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 Posted: Sat Aug 29, 2026 6:37 pm
Honestly, despite his repeated bad experiences, Prismatine couldn't help but enjoy the rush of power he felt when he got to be magical. It was as electric as being on stage, knowing every eye was on him, and he wanted more. And there was, he found, nothing comparable to the rush of draining energy. No, it wasn't directly affecting him, not when he was just collecting it into an orb that could be brought back to Negaspace, but the power it represented, the feeling of a person falling unconscious in his arms--that was something special.
Perhaps Mother hand known he would take to this well, and that was why she had chosen him, why she had done so much to ensure he and the rest of the band were brought in. He wanted to prove her right, to make her proud; certainly there were plenty of opportunities to do so. That he liked the work was, much like his musical ambitions, merely secondary.
But he was fairly certain there was someone strong nearby, and so he guided the older man he'd been draining over to a bench to sit down--it had been such an easy pretext, "helping" him and scraping a little energy on the way.
Best not to get into yet another fight he couldn't win. That, he had to admit, was the one downside--a tube of glitter was not, on the whole, exactly a powerful or dangerous weapon.
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Posted: Mon Aug 31, 2026 6:35 pm
Riker had noticed the man first. Someone slumped too heavily against another person, steps dragging in a way that looked awkward and wrong even from across the street. It might have been nothing. Heat, exhaustion, too much to drink —
Something about it didn't seem right. So he disappeared around the nearest corner without a second thought.
By the time he stepped back into view, it was as Reims, his sword already in hand and his expression dark enough that there was very little mistaking his intentions. Especially as the Chaos aura hit his senses. And he knew his own aura would have been felt in turn.
His attention went immediately to the older man on the bench. Pale. Barely conscious. Reims's jaw tightened. Then his eyes lifted to the Lieutenant.
"Give it back."
There was no greeting. No attempt at diplomacy. Reims took another step closer, sword hanging loosely at his side for now.
"You get one chance," he said. "Give back whatever you took from him, and then slink back into whatever shitty hole Chaos dragged you out of."
His gaze flicked over the Lieutenant, lingering for a moment on the decidedly unimpressive weapon before returning to his face.
"And if you're thinking about trying your luck anyway—" Reims gave him a humorless little smile that was more of a snarl. "Please do."
He rolled one shoulder, shifting the sword comfortably in his grip.
"I've had a bad week."
Probably not the most responsible thing to say to someone whose aura barely registered next to his own. Reims didn't particularly care. His expression sharpened again.
"Give back what you took, walk away now, and maybe you get to keep pretending you're dangerous."
His eyes narrowed.
"Make me come take it from you, and I'll make sure you remember this every single time you think about powering up again."
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