(no subject)

[paracelsus-ftw.livejournal.com]

~

She stretched, power sizzling from toes to her fingers where they wrapped a familiar old tool, long put away. Virginia wore an old form, utterly unfashionable, but the power flowed better when the lady gave way to the goddess.

Vulgar, really, this display. A lady shouldn't have to resort to force.

Still, there was work to be done, and retirement did grow boring. Besides, their so-called vacation hadn't included a single decent cosmo, and the goddess was feeling piqued.

She swept her scythe through the assembled stewards that ranked under the ship that she had designated as hers to handle. Power crackled from those touched and arced like electricity from one to another until the ranks crumbled like dust.

Rather than dissipating with the targets' destruction, the coruscating light returned to its mistress, wrapping her in energy stolen from the Stewards and raising the goddess from the ground.

She rose, wrapped in that crackling power that shot toward the ship, touching, rebounding, and exploring. She rose, and the light grew, cruel red, teasing orange, incandescent streaks of blue, until the goddess floated in the air level with the ship.

Here then, was why those who ruled the City were gods, and not mere bureaucrats. Here then, was the wild power that they held in check.

Here then, was the goddess as she swept her scythe toward the ship and the power grew to a brilliant, blinding burst that dissipated, leaving absolutely nothing in its wake but a powder-fine dust that floated down on the City below with a faint hint of attar of roses.

~

The blade was heavy. Heavier than Lenny remembered. And this was boring. Too boring for Lenny’s patience. Had they come back to be so boring? Had they come back to be dull and save the citizens (parasites) from killing (saving) themselves? Whyyyy? Why had they done it? They wouldn’t care, just like Lenny didn’t care. Lenny didn’t want to care. Lenny wanted to go back, drink tea, and watch the sun set on another place.

And what Lenny wanted, Lenny got. People made sure of that. Lenny made sure of that. When Lenny wanted tea, Lenny got tea; however, when the urge to sit and stare and watch the citizens (bastardized, infernal children) fight (die) became too great, Lenny didn’t get to sit and stare and watch.

Lenny had to carry the heavy broadsword and wear the heavy helmet, and Lenny had to carve into the side of a ship full of hideous and disgusting Stewards and their hideous and disgusting spawn. They were ickier than Sabine’s little babies, stinking up the City with their necessities.

Tch.

Lenny pulled the sword out from the metal sheath. It clacked against the metal armor—ah, spoon on saucer—and the armor slinked and sighed and shifted against itself. Lenny wasn't bred for fighting, no, but fighting was necessary. There were things to protect here, that’s what they had said, and this was what was to be done.

So Lenny did the assigned duty, didn’t flinch as the blade punctured the side of the ship and burned it hotter than sol, didn’t raise an eyebrow when twisted metal and tubing and invaders incinerated in the flare. Nothing was to be left, nothing would be left. The scorched ship burned into air, reformed into steam, evaporated. There was power here, as the blade made to sweep through another time: a final time.

The wave of heat was harsh, but Lenny only plunged the broadsword deeper, merely contemplating the afternoon’s taste of tea.

~

Birds everywhere. It smells like harpy territory. Mouse wrinkles her nose as it flattens against her face, the olive tan receding into the rich leather of her body armor. She's creamy again, a soft snowy white with pink eyes as her ears twist into shapes that better resemble limp horns. Oops, Virginia's scythe causes the air to hiss as it removes a ship from the premises. Mouse giggles cheerfully, but it sounds more like a wheezing rasp. Her pointed toes with talons for heels (were her feet really in there?) land along the deck of her targeted vessel.

"Go away, birdies, carry off your pri~ze...!" She waves her hands at the harpies flying their citizens to safety. Each of her fingers bears an exaggeratedly long black nail.

Mouse's smile is wide and brilliant. Her teeth are brilliantly sharp as they gnash into metal, jaw unhinging at several times her own size to devour the mothership in successive bites. The Stewards are no exception to her palate.

~

Her babies were crying. They were hurting, and she didn't want that at all. She hadn't wanted the vacation, to leave them, because goodness, what happened to babies when you left them alone.

They withered.

Sabine had abandoned the cute smile and the nurturing gaze. She'd cast that off, donned her armor, so much darker than she usually was, it made her face cast dark, made her hair dark, her body dark, and she despised darkness. But she despised the cries of her children even more. At least, with the thick leather of the armor, the boots, one couldn't tell the nail polish on her left foot was chipped.

