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Post by FLICK on Sept 17, 2010 18:29:23 GMT -5
Altair recognised that Vyncent was closing the conversation. Maybe he was right - perhaps their views were irreconcilable. The burning of the world was a tantalising image, but if it were to burn, there would be nothing left at all. To let it continue - for an entire, flaming lifetime of destruction - would mean to leave it untouched, unscarred, at least for a time; to let it go on in its own way, uncontrolled, as you were elsewhere. Let it operate outside of your control. And that idea was something that displeased Altair extremely. But he kept his thoughts silent.
"To give yourself entirely to savagery is weakness," Altair replied bluntly. That was one of the core tenets of his being; there would be no debate on that point. But he was satisfied by Vyncent Schwarz's praise, and his lips curved in a catlike smile. "Language is a tool to express superiority." Although Altair's, certainly, was still in development - he was frustrated by the circularity of words, the way they could be used to prove two points, and so listed towards directness and bluntness. Maybe the charisma he was trying hard to mimic in Vyncent would develop over time.
"Are they any more than a checklist of things to be achieved?" Vyncent's shake of the head seemed to indicate they were. "Knowledge is power is control - like stairs. I shall devote myself to the first." There was a look, almost challenging, in Altair's eye, that seemed to encourage Vyncent to argue another point. "And with time I shall progress to the second and the third. And after that..." Altair seemed to deliberate. "Perhaps the mind expands with progression," he mused. "There are some ideas I imagine that you can only reach at the highest levels of success. I will seek them."
Wasn't that what Vyncent was saying? Gateways you didn't think you possessed... But Altair lost his thoughts almost immediately as Vyncent raised his hand and the temperature in the room declined rapidly. Altair kept his upper body relaxed through force of will, but beneath the table his toes curled against the floor, twisting in discomfort. This was a weakness he wouldn't allow Vyncent Schwarz to know, no matter how cheery he appeared. But the cold slithered away as Vyncent dropped his hand to the table.
"Age will no doubt change my perspectives," Altair conceded. "My power will grow -" ringing certainty in the words "- and I will be changed by it. Changed in ways neither of us will foresee."
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Sept 26, 2010 7:59:35 GMT -5
Vyncent let out a soft laugh at Altair's view on savagery. "Again, we shall have to agree to disagree," he shook his head. "To give oneself in to savagery is not weakness; it is tapping into the very core of one's demonic nature. It is the ultimate strength, at the end of things. I'm not denying that containing yourself as you wish to do - burying your power deeply under layers of pristine politeness and control - is not power. I imagine it takes a great deal of power to succeed in that. But when faced with an opponent whose very nature is savagery, who dances to the beat of the drum of whim and chaos and fancy... all of your control would mean nothing. The savage demon would have your head off before you had time to rid yourself of your civilised mask," he considered, sitting back in his seat again.
"Of course they are," he waved a hand at the younger demon, noting the challenge in his eyes. "You are seeing the paint-strokes, my friend, not the entire painting. If you follow this staircase blindly, you might find yourself at the top of it with no way down," he shrugged to him, though he seemed to think to himself for a moment, red eyes glittering in the dim light. "Then again," he murmured, "as you said, you are only on the first step. By the time you gain the knowledge which you seek, you might discover that there are more staircases than there are steps. The possibilities are endless," he shrugged, drumming his fingers along the wooden table again.
Vyncent smiled darkly at his companion's last words, the determination that laced itself around every one. "That I can agree with," he inclined his head. "You will be changed. Perhaps in ways you cannot control. I bet that'd eat you up inside," he smirked returning his gaze to the raging storm outside as if tiring of it now. "If I didn't know better I'd say there were water demons out there taunting us," he wrinkled his nose, bored of this little tavern now. But he wouldn't go outside until the rain lessened, at the very least. "What's your plan from here, Altair?" he asked nonchalantly, his gaze still firmly on the window.
