Encounterlogs
Ritsukas Odd Encounter Sr Ash 241113
In a somber, rain-drenched afternoon within the serene confines of a shrine home, Ritsuka finds herself ensnared in a task of cosmic importance. Amidst the storm that seems to whisper of ancient griefs and epic tales, she is beckoned by Vaelys, the Frostcaller, a ghost of power and tragedy, entrusting Ritsuka with a mission of dire urgency. A group, known as The Destined Host, is on the verge of corrupting Vaelys' legacy, aiming to twist her sorrow into a beacon for demonic summoning. With the rain as her herald and the mists as her guide, Ritsuka prepares for battle, armed with the blade and bow, and calling upon her allies for support. Their journey through the forest, led by the mists, unfolds with a mythic aura, steering them toward a clandestine ritual where the fate of many would hinge upon Ritsuka's actions.
The confrontation in the clearing, under the cloak of nature and night, escalates rapidly from a standoff to a chaotic melee. Despite offers of mercy and paths to surrender, the cultists, led by Vera, choose aggression, drawing Ritsuka and her allies into combat. The battle is both physical and ideological, with Ritsuka striving to protect not just the physical realm but also the sanctity of Vaelys' mourning. Bloodshed and mystic summoning attempts mar the clearing until an unintended disruption of the ritual circle consumes it in a catastrophic implosion, sparing only those marked by mercy and swift action. In the aftermath, the mists part, leaving behind a scene of loss and a faint hope of redemption. Vera's desertion, leaving behind Elisa in Ritsuka's care, speaks volumes of the complex human and demonic relationships entangled in the affair. As the storm resumes its lament, Ritsuka, bearing the weight of the outcome, reflects on the choices made and the lives altered, with the resolve to face the consequences and the uncertainties of the morrow.
(Ritsuka's odd encounter(SRAsh):SRAsh)
[Tue Nov 12 2024]
In an Entrance Hall and Kitchen
The entrance to the shrine home is simple and elegant. The entrance is made up out of a smooth stone floor at the genkan, the traditional Japanese entryway. A small, neatly arranged rack holds different pairs of women oriented shoes, while a low wooden bench offers a place to sit and remove footwear before stepping up onto the polished wooden floors of the main home. Above, an overhead beam made from dark cedar wood bears hand-carved motifs of swirling clouds and sacred cranes, symbols of longevity and protection.
To the side, the kitchen area appears to be both functional and minimalist. A simple wooden counter, free of clutter, holds carefully arranged utensils and a ceramic tea set. A black iron kettle sits atop a traditional stove. Small shelves on the wall display earthenware jars containing rice, miso, and other essentials, each jar decorated with intricate calligraphy.
It is afternoon, about 48F(8C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining outside.
(Your target discovers a member of The Destined Host conducting a dark ritual in the graveyard at midnight. The ritual seems to be aimed at summoning a powerful demon into the world. The character has to disrupt the ritual and fend off the cultist and any supernatural forces they've already summoned, all while avoiding becoming a sacrifice themselves. They must survive long enough for their allies to arrive and help them put an end to the dark ritual.)
Ritsuka seems to really just be having an idle day. She listens as the storm wails at its worst outside. It's been very therapeutic to her, in truth. And today it is that, plus a little bit of browsing on her phone, but even that appears to be very limited for some reason. Little of it draws to her actual interests, but for a single day, she doesn't mind. For one day, today, because the rain still is still there, and she listens. And remembers. As it was meant to be, and so be it.
The afternoon is cool, and the rain outside is cooler. Threatening sleet, flirting with frost, as the clouds embody Vaelys' tears, once more. The mourning returns, once again, as a flicker of a memory. The grief of the mists. Once upon a time, there was a powerful woman... but she became cursed. Trapped in the form of a snow leopard of monstrous size and power, she was still, as yet, too powerful for the people to handle. So, far into the depths on Gharrek, the frozen tundra of the Wilds, she was interred, still living, within a cavern on a mountain top. Even then, she was powerful, for she could call, and running would come every animal, every person, every living creature in hearing, and they would come to her with adoration, with obedience, and bow before her.
She ate each and every one of them.
For how long was she there? Years? No, decades? No, centuries... a lifetime, but for the Wilds, the lifetime of such a powerful being lasts so long that none remembered her birth but the mists. And so, she lived in this way, eating, but trapped, growing corpulent and mighty. Many came to her, to slay her, to challenge her, to end her reign - and none survived... until, one day.
On this day, the culmination of one plan was all it took. One clever plan, by one hungry, by one intelligent, fierce, by one other snow leopard with the knowledge and resources of two worlds, with the money to buy any research, ingredients, and tools that she desired. She called her allies - her beloved and her minion, her comrade, her rival, and even an enemy, under truce. Together, they went to the mountain with... a goat. A goat named Oscar, whom the minion was fond of, whose presence had brought chaos in the lives of several... but, in this moment... he was but a vessel for a powerful potion
The powerful creature called for her meal, and the goat went with them, eaten in an instant. Then came her hunters... there was a battle, but drugged, and beaten by the hammer of a godling, she did not last long. Still living, however, there was at least one way to skin this cat... and so she was. The being finally passed... and her ghost, and her curse, was held in the pelt. A pelt that was then cleansed by the smaller, living snow leopard, releasing said ghost... powerful, even in her death.
This spirit regained her memories, of the time before her curse, and remembered who she was... Vaelys, the Frostcaller. The Brumal Empress. The Lady of the Mists. And she wanted it back. She wanted who she was, who she was meant to be, back, to rule once more. But, long past her life... she needed help. And so, she did not desire vengeance upon those who had slain her - they had freedom. No, what she offered was a simple transaction. Power for Power. And so were the Heralds of Winter's Grasp born.
The snow leopard was her seer - the one who had engineered her release, and who now had the most powerful pact. For her own growth, and for the protection of all the world sealed in mist, this and the other, the Wild... she would bring Vaelys to power. Her mate, the godling whose self-forged hammer had brought the powerful empress to bow was the first of her Frostcallers. Last was the minion, in this day now the only Inheritor of her Will and story. But, these tears from the sky? These were for the wolf.
Powerful, deadly, he was a monster, no doubt. But, this wolf was hers. The mists parted for him, and followed in his wake, as he tore and shred through her enemies, all that stood in her way. Whatever pact he had with her was hidden, sacred... but it was no mere marriage of convenience. His heart was hers, and he protected hers. Until the moon would no longer shine on him, until the black of corruption reached his heart, until prophesies whispered, and silver found him. And so, she wept.
In those tears, she soothed the wounds of others. Her sorrow brought them strength, and her tears came with kindness, inspiration, and empowerment. The loss of one great being watered and fed others, until even the sound of rain brought peace, brought courage, and brought a clear path, cleansed and opened by the flow of water, for the likes of them to walk down.
