Forum Thread

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Isla Greer

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"Saint," she said sharply. But all she heard was a mumbled apology. She turned on her heel and nearly gasped. "Oh, my goddess- are you alright? Has something harmed you?"

She checked the clearing, but aside from her soliders, everything was still quiet. So why was she crying?

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As all this happens, kendo is using his fourth-wall-breaking powers and watching every single one of Isla's moves. Because yes.

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She trembled under Isla's gaze. In her mind, she was already preparing for the worst to happen, turning her head away and staying as quiet as possible. She just wanted to get it over with- the 'it', being a beating that she was sure to get for supposedly disrespecting Isla.

When she didn't feel anything come down on her, she looked up at her caretaker slowly, letting her wings fall behind her again. "I... I didn't mean to upset you..."

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Isla Greer

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"Upset me?" she echoed confusedly. "Whatever are you talking about? I don't suppose I- Oh-" Her breath caught in her throat. "I didn't mean to... I didn't intend to act cross with you."

She hissed under her breath, keeping her eyes averted from the Saint's celestial figure. How the hell was she supposed to fix this one

"For Saint's sake- okay. I apologize, Your Holiness. I am incredibly sorry, for implying anything that might have dragged up... certain traumas in you. I wasn't angry at you at all. For as long as you are with me, you are safe." She bowed her head. "And cherished."

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After a short while, she nodded, a faint smile coming across her face. She always seemed upset, crestfallen, as her face constantly expressed a type of indescribable sorrow and pain for her land. She inched forward slowly, taking Isla's hand again. "I'm ready.. I'd like to get to your kingdom.."

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Isla Greer

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Right. Snavia.

A cold wave of reality washed over her as she met the Saint's eyes. There was only one she could feasibly protect. The Saint or her kingdom.

A choice she already knew the answer to- regardless of the pain that answer would bring her.

"Very well." She nodded at her men. "Send word to General Sinclair up ahead. We need her to open a portal for us." Lowering her voice, she said to the Saint, "A temporal magic user. She can have us teleported to Snavia with little fuss."

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"I see..." She always spoke quietly, timid in nature. She was vulnerable around so many people, she felt more comfortable around Isla than anyone else there. So she didn't think anything of it when she unconsciously drifted closer to Isla until she was close enough for the leader to feel Aret's ivory skin lightly graze her own. "How is Snavia?"

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Isla Greer

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"How is Snavia," she echoed, only all too aware of how close the Saint was. She didn't like being touched- the sheer sensation made her want to put a knife through the offending body.

But for the Saint, she would refrain.

"As well as total anarchy can be, I suppose. It's been difficult, seizing control with such terribly deep infrastructure imbedded into our society." She sighed. "The King was a fool and an idealist. He had no idea how to run a country."

Even now, the thought of that silly face made her swell up with anger. She focused on a point in the distance, fighting to keep her face neutral. "But we have made progress. Soon enough, we'll have a military to be reckoned with, and stabilized borders."

A soldier came to a stop in front of them, panting wildly.

"Speak, or hold your silence," she ordered, placing a hand on the Saint's shoulder.

"M''am! The General is informed, and waiting for us at the Asterian Outpost up ahead."

"Excellent. Rejoin your squad, soldier. I'll have my eye on you, so keep up the good work." She gave him a smile. He made a noise that was between a terrified squeak and a man's dying gasp, and immediately raced to rejoin the flocks of soldiers.

Isla shook her head. "We don't have much in the way of training yet," she informed the Saint dryly. "As you can see. But we are making progress- ah, here." She drew to a stop. "We're about here, now."

The Asterian Outpost loomed ahead. Formed from the scattered outposts around the country, belonging to an ancient civilization, they were key markers for military to hold. Snavians named them after their own old civilization- but they could be found everywhere, in this world.

So much history, used for the purpose of warfare. A lesser woman might've wept. But Isla understood that the future took priority over the past.

Army over art.

Soldiers over dead men.

