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Ashs Ghost Banishing 240830
In the eerie atmosphere of the Arkwright Cemetery, amidst a sudden miasma of brimstone, Ash and their companions prepare for a supernatural confrontation. A dark mist materializes into fearsome shapes, promising a battle with demons. As Fayad hastily draws a protective circle, Ash, displaying a blend of fearlessness and resolve, engages directly with the spirits. Threats manifest rapidly; an armored warrior wrought from the smoke charges, only to be countered by the combined efforts of the group, including a notably protective Isaiah and a fiercely combative Jodie. The scene is chaotic, with each participant facing their own struggle against the encroaching darkness, yet there's a palpable unity among them, each playing a crucial role in the unfolding ritual.
The narrative crescendos as the spiritual assault intensifies, pushing each character to their limits. Fayad remains focused on the ritual, a beacon of stability amid the tumult, while Ash's dance becomes a pivotal act of defiance against the invading spirits. Their movements, imbued with ancient magic, create sigils and runes that weave a stronger protective barrier with every step. In the face of relentless attacks from smoke-formed monstrosities, the group's resilience is tested. Isaiah and Jodie, through valor and physical prowess, fend off the spectral assailants, allowing Ash to complete their dance. In a climactic moment, Fayad ignites the metaphysical fuse with a snap of his fingers, culminating in the banishment of the demonic entities. The smoke and malice that once permeated the air dissipate, leaving behind a palpable sense of triumph and relief among the weary but victorious companions.
(Ash's ghost banishing)
[Thu Aug 29 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is afternoon, about 98F(36C) degrees,
There is the sudden smell of brimstone that fills the area, and along with a rising, black mist: smoke, coiling along the surface of the graveyard. It seems to form strange whorls and shapes, and as they draw close to %n they begin to look more and more like creatures -- horned creatures, with red eyes full of menace.
Ash says "Demons again, hmm?"
Fayad busies himself with a piece of chalk from the pocket of his pants, glancing at the headstone. "Salte," he murmurs to himself, with a bit of surprise. He begins to clear away some of the grass, or at least to draw a rudimentary circle with his accoutrements, preparing for the exorcism. "The do-nothing Order," he sighs. "Mia, stay close. Remember, they can't hurt you, but they CAN knock my focus off, and I need that to burn away their ectoplasmic anchors. They're taking this form to startle you."
Out of the smoke charges an armed and armored warrior, spun out of black mist. He is dressed head to toe in archaic plate armor, wielding some huge, two-handed sword as black as his armor. With a roar, he rushes at Ash, swinging the sword in some attempt to cut off their head.
Euphemia nods simply, stepping between Fayad and the spirits... drawing her knife with a flourish. Spinning the hilt to rest within the palm of her hand... her sky-blue stare seems to sharpen... fixating upon the encroaching spirits with frigid intensity.
"Ah... The Old Kin," Isaiah murrs as those red eyes find Ash in his arms, a combination of amusement and sorrow spreading across his heavily freckled face. His grip on his partner loosens, allowing them to move freely as he wheels to face that hostile knight in hellish armor. A single scarred hand lifts, engulfed in partial flame as it reaches towards the blade of the weapon. The swing for Ash's throat turns into swirling black mist upon contact, floating past in harmless wisps of darkness.
Ash extricates themself from their boyfriend, and walks forward confidently. As they do, they summon little balls of ghostly fire, will o' wips, that bob and glow around them. They hold the quartz prism in both hands, and hold it up into the air. They close their eyes, not even flinching as the demon comes for them - though they recognize that the pain is imminent. This is why they have support. This is why they have Isaiah. The will o' wisps gather to the quartz crystal, slowly infusing it with brighter and brighter light.
