(no subject)

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

WHO: Illidan and YOU!!
WHERE: Anywhere around the city! Dude is portable.
WHEN: All day Monday!
WARNINGS: CREEPERS. Actually little, but will edit if needed!
SUMMARY: Yep, dudes who eat magic are trolling around the city and making you cry tears
FORMAT: Para to start, and then following whoever tags!


It never took long for one to become bored with what they had and moved on to something better. Better, in this case meaning more magic. It wasn't a question of quality, but quantity, and people like him were never satisfied, even with a source of magic he'd created. It was limitless, yes, but of only one flavor, and that was his. He could sense his magic on the air everywhere near his park, and it was his, despite the signs saying otherwise. He couldn't read them. It was time to move out, and find more.

What other way would he find new allies in this world than to search them out? They were the beings he would need eventually.

Comments

[diesarock]

It wasn't like she was going out of her way to be in Illidan's path or anything. She was grocery shopping.

By which is meant: bottled coffee, whichever animal was on sale at the butcher's, and some aspirin. She was getting headaches off and on, (probably, it should be noted, from all the caffeine) and without cure magic at her disposal, she couldn't simply wipe them away with a thought.

It was the same place she always went to, for that matter. It wasn't her fault.

What exactly wasn't her fault would not be clear to her for a few minutes yet, but it was going to be her vehement story soon enough.

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

For him, even though he wasn't actively sorting out Terra, he always seemed to come near her inadvertently. Of course, without her own magic, all he saw was the reflection of the ambient energy from the well and himself hitting her and bouncing off, refracting into light in his own vision. That's all the world was to him, black with his own magic hitting objects and exploding into kaleidoscopes of color and vision.

It was all he had. However, after the last time he'd seen Terra by his well, he would remember what she looked like if only because he'd forced himself to remember. It was like looking at something that had been so utterly destroyed.

Yet he still approached her, with purpose in his step.

[diesarock]

As she had told a masked friend on a cold roof, there wasn't much Terra missed about losing her magic, headaches and an easier-to-exhaust human body aside. More than that, she missed the sense of it--being able to feel and identify the magics around her, to be able to recognize certain individuals without seeing them, or hearing them, and yet still knowing they were around.

If nothing else, it would have given her a few seconds to realize just who was approaching before she looked up; the grocery bag was heavy on her arm, and when it swung against her side in the sudden stop, the bottles clacked together loudly.

This was absolutely not her fault, she thought. She also thought of how she hoped he still remained ignorant to the fate of her Magicite. If that was why he was coming to her now--

A tremor of fear coiled round her spine, but Terra somehow forced a greeting smile to properly color her voice. "Illidan."

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

"Terra," the greeting was almost a pleased growl, with the undertones of a politeness that few rarely seen from him. His appearance aside, he was often not thought of as one who could actually spout pleasantries, but his time as a court mage had taught him much of the ways of proper conduct. He just often chose to simply ignore it in lieu of the more expedient way of simply making demands.

"It is curious that you happen to be out on this day."

[diesarock]

The congeniality of the greeting nearly put Terra off-balance. It was one thing to be fearful of an enemy that made threats or seemed dangerous, but it was something else entirely to be wary of someone that seemed glad to run into her.

"Curious?" she asked, twisting the bag on her arm to better support the weight. "How do you mean?"

[trueltning_fury]

Geddoe was making his usual rounds, which generally meant walking anywhere his boots would take him. He had no schedule, but there were a few things he personally decided he needed to keep his eye on. The park where he had battled the demon? Maybe. But there were other things to look into, other directions to hike in the city. It didn't matter where he was, just that he stood out in his armor and blade, giving the hairy eyeball to anyone who still, after a year's time, dared to give him funny looks for dressing that way.

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

Illidan, of course, didn't see the armor or the blade. What he saw was the undercurrent of energy zinging around him, enough to place him as familiar, and he did remember that user of magic. Of course, he wasn't going to just approach him, not after the last time the man had tried to take him on with Zelgadis, but he could watch and the stray energies were already gravitating toward him. He could deal with just that for a time.

[trueltning_fury]

Despite bearing a True Rune in his right hand, Geddoe was notoriously bad about sensing the presence of any magic that wasn't another True Rune, not unless it was being discharged near him and then, chances were he would see or get hit by the magic first. He went about his business completely heedless of Illidan's stalking, blinded to his presence by the general dormancy of the Rune itself. Really, he was a sitting duck out there, vulnerable to anything and everything if he didn't keep his good eye and his sharp ears alert.

