ꜱ1ᴇ1　　west quarter

↳ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ 15, 2051
↳ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: out the roof - chase atlantic
↳ ᴇᴅᴇɴ: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f8/9f/ef/f89fef15cd5a1383904748b0f2a9405b.jpg

The wheels of his skateboard had barely hit the ground and Eden was on it and in motion, cruising through the streets with his sunglasses pushed up high and no weapons in his hands, but he had the advantage over his opponents and even his soldiers because he didn't need to keep the weapons he wielded on his person. Weaving from one side of the street to another, Eden followed the tension in the air that thrummed like a beacon, dragging him in even from his command tent. He knew that the Dream Guard needed their captain to be deployed. He could feel that the situation was growing dire.

His bright orange clothing drew attention, but to those who hadn't encountered Eden before they wouldn't know him as the Dream Guard's captain. He was just a 5'4 young adult on a skateboard, from the outside looking in. But he was so much more than that, and he had done a good job hiding his reality even from his Guard.

Eden flipped his skateboard, veering down a side street to take a shortcut. He knew the city like the back of his hand, and he could hear the sound of violence, could smell the stain of blood. It awoke a darkness inside of him, unfurling and spreading through his chest, singing for the death of those who would attack his city and hurt his people. It called to the part of him that was a natural guardian, the part that called him to protect his kind.

And then he was emerging from between two buildings to see the sprawl of a battlefield, his Guard tangled with other men and women. Eden inhaled, realizing his amplified petrification wouldn't be an option unless he wanted to also petrify members of the Dream Guard. It was a sacrifice he deemed unnecessary, zipping through the tangles of bloodshed. Someone reached out for him and a xiphos appeared in Eden's hand long enough for him to sever that which the enemy had reached for him with. A few spatters of blood landed on him, the first cry of pain he had caused echoing behind as he continued on his path.

The sword vanished, leaving him again empty-handed. As Eden rolled farther into the fray and the awareness of his presence began to spread, the Dream Guard began to push back harder, invigorated by the presence of their captain. Though none of the Guard had ever witnessed Eden fight in his true capacities, there were stories. And there was Reina, who bowed to him even though she was a God in her own right.

A cry of pain alerted him, his head snapping to the side. Eden never slowed his path or stopped, but a doru appeared in his hand and he launched it to spear through the hunter that had attacked one of his own. The woman crumbled, her blood seeping over the stone, and something inside Eden rumbled. His bloodthirst had awakened, unfurling and stretching out greedy fingers for the destruction of those bold enough to get in his way.

He was Eden, and this was /his/ city, and he'd be damned if he let anyone hurt his Guard, his pit.

And at that very moment, his pit needed him. Eden flipped his skateboard to evade a strike, spinning on the back of the board as one of his longbows appeared in his hands. A single shot was fired and the enemy who had thought to knock him from his transportation fell, arrow embedded in his throat.

"Take that one!"

Eden heard the yell, and it only alerted him to the plans of his enemies. He ducked his head to hide his grin, spurred to move faster and return to speeding through the battlefield, though now he wove in nonsensical whips and dips and curves and loops that did more to inconvenience his opponents who pursued him than anything else. It kept them occupied and off of the backs of his swarmed Guard, and it was fun, but he bored of it all too soon and this time, when he flipped his skateboard, he switched his position to skate in the other direction, xiphos in one hand and doru in the other.

Trying to destroy him only ever lead to this; Eden cut them down quickly, weaving between them on his skateboard without ever slowing or stopping. When someone provided him a challenge, the captain of the Dream Guard would be more than happy to take them up; but these opponents were nothing, humans who didn't know what they were getting into when they thought he would be a fairly easy target because he was just a kid on a board.