"Sometime's even Saltes have to come up for air." Jodie says belatedly. She uncrosses her arms when the demons appear and she rushes for the large plate armor wearing creature in an attempt to intercept and punch right through it before it can hit Ash. Of course, there is nothing solid to connect with and all her fist manages to do is make the smoke temporarily dissipate, to later reform into something else.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Ash and everyone with them are struck with a sudden fear. It's cold and awful, sinking into their heart to make the world seem impossible and alone.
Fayad's movements are deliberate and focused, a striking contrast to the chaos unfolding around him. As Jodie's punch disrupts the smoke, Fayad's eyes narrow. He mutters an incantation under his breath, amplifying the circle hes drawn with quick, practiced strokes of chalk.
He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial of iridescent liquid. Without hesitation, he sprinkles it in a careful pattern around the circles edge, the liquid glistening with an almost otherworldly shimmer as it touches the ground. The scent of brimstone mixes with the fresh, sharp tang of the potion, creating an aromatic clash that seems to momentarily halt the swirling black mist.@line
Fayad keeps a watchful eye on the combatants, his face set in grim determination. He raises his gauntletted hand and begins to chant in a low, rhythmic tone, the talontips of his massive claw tearing into the air as they pluck at arcane strands. The ghostly fire from Ash's quartz prism intensifies thanks to Fayad's pyromantic bolstering, casting a warm, purifying light that pushes back the encroaching darkness.@ Fayad's chant grows louder, his voice resonating with an authority that seems to echo through the graveyard, one he usually lacks entirely - it seems this is a situation he actually has confidence in. The mist quivers and shudders in response.
"Fuck. Fuck fuck. I hate ghost." Jodie complains as she puts a hand to her head as if pained by something. Her face has twisted up with anger, fear and something else unpleasant and it also shows in her voice.
It seems Jodie and Isaiah are making up a dream team of a dynamic duo so far as 'physical' assaults go. The redheaded man is quick to slice through the oncoming attacks, and the brown-haired woman moves swiftly to tear apart the one violently charging. Isaiah seems to have a rather protective aura about him as he circles Ash, moreso than simply for the sake of this banishment. He lingers close, always, head on a swivel, until he freezes rather suddenly, gooseflesh rising over his tawny, freckled skin. He starts to hyperventilate as his eyes dart around in response, then close slowly as he tries to calm himself through a bit of internal meditation.
Fayad comments to Jodie, "Do you have anything except your hands?", his free arm gesticulating towards Jodie as his clawed gauntlet continues to twitch, held perpendicular from his body in mid-air.
Ash allows all of the little balls of faery fire to infuse the crystal before carefully letting go of it, where it hangs in the air, untouched. They open their eyes again, confirming that it won't drop on their head - and then doubting, flinching back as fear overtakes them. They're suddenly more aware of the spirits than they were minutes ago, and even seem to be afraid of Fayad, moving away from him. But they stop, freezing, once their eyes land on Isaiah. The fear passes though them, and out. They stand up, firm, and return to the prism. Standing beneath it, they press their hands together, raising it up until it touches the prism - which then bathes them in focused light. Their body glows for a few seconds, pushing away at the shadows trying to twist their mind, and Isaiah's, along with everyone else... for a moment. The light begins to coalesce upon them, moving swiftly until it concentrates on just their fingers and toes.
"No. I mean, not when it comes to this sort of shit." Jodie tells Fayad with a scowl on her face, "Wolves don't tend to like magic of any kind. Especially when it's dark like this."
A twisted figure forms out of infernal smoke, shaped like a terrible canine shape. It's a hellhound, leaping towards Ash with an awful snarl. When its mouth closes on %n, it has some phantom force, sending a vision of suffering in hellfire.
Fayad says "Yeah, well, that's rough. I could put an edge on your knife or whatever so you could help tear at their anch-Allah, fuck!"
Fayad flinches at the apperance of the hellhound, even though it isn't directed at him.
