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Oscar was beside himself with the situation going. As far as political snafus went, this one took the cake in both the damage it dealt and the absurdity of it all. "This...this is not how the night was supposed to go. Cassandra would never say such a thing she's just..." "He hates me...my son hates me..." Lady Uldwar was muttering under her breath, barely able to hold on as she started to cry. "I have always held faith in your judgment, Ingrid. You have saved my life, and my wife's. There must be something that we can do here, something to show our regret for these actions." Oscar was feeling desperate, out of his element, and scrambling for options. Things were bad, but there was always a chance that they could be fixed, given the right penance. "All my sons either hate me or are dead...I'm a wretched person...my whole world is falling apart..." Cassandra's psyche had always been fragile, held together with her vision of a family held together. Now her children were leaving her, for their own reasons, or by forces out of her control. They aren't even fully grown, and yet she feels as if they are being ripped away from her. 

IO8 couldn’t only ponder the purpose of the threatening warship that hovered over the island. It was confused they hadn’t made any announcement to any government as to where they’d be,and as to the nature of the project, a concentrated military effort to stop them should have been avoidable. However the biggest concern was the fact that no military weapons, personnel, or anything militaristic at all was present here and that should have been obvious.  It didn’t want a war, but if attacked it would report back as such, and it was more than willing g to fight back to avoid a shut down and destruction.    Anyway the event was intended for thinkers not a foreign Military, with only a day of the ads being put up it wondered what kind of place could mobilize so quickly? Also they must not have anything better to do. something came from the ship. It had been distracted and had failed to notice another vehicle approaching from its Flank. Luckily this one looked Civillian in nature. At this time what it could only call a meclanel landed with a seemingly human, or humanoid child inside. It waves back and watched the two carefully.   borh of them approached and one more loud than the other, but both esstially asked the same question. What was the project, and what was the device. It was at this moment it finally began its true thinking and calculations.   ” This Civil Project is a Zerenith-“ it pauses proceeding the language the two speak then deciding to change vernacular to help understanding. “ This is what I and my  Creators call A Zerenith.  I believe amongst your tongues it could better be called a Gate, a doorway, or a portal.  This is a prototype Hulican, Housing, for the Senstive equipment in order to get the device to function. It is intentions for mass fast transit between two geographical locations. I take it you two are here to help make this project a success ?”  It looks between the two of them patiently awaiting an answer. However makes no movements to leave or show hositsloty as it simply isn’t programmed to and the fact ther is nothing to offer.

His bride was beautiful, as beautiful as the day he first laid his eyes on her, a long time ago. Back then, Matahari had thought Nesoi an angel reincarnated. It was during his fourth year in the Rajput Brigade, when he had earned his invite to the Wind Court’s harvest feast by winning the qualifying fight among the Chauhan that determined who would be eligible to advance to the next level of training. Since then, he had relished every opportunity to visit the Wind Court. The more accomplished his skills, the higher the rank he achieved in the Brigade, and the more likely he was to be allowed around the company of nobles and royalty. Until now, finally, he won her hand. However, it was somewhat of a disappointment that he was to share her with four other men. Only slightly, though. An angel like her deserved five Agnivanshi bodyguards. Looking at the other three men who had arrived before him, they were little more than that - fighters doing their jobs. Matahari wanted to be much more; he would work to win her heart. The Agnivanshi had shed his armour for today, leaving only his sword sheathed and hanging at his side. After a working trip, his bride deserved to come home to warmth and indulgence, not cold steel, hard armour and the constant reminder of danger. Matahari wore a navy suit with a blue sash decorated with the traditional patterns of Kalopsia, his long golden hair braided down his back. On his hands he carried a small package bound with soft silk. It was with this that he walked up to Nesoi. “Welcome home, my love,” he smiled warmly, placing his hand atop hers. Compared to her soft skin, his was calloused and rough, an inevitable effect of his training that unfortunately could not be erased. His fingers encircled Nesoi’s slender wrist and brought it up to meet the package that he had brought. “A present for you.” He had asked her handmaidens for the name of her favourite dessert, and had personally gone down to the shop to make sure they did their best work for her, the result of which lay in her hands now.  

