Practice has ... mixed results. It starts out well enough, with Lauryn feeling more confident than ever that this is something she can control. For a little while, she feels sure that she is controlling it: that she can make the apparitions do what she wants. But then it slips out of her grasp. The monsters she made turn upon her and the archon. In the end, it's Skotonys who banishes them with his sword, not Lauryn's dismissal.
But Skotonys is true to his word: he does not look on her with disgust or disapproval; nor does he rebuke her for her failure. He remarks mildly when it is over: "A good first effort. You shall do better next time."
The "next time" doesn't come soon. The next day, their party leaves the fort to begin the journey. Archon Skotonys, Rio Imirso, Rio Kathiko, and Rio Ython go with her. Ython is a vulpine and something like Skotonys's manservant: he runs errands and does various menial chores for the archon. On a few occasions he's helped Lauryn with one thing or another. For a Laosian, he's pretty good-tempered; he's even smiled at her once or twice.
The trip takes a few days. The archon rides a drokar, and he allows Lauryn to ride with him, though after the second full day of riding the Gallah is starting to wonder if walking wouldn't be preferable. Since the other three are walking, they set an easy pace. Still, it's more overland travel than Lauryn's ever done before, and it takes its toll.
At first, they're riding over narrow dirt tracks. At one point, Ython has to take a machete to the brush before them to clear the trail. Skotonys looks ... offended? by that.
But by the middle of the second day, they've reached a broad paved road. It leads them through villages one small town, and one rather large town before reaching what looks like an actual city: Theolisis.
The city is ringed by a high stone wall. They pass through one of the gates and are given an escort. Lauryn's first glimpse of the city is fascinating: broad streets, pagoda-like buildings, and an enormous pyramid-like structure rising near its heart. Theolisis seems very quiet compared to Rephidim, with no street hawkers peddling wares and the avenues so wide that the pedestrian and vehicle traffic hardly seems to touch the available space.
But she doesn't get more than a glimpse of the city before they are whisked into one particular building. It's not, she learns, their destination. It's a "Katharsi House". She is to stay there for ten days before she is fit to see the rest of the city. Ython has to stay there, too, but the other three are free to come and go as they like.
Archon Skotonys asks her not to call the "isityros" if she can help it, and she didn't have any trouble with them during the trip, fortunately. He cautions her again when they reach the city. For much of the time that she's in the Katharsi house, he and the two senior soldiers are away on business. Ython is anxious to see the rest of the city, and restless cooped up in the house. He spends his free time cleaning the house -- although there's little grime from use there is dust and cobwebs from disuse. By the third day, however, he's down to tidying things that are already tidy and cleaning things that are already clean. "I can't stand it!" he bursts out to Lauryn, when she wanders into the kitchen to get some food. "I want to see Theolisis already!"
Lauryn's own time has proven busy, as busy as she can make it anyway. With Archon Skotonys support, she's found herself far more motivated to make a good impression. Not just for her own good, but for his; his oath has proven steadfast and she means to reward his kindness as best she can. With the man's order that she not call upon "isityros," she has done nothing with her powers except try and restrain them -- not that she's interested in calling them when he isn't here.
When the manservant make's his outburst on the third day, Lauryn's ears shoot up. She blinks at him, nonplused by a Laosian making such an outburst. "Have you never seen the city before, Rio Ython?"
The fox shakes his head morosely. "No. That's why we have to stay in Katharsi House. All first time visitors do. I wish there were at least some merchants or someone to share the house with, but it's mid-season and few first-timers come now. Do you know how to play any games, Ria Lauryn? Mifitha? Lyis?
This time, it's Lauryn's turn to shake her head. "The games I know are ... what is that word again? ... Prodotis games, such as Airships, Gallisan Chess, and what my brother called 'dice poker.'" She then tilts her head, and bites her lip. "Is it normal for the city to be so quiet? Is there a festival, or a holy day?"
