Raz Stone
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"...Yeah, I know, I know."
A determined sprint through these strange wastelands.
Leaving the method of movement to your squire, the usual abrasiveness that normally exists inside of the voice of Erika Winters has been overwhelmed by a simple, pure feeling of absolute fatigue. It had been a long day for not just you, but for the others as well, one filled to the brim with opponents that lay far beyond the usual expectations of a Tamer's daily life, special sorts of battles that were more meant to happen once in a blue moon, rather then multiple times over the course of a couple of hours... The arms that hold you up are trembling slightly as a result of this fatigue, the lithe muscles of her arms shaking with a lack of energy, a sign of a body that just wanted to stop for awhile, rather then continue on recklessly, nevertheless...
She is a squire.
No... She is a Tamer.
Defense of others is in her blood, the others of your group were still in some sort of danger (or so implied everything you had seen on the way here) so she couldn't rest until that issue was taken care of, one way or another, thus...
Through the wastelands.
She moves on foot, one arm holding up you, the other eventually grabbing hold of the (surprisingly nimble) skull of a certain demon whose body had been more or less destroyed by Cain's magics. In terms of pace, the speed with which Erika moves is about as fast as expected, a supernatural glide across black mud and sand, not on the level of her final rush against Cain, but fast enough that she would have kept pace with the stage in a race. In her current condition it's the best she can manage, willpower or no willpower, and the shaky jolts of each stride across the sands agitate your wounds, a constant flickering pain that returns you to reality every five seconds or so...
A hazy journey.
A struggle for all involved, but one that you make nonetheless.
"..."
---You arrive at a battlefield, or rather, the remains of a battlefield.
The bodies of countless creatures made of that soul-eating black mud litter the ground, accompanied by the strange sight of what appear to be porcelain masks, scattered all the way from the now-fallen stage to the edges of the visible horizon, giving those without a face one of their own. Judging by how the piles grow steadily higher the closer to the fallen stage you get, it seems that that was the epicenter of the destruction, a 360 degree battle where infinite creatures had poured in from all sides to assault the living, a stark contrast to how docile the mud had been -still was- around you, but...
Thankfully the living were still the living...
While the stage had apparently crashed for some reason, you could recognize the unconscious forms of those atop it... There was the vampire, who was slumped up against the back wall, hands coated in that strange muck, Dejah, embodying the aspect of a fallen princess, pristine form untouched by the muck around her as if it naturally repelled it, and-
"...!"
-Ada, who seems to be hanging unconscious from the stage lights, chains of that strange black mud wrapped around her arms and legs, giving her the appearance of a puppet on unmoving strings... Left hand clutching at her head in what seems like frozen pain, while her right hand...
Was still tightly clutching her COMP, which even now has it's business end lodged in the decimated form of one of the strange monsters, the pile of them below her on the stage giving off the appearance that she was sitting on top of a mountain of corpses she had personally made...
Or rather...
Shadows.
This black mud does seem similar in nature to those sorts of apparitions after all, nevertheless...
"..."
...When it comes to the conscious, there are only two in the area.
Two staring at each other over what seemed like a table constructed from this same black mud...
Zerah -who seems less then pleased with the person across from him, but is choosing to bear that emotion for some reason- and-
"...And those are my terms. Easy, right?"
-a bookish looking man who seemed to be in his early twenties.
One who seems more or less harmless at a glance, or at least, he would...
If not for the fact that his reiki signature seems to be the same as everything around you right now.
The floors, the sky, the slain monsters, the mud, the air...
All of it.
---His presence engulfs all of it, like it's just an extension of himself.
Nevertheless, Zerah seems more annoyed then worried right now, and seems to be...
Engaged in parley?
Perhaps you had walked in during a ceasefire?
Still...
Neither of them look at you as Erika stops at the outskirts to assess the situation, although you're not sure if that's just because they haven't sensed you, or...
Neither of them are willing to look away from the other one.
Negotiations between supernaturals are often like that...