December Event Log #1: Someone App Tails So He Can Get Trolled

[magicademymods]

December Event Log Now I Face Out The thunderous boom that shakes the academy on December 24th isn't all that unusual, considering Diatu's penchant for magical mishaps. But the way the air shifts and warps in an imperceptible way afterwards definitely is. The sky-spanning purple nebula that traps the magicademy in its expanse is a little suspect too. And then there's the yellow-eyed duplicates of yourself that rip themselves away from you in a burst of violet, starry smoke. "I am the Shadow, the true self!" the duplicate proclaims in a distorted voice, pointing dramatically at the original. What happens next depends on what the wizard the shadow spawned from is repressing, though. If you have an urge to cut loose and wreck shit, the shadow will be immediately destructive, tearing apart the academy around it. If you refuse to acknowledge a deep trauma in your past, the shadow may perch on a tower and radiate waves of sadness and apathy to get everyone else to feel their pain too. And so on and so forth. Whatever aspects of themself the character refuses to acknowledge, that they feel shame over, the shadow will embody to its most destructive extent possible. Oh, and the guiltier a character feels about whatever they're repressing, the more powerful their shadow is. I Hold Out The only way to stop your shadow is to accept them as a part of yourself. But seeing an embodiment of everything that you hate about yourself and having to reconcile with it is difficult. And at the slightest sign of rejection, the shadow will change into a monstrous form representative of the repressed feelings they were born from and begin lashing out. Violently. While going on an overblown motive rant. Oh, boy. But hey. Getting to literally fight back against all of the worst parts of yourself is generally cathartic enough to begin the healing process? Right? No? Well, too bad, because this thing isn't going away and somebody needs to take care of it before the situation gets worse. Thankfully, your friends are there to help you through it! Hopefully. I Reach Out to the Truth Of course there's the matter of what caused this phenomenon in the first place, and the calamitous nebula that's keeping Diatu sealed off from the outside world. Close friends of Tyzias may also notice that she's completely vanished as well. Once characters reconcile with their shadows, they can see and interact with a spiral staircase leading up to the heavens. However, considering that the staircase is crawling with hostile, mindless generic shadows and that the presence of whatever's at the top can be felt, they may want to bring a few friends before investigating. We Really Wanted To Include A Gif And Apologize For Ruining This Post. No, This Isn't a Prompt

Comments

[mithrarin]

I Break Away

Identifying which Dust was which proved to be no challenge at all. One held Furae and Ahrah both, one held only a shadowed blade with none of Ahrah's spark and vitality, true -- but more importantly, one of them wasn't wearing a hat. The Shadow-Dust's yellow eyes might be, for all anyone knew, identical to the true Dust's... but no hat, man. No hat!

"Jin accomplished nothing but hurting the ones who loved him," the shadow sneered over locked blades. "You know that's what you'll do, right? Anyone who cares about you will only come to pain from knowing you. Yet here you are, trying to live a 'normal' life!"

Dust said nothing. Instead, he twisted sideways abruptly, shoving the shadow-sword way out of line with both of his so he could plant a solid kick into his duplicate's stomach. But the shadow saw it coming, spun his own body to dodge it and drive a roundhouse kick at Dust in the same motion. Which Dust in turn dodged, vaulting backwards to put space between the two of them and hopefully resume the conflict on better terms.

But that might have been playing into the shadow's plans, for instead of lunging back in to engage, the faux-Dust smirked at his original, gently stepping sideways to begin circling around the Sen-Mithrarin, as was mandatory for fights such as these. "I guess failing at living that life must be a solace to you. That's what I am, you know. Did you truly inherit Jin's kind heart and Cassius's desire for battle? Or did you really and truly get, instead, Jin's inability to accomplish anything without hurting others, and Cassius's blind devotion to the point that he would murder for it?

Dust spoke through clenched teeth, Ahrah's point trembling slightly from the force with which Dust gripped the blade. "I stopped General Gaius--"

"Who killed you. You couldn't stay to be anyone's hero. All that strength you're oh-so-proud of couldn't help anyone once you finally went into battle, actually tried to fulfill your purpose. And in the end you pitied him, though nothing had changed. A broken weapon, Sen-Mithrarin, melted down to be reforged in the hopes that it would be better. And here you are, so flawed you can't even be wielded. You'd have been better off throwing yourself off this island the moment you got here. At least then you wouldn't leave behind any more Fidgets and Gingers who have nothing left in their life but mourning--"

Anger didn't make Dust sloppy in battle, unguided, unglued. Just the opposite; anger brought out ferocity, anger made him into a whirling, snarling force of blades and power. If the enemy facing him hadn't been himself, the battle would be over here and now; as it was, the force of their blades colliding sent a shockwave rushing over the grass and through the air.