"Quiet? You think this is quiet?" Ython stares at her, amazed. If she tries, she can hear some noise from the street: hooves and cartwheels against cobbled stones, the occasional murmur of voices. It's not quite as silent as the countryside they journey through. Still -- it's definitely quiet compared to Rephidim!
Looking surprised by the man's amazement, Lauryb;s eyes go wide. "This is not quiet? Where I come from, the streets are busy with people. Even the Noble Quarter has the sounds of the drokar-drawn, and the Merchant Quarter is so noisy, one cannot even hear one's own thoughts! This is very quiet to me." She shakes her head again. The Laos are much less uncivilized than she once thought, but they are still very strange.
"It seems very loud to me! They never stop. Carts roll past even at night, under the light of those lamps. How could you stand to live in a place even noisier? Would it not drive you mad? I have trouble sleeping at night as it is." Ython looks aghast at the thought.
Lauryn just has to laugh -- "would it not drive you mad!" I don't think I have to worry about that, she tells herself as she wipes a tear from her eye, I'm already quite mad from so much more. She finds the amusement, even if sad and twisted in its way, at her own problems strangely cathartic. It's brief, but it makes her feel better. And to show Rio Ython she isn't laughing at him, she smiles at him. "Oh Rio Ython, you know not what you say," she breathes.
Ython looks put out by her laughter anyway, his fur ruffling. "I am not viskis, ria." He stands. "I have traveled much and seen many things a proditos like you would know nothing of."
"Oh, I am sure you are quiet correct, Rio Ython. Come, do not look so offended; my laughter wasn't towards you. It was, how do the Laosians say it? Coincidental. A funny coincidence you should sat something like that to one such as me." She then pats the floor. "Come, sit with me. Offence does not suit you."
His muzzle wrinkles for a moment, uncertainly, as he considers her words. Then he yields and sits back down. "Would you like to learn mifitha? It's a simple game."
"I would," Lauryn answers, smiling again. She can't help but find the Laos a little funny in their own way; they are so easily offended! Still, she doesn't dare let her amusement show, not wanting to offend Rio Ython more. "And tell me of the city too, while we play? There is much I would know and little time, I think."
"I will," Ython says, glad of a chance to show off his knowledge. He digs into one of the deep pockets of his overtunic and produces a handful of small square tokens. then gets a dozen saucers from the cabinet to use for the mifitha game board. "What did you want to know about the city?" he asks, laying down the saucers and then counting out two equal piles of tokens.
"Well first, what is that giant pyramid in the center? Is it a temple of some sort? Where I come from, a temple dominates the center of the city," asks Lauryn. She watches the saucers being placed with interest, having never seen a game that required them before. Her brother, who was much ado about games of chance, prefered cards and dice.
"No no!" Ython shakes his head and smiles at her ignorance. It's strange to see a Laosian smile; they so rarely do. Lauryn doesn't think she's ever seen the archon smile, even after a couple dozen days of knowing him. "It's the Astikos. The Tyr lives there during kyrano. Kyrano afentis and other servants of Theolisis, they work there too. And some live there."
"Oh, then it is the court, a palace of sorts? I see. And kyrano is court-time, or perhaps a season of court?" She smiles, too. She thinks this Laosian must be young, or at leats that he feels younger than the others. What's more, she decides she likes him, even though he's fussy. The fussiness just makes him more endearing, somehow. She hopes he doesn't run in horror from her in the future.
Ython looks blank at her use of Rephidim Standard words; she doesn't yet know the Laosian words for 'court' or 'palace'. "Do your people really have temples so large as the Astikos? What need would a god have for so much space?"
Lauryn has to think on this a moment. She never did understand the Religion of the First Ones well. Gallisans are not generally religious, either, and her family paid what amounted to lip service to religious functions. "Well, there are many gods -- the First Ones -- and there are many priests. There are also many politicians, and many offices with the Temple of Rephidim, as well as many types of these besides." she then tilts her head, and asks, "What gods do the Laos believe in? I think I should know them; I do not think I will ever see home again."
