flower a garden of rage

[valeas]

WHO: Emilia di Carlo & Kamala Khan
WHEN: February 20
WHERE: Northern Watch Tower
WHAT: Emilia learns of the chaos and seeks to protect.
WARNINGS: This is Emilia with a hell hound, so. Violence.

[ Kamala is north and Red is south. Hermione, east. (Sarah, west.) Emilia half-keeps track of the towers this way.

The first one is falling and she does not wait.

Wrath stays behind to contain hell's fissures, but not before pressing the summoning ward into her palm — and so two beasts leave the Room of Seals. Emilia fights her way through damage and chaos alike, the pulse of her magic traveling like lightning with her steps. She keeps an eye out for any civilians that might be caught under rubble.

Keeps an eye out for Kamala, specifically.

The snow-colored hellhound does not remain pristine for long: the blood of its first kill splatters on fur, a pair of harpies having swooped down intent to fly off with soldiers. Vines with oversized thorns erupt from the earth to wrap around the other harpy before it can take flight again, binding it to the ground. With the sharp of her blade, Emilia strikes fast and she strikes merciless. Delivers the final blow with cold violence that matches her companion's.

Kamala, where art thou? ]

Comments

[valeas]

( Their lights combine, purple hues giving way to rose gold as a dome-like structure erects around and above them. Emilia keeps an arm protectively around Kamala, noting that she does not look scared, does not look rejective.

At the end of a borrowed world, surrounded by violence, she finds wonder.

It breaks Emilia's heart a little to see it, to know it. What would she not tear down to keep someone like Kamala safe? )

So are you.

( She looks up, the fire of the next catapult absorbed by the dome, but who knows how long she can keep it going. ) We move. We help anyone on the way that we can, but we move. Don't look back.

[cosplayqueen]

[It's one of the most beautiful things she's ever seen. Kamala thinks that maybe it's a sign that even when things are so ugly out here that they both are able to create such a beautiful light to protect other people. They were meant to be here to help together.

Kamala snaps back to attention as Emilia offers sound advice. Right. They need to get people out of here. She'll have time to fangirl how amazing Emilia turns out to be at every turn later. She nods firmly, serious, but hopeful. Nothing ever seems to dim the light in her eyes that comes from the belief that they can overcome anything with time, effort, and sticking together.]

Got it. Together we can save them. [Kamala smiles shakily, closes her eyes and focuses. She imagines her power is ready to burst out at a second's notice to shield others. She knows once her eyes open again that is exactly what it will do now.] Let's move. I'm ready.

[valeas]

( No sooner Kamala asserts she's ready, Emilia is on the move and leading the way. Their shields combined hold back the catapult assaults coming their way, but soon enough, they run into someone needing help: a dwarven soldier ahead dangles from what's left of the crumbling structure.

There may be more, she isn't sure.

Emilia's seen the platforms that Kamala can create, knows that she's primed to help them. But there's a barrage of attacks at their back still, and so she won't be able to assist on both things at once. Worry catches in her throat as she realizes this, her main goal being to protect Kamala and take her to (relative) safety. In the midst of battle, however, there is no room for indecision.

Her grandmother(?) only ever taught her rudimentary magic; always defensive, never offensive. She kept Emilia tame and in the dark. Refused to let her act and refused to give her the tools that may help, calling it protection. She would not do that to another young girl. )

Go. I'll hold the rest of them back, go.

( There's confidence in her eyes when they meet Kamala's, a firm nod to convey it's all right: Kamala's got this. And then Emilia doesn't, can't, wait. She turns around, hands outstretched to direct her ring of protection toward the lingering harpies, the oncoming catapult. She can feel her magic wavering, and something in her almost snarls in refusal, pushes back.

What once was a protective dome becomes a wall of moonlight, and she thrusts it forward. When the debris and shrieking harpies collide against it, she ignores the shaking of her arms, the sweat in her brow. As though Ratthaku himself can hear her, she bites out, ) Weak.