The past belonged to no one. The present was hers. These remains of some failed civilization were also, therefore, belonging to her.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

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"Yes." Aret nodded slightly and leaned into the hand on her shoulder. It felt awfully chilly out- other than the fact she only had very short and light sheer dresses. It was apparent that she never usually left the castle. "Are they going to... Are they like the guards at the castle? The ones that... Do these to me?" She motioned barely to the scars on her body, looking back up at Isla with large, anxious eyes that sparkled white in the dim light that shone through the thick layer of clouds.

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Isla Greer

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Isla found herself smiling down at the Saint. "Of course not," she reassured her. "They are under my jurisdiction- there is no world where my soldiers would torment you under my order."

As they walked forward, she found herself touching her lips. It felt strange to smile at another being, after the years of solitude. A soldier had no need for assurance or love or companions.To be happy with someone... want to comfort them... while she was Queen Greer.

She bit her lip. There should be terror there, but all she felt was warmth. That wasn't good, not at all.

The guards saluted as they passed. None dared to look at the Saint- anyone who tried was promptly shut up with a sharp glance from Isla.

The building itself wasn't well fortified. There were no patrols, except for a band of workers shoring up the walls. Exactly as she'd expected, foolish, but unfortunately necessary.

Claiming this outpost was vital, but control took precedence over use. For now, the soldiers would guard an empty building, until new infrastructure arrived. Hopefully soon- Isla would make it a top priority.

They stopped at a door. Isla gave a few loud raps with her knuckles.

"Come in!" General Sinclair called.

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Adrik Volkov

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"You know, Adrik, you really should've taken him up on his offer."

"And what?" Adrik retorted. "Thrown in prison, useless lump I am, written up as a traitor." He glared sullenly at a trail of smoke in the distance- some soldier's camp, likely. He hated those men. Jerks.

"Been a part of the rebellion. Retake Macedon. Save the ever cherished Saint." The puppet's mouth opened in its approximation of a grin and Adrik shuddered, never used to that horrible expression. "Think about it. The movement is gaining power. This could be an ideal time for you to wreak your revenge on Isla."

"I don't want revenge. I want her back to normal." He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them, staring into the darkness of the alley. "She wouldn't hurt me. That wasn't her. She said we were family, and family doesn't hurt family."

"You'd be surprised." Puppet cocked its grinning head to the side. "So what? You gonna find her? Plead your innocence?"

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"Thank you, Isla..." She appreciated Isla's attempts to bring the attention away from her. Aret stayed close by her side, hands and wings folded at her front and back, though any sudden movement from anyone she didn't know would cause her wings to tense, feathers shaking ever so slightly. It was supposed to be threatening, but with the lack of confidence, it just looked odd. She looked like a puffball of feathers. So when a door on the other side resounded, she did the same thing again, feathers spiking out in an attempt to look scary or demanding. Which failed. Again.

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Isla Greer

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Isla awkwardly patted the Saint on the shoulder. "You'll get healing soon," she whispered to her. Her poor wings- they must really be hurting. "We'll find someone with healing magic back in Snavia."

She opened the door, revealing a white haired woman sitting behind a desk. Her pudgy cheeks and short stature always had her looking like a child. "General Sinclair," she greeted. "I assumed you awaited our entry? We did not see your welcome."

Sinclair was very very still. Isla gave her a cold smile.

"Of course we awaited you and your... precious cargo, my queen. I apologize, for the reception depends on the welcomeness of our guests."

So that was how it was.

"I see," Isla said pleasantly. "I suppose you'll be needing new staff then, to bolster arrivals of similiarly important parties?"

Sinclair shot her a look of loathing. A smile crept on Isla's lips. Downright hilarious- she wanted to crush her.

"Of course. New squadrons are always welcome here."

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Adrik Volkov

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"Of course. She's my queen- and my friend. I can't just abandon her, all willy-nilly. Aren't you supposed to be her friend too?

"Friend, eh?" Puppet mused. "I can't say I've ever considered that word in relation to our dear workaholic. But who knows? Perhaps she does have someone she considers a friend, far out there- buried in the trenches of her past." It grinned. "Then again, she's an open book. Little to see with her."

Puppet was trying to tempt him. Lure him in with questions, lull him with a story, and lever debts over his head to use against him.

Using Isla- the thought was sickening. Why had she left this creature with him?

Why had she left Adrik?