While she answers, he finishes arranging the tokens. The saucers are laid out in two rows of five, with a single lone saucer bracketing the end of each row. He puts fifteen tokens in each of end-saucers, then looks up at her again. "Your governors work in the same place with your priests? So proditos." He shakes his head in dismay. "Your government must be poor and your gods resentful. No wonder you do not prosper. The Laos know the Twenty-Four Gods, but we only worship the Five."
"I would not say Rephidim is poor or does not proper," Lauryn insists. "It is a great power from where I come form, a city floating in the clouds, with many armies and ships." As much as she dislikes her home, Lauryn can't help but feel a little patriotisim. It may not be her favorite place, but it was, for all it's worth her home. She shakes her head. Glancing at the plates in wonder, she asks, "How does this work, now? And tell me of the Twenty-Four and the Five."
"Phah. I have never heard of it. It cannot be as grand as Theolisis, much less Archigos," Ython asserts with complete confidence. He explains the rules of the game first -- it's not very complicated -- and then Laosian theology, which is more convoluted. Apparently the Laos think that worshipping twenty-four gods at once would be too complicated, so the priests somehow choose "the Five Ascendant", the gods who are currently most powerful. Then they celebrate the holy days and observe the rituals for those gods. The current Five are something like Hearth, War, Duty, Justice, and Knowledge.
Lauryn didn't expect Rio Ython to believe her, or even know what she was talking about. She jsut wanted to speak for her home, but now that she's done so, she wonders why. I don't think I will ever return home -- and I'm not sure I want to, she thinks, using a smile to veil her inner worry. She nods and listens to the rules of the game, then the rules of gods. Not knowing excatly what to say, she offers, "They sound like fine, strong gods. Wise and protective."
"Of course. They are the most important ones for our time. And the gods sent the line of Theon to us, so that we would know we are their kin." Ython lets her take the first turn in the game.
"Will you tell me of the line of Theon?" Lauryn hesistantly reaches forward and moves her first piece. Having been occassionally conscripted in to her step-brother's games when he couldn't find more 'suitable' company, she's used to struggling through new games. It doesn't overly concern her, being she's not especially competitive, but she did enjoy the few occasional victories.
"The tyrs are all of the line of Theons. They are god-kindred, made of both alepo and human, and they do not live as mortals do." Ython moves three of his pieces together over two saucers, instead of one over seven as Lauryn had done. "The line of Theon has ruled the Laos for over two hundred years, since Theon Patrides came to us from the Twisted Land and united alepo and man against the prodotis emene."
"A god-king then, and a warrior at that. That would make Theon Patrides -- and I allowed to say that name? -- the originator, and the Tyrs would be ... god-princes and princesses." This is interetsing, Lauryn thinks. She had expected some sort of warlord or high-priest as a ruler, or some petty king, but not a god-king. She expects the sort of hyperbole she has heard from othen religions, but at leats the history is fascinating -- and she's to meet one of these god-princes soon. She moves another few pieces, and asks, "They do not live as mortals? How so? And, wait, did you say they are of alepo and human?"
"They do not age. Theon Patrides was a man grown when he came from the Twisted Lands, but he lived for over a century among us. He only died when the treacherous, cowardly Neyemen ambushed his party and burned his body to ash to destroy him." Ython looks angry at the thought. "His two eldest sons each lived for over a century, too, and only another Theon was strong enough to defeat them. Their sons are our present tyrs. Tyr Notios is over seventy, but he is as youthful and vigorous as a man of twenty," Ython says, boastful.
Could it be? Could this god-king and his prince and princesses truly be as Rio Ython says? Lauryn finds herself doubtful, but a part of her wonders. This is a starnge land, not on any map or in any books she has ever read. While no scholar, she likes to think she's more educated than most, being the illegitimate daughter of a well-to-do noble. "Theon Patradies sounds very formidable. From what I have always read, it is treachery than brings down the greatest," she says, trying to sound sympathetic. She wonders at these Neyemen, and what sort of barbarian they might be. "And Tyr Notios sounds formidable as well. I am to meet him?"
