Lest scars forever zip shut your mouth
Perform a great service for yourself:
Satch the Blue card and go South!
Blue Card:
What a curious incident
Should you seek your body never to be morphed
A result that would be surely imminent
Seize the Green Card and run North!
A creature roared.
The Vaporeon and Jotleon PokeSoul watched the conflict unfurling between the woman and the child with empathetic eyes. Their smiles of victory faded into frowns as they reached out to Avignon and Cam, their webbed arms slicing through the thin air to grasp at nothing. Their mouths curved into soft O, their whole bodies fluctuating with the motions of sadness and forgiveness. The Jolteon PokeSoul’s jealousy evaporated in what she saw before her, but she quickly became distracted by Ulrik’s words. Splitting up, tarot cards… these words sunk deep into the eon sibling’s memories, activating a panic which spread to every synapse. They jumped in the air, their arms flung, their faces contorting with the expression!
Too quick for comfort, the room was blasted with light! A flash of lightning not of the Jolteon PokeSoul’s creation slapped the sky, followed by the thunderclaps that belonged to a mad beast. The Vaporeon PokeSoul swung around, and in that single fluid motion replaced her makeshift Ringmaster costume with the leotard she donned earlier. The time for charades and shows ended. A new chapter followed: one in which the eon siblings were not prepared for as they panicked, trying with all their wildest gesticulations to force their audience as far away as possible. Two tiny points on their webbed palms flared to life, pinching up the nerves from within them as a transformation began to take place -
In Kieran and Elliott’s dustbowl, another roar surged towards them! The Flareon PokeSoul whipped her blonde mane about her. Reveling in the sunshine was quickly replaced by the anxiety gnawing at her every organ, inching through her from the inside. The sunshine pounded down upon her as two roars erupted from the sky, incessant. She had no time to process the pain imploding from her palms as two shadows leapt before the trio remaining. She screamed into an audio vacuum; for her vocal chords had been snipped long ago, memories that trickled within her as the pain in her palms exploded. She could do nothing to scream at her audience, to tell Kieran and Elliott to flee -
For the next second, two twin creatures of the underworld lurched forth. Flashes of molten orange and yellow smattered across her vision as the two mighty Pyroar snapped for their necks! The Flareon PokeSoul fell to her knees, holding her palms far away from her hand, her body composed of flame and aftershock. Only a few seconds arose before she stilled. The being that arose to its feet was not of the same Soul which had entertained them, doted upon them, eagerly pushed them into this room for its next adventure. Rather, the sentient destroyer who emerged only sharpened elongated nails upon one another. The Pyroar rolled out before her, the vacant expression in their eyes now dead as the Flareon PokeSoul’s own eyes were. Without another second remaining, the trio pounced upon Elliott and Kieran -
A Minotaur emerged before Avignon, Ulrik, and Cam, with eyes enough to end the world. The mutated Tauros landed from the sky, leaving indentations with hooves each weighing a ton. On haunches of steel muscles it arose, crossing its arms, smoke flaring out from a nostril pierced with an ancient golden ring. Curved horns sliced through the sky, their points pulsating with obsidian light. The monster dropped onto all fours, digging its right hoof into the ground as its mighty head thrashed back and forth, clouds of smoke blown through its nostrils.
The Jolteon and Vaporeon, only half as tall as its leg, changed in the span of those brief seconds. Panicked motion had been replaced by a serenity so surreal they may have no longer been of the living. The two beings who emerged eyed their audience before them, their scales glistening in response to the beast’s eyes above them. With one fluid movement, they arched their necks forwards and pulled swords from their throats. They twirled the hilts, unnatural in their webbed hands, with grace as they bent their knees. The minotaur’s digging accelerated until the beast charged, rushing forth with the two eon siblings in tow.
Elliott's ears strained in the darkness, trying to find out who was saying what, but unfortunately his body wasn't trying to hold any ground at all. With a rush of air and a yelp he found himself bodily shoved through the door in a tangle of limbs and fluff.
With a thump and a small cloud of dust, Elliott had landed on his butt in an entirely new environment. His eyes temporarily screeched in pain as the wide-open pupils adjusted from pitch black to burning sunshine, and he squinted, covering his face with his hand and looking back towards the door.
It promptly was sucked into a vortex.