Ritsuka knows this, but the raindrops tell her this story anyways, the rumbling of clouds, the whispering of wind, and the rising of mist singing her a tale. However... the very end comes with a request. "You, the tree watered by my tears, flowers blooming in pride and focus... I ask of you, one last time. They come for my mists, they come for his soul. Tonight, when the dark reaches its peak, at midnight... the ritual will finish. My mists will be stolen and twisted for their cause. The taint in his corpse will be drawn upon, and will feed this demon they wish to call. Before this can happen, while they plan to sully my gifts... I ask that you end this mockery of my grief, by destroying these monsters."
It is perhaps in that moment that Ritsuka does close her eyes. Oh how terribly she had wished to listen to the haunt that came with the storm. But more than the storm, she cannot have. Her phone slips from her fingers and just drops to the floor, and she listens. Listens... and remembers... remembers She of the mists. Oh even at this place, here in this kitchen, dedicated to another kami, the memories are still held dearly, close to the heart, cherished, and when the all too familiar voice touches upon her heart, she almost leans against it. But of course there wasn't anyone, and the lids of her eyes slowly begin to open. There is just this tiniest smile that forms over her lips. She had longed for it, more than so much else. No one that could really truly know, for no one else was there to have experienced it the way that she had. One of her hands draws up to her own cheek, where once, She had placed a tender kiss upon her cheek and gifted her, as a goodbye - and an unknowing birthday gift.
Her breathing is calm, and this once, it takes a few more seconds for her before she rises. I miss you. Thoughts she does not say, but thoughts that are known. And then the silent agreement, as she makes to stand and then bow, and then to turn through another door, and another yet again, to retrieve both blade and bow, and armor, too. She had killed with the blade, but all the pain that she had been pushed into recently had already stolen all the regret and guilt she bore. And more than that yet - if you need to fight a monster...
She suits herself into her own equipment, places the blade at her hip and picks up her phone again and she enters on to make a few calls. They are all friends, people she had come to know, people able to combat, more than that. For had she not already experienced? She alone may ever need to choose a more extreme option. This was Haven, and sanctuary protects. Mostly. It does not from those truly monsters, fleshformed to no longer be recognized by the spell. Though whether they would answer or not, did it matter? Of course not, for the breathe she breathes in through her nose feels fresh, it fills her lungs and she remembers. "Where do I need to go, Frostcaller-kami?" The first words she comes to choose to tell, tender, soft, gentle, sweet. She will be there for her and remember, as she, too, will -is- remembered.
"Follow my mists...," the rain murmurs, the voice fading surely now, and from underneath the kitchen door, the mists beckon. They will remain for a time, so long as it takes for Ritsuka to prepare, and then lead her on.
By this time, surely, the others will arrive. Mr. Yoshihisa arrives first... punctual. One might wonder if he was local, or if he had the power to Path... but, it didn't matter, he was there, carrying a briefcase. Ritsuka may recognize it as 'supplies', the sort that only Hanshin could provide, keeping her needs and company worth in mind when choosing what these entail. He offers a polite bow, following the ways that may remind Ritsuka of home. Lucienne arrives next, her hair flowing and fluttering behind her like brown ribbons on the wind, without evident supplies... she is the sort that either doesn't need any, or they will find their ways into her hands right when she needs them. Ms. Saito comes fully prepared, of course. For violence, for surveillance, for whatever the situation might need. She's likely the last to arrive due to her needs to prepare.
The trail leads into the forest, where no path lies on the ground. And yet, the mists borders the way, creating a corridor for Ritsuka to safely walk. No monsters bar her path, not a single creature approaches. Though the mists cannot grab or pull, they can control and block, whisper and lead, and so... Ritsuka is her hands, and she makes the path.
The path goes on for just long enough that one might wonder if taking a vehicle or horse would be better... until suddenly, it stops. No... it peters out. There's a fainter trail, small, quiet... perhaps, a message in itself. By this time, it would be very clear to Ritsuka that she is the only one seeing the mists... the others simply follow her lead.
The mist leads behind and around trees, and will lead, eventually, to a clearing, where the ritual is already underway. There's seven practitioners in a circle, and the rain from above seems to be drawn into it, a funnel of water, that drops into... nothingness. There's no pool, no vessel, the water just disappears. And so, too, does the mists, and a dark substance, coming from far beyond the trees.
There's more than ten others present. Some are resting, some are working on supplies, a few offer lazy security, confident in the obscurity of the location and wards - wards enough to remain hidden from most spellcasters... but not one who is essentially a goddess.
goes on to hide behind a tree and throughout the journey, she had really felt the want, need to talk about Her again. But the three already know, already listened a countless times to the words from her heart. Just the day before yesterday she was more prepared in the knowledge that she may have yet to stand alone, where once, she could have relied on the Order for help, and somehow, this small and little request, was still a gift all the same, for they all came and joined her. She wasn't alone. She didn't need to do this without help, for surely a blade would need to be drawn here, had she been entirely on her own.
"Hide here and have your ranged weaponry ready. I- it will put me at a disadvantage, but they deserve a chance to walk away. A single one, before it may yet turn or become violent." She smiles to them, they are her friends, after all, and others would be here, too, if they could.
It does draw a smile to her gaze, one that lasts only so long until she draws around, under her kimono to place the mask over her face. Maybe she should have made the markings blue? Maybe. Just maybe, in another form of honoring, but that thought is not why she is here. She touches over the hilt of her weapon, and its saya, the katana's sheath, and makes sure the blade is ready. Just in case. Her approach is most certainly not approved by all, Yuki hates it, it is a risk no one should take. Haranobu worries, he will say it is impractical, but he is the one that was supposed to care for her in the company, be her contact, the one to guide her, and it has only blossomed into this friendship, though in front of other people in the company, she still had to be his pupil. Lucienne, it is what she had always know of Ritsuka, it is no different today, the price of virtue is a heavy one, and one she, too, believes the Order has failed to uphold recently. It wasn't fair, but there was naught to be done.
There is a light breathe then as the kitsune masked maiden begins her step over in the open, slow, on steady steps, she herself like a mist slowly drawing by...
The marks on the men and women are clear to Ritsuka. a crimson hand holding a blackened, thorned crown. On their clothes, their focii, and even as part of the ritual circle itself. Though, if she'd seen them before, would her response be any different? It's not even one of the guards that spot her first - so lax is their attentions. It is one of the arcanists resting, getting up to use the bathroom - except, there is a lass in a kitsune mask standing before her.
She yelps, dropping her STP and fumbling for a weapon when she announces, "Intruder! It's a weirdo!" Says, of course, the cultist part of a group summoning demons in the woods, her hypocrisy over a mask wearer ridiculous. Others perk up, sans the seven performing, and the guards hurry over - all of them, even. One woman is woken up in particular, blinking as her assistant points to Ritsuka, and she waves him away, coming to her feet.