The Other Side of Me

Cassius, and by extension Dust, might have just picked up a cloak because it billowed nicely when charging ahead at a run. Ahead in this case meant up the stairs, Ahrah and Furae cutting down any shadows that darted near without slowing him down a jot. He was going to find out what was at the top. And he hadn't bothered to pick anyone up because damned if he was going to let someone else risk themselves. Some things never changed...

The Other Side of Me

[tiredcharmer]

Dust is a skilled swordsman with all of the magical power of the academy at his disposal and two legendary swords at his side. The malformed, half-complete shadows are no match for his skill. What awaits at the top of the stair, however...

As Dust ascends, the nebula thickens, warping and changing. One moment it's the forests he worked so hard to defend. The next it's ancient ruins where he busted real good. A familiar volcano. And so on and so forth, each memory grabbing at him, trying to pull him into the mirage, but the tug is weak. Deprived of strength. It's almost as if it's trying to draw power from something that is no longer available to it.

Finally, he reaches the platform at the top. It's a perfectly circular disc of blood, teal and red mixing and swirling together to produce that same dark purple nebula. The surface tension supports Dust's weight, though, and on the other end of the platform is a throne, upon which sits a monster. Jagged plates of black obsidian fit together over violet storms of violent stars, pulsing, throbbing veins of corrupt blood circulating through its body--if it can even be called that. Its head is vaguely draconic, and two pairs of demonic wings flare behind it, wrapping around the throne. Despite not having a face, Dust can feel it sneering at him.

That probably isn't what's concerning Dust, though. Tyzias's body hangs suspended in the shadow's nebula, faint flickers of gold flaring on her skin before being consumed by the dark stars. She's no unconscious, but her face is blank, tired. Defeated.

I Break Away

[hyperdrivemonalisa]

"Blah blah blah blah! Boy, the real Dust doesn't talk nearly as much as you do! Is there a point to all of this blather, or do you just like hearing the sound of your own voice?!"

Because jeez, was it hard to tell from here! The aforementioned real Dust probably couldn't see Isabel's fierce grin from under the brim of his hat, but he could see the attempted boot to the head she was trying to deliver to his shadow.

Even if the shadow blocked it, Isabel would just flip back into ginga, swaying in place, fists raised.

[stillnewatthis]

All Systems Go

Oh look, it's Orisa!

The moment Orisa spotted anyone, she lifted her fusion driver as the vents flapped open. The internal mechanics sucked in air and expelled it, pumping the harvested water in to electrolyze it for output. "Anubis protocols online," she intoned, none of her usual warmth and good cheer in her synthesized voice. "Conducting extermination of sentient organic life."

If that wasn't plenty of warning that something had gone amiss, the sudden onslaught from the particle gun ought to hint that maybe Orisa wasn't friendly today.

Radioactive

The scenario was absurd: two Orisas standing opposite each other, each of them shielded by a curved force screen that absorbed the other's fire, each of them unloading their fusion drivers into the other's screen without any meaningful hope of breaking it. Each Orisa replaced their force screen before it broke, after all. If either of them stopped, though, the other would claim the advantage.

Problem: Orisa's eyelights were normally yellow. So which Orisa was the one deserving of aid...?

(go) kill the party with me and never go home

[nomoremistergneissguy]

"Orisa, what?"

Yeah, Cliff knew that sound and it was not a good sound when it was aimed at him. For his part, Rounder charged up to the Omnic (as much as a marble sphere could actually charge anywhere), and only then did the familiar hesitate.

Cliff couldn't blame the guy, really.

He thrust out his arm and at his command, the earth lifted before him and solidified into a broad and hefty pillar of rock that wasn't going to last more than a few salvos from Orisa's fusion driver. But even then, the ground beneath her feet was liquifying--he was hoping she didn't realize it until it was too late, however. Still, he knew she was pretty on the ball...might not be a good idea, but he was resolute. Gonna try it anyway!

a standoff

[blue_ice]

Kaiba came across the two of them fighting and nearly turned back and walked away. He wouldn't survive this. But...she'd been so kind as to rescue him from his shadow's terror, so he supposed he should return the favor.

But how? His eyes flickered between them, not finding a meaningful difference.