"What is this, a football game now? Gave up on charades and opted to just push us along?" He grumbled at the flareon, standing up and dusting himself off. He glanced at Kieran, then back at where the door was. "Also hey where are the others? And where did the door go?" He bent down, trying to scoop up the shards of glass from the exit sign, wondering if it was all just an illusion. The broken glass seemed to remind him of his other little sharp implement, and he gingerly took out the card he had been given. The words glared out at him.
He looked up at the sky, seeming to shrivel a little bit in the tree-less sunshine. "Is this supposed to be some sorta interacting desert scene?"
His voice seemed very small and thin in the big dry expanse.
And something roared.
"H-hey Kieran, I think my card wants me to have your card?" He tried making conversation, and laughed weakly " Also I think my card has a spelling error? Satch? But I guess Dolores can't be perfect at everything"
He shuffled a little closer to the other adventurer, holding his card out clearly. "Just so we're clear, I'm not super keen on heading off alone to fulfill the card thing- even though this might be a great joke and all, and also like, maybe we got the cards mixed up from the beginning? Maybe you were meant to have the green one?" Elliott used the tip of his card to scratch his head in confusion.
The roars sounded again and Elliott shuffled away from the noise, his foot bumping into the doorknob on the ground.
He looked wildly around, noticing the flareon-creature collapse in pain, and then stand up again. It had a rather different look in its eyes now. "F-fire lions??" Clearly this was a pokemon the boy had never seen.
Apart from the audience getting rather rowdy- for lack of a better term- this sinister circus wasn’t that bad at all. A little freaky, a little unsettling of course, but as he’d found himself thinking previously, Kieran was pleasantly surprised. Heck, even Ardent had settled down, and returned to his usual stoic silence. While no communication had occurred between them on the matter, he shared Elliot’s sentiments of hanging around at a haunted house attraction. It was the little things like that which comforted him, making him long for the life he used to have. Just like a fun haunted house, he confirmed. Aside from the redhead that looked ready to tear up the place. Things had now simmered down to just words, and to avoid kicking off another fight he wouldn’t get himself involved unless more sounds of distress arose. He may not have been the most socially adept of individuals, but he knew the more people that got in the face of someone confrontational like that, well… the more agitated they would become.
Speaking of agitated, he suddenly got the impression that their otherworldly hosts couldn’t were feeling upstaged by the confrontation. And it didn’t seem to please them very much in the least. He’d just turned his back on the group to follow the gesturing of his water type host when the big top was plunged into darkness again. Soon afterwards the room is illuminated in a burst, forcing Kieran to shield his eyes for a brief moment. When his vision clears, he spies his silent ‘guide’ in the center ring, being stared down by another of its kind; none other than the Jolteon. He’d seen that look mere moments before: it was the way the sword toting, cinder haired sourpuss looked at each of them. This was different however. It was playful, flashy. It was a performance. To balance and to fight like that, even when playing dead, Kieran had to admit, it was impressive. So he gave them what they deserved. Slowly from where he stood, he clapped his hands together, giving applauding them. The sound of another voice caught Kieran’s attention, and he parted his hands, wheeling around to address the man who’d spoken to him. He recognized it as the elder gentlemen who’d been cautioned against trusting. He’d yet to speak to him, but Kieran at least knew his voice. “I mean. I don’t see any harm in it.” Kieran replied with regards to splitting up. “But then again..” he trailed off. Even if the circus wasn’t dangerous, the woman with the sword certainly was. And if people were frightened, maybe he could help by putting them at ease. If only he knew how wrong he was to say that. If only the could help being separated. “My card?” He repeated, bringing the blue card over in front of him and turning it over once again. Before he could however, he let out a soft cry of surprise as he was suddenly pushed. “Whoa, easy there!” He spoke, eyes trained on the Flareon creature, only to be gently shoved again. “Hey come on, I wanted to see the acts.” He protested. These proved to be his last words before he was propelled through the door at his back alongside Elliot. And just like that, somewhere new. Neither the confines of the tent, nor the dreary backdrop of the swamp. Somewhere with the sun beating down and plains all around. How did they get a door to lead here? ...Scratch that. How did they get a door to up and vanish like that? The sun glinted off of the dislodged doorknob, but also off of something in his hand. It was the card, the light catching his attention away from the now useless piece of metal. “The fortune reveals