Isaiah's reaction to the hellhound is a smile- after all, he is one, too. The fear gripping him slows his reaction time, but while the attack strikes Ash, the damage is minimalized as that same fiery freckled hand reaches out, caressing down the Hell beast's spine, soothing its raised hackles. "Go home," he murmurs quietly, and then watches as it collapses apart, separating into base elements as it evaporates into nothingness.
Euphemia seems much more content to hang back as the others charge forth... her eyes flicking from the spiritual figures manifested before them to the ground below. She seems to be expecting something, yet it never comes. She glanced back towards Fayad, snapping: "Stay focused. Don't worry about them. block them out -- Trust me to protect you." She whips her head back towards the encroaching figures, pulling the bow from her back... and drawing an arrow with a deep and heavy sigh.
Ash finally begins their promised dance, in earnest. They start with their fingers, making complex geometrical shapes, their wrists joining the dance, then their elbows and shoulders. They draw arcane sigils with these movements, and the light trails after them, creating floating runes of light. Not stopping there, the movement moves through their torso, their waist, their hips, as their whole body going into the ritual performance. Then, at last their feet. They begin to step, bare feet on the chilled gravedirt, and they form trails of light with their feet. They're able to talk during this step, and starts to explain, "Disrupting their physical forms weakens their ties to - hey, fuck *off*, I already have a hellhound." Fortunately, with Jay at their side, it actually obeys.
Fayad continues Ash's explanation with a soft, "Weakens their ties to the material, forcing them back into the Nightmare where they belong. So you have to either time it for when they try to become physical to hurt you, or have a weapon that's near enough the veil that it'll hurt them either way. Magic, essentially."
There is a look above -- and then, from an overarching tree, Ash and their companions can see a black spider made of infernal smoke. It's huge, with a bloated belly, and then spun spider strands of black mist descend to wrap Ash into some awful cocoon.
Euphemia nods in response to Fayad's explanation, Her eyes momentarily closing as she recenters herself in preparation for her shot. A deep inhale of breath... then a steady exhale. She waits for a new figure to manifest... this hulking, arachnid abomination that moves to entrap Ash. Euphemia's bow flicks towards the spirit with aswift, practiced patience... before firing off three shots towards its head, and abdomen.
Ash continues, saying, "What I'm saying is that she doesn't need magic - that's what we're for. Everything she does makes it harder for them, and easier for us." They move as they bicker, or banter, perhaps softly correct, the steps their legs takes making supportive magical frameworks for the sigils they make with their fingers. They don't worry about how some sigils are unfinished due to the inertia of their movements as they dance the circle - it's a circle, they will come back to it... so long as some giant fucking demon smoke spider doesn't wrap them up in a nightmarish cocoon. This is how you *get* arachnaphobia, in Haven. Their breath catches, and they start to freeze up - until they're reminded that they're not alone, the spider being slayed by Euphemia. They nod their appreciation for her, and continue.
"/Fire/," Isaiah reminds the graveyard itself, watching as that spider silk descends from high above. He scoffs, right hand still ablaze, and as he caresses a finger down the front of Ash's chest, it lights aflame those shadow-black wisps of thread, burning them away as the touch slowly drifts down. There's an amused smirk on his face as his blue eyes find Ash's hazel, and he leans in close to press a tender, adoring kiss against their mouth. Smooch stolen, he returns to the task at hand with a renewed preparedness.
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Ash and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
Jodie was in some sort of daze for quite some time. Not that she was all that useful even when she was mentally present. For the last sprint she does what she can to move with strength and speed and intercept smoke ghost where possible. When the whispers start she wrinkles her nose and tries to shake her head clear like a dog who's been smacked in the head, "Fuck off."
Isaiah's eyes drift closed as that wind blows through, his mind again distracted from his task as his darkest desires take hold of him, perhaps imagining every detail in his mind. A wicked, primal smile crosses his lips as he mentally indulges, but ultimately he again realizes that he is having his thoughts warped, and another session of quiet meditation ensues as he tries, oh how he tries, to bring his thoughts to the present issue. This one is harder for him, clearly, because his face is twisting up in frustration and angst for the longest of times.