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

Illidan, of course, wasn't out to do anything to anyone. Although there was certainly an interest in taking the magic from the man, there was little. He'd already shown him that a fight was not possible against him, and the silly mistake of attacking him with Zelgadis had proven to the man that he could put an end to any such attempt.

Besides, there was something to be said of keeping a low profile.

Something of one, at least. He simply watched, for a time.

[curses]

[It is late Monday night, and those screams that are coming from that one dark alleyway over there? Yes, Bellatrix is responsible for causing them. It is one of those nights were she's feeling restless, and what better way to calm that feeling than torturing some poor sod?]

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

[ The screams catch his attention first. He knows exactly what those screams sound like, and yes, he's moving to investigate. Oh, not to save the guy, but because he's curious who's using that interesting form of magic to do it. ]

[curses]

[The torture is winding down when he arrives, but the moment Bellatrix senses another presence, she silences the screams with the Killing Curse.]

Who's there? Show yourself!

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

[ Oh, he saw that curse, and it was amazing in his eyes. When he steps from the corner, into the dark alley, it's all hard lines of green, providing enough light that even Bellatrix would be able to see. ]

Curious spell you have there.

[livesarock]

Ugh.

The scorched crater in the near-empty lot was a hell of a lot more impressive than the one he'd taken a shot at weeks ago. Back when...well. Whatever. It made sense, bulked up with demon facets - again. His swing was enough to slice stone in half without a struggle, but perhaps that wasn't as apparent, given the strength of the new sword in hand. It seemed to amp up as he got more irate, turning rocks to less a threat than bread.

Zelgadis wasn't particularly excited about it.

He stood and watched the smoke dissipate and vanish, scowling at the crater. Back to the same old...same, stupid old.

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

There was a person he'd been interested in seeing. Zelgadis still owed him, whether he knew it or not, and when the boy had decided to attack him, there had been no other option, short of killing him.

Well, alright, he could have just bound him, but this had a much more shocking effect.

"Is the stone what troubles you?"

[livesarock]

He should've sensed him coming, but same-old same-old also denoted being so wrapped up in his own thoughts, Zelgadis wasn't keen on the world around him. No more than usual; it was hard to not hear footsteps, traffic, the sorts of things that quickly became background noise in that space.

Whatever the excuses, it didn't change the fact that the blue blade flared with his temper, shoulders stiffening. Illidan was the absolute last person he ever wanted to cross paths with again. Hell, he'd put up with Xellos willingly instead!

"I've got nothing to say to you," he uttered, jaw set. His head turned to glare over his shoulder.

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

Illidan only watched on, eyes picking up the small details like the blade intensifying, the boy's attempt to look casual and dismissive, the magic flaring in the blade.

"Nothing?" he asked, while his arms crossed over his chest. "Not even a declaration that you were incorrect, little one?"

[hackeralastair]

After five, Alastair was doing his best to make it home. The weather had been nice enough on and off all winter that he'd had his motorcycle out for a while, even if some days it was chillier to ride than others - like today. He was wearing his thickest jacket and gloves and helmet, but it didn't matter when he was stuck at a standstill in a traffic jam.

The bridge to Brooklyn was just ahead, why couldn't these cars move out of the way? Even just a hair, so he could violate every traffic law and zip up between lanes or on the shoulder. Alastair wanted to get away, get home, close himself in his room and ignore the world for another day and another week. He was still stewing over everything involving the Oricalchos, and moments like this where he was left with nothing but the silence inside his helmet and the gridlock around him were prime chances for his thoughts to grow louder and louder until he couldn't stand it anymore.

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

The loud roar of traffic was enough of a din in his hearing at rush hour that he didn't know what to make of it. He'd been in the city for quite some time, but the sheer loudness of thousands of motorized vehicles hadn't been something he believed he would ever get used to.

And yet through that, he saw something that made his lips curl in a little sign of amusement. The light that came from within the user of a mechanical monster was something that most certainly caught his attention, and he stared.

[hackeralastair]

Alastair sat as normally as he could for a while, but the foot not planted on the ground to hold the bike up started to jiggle in impatience. Finally, at long last, some jackwagon inched his car forward just enough to make an opening, and he took it. Gunning the engine, he shot through a gap between cars and zoomed up the street along the dotted yellow line, inspiring everyone he passed to lay on their horns in irritation.