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Post by FLICK on Sept 30, 2010 17:17:09 GMT -5
"The savage demon would rip my head off - and then what? A demon that is pure savagery, so addicted to blood that he can no longer think, is nothing. A husk." Altair's nose wrinkled with irritation - perhaps at his own words, or perhaps at Vyncent's suggestion that he would be defeated. "In any case, carefully laid plans are better than brutality. Savagery is strength, but there is no control there - it is the easiest path. You cannot have power without some degree of control - for it to be power, rather than strength, you have to be aware of it, feel it... Even you, Vyncent, cloak yourself in civility."
He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on their tips, golden eyes aflame. "If you are at the top," Altair mused, "why would you ever need a way down? Surely the top, when one is climbing a staircase, is the destination. Ultimate power." His face was curious, as if eager to hear Vyncent's next disagreement.
A brief snarl of irritation crossed his face at Vyncent's taunt - Altair had still not mastered total conscious control of his emotions, and the jibe hid among their casual conversation had disarmed him. One thing intrigued him though: "There are water demons?" he asked. The idea had never occurred to him.
But his plans, to his plans... Well, hadn't that been the topic of their conversation? "Paint myself into the painting," he answered wryly, "one brush-stroke at a time." But perhaps Vyncent would want something more specific. "When nothing ties you down, it is hard to find your direction," he considered. "I'm sick of Märmosia - unless, of course, you know of anywhere slightly more... interesting around here?" He glanced around briefly, as if to reassure himself of the dullness of their surroundings.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Oct 7, 2010 15:50:53 GMT -5
"Oh, I'm not saying that the savage demon would be unable to think - it's difficult for even the most powerful demons to let themselves degrade to that extent. Even they see that as weakness." Vyncent shook his head. "Lack of intelligence is a lack of the ability to grow and change; how can one prosper without that? No, what I was saying was that one who chooses to embrace his carnal nature rather than hide it under layers of lace and estate and nobility; he has the upper hand when it comes to obtaining a victory," he grinned. The high demon laughed merrily at the mention of his own guise, Vyncent looking down at himself and nodding an admission. "That's true, I do. That's more out of whim than necessity though. Fate or destiny or eccentricity is still building more steps for my staircase. 'Till it does, I'm content to roam under my civil glamour," he shrugged.
He let a cat-like grin spread across his face at Altair's curiosity, his eagerness, his questions. "If you are at the top," he countered, "there is only one way down. And that's to get pushed by someone following you," he chuckled darkly. "If you have no way down, how do you ever hope to find your way back up if you're pushed?" he considered.
Vyncent looked amused at Altair's snarl of annoyance, as if he had gotten exactly what he wanted, but his attention, at least, was drawn to the other demon's question. "Of course there are water demons," he smiled, seeming to think Altair a little odd for not knowing that himself. "We are fire demons, are we not? And we're not the only elements on this plane. Why should there not be water demons, earth demons, fiends of air? It's absurd to think we are the only ones," he shook his head.
"Mmn... I was heading towards the Grand Mountain Range, on my way through here. Something told me I'd find something of interest there. Instead I came here, and... well, you found me. I suggest we flip a coin, when the rain stops. That'll decide where we go. Though, I say 'we'. You may have other ideas," he murmured, drumming his fingers on the hilt of Amor.
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Post by FLICK on Oct 7, 2010 16:36:00 GMT -5
Altair sat mutinously in silent disagreement. They could argue for years and neither would be able to convince the other he was wrong. Vyncent may say his guise was a whim, but Altair recognised that it was a route to the more comfortable life he could now lead. To yield constantly to savagery would mean a lifetime of being hunted, and for all Vyncent's arrogance Altair knew that was not something he would choose. To be civilised was to allow, at least temporarily, some kind of anonymity in human society - to leave the demon undisturbed and untroubled by mortals until that side of the identity was allowed to show. Then came flight - and then another period of calm, hiding in civilisation.
"Surely all you need, then, is a good defence strategy," Altair urged. "And the high ground, by its nature, would give you an edge over your opponent." He crossed his arms. "Surely you don't disagree with the ambition, Vyncent - ultimate power? Who could? In which case it must be the means that grate. What would you suggest?"
