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diatu2019-12-06 12:51 pm
magicademymods) wrote in diatu2019-12-06 12:51 pm
Entry tags:
December Event Log #1: Someone App Tails So He Can Get Trolled
| Now I Face Out
"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.
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.
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.  |
creature, come and get it
Fearless as ever, she got as close to the dueling duo as she could, already coiling a sphere of magick in one hand--easy, as she just moved through a kata as she got closer, letting the movements do its job and coil the energy. As is proper, whispered the voice in her mind.
"I don't even need to answer that. Hey, Dust! Catch!" she said, and lobbed the mass of Forces at him. Fastball special--or one instant Dust Storm, just add Warmblood!
reach out and touch faith (repost and some changes so it's like. an actual sequence of events.)
It doesn't change the stab of fear and concern he feels when he sees... "Fuck." He's just in time to watch the shadow hurl another volley of energy at Dust. The shadow surrounding Tyzias is immense, and eldritch, and he wonders just what she's running from.
He recognizes some of the others who've made their way up, others are new to him, but they're trying to talk her down. Some of the shadows have responded to that, and hers might be no different, however terrifying the thing looks. (Terrifying, it's all right to be terrified, it's -)
"Oi!" He shouts with bravado anyway, old habits die hard. He adds his voice to the sea of responses. "I'm going to get my friend back! She can't accept you if you break her, you idiot!"
Assuming this shadow has the same goals as the rest.
just pretend there's an eclipse gif here
She holds the mirror aloft, the moon etched on its back gleaming in the ambient light. The clouds and darkness obscure the true satellite, but it does not matter. The power is still there, Yotsuyu's will alone is enough. Alphinaud's words echo in her mind from so long ago. Oh gods... This is a summoning!
The familiar power swirls through her, a cold caress and yet a welcome one. For a moment, darkness obscures her form, before a silver beam of moonlight pierces it.
The woman within is Yotsuyu, still. And yet is not; she's split down the center, half black and half white as if she were some sort of mummer. Her eyes have shifted from yellow to brilliant blue, and she's garbed in silver-white, gold, and royal purple--as if she were some sort of deity. It's an elegant headdress, surrounding a pair of ears, that surmounts her head like a crown. Arrogant. Cold. Beautiful. But the goddess does deign to answer the Shadow's question.
"This creature shall know no dawn! I shall spew forth darkness and ensnare it within eternal night. And high above it I shall shine, cold and distant as the moon! Know you despair, beast! I am again Tsukuyomi, goddess of the moon and divinity of night. What power can compare to such celestial majesty?"
She regarded the Shadow with a glare, and opened her golden fan with a sharp snap.
clambers in 10 hours late with an Amateur
Edward grips the sleeve of his robe. He'll let Noa open the conversation, yes; he doesn't want to say something wrong.
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He probably shouldn't be here. He almost went back to the seclusion of his dorm room, give himself some space to unpack all that had transpired over the past few hours in relative privacy. But as soon as Pallidus saw the staircase he knew it wasn't over. Still, seeing what he saw now, Tyzias at the epicenter of all this madness and shadow, he's glad he didn't turn away.
The words of his own Shadow bite deeper now than ever, and Pallidus reaches out, fingers still instinctively shaped into thick claws. He doesn't have the magical prowess to match up to the others around him, not with the magic in this universe, but he still has his words dammit!
"Tyzias!" Her name, her first name, sounds raw in his throat, but he needs to tell her, she has to know, "Whatever you're thinking, do not let it consume you! You can do this! Just let us help you!"
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Is it possible to be an angel of the Lord and still feel entirely out-classed by those around you?
