Name: Circa Konakasta
Aliases: "Spirit", The Autumn Alchemist of Hallows
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Origin: Magic
Powers: Despite having been hailed among sabrinian frontier exploration guilds as a medicinal practitioner of prodigal excellence, Spirit is also versed in a scattered array of combat techniques and spells She majors in augmentation, preferring a forward approach to confrontation by supplementing her moderately rich experience in scuffling with passive and snap activation magics. Such manifests in any one of three disciplines, if not all at once.
The first of which is "Wild", quite literally that of the natural arcana. Spell weavers demonstrating command of this discipline generally display an affinity with (but are not limited to) sorcery of the untamed or primordial essence. Any and everyone is automatically attuned to one of the basic magics of flame, water, earth, wind or lightning and said root mana forms the principle upon which a practicing spell caster of the wild persuasion would ferment their knowledge base. An average person normally is able to attain considerable finesse with their primary color of natural arcana as well as having reached out and mastered a secondary type to a varying degree. Experience in experimentation with an additional fundamental magic (as well as being able to fuse and simultaneously make use of available colors) is the defining mark of an accomplished magician of the wild. One who is far traveled in the fabric of the primeval arts, a mastery of three elements their character, is known by wild mages or wilders as a "Sage". It isn't outside the realm of possibility to immerse oneself nigh completely in the sea of life that is the cosmic earth mother and grasp a seemingly complete understanding of the earthly arcane. These far and few between adepts are christened by their colleagues "Libera", or true unbound. Circa has made great progress as a wilder by any means as she's attained a considerable handle on the ways of the thunder and flame. She delights in the fusion of her currently available elements into the mana form that many consider the "Plasma" sub discipline, the manipulation of super heated raw energy as to cauterize opponents. Such a way of turning determination into one's weapon is one of the most notably high strung and difficult to contain styles of wild magic. Due to the instability, physical voraciousness and recoil of the plasmatic form, Spirit keeps it tucked away in her ethereal quill pocket for those last ditch situations.
Secondly, Circa employs Life Magic. Unlike those of the wild, who come in an amalgam of sorts, applications, and degrees of study, there seem only to be two majorities of life users: the clerics of the Celeste-Sol, and the saboteurs of Luna-Netheria. Circa walks what those call the Twilit path, having dabbled in the alchemic studies and assistive magics of what grounded scholars concur is the "White", as well as the blood based and hindering strains of the "Black" school. One firmly engorged solely in the manner of friendly magic are titled "Chrysanthi" (most clerical guilds appropriately possessing banners somehow involving the sun flower) by Hallows state standard, as opposed to their stylistic and often moral opposites the "Flora Nocturnus", whom bear rain greenery such as the azalea on relevant guild marks. Laymen refer to these conflicting walks of people as either "synergists", or "saboteurs", in reverence to their roles as stop gap medical accommodators and assassins. Spirit distinguished herself among frontiersmen by applying her signature "Hallow Nectar" medicinal arte to a scout who's life had been giving way to plague. Said technique is at best a two person procedure, but can however be performed by the one if no additional mana channeling is present. Utilizing lighting, Circa snaps a good hundred to a thousand spectral needles into the patient, and draws blood into them. Ecto Maple leaves are then placed gently on the electric overlay of the patient, and blood is drawn into the leaves and sap enters the bloodstream equivalent to the percentage of blood lost. The sap is unpleasant, and the body rejects it, causing bodily spasms and vomiting. Though, it is during this process the natural mana within the leaf adapts to the frequency and channel of the body and the parasites within essentially "eat" the sickness ailing the patient, and shortly make a home within the body. These Maple bugs are harmless, and die off within weeks due to the harsh internal environment. Her Flora Nocturnus derived ability is particularly popular with Vampiric commandos, in which she applies the slitting of her own wrist as the source of rich, life infused spell casting should she need an edge over her opponent.