itself.” He mused, taking a moment to look it over. It was only as he read that he finally heard the already familiar sound of Elliot’s voice… preceded by something else entirely: a roar which made him jump. “Yeah?” He acknowledged the other. “And mine seems to want yours. But uh… unless that was special effects, I think we’ve got something else to worry about.” Once more the Chesnaught soul within his mind gave a rumble, the sound nearly echoing the roars that had sounded moments before. The moment of dropping his guard seemed to have turned out poorly, Argent mentally informed his partner. Nothing for it but to prepare for trouble. He didn’t even get a chance to check on the fire type host that he’d been handed off to as two shadows were beset upon them, and he had the sinking feeling that their host was about to join them. ...And make it double. “Those don’t look like circus lions…” He muttered, not that playing captain obvious would help here. Feral Pokemon, but there was something off about these. He never liked playing with fire, especially after being joined by Argent. “Get behind me. Look for an opening, then we’ll run.” He instructed, suddenly all business. He was made of rather tough stuff thanks to Argent, but fangs and claws like that would still deal considerable damage. As far as he knew, what he felt, it was better that he take a blow than Elliot. With a clenched fist, the hairs on his arms rolled up into several sharp green needles, standing on end as Kieran lowered his stance in contrast to raising his fists like a boxer- though someone like Ulrik could probably find a dozen details off with his positioning. Call it unwise, foolish, suicidal but something had to be done. They wouldn’t outrun foes like these. He knew full well he couldn’t take the three of them so handily just standing his ground. As the two pounced, Kieran pushed his feet into the dusty earth, propelling himself back. Now was the time for reacting, not thinking. Narrowly escaping the brunt of the assault- he’d have to live with the claws grazing his leg- Kieran then lurched himself forward. Right back into the fray he went, lashing his fist out with the strength befitting a common fighting-type, aiming to knock the wind out of a foe with a needle-infused blow to the torso. So much for a haunted fun house.
Word Count: 1049
O.O.C: Whew. Playing catch up gets wordy. And no worries everyone. I should be thanking you all for putting with up with my delay. I think I technically went over the two week grace period.
Stoic woman casts a glance over her shoulder at the way the child burns with shame. Good. Abominations such as she and the rest deserved no pride, no place to call their own. Perhaps once upon a time, she might have seen the youth as an innocent snared in a war, a soul torn asunder by a choice not her own, but now she sees even the tiniest being as a threat--and after seeing that bird beneath her command, Avignon's guard is now irreversibly raised. Shift of her gaze flicks back once more at the sound of scraping metal, alarmed, but she sees only the threatening steel avian retreating into the small space of a palm, practically disappearing.
Lip curls back in disgust. Of all the creatures that had to have the power to bend space and re-purpose metal at whim, it had to be them and their beastly counterparts. To see all of humanity's advancements crumble to dust, to see that one power they'd earned be ripped from their kind and so casually used... it still struck her the once-patriotic woman with the weight of it. To think that they'd come so far. To think of where they'd be now if it weren't for the meteor that had struck, the beasts that had invaded. She forces her eyes--and her thoughts--away.
But of course, they're dragged back by a voice that peals out behind her. Avignon whirls, sword held back and at her side but still very ready, cold stare honing in on the metal-adorned kid. At least she gives Avignon permission to ignore her. She can't ignore the threat that's given, no matter how coyly it's offered. Derisive snort bursts from her nostrils.
"Tell your bird he'll eat his damn words before he touches the Transistor and I," she snaps, and then turns back toward the door that's already gone. But in its place are the two performers in blue and in gold, and in the echoes of one of the other's strangers words, she witnesses it. Illumination floods everything and suddenly it's just them three in the brightness of it all.. She covers her eyes, squints through gaps in curled fingers, and vaguely sees the blurred shapes of the two figures frantically waving their arms.
"What the--" she tries to exclaim, stumbling back--and just in time as the giant form crashes from the sky. Brilliant blue orbs trail up and up and up at the massive minotaur that has appeared before them, and then flicks back down at the two transformed PokeSouls beside it, their panic replaced by calm as they pull weapons from their throats. A part of her is fearful, but the other is excited, opportunistic. She and the girl were the most well-equipped. Avignon's surely the other will die unprepared in the scuffle. Winner takes all. If she leaves the minotaur alive long enough, it'll be easy to turn it upon the others--easy parts.
