08-24-2018, 11:31 AM
Ascendancy barely met her eyes, the flick of his fingers assigning aid only after he assured the welfare of his closest companions. She hadn't noticed the marksmen until they stood down, and only vaguely acknowledged the two who apparently interceded between her and those pinprick promises of death. What the fuck either of them thought they were doing was beyond her, and she had no spare energy to delve into the duplicity of possible ulterior motives.
Because the residue of the creature's loss was growing out like thorns in her chest, a solid wall ensuring her impotence against retaliation. She slammed into it. Again and again.
"Don't fucking touch me," she hissed when the medics swarmed closer. Though she must appear as something summoned from the darkest depths of hell, most of the blood coating her was Jaxen's idea of a joke. Only superficial wounds scraped her wrists and knees, the tending of which was way down Ori's current list of priorities. She blotted her nose against the back of her hand, the blood now thinning to a trickle. If something inside had broken, she doubted mere men would be any help in fixing it.
Vitriol burned like venom with no outlet, feeding off itself. Her fists clenched, drawing strength from somewhere; railing against the weakness even if her body could not yet stand.
At the bar where he fought with Giovanni, Nox had had a talent for irritating those around him. It seemed an undiminished skill. He drew Ascendancy's ire and blame like an easy target, hooking under skin, spilling the scent of secrets. Her lips twisted grimly. They thought to fear only one escaped creature, unaware that by now the connection had spread like disease among all those who still slumbered.
Tonight, they started a war.
No one thought to ask her, at least not yet. Perhaps no one considered that the creature's voice wound like poison in Ori's head in the moment's after the power was snatched but it remained in her flesh. She absorbed the information offered now. That the key was an icon; a tablet, probably in possession of Regus. Given current company, she doubted she was the only one listening intently to that.
But promises could wait. Ori finally pressed back onto her heels. A hellish gaze raked everyone left, marking faces and the sides they had chosen. Few paid her the slightest mind, like roadkill swept to the curb now she posed no obvious threat. She breathed in sharp. Throat raw, though she pushed the rasp of her voice anyway, into a single demand.
"Give. It. BACK."
Because the residue of the creature's loss was growing out like thorns in her chest, a solid wall ensuring her impotence against retaliation. She slammed into it. Again and again.
"Don't fucking touch me," she hissed when the medics swarmed closer. Though she must appear as something summoned from the darkest depths of hell, most of the blood coating her was Jaxen's idea of a joke. Only superficial wounds scraped her wrists and knees, the tending of which was way down Ori's current list of priorities. She blotted her nose against the back of her hand, the blood now thinning to a trickle. If something inside had broken, she doubted mere men would be any help in fixing it.
Vitriol burned like venom with no outlet, feeding off itself. Her fists clenched, drawing strength from somewhere; railing against the weakness even if her body could not yet stand.
At the bar where he fought with Giovanni, Nox had had a talent for irritating those around him. It seemed an undiminished skill. He drew Ascendancy's ire and blame like an easy target, hooking under skin, spilling the scent of secrets. Her lips twisted grimly. They thought to fear only one escaped creature, unaware that by now the connection had spread like disease among all those who still slumbered.
Tonight, they started a war.
No one thought to ask her, at least not yet. Perhaps no one considered that the creature's voice wound like poison in Ori's head in the moment's after the power was snatched but it remained in her flesh. She absorbed the information offered now. That the key was an icon; a tablet, probably in possession of Regus. Given current company, she doubted she was the only one listening intently to that.
But promises could wait. Ori finally pressed back onto her heels. A hellish gaze raked everyone left, marking faces and the sides they had chosen. Few paid her the slightest mind, like roadkill swept to the curb now she posed no obvious threat. She breathed in sharp. Throat raw, though she pushed the rasp of her voice anyway, into a single demand.
"Give. It. BACK."