"You are summoned at his will." Ython shrugs. "But I do not think he would choose to meet a prodotis like you himself. Perhaps one of his afentis wishes to study you."
"That would make sense in my life. My prodotis world also wanted to study me -- amonmg other things," Lauryn says with some gloom. She moves her piece without much enthusiasm, and sighs, looking at the man pointedly. "Do you think I will find a place here in your Laos? Do you know what life is in store for me, am I to be your slave, or a specimen to study? Archon Skotonys has treated me well, and I will do much to see he isn't shamed, but I worry for my fate."
Ython looks up to meet her eyes. "You are to serve the will of the tyr," he says, simply. "It is the same as any Laosian would expect in life."
Lauryn nods a little. "Then that is the best I can expect," she replies. Shrugging a little, she smiles slightly. She always wanted to be treated just like everyone else.
On the sixth day at Theolisis, Katharsi House does get another half-dozen occupants, and Ython busies himself talking to them. They don't exactly ostracize Lauryn or forbid her access to the common areas, bur she feels distinctly unwelcome among the newcomers. Even Ython seems to ignore her in favor of them. Maybe it's just because they're easier to talk to. She's goten much more proficient at Laosian, but she knows her accent is still strong and there are many words she has to guess at the meaning of by context. When Laosians are talking amongst themselves, she has a hard time following their conversations.
The eighth day is Kyriaki, the Laosian day of leisure. The occupants of Katharsi House are still not allowed to enter the city, but they are not required to remain at Katharsi House, either. Archon Skotonys plans to go kite-flying in a park outside the city , and invites Lauryn to join him.
By the tenth day, Lauryn is as ready to get out of Katharsi House as Ython is. That evening, she's instructed to bathe and be ready to go to the Astikos the next day. Skotonys spends an extra hour going over proper etiquette and some important nicities of grammar with her, to be sure she will not create trouble for herself. On the morning of the eleventh day, the entire group dresses in their best clothing for the trip to the Astikos. Skotonys ordered new clothing for her while she was staying at Katharsi House. The garb is in Laosian alepo style, and of a simple design. Next to the elaborate trim on the Archon's finest clothing, hers looks quite plain. But it is well-made, tailored to fit her perfectly, and of fine-woven cloth.
This time, all five of them are riding on their own mounts; Lauryn doesn't know where the extra drokars came from. They make a distinct procession on the streets. Pedestrians, shopkeepers, even cartdrivers, all stop to stare at Lauryn and whisper to each other.
Lauryn doesn't get to see as much of the city as she might like. The Astikos has a gigantic series of steps at the front leading all the way from the bottom to the peak, some ten tiers above the ground. While they go straight to the Astikos, they do not ride for this entrance. Instead, they circle to one of the sides. Four dismount, and Ython is given charge of the drokars to take to the stables. They ascend a single flight of steps to a second-tier entrance.
With all the instruction, Lauryn decides to take the same stance she used at home: only speak when you must, or else risk chastizement. Or in this case, chastizement or worse. As for the clothes, Lauryn finds herself reasonably comfortable in them. They're not as elaborate as what she once wore, but they are more comfortable, and if she never sees a corsette again she will count it a great blessing. When the time comes for her to proceed outside, she swallows down her nervousness and walks in to the light ...
The Gallah woman hadn't expected a procession. Being stared at makes her ill at ease, recalling all too painfully previous years of encarceration and shame. For the Archon's sake and her own, she refuses to cower down. For all it's worth, she's still noble born, and she's so very tired of cowering and being ashamed. Her use of her powers has shown her another way, that she needn't always hide from fear -- sometimes she can confront it, and bend it aside. Sometimes.
When they arrive, Lauryn is emminently pleased to see they aren't going to climb ten stories of stairs. I would probably simply die on the way, she decides, eyeing the stairs as they enter the building. Once inside, she looks around curiously, deciding to try and ignore all the looks she expects to recieve.