Sharp, analytic glance takes stock.
She twists both syringe chambers one step closer. The red, bloody eye of the Transistor begins to hum with glee, its crimson glow brightening, sending a brief ripple of white light up through the circuitry embedded in crystalline blue bulk. "I'll take the big guy," she decides. Her own chances will be scarce if it kills the other two before they can take out at least one of the smaller ones, so she just needed to slow and distract it for long enough to get it to do her dirty work for her.
Tall body dips forward suddenly into a controlled sprint. Boots thunder upon the earth. Sword swings out as she charges. A few yards away, she suddenly disappears from in front of the minotaur, blinking from existence and then reappearing behind it. She seeks to swing weighted end of the sword into the back of the beast's right ankle, trying to use the surprise of her teleportation to get in a hit. She seeks to try to smash its ankle with the blow, or at least hit a nerve that'll cause it to stumble for a moment to buy her some time. Eyes remain attentive on all of their opponents, hoping that the other two deal with the two smaller ones before they can turn upon her.
Last edited by K'sariya; 07-03-17 at 01:12 PM.
Reason: Forgot a [
"Wingnut doesn't really eat words," Cam began, still stumbling over what possible way she could try to make this woman actually like her. Funny motif, that one. "He eats engine oil and little bits of solder and sometimes he eats my dessert when I'm not looking, but I don't think words are very healthy." Her voice lowered into a conspiratorial whisper. "I dunno if you can tell because he's such a good-looking bird, but he's not biological at all; he's a robot and--"
The Minotaur emerges, like nothing Cam had ever seen before. She'd peeked beyond the walls; she'd seen all sorts of Pokemon; she knew what the world is like, but this screamed of something more, something not of this world. She recognized the Tauros bits, but in the same way that the circus glowed with an unearthly energy, this one did as well -- but it spelled something far more sinister. The smoke and fire were only the beginning; there was more to this monster than met the eye. Distracted by the first appearance, Cam almost missed the rippling transformation that wracked the two performing siblings, smiles traded for swords!
That seemed... rude.
Cam's eyes narrowed as the battlefield expanded from just her and the red-headed woman to the their new opponents. Their was a lot more at play all of a sudden, and she wasn't sure how to properly reconcile this.
She may have a common enemy with us, but you mustn't get close, Wingnut warned her quietly. She will gut us the second she has a chance. Any of us, actually.
"I know," Cam whispered back, hefting her arm in preparation as she watched the woman blur by, a mixture of grace and power as she lofted the sword from her back and prepared to strike. Part of her was still wrapped up in how freaking epic that whole thing was, and how they really could talk about cool things once they were done with this little spell of being angry at each other for reasons, but-- "Are you ready for another fight?"
She hastily scribbled a mental note to give Wingnut some better defensive capabilities. He was really, really good at beating things up, but she honestly didn't know how well they could help anyone else if their attackers turned on the rest of the group, who all looked like this was the first time in their life staring a monster in the face. Cam knew what to do in situations like this. She'd seen Mom do it a dozen times before, but that didn't make it any easier.
It was time to be a bigger target.
She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath, and then squared her shoulders. Three firm steps took her firmly in front of Ulrik. Another one had her planted in front of her, legs tensed. Wingnut erupted once more, flapping by her shoulder, gnarled beak spreading open in a battle cry, wings expanding like shields. "If you can't fight well, stay behind me. Wingnut will draw fire, and I'll handle the rest. If you have any idea about what's going on, now would be a great time to say it."
She didn't really want to fight the performing siblings; they seemed pretty interesting and probably weren't a threat except for when they were charging with swords that they'd pulled from their necks wow that was awesome--
I will stay between the performers and her, Wingnut said testily, his beady eyes making much more sense of the battlefield than Cam had.
To protect her? The woman, unlike everyone else in the room, seemed to know exactly what she was doing.
