[ Ding! goes the bell, its (distressed) peal celebrated with a splintered lever and the last vestiges of an exorcist's patience running absolutely dry. Holding, yet, to Luxanna's hand, the King wonders if the beginnings of Allen's confession—that start of some concern voiced with urgency and hushed words—had only been for show, a small rebellion against the the carnaval games which demand you shall not pass! and the staff who man the colorful stalls, their smiles odd, seeming not to fit their faces; the way the darkening expression of the high-striker's operator dips into something grisly and grim as Allen plays a tune by cracking his knuckles.
Ah.
Sion is swift: take all the time you need, my Lady he murmurs in both apology and parting, a whisper of incantation giving life to a barrier which gleams, iridescent and bright, as it domes above, arching over Luxanna to secure a small area where she might be both at rest and at ease before...!
The King's armored boot (and it is a gorgeous shoe, synthesized from glittering meteorite and silver plate, lightweight enough to be tolerable in the summer's swelter, but so too substantial in their own right, adding an edge to Sion's offense...!) digs into the operator's back, toebox meeting with spine, the force of the kick coupled with Sion's own weight due cause enough for the man-not-man to topple, the wooden beam he'd taken up as arms against the one who'd broken his game falling harmlessly to the ground with a thud!.
...as Sion remains on his feet, graceful as always, his follow-through leaving him standing neatly atop the fallen operator.
(Sorry?) ]
You needn't play alone, Allen. [ Are there not enough booths and stalls to keep the whole of their party occupied? ] In fact...
[ Glancing down at the Steurn presently weathering the pin-point-pressure of his heels, Sion dismounts, satisfied that he will be no threat for the time being. ]
If we systematically break each and every one of the games, there will be no further reason for— [ The carnaval itself to continue to impede them, to dictate their path. ] —us to linger here.
[ Then: ] Luxanna...
[ It had taken its toll upon her, the magic which she'd used to both cloak their presence and secure their escape, and Sion will not see her over-extend herself where it is not necessary. ]
In the meantime, I would have you rest. Sooner rather than later, we will be in need of your illusions again.
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Ah.
Sion is swift: take all the time you need, my Lady he murmurs in both apology and parting, a whisper of incantation giving life to a barrier which gleams, iridescent and bright, as it domes above, arching over Luxanna to secure a small area where she might be both at rest and at ease before...!
The King's armored boot (and it is a gorgeous shoe, synthesized from glittering meteorite and silver plate, lightweight enough to be tolerable in the summer's swelter, but so too substantial in their own right, adding an edge to Sion's offense...!) digs into the operator's back, toebox meeting with spine, the force of the kick coupled with Sion's own weight due cause enough for the man-not-man to topple, the wooden beam he'd taken up as arms against the one who'd broken his game falling harmlessly to the ground with a thud!.
...as Sion remains on his feet, graceful as always, his follow-through leaving him standing neatly atop the fallen operator.
(Sorry?) ]
You needn't play alone, Allen. [ Are there not enough booths and stalls to keep the whole of their party occupied? ] In fact...
[ Glancing down at the Steurn presently weathering the pin-point-pressure of his heels, Sion dismounts, satisfied that he will be no threat for the time being. ]
If we systematically break each and every one of the games, there will be no further reason for— [ The carnaval itself to continue to impede them, to dictate their path. ] —us to linger here.
[ Then: ] Luxanna...
[ It had taken its toll upon her, the magic which she'd used to both cloak their presence and secure their escape, and Sion will not see her over-extend herself where it is not necessary. ]
In the meantime, I would have you rest. Sooner rather than later, we will be in need of your illusions again.