The stairway to Heaven (lead
zeppelinballoon not included) winds upwards to a confrontation Aziraphale is ill-prepared for. It's terrifying in its spectacle and power, and Tyzias is badly drained by the ordeal. This cannot go longer. But Aziraphale is armed only with his wand, his S-Word Sword, and the demon by his side. He is without miracles, and so is Crowley, so the usual strategy of freezing time is out. Still, they may be able to help buy some time and offer support. Because, while what he had told Sophie had not been lies (Aziraphale is trained for battle), he is also not interested in fighting unless it is absolutely necessary. (Best to leave the fighting to the shonen protagonists...and Miss Yotsuyu, who is making a most impressive display he will have to inquire about later).Words, he agrees, are their answer. There is nothing useless about words. They have a great deal of power. And having beaten his own shadow, and watched Crowley conquer his, Aziraphale has some idea what kind of words might have power here. He hopes. He and Tyzias have had a rocky sort of history, especially where communication is involved. Their support of each other is...unconventional. They do not speak the same sort of language. This could either go really well, or...go down like a lead balloon.
"Tyzias!" he calls out after a bit of dithering and hand-wringing over what to do. He watches the others work their own magic, offer their own words of encouragement, and then steps forward. "Have you been up here by yourself, holding this back?" It's supportive, if a little bit scolding. He won't pity her, because she wouldn't want that from him. He's been a right bastard to her and she's accepted that, turned it right back at him, given in kind. They antagonize each other. And he hopes that some of this is what she needs to hear. "You don't have to shield us from this. What do you think you're protecting us from? We are strong enough to accept you as you are," he says, with a gesture to encompass the rallied group of classmates.
"Don't shoulder this alone. We've come to help you. Let us help you."
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WHAT I WANT? The shadow roars out a booming, echoing laugh. AHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHAT I WANT IS A CHALLENGE! WHY DO YOU THINK I ONLY LET THE WORTHY, THE STRONG UP HERE? I LONG TO BREAK ALL OF YOU, TO UNLEASH THE DESTRUCTION AND HAVOC AND MAYHEM THAT I HAVE BEEN DENIED SO LONG! NOW- URK
As the group reaches out to Tyzias, some of the blankness from her eyes fades, but strangely enough the ones who have the most effect on her are her greatest nuisances at the magicademy: Seto and Aziraphale. At their words, Tyzias growls, shaking her head as she snaps out of the fugue that the Shadow put her in... but even as she tugs at her bonds, she can't get free. "Fucking- how many times do I have to teach you this lesson, you old bastard," Tyzias yells at her captor. Before it can respond, the troll turns to the rest of the group, teeth grit. "This thing is allergic to strong bonds. Attack with anything you feel a connection with—your friends, your cards, (Indeed, Seto can feel his dragons rumbling in his pocket), "fuck, even your memories and emotions. This place is a mini-Interdimensional Cloud, dreams and memories are as good as reality here. DO IT!"
The Shadow roars, still thrown off guard by Tyzias's sudden recovery. And as Tyzias speaks, the boom of percussion echoes throughout the arena, a golden glow surrounding the Heroes (they can feel that title now) as their unified purpose summons a capital-M Melody. Now is the time to strike.
[OOC: If you want to coordinate a group attack with someone, plot it out here. In addition, your characters can use any abilities (non world-breaking, such as miracles on the level of stopping time) that they had on their home worlds in the boss arena, but their force and impact will be determined by how many emotions and memories are behind said abilities rather than their inherent power. Good luck.]
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But if the shadow really thinks it can break them, then it can think again. He looks around once at the group, older and newer faces, some he's fonder of than others...and realizes he's part of this, like it or not. He reflects on how they've wormed their way past his barriers, some even becoming friends and family...then confidently lifts his head, brandishing the zeroed-out cards with one of his characteristic smirks.
"If that's what you're so afraid of, old man, then you've made some really bad choices. It's almost enough to make me feel sorry for you."
But only almost. He snorts and balls his fists, his aura adding a tinge of silvery blue, and calls upon the fire burning in his spirit. Three dragons rise behind him, teeth bared, and he confidently steps toward the gathered group, eyes blazing with disdain for the dragon and a determination to get them all out of this.
"LET. HER. GO."
