[ THE CALL ]

[verty_events]

The inhabitants of the Temple were all assembled in the Dining Hall. It was a large room with high ceilings, warmed by the fire in the fireplace opposite the main entrance and several smaller braziers scattered between the tables. The three large tables, normally set side by side, had been pushed against the walls to clear a space at the center of

Comments

[bellator_lucis]

The Warrior has been watching Mezzaline for a while.

Despite its chaotic appearance, the whole situation is reminding him of when he and his comrades were initially called by Cosmos, and he is willing to work under the assumption that these new beings...strange as they may seem...are new allies.

It doesn't entirely erase his caution, which is why he didn't approach the spiderlady as soon as he noticed her. But after some observation, he has concluded that she has made no move to attack anyone else, and she does seem to be hurt. So, he walks slowly over, and will stop a good distance from her, in case she is hostile.

"Are you in need of assistance?"

[mezzaline]

Mezzaline looks up at the sound of the voice, her fangs still at the ready. This person is not one she recognizes, but he looks like one of them. This room is filled with them. Some are scattering across the room like fearful mice while others, like this one, are calm. Yet another attacked her on sight.

This one offers assistance, but she has no reason to trust that he won't attack her as well. She steps back from The Warrior, her right hand clinging to her left side in a poor attempt to stem the flow of blood.

[bellator_lucis]

Some people might have worried that Mezzaline's retreat was a trap, designed to lure prey close enough to attack. The Warrior was not one of them. It seemed obvious to him that this creature was genuinely injured, and possibly in need of help. Unfortunately, he has no frame of reference for how severe a wound it might be, although the blue blood argues that it is severe enough to require medical attention.

First, though, he needs to convince this creature that he has good intentions. This is not a situation that the Warrior has found himself in before, and he flounders.

Slowly, and after some concentrated thought, he raises his hands to show that they are empty.

"I mean you no harm," he says. "And even if I intended it, I have no means to carry it out. My weapons have been taken from me." He feels that this is probably the point when he should introduce himself, but this where not having a name becomes very awkward. "May I ask your name?"

[mezzaline]

During the long pause, Mezzaline eyes The Warrior. His words are calm and his movements much the same. He doesn't seem to mean harm, but deception is a predator's ally.

Mezzaline's fangs snap back into her mouth, but she is poised to bare them again. Careful, Warrior; even wounded, she moves quickly.

Only now does she speak: "You... say are without w-weapons. What of the h-horns atop your head? They..." she winces, but then twists that into a skeptical look, "...they are weapons indeed."

She does not realize that this is merely armor. And why would she? Clothing is uncommon in her world and armor is even less. Those that bore horns bore them naturally... and used them.

[bellator_lucis]

When Mezzaline's fans snap back into her mouth, the Warrior blinks. He hadn't suspected that she could do that, and he takes a moment to remind himself that things are not always what they initially appear to be. When she asks her questions, he blinks again. He also hadn't realized that his armor might be mistaken for a part of him. Although -- and he examines Mezzaline with new eyes -- if all the creatures that inhabited her world were similar to she, clothing would not be required.

"They are ornamental only," he says. After a moment's thought, he removes his helm and sets it behind him. "I am not sure that I could use them effectively even if the situation were dire enough to require it." He shakes his head a little. The heat of the world outside Order's Sanctuary -- and that of Chaos's attack -- had glued his hair to his head with sweat, and the air moving over his scalp makes it itch.

He feels automatically shorter and more vulnerable without his helm.

[mezzaline]

Shorter, more vulnerable, and far less threatening. Though he looks much more human without the helm, he carries no tools or weapons. His hands even lack claws. Mezzaline is silent for another few moments. She may not trust him, but a name is only that. Should he prove to be a threat, names will make no difference.

Warily, she finally answers his question. "I-I am called... Mezzaline."

[bellator_lucis]

An answer - he considers that a start! He's going to move slowly a few steps forward, still holding his hands up.