"Are you gonna tell me what your deal is or do I have to figure that out myself?"

[darkenedmoon]

Justice in Murder

A bit of a ruckus is going on in the living quarters today. Yotsuyu's room is usually almost eerily quiet, as the woman is not given to loudness or chaos.

Today is different.

Today, there is shouting and the shattering of crockery, and the thumping and bumping of bodies racketing around within; and surprisingly, soon enough, not one Yotsuyu, but a pair of them, come bouncing out the door in a flurry of robes and hair. They both have hands wrapped around each other's necks, though they still manage to hiss epithets at one another...

You are worthless! You are weak!, one hisses into the other's face--the one on the bottom growls back, yellow eyes flashing.

"You are everything I tried to extinguish in myself! I cannot let you win! I will not!" Not that it meant much, in the face of the shadow's strength. Still, she reached for the dagger at her belt, still gripping the false one's throat with one hand. She would not give in!


Now do what you will so it hurts no more

Yotsuyu was battered--she felt somewhat like she had on her marriage night with Sahishai. Battered, perhaps, yes. But broken? Oh, no.

She slogged her way up the staircase, yellow eyes blazing with fury. In one hand, she clenched a very specific mirror...

Just Us Justice Ducks

[sublimelymagnificentblitz]

So when people's inner torments and stuff started popping out and doing various unpleasant things, Jecht's first thought was a very painful one -- because he knew exactly which friend of his was gonna have hell to pay for this sort of thing. Just as the door burst open, he can charging down the hall at a run. Too late anyway, though!

"Hey TsU!" Rather pointless, but he said it automatically, out of some hope that he could tell which Witch of Doma was which.

[temptationaccomplished]

Sat on a fence, but it don't work

For millennia, he had served a cruel, unjust, and starkly-divided system that did not reflect Aziraphale's own beliefs, and perhaps did not actually reflect Her will at all. Living in fear of reprisal--of Falling, of eternal damnation--he wallowed in self-preservation and retreated to the party line, resulting in such inner-conflict as to lose in the name of action. He sat on the fence, fought himself, and dithered away time between the truths he knew from Crowley's lips and from his own experiences, and the "Truths" he had been told to believe in Heavenly propaganda.

For years upon years, he denied his greatest friendship out of misplaced loyalty to a system that only cared for winning a war; they didn't care for humanity... they didn't even care about their own. There is no honor among...no wait, that's Hell. But then they aren't so different, really, are they? Just the branding. (But he was supposed to think they were different. He was supposed to think his side was the Good Guys)

He was a very bad angel, a worse friend, and he did not act when he should have. He should never have wavered. He should have been resolute. He should have chosen Crowley sooner.

Now, this was not the path he feels now that he should have been resolute on. But his shadow seems to differ. Because Aziraphale is a principality, meant to guard the gate of Eden and guide the human souls towards goodness to build Heaven's power. He is a soldier in Heaven's Army. He is an Angel. He was made to do this.

The Shadow radiates with glowing, stern judgement. You have been seen and been found wanting. Come now to the light and all will be made amends. Repent.

Sinners will be destroyed. And demons... Well, demons will be smited. (Smote? ...Will be smitten.)


insanity laughs, under pressure we're cracking

"FEAR NOT," it says and means it. Why fear the light of Heaven, even if it destroys you? "For Go

Not long into its existence, after being denied by its original, the being has transformed from a shadow of the (apparently) genial Mr. Fell into something that is neither man nor beast, a monstrous form with an ungodly number of eyes and a multitude of wings. The creature is transcendent, fearsome and awe-inspiring--an eldritch of the most celestial nature. From its core, it burns with a feiry righteousness sharper than any blade known to man.

Shadow-Aziraphale is consumed by the Divine Truth of Heaven that he has denied within himself in favor of serving humanity and serving his own desires. This being believes in the inherent, unquestionable Good that Heaven must embody by virtue of being an extension of God's will. There will be a War, the world will end in fire and flame, and Heaven will triumph.

The wrathful angel will smite its counterpart and the two traitors. Any humans caught in the crossfire are an unfortunate casualty, but wars are meant to be won and this is a war against the influence of Hell.


love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves

Glancing over his shoulder, hoping the paladin principality hasn't followed him, Aziraphale knocks loudly on Crowley's door.

