Nazune visibly cringed when she heard the double attack of the names Brevedor and SSHE. That was were Tesri worked, and, given that, it was this Lord Brevedor and his SSHE that wanted to capture her in the first place. Tesri was just the thug they sent to do the deed, but it was this Lord Brevedor, whom she met only very briefly before and exchanged no words with, who masterminded the whole thing.
She hated them almost as much as she despised Tesri.
With all that in mind, it was extremely difficult for Nazune to concede, "That's fine. If that's what everyone wants."
Everything wasn't all about her. There were many other people on this team, and she didn't want them to conform to her whims. They had to be exhausted and aching from the morning's tumultous events, and if this was the most easily accessible place to go and recouperate, then so be it.
Things were much different now than when she first found herself stuck in the SSHE building in any case.
"Let's go," she prompted of Kaite, looking in her direction.
Zekial and Mariam waited patiently, one of them curious about being able to see more of his workplace, and one of them wondering where exactly they were going and just who 'she' was, and why she had a headquarters.
Once Insera leapt back up onto her feet, she had noticed a certain body part not belonging to Neseraph on a particular area of her own body. With all the usual suspects ruled out due to distance, Insera glared down at Dante the innocent bard angrily. On the cue of the old man's question, she began to repeatedly and viciously drive the heel of her shoe into Dante's chest when the man asked for assistance, hoping to crack a rib or two.
"No, sir, you were not," she explained to the man like a lioness might growl at one of her cubs. Then, down to Dante, "Am I right??"
"Ah..." replied the old man, scratching the back of his neck unsurely. "Well, if you say so, I guess. When I was your age-"
"Hey, pappy, can I ask you somethin'?" Neseraph inquired quickly. He glanced back at Vivante, Dante, and especially Insera with his 'trust me' face, which, ultimately, did little to quell the disquieted look on Insera's own face.
"Well sure," the old man, Pappy as Neseraph called him, responded with a shrug.
"You mind if we crash in your house for the day? We'll fix the window for ya," Neseraph asked and offered.
Insera, ceasing her assault of Dante's ribcage, looked like she was the voice of dissenting opinion for a second-
Before Pappy, slightly aloof as ever, agreed, "Uh, suppose I could use the company. All my kids and grandkids are out on their own now, and Susani ain't around no more. Well, uh, make yourself at home I guess." He waved dismissively at the broken window as he slowly and carefully turned around to go back out, "Ah, don't worry about it, lad. My youngest is a glassworker... I'll get him to come by and visit sometime. See his old dad and fix my dern winda."
Pappy left the bedroom, slowly heading back toward the stairs.
"Are you serious?" Insera asked incriminatingly of Neseraph, crossing her arms expectantly.
"Whaaat?" he replied playfully, turning around to face all of them. "It's a house. We can hide and relax. Keep the old guy company for a bit, you know? It's the least we can do after we broke his 'dern winda'."
He clapped Vivante hard on the shoulder and solicited him for his opinion, "Isn't that right, Viv?"
Insera sighed slightly, still feeling guilty that they might be taking advantage of the old man's kindness. Her eyes soon returned to the bard though, and she said sternly to him, "Be a man. Get up."
Latira really hated those Mordecai.
Lindraeus didn't know in detail the specific relationships between dragonkind and Connlaoth's Mordecai, but apparently the two didn't get along very well. Little tidbits of information like that always intrigued his scientific mind, and left him wanting to know more.
But, of course, now certainly wasn't the time or the place.
He wanted to ask Feyda again where they were going, but at this point it would be redundant and only serve to irritate her.
"Okay," he spoke, resigned to come along for the ride on Latira's back.
Several hours after his departure from Reajh, Skylance was finally striding through the subsurface halls underneath the building that carried his own name, the Skylance, in the city of Hallow in Heaven. A massive entourage of his senior staff, military advisors, attendants, secretaries, and personal retinue traveled in his wake.
"Our casualty estimates are still coming in, sir," said the advisor on his right. "Our current totals are 10,154 regulars; 2,496 elites; 577 special task teams members; 290 scientists; and 75 Projects dead. Another 301 personnel from all categories are missing and have yet to be recovered. Equipment damage, in raw weight, amounts to..."
Skylance didn't care, and let the numbers wash off of him. This was it, his dream realized, his final means. Most of his men knew what they were fighting for, the ideals they all shared, and if they were of the oblivious Honor Guard then they gave their lives for something greater than they would ever know.
"Skylance, how could you be so careless?" said one of his senior staff members on his left. "How can you justify such extreme losses? And for what? A gamble? A chance? A cast of the dice? How can you honestly jeopardize everything we have built, everything we have planned, for eons now...?"
Skylance said nothing to the man. His faith was waivering, obviously, and he might need to be 'replaced' soon. Skylance would have given double, triple if necessary, the amount of the lives lost if it meant securing the Rogue High Seraphim.
"Sir, the cover story has been prepared per your instructions," said one of his public relations officers to his right. "The fiasco will be the sole responsibility of Commander Ergoriel of the Hallow Honor Guard, who died in the unwarranted large-scale assault on Hell. This treasonous action will have been executed without your knowledge, of course, and will free you from all liability..."
Skylance stopped once he entered the enormous holding room, and so did his train of advisors and staff members. Visage was right behind him, gazing up in awe as much as he was at the sight.
The Rogue High Seraphim Mother was bound to countless chains hanging from the ceiling and walls of the gigantic underground warehouse, divine energy coursing ceaselessly through the metal.
Mother's avatar, the size of a human, was tethered to her gray-and-white High Seraphim body behind her with myriad tendrils of writhing pure energy. Her High Seraphim body was colossal, as large as a football stadium, and only vaguely humanoid; it was more ghostly and surreal, constantly morphing and changing ever so slightly.
Her avatar's head hung lifelessly down, the body being supported by the chains that held her up.
Skylance waved to his entourage to stop them as he proceeded forward toward her. The scientists and researchers all fanned out of his way, allowing him passage directly up to the metal pedestal that stood before Mother's suspended avatar.
He ascended the stairs, walked across the pedestal, and stood inches from the face of Mother's avatar.
He waited patiently until the heavily drugged, miraculous subdued, and thoroughly beaten Mother noticed his presence in front of her, and opened her eyes slightly and weakly to gaze upon him.
And Skylance, in his most victorious and triumphant moment, delivered his words quietly and confidently to the High Seraphim, "How does it feel...? To be beaten... by a mere... Angel?"