To protect them, Wingnut replied, and then launched himself into the fray, cutting through the air. Wings arced sideways as he tilted close to the ground, gathering speed. The bird, like his master, didn't know entirely how to read this situation, but he couldn't let him hold them in check. His goal was straightforward enough: to fend the two siblings off of the sword-wielder, and then to assess their intentions. They had gone from friendly to enemies far too quickly; if something ailed them, he and the Maker would help. And if they had been duplicitous all along... well, he knew how to deal with that as well.
Time flipped forward on high-speed, a trick twisted forth from the darkest place of this Circus. Pyroar lurched forth, narrowly avoiding sinking teeth like hunting knives deep into Elliott or Kieran. Instead, the Chesnaught PokeSoul’s needle-infused fist smashed into the torso of the male Pyroar, its wild mane an implosion of red and orange. The Pokemon roared as it flailed backwards, paws swinging violently in the air, hoping to catch onto anything and set it afire with the fury of agony alone. The other Pyroar sniffed at its fallen comrade, lips pulled back to the gums as it pawed at the hunted flesh. A split second later, a snarl as cracked and wide as a scar ripped from the beast, puncturing through the sunshine. The female Pyroar began charging right for Elliott!
The Flareon PokeSoul clutched a hand to the back of her head, wincing with pain, her eyes otherwise unchanged. A moment passed as she trembled, seemingly conflicted with something. Eyes briefly flashed towards the fallen Pyroar, who attempted to paw away the needles jutting from its chest with limbs like bludgeons, far too big to ever hope to catch each sharpened bit lodged deep into its chest. Blood seeped from the edges, a hundred red dots expanding evermore. The Flareon PokeSoul faltered, but stopped immediately as a voice began speaking.
“An interacting desert? You must be warned that we’re not acting here!” A sinister voice pulsated directly in the minds of those it spoke to, frivolous. Light, daunting, its tone fluctuating for nearly every word. “But we hope to entertain you for every single moment. Here, in our dear Circus!”
The Flareon PokeSoul swung her sword towards Kieran, her body launched through the air.
On the other side, the Minotaur roared with a vibration enough to break the world in two. The Transistor surged with blood, seemingly an extension of the body belonging to the woman who sprinted forth, brave enough to take the monstrosity full-on. The echoes of her footsteps resounded in the small brain of the Minotaur, who flared its nostrils as she approached, her form tiny, tracked between the eyes of the enormous creature. The Minotaur began moving, tons of muscles carried forth like a miracle, its mighty front two hooves digging deep impressions into the ground like individual craters -
And then she disappeared! The Minotaur swung its head around, the golden ring pierced through its nostrils dicing through the air. Confusion swam through its head, followed by the distant relative of pain, and then, most of all, anger. The mutated Pokemon roared, finally registering the blood that gushed forth from the cut on its back right ankle. A stream of fire poured forth from its throat in the same second, eyes bursting with flame, veins nearly popped as its fury summoned a storm.
Then a rampage began.
The Minotaur charged forth, spewing its flame, thrashing its body towards the walls, closer towards the living entities down below! The Vaporeon and Jolteon PokeSouls huddled together for the briefest of moments, covering themselves against the fire. Then their facades returned, sharpened into warrior instinct as Wingnut approached, low to the ground, a masterwork of machinery and war. They twirled their swords against one another before guarding one anothers’ back and murmuring deep to their weapons. Suddenly, a tri-colored flame coated their swords, which they began to toss towards Wingnut!
“What teamwork! You’ll become the Circus’ best act by far!” the same voice rolled out, words like thunder across a darkening sky.
"An opening to where?!?" Elliott wailed in response to Kierans instructions, reeling backlwards and falling over as he lurched to avoid the swiping claws of a pyroar. It may not have been as graceful or purposeful as Kieran, but the caterpie pokesoul relied on luck rather than skill to get him out of battle alive.
As Kieran launched himself back into the fray, Elliott stood up and shouted at him. "What opening!? We're in the middle of nowhere and I don't see any mysterious doors popping up out of anywhere!"
As if mocking the situation even further, somehow another voice entered the argument.
The green-haired boy looked wildly around, in his panicked state unsure if the message had been conveyed out loud or merely in his mind. Regardless, he didn't have any kind of telepathic powers and the voice was clearly listening to his rant, so he shook his fist at the sky, moving quite a few steps behind Kieran- who could clearly handle himself. "Acting?? ACTING? I'D be HAPPY for acting! I'd be plenty entertained! COULDN'T YOU CRAZY CIRCUS PEOPLE SETTLE FOR SOME GOOD OLD FASHIONED HAMLET??" Elliott complained loudly at the sky, bitterness matched only by the intensely bitter smell that he gave off.