"Crowley, I need your help. Would you please open this door?!"

but your bibles don't work on me

[darkenedmoon]

For a heathen, the celestial abomination is quite impressive, as these things go. But Yotsuyu reached out and had grabbed her own power back on Hydaelyn, even having been manipulated into it--she might not have been God, but she had been a goddess, once, and this monster did not scare her.

Clever, always. But not always wise...

"Why should I fear you?" the yellow-eyed witch sneered, fan snapping as she glared up at it. It might have served a god, but it was no god she believed in.

"What do you want? Why are you here? This is wrong, you know. 'Tis not your world." Even as it was not hers. "You should not be here. There are things you should be doing, elsewhere."

Still, she stood there at the ready, perfectly willing to snarl defiance at it.

can't we give ourselves one more chance?

[sauntereddown]

'Crowley, I need your help' are five very efficient words when they're coming from Aziraphale. So it's notable that Crowley hesitates. To say the least. And is that the sound of hissing on the other side of the door?

"Not sure I'm helpful just now!"

("'Course not! Fucking coward.")

"Pretty sure I'm the opposite of-"

("What're you afraid of, Crawly?")

"I'm afraid of your B-movie dialogue staining my very nice sheets, now sit in your bloody corner until I figure out what to do with you!"

WHAT IS LOVE? BABY DON'T HURT ME, DON'T HURT ME, NO MORE

[sublimelymagnificentblitz]

"The hell is that?"

Ungodly number of eyes? Way too many wings? That's just another day on Spira, so Jecht evinced no fear whatsoever as he looked at the thing. Of course, with his ridiculous sword at his side, he was pretty confident in himself, so that helped the whole lack of fear thing too.

"Hey, pal! Quit being you and go back to whoever you came from!"

[blue_ice]

and call him george

Kaiba's shadow is perhaps a little different from most. Sure, it looks menacing, with its black coat flapping in the wind and bright yellow glare. And the strength it exhibits is terrifying. But its method of attack is...a little different from most.

If you're anyone that Kaiba feels anything more positive than downright hate toward (which is mostly everyone he's met except a certain troll)...well, you're about to get glomped.

"Friend!"

The real Kaiba's footsteps pound the ground as he chases after it, clear terror in his eyes. This is a disaster.

three sizes too small

Of course, things don't go as smoothly as they should. The blue-eyed Kaiba trembles with rage as he glares at this abomination.

"Leave! You'll crush someone, and while that might give the school a headache...it'll give me one too!"

There's a moment when the shadow's eyes widen. It steps forward, arms outstretched. Seto's reply is immediate:

"NO."

Wrong answer, Seto. There's a horrifying screech as the humanoid form gives way to a black dragon...with red eyes. Because of course it does. And yet it still talks.

"YOUR HEART DOESN'T HAVE TO BE AS BLACK AS ICE," the dragon yells, firing off...a black ice spell, because it's being literal today. Kaiba curses as he's hit, blasted backward a good few feet and slamming into the wall.

"Don't you tell me what I am!"

Seto's going to attempt a fire counter, the small fireball zooming up at the courtyard. Oh dear.

and hug him and pet him and squeeze him

[holdyourhorns]

The shadow's latest victim more weirded out than hostile at the strange being, especially at its enthusiastic friendliness.

So for a second, Spyro remains frozen within the spontaneous cuddle session. Until Seto charges in from right behind, but even then he only moves his head just slightly to give the man a questioning look, carefully making sure his horns don't clip the blackened face.

"I know I have a ton of fans, but this is... something else."

and Seto's heart grew three sizes that day

[hyperdrivemonalisa]

"Hey! Have you ever thought that he needs to be emo, so the grass outside the Purifeul dorm cuts itself?" Isabel, your dad would be either proud or embarrassed, and it's hard to tell which from here...

The fireball spatters itself off of the field that Isabel had brought up with the Musical Force Projector--it's playing some song from Isabel's home world--the music drops from something hard-rocking to what sounds like a children's wind-up toy. The girl herself narrows her eyes at the shadow, tilting her head at the red-eyed monster.

"Is that jealousy, sweetheart? It doesn't look good on you. What's wrong, didn't Seto hug you enough?" She's trying to joke, but well, truth is stranger than fiction, sometimes.

"How about you take one from me, then?" And even better, the Force Projector, as she sends a lash out to wrap around the shadow-dragon's neck.

THEY SAY IT GREW THREE(DOZEN) SIZES LARGER THAT DAY

[noasark]

Oh.

Oh god, what is he looking at.