And on his silent command, the three dragons open their maws, releasing a storm of white lightning in the shadow's direction.
there's no link bc i cant find any instrumental that Doesn't have strings ultimately
After all, his 'army' has finally gathered. Noa has more or less accepted his lot in life as the 'bard' in any adventure party, given the instrumental magics he's working on. So as a gaggle of penguins slowly forms, he slowly brings out a wide grinning sneer.
"You intend to keep us out with drums? EVEN THE WINDS OUTCLASS YOU!"
The penguins all serve Adelai. Adelai serves Noa. But it is more than servitude, on all ends. Adelai is a good emperor- the people he calls are willing to fight at his side because of that, and because of that they bring all of their instruments forward with a chorusing 'AAAAAUH!'.
And Adelai in turn, well, he's come to know Noa quite a lot- their own bond is nothing to sneeze at, and combined with Noa's current willingness to not only work in tandem with Seto, but focus on his own memories of more simple times.
Just a little bit of listening to music with the troll...a relaxing peace after a long day of work...
Noa's ocarina, combined with the sounds of the others, brings forth a song of Victory.
As far as he's concerned, the Shadow is already defeated.
I was told to go in any order, so I am going in any order I guess?
Connection. There's one notable one for Aziraphale, one built and bonded over centuries, one he risked a great deal to bring into this world. A love that had saved him and repelled this darkness before--it could help to do it again. He takes Crowley by the hand as the glow of the Melody swells around them--and as Tyzias instructed, he thinks of their years together, the kindnesses and arguments that have bloomed into friendship, the love that has been kindling for longer than could ever be acknowledged and he feels like his heart is overflowing with joy, affection, desire, and love for Crowley--
--And then he is momentarily distracted and admittedly a bit befuddled by the penguins.
But who wouldn't be distracted by a waddle of penguins suddenly appearing in the middle of a battle? It all feels very like something from that film Crowley borrowed his Nanny look from, and he tugs Crowley's hand to make sure his demon is seeing these penguins having a not-so-jolly holiday in the middle of the troll's multi-dimensional realm. It's oddly inspiring, like Noa is pied-pipering them all to battle, not just the birds (are penguins birds? he thinks so), though Aziraphale doesn't understand quite how. He draws the hilt of the s-word sword.
"Crowley," he says, eyes pleading with his heroic demon. "Buy us some time, would you, darling? I think this Shadow has worn out its welcome."
At the word Shadow, fire bursts forth at the base of the Shadow, far enough away from Tyzias, lit by the blade-less sword. Aziraphale visibly winces and tightens his grip on Crowley's hand.
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Welp. Never done this before, but here goes.
Dust flung both arms straight out, his cloak snapping backwards with the force, and let go of both of his swords. Rather than fall to the ground as they ought, each weapon blurred as it began to rotate with such speed that it was only visible by the distortion it left. Ahrah, the blue-runed blade, became a torrent of wind; Furae, red, made everything around it distort with heat shimmer. Nevertheless, they both did the same thing:
They amplified, dozensfold.
White lightning. Flames. Songs of triumph and the power bound into them. Isabel's bolts. Yotsuyu's aether. The Dust Storm took them all in, and returned them in onslaught.
Many of these people were his friends. Tyzias especially. Even his two swords. The shadow could choke on the bonds he'd formed; he'd give up every last drop of himself to see it vanquished.
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And he's thinking of a car driving through a wall of fire, tirelessly blasting arena rock. And of a man who once painted his portrait in Italy. A young boy listening to a lullaby. A slightly older boy holding his hand.
He's thinking about the people he's already met here, Tyzias most of all. Because Aziraphale entered his life and quickly dropped into a category of his own, but Crowley had never imagined other friends. Friends who he could tell the truth to. Friends who seemed to get him.
If Crowley has established one thing about the being he wants to be, it's that he takes care of his friends.
He kisses Aziraphale's hand entwined with his. Then with his free hand, he snaps his fingers. Once, twice, three times, a percussive beat that slots into Noa's melody. He's attempting to miracle a shield around Tyzias, weakening her connection to the enormous Shadow and keeping her safe from their onslaught.