Ursa Madeum; An ever bustling island paradise filled with nature loving creatures and benevolent mobility. Or at least that was how Harun would have described it during his last visit those many years ago. It seemed to lack that kind bright and sweet atmosphere now. The bulk of the world had become a darker more dreary place.

He had hitched a ride on a wayward airship that went down just off the coast of Ursa Madeum and now he found himself abandoned here. He hoped to make the best of his accidental visit to say the least. He remembered someone speaking of this place as of recent; He didn't remember who however. 

"I didn't intend to be travelling this far without shelter. I wonder the odds of finding kind tidings here."

He was still wet from pulling himself from the water onto the outer shores. He saw what looked like a nicely groomed kingdom before him. Harun didn't want to bet all his chips on finding comfort in the castle like structure. It was better that he took to the kindness to those in the town adjacent to it. He didn't know the changes that this land may have undergone since his last visit. Laws, wars, and crime all had likely changed from what he had once known.

He was tired and the circles under his eyes showed that fact plenty; He seemed to step one after the other in an exhausted slump rather than a walk. He looked up to the stone masonry of what he could only assume was a castle; It was beautiful to be sure, He however had equal certainty that less than savory characters found it to be their home. 

Although he had nothing specific against politics; Travelling parasite such as himself just had no place in a room full of politicians. He had seen too much of the real world for their plans and ideals to make any sense.

He snickered for a moment at the thought of himself having some sort of power over a country; Those poor people, they'd be safe and well fed but their daily lives would be so bland.

"I hope the town isn't as far away as it would seem."   He bore the same loose and open clothing that he always had; His hair scruffy and unkempt as per his natural charm. His darkened skin ever growing darker under the harsh light of the afternoon sun. He stopped walking for a moment to grab some of his hair and sort of twist it to drop the leftover salt water from it. He would certainly need to bathe soon. He smelled like a travelling garbage bag; Which did offended his heightened senses and didn't allow him to smell anything else around him. 

"I think im going to rest a bit."

He said with a deep breath in and out as he sat on the ground legs crossed and head lean forward with hair draping around his face. He just needed a moment to collect his thoughts.

"You'll cover ... me?" Feyd stared long and hard at the box and the ragtime skeleton with a curious and nervous gaze. He'd been looking around the area, watching phantoms come and go as though this place was the uneven clash of two dimensions, caught in a wink of time, but for how long...? The young man sighed, and bit the bullet since his companion did the crazy part of punching a skeleton the the power ball. He sighed again. What a weird life this has turned out to be -- not at all what he'd expected or sought just two weeks ago. But then again, two weeks ago they were seeking ends meet and barely surviving. Now they took as they wanted, and so far -- none could stop them. Placing his hands on the box, Feyd shot a glance to Quatre and snorted, "If I die -- I'm coming back to haunt you." And with that, he opened the chest and a brilliant, unending light shone from the well of its depths. He hesitated for a long moment and the skeleton prodded, "Reach in. Take your fate." - What is your fate, Feyd? -  It was the words of Rakaas echoing in his head that gripped him as he reached in with both hands. The light flashed red and drew the boy in roughly. He yelped. Face and hips against the open chest, Feyd gasped for something -- perhaps air would quench whatever pain or fear had gripped him in such a death hold, but he fought it. He felt the searing of his skin and cried out for only a moment, before snarling. It made him angry. "Oh my. This never happens. Usually. Well ... Often, I mean. Mimics are tricky." Gainz quipped. Feyd rammed a knee into the treasure box, pushing himself away and gripping at whatever had a hold of him. In a test of might, he prevailed out of rage and jerks his arms free, tipping the treasure chest onto it's scrambling face before it turned into nothing more than a box once more. In return, Feyd's jerked back arms revealed only ebony tendrils that snapped from either appendage as long, molten sable and plum whips that had welded themselves to his forearms and etched black serpents across his forearms. With two clenched fists, they retracted into his palms and he collapsed to his knees, staring at his hands that burned and ached. "P...please. Turn it off." Eyes welled with tears and teeth gritting and suddenly, he exhaled. And inhaled deeply, catching all the stuck breath that was in his lungs, as Rakaas turned off his pain receptors. - Well then ... you earned that, I suppose. We will need to be careful that this does not get infected... - Feyd looked to Quatre and spat, "Heh... your turn. Good luck with that."    . persona . feyd
 . affiliation . oz
. post count . 5