05-08-2018, 08:50 PM
Quote:Age: 474 years (part 3)
Jagged wrought iron impacted against Viola's bare neck, yet bounced off harmlessly and soundlessly as if being pushed away by an invisible wall. Never sparing the man a glance, Viola gently curled her fingers, raising one hand and waving dismissively - like a princess rejecting a cup of tea or forced to attend a public event and making a vague attempt to uphold her image. While the other soldiers simply stared at her apparent invulnerability, oblivious of the complex magical spell that had countered his strike, one of her right-most blades shimmered. Air rippled above the cerulean sword, a magic-spawned heat haze brought forth by undetectable energies.
Slower than the other swords, it swung outwards sloppily, retaliating to the mortal that dared strike the undying mage. A dull swoosh reverberated through the air, making the might behind the enchanted blade clear. Viola remotely swung it with ease, but any soldier could tell how heavy - or powerful - it felt to observe.
Her target's training almost saved his life. Unlike some of his comrades, he wasn't stupid enough to try and block so much force, especially when it was heading towards his neck. Thinking quickly, or simply acting on instinct, he jerked his head back, leaning partially to the side furthest from the strike and taking a step at the same time.
A small sigh escaped his mouth, and a faint paint of exertion escaped Viola's. He staggered, reaching up to the throat he thought he'd protected. Blood dripped through his fingers, spilling and pooling in waves even as he plastered his palm over the phantom gash. His form crumpled to the floor. The kill was clean - in a more literal sense than the figurative one. Viola was untouched. Neither she nor her weapons bore a spec of blood.
Disorganised, three spears thrust towards her as she tried to take another step. None made it close. Faint ripples of blue mana swarmed through the air. The weapons disintegrated to ashes under her disinterested gaze, leaving their holders unharmed for the moment.
Viola's left wrist swirled in a similar motion to brushing the dust off an invisible desk. After an inconsequential delay, a harsh wave of magic shunted the trio to the side, faint lilac-blue coating their bodies yet offering no protection from the forces they supplied. Two cracked their skulls cracked against sandstone pillars, either slaying them instantly or merely shutting down their minds. The third, whose collision was made softer by one of his comrades, slumped. Weakly, his muscles twitched, but his ragdoll body refused to leave the floor.
More yells rang out, but before the ranks behind her could get any ideas, two of her swords swivelled to block them off, spinning around like propellers. Reaching her would be like jumping into a blender. Charred black scorch marks were cut into the dusty red carpet, with some tears running deeper to the shabby foundations. Flanks guarded, Viola allowed her eyes to flicker over those who remained in front, crossing her two remaining swords symmetrically and close to deal with any stragglers who might obstruct her exit.
Infiltrate the palace. Kill the king. Return alive. That was her mission, although collateral was not frowned upon. Some of her commanders might have even encouraged it, had they been privy to the operation. It was necessary. Cutting the head off the snake to end the war sooner. She was saving lives... not that it would matter as the centuries passed. Ending existences early was nothing in the grand scheme of things, it just felt different when she was the one doing it. Protecting herself was one thing, as was protecting Rachael all those years ago, but this was a direct act of aggression. She was slaying a ruler to incite a civil war, potentially fueling a deep hate towards the alliance for generations. While her true foresight rarely extended beyond a few seconds, she could almost sense the famine and suffering her actions would bring to these lands.
Viola wasn't sure how to feel. Any internal conflict was hidden by her inexpressive outwards demeanour. Blank and emotionless.
Time belonged to her. She could muse for years without a second ticking by, but nothing going on in her head would change the future she'd already carved. She was not omnipotent.
Relaxing her magicks and allowing the world to progress as normal, she became idly aware of something hot making its way through the soldiers. A person. A mage. He spoke in an alien language just like the others, giving orders with confidence.
She cocked her head as the men parted for him, taking away any remaining wounded or dead and fleeing to the edges of the room.
He was young. Not like her, but the boy couldn't have been older than seventeen. He held one scimitar lightly in each hand, each gave off a warm hue. Like the setting sun.
Viola didn't stop and maintained her forwards trot, each small step announced with the small tap of the hard soles of her shoes.
Repositioning into the doorway, he made no effort to prevent her advance. His skin was smooth, and his dark chocolate hair made small curls above his bushy eyebrows. He lacked muscles, but was lean and carried an air of discipline about him. Unlike his king, he kept his magic active within his body, preventing Viola from targetting him directly. Regardless, she still had her swords. His two against her four.
"You, child. Stop. You pay. Make... erm... right. You make right." He sheathed one sword to place a fist on his heart, before extending the limb outwards to her. An invitation. Something to shake. "I forgive you." His speech was broken, and but despite the thick accent, Viola got the gist. Her spinning aetherblades drifted to a halt, yet still levitated protectively nearby. Similarly, the two crossed in front of her spread, yet could readily be snapped back together should the need arise.
She stopped moving, eyeing up the lingering hand. Waiting but saying nothing.
"You young. You learn." He shook his head gently, before bending his knees to put his head level with hers. "I teach you be good. Killing bad."
Viola blinked, knowing there was a misunderstanding between them. Regardless, she found herself listening to his efforts, unsure how to react.
Fumbling, sheather his other blade, then unlatched both scabbards and cast them to the sides. They landed with a clatter. Defenceless to the time mage before him. "You understand? I Damien." He gently tapped his chest with his new free set of fingers. "Damien friend." His lips curled up into a forced smile. It was warming nonetheless.
Twang.
Viola caught a crossbow bolt with her magic, fired from a trigger-happy soldier sensing an opportunity, or perhaps it was part of Damien's plan.
The man visibly recoiled, speaking in his mother tongue once again. Clearly distressed. He gave Viola a brief look of sadness, then instinctively reached for his weapons expecting his 'efforts' to have been turned to nought. Panic.
As he scrambled to the side, desperately avoiding her inert blades, Viola calmly walked around him. Placing one foot in front of the other, she left him behind. It was time to head home.