Last, she employs a vein of characteristically azure spell casting she calls "Dream Fracture". It is primarily defensive, and piggybacks off of a mana pool separate, yet all her own. Utilizing her sword companion "Break Heart", Spirit disrupts, disables, and reformats enemy spell casting. It is at best a passive way to deal with a threat, as the execution of Dream Fracture requires the absorption and spiritual analysis from Break Heart itself; which can take quite some time due to the thick although methodical state of nature that comes with being a sword-stave. Ending an encounter quickly fits Circa's berserker strategy better than wearing an opponent and being forced to figure them, alas she isn't closed to it as that would be asinine. Once the mana digestion process is at a conclusion, it then she is made able to fight back. The intended use for "Dream Fracture" is parry and escape, and has been used to retreat when the Autumn Alchemist had made regrettable decisions. Functions of the fracture are exceptionally exemplified in the dispelling of illusionary fields, control magic, and general corporeal impediment. It is a last resort and uncomfortable measure, requiring: a mana field, rooting of the ethereal channel, and a defense of such. This once again goes against Circa's up front approach to conflict, as it not only requires a minute of station, but a defense of her weapon. If the digestion and analysis are interrupted, it is more difficult for Break Heart to assist Circa in the manner of either flight or counter attack, thus making her more vulnerable as she is at an impasse to begin with.
Special Gear: "Break Heart" the Fissure Horse. A sentient cleaver aligned with the Vampyra nation. Originally a Kelpie, and consultant to a planeswalker endeared by the imperial seat as the "Tendril Giant", Break Heart was atomically broken and transmuted by Chris Kringle of the pole as to avoid outside interruption from inter-dimensional powers in the Vampyra-Hallowsian conflict. Being inhuman to start, Break Heart had always enjoyed solitude in the marsh away from civilization and other speciesly feuding. Post the result of his change of form, his distaste with the bipedal races was further saturated and was convinced by the ever resourceful Lord Vampyrial that the heart of the world was indeed going out, and allowed himself to be assimilated to the night walker's cause simply to do his cause of tragedy being at the other end of the political conflict. The now sword is a smart, yet simple entity. It desires only the comforts of what it is wished to be Vampyrian marsh in an ideal future, and a return to form. An alliance with the autumn alchemist and being of the dark walking war machine are matters of situation to him. Despite embodying computational wizardry, magical dexterity, knowledgeability, and capability for greater things, the fissure horse's lust is that all his experiences hopefully accumulate to an agreeable end. He was of the marsh, and tells himself he will return to the very one that is the marsh itself after reentering the life stream.
Preferred Weapon: Though Break Heart is her most powerful and useful of her inventory, Circa relies on a set of magicka receptive Tonfa to implement her augmentation based combat style.
Appearance:
"Normal"
"???"
A pale girl of gaunt build and chopped chestnut hair, standing at five feet and two inches, possessing calming eyes of sea teal. She is generally donned in shades of earthly colors such as green, red, or brown in the format of something of the business-like effect. Such has caused some to draw the assumption that the youth perhaps takes herself a tad too seriously, which she sometimes by chance does in fact do.