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Before she'd even arrived, she'd built bonds that she never even knew she could. One she gave honor to here, in the form of her familiar; guardian serpent that he was. Guardian that the old samurai had been, when "Tsuyu" had lost her memory. Gosetsu.
Alphinaud Leveilleur. It had been such a wary truce, but should the boy suddenly reappear, she would greet him warmly. Likely shock the Elezen youth, but that was how the times had changed. And those were only the ones from her homeworld...
There were others. Too many to name, even, but their faces flashed through Tsukuyomi's mind, even as she brought her fan to bear against the Shadow. The face of a younger boy, blue-green eyes bright. A young duckling, bow in her hair. A tattooed man, arrogant smirk on his face. A silver-haired man with an equally arrogant mien. A knight in a ridiculous teal tabard. Another young duck, her front 'hair' feathers dyed pastel pink. A young man with pale hair, dancing in place. An angel. A demon. And many more...
"Rising Moon!" she hissed at it. "A light without warmth, stark and uncaring!"
Even as the crescent moon on her back shone brightly, and her entire form shifted to blinding white, a silvery blast screamed down from the heavens to strike the Shadow with unbridled fury--and all the love that "Tsu" possessed.
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Pallidus felt it then, like a mental block fell from the truth he heard in Tyzias' words. Holding out a hand, his claws began to return to normal fingers even as a breeze began to stir behind him. It picked up, faster and faster, buffeting his long, dark hair around him like a swarm. Then snow began to join it, soft at first, before falling heavier.
In only a second, Pallidus felt transferred back in time. His brother Viribus giggling and chasing after him, and his mother watching from the sidelines as they played in her magicked blizzard, his baby brother Genus still swaddled in her arms. Only a few months later she would be dead, and all Pallidus would have left of her was that spark of ice magic in his blood. He cherished that connection to her memory, and that same blood he shared with his brothers.
Raising a fist, large shards of ice appeared hovering about him, and with a splay of his fingers they shot out to bury themselves into the beast, joining in with the flurry of attacks released from all the others brought together here. He could only lay claim to a few other acquaintances here but he felt a kinship with them, all determined to bring Tyzias back from this prison of shadows. Of every person here, Tyzias was the only person he could, no, he did consider a friend. He refused to leave her like this. She believed in them all and Pallidus believed in her.
PHASE II LOADING... (1/2)
Like Set(o) and his dragons, the wicked and the divine's bond transcends time. They clasp hands, calling upon a love beyond anything else in their universe or this one, and angelic flame and demonic rhythm set the beast alight. It roars, clutching at its face, as Tyzias begins to struggle free from her prison.
Dust's strange, new (in a manner of speaking) feelings for Tyzias are threaded throughout the assault, as moonlight and a blizzard alike in their fury and devotion strike out and the fied, tearing it to shreds, and in an instant-
Tyzias is free.
The troll is launched out of the shadow's chest, and she lands perfectly on her feet before the group. The impact cracks the now-hardened blood, as she gives a heartfelt look to everyone present.
"...thank you."
HAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA! FOoooooOOOOOOOOLS! The shadow cackles with delight as it straightens. If anything, it seems stronger than before, its presence exuding a great pressure on all the Heroes - for that is their role while they are here - present. THERE WAS A REASON SHE ALLOWED HERSELF TO BE IMPRISONED! I WAS POISONED BY HER DAMNABLE MELODY, AND NOW THAT SHE IS GONE I CAN-
"Shut up." But while the shadow's aura is menacing, Tyzias's is on a different level. Crowley and Aziraphale caught brief glimpses of it, an ancient, unbridled fury and power bound deep within Tyzias. Now it is out in full force, a presence akin to an emperor or god that demands attention. The fire of her soul is burning brighter than the sun, whatever she had been keeping repressed out in full terror and wrath. "You're part of me, right? At least kind of. Somewhere, deep down where the old dragon can't touch, you're the slice of me that just wants to let loose and fuck shit up.