Euphemia swiftly steps back to loom over Fayad from behind, mirroring a defensive stance she had just taken earlier that morning in order to cover him whilst keeping the hunched figure of the wizard in her sights. She draws back her bow, prepared to fire another volley of arrows... before the voice seems to waft wide across the headstones of the graveyard beyond, bringing with it promises of desire and indulgence. A slight flush of crimson blossoms across her cheeks... uncertain whether it was anger or embarrassment... as she raises a hand to clutch at her temple, snarling at the disembodied voice. "...Gonthorian already tried this shit with me. FUCK OFF." She focuses, remaining stationary in preparation to protect the man conducting the banishment ritual itself.
Ash manages to not escape the kiss with their dance as they begin to move faster. Despite their moments of hesitation, their speed risesg as they complete their circle, then start on the second ring. Their movements become more advanced, testing the flexibility of their legs at the hips, and even the knees, along with the ankle. Their fingers continue their somatic, geometric movements, and there's influences of Egyptian inspired dance mixes with Indian style dance, with tutting instead of mudras, feet positioned just so. As they move, though, this very precise method of dance suffers a bit as they input sensuality into it. Though they normally excel at this particularly ghostly challenge - they're not normally doing it with Isaiah with them, the only depraved, decadent desire that they foster. They smirk at him, getting sloppy with their runes and sigils as they focus more on teasing and tantalizing.
Fayad grimaces, finishing the circle as he stands, but his eyes close too, the man likewise affected by the visions. He shifts his stance to get more comfortable as he's trapped inside his own head for a full two minutes or so, neglecting to finish his exorcism rite - having deployed the metaphysical equivalent of gunpowder around each spectral emanation, all that's left is to light the fuse.
A trio of horned smoke-monsters advance out of the mist. They have twisted weapons formed of smoke, and they descend on Ash, howling in an incomrephensible, devilish tongue.
Jodie seems to welcome the distraction of the horned smoke monsters so she can get out of her own head and charge one of them down, fist flying with anger in her eyes
Ash breaks free eventually - especially after hearing the name 'Gonthorian'. They snap to attention as they complete they second circle - only to have to do it again. They flow through the same steps, at the same speed, erasing what came before to draw anew. When the demons come forth with twisted weapons, they seem almost relieved. Some things are just easier to handle. The second circle completes better this time, the light in the circle growing stronger.
watches the gathered battlefield with caution sparkling beneath her perceptive gaze... her grip tightening around her bow as the next spiritual mass begins to manifest. Before the figures are even fully formed... the arrows have already been sent flying... providing airborne support to those doing the real damage on the frontlines. Euphemia' attention seems better spent on ensuring Fayad remains untouched... Her body tensed in preparation to intercept any wayward blows that may try to interrupt the enchantments he channels into the earth.
"This is easier.." Isaiah mutters under his breath as those horned devils move in hot and fast, clearly preferring the physical aspects to this than the mental. Again he starts to circle around Ash, protecting them with sure-footed movements that send fire-laden slashes of his hand through the various weapons of pure smoke, He cuts through them like a hot knife through butter, glacial eyes focused and intense. "Fighting is easier. I can do this part," he tells himself, embodying his inner flame with only a single hand, as though that were as much arcane power he could manifest at his current level of proficiency.
Ash begins the third circle with determination, trying to focus, even as the demonic spirits try to assault them. If they are given pain, they accept it. If they are blessed with protection, they take it. All that matters now is for them to finish the dance. Their movements grow in complexity, needing to dip and duck, twisting and leaping, spinning and twirling with growing exertion. Sweat is beginning to soak their white shirt, but they don't stop, bending themself into the exact angles that they need to finish the last ring of arcane sigils and runes.
Fayad reaches up and then snaps his fingers with his clawed gauntlet, the metallic clang causing a sudden spectal conflagration.