"Hey, back to your positions! Mike, Erica, on me!" She shouts orders, gaining her bearings clearly, and send majority of the guards back. "She may not be alone," she warns, making her way towards Ritsuka. On her way, she smacks the rude woman upside the back of her head, hissing, "You're a fucking Mancer, Elisa. Prepare to summon or cast, fool." Elsa murmurs something back, and she blinks, before pushing Elisa away. She might be more pissed now than she was woken up to an intruder.
Standing before Ritsuka at a safe distance - out of melee, for most supernaturals - and crosses her arms. She has a crystal hanging on her neck, engraved with the same symbol as the others... an obvious magic focus. She speaks to Ritsuka in a clear voice, asking, "You are intruding upon us. State your business, stranger."
Of course, there is a look given over them, if they carry the all too infamous red aura and of course their weaknesses, as she inherently does, all of it has become routine for situations like this, and goodness, the satisfaction that's running through her to simply appear upon them. Ritsuka's far more mischievous bloodline finds satisfaction in it and there is a thought, a brief wonder if shee could play with them, in some fashion, but that would a test that this does not offer the room for.
Her own posture is still, and she raises a single hand up to place over the mask where her lips hide behind. Words only follow when her hand has lowered to her side again, yet another silent just left to linger, for the only one that may find it to be uncomfortable is the other. Alas, with the rain, some of her blood had been just far too sated, and there is a brief half-glance up that then slowly returns to her opposition, and she cannot help it, and so she also takes just a moment to adjust the sleeve of her kimono. It looks deliberate, it draws attention, and when she is done, the singular word she plays with is "Stranger business!" And my, is that a far too sweet tone spilled sensual? It is.
Ritsuka will will find that it's a mixture. Red is here and there... Elisa is red. So is Mike, Erika, and the others guards. Some of those sleeping are red... others are not. And, of course, the leader and the ritualists... are not red. Someone, it seems, thought ahead. As for weaknesses... a few are mentally ill. Elisa *is* a weakness... and the leader has a weakness, a weakness for another... the other being Elisa. Such things are not always clear, but in this case... there's a bond between them, a red line from one pinky to another. A misty red string....
"Well, then," the leader smirks. "Stranger business is no business of mine, now is it?" She waves her hand, and Mike and Erica lower their weapons to Ritsuka, clearly about to shoot. And yet... supernatural, Ritsuka has time to respond... or for others to do so.
"Hmm-" Ritsuka makes "If you do that, I am going to have to hurt you, pets." She giggles, and the hand does drop to the hilt of her blade "You get just a single chance to stop before I'm going to hurt Elise over there- You do love her very much, don't you?" Some would call this a monstrous game, but her heart yearns all the same to not see anyone die. She was not the fastest, she was not like another friend, but in her rests blood that enables more, nurtured. "You shouldn't treat them as disposables." And then it's all in the move, as the dance between bloodlines takes another direction and the sun rises, and her step grows grow lighter and quicker, and fate holds her dearly. Her words are irritated, angry even. "Surrender and no one needs to be hurt, -She- of the mist demands this to end." Of course her target is Elisa, not to strike, but to take her, to treat as a human shield, to threaten, to force, to push, -to control-.
The woman pauses - and that's all it takes. She might have sacrificed them - her eyes narrowed, her jaw took a firm set to it, her fingers twitched as if to perform a hail mary, and her other fist tightened. The willingness to do what one must, for a cause. The knowledge that sacrifices, sometimes, must be made. The awareness of punishments far more terrifying than in this moment. But, in this moment? She hesitated.
Elisa squeaks, and in her shock - even to her practically human sense of smell, Ritsuka can smell the liquid fear. The leader turns around sharply, her head snapping... and in this moment, she is undone. The embarrassment in Elisa's blush, the fear on her face, the trembling lips... there's a mix, there. Pleasure flows through the leader, evident to see, as her smile oozes across her face, as she bites back an inappropriate sound... it seems like the group may let Ritsuka do as she likes, as chuckles, purrs of pleasure, and hungry delight shows on the group's faces. After all, her threats of terror only strengthen them.
But hesitation, then pleasure - a mistake. Backs are turned to Ritsuka's allies in the woods, opening the group to lethal - or nonlethal - force. There's no intent to desist in pulling the trigger, as guns lift back up from where they wavered. Elisa whispers, "Vera...," and another wave passes through the cultists, as the leader - Vera's face - contorts. Pleasure, pain... love, sacrifice... duty and desire, they prevent her from acting. someone someone Mike and Erica don't have the same trouble, and they decide on taking the 'safer' route - guns aimed down, for limbs, to shoot *through* Elisa, to prolong and increase suffering.
The woman pauses - and that's all it takes. She might have sacrificed them - her eyes narrowed, her jaw took a firm set to it, her fingers twitched as if to perform a hail mary, and her other fist tightened. The willingness to do what one must, for a cause. The knowledge that sacrifices, sometimes, must be made. The awareness of punishments far more terrifying than in this moment. But, in this moment? She hesitated.
Elisa squeaks, and in her shock - even to her practically human sense of smell, Ritsuka can smell the liquid fear. The leader turns around sharply, her head snapping... and in this moment, she is undone. The embarrassment in Elisa's blush, the fear on her face, the trembling lips... there's a mix, there. Pleasure flows through the leader, evident to see, as her smile oozes across her face, as she bites back an inappropriate sound... it seems like the group may let Ritsuka do as she likes, as chuckles, purrs of pleasure, and hungry delight shows on the group's faces. After all, her threats of terror only strengthen them.
But hesitation, then pleasure - a mistake. Backs are turned to Ritsuka's allies in the woods, opening the group to lethal - or nonlethal - force. There's no intent to desist in pulling the trigger, as guns lift back up from where they wavered. Elisa whispers, "Vera...," and another wave passes through the cultists, as the leader - Vera's face - contorts. Pleasure, pain... love, sacrifice... duty and desire, they prevent her from acting.
Mike and Erica don't have the same trouble, and they decide on taking the 'safer' route - guns aimed down, for limbs, to shoot *through* Elisa, to prolong and increase suffering.
And this once, Ritsuka feeds on the fear, because she feels less, and they don't know this, they don't, and that is enough. "That caliber is going to hurt her, me you cannot hurt. Sanctuary protects me, you, I can do with whatever I want, your leaders hadn't made sure you are sure to survive in a confrontation." Her voice is firmer now, the dance of two lines draw for the other to supersede one. "And I am a monster." So she says. "And you are beneath me." To one with her blood, surely, let alone the certainty that they cannot hurt her like she could them. Or her friends could them.
She of course knew that two of the three would almost certainly only rely on lethal applications to weapons, and Lucienne, as she is in her own affiliation, probably here with non lethal means. Someday this will need to be organized, but that does hasn't been today, and won't be tomorrow. Not yet.
She for her own does whisper to Elisa's ear, too. "If you surrender, dear, you can at least return to her when this is done. She will live, she is protected as I am. Don't waste it. The demon will do nothing good for this world, they will kill you at a simple convenience to them, they are horrible."