He didn't exactly see the part where things were transforming, but he Is coming into the courtyard just in time to watch fire and ice blast into each other and cause a relative mess. Actually, everything has been a mess today and honestly he's kinda tired of it. His penguin aide stares, and so does he. Is it...uhhhh...

R...Red eyes? That's red-eyes right? He doesn't think that's actually Red-eyes, oh well.

Noa rubs his eyes, and thinks of the most aggravating, attention snatching type of note he can before blasting a few on the ocarina. That's about all he needs for a proper stunner spell, right? Yeah.

"PHWWWEEEEEEET!"

"AAaaau!" The penguin agrees, y'all need to cool it. And also explain what's going on holy shit.

UPDATING SIZE

[stillnewatthis]

Before the dragon could fire off another spell, a little device whipped in front of Kaiba -- then immediately unfolded into a force shield, curved around to protect him. A moment later Orisa skidded right past him, four legs cutting slices into the dirt as she came to a halt.

To wave a pointer finger at the human rather than the shadow.

"Seto Kaiba! You update your program immediately!"

DESTROYA (Against the Sun, We're the Enemy) — BOSS FIGHT

[tiredcharmer]

With the stairway cleared by Dust's frenzied ascent, those who have reconciled with their shadows can now regroup and pierce the heavens to find the root of the shadow curse. It's a long, arduous journey, made longer by the scenery warping and changing to try and draw the pack of students into memories. Yet something holds the illusion back, preventing the phantasms from reaching their full potential. It's almost as if it's running on auxiliary power.

At the top is a platform of swirling teal and candy red blood, mixing together into dark purple then breaking apart. It's apparently safe to stand on, since a titanic shadow is blasting Dust with a stream of pure Calamity energy. Jagged plates of black obsidian fit together over violet storms of violent stars, pulsing, throbbing veins of corrupt blood circulating through its body--if it can even be called that. Its head is vaguely draconic, and two pairs of demonic wings flare behind it, wrapping around the throne. And suspended in its void is a tired, beaten Tyzias, eyes hollow and neck bent in defeat.

It seems preoccupied by the Warmblood challenger, leaving all the others with four words that seem to reverberate through space, hundreds of voices echoing at once. These words have power, for some reason, a narrative pivot essential to maintaining forward momentum and change. They ask a simple question, one everyone present can hear:

What will you do?

[mithrarin]

And here's Dust, dueling with the thing like a force of nature, a storm and a fury of spinning blades and absurdly acrobatic movements, vaulting past bolts of power and blocking whatever frenzied claw strikes he can't duck around with ringing force. If asked, he'd say he wasn't at his best -- because even with two swords cutting through the air, he didn't have Fidget.

If she were here, fighting by his side as she had helped him all through Falana, he's sure this would have been over by now. But without her power to amplify with the Dust Storm, he was down to mere bladework. And even so, he knew perfectly well the key to this battle was not beating the beast down, but just talking to Tyzias... who didn't deserve this, if anyone didn't. It hurt just to think about. But so long as this damn shadow was on his case, he didn't have a spare moment to even breathe...

[sauntereddown]

I'll be your mirror

It's not easy to tell them apart at first. The same lanky, flame-haired man who looks coiled like a spring. If you've gotten to know him, or you move in a bit closer, you see that one of these men is wearing his ever-present sunglasses.

The other one is showing his eyes. They're yellow, all the way out through the sclera. They're slitted like a reptile's (specifically a snake), and gleaming with some kind of tremendous emotion. It's hard to tell if that emotion is anger, fear, or sorrow. Maybe all three.

His clothes are tattered too, you might notice, in a state of disrepair you've never seen from the original Crowley. Instead of his stylized, fashionable tattoo reminiscent of a serpent, there's a pattern of red and black scales dusting his neck and jawline.

"Oh good. I thought it ssseemed too peaceful around here."

"...hi." The man who always introduces himself as Anthony Crowley is still tense in every inch of his frame, but he's trying very hard to keep his voice level. To play it cool. "Well. This is awkward. 'fraid I'm not-"

"No. No, you don't get to do that. Not to me, Crawly, not to ME!"

It stamps its foot, like a child having a tantrum. It might even be laughable. But Anthony Crowley goes silent.

"You don't get to IGNORE me, Sssserpent of Eden. Not anymore."

Then he breaks into a run.



Reflect what you are, in case you don't know

Eventually, the shadow will catch up with him. It's not in any hurry. It knows what Crowley - no, Crawly - is going to do. And they can face each other and The Angel properly.

