Quote:Age: 474 (part 2)
Ripples spread through the king's skeleton, his own passive magics nothing compared to the child before him. Like a hollow gelatin shell, his skull compacted, falling in on itself with such force that smaller fragments of gore and muck sprayed outwards with such force that some painted the walls of the hall. His brain squelched, oozing through the cracks in his cranium like mincemeat. Speckles of blood floated in the air between his corpse and the ageless mage, emulsified in the small translucent patches of blue magic that caught them before they could tarnish her appearance.
The limp body slouched back onto the throne, and all at once the floating lifeblood fell, landing with a rapid series of pitter-patters. Viola spun, her two long tails of hair twirled gently around her as if tempted to form a cocoon. Two cold magical swords fizzled behind her back, initially crossed in an X before carving outwards, one swinging to each side like a pair of scissors decapitating an invisible head. They spiralled and pivoted, moving like invisible wings as each handle remained in place relative to her shoulder blades.
With a hot burning snap, they arched backwards, snapping off the tips of two threatening spears in perfect sync. Meanwhile, two more aetherblades materialised in front of the mage, held parallel yet asymmetrically. One with a handle on the left side was held above the other, each facing opposite directions.
Viola walked towards her shadow, the sun setting behind her, its rays shining through the colourful window and onto her like a spotlight, leaving its dead king in the shadows beneath it. Blue water-like ripples shone in columns around her dark orange silhouette, curving in time with her blades.
The guards faltered, but a stuttering foreign yell that soon broke into a more aggressive cry pushed them into motion. The duo Viola had previously disarmed glanced at each other, before drawing a short sword - much closer to a dagger in their hands - from their boots. Whistling arrows shot from the sides of the room, following shallow parabolic trajectories with little fear for the bulk of their own men. Yet, due to the step-like benches each of them used, they were able to get a clear angle at their target, despite her being much shorter than the forces in their way. Eleven twanks had rung out, no synchronicity between as each had tried to be the first to fire a shot. The elite.
Light shimmered, and Viola took a step forwards impossibly fast. Nothing like a dash or hop, just a normal step. Time had bent around her in the brief moment. The arrows, missing her completely, pierced into the ranks on either side of her former position, slaying three of their own men and wounding two more. A twelveth archer lowered his bow before drawing two curved scimitars and barging his way through the barely-moving forces.
By the time Viola had made her fourth step, the spearmen had closed in from the front, the long ranks coalescing into a mob blocking her path.
"Disperse."
A dead word escaped her mouth, as she neither grimaced nor grinned, face cold and emotionless. Her eyes were glazed over, appearing unfocused to the soldiers as her irises looked solely towards the door she couldn't see behind them.
The men weren't stupid. None charged as her swords gently clinked together, dancing by her sides and breaking formation based on her analysis of her opponents. Her body clocked at one speed, but her mind ticked at another. They stood in a three-quarter-circle, spears pointing towards her throat. Two weaker links were behind her, armed with their toothpick blades. Almost comically, dual blue swords fluttered, disarming the swords in an instant as she pushed forward. The metal clattered to the floor, leaving the two men unarmed. With nothing better to do, they fell back, dragging away a wounded companion each and allowed more spearmen to fill their place. Viola didn't acknowledge them and continued her steady walk to the door. Metal tips approached her throat from the front, but with her swords at the ready, she pushed on undeterred.
Feeling lucky, a soldier on her right lunged, trying to close the inches between himself and victory.