Elisa, at least, is happy to surrender, hands up, lip trembling as her fear feeds right into Ritsuka. One gets the sense that she's not a fervent believer, though it's obvious why she remains. Hands up, she whimpers, "O-of... of course...." And then, of course, is shot.
Bullets aim for them both, impacting someone, to her evident agony. Vera flinches as her minions make their own decisions, but follows through herself. "Oh, Instofar, Razer of Suns, send your servant a servant to make offerings of pain!" She calls this out loudly, her focus shining, and she begins to summon another minion - one of the more magical variety.
Bullets hit someone directly, but as they continue, Ritsuka is not unharmed. First, they miss. Then, they hit Elisa. Then, Ritsuka's armor. Some glance off, but at least one grazes her, drawing blood, with more coming. Sanctuary protects Ritsuka from dying... but the suffering of a thousand papercuts is a delight for demonborn.
Elisa, at least, is happy to surrender, hands up, lip trembling as her fear feeds right into Ritsuka. One gets the sense that she's not a fervent believer, though it's obvious why she remains. Hands up, she whimpers, "O-of... of course...." And then, of course, is shot.
Bullets aim for them both, impacting Elisa, to her evident agony. Vera flinches as her minions make their own decisions, but follows through herself. "Oh, Instofar, Razer of Suns, send your servant a servant to make offerings of pain!" She calls this out loudly, her focus shining, and she begins to summon another minion - one of the more magical variety.
Bullets hit someone directly, but as they continue, Ritsuka is not unharmed. First, they miss. Then, they hit Elisa. Then, Ritsuka's armor. Some glance off, but at least one grazes her, drawing blood, with more coming. Sanctuary protects Ritsuka from dying... but the suffering of a thousand papercuts is a delight for demonborn.
Elisa, at least, is happy to surrender, hands up, lip trembling as her fear feeds right into Ritsuka. One gets the sense that she's not a fervent believer, though it's obvious why she remains. Hands up, she whimpers, "O-of... of course...." And then, of course, is shot.
Bullets aim for them both, impacting Elisa, to her evident agony. Vera flinches as her minions make their own decisions, but follows through herself. "Oh, Instofar, Razer of Suns, send your servant a servant to make offerings of pain!" She calls this out loudly, her focus shining, and she begins to summon another minion - one of the more magical variety.
Bullets hit Elisa directly, but as they continue, Ritsuka is not unharmed. First, they miss. Then, they hit Elisa. Then, Ritsuka's armor. Some glance off, but at least one grazes her, drawing blood, with more coming. Sanctuary protects Ritsuka from dying... but the suffering of a thousand papercuts is a delight for demonborn.
Ritsuka tries to push Elisa down to the ground, to get her out of the bullets, to save her, as much as one may, and the moment that shots ring out, there is, of course, ones that then fire to those assailing her. To a part, this is as far as diplomacy will go, there is now none left for more, and she rushes forward, with blade in hand as much as Fate grants her its protection, but this is not for forever either. Today, she was in a place where sanctuary will save her life from them, though not from the demon itself should he appear, and by all means, it had been better to apply force immediately, perhaps to ambush and try to make for non lethal wounds, but then, they would still be armed and maybe, just maybe, if a single life can be saved...
To her own dismay, the papercuts will most certainly heal quickly, cuts like these don't take more than half a minute, but she aims to move into the melee, for with all of it, it is still the safest place that she could be at. If her own blade comes to bear, they will be lethal to the minion, but seek to slide across the wrists, and even to remove whole hands for the demonborn that will not cease. Perhaps it was just fate for the divine to ever be in fight with the demonic, but this is not a question she could answer.
Normally, such small, minor wounds would take minutes, even a quarter of an hour to heal. But, as the light of the sun glows from Ritsuka's skin, the glancing blows glance even less, adding to her words - they cannot truly hurt her. Elisa, fortunately, is saved by Ritsuka's actions... and everything else is done in a matter of seconds. Vera dives, when Mike and Erika are taken over completely. Rather than using mancy to preserve her minion, Very finds herself crawling for Elisa, unaware that the battle will be over all too soon. For, one of those bullets grazes one of the ritualists in the circle, ruining their concentration... blood falls on the circle, breaking it... and the ritual implodes.
The ritual was hours yet from completion, and it was this that saves the rest of them. There's a pull - a yank - and the ritualists are gone, drawn in. There's a rush of wind, sucking in leaves, brush - and even a rabbit, poor thing. Clouds are drained from the sky itself, a circular break in the clouds. Supplies and bodies go in... and it's just a moment, and they're gone.
There's a silence, a pause, as realization sets in, at the horror... no pleasure in pain here, lives lost just gone, in a second. One is saved, of course... but Haven is a place that brings heroes grief. And yet... someone is pleased. There's no words, this time... but the feeling is there in the slow return of rain drops, as the mist fades into the scene, pulling a metaphor curtain on the scene almost literally. There's cries of surprise, confusion, cursing... but for Ritsuka, there's a path back. And the gratitude of the mists, at her side.
Ritsuka places a hand over her heart; a comfort that is truly only her own and she holds the blade out as the renewed storm pours and begins to wash the blood from where it has drawn it. Of course, she had spoken with many other people about the Order and her own removal, but once more, had this not been possible to be much more... clean, with less casualties, had it all been done with an open combat from the start? To aim for the legs, to risk bleeding out, had it saved more lives than this? Mayhaps sometimes, ruthlessness is a mercy upon everyone, but there is little time for such a moral dilemma and question, not now. One was still shot, and needs treatment. On the red fabric of her own armor, she dries the blade and goes on to sheath it, and then it is basic medical supplies for Elisa. And when the other three joins them, and should Vera still be there, she tells "Lucienne, I think she should be put to trial, you can handle it right? I will provide her first aid and then we can leave along the mist- though maybe we should-" Ah she looks over to see if the body of the wolf yet remains, and if it must find burial under the mist.
The mist cuts off much of Ritsuka's sight, and others', but for the path away. Still, space is made where she seeks to assist, allowing her to perform fields triage with clear vision for it. Vera holds her lover's hand, a multitude of emotions passing through her face as she processes the sudden turn of the tables. Though, as Ritsuka speaks, making her decision, Vera is able to make hers. There's no way for her to haul Elisa up to carry her while surrounded, so there's a kiss to Elisa's hand - and then shadows take someone away, leaving her weakness in Ritsuka's hands.
The mist cuts off much of Ritsuka's sight, and others', but for the path away. Still, space is made where she seeks to assist, allowing her to perform fields triage with clear vision for it. Vera holds her lover's hand, a multitude of emotions passing through her face as she processes the sudden turn of the tables. Though, as Ritsuka speaks, making her decision, Vera is able to make hers. There's no way for her to haul Elisa up to carry her while surrounded, so there's a kiss to Elisa's hand - and then shadows take Vera away, leaving her weakness in Ritsuka's hands.