Again he was empty-handed, and again he was back on course for what seemed to be the epicenter of the violence, the tangled knot where the most of his guards were mown down. Eden's lips parted in a hiss, echoed in his ears though his hair remained hair and did not yet contort into the weaving mass of snakes that it was prone to become. As he rocketed through the throngs of battling soldiers, Eden's posture straightened, his sunglasses pushed higher on his nose, a quiet word whispered into his earpiece: a command, a command that parted the Dream Guard before him and gave him a straight shot to the devastation that was being wreaked upon his own.

Enemies got in his way. Enemies fell. Blood sprayed across his clothes and face. Eden scarcely noticed. A knife bounced off of his back, thrown by an enemy behind him. Eden twisted around on his board, firing another shot from his bow and letting that weapon vanish too.

His mother had baptized him in the Styx. There was no one alive who knew of his weak point, no one who could point an opponent in the right direction to truly hurt the Gorgon. And those who discovered his species and thought they could decapitate him and be done were sorely disappointed; Eden was not the garden variety Gorgon, oh no. He was Eden, he was the child of a clever woman who had foreseen her son having a powerful destiny.

Lightning crashed in the distance, and Eden knew it was Reina. It brought a laugh out of him as he twisted under a man's weapon and grabbed his arm to toss him over his hip, and board. He knew where his Guards were strongest, where his warriors had been dispatched. And he could feel where some of them were striking, like Reina.

"This is Eden," he uttered into his earpiece, "I am wheels on the ground in the West Quarter. Stay strong. Gain your footing. Remember who you are and what you fight for. We will be victorious."

With that, the captain of the Dream Guard turned off his earpiece and took the time to tuck it into his pocket before reaching up toward the sky, light glowing over his palm as he reached for one of his most powerful dorata, gut wrenching with the effort it took to /pull/ the persnickety spear to him. The rumble of thunder grew louder when it finally began to materialize in his palm, handle first and then the wicked tip, stemming with the poison that was his own blood.

Eden's playtime was over, and now he was ready to decimate his opponents.

@KOHAKU MIYAZAKI mortem's forces were met with an unanticipated amount of dream guards, leading to hunters of lio's rank being dispatched as the sun was beginning to set over the city streets littered with the victims of war. in regards to lio fotia himself, he felt nearly overwhelmed with anxious butterflies in his stomach. he even found it difficult to stand upright. he wasn't anxious of dying, but he was instead doubting his ability. 'what if i meet my mother?' he considers, knowing fully well despite his training with mortem, he'd fail to leave a scratch on her. during times like these, he wishes he could tear the human flesh away from his bones and make him a fully fledged angel.

however once he finally arrived at the city location, the gentle breeze blowing down the citystreets soothed him and over the corpses. while his angelic blood wasn't strong enough for the spirits to appear before him, he could hear their last wishes in a low murmur. "take back what those monsters stole from us," one said. "protect my family, please." said another. while lio realized that beyond the binary between monster and human, nearly every soul shared the same sentiment for prosperity in their lives.

he feels a tear run down his cheek. then another. and another. he grows angry with himself as he realizes he must be on the lookout for the enemy. raising his forearm, he brushes his tears away with the sleeve of his white blouse. he blames his moment of sympathy on his damned angelic blood, thinking the dead with their spirits lingering on the streets were luckier than how he stood now.

suddenly, he's charged at by a few dream guards. without flinching, lio materializes a sword of light with his angelic power--the only thing his mother taught him. not to fly, or heal, but to kill. it came as natural to him as killing the rats that scurried around his bed at night. it's kill or be killed, and lio knew that well. he emerges from the now lifeless guards without a spot of blood on him. even with his cruel demeanor, he looked absolutely angelic as he sheathes his sword of light, paired with his usual welcoming smile.

lio soon senses something in the distance, and he notices /it/: an angel. his gaze narrows only to the distant form. a grin grows across his lips, tongue wetting them in anticipation. "finally," he exclaims, "i can do what i joined mortem for." he grows giddy and otherwise unlike himself, unable to stifle a simper that rises beyond the confines of his throat. "i'll impress beau with how slowly i'll tear its wings off."