The smell of smoke seems to peak, and then, with a rush of magical power, it's gone. The smoke monsters in the cemetery disappear, banished -- fading away as wisps of mist in the air around $n.
The narrative crescendos as the spiritual assault intensifies, pushing each character to their limits. Fayad remains focused on the ritual, a beacon of stability amid the tumult, while Ash's dance becomes a pivotal act of defiance against the invading spirits. Their movements, imbued with ancient magic, create sigils and runes that weave a stronger protective barrier with every step. In the face of relentless attacks from smoke-formed monstrosities, the group's resilience is tested. Isaiah and Jodie, through valor and physical prowess, fend off the spectral assailants, allowing Ash to complete their dance. In a climactic moment, Fayad ignites the metaphysical fuse with a snap of his fingers, culminating in the banishment of the demonic entities. The smoke and malice that once permeated the air dissipate, leaving behind a palpable sense of triumph and relief among the weary but victorious companions.
(Ash's ghost banishing)
[Thu Aug 29 2024]
On the Sprawling Hillside of Arkwright Cemetery
It is afternoon, about 98F(36C) degrees,
There is the sudden smell of brimstone that fills the area, and along with a rising, black mist: smoke, coiling along the surface of the graveyard. It seems to form strange whorls and shapes, and as they draw close to %n they begin to look more and more like creatures -- horned creatures, with red eyes full of menace.
Ash says "Demons again, hmm?"
Fayad busies himself with a piece of chalk from the pocket of his pants, glancing at the headstone. "Salte," he murmurs to himself, with a bit of surprise. He begins to clear away some of the grass, or at least to draw a rudimentary circle with his accoutrements, preparing for the exorcism. "The do-nothing Order," he sighs. "Mia, stay close. Remember, they can't hurt you, but they CAN knock my focus off, and I need that to burn away their ectoplasmic anchors. They're taking this form to startle you."
Out of the smoke charges an armed and armored warrior, spun out of black mist. He is dressed head to toe in archaic plate armor, wielding some huge, two-handed sword as black as his armor. With a roar, he rushes at Ash, swinging the sword in some attempt to cut off their head.
Euphemia nods simply, stepping between Fayad and the spirits... drawing her knife with a flourish. Spinning the hilt to rest within the palm of her hand... her sky-blue stare seems to sharpen... fixating upon the encroaching spirits with frigid intensity.
"Ah... The Old Kin," Isaiah murrs as those red eyes find Ash in his arms, a combination of amusement and sorrow spreading across his heavily freckled face. His grip on his partner loosens, allowing them to move freely as he wheels to face that hostile knight in hellish armor. A single scarred hand lifts, engulfed in partial flame as it reaches towards the blade of the weapon. The swing for Ash's throat turns into swirling black mist upon contact, floating past in harmless wisps of darkness.
Ash extricates themself from their boyfriend, and walks forward confidently. As they do, they summon little balls of ghostly fire, will o' wips, that bob and glow around them. They hold the quartz prism in both hands, and hold it up into the air. They close their eyes, not even flinching as the demon comes for them - though they recognize that the pain is imminent. This is why they have support. This is why they have Isaiah. The will o' wisps gather to the quartz crystal, slowly infusing it with brighter and brighter light.
"Sometime's even Saltes have to come up for air." Jodie says belatedly. She uncrosses her arms when the demons appear and she rushes for the large plate armor wearing creature in an attempt to intercept and punch right through it before it can hit Ash. Of course, there is nothing solid to connect with and all her fist manages to do is make the smoke temporarily dissipate, to later reform into something else.
As the dark mists roil in the cemetery, Ash and everyone with them are struck with a sudden fear. It's cold and awful, sinking into their heart to make the world seem impossible and alone.