"... You should have stayed, could have asked," Ritsuka says, her eyes briefly close and shaking her head, she cradles Elisa into her own arms and carries her along. Fortunately, however small she is, she is actually quite strong. The treatment should treat her well, and if needed, she can make a temporary place at her own home, and perhaps turn her to the cult. But this is not for today, not for now, and likely not for tomorrow either, as she now begins to tread along the mist, followed by her companions.
The confrontation in the clearing, under the cloak of nature and night, escalates rapidly from a standoff to a chaotic melee. Despite offers of mercy and paths to surrender, the cultists, led by Vera, choose aggression, drawing Ritsuka and her allies into combat. The battle is both physical and ideological, with Ritsuka striving to protect not just the physical realm but also the sanctity of Vaelys' mourning. Bloodshed and mystic summoning attempts mar the clearing until an unintended disruption of the ritual circle consumes it in a catastrophic implosion, sparing only those marked by mercy and swift action. In the aftermath, the mists part, leaving behind a scene of loss and a faint hope of redemption. Vera's desertion, leaving behind Elisa in Ritsuka's care, speaks volumes of the complex human and demonic relationships entangled in the affair. As the storm resumes its lament, Ritsuka, bearing the weight of the outcome, reflects on the choices made and the lives altered, with the resolve to face the consequences and the uncertainties of the morrow.
(Ritsuka's odd encounter(SRAsh):SRAsh)
[Tue Nov 12 2024]
In an Entrance Hall and Kitchen
The entrance to the shrine home is simple and elegant. The entrance is made up out of a smooth stone floor at the genkan, the traditional Japanese entryway. A small, neatly arranged rack holds different pairs of women oriented shoes, while a low wooden bench offers a place to sit and remove footwear before stepping up onto the polished wooden floors of the main home. Above, an overhead beam made from dark cedar wood bears hand-carved motifs of swirling clouds and sacred cranes, symbols of longevity and protection.
To the side, the kitchen area appears to be both functional and minimalist. A simple wooden counter, free of clutter, holds carefully arranged utensils and a ceramic tea set. A black iron kettle sits atop a traditional stove. Small shelves on the wall display earthenware jars containing rice, miso, and other essentials, each jar decorated with intricate calligraphy.
It is afternoon, about 48F(8C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It's raining outside.
(Your target discovers a member of The Destined Host conducting a dark ritual in the graveyard at midnight. The ritual seems to be aimed at summoning a powerful demon into the world. The character has to disrupt the ritual and fend off the cultist and any supernatural forces they've already summoned, all while avoiding becoming a sacrifice themselves. They must survive long enough for their allies to arrive and help them put an end to the dark ritual.)
Ritsuka seems to really just be having an idle day. She listens as the storm wails at its worst outside. It's been very therapeutic to her, in truth. And today it is that, plus a little bit of browsing on her phone, but even that appears to be very limited for some reason. Little of it draws to her actual interests, but for a single day, she doesn't mind. For one day, today, because the rain still is still there, and she listens. And remembers. As it was meant to be, and so be it.
The afternoon is cool, and the rain outside is cooler. Threatening sleet, flirting with frost, as the clouds embody Vaelys' tears, once more. The mourning returns, once again, as a flicker of a memory. The grief of the mists. Once upon a time, there was a powerful woman... but she became cursed. Trapped in the form of a snow leopard of monstrous size and power, she was still, as yet, too powerful for the people to handle. So, far into the depths on Gharrek, the frozen tundra of the Wilds, she was interred, still living, within a cavern on a mountain top. Even then, she was powerful, for she could call, and running would come every animal, every person, every living creature in hearing, and they would come to her with adoration, with obedience, and bow before her.
She ate each and every one of them.
For how long was she there? Years? No, decades? No, centuries... a lifetime, but for the Wilds, the lifetime of such a powerful being lasts so long that none remembered her birth but the mists. And so, she lived in this way, eating, but trapped, growing corpulent and mighty. Many came to her, to slay her, to challenge her, to end her reign - and none survived... until, one day.
On this day, the culmination of one plan was all it took. One clever plan, by one hungry, by one intelligent, fierce, by one other snow leopard with the knowledge and resources of two worlds, with the money to buy any research, ingredients, and tools that she desired. She called her allies - her beloved and her minion, her comrade, her rival, and even an enemy, under truce. Together, they went to the mountain with... a goat. A goat named Oscar, whom the minion was fond of, whose presence had brought chaos in the lives of several... but, in this moment... he was but a vessel for a powerful potion
The powerful creature called for her meal, and the goat went with them, eaten in an instant. Then came her hunters... there was a battle, but drugged, and beaten by the hammer of a godling, she did not last long. Still living, however, there was at least one way to skin this cat... and so she was. The being finally passed... and her ghost, and her curse, was held in the pelt. A pelt that was then cleansed by the smaller, living snow leopard, releasing said ghost... powerful, even in her death.
This spirit regained her memories, of the time before her curse, and remembered who she was... Vaelys, the Frostcaller. The Brumal Empress. The Lady of the Mists. And she wanted it back. She wanted who she was, who she was meant to be, back, to rule once more. But, long past her life... she needed help. And so, she did not desire vengeance upon those who had slain her - they had freedom. No, what she offered was a simple transaction. Power for Power. And so were the Heralds of Winter's Grasp born.
The snow leopard was her seer - the one who had engineered her release, and who now had the most powerful pact. For her own growth, and for the protection of all the world sealed in mist, this and the other, the Wild... she would bring Vaelys to power. Her mate, the godling whose self-forged hammer had brought the powerful empress to bow was the first of her Frostcallers. Last was the minion, in this day now the only Inheritor of her Will and story. But, these tears from the sky? These were for the wolf.
Powerful, deadly, he was a monster, no doubt. But, this wolf was hers. The mists parted for him, and followed in his wake, as he tore and shred through her enemies, all that stood in her way. Whatever pact he had with her was hidden, sacred... but it was no mere marriage of convenience. His heart was hers, and he protected hers. Until the moon would no longer shine on him, until the black of corruption reached his heart, until prophesies whispered, and silver found him. And so, she wept.
In those tears, she soothed the wounds of others. Her sorrow brought them strength, and her tears came with kindness, inspiration, and empowerment. The loss of one great being watered and fed others, until even the sound of rain brought peace, brought courage, and brought a clear path, cleansed and opened by the flow of water, for the likes of them to walk down.
Ritsuka knows this, but the raindrops tell her this story anyways, the rumbling of clouds, the whispering of wind, and the rising of mist singing her a tale. However... the very end comes with a request. "You, the tree watered by my tears, flowers blooming in pride and focus... I ask of you, one last time. They come for my mists, they come for his soul. Tonight, when the dark reaches its peak, at midnight... the ritual will finish. My mists will be stolen and twisted for their cause. The taint in his corpse will be drawn upon, and will feed this demon they wish to call. Before this can happen, while they plan to sully my gifts... I ask that you end this mockery of my grief, by destroying these monsters."