Even this entrance is grand, with a high ceiling, a stained-glass mural letting in light. and smokeless lamps burning in sockets along the hallway as it goes deeper in. They are met by a servants -- guards? -- at the door, and led inwards by one of them. At the first turn, Skotonys dispatches Imirso and Kathiko to another duty, or maybe just to wait for them. A few more turns, and Lauryn is thoroughly lost. The Astikos is even bigger on the inside than it looked from without. And it looked enormous from without.
How on Sinai did they build this? And Rio Ython said there is another city, bigger than this? The young woman marvels at construction. She can't even begin to figure out how they built it; the claims of having divinity on their side seeming less and less unlikely by the second. It reminds her of descriptions of the Tower of Babel, although the Tower isn't hollow. "This is very impressive, Archon Skotonys," she whispers aside to the man, going against her decision to not speak unles spoken to. The building is so amazing, it begs commentary.
"It is one of the line of Theons masterworks," Skotonys agrees, in an equally low voice. They climb two more sets of stairs, in addition to walking down enough hallways that Lauryn lost count. Finally, they reach an antechamber where their guide/servant motions for them to wait. The servant pulls on an ivory handle in the wall, so that it goes from pointing up to pointing down. Then she bows to them and departs without a word. Skotonys doesn't look perturbed by this. Then again, he almost never looks perturbed by anything.
Lauryn ends up looking apprehensive, looking around, her ears tracking the smallest sound that she might gain some inkling of what may come. "I am entirely lost," she admits, again in whisper. She looks down at herself, checking that she looks presentable.
The archon shakes his head. "No." He reaches over to pluck a loose strand from the drokar's mane off of her overtunic. "You are found."
A moment later, the interior door swings open. Sunlight floods in; even though the interior of the Astikos is well-lit by numerous lamps that seem maintained by magic, they do not match daylit brilliance. A human woman is silhouetted in the doorway. "Archon Skotonys. You are welcome."
"Afentis Paniona." The archon bows to her. "This is Ria Lauryn, the prodotis I wrote of. We attend on the will of the tyr."
For some reason she can't quite figure out, the Archon's words are both comforting and pleasing. Lauryn smiles widely at the man, but winces when the light of say suddenly ambushes her. She squints momentarily, regarding the first 'Afentis' she has ever met with curiosity. Not knowing what to say, she sticks with saying nothing.
The afentis looks her up and down with an expression of mild disapproval. "I see. Does she speak? Come here, girl. Stand where I may see you."
"A little, now. She knew nothing of civilized tongue when she arrived but she has learned quickly," the archon says. He's talking faster now than he usually does when it's just the two of them, and Lauryn has a harder time following his meaning.
Lauryn's initial impression of Afentis Paniona is that she reminds her of an instructor, the sort to stubbornly and condescending impress their knowledge upon whomever they feel requires it. She steps forward, her brow arching a little, and she answers, "I speak, Afentis Paniona." She pauses to bow formally, as taught, then walks in to the light where she can be seen better.
Paniona sniffs the air, and her nose wrinkles as if she smelled something unpleasant -- even though Lauryn's recently bathed and perfumed. She circles around the Gallah, looking her over as if she were a drokar for sale. She says something to the archon, too fast for Lauryn to be sure of the meaning although she picks out the word "isitryos".
The archon shakes his head. "In part, afentis." When Paniona circles back to stand before the door once more, Skotonys moves to position himself at Lauryn's side.
Lauryn can't help but begin to feel both nervous and agitated. When she could pass the people by, it wasn't so bad, but having this intellectual look at her like she was a piece of meat for sale reminds ehr a little too much of the doctors in the Asylum. When the Afentis passes and turns where Lauryn thinks she cannot see her face, she narrows her eyes a little. She decides she does not like Afentis Paniona.
In part? The Archon must mean my power, she considers as the group lines up again. Straightening, she prepares herself to face teh court. It's going to be worse, she considers, sighing inwardly. Rallying herself, she decides that like the nobility at home, it's all about impressing the most important person: in this case, the Tyr. For the Archon and herself, she decides to make the best possible impression she can manage.