It was easy from there to cut across to the ramp for the bridge and head on towards home. Alastair had no idea that the very same huge monster-guy who had accosted him on his bike almost a year before was trailing behind him again.

Illidan's not the only one who can be a Creeper...

[ofthedream.livejournal.com]

Illidan's jaunt through the City didn't go unremarked. Ever since he'd created his tainted Well, Ysera had been keeping a closer watch on him. If he attempted such a bout of stupidity a second time, or something similarly selfish and short-sighted, hopefully she'd be able to stop him.

For the most part he'd seemed content to sit in his twisted fort and bask in the fel energies like a drunkard. But his magic-sodden dreamings of self-indulgence and egotism weren't anything she wanted to pay close attention to when he slept. And staying close enough to the Well to keep constant close track of his waking dreams was unpleasant - not even counting the content of those daydreams. So she'd relegated her efforts mostly to just knowing where he was, and that he wasn't having any sudden fits of power-hungry madness.

However, his going out, into the City, was enough to draw her attention more closely to him. However, his wanderings seemed to have no specific purpose or direction, which was a bit baffling considering how driven Illidan was in most things.

And it was frustrating that she would have to stay fairly close if she wanted to really see what he was doing and dreaming of during his wanderings and conversations. This world was so limiting for her... All the more reason to make sure Illidan didn't do something to bring about a disaster beyond their ability to stop.

[stealer_ofsouls]

It was a typical Monday: one in which he went to work, pretended at niceties with coworkers, dodged other coworkers, dealt with evening commuter traffic, picked at a takeout dinner, and puttered around his MAC apartment until he felt like he was going stir-crazy. He didn't know if it was the season or the City or all the craziness or what lately, but the slightest things seemed to dig under his skin. Memory still plagued him. He still wasn't sleeping well.

He was still rather stubbornly ignoring looking into reasons as to why.

So when the restlessness struck as it always seemed to do in the evenings, Bakura tossed his coat around himself and headed out of the MAC. He didn't have a particular direction in mind other than wanting to head for one of the City's parks. His thoughts always seemed more at ease when he could see some of the night sky (as much as could be seen through the perpetual smog cover, of course). The stars were a familiar constant.

Of course, that didn't prevent some street lurker from thinking he was an easy target. Maybe it was his slight frame. Maybe he gave off some sort of not-a-native-of-the-City vibe. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever it was, the guy obviously thought a knife blade and a demand for money meant power, and that thought was clearly reflected in his leer.

A moment later the thug was laying comatose on the ground, his soul ripped out and cast into the shadows. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, Bakura stepped around the body and continued his walk.

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

It was near the end of the day. The twilight hours when night continued to descent, although here in the city this generally meant that the sky was covered with a dark haze, as opposed to light.

That was the atmosphere it gave off, at least. The air was cooler, more moist, the scents seemed emptier, and although he couldn't see the stars, regardless, he knew from the ambient noise that there was too much light here. Illidan wondered if all humans lived like this. Where the rank scents of the day transformed into a sharp, cold scent, woven with an undertone of waste at night.

Humans though, seemed to become more interesting, as was the case with what he watched, as a man was separated from his body, and then gone. How curious indeed. He watched the whole process, and then he followed, bare feet silent on concrete in the night.

[stealer_ofsouls]

Two, three steps from the body, the quiet of night -- as quiet as the City got, anyway -- descended back upon him. He breathed deeply and tried to pretend he didn't taste the undercurrent of smog, tried to pretend it was the dry sandy heat of the desert instead. The comparison didn't hold -- it never did.

He paused at a gentle bend in the concrete path, turning slightly in the dim circle shed by the fading bulb of a decorative lamp. He'd been -- he wouldn't have called it jumpy, but on edge in the past few months. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"Is someone there?" He couldn't say if he was expecting a response or not; he couldn't say if he was expecting a person or not. Another visit from that strange shadow from a few months ago would not have surprised him; another phantom out of his past would not have pleased him. Anything else...

...well, he'd always been a gambling man.

/dribbles over to all molasses like

[pandablade.livejournal.com]

"It took you that long to notice me?" he asked from the shadows. To him, the aura of power around the other man should have been enough to indicate that something was near. Perhaps he was not aware of it, or perhaps the power he sensed was of a different kind?

From the darkness he stepped forward, he'd been far enough away that when he coiled his power, instead of embracing it, there had been the faintest, dullest hint of green. Now it blazed, cutting through the night as he stared at the man with the white hair.