It is perhaps in that moment that Ritsuka does close her eyes. Oh how terribly she had wished to listen to the haunt that came with the storm. But more than the storm, she cannot have. Her phone slips from her fingers and just drops to the floor, and she listens. Listens... and remembers... remembers She of the mists. Oh even at this place, here in this kitchen, dedicated to another kami, the memories are still held dearly, close to the heart, cherished, and when the all too familiar voice touches upon her heart, she almost leans against it. But of course there wasn't anyone, and the lids of her eyes slowly begin to open. There is just this tiniest smile that forms over her lips. She had longed for it, more than so much else. No one that could really truly know, for no one else was there to have experienced it the way that she had. One of her hands draws up to her own cheek, where once, She had placed a tender kiss upon her cheek and gifted her, as a goodbye - and an unknowing birthday gift.
Her breathing is calm, and this once, it takes a few more seconds for her before she rises. I miss you. Thoughts she does not say, but thoughts that are known. And then the silent agreement, as she makes to stand and then bow, and then to turn through another door, and another yet again, to retrieve both blade and bow, and armor, too. She had killed with the blade, but all the pain that she had been pushed into recently had already stolen all the regret and guilt she bore. And more than that yet - if you need to fight a monster...
She suits herself into her own equipment, places the blade at her hip and picks up her phone again and she enters on to make a few calls. They are all friends, people she had come to know, people able to combat, more than that. For had she not already experienced? She alone may ever need to choose a more extreme option. This was Haven, and sanctuary protects. Mostly. It does not from those truly monsters, fleshformed to no longer be recognized by the spell. Though whether they would answer or not, did it matter? Of course not, for the breathe she breathes in through her nose feels fresh, it fills her lungs and she remembers. "Where do I need to go, Frostcaller-kami?" The first words she comes to choose to tell, tender, soft, gentle, sweet. She will be there for her and remember, as she, too, will -is- remembered.
"Follow my mists...," the rain murmurs, the voice fading surely now, and from underneath the kitchen door, the mists beckon. They will remain for a time, so long as it takes for Ritsuka to prepare, and then lead her on.
By this time, surely, the others will arrive. Mr. Yoshihisa arrives first... punctual. One might wonder if he was local, or if he had the power to Path... but, it didn't matter, he was there, carrying a briefcase. Ritsuka may recognize it as 'supplies', the sort that only Hanshin could provide, keeping her needs and company worth in mind when choosing what these entail. He offers a polite bow, following the ways that may remind Ritsuka of home. Lucienne arrives next, her hair flowing and fluttering behind her like brown ribbons on the wind, without evident supplies... she is the sort that either doesn't need any, or they will find their ways into her hands right when she needs them. Ms. Saito comes fully prepared, of course. For violence, for surveillance, for whatever the situation might need. She's likely the last to arrive due to her needs to prepare.
The trail leads into the forest, where no path lies on the ground. And yet, the mists borders the way, creating a corridor for Ritsuka to safely walk. No monsters bar her path, not a single creature approaches. Though the mists cannot grab or pull, they can control and block, whisper and lead, and so... Ritsuka is her hands, and she makes the path.
The path goes on for just long enough that one might wonder if taking a vehicle or horse would be better... until suddenly, it stops. No... it peters out. There's a fainter trail, small, quiet... perhaps, a message in itself. By this time, it would be very clear to Ritsuka that she is the only one seeing the mists... the others simply follow her lead.
The mist leads behind and around trees, and will lead, eventually, to a clearing, where the ritual is already underway. There's seven practitioners in a circle, and the rain from above seems to be drawn into it, a funnel of water, that drops into... nothingness. There's no pool, no vessel, the water just disappears. And so, too, does the mists, and a dark substance, coming from far beyond the trees.
There's more than ten others present. Some are resting, some are working on supplies, a few offer lazy security, confident in the obscurity of the location and wards - wards enough to remain hidden from most spellcasters... but not one who is essentially a goddess.
goes on to hide behind a tree and throughout the journey, she had really felt the want, need to talk about Her again. But the three already know, already listened a countless times to the words from her heart. Just the day before yesterday she was more prepared in the knowledge that she may have yet to stand alone, where once, she could have relied on the Order for help, and somehow, this small and little request, was still a gift all the same, for they all came and joined her. She wasn't alone. She didn't need to do this without help, for surely a blade would need to be drawn here, had she been entirely on her own.
"Hide here and have your ranged weaponry ready. I- it will put me at a disadvantage, but they deserve a chance to walk away. A single one, before it may yet turn or become violent." She smiles to them, they are her friends, after all, and others would be here, too, if they could.
It does draw a smile to her gaze, one that lasts only so long until she draws around, under her kimono to place the mask over her face. Maybe she should have made the markings blue? Maybe. Just maybe, in another form of honoring, but that thought is not why she is here. She touches over the hilt of her weapon, and its saya, the katana's sheath, and makes sure the blade is ready. Just in case. Her approach is most certainly not approved by all, Yuki hates it, it is a risk no one should take. Haranobu worries, he will say it is impractical, but he is the one that was supposed to care for her in the company, be her contact, the one to guide her, and it has only blossomed into this friendship, though in front of other people in the company, she still had to be his pupil. Lucienne, it is what she had always know of Ritsuka, it is no different today, the price of virtue is a heavy one, and one she, too, believes the Order has failed to uphold recently. It wasn't fair, but there was naught to be done.
There is a light breathe then as the kitsune masked maiden begins her step over in the open, slow, on steady steps, she herself like a mist slowly drawing by...
The marks on the men and women are clear to Ritsuka. a crimson hand holding a blackened, thorned crown. On their clothes, their focii, and even as part of the ritual circle itself. Though, if she'd seen them before, would her response be any different? It's not even one of the guards that spot her first - so lax is their attentions. It is one of the arcanists resting, getting up to use the bathroom - except, there is a lass in a kitsune mask standing before her.
She yelps, dropping her STP and fumbling for a weapon when she announces, "Intruder! It's a weirdo!" Says, of course, the cultist part of a group summoning demons in the woods, her hypocrisy over a mask wearer ridiculous. Others perk up, sans the seven performing, and the guards hurry over - all of them, even. One woman is woken up in particular, blinking as her assistant points to Ritsuka, and she waves him away, coming to her feet.
"Hey, back to your positions! Mike, Erica, on me!" She shouts orders, gaining her bearings clearly, and send majority of the guards back. "She may not be alone," she warns, making her way towards Ritsuka. On her way, she smacks the rude woman upside the back of her head, hissing, "You're a fucking Mancer, Elisa. Prepare to summon or cast, fool." Elsa murmurs something back, and she blinks, before pushing Elisa away. She might be more pissed now than she was woken up to an intruder.