But it has a lot of feelings and nowhere to put them (yet). And this is a great time to release some tension.

All these people, out doing battle with their shadows. It's a perfect time to whisper into their ears. Make them feel anger or despair, give them that crucial nudge towards self-destruction. It's what demons are meant to do, after all.

time to meet the other half [Mirror]

[aspiringknight]

It might take a few seconds of Crowley running to notice he's suddenly not running alone. A teenage girl with white hair and pointed ears is keeping pace next to him. She looks over at him.

"I saw you running and thought it might be a good idea to run too." She tells him by way of explanation. "What's going on?"

I'll be your mirror, like a pale reflection

[darkenedmoon]

The sound of pelting footsteps could be heard--and a hand that by all means should be well-manicured lashed out, clasping broken-nailed fingers around one of Crowley's lapels, and yanked him into the space between buildings.

There stood Yotsuyu goe Brutus a trifle breathless herself, yellow eyes glancing over Crowley's shoulder. "Further in," she hissed softly, though she'd released him once she thought he might be out of his shadow's scrutiny. Or at least his line of sight.

"Be still a moment. If he still senses you, this shan't work. But I am attempting to give you breathing space." With that, the woman snapped her fan open, working a spell to make the true Crowley blend in with the vines and the vague, dappled shadows between buildings, made even muddier thanks to the clouds and overcast weather.

Were she given to laughter at a time like this, Yotsuyu might laugh, but she's only too solemn as she turns a watchful eye towards the main thoroughfare--prepared to pit her wits against those of a demon, should the need arise. Though the reason for her short speech and lack of laughter might be clear in the ring of bruises that encircle her throat, making her somewhat throaty voice even more raspy, now.

[aspiringknight]

She came to the world in the usual way

"Oh no..." Sophie mutters, staring at the other her. "Is this sort of thing going to happen often?"

Sophie still wears her cavalier armour out most of the time, since she's comfortable in it and it's a link to home and her old life, and a reminder of the person she wants to be; a great knight, like her father. She's wearing it now, in fact. This Sophie however, has opted for...grey trackpants and a hoodie. Her eyes are downcast, hands shoved into the pockets forlornly.

"You know, don't you?" The Shadow asks. "We'll never live up to them."

Sophie blinks in alarm. "E-excuse me?"

"We'll never be as good as them. Father, mother, Uncle Xander or any of the rest. They put up with us because we're family but we're not like them. We're just embarrassments."

Sophie looks like she's just been slapped, but her surprise quickly turns to anger. "That's not true! Our-MY parents are proud of me! They've said so. Dad told me he's proud of the progress I'm making!"

"It's a parent's job to lie to their children. If he was so proud of us, where was he when we were growing up? Where was mom? They were out forging their legends, making themselves heroes. They never cared about us. Why should they? They knew what we were."

"H-How dare you! It wasn't like that! They didn't want to leave me!" Despite herself, she's blinking back tears. "You don't talk about my parents! You don't know them!"

And now the other Sophie looks up and meets her real self's eyes; there's a hard, bitter look to her gaze. "And you do?"

Sophie-the real Sophie-freezes up. Like she doesn't know how to respond to that.

She'd say "I'm gonna be like you, Dad"

It's a little hard to see given how unusually frazzled her current situation has made her, but Sophie is normally pretty cheerful and upbeat, despite her many accidents and mishaps. She makes mistakes, but she bounces back quickly, determined to try again, and get better. It's the only way to improve.

So you wouldn't think she has much in the way of deep-seated personal issues, and you'd be very, very, very wrong about that. And those issues are currently expressing themselves through a Shadow of herself going berserk in the Promenade, letting her magic run uncontrolled, like a horse gone wild.

Real Sophie wants to stop her Shadow self, but...how can she? She doesn't have her horse, or even real weapons, just the training lance she made. Magic? What magic? She's barely managed to learn anything. She's no mage...

...and she's starting to believe she's no knight, either. And never was. How can she stop an enemy like this by herself?

Maybe she doesn't have to?

[princepallidus]

Cause the world might do me in

The unnatural atmosphere around the school drew Pallidus to the snow-covered grounds. Normally this time of day would be inaccessible to him, but whatever this was, it wasn't "daytime" anymore. All around him there were others fighting what seemed to be clones of themselves, with a few other students trying to help talk them through the situation, or sometimes using magic to push them back. But there seemed to be something bigger at play, and Pallidus was determined to find it.

"Why are you wasting your time worrying? None of them matter to you. Not really."