"So fine." She stands tall now, taller than any have seen her before. "You want me to destroy you? To tear you to pieces? I'm all too happy to oblige." Tyzias takes a deep breath, removes her glasses, and takes a contemplative look at them. "I honestly thought that I could go back to the way things were here, as stupid as it sounds. That I could live out a sweep or two of my life like the low-level, well-meaning bureaucrat that would ultimately accomplish nothing. Like who I was supposed to be."
Tyzias sighs, staring the shadow directly in its nonexistent eyes. It flinches. "But that was never meant to be, was it? I can't turn back the clock. I've changed too much for that. And I can't pretend that this place won't change me more.
"Because that was always my power, wasn't it? Change. The kernel deep inside every side character, that unlimited, unbridled potential just waiting to be realized." Music begins swelling around Tyzias, her voice transitioning into a beautiful and melodic singing voice. "I can make a promise. I can make a plan." She reaches inside her shirt, tugging on something. "I can make a difference. I can take a stand." A powerful roar thunders from the clouds, one that matches the screeching of Seto's Blue-Eyes'. "I can make an effort, if I only understand," With a distinctive click, Tyzias pulls out a body harness from under her clothes, a glowing metal disc affixed to every inch of it. She crushes her glasses in her hands, and parts of Tyzias's skin begin cracking with an eerie blue light. "That I..."
PHASE II: CHANGE (2/2)
NOW IT TRULY BEGINS! Cackling with glee, the beast flings hundreds of shadowy missiles from its back, careening towards the group... only for them to be intercepted. Tyzias stands in front of the Heroes, having moved from the still-collapsing explosion of blood with unprecedented speed. However, she's changed. Her hair hangs long and lose, almost past her waist in its shaggy black glory. The troll(?) is clothed in glowing armor, a coat of harshly contrasting teal and candy red separated by thick black lines with the symbol usually on her t-shirt emblazoned proudly on her chest. Her draconic wings, normally kept hidden (out of everyone present, only Dust has seen them) flare out proudly behind her, and outstretched in each of her hands is a sword.
One is sleek and white, pure with noble grace and heroic intentions. It seems more like the platonic ideal of a sword than anything else; the idea of a blade diluted and tempered into a physical object. It announces its name proudly: Caledfwlch. The other sword is jagged and black, made from tooth and claw and scale. It's like a dragon in its aspect, fierce and proud and dangerous and seeming almost akin to enemy facing Tyzias. It isn't nearly as polite as Caledfwlch, and its name remains unsaid.
Tyzias begins spinning, dancing with her blades in impossibly quick and precise motions as she catches each volley of shadow with the tips of her swords. More and more trails of black and purple nebula follow her as she entraps the missiles, and the group can see other details: every inch of her is corded with muscle and heavily scarred. A thick, brutal burn runs up her right side, scorching her face. Her horns are chipped and damaged from battle. The left side of her face is covered by a metallic, artificial dragon's wing, with the symbol of Cancer burning red right where her eye should be. There's a solidity to all of this that's absent from much of the group's attacks so far. Whatever power Tyzias has summoned, she has brought it all the way to Diatu, not calling a mere memory of it.
The shadow is preoccupied with continuing its assault on its counterpart, snarling as Tyzias perfectly dodges and collections each missile. Which leaves the group with the same question that opened the fight: What will you do?
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The faculty of Diatu Magicademy has its answer.
Don't mind them.
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But this is her battle against her inner demon, the same as they all faced...and though they'd each ultimately had to take the final step alone, there was one thing they could do.
He steps forward, eyes blazing.
"We each have the power to shape our own destines. No one can tell us what we are. And however much we accomplish alone..."
Ugh. Does he really have to be the one doing this? He extends his hands toward the other participants.
"Tyzias doesn't need to seal herself away to stop you! The power of unity can crush you outright!"
As his Blue Eyes gear up for one more attack, thunder crackling in the distance in time with the previous penguin song, he chants a glowing glyph into existence on the ground beneath the group. It's another ward of protection to blunt the shadow's attacks, and he extends it toward Tyzias as best he can.