"Follow me." The afentis steps through the sunlit door and motions for them to follow. There's a slight narrowing in Skotonys's eyes, too. Maybe that's just the light. He moves a half-pace ahead of Lauryn.
Lauryn doesn't hear any voices from the chamber beyond, so she's less surprised to discover it empty of other people. It's a long room with a wall of mottled glass facing onto one of the tiered balconies: that's what's letting in all the direct light. Sliding paper doors can be drawn shut to block the light, but they're presently open. The room is quite warm. It's also opulent, with a stunningly detailed tapestry rug, embroidered silk cushions on its low chairs, and fascinatingly realistic paintings on the walls. The afentis takes one of the chairs for herself. "You may be seated."
Lauryn glances briefly at the Archon -- is there some sort of rivalry between these two? If there is, I know who I support, she decides without hesitation. Seating herself, she further considers maybe the Archon had been slighted -- aren't they supposed to eb of equal rank? Perhaps she finds herself superior for being an afentis within the palace. Once seated, Lauryn watches the Afentis expectantly.
Paniona focuses her attention on Lauryn, an "interesting insect" sort of look. "Ria. Tell me who you are."
Lauryn frowns quite visible at the look, a slip she decdies to continue with. "I am Lauryn Eglantine in prodotis language, or Ria Lauryn in Laosian. I was born to a prodotis noble, in a city called Rephidim, a sky island. I was on my way to Nagai City when my airship encountered a ... " It wasn't me. " ... storm, and crashed. That is where Archon Skotonis found me. Isitryos are my sword. I attend the will of the tyr." Pleased with her answer, Lauryn adds a little definace to her gaze, as if daring the afentis to find fault with it.
The afentis raises her eyebrows at 'Isitryos are my sword'. "Then you are not thirys. You attacked Myr Riona with isityros." Out of the corner of her eye, Lauryn sees Skotonys stiffen almost imperceptibly at this.
Oh, well, there's the fault -- stupid, Lauryn mentally berates herself. The afentis piqued her, and like so many instructors like her, found her weakness and jabbed it like so many needles. Her ears flicker, and she explains, "Isityros are sword without hilt; I am learning to use isityros well. My mage -- my Afentis of Isityros -- is dead, so I must learn alone." Already, she's regretting using "isityros is my sword." She thought it sounded good, impressive even, but under scrutiny it just doesn't hold up. Isityros weild her as much as she it. She decides to admit it, at least in part. "Isityros are not a still blade, and do not rest well in the hilt. Ria Lauryn ... " Now I'm beginning to talk like them. " ... fights with the unstill blade every day, but did not wish to harm Myr Riona." It all sounds pretty lame to Lauryn, and she stumbles as she speak, but it's the bests he can muster.
"Ria Lauryn did not attack Myr Riona." Unlike Lauryn, Archon Skotonys speaks without hesitation. "Ria Lauryn thirys olon, yes. However -- " He speaks several more words, too quick for Lauryn to follow.
Afentis Paniona's expression sours further. She responds in rapid Laosian to Skotonys, then to Lauren again. The Gallah can hardly make out what she's saying. There was her name, and isityros, and some other words, and she doesn't know what the woman was asking.
Skotonys, in a voice more measured and level, says, "With due respect, I do not think that wise."
"With due respect, I did not ask you," Paniona snaps in reply. Skotonys flattens his ears against his head.
"Think what wise, Archon, Afentis? I do not understand, you speak too quickly," inquires Lauryn worriedly.
"Show Afentis Paniona your is-i-tyr-os," Paniona says, as slow and measured as if she were talking to a toddler, with that peculiar Laosian habit of refering even to themselves in the third person. Except that she used a pronoun for Lauryn.