Weaknesses: Spirit is a heavy smoker, and started smoking at twelve to curtail the affects of her inability to socialize with people. She has coughing fits on occasion, and more than likely during combat. This staggers her, disheveling not only her presence but her decision making as well. She is quite dependent, treating her source of empathic fulfillment as a friend in itself, and shows signs of moderate to severe addiction. The girl has gone as far as becoming comically feral if the correct percentage of nicotine isn't present in her bloodstream, leading her to become somewhat rash and barbaric. Amidst, lies the root of her plight, due to the shared weight of the young in tandem with deeper insecurities. Having lost family to at the time incurable illnesses, Spirit was unable to obtain a hold on the intricacies of forming relations, having been forced into situational abandonment and was made to take her life into her own hands. She decided the life of a frontiersman to be a suitable choice as the lifestyle had paid as well as it had endangered it's participants. Circa postulated nothing could be more correct than to attain furious glory, or to burn out in the literal caverns of obscurity. Although helpful and an easy learner among field doctors, her ambitious attitude earned her a mark of reluctance from her comrades, unable to see she had metaphorically curled into a ball, and was suckling ever so weakly at the teat of vision fire. The girl, although painted with a bestial streak, had never been one to be oblivious to the ocean of the empath. The waves of feeling that engulfed her in all but a harried situation in which she was the woman to call, were foreboding, distasted, and off-put. In result, Circa had become somewhat of the misanthropic typing, claiming her guild mates to be below her ability and assistive genius. Furthered was her heart's gallows of the island, leading her to becoming hyper-receptive and easily dyed any color. Born a passive girl, the Vampyrial nation took advantage of a malleable introvert and brushed her with their ideological oils. The autumn alchemist and vanguard to heaven was made to the fabric of the purgatorial highwayman. Alas, a combination of Vampyrical alteration, her addiction, and the pressures of wide scale conflict have driven the girl to become adverse to food and a bulimic. At times she can become tired quite easily as a result, and coupled with her already dangerous plasmatic and wrist slitter implementations, her compatriot Break Heart wonders at heart if his caretaker has a death wish written upon the parchment of her subconscious.
Backstory:
Circa had for the longest time been partial to external warmth. Her birth raiment dashed in it's native precipitation, the soothing pre-grind relief emanated and coursed about her in chilling waves. Currently she proposed to be of little mind, allowing her blitzed light stream of consciousness to come to low tide. In the sauna she heavied against the heat glazed tile, and graced it with her port as she gave into a manner of setting. Her cycle of oxygenic draw and release had taken to a state of being as weighted as her road until the present. What was inside her, purported to be her only tangible sense of fulfillment. The alchemist cherished the thick, sultry fullness she was experiencing. Face muscles tightened, she exhaled; such was the fetish of the herbalist. She loosened her grip on the shaft of her desire, lips wavering as her life river had begun to reach it's familiar saturation. Spirit's right hand weakly twitched, lightly cusping the etherial length which brought her to calm. With little intended strength she made a sort of double edged smirk, her spring blue irises twinkled in a feeling of disapproval. She'd made her friend bone dry. "Cauterizers never hold enough juice" the addict remarked to the silence. What she held and had been enjoying was a relatively new technology, mechanized pipes capable of relaying relief and enforced mental order upon the absorption of inhaled vapor from liquid contained within detachable, disposable suckling tips. Less life threatening than their organic counterparts, inhalants of this echelon had always been in short supply no matter what avenue they had made their way to the alchemist. The overall light nature of the vapor was a delightful change of pace from her usual thick and possibly spasm inducing normality of shag leaf. Alas, the mage's body was a greedy sort. Favorable substances and tastings commanded that she acquire them in high numbers, as of late this had become less than a problem thanks to the accommodating Vampyrical operators placed under her by the imperial college. If he could partake in air, her accompanying compatriot would've let out a respiration of disdain. "We've gone over this gal, if for some linen tearing chance that