05-02-2021, 02:27 PM
Whoa.
In his twenty-some-odd-(ahem)-plus years, Jaxen found himself in trouble more than once. Since this whole Ancient Power thing came about, it seemed to be a more frequent problem. Rainbow haired teenagers with guns. Teleporting snake people. Cannibals in the banya. John White and his fucking zippo-revenge (still funny). Extra-bitey hot Irish girls lurking in libraries. Now he had to add treasure-hunting rock stars to the list. On one hand, this was definitely a new problem. On the other, shit, he didn’t really think Aiden had the balls to outright try and kill him. Guess you never really knew a guy after all?
“This is probably the one and only time I will ever agree with Sage,” Jaxen said, hands up and backing away from the wild-eyed Aiden. Power swarmed the man in a way that Jaxen never noticed before. He was stronger than even Jaxen realized. Which was a problem in and of itself to consider for other days. Surprising someone with a jolt of unexpected strength in this power could be an interesting twist. But what made Jaxen swallow his thoughts was the realization that Aiden was stronger than himself. Which just wasn’t fucking fair.
Suddenly, fireballs whirled into flaming existence and streaked like missiles toward a fleshy target. Jaxen practically fell out of the way, saving himself from landing flat on his back only by the many years of being a traceur. A dust cloud puffed upward as he rolled onto one knee, and a grit took his teeth.
If Aiden was the stronger one, well, Jaxen still had been doing this a lot longer. An idea suddenly sprang to mind.
As soon as he rolled back to his feet, an instantaneous shimmer wafted his body, followed a second later by the appearance of doe-eyed Sage.
“Don’t kill me,” the fake-Sage bellowed. A little extra twisting of the power around his throat even replicated Sage's voice. Of course, the overlay of the power would distort the effect Jaxen wanted. No point creating an illusion if the viewer was distracted by the weaves that made it in the first place. Jaxen grit his teeth and forced the flow to double-back on itself. A smearing, like the pelt of velvet brushed backward, occurred. Seemingly minimizing the visibility of the power itself. It settled into his skin like dust, and Jaxen knew it worked.
After waiting for the appropriate stunning sure to come, a fling of gray spikes sprayed the air toward Aiden.
In his twenty-some-odd-(ahem)-plus years, Jaxen found himself in trouble more than once. Since this whole Ancient Power thing came about, it seemed to be a more frequent problem. Rainbow haired teenagers with guns. Teleporting snake people. Cannibals in the banya. John White and his fucking zippo-revenge (still funny). Extra-bitey hot Irish girls lurking in libraries. Now he had to add treasure-hunting rock stars to the list. On one hand, this was definitely a new problem. On the other, shit, he didn’t really think Aiden had the balls to outright try and kill him. Guess you never really knew a guy after all?
“This is probably the one and only time I will ever agree with Sage,” Jaxen said, hands up and backing away from the wild-eyed Aiden. Power swarmed the man in a way that Jaxen never noticed before. He was stronger than even Jaxen realized. Which was a problem in and of itself to consider for other days. Surprising someone with a jolt of unexpected strength in this power could be an interesting twist. But what made Jaxen swallow his thoughts was the realization that Aiden was stronger than himself. Which just wasn’t fucking fair.
Suddenly, fireballs whirled into flaming existence and streaked like missiles toward a fleshy target. Jaxen practically fell out of the way, saving himself from landing flat on his back only by the many years of being a traceur. A dust cloud puffed upward as he rolled onto one knee, and a grit took his teeth.
If Aiden was the stronger one, well, Jaxen still had been doing this a lot longer. An idea suddenly sprang to mind.
As soon as he rolled back to his feet, an instantaneous shimmer wafted his body, followed a second later by the appearance of doe-eyed Sage.
“Don’t kill me,” the fake-Sage bellowed. A little extra twisting of the power around his throat even replicated Sage's voice. Of course, the overlay of the power would distort the effect Jaxen wanted. No point creating an illusion if the viewer was distracted by the weaves that made it in the first place. Jaxen grit his teeth and forced the flow to double-back on itself. A smearing, like the pelt of velvet brushed backward, occurred. Seemingly minimizing the visibility of the power itself. It settled into his skin like dust, and Jaxen knew it worked.
After waiting for the appropriate stunning sure to come, a fling of gray spikes sprayed the air toward Aiden.