Her palm moved, thin fingers twisted, and the copper glove, the rings on each joint connected with fine links of chain, laid to rest on the hull of the invaders' ship. Slowly, then suddenly, the metal began to rust, corrode and die. Where the metal withered, the Stewards touched, and those that touched began to wither, too, to shrink and then swell, before the plants burst from their flesh. Ivy wrapped pale flesh, morning glory decorated the crude armor, and saffron dotted the eye sockets of a beast of war.

Sabine never did like fighting. But her full lips tugged into a small, satisfied smile.

Her seedlings would be needing her.

~

"…'fraid o' heights… 'fraid'o'heights… fraid'o – GOD DAMNED LOW CAL CHICKEN, FUCKIN' STEER."

Belatedly, 4000 m above ground and plunging, it occurred to the noble gent Paracelsus that his Harpy mount was going places.

Unfortunately, it was also amenable to dragging his corpse with it.

The camera was biting on his fur, dragging his head more than that inexplicably Godawful ears. Took'em long to get here, and they all paid the price. Due as due as what-the-hell-ever. His body was ruined, much as the weasel form had its appeal, and their effing pride and joy, their lovely citizens hadn't even got the hint of their home-made videos.

So they brought the cavalry.

A cavalry which had looked at Paulie's new animal couture with distinct culinary intent those first five minutes, and which he was now supposed to lord and master.

Because clearly, big bad bird listened to ickle, ugly rat.

Brilliant. His whiskers itched him. Brilliant.

Well, he owed them a battle speech now, and he thought he had something in mind for the last assault. What the fuck was it – that stooge called it often, schmuck came, schmuck left – same difference for Paulie. No substance. But the battle cry stuck, and, upright in his seat and squealing atop his miniature lungs, he remembered. All the featherless chicken were looking by now - really looking, like he were that prim morsel from that morning's dino breakfast – waving his wooden sword, he pointed it eastwards: " FOR SPAAAAAAAAAAAAARTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The harpies blinked. And blinked. And blinked.

Then suddenly Paulie's mount was at it again, and they were all plummeting, the sky was spinning, his camera was also going places, the alien-type-ship-thing was whacked, chickens were bitching, explosions everywhere, he did not get the number of that truck –

"Daaaaaaaammmmmmiiiiiiiit, I can't discount the damage on'em birds, God daaaaaaaamn - !"

- and well, the sky might have been all a blaze, but at least the big bird got the hint.

~

The inhabitants of this place were creatures that Maemi had never once cared for. They weren't even worthy of his pity. He had been called cruel by many, but it was hardly out of malice on his part. He didn't get any satisfaction out of tricking them in their dealings, and he felt no anger when they brought out even more work for him to handle.

He helped them now simply because that was what one did for ants on an ant farm. He helped them because it was part of his job, and because observing them was one of the many ways to pass the time--and because this was their territory. Pride was not really a trait he carried, but he did know that he preferred to stay alive, and not protecting these insects might compromise that.

Already he was wary of the harpies as they tore into the hulls--he would never forget the last one that bit him that day--and kept his distance from them as he spotted one of the Steward's vessels hovering over the waters just beyond the beach.

His childish form was as deceptive as it was convenient, but today was not a day to worry about conserving his energy, because he did have a job to do.

He was not a boy, but he was not a man either. Categories like that simply didn't apply to someone as ancient as him--they were just different shells of his housing different levels of power, and right now he only needed a bit more power than normal. A few inches of added height and slightly sharpened facial structure was the only change in his appearance. He didn't much care for armor or even a solid weapon to brandish. The waters were versatile enough to act as both.

Hovering just beside the large ship that was invading the ocean's sky, Maemi showed no mercy as he called on his own innate power, pulling the waters up to a height that shadowed over the beaches before letting the wave crash over the hunk of metal and the disgusting hive-mind that resided inside. It was with a soft whistle from his lips that a frigid wind seized the vessel, freezing it in midair. But no no, he wouldn't stop at that.

A spiral of salt water shot up from below, flashing like a whip to slice the ship in half, sending it plummeting to the ocean's depths, and for a moment that ten second smirk did grace Maemi's features.

Let them drown.


[ooc: COMMENT LOG IS A GO. Battle mode: operational. Anyone who wants a piece of'em aliens can fight long and fight hard and fight dirty. If you're addressing a particular deity or player, please make a note in your comment header! AND IF SOMEONE WANTS TO CATCH A WEASEL, PAULIE IS UP FOR IT. Videos explanations to follow!]

Comments

SOMEONE NEED A WEASLE CATCHER?