The smell, however, didn't seem to be deterring the Pyroar lioness at all!
Elliott noticed its eyes had locked onto him somehow, and was frankly quite horrified. Sick to his stomach with fear, even. Or maybe just sick to his throat? He coughed, bent over but still trying to move backwards. He kinda looked like a drunk trying not to vomit on their own shoes- not the best battle tactic, but it did leave a long white sticky trail in the sand between himself and the Pyroar. He wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. "We need to get away!! Maybe the cards trigger the doors to appear??"
Vampiric blade feeds off of bloodied crimson as it slices through the beast's ankle. The metal seems to sing as it draws along the flesh, a sound that echoes eerily still even in the moments after it leaves the skin. Avignon's legs quickly backpedal her as soon as she feels the solid strike--and just in time. Flame begins to wash down toward them, searing the spot where she'd just stood. Even as she puts distance between herself and the Minotaur, she can feel the heat harsh against her skin.
She takes a deep breath to steady herself and watches as the creature begins to thrash against the concrete wall. His blood smears against the ashen surface. His flailing sends dangerous chunks of concrete raining down below. Attentive orbs note with relative satisfaction that the girl's bird is at least beginning to distract the Minotaur's two PokeSoul thralls, keeping them away from her as the bird places himself between them. If it weren't for her feelings about the abomination that controlled it, perhaps she'd have admired the metallic avian's mechanic craft and maneuverability. A part of her wishes that she'd done more damage with her earlier strike to it, if only to decrease its chances of survival in the predicament they'd found themselves in, but another part knows that she won't make the same mistake of dulling her blow next time.
Eyes spot an opportunity. Avignon begins to back herself partially toward one of the other walls. She unhooks her connection to the Transistor only long enough to shed black jacket. She begins to wave the garment, the bright yellow triangle on its black face reflecting the light.
"Hey!" she calls, trying to get the thing's attention. "The fuck you doing all the way over there?" If she can bait it into slamming into the wall, perhaps even to lodge its horns, it would be the perfect chance to strike--and perhaps start to try to bring whatever strange place they were in down on top of everything in it. It would be easy to teleport out of its way once it charged. If she could make it out, she could always make it back in to scavenge the rubble for the parts of the others that had split up.
ooc hi sorry i don't know what i'm doing
words: 384
Wingnut curled his wings in almost as quickly as he'd unfurled them as the minotaur's fire leaked too close for comfort; the resulting change to his flightpath sent him tilting dangerously low to the ground of the circus tent, kicking up a stream of dust as he did so.
Their swords are on fire! Wingnut, ask them how they do that so we can do that later.
The Maker's amazement was palpable, even here, even now, as the two performers ahead of him whispered words of warning to their weapons and summoned forth flame. There was something unearthly to this, something impossible to pin down in the vast array of human things that Wingnut had been shown, and it wasn't all in the magical conjuration or rainbow flames. These were the works of Pokemon. Wingnut could feel their resonance beating with his own, the fierce battle cry from them humming with the thrum of his own heart. There was something heartbreakingly familiar about this type of spectacle, fights with no buildup or visible cause, ringmasters above calling shots whose weight he didn't fully understand, that he hadn't felt in years and hadn't thought to see again.
The steely bird cawwed as he streaked closer to the performing siblings, tilting his wings as he tried to dodge their unearthly weapons. He could see the swords streaking toward him, trailing tri-colored flames, and he had a feeling that in a fight like this, with new and stranger enemies appearing by the second, he would be much better off staying cautious and avoiding taking more head-on hits than if he tried to finish the fight in one blow.
His resulting movements sent him vectoring straight upward, trying to soar out of reach, but Wingnut knew that he was a slower and more attractive target than most of the things in the room, and that made dodging difficult. And that was almost the point. At the apex of his arc, unscathed or not, he intended to crash downward, a screaming machination of metal and war, steel on swords. His eyes lasered in on the two performing siblings, and his focus narrowed on the golden one whose life he had risked his own for. "They want a show. Will we give it to them?"