And as he chants he closes his eyes, drawing on the memories of all the bonds he's forged here. He sees all the people who've found a place in his cold heart. The desire to protect all that he holds close here buoys him in the darkness...along with the burning wish to make sure his new rival (even if she doesn't know it yet) survives to see another duel. Because no one, no matter how much they annoy him, deserves to feel the crush of darkness that he knows too well.
"My strength is yours. All of us. Let's finish it!"
And in an absolute stroke of friendship-overload madness, he extends his hands toward his companions.
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Noa is a little bit in shock honestly. The attacks from everyone else were one thing- he could focus on his music at least, on strengthening everything and plowing forward because he knew what he Wanted to do and knew who he wanted to pull out. And honestly it all proceeds very much like some sort of movie or animation or similar with the big bad enemy thing announcing how hopeless it all would be and...
Uh.
Well Tyzias sure looks different!
It takes Seto's words to snap him from his stupor, he looks to one of his step-brother's hands and back to his ocarina.
These are hard to play without hands. From the carrier on his back however, Adelai gives a click- and reaching over to cover a few holes on the instrument, Noa nods. Alright then- Adelai can control the notes... "Very well- you have my notes," he agrees, taking Seto's hand without question and holding the other for the rest.
The penguins may, in fact, be joining in somehow. At least one person is probably going to find a flipper in their grasp, it's fine.
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Now, all that softness was gone. Yet, she was still Tyzias, only burning brighter than she had ever before this moment.
Adrenaline rushing through his body, Pallidus almost didn't notice the soft pat against his knee. Looking down, one of Noa's penguins blinked up at him, its densely feathered flipper extending up towards him. Perhaps the chill of Pallidus' ice powers spoke to it on some level? Glancing behind it, Pallidus followed the chain of birds and Sundered, all beginning to form a living chain against the Shadow of Tyzias' heart.
Making up his mind, Pallidus nodded, reaching out to take the flipper in hand. "I'll stand with you. My icy spirit is also yours."
Without his hands, Pallidus had less control over the shape of his ice but now that Tyzias was free it hardly mattered. Large, glacial blocks began to form and fall against the Shadow with sickening weight, all the while more snow and wind buffeted the air around the beast, trying to cause it harm and distraction.
Extending his other hand, Pallidus awaited another friendly presence to join in their bond.
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Breathtaking. She's changing. Or maybe she's showing herself for what she really is for the first time: something dangerous and perhaps a little frightening, but not, either,...because she's their friend.
I can't turn back the clock. I've changed too much for that. And I can't pretend that this place won't change me more.
Her words ring so true to him. He has no idea what she has become or who she has been all this time, underneath her facade of chaotic bookish brilliance. She's something else, something otherworldly and Aziraphale feels like he's known--maybe always has known that she is something beyond comprehension, even if he still can't say what. Maybe that had been part of their draw to each other in the first place--two otherworldly beings trying to suppress and hide what they are.
Is she a demi-god? An eldritch beast? Her own world's equivalent of an angel or a demon--or both? Both, perhaps. That she's there holding the legendary sword of Arthur in one hand and a draconic, monstrous sword in the other seems to imply she's something of a balance. Or not a balance, because balance suggests a canceling out (and the angel knows a great deal about that), but a decision. She is both sides of a coin and she's the Decision. She is Change. She is a tipping of scales.
Which means they, too, have a decision to make.
He's so very proud of them (he almost thought I'm so very proud of the humans but they aren't human, now are they? They're an odd assortment of people and maybe that makes the willingness to work together all the grander. In any case, the angel is so very proud of the lot of them and he probably has no reason to be, but he's still...very pleased).
In particular, he looks over at Kaiba extending hand and gives a warm smile. You're trying so hard, young man. They all are. They've tried to be such islands. Tyzias, of all people, has brought them together.
