The comms were silent until yowling from Darius broke in loud enough that Tajur almost ripped his bucket off to escape the racket. His foundling son, who was more of a brother as the two were so close in age, began screaming like he was being skinned and begging for something, some sound, to stop.
The black and gold armored man froze with his hands on the sides of his own helm, he forced himself to keep the thing on and lowered a volume of his own comms. Darius was reciting the Resolânare. He was muttering and then the distressed voice was rising like he needed to drown something out. This reeked of Jettise magic to Tajur.
Jettise or the boy, the most likely culprit was the boy. This was beyond the pilot or the elder so it was at the feet of Dariusâ foundling that Tajur was thinking he needed to lay the blame. âStay where you are, Dar.â He grunted into the speaker and hoped he was heard over the younger manâs voice and whatever was drowning them both out. He found the transponder signal from Dariusâ armor and followed that, running as fast as he could while following the signal through the crowded metro area shoving colorful bystanders aside in search of the distressed mando.
@sundanceofapache (Tajur)
Darius curled tighter against the floor of the safe house, his hands pushing desperately at his helmet. For a moment or two, he'd managed to drown out the maelstrom long enough to silence his own comms, but it didn't help. Breathing heavily against the noise, the young man tipped, falling to his side as he writhed from sheer volume of the voices babbling and screaming inside his head. Gritting his teeth, he couldn't help his own agonized voice adding to the cacophony.
He couldn't think, couldn't escape the endless churning of emotions around him. "Help! Tajur! Buir!!!! HELP ME! PLEASE!" But even as he cried out, he couldn't hear a response.
Out beyond the borders of the safe house, a set of heads turned, scarlet, blue-white, and cobalt eyes gazing in the direction of the call. One set wore a dark uniform perfectly tailored to appear official yet practical. The other, a more traditional uniform of his homeland complete with silver accents and a cocked tricorn hat.
Sebastian Koll let out a soft hum as he heard the young trueman's distress, his gold-scarlet eyes stark against his ebony skin. Apparently there were still renegades trying to mimic his league's success. "Seems someone's meddled in things he shouldn't have," the tall man purred to his associate. "A perfect opportunity to grow their ranks, eh, Jibbat?"
A short, barrel chested man squinted toward the psychic sounds of distress, his cobalt eyes brilliant against his pale skin. "If we find him first," the northerner replied.
"Yes," Koll purred, "let's find our dear lost friend."
Meanwhile, Ledger stood in his seat aboard the Corvid, sweat beading on his weathered face. He heard Darius' distress and as he went to reach out, he sensed the presence of a darker duo. "Soren," He barked, looking toward the pilot. "Radio Darius immediately! Even if he doesn't pick up, radio him! I don't know who's with him but they must be warned of the Northumbrians!"