[monsterepellant.livejournal.com]

*Doumeki had been watching the harpies work from the window in Autor's room in the Opera Abandoned, but as the deities attack he pushes to his feet, finagling his way downstairs through a series of hops and jumps, being careful of his swollen ankle, he managed to make his way outside of the doors, leaning on the large, now open piece of wood for support as he shaded his eyes with one hand and turned his face upwards toward the sky to watch*

WEASEEEEEEEEL

[paracelsus-ftw.livejournal.com]

He fell.

And fell.

And fell.

Not silently.

" FLYING WEASEL! FLYING WEASEL! OH MY GOD, IT'S A WEASEL AND IT'S GONNA CRASH, MAKE WAY, MAKE WAY, FLYIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNG WEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL...!!!!!"

- landing on something sooooft and smooooooooth, and oh, that rib, and - was that a head? Grinning, "Bless ye. Was it as good for you as it was fo' me?"

NOT THE AMAZING BOUNCING FERRET?

[monsterepellant.livejournal.com]

That.....hurt. Quite a bit more than Doumeki would've liked, the force knocking him back onto the pavement onto his rear as a weasel landed on his head. Definitely not Doumeki's first choice of activities

"...ow." he stated.

[dubia-lux.livejournal.com]

L had been walking through the square with the slow caution of a beast on the constant look out for predators. He had spent most of the war indoors but the sight of the Harpies swooping and wheeling overhead had coaxed him out.

With one hand shading his dark eyes from the glare of the sun, he watched.

[mechanicalmice.livejournal.com]

"I'm so fuuuuull...!"

Mouse rolled along the ground, still looking reed thin but no less unchanged from her true form.

[dubia-lux.livejournal.com]

L drew back a step, surprised. This was not the norm.

".....You..."

For some reason her presence was familiar, as if he had been near her or watched by her before.

"I know you..."

[thunderwitch.livejournal.com]

Cirucci had gone outside to look.

Fucking birds, fucking harpies. Her lips had drawn to a pursed frown, eying the sky. She was sorely tempted to rip one out of the sky, for what the last one had done to her, bled her so badly.

... Tempting. Very tempting.

[by-tea.livejournal.com]

Back down on the ground now, back down and closer to te--

Oh.

Oh.

Lenny remembered this one, enough to get closer, enough to investigate.

"Lenny remembers yoooou. Like our show~?"

[thunderwitch.livejournal.com]

One brow arched, and Cirucci tossed one bit of her hair, purple eyes falling to the deity, unimpressed as of yet.

"I don't fancy harpies." She finally said, despite her own avian appearence.

[bound-by-time.livejournal.com]

Gun in hand, careful to keep a eye out for stewards that had wrecked the large glass windows of the Cathedral, Rosette Christopher peered out of the shattered remains of one of the windows of the long hallways, some bodies littering the ground outside and inside the hall, fallen more by claw and talon of her brother and Arrancar then bullets.

There were birds, no, people? People birds, like something out of a Greek myth gone array, Harpies were attacking alien space ships, tearing them right from the sky. And amongst them, were the deities- and a weasel?

“What the hell kind of drug has been let loose in the air?” She whispered to herself lowly, blue eyes watching a ship, burning and smoking, move as if in slow motion though the air, heading for a burial place in the ocean that surrounded the city.

Oh the city, the war wasted city. Even now there were stewards on the ground; less inclined it seemed to spread their Benevolence then stay alive. Dispite the unending numbers, they were winning.

“I can’t believe this is for real.” Joshua better be ok, with all these bird-women-things in the air- he was likely to get over excited.

Comic books be damned.

[virginia-lupus.livejournal.com]

Virginia settled to the ground, the power dancing along her scythe and dissipating. She looked around and caught sight of the girl peering out the cathedral window.

"You there, girl. Get me a drink. A cosmopolitan would do a treat."

Open to all

[lady-turk.livejournal.com]

Although Elena could have happily continued on with battling the Stewards, co-piloting alongside chaos, it didn't quite seem like the other pilot himself wanted to do the same as herself.

The sounds of battle. The blood. The danger. The rush of guns blazing and of fist swinging. So long as there wasn't anyone to worry about in particular, Elena found such a situation to be familiar and most welcoming. Fun even.

Still, even if she found things fun, taking a bit of a breather and a drink of water, to sit idly by and watch everything going on was enjoyable enough as well.

There was a small smirk that danced on Elena's lips as she did just that, watching the deities and harpies and Stewards battling it out.