That voice was... familiar, but in a abstract way. Pallidus wasn't used to hearing it come from any other direction than from within. Turning, his red gaze met that of... himself. Or mostly himself. Except there was something off. The eyes were the most obvious part, glowing a cool yellow rather than their typical red. His clothes were fairly similar to what Pallidus would wear, but there was an intricate pattern of vines etched into them, swirling along the fabric and seeming to sprout from over his heart.

Dumbstruck, Pallidus could only stare, watching the Shadow saunter closer. "What's this? Nothing to say? This is your only chance to have a meaningful conversation."

Pallidus frowned. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Your attempts at friendship have been cute to watch. And quite pitiful. You don't really care for any of them, so it's all a waste of time." The Shadow moved even closer, grinned a sharp-tooth sneer. "What do you care if any of them get hurt, or don't like what you say, or think you're a monster? You don't need them. You're better off alone."

Squaring his shoulders, Pallidus glared at the Shadow and turned around. "I don't have time for this."

Time for givin' up the ghost

Ignoring his Shadow didn't help. Pallidus may have tried to move on, but no matter where he turned there it was again, leering at him and whispering in his ear. Everyone meant nothing. Their pain and suffering, their thoughts and ideas, their strengths, weaknesses, dreams, doubts, joys, fears; it was all a distraction and Pallidus need not trouble himself. He was the only one who mattered. Thinking otherwise was the foolish wish of a child.

Pallidus knew, somehow, he shouldn't fight back, but the most familiar face to him was missing no matter where he looked, and frustration built moment by moment. Until finally-

"Shut up!" Pallidus saw the ripple, the tension growing, but he ignored it, fueled by his own desperation. "Shut up! I don't have time for this!"

"I'm only saying what you truly believe."

"No!" Another pulse. "I am nothing like that! I'm not..." But whatever else Pallidus had to say was drowned out by the vicious cackling of the Shadow, growing larger by the minute. The vines, previously just designs on his clothes, began to take a more physical form, growing longer and thicker with spiked barbs like rose briars. The vines whipped out, snaking around Pallidus' boots and gripping them like a vice, dragging him down to the snow.

With a wave of panic, Pallidus fell to instinct, his fingers morphing into thick, black claws that he dug into the earth to try and fight back against the pull.

"I think it's time to close ourselves away permanently, don't you?"

fuck it's you I hate the most

[darkenedmoon]

"I do not think he was asking >you," a raspy voice rang out over the snow. There stood a woman, dressed in a black-and-red kimono. Her arms were crossed, a folded fan clutched in one hand. Her eyes were downcast, the blossom in her hair fluttering in the wind.

"Nor do I think he wishes to go with you." That the male resembled a voidsent meant nothing; Yotsuyu well knew that anyone with true evil intent would not easily be permitted here at the Academy. After all, she had been here for months, largely unchallenged, even after Alphinaud had left. Though the Leveilleur boy had departed, she had largely kept to the spirit of their truce.

"You might want to close your eyes." At the very least. Said comment was directed to the struggling male, even as he dug his claws into the snow and the earth. Yotsuyu was already hissing the words of a spell, drawing a Modification diagram in the air before her. The Shadow could either persist in acquiring its prize, or, if it were wise, it would choose to desist, for now--or at least try to protect itself from the witch's impending onslaught.

Angling herself so that Pallidus was in little danger (well, if he didn't close his eyes, he'd likely have a headache...), Yotsuyu spoke the final word, snapped her fan shut, and swung it before her, sending out a burst of light that scuffed up snow and earth as it hurtled at the Shadow. If it struck, the thing would be both blinded and buried in a pile of rock and snow, at the very least.

Meanwhile, she'd make very certain that the vines remaining around the male's ankles would be cut, even as she helped him to his feet.

"We've not much time--it will be back for you." But clearly he needed time to recover--time he wouldn't get if they remained there. "Come with me!"

[treno_nobleman]

The livelong day there's a voice in my cry

What comes from Kuja at the sound of the explosion, under twisting and angry skies, could be nothing more than his duplicate - a dead giveaway by the unnatural yellow that burned in its eyes. A copy of a product, given singular purpose and there for nothing more. Kuja ground his teeth against it, fury spiking even as it taunted him from its place hovering in the air (no hint of the phoenix the world tried to make of him when he himself tried the same trick taking the double over).

"I am the Shadow, the true self! And you!" An accusing finger directed at Kuja. "You are going to die here, alone and in pain."