Fayad's movements are deliberate and focused, a striking contrast to the chaos unfolding around him. As Jodie's punch disrupts the smoke, Fayad's eyes narrow. He mutters an incantation under his breath, amplifying the circle hes drawn with quick, practiced strokes of chalk.
He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial of iridescent liquid. Without hesitation, he sprinkles it in a careful pattern around the circles edge, the liquid glistening with an almost otherworldly shimmer as it touches the ground. The scent of brimstone mixes with the fresh, sharp tang of the potion, creating an aromatic clash that seems to momentarily halt the swirling black mist.@line
Fayad keeps a watchful eye on the combatants, his face set in grim determination. He raises his gauntletted hand and begins to chant in a low, rhythmic tone, the talontips of his massive claw tearing into the air as they pluck at arcane strands. The ghostly fire from Ash's quartz prism intensifies thanks to Fayad's pyromantic bolstering, casting a warm, purifying light that pushes back the encroaching darkness.@ Fayad's chant grows louder, his voice resonating with an authority that seems to echo through the graveyard, one he usually lacks entirely - it seems this is a situation he actually has confidence in. The mist quivers and shudders in response.
"Fuck. Fuck fuck. I hate ghost." Jodie complains as she puts a hand to her head as if pained by something. Her face has twisted up with anger, fear and something else unpleasant and it also shows in her voice.
It seems Jodie and Isaiah are making up a dream team of a dynamic duo so far as 'physical' assaults go. The redheaded man is quick to slice through the oncoming attacks, and the brown-haired woman moves swiftly to tear apart the one violently charging. Isaiah seems to have a rather protective aura about him as he circles Ash, moreso than simply for the sake of this banishment. He lingers close, always, head on a swivel, until he freezes rather suddenly, gooseflesh rising over his tawny, freckled skin. He starts to hyperventilate as his eyes dart around in response, then close slowly as he tries to calm himself through a bit of internal meditation.
Fayad comments to Jodie, "Do you have anything except your hands?", his free arm gesticulating towards Jodie as his clawed gauntlet continues to twitch, held perpendicular from his body in mid-air.
Ash allows all of the little balls of faery fire to infuse the crystal before carefully letting go of it, where it hangs in the air, untouched. They open their eyes again, confirming that it won't drop on their head - and then doubting, flinching back as fear overtakes them. They're suddenly more aware of the spirits than they were minutes ago, and even seem to be afraid of Fayad, moving away from him. But they stop, freezing, once their eyes land on Isaiah. The fear passes though them, and out. They stand up, firm, and return to the prism. Standing beneath it, they press their hands together, raising it up until it touches the prism - which then bathes them in focused light. Their body glows for a few seconds, pushing away at the shadows trying to twist their mind, and Isaiah's, along with everyone else... for a moment. The light begins to coalesce upon them, moving swiftly until it concentrates on just their fingers and toes.
"No. I mean, not when it comes to this sort of shit." Jodie tells Fayad with a scowl on her face, "Wolves don't tend to like magic of any kind. Especially when it's dark like this."
A twisted figure forms out of infernal smoke, shaped like a terrible canine shape. It's a hellhound, leaping towards Ash with an awful snarl. When its mouth closes on %n, it has some phantom force, sending a vision of suffering in hellfire.
Fayad says "Yeah, well, that's rough. I could put an edge on your knife or whatever so you could help tear at their anch-Allah, fuck!"
Fayad flinches at the apperance of the hellhound, even though it isn't directed at him.
Isaiah's reaction to the hellhound is a smile- after all, he is one, too. The fear gripping him slows his reaction time, but while the attack strikes Ash, the damage is minimalized as that same fiery freckled hand reaches out, caressing down the Hell beast's spine, soothing its raised hackles. "Go home," he murmurs quietly, and then watches as it collapses apart, separating into base elements as it evaporates into nothingness.
