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Aleksei

[GS] Aestus.

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・・・】 God: Aestus
・・・】 God Slayer: @Alexei
・・・】 OOC: Thread


People run as the fires chase them. The small city is nothing but ruins, leaving behind memories and a group of Zodiac Knights working against the destructive God. Aestus flies above the fighters, throwing shots of fire at them before having to regain her strength. 

   
         
     

 

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xxEA2D6.jpg“Another fine mess you mother has started, boy.” Conner said from the command throne of his ship, the Divine Right. His words stung the young Zodiac Knight deeply, causing the red headed young man to wince visibly. Since he had requested for aid from the young Kadian Emperor, the youngest of his uncles; he had come to quickly realize that Connor was a being of extreme confidence and pride, bordering on arrogance and easily looking down on others. Though his words stung, Asher could find no flaw in them, he would simply shoulder them for the deal that had been made.

Green eyes watched his nephew, a small smile touching the corners of his lips. His nephew showed restraint, despite his jabs towards his sister-in-law. Wise on his part, after all; their deal hinged on him not angering the young Kadian Emperor. Asher was a faithful one, perhaps the only one of the Knights of his order to remain such to their old gods, driven mad by the nullifier the Grand Kommandant had employed to remove them. This was a great concern to Connor, as there were enough mad gods in the Immaterium, and he had little desire to see it influenced further by the insanity of other powerful beings.

“Tell me, Asher.” He said, getting the boy’s attention as Aestus laid waste to the small and ultimately unimportant city. “Are you prepared for the possible consequences of my actions here today? What I will do to save your Goddess’ life, and keep her in this world; will hold heavy repercussions. Those knights down there will serve as fodder to make it happen.” He said, green eyes looking down at the boy who stood at the foot of his throne. Asher hesitated, his face ale and openly showing the conflict on his face. Connor couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it. How many times had he worn that expression when he sacrifices were necessary for his ambitions?

When the were necessary for Kadia?

“I am.” Asher said finally, setting opal eyes on the Emperor, a man who he both disliked, feared, respected and admired. “Good.” Connor said with a nod, standing from his throne to address the fleet. “Good. Set up formation around the city in all Cardinal and Ordinal directions.” He commanded with a clear voice across private vox channels. Prepare my obelisks for drop, we have a Goddess to save, gentlemen.” Ships broke from formation moving as ordered from the right and left, various support craft followed them, should the need arise they would serve as the line of defense. Connor could only hope that the Zodiac Knights would live long enough to keep Aestus’ attention.

 

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“Her power is waning.” Athos watches as the furious god settles below a horizon of scorched trees, the flames at her fingertips smoldering; spent. “It would probably be easier to kill her, sir.”

Quinton frowns. “It would be. But, it shouldn’t come to that.”

“What use could she be to you?”

“Even a fallen god is a god, Athos. There will always be a use for them.”

The head of Quinton’s guard nods in resignation, not agreement. “Shall I?”

“No, there won’t be a need for that.” Quinton curls his hand into a fist, eliciting a series of pops from beneath the flesh. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had decent exercise. Oh, have you received word from D’Artagnan?”

Athos nods again. “Her Majesty visited the villa early yesterday. He informed her that you are abroad, but should be returning by tonight. She’s decided to await you at the villa.”

Quinton nods and then begins his trek into the smoking remains of the city. Many of the fires had died down, though the heat remained, cooking the air around him. The sky had darkened, and the Zodiac Knights that had survived Aestus’ onslaught were regrouping. They barely paid any mind to the stranger in the black suit, walking deeper into the chaos. “Dealing with her will be easier once I ground her,” Quinton says to himself. “That shouldn’t be too hard.”

It would be one thing if her flight was mystical in nature, but he’s seen her magnificent wings. Those will be his point of attack, he decides; just as soon as she’s airborne again.

Reaching deep inside himself, he stirs a feeling he’s not experienced in many years—power he’s left quiet and abandoned in the recesses of his mind. Thing he’s taken, stolen. “A third should be enough.”

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Quinton stands at the ready as Aestus regains her strength, apparent from the surge of flames that sparks on the horizon of the city. She’s high in the air with a single flap of her mighty wings, two scorching swords in each hand. She’s beautiful, he realizes – feathers and fiery red hair, with eyes that glow with all the heat and passion of a summer love. That thought briefly spirals off, taking his mind far away to where his dear Varda is, no doubt in the garden as she awaits his return.

Does he miss her? Interesting.

Aestus rears back her sword to send another fiery bolt of retribution down upon those that have forsaken her kind and begun hunting them, but Quinton intervenes. With a push from both legs he soars into the sky like a bullet, lifting his right forearm to catch her downswing at the wrist. His left hand, balled into a sturdy fist, collides with the center of her armor, shattering the divine plate (no doubt weakened by her fall from grace), and connecting with heavenly skin just beneath her breasts.

There’s a look of surprise on her face he’ll not forget. How, it asks him. How is this possible? What are you?

Using the moment from his ascent in combination with the force of his blow, he drives her down. She falls from the sky a second time, soaring to the earth like a comet. The ground shudders as the goddess makes impact, collapsing a building and cratering the earth. Quinton lands a few moments later, light as a feather, crouching as he absorbs the shock. “Not all of these people see you as parasites,” he says into the rubble and the cloud of smoke rising up in the sky. “You’ve killed innocents and true believers this night. Those you were supposed to protect.”

Quinton doesn’t much care for these foreigners, but he hopes to help the deity see reason. “You needn’t die like the others. Like some of your children. I can help you survive this purge, if you’ll let me.” There’s a flare of light deep in the center of the ruination as Aestus prepares for another assault. “Or, I can beat you into submission. I’ll get what I want, either way.”

A roaring mass of flames rush toward him, but he quickly side steps it. Aestus is behind it, waiting to meet him, brandishing both her blades. He notes one of her wings is bent awkwardly, shuddering as it folds up against her back. She’s grounded now.

Quinton frowns. “So be it.”

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“I have no interest in fighting you, Aestus.” Like the names of all deities, it does not sit well on his mortal tongue. It is heavy, uncomfortable, and being a goddess of fire, hot. It scorches his mouth like a meal freshly pulled from the oven. Quinton thins his lips, eying the fallen goddess. “If you would sheath your fury for but a moment, you would see—”

Another slice of white-hot fire interrupts him. He steps aside, the steamed air singing the sleeve of his jacket. “—that.” He brushes away the soot, but doesn’t attack.

His abstinence gives the goddess pause, but only for a moment.

She charges Quinton with the strength and speed of her people, her blades blurs of metallic silver as they cut through the air with deadly precision. But their blurred speed is met by a soft, purple-red glow from the jewel in his ring—the fires around them die as the energy fades, fueled into a new vessel. Quinton evades each and every blow, dancing between her quick, furious strokes.

His counterattack is equally as quick, infinitely more vicious.

With a single fist, he lays the goddess low. The punch to the center of her chest dents the steel, caving it into her body-made-real, drawing blood from her mouth. It sends her veering back, crashing through smoldering buildings and soot-stained ruins. In her wake, a single sword rests on the ground, the other still clutched tight in her armored hand.

“I have a business proposition for you.” Quinton kneels, plucking the sword up from the ash. “A way for you to continue living.”

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