"I don't understand why you want me to betray her. Aren't you on her side?"

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Aret tilted her head at Isla, making a small sound like a high-pitched trill. She seemed content with the assurance and positive attention, and stayed just slightly closer to Isla than before, listening to her converse with the General. She was quiet, shy around her own people, so she curtsied as best as she could without looking too awkward. It's as if suddenly she felt insecure about how she looked under the gaze of another stranger, covering part of her body with one of her wings.

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While the two of them were doing their thing Kendo was withing a video about blowing the moon up. Why not? he didn't have anything better to do.

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Isla Greer

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"So, can you prepare the portal for us or not?"

Isla delighted in the growling sound Sinclair made as she ground her teeth together. Downright hilarious.

"Of course. I'll open it up shortly." Sinclair's eyes flicked to the Saint. Something deep and agonized dwelled within them- her face was contorting itself this way and that, as if she was fighting herself on whether to say something or not. Finally, she dipped her head. "Have a safe journey."

The fabric of reality flickered, and then the colours of the room melted into grey- the colours swept up in streams that spun into a whirlpool by the desk. The entire room was quiet and black and white, all the colour drained into the marvelous swirl of every colour in the rainbow- a portal, tearing the fabric of reality from itself.

"Appreciated, general. I'm sure you can expect to be relieved of your post shortly."

Horror briefly flashed over Sinclair's face, but she snuffed it out, so quickly Isla was almost impressed. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you Your Majesty," Isla corrected, ushering the Saint forward. "Don't forget the formalities, dear."

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Adrik Volkov

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"On her side, eh?" Puppet mused. "What a way to put it." It grinned. "There really are no sides here, boy. I thought you'd have figured that out by now. There are tyrants on every side- why not pick the one that'll give you a shot at power?"

"Give you a shot at power, you mean," Adrik said coldly. "And anyway, I don't want that crap. You're just trying to manipulate me- like everyone else."

Tears came to his eyes.

"And if you knew who I really was, you'd leave me in a minute. For as long as you think I'm special, you're here, but the minute you knew that I was just-"

The words caught in his throat.

He couldn't even admit it to himself- what a liar he was. Everything he'd said and did, leading people to their graves, making them sacrifice themselves for him. When all he was was a liar with no magic and no power and just a useless body that wouldn't listen to him and save anyone.

"You don't have magic," Puppet said pleasantly. "You're ordinary- your mana couldn't conjure up a puff of smoke, much less any sort of great attack magic."

Adrik froze. Ice was creeping up on him- chills going up his spine. "How do you know that?"

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Aret followed Isla's instructions, though she was too occupied with staring at her than watching the area around her shift and transform. Though, the feeling of teleporting was more than strange, so she clung on to Isla's arm tightly, squeezing her eyes shut and keeping her face pointed down.

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Isla Greer

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Going through a portal was always remarkably uncomfortable. Isla gritted her teeth and bore her way through the nauseating sensation of your organs being moved individually with your body. When they exited through the other side, it was frankly a relief.

"Welcome to Snavia, Saint. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Far off in the distance, a child cried. But ahead of them both, the army marched- straight and forward, inpenetrable, all powerful.

This was her new nation.

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"It's... Different than I imagined." She felt open. Too open. Like something or someone could come from any angle and harm her. But Isla promised she wouldn't be hurt. That wouldn't stop them from trying... Would it? "Your aura is very different than that of your kingdom. It feels lonely here... I'm sure you feel lonely, too."

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Iteral kept fixing her clocks... but now with much less commotion going on, she decides to "move" inside the Saint's quarters instead of remaining in a temporal barrier on her balcony. It was getting slightly annoying to be outside in a cloud of poison whatever that would kill whoever. Though it had one little benefit...

when she moved her gear inside and dispelled the barrier, it flickered a little and showed visions. Some past, some present... and some the future. One included the Saint and another figure. "Oh. Interesting..." A smile came to her face, before the barrier went down completely.

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While the vision flickered, the other figure stopped and turned to face Iteral. Their face, like the Saint Deity's, was completely obscured by a halo, bigger and brighter than Aret's. They were silent, analyzing Iteral and standing in the middle of the room.

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