And when he looks up at Crowley, his own face is still a bit pink from the rush of the kiss to his hand--a public acknowledgment of something left unspoken and mostly unchanged for centuries. "I feel like change hasn't come naturally to me," he says as the start of a long-overdue apology. "And I've been a bit deceptive to the lot of them, as well, so I think I don't--"
Whatever he thinks he doesn't want to do anymore is interrupted as an insistent flipper swats his hand-- "Yes, yes, alright." -- until he foregoes his sword, takes the penguin's flipper and lets it urge his free hand into Pallidus'.
I'll accept change. That's what he'll do. And I'll help protect them, aide them with the tools they need or the support or whatever he can offer: so perhaps he doesn't even need his weapon... because some things need not change. I'm an angel. I'm a Principality who gave away his flaming sword. That's always been part of who I am.
With a deep breath and a great unfurling of white wings like a shielding canopy stretching overhead, he draws on the reserves of kindness and love, the power of the Almighty's Grace within him, to offer little minor miracles: protection and healing as he can.
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It's stylish, is what it is.
Off Aziraphale's halted apology, he gives his angel a fond, exasperated look. "Did you do something wrong? Already forgotten. But we should probably slay this dragon-thing before we all pretend to be angry. I think it's vulnerable to sap."
Crowley should be terrified, but he isn't. He understands the urge to take things apart, or at least poke them until they take themselves apart with ease. He understands, maybe today more than ever, turning that urge into something else. Something more powerful than anger or fear. Something that makes decisions, something that evolves.
"You think she's strongest against you trapped in a cage?" he taunts the shadow. "Nah, don't think so. That's where you call the shots. Out here, she's got us. She's free, and she's not alone. And I think we all agree it's time for you to leave."
He squeezes Aziraphale's hand, and his other hand reaches out for his closest schoolmate, keeping the chain unbroken. And he wills hard in Tyzias's direction:
You know this thing. You know what you're capable of. You know what to do, and you're mad and clever enough to do it, so take what you need from all of us. We're with you.
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A little smile, a little banter, the sort they'd shared before in the mysterious building and in general. If she thought any of this would somehow sour Dust -- sour anyone on her, she was wrong. The demon-shadow-thing he didn't much approve of, but everything she'd shown today just felt... right, like pieces of a puzzle slotted into place.
Both hilts slapped into his palm as he seized them, Furae held behind him in readiness while Ahrah pointed straight towards Tyzias. "Forget what you're supposed to be. You are who you are. Revel in it. I'll kill this thing myself if I need to. You can do it alone if you had to. But here we all are. So let's end this. Together."
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She never thought she would be but a footnote--and perhaps in Hydaelyn's history, she is. But now, she is here. And she is not just Yotsuyu, but she has the power of a goddess in her hands. The power to be more than a footnote. To be...a hero?
Hands. She reaches out, takes Crowley's hand in her unburdened one, even as she closes the fan in her other hand with a snap, tucking it in her obi. Either another will take that hand, or she will be directing energy to those who needed it with said hand.
I fought for the same as you; I am the shadow to your light, the eclipse to your sun. I fought to be my own person, not manipulated by others, mistress of my own fate. I fought and died for it, and I claim the power I had there, here. Is it not my right? But it is a right I give to you, to strengthen you in time of need. Be who you were meant to be.
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Tyzias skids back, a ball of swirling shadow caught between her blades. She takes a deep breath. In, out. Gold begins flowing through the Shadow's magic, swirling and changing it to the energy of creation, and with a single flick of her wrist Tyzias launches a beam of bright yellow energy at the monster. It howls, flying back with its titanic wings, and gathers two massive orbs of writhing magic in each of its hands before launching them at Tyzias one after another. She stands there, unflinching as a cliff before the waves breaking upon its face, as both attacks crash against her with gigantic explosions that deal absolutely no damage.
As the Shadow raises both hands above its head, gathering an even larger bomb of null-energy, Tyzias closes her eye, once more taking steady, rhythmic breaths that are precisely in time with the beat that the group feels throbbing throughout their entire beings. Its orb grows larger and larger and larger, eclipsing the platform, then the courtyard below, then the academy itself, and still Tyzias does nothing. But when it's moments away from launching the moon-sized spell at the group (what is this, some kind of shonen?), Tyzias slowly raises her arm and snaps, making a fingergun pointed directly at the attack.
