Spilled drinks

[Sören]

Soren stalked his way closer, fist curled, power wreathing like shadows. Jared slumped nearby. What a waste of skill and energy. Even watching the second time he could barely fathom the patterns that so effortless healed the flesh, and it irritated him beyond measure to see it squandered on the undeserving. "What makes you think you get a choice, boy."
But though disgust marked his expression, he did not move closer. A moment more to think only curled his lip further, because he suddenly realised the kid lay in a cocoon of concrete slicked with a remnant of power. He had assumed both bodies were the remains of an attack, the victim fled. Had not even thought to fathom that the victim lay burnt at his feet. Because how could they trap a god? His eyes narrowed, jaw tight. Because if this was real, Soren wanted to know how. And he wanted to know now.

He turned his hash stare to Jay, accusing. "You knew what he was. If you know what it means, you're even more of a fool than I thought."
An Atharim channeler. It shouldn't be surprising, but it was bad news. He was marked. Trouble. And by now the legionnaires had served their purpose; Soren was ready to wash his hands clean of it. Though not without a final task. His fist tightened, digging pain into his palm, knuckles ash white. The runes danced a maelstrom as he turned. Against the wall, the other snake-marked bastard slumped still further, the life sucked out of him. Utterly unrepentant, Soren's gaze switched to find Natalie, marking too the new stranger who dared wave a gun at them all. He ignored him, though the runes continued to flash, imbuing protection should he need it.

An image of Declan flashed in the back of his mind, and though he had been apathetic to the menial task of finding Grey's daughter, now that he had her he was unwilling to let her go. To lose a second time. She hovered nearer the mouth of alley than the others, unable to cross the sea of debris in bare feet without shredding herself up. Blood already wicked amongst the dirt on her skin. Else she'd stopped for another reason. She was still staring at the pinned body, now lifeless, her expression smooth as marble and just as pale. Calculation whirred within, but who knew what she was thinking. He touched her elbow. "Your feet are bleeding, stupid girl."
The anger bit sharp into his words, and by the flash in her pale eyes as she looked up, he knew to regret it almost immediately. Would that she were a trinket he could place in his pocket. Just like her damn father, armed for war at a moment's notice. Soren grit his teeth, let the emotion flow out of him. Prepared to start again. When the sirens wailed their shrill cry.