Justus did not trust the human king and he never had. If it wasn't for the peace treaty he was pretty sure that he would have had his head. For the most part that night he hid the disgusted  on his face anytime the human king spoke , or his offspring ( besides his daughter who was rather rebellious and made him laugh ) would pass him. He wanted to enjoy the night because Elysia deserved it. They didn't have many balls or gatherings anymore in the immortal kingdom and he knew that was something that she missed. Even though she was a righteous leader in her own right , she was still a Queen. Didn't she miss the social part of who she had become ? He remembered a time when his mother would hold a lot of balls at court and he was forced to go. He would almost always drag Elysia with him to the events , that kept the other women away from him and it was established long before he had realized that she was indeed his better half. She was always by his side and he was forever indebted to her. r

In the ballroom his eyes rolled up lazily as the human king spoke to the slightly smaller crowd of people that had gathered for a final dance. Running a hand through his hair he pulled Elysia close to him absentmindedly. His eyes scanning the room at the guards that he had brought along with him and also trying his best to search for Connor. He introduced the mages that were suppose to do some sort of surprise and his eyebrows lifted. He could feel his body tense as he heard them speak in a language he didn't understand. Shaking his head , something just wasn't right. The smirk on the king's face made him sneer slightly as he grabbed Elysia a little tighter to him. Then there was the roar , the bone chilling scream that caught his attention before more men were by his side and covering him. Justus demanded that his men protected the queen before he snapped his neck. "They are not the traitors . You are the traitor. How is it that all of a sudden this happens after your little show. The immortals are not your ally and you will pay for this madness you created. Possibly with your head." , Justus screamed. For the most part his words were drowned out by the screams from the people dying or being attacked around him. He kissed Elysia cheek quickly before he pushed through some of his men , some followed and some stayed to protect Elysia. Elysia was not a damsel in distress. She had great power of her own but she still needed that protection.

Justus knew that most of the time he was holding his strength back and this was not one of the times that he shouldn't have to. "I don't want these mages and werebeasts hurt. Stun them if you are capable , tie them up if you can and round them up to me if you have to." , in those same words he was pushing a jaguar off of him. Hard enough where it would knock him out but not to kill him. That was a complicated order to take , you see these werebeasts attacking people you love and care about. But this was not like them , some of them were hundreds of years old. They had control and Justus had seen plenty of rogue werebeats. This wasn't a time. It had something to do with that spell and he knew it. It was chaotic and even though he wanted to protect , it was becoming hard. Even when he wanted to be focused on everyone , he's eyes kept making sure Elysia was alright. 

Connor slipped into the vaulted ballroom with Solara easily, though the quick footsteps of one of his men and a tap on his shoulder promptly drew him away from her. He'd stepped away with a small, apologetic squeeze, and a murmur that he would be back shortly. With that, he'd gone to the periphery of the room, even as the mages took center stage with their chanting, shimmering display of light. His ear was squarely focused on the man murmuring to him, citing concerns about the man that had been kicked out earlier potentially having gotten back in, among a couple of other small details. Fortunately, the amount of whiskey the Commander had snuck into the place had been pitifully small once shared between himself and Solara. He hardly felt impeded in listening, giving small nods and quiet instruction as necessary, as his eyes lingered, watching the iridescent display. It was in the middle of the display, however, that his attention was drawn away from the guard at his side. Holding up a hand to silence the man, the Commander's eyes narrowed as the sound of surprised gasps gave way to animalistic snarls... and then screaming. In multiple places throughout the crowd, groups of people were abruptly twisting, scrambling, pushing as they sought to escape whatever was going on.

The sight… It was pitiful. Violent, bloody, yes, but far from the type of coordinated attack he’d have expected had something been premeditated. He didn’t expect that the Weres, particularly with Alvina having been in attendance, would’ve been so poor in such an attack. Something was wrong; fortunately, the man he served seemed to catch onto that fact as quickly as he.

From further in the crowd, he heard a familiar voice ring sharply through the air; Justus. At once, he craned his head, eyes quickly finding his king, and then flicking through the quickly-forming stampeded in search of Solara. He hoped... That she would get out. Casting another look the periphery, making eye contact with at least one of his men, he belted out an order mirroring his King's: "A stab to the lung should incapacitate them long enough that they can be dealt with! Kill them only if it cannot be avoided!" With a quick, wrenching motion, he sent the cloak at his shoulders to the floor and prepared to plunge into the crowd.

Justus was capable a man as any, one which he was proud to serve under, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with him on all matters. Connor felt his authority on this one was perfect. That did not, however, mean that he was willing to leave the man alone in a crowd of frothing beasts. He was, after all, the King, and certainly a better one that the pitiful mortal who seemed to have incited such an event.

