[ Swordveil, it is only a mimicry of what the Hero King had once been able to do, the barrier's many blades ever-shifting, piercing the foes which readily fell upon them only to align anew. Like clockwork, those creatures—akin to the dead who walked still—with the great misfortune of coming into contact with the barrier for long became undone, whether subject to the swords or to the holy magic which shaped them, the light corrosive and harsh, flesh-sloughing and searing to all agents of the demonic. To this spell, there is no glimmer, no after-image, no warmth, only the cold radiance of the ever-distant heavens above.
The barrier will hold for as long as it needs to, providing shelter for the moments when Allen drops to one knee, freeing the King from his bonds, and the seconds thereafter when Sion murmurs his thanks with a small bow of his head, bending with the range of motion newly returned to him so that he might offer the younger man a hand in turn, offering his assistance with a swift rise to the feet.
And then, of course, it is Allen who asks of him safe passage through—no, they cannot linger here, where there is no end to the droves of their enemies, the King's own mana drained into keeping them at bay—and it is Allen who hasn't the slightest intention of relaying to his party what it is he means to do.
But...
Sion steps forward, cobwebs yet clinging to his heels, to the very center of the swordveil as Luxanna calls upon her weapon, forming the diversion-to-be with a clever manipulation of mana and light, both elements converging to shape an illusion of her own design: Allen in a glimmering silhouette, a doppelganger to bait the horde which presses in from all sides.
(This is... what having faith in another feels like.)
Raising his hands, palms held vertical to the left and right, he partitions the barrier, creating the beginnings of twin exits, one for the exorcist himself, and another for his mirrored image. ]
Let Luxanna and I know how best to aid you— [ Ah? Perhaps it shows, how very much Sion loathes being left in the dark. ] —and if your endeavor should bode ill, Allen...
You'll have less than five seconds before I come after you myself. [ His voice softens, after that, his gaze shifting from Allen so that he might catch Luxanna's eyes, for he hasn't yet been able to express his thanks for her split-second decision to cut him down from the spider's webbing with her light, only to... admonish him, in a way which reminded him terribly of another Lady, whose favour he carries close to his heart. ] As a very wise someone just reminded me... now is hardly the time to be self-sacrificing.
[ Then...
The barrier parts, swords giving way, and Sion is swift in drawing Guiding Light from its place at his back in order to provide a warm (disastrous) welcome to any creatures which might take the chance to worm their way inside. ]
no subject
The barrier will hold for as long as it needs to, providing shelter for the moments when Allen drops to one knee, freeing the King from his bonds, and the seconds thereafter when Sion murmurs his thanks with a small bow of his head, bending with the range of motion newly returned to him so that he might offer the younger man a hand in turn, offering his assistance with a swift rise to the feet.
And then, of course, it is Allen who asks of him safe passage through—no, they cannot linger here, where there is no end to the droves of their enemies, the King's own mana drained into keeping them at bay—and it is Allen who hasn't the slightest intention of relaying to his party what it is he means to do.
But...
Sion steps forward, cobwebs yet clinging to his heels, to the very center of the swordveil as Luxanna calls upon her weapon, forming the diversion-to-be with a clever manipulation of mana and light, both elements converging to shape an illusion of her own design: Allen in a glimmering silhouette, a doppelganger to bait the horde which presses in from all sides.
(This is... what having faith in another feels like.)
Raising his hands, palms held vertical to the left and right, he partitions the barrier, creating the beginnings of twin exits, one for the exorcist himself, and another for his mirrored image. ]
Let Luxanna and I know how best to aid you— [ Ah? Perhaps it shows, how very much Sion loathes being left in the dark. ] —and if your endeavor should bode ill, Allen...
You'll have less than five seconds before I come after you myself. [ His voice softens, after that, his gaze shifting from Allen so that he might catch Luxanna's eyes, for he hasn't yet been able to express his thanks for her split-second decision to cut him down from the spider's webbing with her light, only to... admonish him, in a way which reminded him terribly of another Lady, whose favour he carries close to his heart. ] As a very wise someone just reminded me... now is hardly the time to be self-sacrificing.
[ Then...
The barrier parts, swords giving way, and Sion is swift in drawing Guiding Light from its place at his back in order to provide a warm (disastrous) welcome to any creatures which might take the chance to worm their way inside. ]
Go—!