Euphemia seems much more content to hang back as the others charge forth... her eyes flicking from the spiritual figures manifested before them to the ground below. She seems to be expecting something, yet it never comes. She glanced back towards Fayad, snapping: "Stay focused. Don't worry about them. block them out -- Trust me to protect you." She whips her head back towards the encroaching figures, pulling the bow from her back... and drawing an arrow with a deep and heavy sigh.
Ash finally begins their promised dance, in earnest. They start with their fingers, making complex geometrical shapes, their wrists joining the dance, then their elbows and shoulders. They draw arcane sigils with these movements, and the light trails after them, creating floating runes of light. Not stopping there, the movement moves through their torso, their waist, their hips, as their whole body going into the ritual performance. Then, at last their feet. They begin to step, bare feet on the chilled gravedirt, and they form trails of light with their feet. They're able to talk during this step, and starts to explain, "Disrupting their physical forms weakens their ties to - hey, fuck *off*, I already have a hellhound." Fortunately, with Jay at their side, it actually obeys.
Fayad continues Ash's explanation with a soft, "Weakens their ties to the material, forcing them back into the Nightmare where they belong. So you have to either time it for when they try to become physical to hurt you, or have a weapon that's near enough the veil that it'll hurt them either way. Magic, essentially."
There is a look above -- and then, from an overarching tree, Ash and their companions can see a black spider made of infernal smoke. It's huge, with a bloated belly, and then spun spider strands of black mist descend to wrap Ash into some awful cocoon.
Euphemia nods in response to Fayad's explanation, Her eyes momentarily closing as she recenters herself in preparation for her shot. A deep inhale of breath... then a steady exhale. She waits for a new figure to manifest... this hulking, arachnid abomination that moves to entrap Ash. Euphemia's bow flicks towards the spirit with aswift, practiced patience... before firing off three shots towards its head, and abdomen.
Ash continues, saying, "What I'm saying is that she doesn't need magic - that's what we're for. Everything she does makes it harder for them, and easier for us." They move as they bicker, or banter, perhaps softly correct, the steps their legs takes making supportive magical frameworks for the sigils they make with their fingers. They don't worry about how some sigils are unfinished due to the inertia of their movements as they dance the circle - it's a circle, they will come back to it... so long as some giant fucking demon smoke spider doesn't wrap them up in a nightmarish cocoon. This is how you *get* arachnaphobia, in Haven. Their breath catches, and they start to freeze up - until they're reminded that they're not alone, the spider being slayed by Euphemia. They nod their appreciation for her, and continue.
"/Fire/," Isaiah reminds the graveyard itself, watching as that spider silk descends from high above. He scoffs, right hand still ablaze, and as he caresses a finger down the front of Ash's chest, it lights aflame those shadow-black wisps of thread, burning them away as the touch slowly drifts down. There's an amused smirk on his face as his blue eyes find Ash's hazel, and he leans in close to press a tender, adoring kiss against their mouth. Smooch stolen, he returns to the task at hand with a renewed preparedness.
A hot wind blows through the cemetery, and with it comes sibilant whispers in the ears of Ash and all their companions: they promise depraved, decadent desires fulfilled, and for a moment that's all anyone can focus on.
Jodie was in some sort of daze for quite some time. Not that she was all that useful even when she was mentally present. For the last sprint she does what she can to move with strength and speed and intercept smoke ghost where possible. When the whispers start she wrinkles her nose and tries to shake her head clear like a dog who's been smacked in the head, "Fuck off."
Isaiah's eyes drift closed as that wind blows through, his mind again distracted from his task as his darkest desires take hold of him, perhaps imagining every detail in his mind. A wicked, primal smile crosses his lips as he mentally indulges, but ultimately he again realizes that he is having his thoughts warped, and another session of quiet meditation ensues as he tries, oh how he tries, to bring his thoughts to the present issue. This one is harder for him, clearly, because his face is twisting up in frustration and angst for the longest of times.
