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 RIP [Plot]

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Metaloneus

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PostSubject: RIP [Plot]   Thu Aug 31, 2017 7:12 pm

"Did you live there, was that your home?" Christian's tone reeked of impatience and short temper. He stood in front of a cold, metal desk in a small room, otherwise empty besides the two chairs and the desk. The man on the other side of that desk was Stephen Cordell, and that was all Christian was able to get from him. He was bound, legs and arms, and unable to move.

"Fuck you." The voice spat back at him. Christian could tell, this man was disgusted and enraged. He knew there was no way this man was more enraged than him though, not after Lennie payed the price because of this man.

Christian moved to Cordell's side of the table, grabbing hold of his neck, forcing his head against the cold metal table of the interrogation room. "Listen, I'm not pretending that I'm the biggest guy in this city. But the biggest guy in this city? He works for a close friend, and I'll be honest with you, not a lot of people are rooting on your life. You can make this easy on yourself, answer my questions, and maybe even get out of here. Or I can get someone else who I know for sure can get the answers out of you." He said, his voice getting more intense. It was just a bluff; part of the training he'd received so long ago.

Stephen looked up, his face dirty, his hair wild and unkempt. There was a crazed look in his eyes, one of resistance. Then, amidst the silence, a laughter came from the man's mouth. It was a wild laughter, as though what Christian had said was genuinely hilarious. It left the legacy of Mercury silent, wondering what in the world was this guy's story.

-----

Black Creek was many miles behind him now, and New Rome was states behind him. He hadn't been without the purpose of New Rome since he was just eight years old. It was all so strange to him, and the amount of questions he had outweighed the answers by too far of a margin. Now, here he was, trying to track down a group of people he knew so little about. The senate had been so weary of letting him find them with a group of people with him, one of them even being a Virgo. He wondered so many things about them, and had so few ways to find these answers. It had been a few days of the search, with only a few clues from Black Creek to look for a new trace. For all he knew, these people had just disbanded and left anyway.

Christian could tell, he was probably beginning to look a lot like Stephen Cordell did when they found him. He hadn't shaved or showered since he'd left New Rome, something he'd done every night while he was in the Legion. Sweat caked his clothes and hair, and dirt layered on his skin. He must have looked like someone who got lost in the wilderness, but he wasn't looking to find mortal civilization. The legacy was in no rush, surely, he now had all the time in the world to determine if this link was worth searching for. If he eventually did determine he was looking for nothing, then he'd have to come up with a new game plan, if one could be made.

Christian heard leaves crumble not far. He figured it was a squirrel or a coyote, he'd passed by many the last few days. Of course, the worse alternative was that it'd be a monster. He swore, each day he was out here, they got better at finding him. He'd been spared so far today, but mercy didn't seem to be his friend these days.
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PostSubject: Re: RIP [Plot]   Thu Aug 31, 2017 11:52 pm


Della was restless. Thats all she ever was these days. She felt like a wounded deer, waiting to be attacked again, knowing that the next strike would be her downfall. Then again, thats what most of her people felt. They all waited with baited breath for the next attack to come, waiting to hear the birds of the forest fall silent once more. It reminded her of before they found her. She knew she wouldn't have lasted long on her own. Yet she's not sure that she'll last long with them anymore. She still has to try though. There was no use giving up. She was going to act like everything was a-okay, because it kept morale up, something they were running short of these days.

She was getting used to the forest now. She was starting to get familiar with when the earth rose and fell, where the trees were fallen, where the small stream traveled. She knew exactly where to go to inact her spell, something she was even more familiar with, she didn't even need her book anymore. It was a bit harder to cast with her arm in a sling. Yet she was grateful she didn't have a more serious injury. She was alive, that was pretty impressive.

Della found a small clearing of forest, where the mossy logs provided a nice resting place for the weary traveler, where the edge of her spell would be marked. She sat down on the log, closing her eyes and clearing her head, and then she started the spell, whispering only loud enough for herself to hear. The words were familiar on her tongue, a latin poem speaking of safety and warmth. It made her feel at home, and it eased any anxieties running through her head. She felt the energy flowing through her, from her hands, to her heart, to her core, to her feet, and out into the world around her. She had almost finished, but thats when she heard it. The birds stopped singing.

Della's eyes snapped open, and she was cut off mid-word, which turned into a different one "ignis" fire. By the time the last syllable left her lips, flames curled up from her open hand, swirling above it and growing into the size of a melon. She could feel the heat in her hand, but it did not hurt. The same could not be said for her victim. Della stood up slowly, scanning the horizon, looking past trees and bushes. Then her eyes fell on him. He was paused, same as her.

He was dirty, and looked tired. She almost thought he looked like a refugee, seeking to join them, yet looks were always deceiving. He could be here to finish off the job. She couldn't have that. She wanted to throw the fireball at his face and be done with it. Yet she knew that wasn't the right course of action here, she didn't know why. Instead she stood straight and tall, pulling her shoulders back and holding her hand aloft so that the light of the fire illuminated her face.

"State your name and purpose," She said loudly and clearly, internally begging for her voice to remain steady, "and if you lie, I will know, and you'll end up with a charred face."

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PostSubject: Re: RIP [Plot]   Sun Sep 03, 2017 7:45 pm

Many people that lived the life demigods and legacies lived would typically be enraged or hurt when approached the way Christian was, but he wasn't. Who hadn't had a knife to their neck? Who hadn't been faced down by a monster who'd pretended to be a friend? He couldn't be sure what her shoes were exactly, but he was sure that if he stood in them, his reaction may not be much different than hers was in the moment. It was almost painful to look at her, she reminded him of a legionnaire in Cohort Five, Samantha. She'd been a troubled daughter of Trivia who used her magic over her bounds. It was weird to imagine New Rome was functioning the same as always after what had happened.

Christian wished he'd believed that she'd know if he lied. If his words were believed as fact instead of just simply words, he knew he could get somewhere. It was most likely that she was using an intimidation tactic, something Christian had done in the past when necessary. Christian knew he had a good chance of dodging if things went south, but he wasn't looking to start something new. He raised his hands slowly, in surrender. He hated to do it, but it was the only way.

"My name is Christian Moreau." He declared to her. "I don't know if the name Stephen Cordell means anything to you, but he's dead. Some people killed him, and I don't know why. My intent is to figure out why." He answered her. He had his suspicions, but nothing concrete. "You can bind me; I won't resist. But put the fireball away. Using it could cause a forest fire." He reminded her. He didn't doubt she would do it, if that's what she felt was her best option.
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