Standing before Ritsuka at a safe distance - out of melee, for most supernaturals - and crosses her arms. She has a crystal hanging on her neck, engraved with the same symbol as the others... an obvious magic focus. She speaks to Ritsuka in a clear voice, asking, "You are intruding upon us. State your business, stranger."
Of course, there is a look given over them, if they carry the all too infamous red aura and of course their weaknesses, as she inherently does, all of it has become routine for situations like this, and goodness, the satisfaction that's running through her to simply appear upon them. Ritsuka's far more mischievous bloodline finds satisfaction in it and there is a thought, a brief wonder if shee could play with them, in some fashion, but that would a test that this does not offer the room for.
Her own posture is still, and she raises a single hand up to place over the mask where her lips hide behind. Words only follow when her hand has lowered to her side again, yet another silent just left to linger, for the only one that may find it to be uncomfortable is the other. Alas, with the rain, some of her blood had been just far too sated, and there is a brief half-glance up that then slowly returns to her opposition, and she cannot help it, and so she also takes just a moment to adjust the sleeve of her kimono. It looks deliberate, it draws attention, and when she is done, the singular word she plays with is "Stranger business!" And my, is that a far too sweet tone spilled sensual? It is.
Ritsuka will will find that it's a mixture. Red is here and there... Elisa is red. So is Mike, Erika, and the others guards. Some of those sleeping are red... others are not. And, of course, the leader and the ritualists... are not red. Someone, it seems, thought ahead. As for weaknesses... a few are mentally ill. Elisa *is* a weakness... and the leader has a weakness, a weakness for another... the other being Elisa. Such things are not always clear, but in this case... there's a bond between them, a red line from one pinky to another. A misty red string....
"Well, then," the leader smirks. "Stranger business is no business of mine, now is it?" She waves her hand, and Mike and Erica lower their weapons to Ritsuka, clearly about to shoot. And yet... supernatural, Ritsuka has time to respond... or for others to do so.
"Hmm-" Ritsuka makes "If you do that, I am going to have to hurt you, pets." She giggles, and the hand does drop to the hilt of her blade "You get just a single chance to stop before I'm going to hurt Elise over there- You do love her very much, don't you?" Some would call this a monstrous game, but her heart yearns all the same to not see anyone die. She was not the fastest, she was not like another friend, but in her rests blood that enables more, nurtured. "You shouldn't treat them as disposables." And then it's all in the move, as the dance between bloodlines takes another direction and the sun rises, and her step grows grow lighter and quicker, and fate holds her dearly. Her words are irritated, angry even. "Surrender and no one needs to be hurt, -She- of the mist demands this to end." Of course her target is Elisa, not to strike, but to take her, to treat as a human shield, to threaten, to force, to push, -to control-.
The woman pauses - and that's all it takes. She might have sacrificed them - her eyes narrowed, her jaw took a firm set to it, her fingers twitched as if to perform a hail mary, and her other fist tightened. The willingness to do what one must, for a cause. The knowledge that sacrifices, sometimes, must be made. The awareness of punishments far more terrifying than in this moment. But, in this moment? She hesitated.
Elisa squeaks, and in her shock - even to her practically human sense of smell, Ritsuka can smell the liquid fear. The leader turns around sharply, her head snapping... and in this moment, she is undone. The embarrassment in Elisa's blush, the fear on her face, the trembling lips... there's a mix, there. Pleasure flows through the leader, evident to see, as her smile oozes across her face, as she bites back an inappropriate sound... it seems like the group may let Ritsuka do as she likes, as chuckles, purrs of pleasure, and hungry delight shows on the group's faces. After all, her threats of terror only strengthen them.
But hesitation, then pleasure - a mistake. Backs are turned to Ritsuka's allies in the woods, opening the group to lethal - or nonlethal - force. There's no intent to desist in pulling the trigger, as guns lift back up from where they wavered. Elisa whispers, "Vera...," and another wave passes through the cultists, as the leader - Vera's face - contorts. Pleasure, pain... love, sacrifice... duty and desire, they prevent her from acting. someone someone Mike and Erica don't have the same trouble, and they decide on taking the 'safer' route - guns aimed down, for limbs, to shoot *through* Elisa, to prolong and increase suffering.
The woman pauses - and that's all it takes. She might have sacrificed them - her eyes narrowed, her jaw took a firm set to it, her fingers twitched as if to perform a hail mary, and her other fist tightened. The willingness to do what one must, for a cause. The knowledge that sacrifices, sometimes, must be made. The awareness of punishments far more terrifying than in this moment. But, in this moment? She hesitated.
Elisa squeaks, and in her shock - even to her practically human sense of smell, Ritsuka can smell the liquid fear. The leader turns around sharply, her head snapping... and in this moment, she is undone. The embarrassment in Elisa's blush, the fear on her face, the trembling lips... there's a mix, there. Pleasure flows through the leader, evident to see, as her smile oozes across her face, as she bites back an inappropriate sound... it seems like the group may let Ritsuka do as she likes, as chuckles, purrs of pleasure, and hungry delight shows on the group's faces. After all, her threats of terror only strengthen them.
But hesitation, then pleasure - a mistake. Backs are turned to Ritsuka's allies in the woods, opening the group to lethal - or nonlethal - force. There's no intent to desist in pulling the trigger, as guns lift back up from where they wavered. Elisa whispers, "Vera...," and another wave passes through the cultists, as the leader - Vera's face - contorts. Pleasure, pain... love, sacrifice... duty and desire, they prevent her from acting.
Mike and Erica don't have the same trouble, and they decide on taking the 'safer' route - guns aimed down, for limbs, to shoot *through* Elisa, to prolong and increase suffering.
And this once, Ritsuka feeds on the fear, because she feels less, and they don't know this, they don't, and that is enough. "That caliber is going to hurt her, me you cannot hurt. Sanctuary protects me, you, I can do with whatever I want, your leaders hadn't made sure you are sure to survive in a confrontation." Her voice is firmer now, the dance of two lines draw for the other to supersede one. "And I am a monster." So she says. "And you are beneath me." To one with her blood, surely, let alone the certainty that they cannot hurt her like she could them. Or her friends could them.
She of course knew that two of the three would almost certainly only rely on lethal applications to weapons, and Lucienne, as she is in her own affiliation, probably here with non lethal means. Someday this will need to be organized, but that does hasn't been today, and won't be tomorrow. Not yet.
She for her own does whisper to Elisa's ear, too. "If you surrender, dear, you can at least return to her when this is done. She will live, she is protected as I am. Don't waste it. The demon will do nothing good for this world, they will kill you at a simple convenience to them, they are horrible."
Elisa, at least, is happy to surrender, hands up, lip trembling as her fear feeds right into Ritsuka. One gets the sense that she's not a fervent believer, though it's obvious why she remains. Hands up, she whimpers, "O-of... of course...." And then, of course, is shot.