He had plenty to say against that, but his Shadow seemed to want no pomp or flair. The battle began even before he could get a word out, and it was over well before it ever started. All of Shinryu's might, all of his power seemed compressed into this shade of himself, given the powers back that Kuja had lost upon his arrival in this world. It was all Kuja could do to keep away from the specter, hardly able to direct the infuriatingly slow magic of this world - the incantations! the blasted incantations! - at his newest enemy before another bolt of Flare crashed against him, throwing the Genome to the ground.

Kuja seethed, gathering himself to make with another attempt, backpedaling as much as he was able. This was exactly the position he never wanted to be in, overwhelmed, against the ropes, facing down what almost certainly wanted to kill him. Even more unsettling, the shade had gone from confident proclamations of the true self to outright terror in its expressions, bleeding to fury and back again as quickly as it shifted attacks. One moment it was shrieking in fear, throwing Holy against Kuja's side, and in the next it was boiling in anger, sending cores of Holy and Flare after him.

The fight lasted all of an eternity if it lasted a minute, as violent and terrifying as the magics that had unleashed this force. What Kuja didn't see was the herding going on, so focused as he was on simply staying on his feet and out of harm's way. By the time he realized he had been being pushed to the outskirts of the academy, away from the main traffic areas.

Away from help.

Ultimately it ended with Kuja, bloody and bruised, dirtied and torn, upon his back on grasses stained red with his own life fluids, and the shadow straddling him, no worse for the wear but for a few scratches and cuts. The shadow had his arms pinned down easily under its knees, but defiance shown in Kuja - the real Kuja - still as he glared up at his faults.

And his mind, oh... As those fingers closed around his throat, his thoughts went to Noctis, gone now perhaps forever, and he missed the man. What would he have said to the king now, if he could? What would the king have done if he could see Kuja like this now? And Zidane, his brother. Damn the little thief for ever having shown his face here, but still... Where was he now? Was he off, fighting his own shadow? Though impossible to be, if Zidane died here from any shadow that came from the little git, Kuja would have hung that on his own head. He had put the boy and their Gaia in too much danger once, destroyed the very home of their kind, and turned against him later under an embarrassing influence of false memories. Zidane's well being was Kuja's responsibility now. It always would be.

"You will die here. Your end will not be slow, nor painless. You will be alone. No one will come for you. You deserve nothing and no one. Their blood is on your hands."

He struggled all the more as the grip on his throat increased, putting pressure in places that set his fight or flight responses up several more notches, even in his state, but in vain. This shadow was stronger than him, whatever had spawned it, and it wanted for his life. And here Kuja was, right where the damned thing wanted him, unsure if the sounds he heard were coming from him or the beast slowly killing him. But one word rang clear, even to his own ears among it all, though he knew not from which it came. His throat had long gone raw from his own screams and the pressure around it, ever increasing. But in the end, while his vision began to tunnel and he struggled all the more, perhaps a final time, he found himself grateful for it no less in his desperation.

"Help me!"


I've got my reasons to burn the world

Broken and bruised and bloodied, Kuja is not the same any longer, in more than just his appearance, which he had once kept so carefully and meticulously maintained. Even his tail, which he has not hidden, hangs low as he glares up at the staircase that has appeared before him. But this is it - he can feel it, and he can see it in the shadows of the people from within the academy that litter the walk even now.

He could go it alone. A part of him, still stubborn and prideful, wills it, but he hesitates. Kuja hesitates.

Kuja. On his own but not truly alone since his unnatural birth, independent in all things, willfully and sometimes foolishly brushing aside partnerships as he has in the past, who had always looked upon standing with allies and - damn them all - friends as a weakness to be shunned... Kuja hesitates.

He does so because he knows now, forced to see it in such plain and deadly terms, that he cannot do everything alone. He, who was meant to be the perfect weapon, the bringer of death for not one but two worlds, cannot face this crisis alone. Not on his best day, not without his natural magic, and certainly not as he is now. This is not a reality he faces lightly, or easily, and he knows he will likely seclude himself again once all is said and done. But for now, it is as it must be. And so he waits.

Cry, cry! You're always crying!

[sublimelymagnificentblitz]

Two impacts, one after the other.

The first was a hurled bala-inlota ball, bouncing off the head of the shadow-Kuja with all the force that weighted sphere could produce.

The second impact was Jecht's two feet following the ball's path as the man leaped into the fray to put a stop to this whole mess.

"How 'bout you let the guy breathe, huh?!"