"It never occurred to me," Altair confessed, still lost in thoughts of demons of all colours. "Fire always seemed like the most demonic option." Wasn't it? Fire burned, consumed - by its very nature it could never be used to build or restore. Only to reduce.
"The Grand Mountain Range," he contemplated. "Is it any less of a slag-pile than the rest of this miserable country?" he asked, face twisted in a grimace. But eventually, Altair shrugged. "I will accompany you," he accepted graciously. There was nothing else to do; nowhere else to go - and the erratic and opposing thoughts of Vyncent Schwarz, he was forced to admit, were interesting to him. He had rarely before considered there might be perspectives different to his own.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Oct 8, 2010 11:23:04 GMT -5
"The best defence is a good offence," Vyncent mused in contradiction to the conventional proverb. "But of course defences are important. It just depends on what power you have at your disposal. Even the best defence of fire, for example, will fall at the weakest icy offence," he shrugged a shoulder, smirking as Altair asked for his opinion. "Me? I suggest you do away with these façades and illusions. The cloak of civility, climbing up the mortal ladder. You're a demon, act like one. Fortune, knowledge and power will fit into the scheme of their own accord as you prosper," he concluded with a light nod, grinning as Altair began to consider demons and other types of their kind.
"The most demonic option?" he tilted his head. "While it's true that mortals tend to think in those terms; hell fire and brimstone and explosions of flame, that sort of thing, we are by no means the most destructive of our kind. You can get weak and strong demons in all the elements, after all. And until you've seen an earth demon level an entire city in one quake, or a water demon flood a valley in seconds, you can continue thinking that fire is 'the most demonic option'," he winked, smiling across at the other demon.
"It might be," Vyncent considered on the subject of the Grand Mountain Range. "I haven't been there in centuries. I'll have to make an evaluation when we get there," he shook his head, though the idea of going back into the vast mountains where wilderness really took hold was infinitely appealing all of a sudden. Vyncent liked gilded gambling parlours and sprawling cities, but every now and then the call of the elements was too great to ignore. "Wonderful," he nodded as Altair accepted his offer, black flames beginning to play through his finger tips as he tapped a hand on the table. Vyncent's eyes were on the window, watching the rain. "Let's just hope the storm shifts soon, then."
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Post by FLICK on Oct 12, 2010 18:06:07 GMT -5
Hurrrrr groblobloh I had a whole post typed out and deleted it D:
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Altair fought rising frustration. Hadn't Vyncent been listening to a thing he'd been saying - that was just it: if you embraced solely demonic traits, you couldn't prosper. He resisted the urge to clench his fists, instead letting the fingers of his right hand tap lightly against the palm and release. Just as you couldn't ever properly control with only civilised behaviour, there had to be a balance between savagery and restraint. You could never concentrate long enough to learn a complicated spell chain if you burned through everything you saw. Vyncent was the perfect example precisely because not even he had given himself in to violence, bloodshed and rage. By all means, they were traits he possessed - and yet here he was, drinking wine (not blood) and partaking in a long discussion. A civil debate. Civil. It was all about making the right choices, knowing when to burn and when to stop.
He swallowed a retort - that line of argument would only go in circles.
Vyncent was right, he had been thinking in mortal terms, Altair realised as he proudly lapped up the description of destruction brought forth by members of his race. This time he ignored the condescension, instead posing a question. "If they can do that," he asked, referring to the previous examples, "what about us? What is the most destructive thing you've seen one of us do?" His eyebrows raised the question, Was it you?
There was something about the wilderness that both enthralled and repulsed Altair - it was uncontrolled and uncontrollable, wild, completely free. It could be destroyed but, by its nature, never tamed. It was beyond his logical and emotional understanding. He nodded in approval. "Perfect." He glanced outside the window, assessing visually and aurally the level of the rain. Now it barely misted the windows, and only drizzled lightly on the roof. It could barely be described as a "storm", Altair thought, although it was still wet, the ferocity had left it. "We might leave now?" he suggested. He fingered his cloak. "With a good cloak we'd be barely damp. The heavy rain is unlikely to return."
(dun dun DUNNNHHH, will Vyncent venture outside in the rain? Find out on the next episode of, BIG TROUBLE, LITTLE MÄRMOSIA!)