my senses had been altered, I'd say you were in proper ecstasy by those faces you make" the cleaver pulsed " My eyes are no more, still, the way of things doth not prevent me from mortal observation. This fetish of yours is the most bizarre thing anyone has ever had me discover, it's less understandable than the louts who enjoy hog ties and old leather". Circa turned her electric gaze to her ancient talking tonnage. " I could've made the same assessment if it weren't for me" she rested her cheek in her dominant left hand "I don't even entertain the notion of physical friction like I used to. It just makes me feel out of order. Not saying I would deny a helping of that pie, it seems to me that kind of thing is a pipe dream". The girl shook in a moment of storm like, staggered whopping with a side of moving shoulders. "I just chose to forget it, it's not relevant". In lieu of Circa's mighty and youthfully detestable impression on the sword, Break Heart couldn't help but allow a passing of pity sprightly dance across it's analytical core. She was of ripe enough standing, and even through harrowing, any species is capable of the urge to breed. It disturbed Circa's blade how she'd so autonomously filed such a thing under the categorization of situational frozenness, and how well she was doing it. In the hurricane spheres granting her sight, bolted only lust for an end, a perpetual sense of meaningfulness. The head of one of the men under her discretion popped from the door nearest the mage, peering downward as to not startle propriety. "Ma'am. I ask you quickly finish your meditation. We're going to need your direction in the hour, a Hallowsian regiment is just outside our station." the otherwise forgettable looking dark elf displayed a furrowed brow colored with respect and discomfort "The discretion of our tactics division advises we pull you to cook them princess, if we're to open the gate to the heart". The boy like female stumbled to bipedal status, her class B endowments readily exposed to her underling. "Got that Daysday, and hey" the "princess" beckoned her servant to look directly at her, and so he did "it's not like we're strangers, and besides, I feel alright around you dude folk". Miss Konakasta's officer chortled oafishly, even though in both Vampyrian and Hallowsian cultures in was perfectly acceptable for an older man to discourse with an unencumbered young woman like he was. "That we're not. In any case, the enemy outside isn't doing anything as we speak oddly enough. I wouldn't expect that to last forever war chief, I and the others will await you at blade's edge. Please hurry outside". With that the dark folk made his exit, presumably to the nearest entrance to the outside. Circa pushed herself to her garments which hung loose amidst the proximity of the sauna door. Haphazardly she slid into booties and her barely past knee length chocolate wool skirt. Next came her collared uniform shirt, with hue was that of the blizzard raging outside. To complete her fashion armament, Circa donned her dirt blushed guild jacket, and fixed her tie of Crimson. Flustered-like the mage straddled Break Heart onto her back along with her slung elbow blades, all the while stomping her way into laceless boots. Hurriedly Circa removed herself from the nirvana of privacy that was the steamed room and marched straight toward stained glass nearest her. She fisted a hole, and impregnated the seal between the innards of her station and the cold outside, shards of super hardened carbon chipping away at miniscule bits of her skin as she passed through. In the drop of two floors, the updraft of absolute zero greeted her nether regions with instant numbness before she touched down. The mage landed in a hunch, bits of snow scattered in response to her descent. Before her stood a small outfit of what seemed an elite caliber Hallowsian detachment. They were too lightly armored, the swift men of the snow. A squad of the palest race among living things, sky elves. The enemy presence was strong, but thin. To Sprit this was not fit for a long, drawn out dive for territory, rather an event of the raiding, scouting, or diplomatic crux. The youth bellowed amusement in a blustering tone. "I didn't quite get the chance to be fully relaxed but I swear I used to work with some of you. I'm not impaired you can count on that. I think it's good you guys have a sense of humor showing up here, but we've got it handled" the champion of Vampyra took a moment to obtain a stogie from her coat pocket, it lit with a snap. With bloated air she huffed in her leaf and exhaled in challenge. "You're not moving". A beastly glare shot out from the commander in chief. She kneeled and placed both palms on the ground. The ice around began to melt with quickness. The cigar which inhabited the fifteen year old's mouth flickered a