--

She felt disgust. Deep, low in her gut; it made her feel sick. Alvina had not anticipated Rad having been in attendance at such a place. Yes, she didn’t mind the company of his mate, Wryn, but that was entirely another issue. Or rather, she was the source of the problem. Alvina wanted the man dead, for the ill-taken blood of one of her pack members months before; that was not a possibility. Her highest, governing law was to respect mate bonding. Rad was safe, just barely, because of that human girl. The one who spoke softly, who sought to care for him, even if he was a blood-lusting piece of ilk…

That disgust had driven her from the garden after she and Warin had bumped into them. Of course, Warin had sought to follow her. He was dutiful in that way, a proper soldier and man as much as he was a member of her Pack. In her frustration however, in her intent to take a moment away from such a thing, she’d waved to him and told him to wait on the patio. She’d called some excuse about needing to speak to someone familiar. That, however, had put her inside the ballroom, and within reach of those ushering the attending guests en masse to watch the show put on by the mages.

She was at the periphery of the group, mercifully not packed in like a fish in a barrel as many others were, as the lighting show began. Holding her head high, though her hands were wrapped tightly around her torso in a soothing gesture, she set her jaw as she focused instead on the show that was quickly unfolding. In truth, the twinkling of the lights had their own soothing quality. It was almost as if she were back in the forested mountains, looking up at the light of the stars. Of course the dreadful ceiling wasn’t the most pleasant of backdrops – but that was not what ruined the illusion.

It felt as if her flesh had been touched by the mandibles of fire-ants, by the time the lights reached the floor. The burning was swift, quickly spreading out over the entirety of her skin. Her teeth clenched, her nails lengthening and reforming as claws as she quickly started to loosen the bodice of her gown. With a few more seconds, all at once, her bones began to break and reform, her hair lengthening, darkening as it broke across her flesh. Panic, discomfort – it surged up in her thoughts, consuming any semblance of control she tried to maintain. Her body twisting, she collapsed, a startled cry of pain broken as she instead released a loud, woeful howl.

The world swam. Dark blurs surged around her. She needed it, blood. His blood. Their blood.

All around her, everyone looked like those villains of her past and present. She couldn’t see him, Rad, among any of the swimming faces. Others, yes, and perhaps she took snaps as she floundered and gathered herself on the marble floor, disentangling herself from her gown. But, there was one face which caught her vengeance before any others. He was only several yards away, quickly beginning to weave his way into the crowd. Reachable, running like prey. Her body moved, her blood-red eyes fixing on him.

--

Connor didn’t see her coming. What alerted him was the abrupt scrambling and panic of those around him, as she neared. He was just turning, quickly finding the scarred face of a black wolf baring her teeth as she practically sailed through the air at him. Time slowed. The look in her eyes was wild – no trace of humanity, no trace of the calculation he’d known her for. It was as if she had simply disappeared, leaving behind only an animal.

Throwing up his hand, he caught her in the throat – narrowly avoiding the snapping of her fangs. Her momentum, however, threw them both off balance. The slick, marble floor did the rest, causing them both to go down. Kicking away, rolling, scrambling, even as her claws sought and failed to gain purchase to restore her balance, Connor righted himself. Meanwhile, the she-wolf frothed, finally finding her way. He reached for his knife, though he was forced ultimately to shove a gloved wrist into her face to stop another attack of her teeth. Fortunately, the thick leather limited the damage caused by her jaw; his own jaw locked, however, as she abruptly started shaking him.

It needed to end. Quickly. His fingers sought his blade, reaching for the small of his back. Then he hesitated. The Commander knew well enough from his time with Brawnen that a stab would be sufficient to at least temporarily stop her. But that wouldn’t do. Time was of the essence before another Were joined in on her attack – he would be useless of he were injured now. Others were too far away to peel her back.

The sound of her claws on the marble floor caught his attention, then, and at once an idea formulated in his mind.

His body moved with a practiced ease. Quickly, he rolled his lower half, striking out to knock her legs from beneath her. She fell flat, and he abruptly changed direction. Leveraging her face from the hold she still maintained on his wrist – stubborn a bitch as she was – he righted himself, and pressed her to the side. Force from his other hand carried her over onto her side, at which point he abruptly grasped her by the windpipe. At once, her grip slackened, replaced by alarmed snarls and scrambling claws as she tried to extricate herself. The Immortal threw his weight down, restricting her airflow further. Her eyes bugged, jaws snapping in the air as a small gurling sounded from her. Bloodly salvia rolled from her lips, though he couldn’t have guessed whether the fluid was from himself or from her. After nearly a minute, her scratching attempts at freedom finally subsided, her paws going slack. Teeth grinding, he held his grip for only a few more seconds after that for good measure, before he released.

Alvina remained sprawled on the floor, gums reflecting a blueish hue as they peeked from her slackened jaw. His legs carried him swiftly up and over, leaving her crumpled there as he plunged forward to confront the next beast on his way to the king. That, was, however, until he glimpsed a familiar face – or rather, a face that was quickly being lost among black fur and a transforming body (one which he had seem in very different circumstances only a few weeks prior). "Fuck."

Killian. And he seemed to have his eyes set quickly on the delicate form of the human princess.