A strand of silver launches through the tip of Tyzias's index finger, piercing the spell and popping it like a balloon. With a furious roar, the Shadow dives towards Tyzias, claws extended. Apparently it's done with the theatrics. Tyzias engages without pause, ducking, parrying, blocking... if it was anybody else, Tyzias's swordplay would be poetry in motion. But it's Tyzias, and it looks like pure butchery instead. Not a millimeter moved too far, not an iota of energy wasted; it's so dry and technical that it would almost be boring to watch if it wasn't executed with such dazzling speed, skill, and precision.
Her first two strikes whip past the thing's guard despite its rapidly multiplying arms, and the four after that nearly batter the shadow to its knees. But it resurges with ferocity multiplied, ferally slashing and biting at Tyzias with enough power to make the blood below it ripple with the force. It almost seems to have the troll(???) on the ropes for a few moment; Tyzias merely defends, rooted to her spot as she deflects each blow with what looks like actual effort on her part. But those well-versed in combat can tell that this is merely a facade. Tyzias's single eye is drinking in every aspect of this shadow: its anatomy, its fighting style, the way it moves, its guard, everything.
And when the time comes, it's over in an instant.
Tyzias's heart shines bright blue as dragon's blood begins flowing through her veins, levitating her with the sheer force. Then she moves. It's too fast to track for regular humans, and even the others present can barely see Tyzias as she cuts the shadow to ribbons. The roar of the sound barrier being broken again and again and again and again is almost enough to knock down the other Heroes, breaking their bond.
But not quite. And so Tyzias continues. In between a blink of an eye, she switches to knifes, tossing dozens of them into its back. Then to an assault rifle, peppering it full of melodious bullets. Then back to swords, then to magic of a kind never seen before on this world... this continues for a full half-minute before Tyzias finally kicks its knees it and shoots it in the back of the head with a pure-white pistol, execution style.
And yet it still kneels there, dazed, but not dead. Tyzias thrusts her hand back, yanking something out of the group assembled, the same Pulse that bound them together: snaking red veins of pure bond, twisting and warping and forming into seven weapons at Tyzias's side:
A gleaming white sword of smooth scale and humming blue energy, its crossguard the wings of a white dragon.
A blade of ones and zeros, the wings of a mechanical angel forming its edges.
A simple steel sword wreathed in flames.
A glacial rapier of pure ice, elegant in its refinement.
A zweihander that seems more purring black engine than blade, its headlights blazing with hellfire.
A scimitar still in the midst of being forged, stuck between raw potential and honed skill but deadly nonetheless.
And a blade of pure moonlight, shining bright.
She thrusts her palm at the shadow, and the blades fly at it in unison, ready to deal the final blow... but they stop an inch from its face as Tyzias looks at her foe, an odd expression on her face. "...this is what you want, isn't it?
"As long as we're playing by your rules in this Calamity, you can keep coming back as many times as you want. You want to fight me forever. But fuck that.
"I'm gonna blow this whole circus apart."
Tyzias calls back the blades, forming an outward-facing circle in between her wings. From her back bursts those same candy-red arteries; thicker, burning with some otherworldly fire, and growing as they shoot past the platform of blood and into the nebula enclosing the school, piercing the heavens. Everyone present feels something horrible lurch in their gut. The only way to describe it is that it feels like Tyzias is giving the Calamity a heart attack, and it's difficult not to think of what would happen if she turned these powers on the universe proper instead of this gross mockery of it. Like what the group felt with Caledfwlch, they all instantly know the name of this atrocity:
Red Miles.
The nebula begins tearing apart, showing hints of the night sky beyond as the Miles tear it to pieces. The platform begins to crumble, falling apart, but thankfully a much less destructive branch of the Miles scoops up all those who can't fly before they can plummet to their dooms, gently sloping downwards to carry the Heroes with it as Tyzias and the shadow...
Descend.
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