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Dec 16, 2010 15:43:42 GMT -5
Vyncent smiled slowly as Altair brought up their own kind, the demon seeming to muse for a moment as he watched the rain mist over the windows, clouding his view of the town outside. "One of us..." he murmured, sighing and looking back across at the other demon, blood red eyes glinting with cunning. "I don't often keep the company of my own kind," he admitted. "As you can imagine, rivalries begin to emerge. In fact, you would probably the first of our kind I've met in over a century, if not more than that," he sat up in his chair. "But I saw a city melt, once. Fire so hot that the stone simply liquefied... the streets ran with lava and smoke, and everyone perished, naturally. I never saw the demon again. I don't know if he burned in his own fire. But I suppose that nobody ever will."
He looked across at Altair again, smirking. His story seemed easy enough, but the look in his eyes more than answered his silent question. It might have been.
Vyncent didn't hide his distaste at the suggestion that they go out in the rain now. Yes, it wasn't exactly a storm any more, and no, the rain wasn't likely to get any heavier, but they were creatures who could outlast the centuries if they had to. What was it to them to wait a few more hours in comfort instead of wandering, bedraggled up to some mountain range? Vyncent, however, wasn't one to back down from anything. "Very well," he murmured, rising to his feet despite not having a cloak like Altair's. Vyncent's red coat was practically his emblem, after all. A few strides took him to the door, his hand safely on Amor's hilt, as was his custom. It would take days to get to the Grand Mountain Range. He and his new companion could talk more on their way.
((Oh Flick. I missed you. XD))
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Post by FLICK on Dec 23, 2010 16:26:20 GMT -5
Here's my re-reply!
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Altair could see the logic in Vyncent's words. The pair of them had been together for less than a full night, and had spent the time in convicted if good-natured disagreement. To be with another with the same fiery, fickle tempers and shifting emotions for an extended period of time could only bring further discord. Not, however, that Altair couldn't see its advantages, nor that he had qualms about travelling with Vyncent, as were his current plans... But he took one important lesson from the conversation. In demonic company, nothing was certain. Friendships and alliances were transient and he would have to be always at the ready.
Altair listened politely to Vyncent's description, squirreling away the purity of the destruction in some corner of his mind, but his surface thoughts were distracted. Vyncent personally had avoided other demons for 100 years, and spoke of rivalries developing - Altair took some event from Vyncent's past as responsible, some previous betrayal. They might travel together, but Vyncent would not trust him, and it would be foolish of him to trust Vyncent. Their relationship, it seemed, was a game of chicken - betray before you were betrayed.
"Impressive," he commented fluidly at the end of the description, raising his eyebrows cryptically in return.
Altair was not fond of the rain, but he took in with amusement Vyncent's distaste at the suggestion that they venture from their shelter, even as he acknowledged the mettle behind his acceptance. Wrapping the thick cloak around himself until only his eyes shone gold and glinting from the dark cowl, Altair silently congratulated himself that he had the foresight to carry a garment - Vyncent's coat was flashy, but if it were to rain more heavily it would offer little protection.
The demons stepped over the body of the dead girl and out into the gentle rain, which seemed to recede into mist at their approach.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jan 14, 2011 10:45:54 GMT -5
The weather was 'kind of normal' on the Grand Mountain Range when Vyncent finally found himself strolling among its inclines. The peaks of the mountains were hidden by a heavy fog, but that had yet to descend to where they were walking, so he hadn't paid much attention to it as of yet. It had taken days just to get this far, at points Vyncent wondering why they had decided to go there at all (the rain had fallen to a drizzle, but it hadn't stopped completely until the day before) but now that they finally seemed to be making progress, the demon was in high spirits. Well. As high as spirits got when you were Vynce. His right hand was, as usual, resting on the hilt of his beloved Amor, the other occupied with straightening out his shirt or his hair or some other mundane,vain task.