burning end of the azure hue. Circa began to respirate weightily, grunts of excitement and pain followed concert. An aura of tainted saintly glory rushed to bathe the oppressing figurehead. In unison the Hallowsian camp parted and a sweet retort sailed through the air, causing Spirit to blush quite a bit beneath it all. "I still strong with you!. I, to the complete surprise of my people, haven't relinquished my love. You wouldn't, you couldn't Circa! That super mass of summer is less than amazing, come now!". The sparking, violent plasmatic envelope which hummed among Circa slowed in a sense, to the effect that her presence wasn't quite as intimidating and her person was more clear. The fates brushed a grimace upon her. "I really wish you hadn't had come here, WInter" Circa removed her smoke momentarily and hacked a wee bit "I made a decision, this is how I'll carve my name into the oak of memory". The harsh wind moaned in treble tone, picking up the slack in vocal concerto, for practical silence befell the friends in the storm. Trixanne, the winter mint of the pole, and presiding carrier of the illusion mage mark of Hallows' Shimoda family pierced the chilled space with the spiritual fire stained within her nebulae-like fuchsia windows of soul. "You understand we are quite possibly are in direct contact with the finest spectral fiber, right sis?" Wintermint frowned herself just before raising her tone to match the harshness of the gusting currents buffeting them "I'm sure you figure by now our world soul is artificial, excessive discharge is potentially going to rupture what little sustain there is". Beneath great lengths of platinum strands of memoir, genuine wisdom and concern pooled across the soft thirteen year old face of Circa's opposite. Unlike the aggressing party, Trixanne was more suited to the cold. Atop the severity of the situation she struggled to maintain her foothold. In light of being able to prove differently, the especially fresh individual appeared almost benign and naive in her layers of equine leather. As if to attain symmetry, the pole's own winter mint kneeled and began to form an aura as her associate had done earlier. Circa barked, intensifying her mana cloak "We'll see which on of us is blocking the future road!". As if startled by the aggravation of the autumn alchemist, the tungsten islands of precipitation floating o'er grumbled. Woe of megaton mucked within Wintermint as she observed the effects of plasma augmentation on her dearest sister figure. "I'm-I'm just not comfortable leaving things as they are-ooo-UH!" a trained ear could detect the atomic broiling of Circa "What you call a return to for-r-r-m is just an impending dis-ss-ss-aster!".
The plasma cloak was complete, putting off a decent amount of glow while maintaining a degree of translucence. It pulsed mightily in Circa's berth, searing, warping the snow around it; causing complete chemical metamorphosis. The visual of Circa wavered as plasma induced steam snaked at her feet. Gritting her teeth, Circa grunted and roared in disconcerting harmony of rage, convulsion, and indomitability. On the inside, she felt the amount of bodily trauma would be understood if chalked up to a climax. She would succeed. This would be over shortly, mourned and out of mind. On the other side, prophesied by her benefactor, was the world heart. 'Twas only a thing of delicate operation. The plan was to penetrate the veil, and light the first lantern upon the artery of recovery. Dimensional fusion was unfathomable and unacceptable to Circa. The people of her world were forced a hand and cast out in aeons past, and it was feared by those of the Vampyrical mindset that such wouldn't have changed should Hallowsian merge sympathizers successfully allow it. It seemed to Circa that in every possible world was a lack of empathy. She expected no different of whatever lay beyond. Thus, the reality of her fear fortified her fighting spirit. Rival destinies had it that sugar lipped Trixanne feel that a merge was what was best for those on the other side as well as the inhabitants of the vector, and was always an inevitability. Circa adored pint sized Trixanne, and for a moment looked to her friend suchly, openly for a final time. In the flickering of a wisp, the plasma cloak bursted with torque. "This was it, if I have to knock you down for progress, then so be it. I honestly had hoped you could see this through some other way" Wintermint bit her tongue in shame "Carry, and fall". A sudden updraft pushed outward from Trixanne, immediately causing a sort of true sub zero. Circa lifted a brow. "Show me Trixie, just how great and powerful you are". In fitting polarity, at ends of belief, and nature of power, fate's rival swords had come to parlay. "This is my namesake, I learned a lot just by being around you Spirit., this is