Euphemia swiftly steps back to loom over Fayad from behind, mirroring a defensive stance she had just taken earlier that morning in order to cover him whilst keeping the hunched figure of the wizard in her sights. She draws back her bow, prepared to fire another volley of arrows... before the voice seems to waft wide across the headstones of the graveyard beyond, bringing with it promises of desire and indulgence. A slight flush of crimson blossoms across her cheeks... uncertain whether it was anger or embarrassment... as she raises a hand to clutch at her temple, snarling at the disembodied voice. "...Gonthorian already tried this shit with me. FUCK OFF." She focuses, remaining stationary in preparation to protect the man conducting the banishment ritual itself.
Ash manages to not escape the kiss with their dance as they begin to move faster. Despite their moments of hesitation, their speed risesg as they complete their circle, then start on the second ring. Their movements become more advanced, testing the flexibility of their legs at the hips, and even the knees, along with the ankle. Their fingers continue their somatic, geometric movements, and there's influences of Egyptian inspired dance mixes with Indian style dance, with tutting instead of mudras, feet positioned just so. As they move, though, this very precise method of dance suffers a bit as they input sensuality into it. Though they normally excel at this particularly ghostly challenge - they're not normally doing it with Isaiah with them, the only depraved, decadent desire that they foster. They smirk at him, getting sloppy with their runes and sigils as they focus more on teasing and tantalizing.
Fayad grimaces, finishing the circle as he stands, but his eyes close too, the man likewise affected by the visions. He shifts his stance to get more comfortable as he's trapped inside his own head for a full two minutes or so, neglecting to finish his exorcism rite - having deployed the metaphysical equivalent of gunpowder around each spectral emanation, all that's left is to light the fuse.
A trio of horned smoke-monsters advance out of the mist. They have twisted weapons formed of smoke, and they descend on Ash, howling in an incomrephensible, devilish tongue.
Jodie seems to welcome the distraction of the horned smoke monsters so she can get out of her own head and charge one of them down, fist flying with anger in her eyes
Ash breaks free eventually - especially after hearing the name 'Gonthorian'. They snap to attention as they complete they second circle - only to have to do it again. They flow through the same steps, at the same speed, erasing what came before to draw anew. When the demons come forth with twisted weapons, they seem almost relieved. Some things are just easier to handle. The second circle completes better this time, the light in the circle growing stronger.
watches the gathered battlefield with caution sparkling beneath her perceptive gaze... her grip tightening around her bow as the next spiritual mass begins to manifest. Before the figures are even fully formed... the arrows have already been sent flying... providing airborne support to those doing the real damage on the frontlines. Euphemia' attention seems better spent on ensuring Fayad remains untouched... Her body tensed in preparation to intercept any wayward blows that may try to interrupt the enchantments he channels into the earth.
"This is easier.." Isaiah mutters under his breath as those horned devils move in hot and fast, clearly preferring the physical aspects to this than the mental. Again he starts to circle around Ash, protecting them with sure-footed movements that send fire-laden slashes of his hand through the various weapons of pure smoke, He cuts through them like a hot knife through butter, glacial eyes focused and intense. "Fighting is easier. I can do this part," he tells himself, embodying his inner flame with only a single hand, as though that were as much arcane power he could manifest at his current level of proficiency.
Ash begins the third circle with determination, trying to focus, even as the demonic spirits try to assault them. If they are given pain, they accept it. If they are blessed with protection, they take it. All that matters now is for them to finish the dance. Their movements grow in complexity, needing to dip and duck, twisting and leaping, spinning and twirling with growing exertion. Sweat is beginning to soak their white shirt, but they don't stop, bending themself into the exact angles that they need to finish the last ring of arcane sigils and runes.
Fayad reaches up and then snaps his fingers with his clawed gauntlet, the metallic clang causing a sudden spectal conflagration.
The smell of smoke seems to peak, and then, with a rush of magical power, it's gone. The smoke monsters in the cemetery disappear, banished -- fading away as wisps of mist in the air around $n.