The Flareon PokeSoul sprints towards Elliott, sword bared, her eyes black suns with no light, no light. When she finally reaches his point, she then registers the odorous scent washing up from him. It draws her back to reality for the faintest of moments, her eyes flickering with the briefest recognition of what lies before her: life, soul, a man with frozen emerald irises of fear. His trepidating form activates something primal in her, past the acts she’s been forced to don for however long she’s been alive. However, another stronger drive within her wipes away that recognition and she clears her head, continuing to aim for Elliott at full speed -!
Only to become ensnared in the white sticky substance the Caterpie PokeSoul has trailed behind. Black eyes shoot upwards at him while feet struggle to get free, budging this way and that against one of the strongest substances of nature. She blows a thin wisp of flame towards it, watching the shiny substance wither thread by thread in their coagulation of roped white. It sort of reminds her of muscle, bunched sinew stuck to bone - and it is then that same strong urge from earlier comes back to charge against her consciousness. The Flareon PokeSoul breaths in and out, unnecessarily heavy, with the weight of whatever humanity left anchoring her to this spot. The shaking Caterpie PokeSoul. Eyes dart over to the one it spoke to, the one it tried to protect, the one she teased earlier in the Tent by saying hello him. With two Pyroar on his hands, the situation looks less than ideal for him… yet this one urges him on, asks him to continue this journey alongside him.
The sword falls out of her hand. Wrists, knees, joints feel so twisted as she attempts to pin down what it is she feels within her. The fire she lit before has all but burned out, but not before leaving its scorch mark dangerously close to the delicate webbing of her feet. She could rip through the rest of this, diving forth and finishing the plan assigned to her. A thousand murmurs rub against her throat, asking for words to voice their dissent from her body’s capacity. The sound of blood and marrow sipped through straw.
Two urges fight and one wins. So she picks up her sword, dust scattered on its blade and hilt, before drawing it to her face and slitting slightly the neck whose vocal cords have been sealed off. Chokes of life leave her, black eyes fully alive again.
“Kid,” she sputters out. Her voice is a high Atlantic, soothing. “You take his card and you take yours and then you run as fast as you can in that direction! It’s the only way you’re guaranteed to get out of here!”
Just then, something very different happens to the Pyroar who sailed after Kieran. Both the one with the bashed chest and the other turn towards the Flareon PokeSoul, seeing something written like prey written in awoken eyes, a feast with hair like flame hurtling down her back. With panic in her eyes she feigns peace in her voice. “Go, go now.”
Two Pyroar dive towards the traitor.
On the other side of this dimension, the raging Minotaur sees nothing but red. Heavy hooves carve out caves in the earth as it charges forth, hurling its body this way and that across the Circus tent with no focus and no end in sight. One image snaps its dulled vision to attention: yellow, something split apart from the sea of red drowning all other sense. The Minotaur huffs, blowing rings of black smoke towards the ground. The possibility of a trap is never considered as it lurches forth -
Wingnut plummets straight down towards the duo! Awareness like a shock of electricity courses through both sisters, illuminating a sentiment of pain so strong they don’t think to shriek or dodge or move in the time span they have left. Refined and glorious metal meets their toy swords, nothing more than plastic compared to Wingnut’s loving manufacturing. The Vaporeon and Jolteon PokeSoul fall to the floor, flashy leotards darken with splotches of blood and rising ash. Spluttered coughs leave the two; their mission is right here, they should take on this creation of doom that’s connected to the girl and then take out the two remaining -
The Minotaur stops abruptly, skidding into the ground like a freight train on all emergency brakes. Disaster protocol. Its mighty head whips back and forth, the only part of its being to do so, as the Vaporeon and Jolteon duo stand upright. Stock-still. Listening for a sound they haven’t heard for years of their lives.
The siblings turn towards the door their guests left through. With a calm stride, they reach said door, turning on the handle that no longer exists and staring idly at the nothingness beyond, all other guests and facts about their situation totally forgotten. Their bare feet crunch on the glass shattered left over from the emergency exit light as they struggle to get through, for reasons they know not. Like this, they are defenseless, offenseless, swords singing of their malfunction as they try to get through that wall. The Minotaur waits, eyes clouding over.
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