The tone and manner of the Afentis's words make Lauryn's hackles want to bristle. Not only does this woman remind her over a doctor, but her naked contempt would annoy her quite without any other modifier. She wants to see, does she? Already, Lauryn can feel the tinge of magic in the air as she reflexively begins to let it in. To her, as she once told the Archon, it sounds like wind -- screaming, mad wind. "If that is your wish, Afentis," says Lauryn, with a hint of finality.
The fur along the back of Skotonys's neck prickles. He murmurs a word in an undertone to Lauryn; she almost misses it. "Trap." He shifts forward in his seat, resting a hand lightly on the hilt of his long sword. The afentis is watching Lauryn, alert and with an expression a little smug.
The Archon's murmured words give Lauryn pause -- maybe unleashing her wrath is ill-advised. She feels the magic build, but she can abate it for at least a few minutes to ask, "Afentis Paniona takes all responsibility for isitryos? Knows well what she asks? Archon Skotonys speaks right, but Ria Lauryn will not contain isitryos if Afentis Paniona is certain?"
The anger -- no, the power -- in her grows, swirling. Lauryn feels like the howl of it ought to drown out her words, but it doesn't. It feeds off her anger, off her uncertainty. Her fur prickles and her skin heats with the effort to contain it. Paniona's reply to her is sharp and audible. "It is Ria Lauren's isityros. Ria Lauren is responsible for it."
Skotonys, equally sharp: "Ria Lauren cannot control -- " then something else Lauren can't understand. The pressure in her head is blinding her. Her eyes glow and smoulder as if on fire, tendrils of smoke leaking like inverted tears.
Lauryn suddenly sucks in a breath, as trying to hold back the tide of horror and anger that builds in her strains her will and frays her control. Her lips peel back in a snarl, a hand going to her head as it feels like it may burst. "Swords cut and swords bleed and .. and ... no flesh to bleed nothing to cut and ..," she stammers, trying to express her failing control. With no target, nothing to release against -- not even simply letting it free to run rampant -- it's like holding the sun in her flesh. The pain only makes her more angry, thoughts of the Afentis's mocking smile chipping away at her will.
Stupid stupid STUPID GIRL DO YOU THINK YOU CAN CONTAIN ME? Power roars out of her. The sunlit room turns black as clouds like smoke, like a coming storm rise about her. Lightning crackles, and all Lauryn's fur stands on end. The voice speaks. It's her voice, the voice that isn't her and is her and hates her, speaking in Rephidim standard. Black hands reach for her from the eye of the storm. I'LL CRUSH YOU.
Skotonys surges to his feet. Paniona rocks backwards in her chair, the wood scraping against the rug as she shoves away from Lauryn instinctively.
"NAAAYYAAHHH," Lauryn screams, rising to her feet to meet her phantom self. She can't release against the Afentis, no matter how much she may want to obliterate her mind and reduce to to gibbering fear. But, she can rage against her other self. She reaches her hands out, digging her nails in to the air, ripping at the magic around her as if it could be torn from the air and thrown against the hands. "NO! NOOOOOO!!!" With all her will and hate, she pulls all she can from the gathered essence and hurls it back against the hands, releasing maddened, incomprehensible cry that sounds as far from human as the hands that reach to crush her.
Smoke and fire whirl around Lauryn. Dark hands of smoke claw at her fur and clothing, while sparks fly from her own hands as she rakes back in retaliation. Fire lances through smoke, and smoke chokes off fire in a swirling battle too jumbled to follow. Skotonoys stands with swords in hands, but he holds in reserve. The tempest rages -- then it's over as suddenly as it came, leaving Lauryn drained and exhausted. Sunlight returns to the room.
Sucking in breath like a drowning woman, Lauryn colapses to her knees. Lurching over, she dry heaves, feeling for all the world as if she had just ripped her flesh and mind and thrown it with blood claws at some pit within herself. Somehow, she won -- she knows it -- but even in winning she can feel that, deep down somewhere, she wounded herself; and that's beyond the strain of having held, and released, so much power. She drops her head to the mat, hoping the world will stop spinning soon.