With no time to just stand around checking bodies for signs of life, Martyr ran up the stairs. She knew she didn't want to know. She couldn't tell herself that they were probably alive if she knew for a fact that they were dead. Sucking in a breath, long legs carried her to Solaris' tower above.
Part of her felt like a noble prince, headed up to the tallest tower in the castle to save a princess and defeat a dragon, or a warlock, or whatever Solaris was... There was no Princess, though. She knew this for a fact. Solaris had killed her damsel, her best friend. For that alone, he had to pay. Martyr could have waited for Nazareth, but if she could get this done without her...what was the sense in putting her in danger? She saw the door, ran for it, and directed a soul blast that would surely send it flying off its hinges. "Solaris!" she howled.
The blast popped the door clean free of the frame and sent it smoking and coursing through the air and smashing into the far wall of the man?s room where it blasted to shards. He had his arm crossed over his face as a prepared shield as it was unknown what was to follow. Turns out Martyr?s voice was to follow. Solaris slips of his bed, pulls on his trousers, clasps his belt and strolls calmly through the broken doorframe that was still veiled by layered ribbons of hot steam. ?Okay, okay,? the shirtless man said leaning into the frame. ?What is it, Martyr? What is it now??
Martyr's eyes narrowed, looking through him. She panted, and it looked as if she was already spent. She was far from it, though. She wouldn't rest, until his beating heart was in her hand... "Solaris..." Martyr whispered and looked at him. "Only one of us is c-coming out of this room alive.." The girl whispered softly. "I m-mean it."
?Oh goodie, a threat. I think you?re the last of my children to issue me one. Shall we celebrate with a drink of wine?? Motive there perhaps but he didn?t budge from the doorframe. ?If this is about Phoenix I think your hatred of me is a little misplaced. Whatever it is you think,? said with a factual overbear and a shaking of his head, ?you are misguided. Phoenix foolishly split from her body, got her soul all tangled up with lord-knows-what and it zapped that poor artificial body to pieces. I think you should thank me, it must?ve been very painful.
Nazareth was in no rush to bombard into the room. She?d heard the voices from the stairwell, had smelled the charred air as it had been scorched by a sudden outburst of energy, and understood that Martyr was laying it all down for her father. Traditionally it was not like Nazareth to lay the spotlight down, but in this case she had agreed to terms and was unwilling to relinquish her pledge.
Martyr shook her head in a violent, but firm protest. "This is about Phoenix and y-you have n-no right. You k-killed her out of your own will to be spiteful.. It's about you, though.. It's about you, and I'm n-not going to let you hurt anyone else..." Cold violet eyes trailed up to him, "I'm n-not afraid of you anymore... So f-fight m-me or d-die." Martyr said, holding her arm out to the side. A blade came from her flesh, and with her hair covering her eyes, she finished the summon.
Solaris leaned away from the door frame and let his arms fall down loosely at his side. Martyr?s words could very well be just that, but there was most certainly qualities of unquenchable violence on her face and cadence that had never been there before. At heart the man was of course not in the least afraid of her ability to injure him, but he did not want to consider the possibility of losing. ?Then kill me, Martyr. If--?
In the hall, about thirty feet from the door frame where the standoff was rehearsed, Nazareth was unsheathing her blade and approaching with a benevolent serenity. She?d removed the blade and, as she walked, let the sharp tip drag across the flooring behind her like a child would a blanket. It cuts through the hardwood and a straight division of board would trance her movements towards the pair.
Hearing the scraping of steel on wood, Solaris leaned his head into the hall and squinted to discern the source. Looked like Phoenix after the splicing of her soul, and suddenly he was confused. He would have to act or suffer consequences unknown so, quickly, he turns a swift punch into Martyr?s chest, opens his palm after contact and fires a thin but powerfully dense and impactful blast of soul energy right into the girl?s chest. It would be enough to blow a hole through her flesh and send her into the wall behind, if not completely -through- the wall and into the room held behind it.
Martyr's insides were blasted though, and she slammed into the wall. This, normally, would have been enough to set her on the path of curling and crying. Her wound was closing even as she sank down the wall, leaving a path of precious blood to her limp body. Hair covered her eyes and she was still for a while. Seconds, minutes, who was counting?
Her hand was killing her, though. In this, she found humor. Irony. Bitter, hilarious irony. Too much humor, in fact. Martyr's body was just blasted through with pure fragments of her father's soul, and yet, her hand was hurting. Martyr looked down at it, and the symbol on her hand, the sign of her curse was bruising and spreading up her wrist like an infectious disease. Honed teeth were displayed, and she started cackling. Her eyes were covered by her hair for a moment, as the laughter-accompanied with blood- hauntingly spilled from her lips.
Nazareth instantly rushed forward, blade slung behind her waist with both hands employed to the hilt, ready to strike, ready so sever. This segment of the mission, the goal as it were, was Martyr?s to execute. Nazareth knew that Martyr would be up in a few minutes (or so she should, the Dominioness considered that members of the girl?s family might be able to afflict her in different ways to cause more reprehensible damage) but she couldn?t let this man dissect her as she took the time needed to remend her flesh.
Solaris stepped out of the hall to face the fleetfooted blonde. He smashes into the floorboards below with his right foot and, garnered with a little more energy just as the blow before, sends a roaring wave of torn-up boards and flame-like light tearing through the passageway towards Nazareth.
No where to run, time to think outside the box, or outside the hall in this case. To the right of the girl was a sealed door. Just as the swift wave of debris and roaring energy was close enough to nip her flesh from the heat of Solaris? vibrant soul, Nazareth, in a lightning bolt of a move, split the door completely in half with a swing of her blade and dove through the split passage to avoid the wave.
Martyr was already up. Her dislocated shoulder popped back into place and she continued to chuckle as she stared at her hand. "It hurts... It shouldn't compare...but oh god, it does.." Martyr said as if drunk with joy. She moved her palm to display the symbol, while looking up at him with golden eyes. The wide grin was spread over face like a plague, a maddening gin that seemed to take up her features. She moved for Solaris, staring at him with that empty, golden gaze.
The man was startled by his daughter?s appeal to the damage; the Slanes were known as the best-blooded immortals in recent history, if not ever, but Solaris knew the his daughter should still be on the ground fighting for reparation of flesh and bone and tendon. The man backed up as the consignment of alien features were discovered. ?Just what---Just what is this! What in world have you done to yourself.? The shock leaves and is replaced with understanding fury. ?You fool. . you damn fool, you?ve no idea what it is you?ve subjected yourself to.?
Martyr laughed through his speech, and looked at him with squinting at him with wild yellow irises. She moved closer, and her blade was reborn on her arm. "I knowwwwww." The girl dragged out her words, and continued to look at him with a wicked bliss. "Now, I made a promise... So I'm going to need your heeeaaaarrrt." Martyr said, and moved closer. If he didn't react, she'd be swinging and sending a soul blast through her weapon, to slam into his chest. If she got him on the ground, it was all over.
To be continued. . .