"I would offer you my name in return, but I have none." Mezzaline is free to suspect him, of course, but he is being truthful. "I am the Warrior of Light."

[mezzaline]

Mezzaline straightens up and sweeps her hair back from her face. She stares accusingly at The Warrior, her many eyes narrowed.

"W-Well, sir Warrior," she begins, taking a shaky breath, "is it you who has brought me here? You who... pulled me from my wood a-and thrust me into this... uproar, this pa-- pandemonium?"

[bellator_lucis]

"No." The answer is swift and firm. "I have little ability with magic, and this summoning would require great skill." Whoever called them here is certainly very powerful. The Warrior favors a deity as an explanation. "But this is not the first time such a thing has happened to me."

[mezzaline]

Mezzaline cocks her head to the side. To think that this has happened to him before is strange, but one word in particular strikes her as unfamiliar.

"Wh-what is... magic?"

[bellator_lucis]

Congratulations, Mezzaline, you have successfully rendered the Warrior completely speechless, and he visibly flounders. How do you explain magic to someone who has never heard of such a thing before?

"I do not know how to explain it," he admits. "It is a powerful force, capable of great feats in the hands of those who can use it." He shakes his head. "If you could give me some time to think, perhaps I could come up with a clearer explanation. For now, if you will permit me, I would examine your injury. Perhaps there is something I can do." He's personally doubtful, but at least he might have a chance to gauge its severity.

[mezzaline]

The Warrior's answer wasn't much of one, but Mezzaline lets it go; identifying magic is less important than medical attention. For another few moments, she is still, but then Mezzaline uncovers her injury.

"...you may."

She takes two steps closer, still tense, but she is trying to trust him. She holds her mouth open just slightly, poised to wield her fangs should the need arise. She pulls her hand back, uncovering the wound.

The bullet-hole in her side is small, but the edges are ragged and from it, blood still seeps.

[bellator_lucis]

The Warrior's forehead wrinkles as he steps closer and examines the wound. He hasn't seen anything quite like this injury before, although he supposes that a piece of shrapnel, propelled with enough force, might do something similar. He tries to get closer without blocking the light...which is nearly impossible and causes him to do a bizarre kind of bobbing and weaving thing. Eventually he backs up a step and shakes his head.

"There might be something embedded in the wound, but I cannot tell," he says, and tears a generous piece of cloth from the kilt-like garment around his waist. Wadding it up, he presses it against the wound. It might sting a bit -- he's applying considerable pressure in a bid to stop the bleeding. "We are in need of a healer. Until we can find one, the only thing to do is to slow the bleeding, and halt it if we can."

[mezzaline]

As The Warrior presses the cloth to Mezzaline's side, she hisses. Her fangs twitch, nearly snapping out again, but she manages to keep them under control.

The gesture of The Warrior tearing his own clothes in order to aid her does not go unnoticed, however. "S-Sir Warrior, I... I thank you, for this." For what reason does he have to help her, aside from that she is in need? He is no friend of hers. "I... know not where a-- a healer may be found, th-though..."

[bellator_lucis]

He wouldn't have blamed you, Mezzaline, he has spent some time pondering why the measures that must be taken against some injuries can hurt as much as the injury itself.

"There is no need to thank me," he says. "This is the right thing to do." Of that much, he is certain. Even if Mezzaline turns out to be an enemy -- something that he personally doubts -- even then, it is still the right thing to help her now. "We should search for whoever has called us here," he continues. "Surely they will know where a healer can be found."

[sorrowfulstone]

"I believe I can help you," Eir interjected. She had managed to get Zhaneel to the healer, and she had seen Raina guide a couple people there as well. Tracking down the shot spider woman had been next on her list of things to do.

"I'm so sorry for such a rude welcome, but I hope you would let me guide you to our healer's hall where your injury could be tended to," she added, keeping a careful distance back, not for her own safety but for Mezzaline's comfort.