#spungolden

Keisuke lost bits of time as he ran, feeling like the city was just a slideshow around him. One moment he was in the alley, the next he was three blocks west, and then suddenly he was somewhere else entirely unfamiliar, stumbling around with his boots untied. Crimson red bursts of energy oozed out of him like bubbles. And he just barely managed to pull them back in.

Someone was trying to help him to his feet (he didn't remember falling), voice inaudible to him. He couldn't focus on their face, only push them back. "Get--get away! You have to get out of here!"

It took research by the hands of another, most documents not translated into braille, as if his scant knowledge would reward him anything valuable; but loyalty had its pitfalls. He'd suffer again at the hands of divine judgement should it afford him the same result. In time, Cindy provided enough detail from old Lucis texts about trusted Arms, some names Ignis recognized, others from outside Kingdoms. Assassin? Cindy had baulked, astounded and vaguely concerned about who, precisely, these forces were, but such was what he sought. Travel, now, was longer. A day's worth of travel took a week, if you survived the Daemon onslaught.

Thus did Ignis stand, flame licking at his heels, readied at the border dividing Leide & everywhere else, the region unassuming... but the spawn, and the end, of so much. His long-awaited backup should pass by any moment now, if the distant thrum of an engine said anything.

(He, after all, liked to think his hearing was relatively well.)

"Ah. I should hope you were briefed on our ... situation," in his time serving the Line of Lucis, he was always given information aplentiful; it took less than a month for that belief to be shattered, but perhaps other factions, less intwined with the complications arising from royalty, fared better. "In which case: we'll start here. Provisions are running short, and as you're well aware, the path to and 'fro is treacherous. I need naught but another pair of eyes, should the way forward be difficult to swallow... however, if your profile is up-to-date... I believe this is nothing in comparison to your prior history."

He noticed. The woman who often seemed to be in her own world. Green hair... kinda reminded him of someone. But the vast difference and what stood out to him was the look in her eyes. Aloof, cold almost, especially in battle. Made him wonder what exactly she'd been through in life.

Speaking of battles, she certainly wasn't one to shy away from the frontlines. And with all the hits she'd taken, it's a wonder that she's still going. The deep rhythmic beat emanating from his kasa emitted a wave of healing energy as he stood by Dio.

“Hey! Blake, right?”

harbinge this

starter call!

The figure is in the distance. Whoever it is, because the figure is definitely person-shaped, is stick thin and had shoulder length dark, curly hair. He is woefully unprepared for the burning desert sun, wearing an old, ratty tank top and shorts. No shoes, and horrifically burned hands and forearms.

He's walking slowly, though he doesn't know where he is or where he's going. He walks alongside the road, in the hard-pan earth, trying his best to avoid rocks and the rare plant that comes out of the dry, sandy soil.