"And that is why," he concluded with an air of finality, "you should never, ever set a brewery on fire while intoxicated." The moral of the story was fairly obvious, but Vyncent still thought it was worth mentioning. You couldn't get that drilled into your head enough times. A lot of people thought it was impossible for a demon to get drunk off his face... but Vyncent had found a way. Their journey had been filled with little anecdotes like this. (When the High Demon could be bothered to speak instead of brooding about his wet clothes). Partially, it was true, Vyncent just loved the sound of the own voice. But he actually found himself enjoying the debates, for lack of better word, he had with Altair.
It was probably because he had gone for months, maybe even years, without any company that lasted more than a day or so. That's what he told himself, anyway. Vyncent paused after a while, one foot resting on a protruding boulder. He was frowning faintly. He sniffed at the air, wrinkling his nose. "Smoke," he muttered. "Not from demons, or mortals. It's different." He tilted his head in confusion. "Curious," he commented, glancing back at Altair and over the other demon's shoulder, back down the slope towards the foot of the mountain they'd begun to climb.
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Post by FLICK on Jan 18, 2011 20:12:09 GMT -5
The only thing that prevented Altair noticing Vyncent's vanity, cataloguing it into the mental files he kept stored away about the person who was simultaneously rival, mentor, travelling companion and almost friend, was his own. He fussed pedantically over his appearance as they walked, wiping flecks of mud or dirt from his breeches or running his fingers through his hair. It was blessedly short in this period of his life - had he worn the long, flowing locks that he would come to prefer in his cushy later life, he would have been driven to frustration by an inability to keep them ordered.
His youthful exuberance was the only force that let him endure the conditions of their journey. As it faded, he would transition to a more sedentary lifestyle, but for his first hundred years or so his desire for travel overrode his sedate preferences. As it was, despite the muck, he was in a cheery mood, and laughed merrily at Vyncent's tale. On a mortal the scene would have appeared charming, but the two demons possessed, as always, a sinister air - a cheerful laugh belied bloodthirstiness, an onlooker unsure whether the twinkle in the eye was amusement or violence.
"I confess, breweries are not my favourite targets for arson. I prefer... hospitals, or foundling homes." He paused, a contemplative look on his face. "I did, I should say. Somehow it seems bad form to be killing children when you're no longer one of them yourself. It's funny how a hundred years goes by in the blink of an eye."
He paused, testing the air himself to confirm Vyncent's judgement. It was true, the smoke was somehow abnormal - whereas human smoke had a charming, quaint flavour (the little meatbags really had no idea how to use fire) and demon smoke had its own peculiar signature, this was different altogether, somehow spiced and exotic, with a deep, meaty flavour underneath it all. Altair shrugged.
"Are the mountains volcanic?" he supposed. In any case, a mystery was no reason to abandon the climb, he reasoned, and stepped past Vyncent, further up the mountain.
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Jan 21, 2011 17:07:34 GMT -5
"Hospitals and foundling homes?" Vyncent echoed, an amused smirk lifting one side of his mouth, the demon obviously considering this for a few moments. "I admit that there's more sport in it. But nothing explodes quite like several dozen barrels of alcohol," he smiled to himself, glancing at the younger demon as he strolled past him. Vyncent, of course, followed soon after. "Oh?" he tilted his head at Altair's comment about it being 'bad form' to kill children once you had grown up, shrugging his shoulders as if to say he was neither here nor there on that statement.
"Perhaps," he considered. "But then it may play on your mind more because you were so recently a child," he pointed out. "Mortals crawl and hide and burn whether they are young or old, I find." He tugged at the lace cuff of his shirt fastidiously, falling into stride next to Altair as he considered the scent of smoke, still invisible in the air because of the heavy fog.
"Volcanic? I think not. It wouldn't be so frightfully miserable were there fire beneath the earth," he shook his head, wrinkling his nose and looking up all of a sudden, keen hearing picking out a curious, mewling screech of a sound whcih pierced the fog, cutting through it like a blade. He frowned. The sultry, unfamiliar odour of smoke grew stronger, the High Demon pausing in his path to watch as a dark silhouette emerged from the mist, reptilian snout perusing the air to catch the demons' scent. Vyncent arched an eyebrow.