Bullets aim for them both, impacting someone, to her evident agony. Vera flinches as her minions make their own decisions, but follows through herself. "Oh, Instofar, Razer of Suns, send your servant a servant to make offerings of pain!" She calls this out loudly, her focus shining, and she begins to summon another minion - one of the more magical variety.
Bullets hit someone directly, but as they continue, Ritsuka is not unharmed. First, they miss. Then, they hit Elisa. Then, Ritsuka's armor. Some glance off, but at least one grazes her, drawing blood, with more coming. Sanctuary protects Ritsuka from dying... but the suffering of a thousand papercuts is a delight for demonborn.
Elisa, at least, is happy to surrender, hands up, lip trembling as her fear feeds right into Ritsuka. One gets the sense that she's not a fervent believer, though it's obvious why she remains. Hands up, she whimpers, "O-of... of course...." And then, of course, is shot.
Bullets aim for them both, impacting Elisa, to her evident agony. Vera flinches as her minions make their own decisions, but follows through herself. "Oh, Instofar, Razer of Suns, send your servant a servant to make offerings of pain!" She calls this out loudly, her focus shining, and she begins to summon another minion - one of the more magical variety.
Bullets hit someone directly, but as they continue, Ritsuka is not unharmed. First, they miss. Then, they hit Elisa. Then, Ritsuka's armor. Some glance off, but at least one grazes her, drawing blood, with more coming. Sanctuary protects Ritsuka from dying... but the suffering of a thousand papercuts is a delight for demonborn.
Elisa, at least, is happy to surrender, hands up, lip trembling as her fear feeds right into Ritsuka. One gets the sense that she's not a fervent believer, though it's obvious why she remains. Hands up, she whimpers, "O-of... of course...." And then, of course, is shot.
Bullets aim for them both, impacting Elisa, to her evident agony. Vera flinches as her minions make their own decisions, but follows through herself. "Oh, Instofar, Razer of Suns, send your servant a servant to make offerings of pain!" She calls this out loudly, her focus shining, and she begins to summon another minion - one of the more magical variety.
Bullets hit Elisa directly, but as they continue, Ritsuka is not unharmed. First, they miss. Then, they hit Elisa. Then, Ritsuka's armor. Some glance off, but at least one grazes her, drawing blood, with more coming. Sanctuary protects Ritsuka from dying... but the suffering of a thousand papercuts is a delight for demonborn.
Ritsuka tries to push Elisa down to the ground, to get her out of the bullets, to save her, as much as one may, and the moment that shots ring out, there is, of course, ones that then fire to those assailing her. To a part, this is as far as diplomacy will go, there is now none left for more, and she rushes forward, with blade in hand as much as Fate grants her its protection, but this is not for forever either. Today, she was in a place where sanctuary will save her life from them, though not from the demon itself should he appear, and by all means, it had been better to apply force immediately, perhaps to ambush and try to make for non lethal wounds, but then, they would still be armed and maybe, just maybe, if a single life can be saved...
To her own dismay, the papercuts will most certainly heal quickly, cuts like these don't take more than half a minute, but she aims to move into the melee, for with all of it, it is still the safest place that she could be at. If her own blade comes to bear, they will be lethal to the minion, but seek to slide across the wrists, and even to remove whole hands for the demonborn that will not cease. Perhaps it was just fate for the divine to ever be in fight with the demonic, but this is not a question she could answer.
Normally, such small, minor wounds would take minutes, even a quarter of an hour to heal. But, as the light of the sun glows from Ritsuka's skin, the glancing blows glance even less, adding to her words - they cannot truly hurt her. Elisa, fortunately, is saved by Ritsuka's actions... and everything else is done in a matter of seconds. Vera dives, when Mike and Erika are taken over completely. Rather than using mancy to preserve her minion, Very finds herself crawling for Elisa, unaware that the battle will be over all too soon. For, one of those bullets grazes one of the ritualists in the circle, ruining their concentration... blood falls on the circle, breaking it... and the ritual implodes.
The ritual was hours yet from completion, and it was this that saves the rest of them. There's a pull - a yank - and the ritualists are gone, drawn in. There's a rush of wind, sucking in leaves, brush - and even a rabbit, poor thing. Clouds are drained from the sky itself, a circular break in the clouds. Supplies and bodies go in... and it's just a moment, and they're gone.
There's a silence, a pause, as realization sets in, at the horror... no pleasure in pain here, lives lost just gone, in a second. One is saved, of course... but Haven is a place that brings heroes grief. And yet... someone is pleased. There's no words, this time... but the feeling is there in the slow return of rain drops, as the mist fades into the scene, pulling a metaphor curtain on the scene almost literally. There's cries of surprise, confusion, cursing... but for Ritsuka, there's a path back. And the gratitude of the mists, at her side.
Ritsuka places a hand over her heart; a comfort that is truly only her own and she holds the blade out as the renewed storm pours and begins to wash the blood from where it has drawn it. Of course, she had spoken with many other people about the Order and her own removal, but once more, had this not been possible to be much more... clean, with less casualties, had it all been done with an open combat from the start? To aim for the legs, to risk bleeding out, had it saved more lives than this? Mayhaps sometimes, ruthlessness is a mercy upon everyone, but there is little time for such a moral dilemma and question, not now. One was still shot, and needs treatment. On the red fabric of her own armor, she dries the blade and goes on to sheath it, and then it is basic medical supplies for Elisa. And when the other three joins them, and should Vera still be there, she tells "Lucienne, I think she should be put to trial, you can handle it right? I will provide her first aid and then we can leave along the mist- though maybe we should-" Ah she looks over to see if the body of the wolf yet remains, and if it must find burial under the mist.
The mist cuts off much of Ritsuka's sight, and others', but for the path away. Still, space is made where she seeks to assist, allowing her to perform fields triage with clear vision for it. Vera holds her lover's hand, a multitude of emotions passing through her face as she processes the sudden turn of the tables. Though, as Ritsuka speaks, making her decision, Vera is able to make hers. There's no way for her to haul Elisa up to carry her while surrounded, so there's a kiss to Elisa's hand - and then shadows take someone away, leaving her weakness in Ritsuka's hands.
The mist cuts off much of Ritsuka's sight, and others', but for the path away. Still, space is made where she seeks to assist, allowing her to perform fields triage with clear vision for it. Vera holds her lover's hand, a multitude of emotions passing through her face as she processes the sudden turn of the tables. Though, as Ritsuka speaks, making her decision, Vera is able to make hers. There's no way for her to haul Elisa up to carry her while surrounded, so there's a kiss to Elisa's hand - and then shadows take Vera away, leaving her weakness in Ritsuka's hands.
"... You should have stayed, could have asked," Ritsuka says, her eyes briefly close and shaking her head, she cradles Elisa into her own arms and carries her along. Fortunately, however small she is, she is actually quite strong. The treatment should treat her well, and if needed, she can make a temporary place at her own home, and perhaps turn her to the cult. But this is not for today, not for now, and likely not for tomorrow either, as she now begins to tread along the mist, followed by her companions.