the Winter Mint road!" Circa's "Trixie" remarked. The dimples of Vampyra's champion puffed out in awe. "You realize by that display of talent, nevertheless I'm impressed, that you're just walking on thinner ice?" she inquired. "That's provided enough mana, energy or life is present to saturate and permeate the veil" the thirteen year old reminded. "Well.." the gears of Spirit's deductive system ground furiously as to figure the logistics behind the opposing force's action. "She's caught you" Break Heart interjected "I induce that there isn't as many here as she would have you believe, she had you before this conversation even started. She's gold, cold, bold". "What?...what..?....what...?....WHAT?" Circa was bamboozled. Her opponent's MIrror position was perhaps more than a match to power. It started to make sense, after a following of secondary checking of her sight on her adversary did Circa see a method familiar to her. "The wolf man's hunch, that's mine!" she spoke " You really are my sister, it's even in your step". She bolted, with stormed feet, in milliseconds being before her sparring partner. The illusionary mage did not flinch, instead allowing herself to be graced by her former friend. Thankfully for the one who pulled the strings of sight, her Winter Mint cloak buzzed against the berserker's, mitigating any harm. "I think it's a fair question, is it worth it?" Circa's left hand wildly twitched above Wintermint along with the cloak to cloak action. Her junior remained still with twin fuchsian suns flaring, she stood up and increased the tearing between cloaking. "If I kill you, I'll bring you back and smack more sense into you. If you die again-" sparks began to fly to all ends of the world, through her chilled protection Trixanne gripped and butted the autumn alchemist. She proceeded to do such repeatedly without so much as resistance, speaking between each strike "I-WILL-KEEP-BRINGING-YOU-BACK-UNTIL-YOU-GET-IT". She wasn't a front line sort of fighter, her mint mode began to wear on her mana pool and recoil seeped through to her cranial region. A charred scent rose up from the small magician, her cayenne life wine ran from a concussively induced slit above her right eye. With lids shut, Spirit hacked, causing her smoke to fall victim to the blizzard ice. Dazedly she lifted said sight curtains, crookedly smiling all the way. "Never thought I'd damn the fact of a liberated mind, I blame free thought for all of this". The girl reached for Break Heart, swiftly gripping it and positioned it behind Trixanne's port side. "I doubt myself a lot, I question this whole fiasco, but you get me. The deal isn't to question everything, you'll never feel solid. My cause is my solidity at this point. I'm not going to say the world will thank you later for you contribution, because it won't. Maybe we'll end up on the same side next time?" stars of remorse almost glistened in Spirit's gaze as she quivered. Suddenly, Wintermint melted into some sort of gel. The headbutting was in fact real, but skillfully Wintermint managed to reposition herself afterward. The two were indeed in fact inside an illusion support field, and with however large an amount of mana it was charged, it would persist. The younger of the mages had indeed acquired an upper hand on some sort. This time, she appeared to be poking a rapier into Circa's back. "I'll sort this whole thing out" Trixanne was unable to shed but a frozen drop of emotional letting "I'm gonna-". In a flash Circa pivoted on her foot and clocked the girl square in her A's. Trixanne wheezed as the sheer force of the blow slid her back a foot or two. "Give me my final moments as a human being" Circa grunted as she had earlier "Better not let the dark side win!".
Spirit hunched over, bearing her canines and giving herself to the fight. She offered more of her mana pool, and her body to the plasma. Circa surmised that she wouldn't be much of a fight after this one, extended foray with the plasmatic art meant excruciating pain and inability to function. On the other hand she needed to rupture the veil just enough, allowing her access to the heart. In any other case she figured she'd prefer to hold back quite a bit more against her friend of years, however the objective at hand didn't permit so. The reality of having the nectar of a blossoming soul hemorrhage by her hand was less than okay with her, and the fate of the countless others she felt rested on her success. It angered her that the last straw had to come in the incarnation of something so dear to her. She'd mulled it for the umpteenth moment, the fates weren't a fair bunch. The senior jolted forward in pursuit of her target, a fist reared behind. A thicker layer of protection amassed itself on her reared hand as it's controller stopped as lighting, launching the clenched appendage in thrust.