"Is that a dragon?" he slowly tilted his head to the side, looking amused and interested, rather than choosing the more mortal response of screaming and getting the hell out of there before they got eaten/char-grilled by a mythical beast.
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Post by FLICK on Jan 21, 2011 17:18:36 GMT -5
"Perhaps," Altair conceded with a sideways nod.
But whatever else he had planned to say was cut off by the oddly feline noise that cut through the fog. It grated against him the same way the meowing of cats gave him no stronger urge than the roast the creatures so they would finally be silent. "A dragon?" Altair asked in amusement, nose wrinkling. "Maybe an overgrown street-cat," he scoffed, until he turned his gaze to follow Vyncent's.
He caught snatches of the creature through the fog - long snout. Scaled hide. Reptilian claws. Whipping tail. And the size of it! Amazing, that the fog could conceal such a beast. "Oh, that," he added, mild surprise in his voice. "Yes, that one's probably a dragon." Like Vyncent, he seemed unperturbed by the creature, but for different reasons. Whereas Vyncent had his years of experience and formidable power to give him confidence, Altair was still fixed by that fallacy peculiar to the youth that he was invincible.
He took a slow step in a direction that was not quite 'closer'. "Shall we investigate, or keep going?"
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Post by Vyncent Schwarz on Feb 7, 2011 18:05:50 GMT -5
Vyncent wasn't quite as surprised at the feline noise the dragon seemed to be emitting. As the beast appeared, however, he became a little more cautious. "The young ones sound like street-cats," he muttered, narrowing his ruby eyes up at the fog. "Which means that thing there is a rather over-sized baby, and its mother shouldn't be too far behind," he tilted his head, watching the dragon twirl and glide through the air with a grace that made it seem impossible that such a thing could remain airborne for any length of time. Vyncent followed Altair's example, taking a step which wasn't really away from the animal, but wasn't exactly closer to it either. He frowned.
"I don't believe we have much of a choice, my young friend." A smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth. "If there is not one dragon, but two, and there's no real reason for them to be flying so low, one could only think that we are the reason for their curiosity. They will be the ones investigating us," he sighed.
As if on cue, the real dragon came barreling out from the fog, letting out a cry that was a mix of roar and screech which shook the very ground around them. It was anything but feline. "Hm. She seems to have noticed us," Vyncent lamented, finally reaching out and drawing Amor, the black bladed rapier singing eerily in the misty air.
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Post by FLICK on Feb 8, 2011 18:29:26 GMT -5
Altair stood transfixed by the creature and its unnatural, airborne contortion act. It was almost unbelievable how the dragon barreled and spun, seeming all scythed claws, tail and wingtips, and yet hung so persistently above the ground. Altair cocked his head as it performed a particularly stunning feat of aerobatics, but its motives remained as unknowable from that angle. Consideration of its behavior was getting him nowhere, so he abandoned it, moving solely to admiration.
Vyncent's words registered dully against his conscious mind like the impact of small asteroids against a planet, sending little more than a ripple through his thoughts. This one was a baby. Its mother would be arriving shortly. Nothing seemed more important than watching the young dragon, still weaving elegant patterns through the sky, nimble and fleet with its youth.
Only with the arrival of the mother was Altair snapped out of his reverie - the bellow it released would have destroyed mortal eardrums and as it was shook Altair to his very core, tearing his focus from its twisting offspring. Suddenly his momentary daze seemed foolish and unbelievably stupid - he shook his head to clear the remnants of unconscious that still seemed to float there like fog. Was there something hypnotic about its dancing? he wondered, before he heard the song of Vyncent's rapier.
His eyes slid straight to her, black and gleaming in the mist, and for a second he was equally entranced. But, dragons, a small voice in his head reminded him, and he swung his focus back. He slid one foot backwards and clicked his fingers like that guy from x-men, summoning a small flame to his hand; Vyncent's rapier might be useful against the toughened hide but his simple journeyman's sword would be of little use, save if he hit the eyes themselves. The dragon skidded along the rocky ground towards them, showering the pair in gravel and stones, before coming to a halt, predatory eyes locked on the pair of demons as if waiting for their move.
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