[toonurturing.livejournal.com]

Sabine sighed softly, fingers curling and the copper joint rings cracking, the fine chain flashing against her dark leather armor.

"You alright, seedling?" Her voice, though, was still soft, still nurturing, despite her harsh appearence, the soft landing beside the woman.

[henkonasuisho.livejournal.com]

Zaheela had been pacing, ordering her aides to continue escorting people to safety,and binding wounds, occasionally interrupted by lazer fire and a well honed blade to a steward's head. Nerves strained, temper thin, ordering nurse and volunteer alike, she was blind sided by the spectacle of... what was one-sided power battle.

Pen stopped scratching in her notebook as she watched.

[toonurturing.livejournal.com]

Break time, to watch her seeds sprout out of the corpses of those awful Stewards, watch their ships rust under her copper ordained hand.

"Busy, sweetheart?" She made no noise, merely dark shadow slipping near before it took form.

Open To All.

[seduced-jehova.livejournal.com]

Thomas...He didn't even know what to think of this nonsense, anymore. The members of the "Resistance" were fighting alongside Gods now, with Harpies at their backs and fronts and who knew what else moving with them through the thick of it, and...It just didn't make sense. It sounded like a trap, looked like a trap, and felt like he was in some sort of crazy science-fiction novel about to end on a sour note. The Deities had appeared in force after the actual warring was almost done with. They could have crushed the Invaders at any time, at any moment, with ease.

So why now?

Why here?

It didn't make any sense.

[virginia-lupus.livejournal.com]

Well, the girl in the Cathedral had been a quickly dismissed disappointment.

This boy wasn't hard on the eyes. Perhaps he would do.

"You there. Boy." Virginia stalked toward him, still wearing the old form of the misnamed Virgin Wolf. "Be a dear and get a goddess a drink."

Open to all who wants a piece of the Ice Bear.

[panserbjornking.livejournal.com]

There was a pounding in his ears. A hunger in his veins. It was the call of war, and Lyra's prediction had proven true. Whether or not she would stay out of harm's way was up to her, but he knew what he had to do. His blood, his nature called for it.

With a slam, he shoved his helmet onto his head, shaking his hindquarters briefly, and began to go towards the destruction and carnage at a trot, then quickly picking up the pace. The Panserbjorn king roared a battle cry and charged, blood-lust taking over him.

[mechanicalmice.livejournal.com]

And the mousely deity cartwheeled into his way to hold a hand out.

"STOOOOOOOOP!"

Maybe she thought he might actually listen!

Open to all

[light-lost.livejournal.com]

She knew she couldn't do much of anything; but she could still tend to the wounded in her own clumsy way - even if it was just getting them to a proper doctor as she had with Thomas.

She continued to scour the fields, looking for the wounded and worrying that she wasn't going to get to them in time. She needed to know more. She needed to stay in the library and read more - to be able to help more in times like this.

[toonurturing.livejournal.com]

"How very kind."

The voice was the voice of a mother, a lover, a friend, all the benevolence and warmth of these figures, but her form was harsh, all angles and dark colors, black leather armor and dark hair and wicked eyes, with the only color in the bright copper glove over her right hand, standing over the dead Steward she had taken to grace, a saffron flower blooming in it's eye socket, casting the human a look over her shoulder where she'd suddenly appeared.

Open for Business

[venomouselle.livejournal.com]

Picking off birds harpies? Whatever those feathered things were-they didn't matter. Elle was out to kill as many Stewards as she could. Those fuckers killed her. She wished there was a different fate to give them. A worse one. For today, the Hattori Hanzo katana lay hidden and resting away from the battle and bloodshed. Exquisite death from legendary Japanese steel was not for these ugly aliens.

Elle reloaded her M16. Other movement in the air caught her attention. "What the fuck?"

[by-tea.livejournal.com]

The click of guns caught Lenny's attention. Blade back out, helmet on tight, Lenny slinked across the street, dragging the broadsword on the road while moving, the pavement bubbling a bit as the energy conducted down, down, to the tip and outward.

Was this a gun? It had been so long, too long. Lenny wanted it, just to look.

"Looking for blood and tea, Elle, hmm~?" Lenny stepped up and grinned, taller and metal armor glinting.

OOC

[bealright.livejournal.com]

Sakura asks if catching the weasel means that she can keep it. D: Because you're so cuuuute.

Re: OOC

[ruxi.livejournal.com]

I'm afraid Doumeki caught the weasel on his head but Sakura is more than capable of tracking them down, if she wants? *__*b