WIntermint caught the mana infused punch with the thickest part of her blade of unicorn horn, nearest the base. The energy was channeled through the sword and repelled back as the illusionist made a counter swipe, causing a shock wave. "The sword's fang, you've become another person while I've been away!" Circa exclaimed post rolling "At least, this isn't boring". "This is becoming more trouble than it's supposedly worth" Break Heart once again pulsated as movement rocked it in it's sling "Granted I know the history between you two but you've got to be professional". He wasn't far off from the truth, Circa would need to put a stop to this soon. The wear and tear of the plasma magic was starting to char her ever so slightly, and she wasn't quite keen on having herself for dinner. The girl removed Break Heart from it's sling and planted it into the ground. Furiously, aided by the punishing magic coursing about her, CIrca weaved nature channeling runes around the sword. "Let's get it" Circa huffed "Straight to Ultima". Two bolts of Plasma cooked their way through the area, traveling Winter mint's way. "If I can't have the heart, then we'll see how you feel about these other lives" thunder rumbled "This is a mass area spell, it's my best, learned a bit more about lightning from the regent himself. The illusionist parried the bolts, and sent them soaring into the elsewhere. Wintermint was hurt and surprised at this sight. She simply would not have it. Murder was not an acceptable solution to losing the heart. Supposedly unlike CIrca, the magician of the eye had at least some essence of compassion. "You will not indignate these people, these misguided, yet unblemished people" Wintermint declared "This is out of hand, even for you Circa".
"I can't leave the fate of our people, and the other people to someone who just doesn't understand how subjection works" Circa noted in the seconds before a council of clouds hovered above her ominous midst. A laser of plasma gently drifted from the gang of cumulonimbus. The ability to soak sound was now impossible. Present was silence in the mana. From Wintermint's perspective, Circa's plasmatic aura was now far too bright around her to even be useful. She began to carve blindly, runes of the sea from muscle memory into the ground nearest her. There was no doubt the veil was going to tear, at least from what she was about to do she could spare those unable to make a stand in their confrontation. The surrounding area began to visually fry, as if swallowed by a sun titan. She could not see, she could not hear. Drawing from the mana closest to her soul, she threw into a parry maneuver in an attempt to save those whom some other individual held dear. She yelled as hard as she could, despite the lack of sound, proper incantation should've counted to her nonetheless. "Block, Cannon!" mouthed WIntermint, her consciousness began to slow, the white warming her. She willed the spell to take her life essence if it must, if only for the cause. The cause. She'd always wondered if anyone had thought or felt beyond the two great causes as of late. What she thought failed to matter greatly, that much she could tell by some means was true. Her last, strong feeling was that of: "Yeah, I can tell, I got it. Circa, let's go home". The veil was ripped, as the dimensional fission caused by the ultimate unleashed by Circa and the absorption by Winter, the only aware one of the two was able to see that they were not in the same area anymore as it seemed. Circa, in shock, felt no after affects of her endeavor. The surrounding area was only an adrift Wintermint, perhaps no longer in life. Circa swam toward her endeared comrade of the past, and held her close for a moment. She was at peace. The burden of nations no longer upon her. Circa's heart began to beat sporadically. A sort of inner hearth blazed within her. The gates to her face moistened, she grit her teeth in mourning.
SIght left her as for an eternal second she locked Winter's set of labium, and hers. "The peppermint peaks were never a competition" Spirit finished, a stream of life water dripped slightly from her mouth "Trixanne, you were the natural world". Circa pushed away, wishing she could've given more of a proper goodbye. She'd think it all over later. In the flow, the realm of the heart, she autonomically swiped the swimming Break Heart and re positioned him in her sling. Ahead of her she spotted a floor. The alchemist continued her swim until she could sea walk, essentially, toward a sort of pair of large, yet thin doors.
On the other side, you will find yourself a part of a system
You will sense the entity needed to realize the world
I have faith in you
-Vampyrial
Sat May 11, 2013 5:27 pm
