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Rose Healing through Lines

As Lord Avondale quickly caught on to the situation of Shal and Wolf, Rose felt some of the nausea disappear. Maybe part of it was undue stress? Or, rather, Lord Avondale was just a very calming figure. Sitting helped, too.

Instead of muddling all that over, she got back to business.

<Shal?> Rose intoned through the line, <I'm going to Heal your leg, then try to bring Wolf conscious, if it's safe to do so. While I am, I need you to tell me in as much detail as you can about everything that just happened.>

Rose was aware that she might not be able to Heal while listening so well, but neither could be put off. She needed to be good at multitasking, and now.

Without waiting for a response from Shal, Rose sent down a quick sensory, and was able to locate Shal's broken leg. She could tell Wolf was still on Shal, and that would make this more difficult, but she had no time to make things all nice and perfect. This would have to do.

She closed her eyes, and started to Heal Shal's leg. It was a matter of pulling the bones together and fusing them again, while making sure the muscles and tendons followed suit. Thankfully, it was not a compound fracture, and the bone had not moved that much. But Rose also made sure that her magic was also calming the nerves, so that they would not transmit every movement back to Shal. It was fairly complicated- as bones often were.

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Taran; Safety First

As he continued the pre-flight check, Taran nodded when Flan said that she both understood the need for locking n** in, and yet did not understand why he did it. Somehow, even the question made sense to him.

"Go ahead and buckle up." Taran said, finally able to pull back on the throttle. The Dragonfly rose softly into the air, and as he pulled back more, she raised straight up out of the basement- out of the tennis court. He hadn't really needed to concentrate thoroughly on that part of the takeoff, but he was trying to explain himself correctly to Flan. He had gotten used to addressing people with the proper amount of respect over the last 1400 years, and also to tell when people deserved that respect, and how much. He could tell that Flan deserved quite a bit of it.

"Lady Flan. I don't know exactly how much you know about n**, and her secrets are not mine to divulge. However, I am aware that she can be a danger to herself and others when she is overwhelmed. I do not know what else might have happened to her since we parted off the Altsoba, nor do I know her limits. I do know that she was at the end of some of her limits, or she would not have passed out. So, she needs, at least, some rest. If she is perfectly well after her rest, she has the ability and clarity of mind to be able to teleport herself onto the bridge and out of the locked room. If she is not... herself... then perhaps it is better she is safely away."

Taran plotted a course, and set the autopilot. They didn't have to leave the atmosphere, so there was a limit on how fast they could travel, but it still was only going to take them a few hours. Perhaps four. He waited for a response from Flan, and he contemplated taking a nap for part of the journey.

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Se'rox and The Defining Point

Having spent the last few days stuck within the continuous earthquake known as the Rejected Olympics, Se'rox was the least calm she had been since the Organization had first ordered the Hit on her. Between feeling nauseous all the time, every once in a while, the Duremites would absolutely insist she play in some of the games. She almost looked forward to it, in fact, as she would be led into an area that would then be relatively cleared of other people for the half of a minute it took to complete the game. But it was never enough to teleport out of there, not inconspicuously, at least. And to do that in front of all these people would be like sending all of the former Organization supporters- all those people who still wanted her dead- an Early Christmas present. Not an option.

For some of the games, she did well. She actually excelled at some thing with hitting bottlecaps. Everyone else had a problem with how the gun moved slowly when you aimed it, but that was easy for her. She got a ten every time. But some of the other games, like running away from fangirls and blowing up balloons, she was only just average at. And the slashing at falling objects game was completely unbearable.

So she had survived, practically pinned down to the bench by her teammates, who refused to let her play more than the one daily round that kept their score up, with little to do but think.

So she thought.

And she came to some conclusions. Some of which seemed too logical, and others that seemed to defy logic by the logic of them.

Either way, she was setting these thoughts into her head as facts- or trying to, at least- when a particularly loud and riotous crowd seemed to blow over from the fangirl race game. Before she knew it, the immediate area around her cleared- the first time outside of game times since she got there!- and one of the contestants came barreling in. Which, of course, explained the lack of other people, as they could actually see him coming, and moved.

Se'rox's face paled, though, before he ever came to a crashing halt at the wall and slid down next to her. She knew Zuchax III when she saw him, and this was her first chance to see clearly in days. She knew him, and... at least for the first few seconds, he did not know her.

He sat down after crashing, and playfully asked to sit down next to her. His actions, as she knew from observations during her lifetime, were almost flirtatious. And it wasn't until he recognized her that he stopped.

Se'rox couldn't say anything. Could not answer what she was doing there. She had a perfectly logical answer, but it would not come. There was a stiffness in her chest, and a pain in the back of her throat. Perhaps she was sick- but that was ridiculous.

She was just about past the physical pain barrier disallowing her to speak and was going to answer Zuchax III, when the last thing she expected happened. Xeona walked into the space that Zuchax III had created by his stampede (which was also quickly filling back up with Duremites).

Xeona spoke, and Se'rox stood up when Xeona said, "oh... no... se'rox?". Se'rox's face flushed bright red, and she reacted quickly, before the waves of olympic movement could make her useless once again.

Upon hearing Xeona confirm some key things by her few words, (1. That she knew where Zuchax III was, and had known for the last few days. 2. That she was "friends" with Zuchax III still. And 3. That Xeona was unpleasantly surprised to see Se'rox under these conditions) Se'rox raised both her arms straight up into the air with as much force as she could muster.

The earth below Xeona, being dirt, was immediately turned to mud by the instant addition of all the sweat on the people around them. This took half of a blink of an eye. In the other half, just before Se'rox's arms pointed straight into the sky, the mud surrounded Xeona in a very tight coffin-shaped box. In the next instant, The coffin-box practically shot straight up into the air about two hundred feet, as a two-foot diameter column of mud ascended from the ground under it.

This all took about two seconds from the utterance of Se'rox's name by Xeona.

Se'rox took in a deep breath, satisfied that the mud inside the box was holding Xeona tight, and she turned ever - so - slowly to face Zuchax III. The pain in her chest made her wonder if she had been stabbed, and she out a hand on her chest. Nothing there but shirt. The pain in her throat had returned, and worse than before.

Three thoughts, three plans from here were before Se'rox. Finish off Xeona. Battle Zuchax III. Or just leave. She had questions, but as she realized she could not speak still, her questions became more about why she couldn't speak, not what was Zuchax III doing and why.

Tears rolled down her face as she looked at Zuchax III, and she had no choice but to see what he would do. Her own plans were too muddled now.