Warin Ilmatar Justus Delago Killian Cruz 

(Sorry if this is confusing. I just went with a double for both Connor and Alvina.)

The evening had been going pretty well and he even apparently won something. For being the type of person he is he was awful modest about the whole thing and didn’t see how it was even possible. After his small time with Rhiannon, the human princess in the garden, they decided to move back into the ball. Getting just passed the doors as there was an announcement for a special show being put on by the mages. Killian held a very calm and collected expression on his face as per usual. Eyes shifting however when he could see a few people seemingly start to get uncomfortable. Within a moments breath, he started to feel a little funny too. Swallowing a bit and tucking his chin towards his chest he stared towards the stage but his mind was wandering elsewhere. It was becoming hard to focus, his cat started to grow restless and feels uncontrollable.

Something was wrong.

He was about to excuse himself from Rhi to go find some air and regain his composure but he was quickly losing ground. The pain started to grind against his bones as the cat fought to the surface not even giving him a chance to fight back. As he lowered to the ground in pain, hands formed into black paws and touched the marble floor almost delicately. What now stood in the place of the sweet human now stood a growling fearsome feline. His ears laid flat against his skull as he was quickly advancing on the princess who stood in front of him. Claws unsheathed as large paws swiped at her legs as loud hisses and growls were given. He kept advancing shortening whatever distance she might have tried to put between them. Close and closer he drew until finally having enough of this dance, his body lowered to the ground readying him to pounce. Within in seconds, his back legs launched his massive body into the air attempting to collide with Rhiannon. Fangs bared, ready to sink into the precious princess, he braced for impact.

Rhiannon Dufour Connor Lachesis

Elysia had never been on a battlefield.

For all that she had trained and fought for play and fun, she had never truly been challenged except by the occasional assassin. She froze. Justus order's rang in her ears as he pulled away from her, barely understood. She reached for him, but some part of her mind must have understood because her hand stopped short of him. Time seemed to slow, then gradually speed up as the guards formed up around her and began fighting towards the nearest exit. She licked lips gone suddenly dry and plunged a hand into the slit of her skirt, drawing up the stiletto that had been strapped to her thigh. Feeling less helpless, she lifted her chin high.

"Quickly- the sooner I am out the less his Majesty has to worry about." Her voice held the cool command of a queen. It was, however, drowned out by the roar of a dragon as it's massive frame filled the room. She flicked cold eyes to it- at any other time she would have admired it for the beauty it was but instead she scoffed at it's orders. Get down, in this madhouse? She'd rather not. However, she urged her guards to take advantage of those who did listen and get down, moving more easily even if some people got stepped on. She lost two guards on the way, though whether they had fallen or were simply fighting she did not spare a glance to look. When they finally reached the entrance she caught one guard.

"You, with me. The rest of you go back inside to Justus. One of you make sure to reach him and tell him we will meet him at home. He need not search for me." She didn't intend to become a victim of the human king's insanity, not when Justus had so loudly declared against him. She prayed to whatever gods were listening that he come out alright and then disappeared into the night with her lone guard.

Ea drew Carlisle close to him as they entered the ballroom, hands resting gently on the doctor's hips. He barely listened as the human king began to speak, impatient for the music to start. All he wanted was one dance. One dance with the handsome dark haired man. He shifted close, their bodies together, almost cheek to cheek. This close Ea could smell him, feel the heat of his body. He was content to ignore the people around them. In defference to Carlisle's shyness, he hadn't even drawn them to the center of the room. Rather he had let them be part of the crowd, making no attempt to draw more attention to him than he already drew normally. "Since you're free of your duties tonight, perhaps you could come back-"

He paused as the mages began their show, lifting his head with a faint look of distaste. For all that he was a shoman, he didn't really like mages working with the human king like that. It seemed too politically strange- especially since he'd heard nothing of the sort. They couldn't be Lledrith mages. The council would have heard of such a request. He stepped away from Carlisle, one hand still on his waist. His posture changed though, drawing himself up again as though he wore his position like a cloak. Then all hell broke loose. People were screaming and fighting the smell of blood was hot and coppery in the air. The threats being thrown back and forth were practically drowned out by the chaos of the general surroundings. He backed up, thrusting Carlisle towards the wall. "Run, hug the wall!" He called over his shoulder, lifting his voice to carry the short distance between them. Then movement caught the corner of his eye as two human guards strode towards him. A snarl twisting his lips, Ea thrust out one hand. Heat built under his skin and thin tendrils of smoke began to curl from the cloth against his skin. Two falcons of fire swept from his outstretched hand, soaring into the faces of the guards who fell, screaming, as the fire caught in their hair and devoured the fate beneath their skin. Weapons fell from their hands as they clawed at the flames. Ea let those tethers of magic go, feeling the draw on his magic almost immediatly. The fire lost form but, still fed from his magic, they continued to burn. The men had stopped screaming as the flames scorched their throats and devoured the air from their lungs. Gradually it's hungry fingers stretched out towards the cloth peeking from between pieces of armor, searching for more fuel to help it grow beyond what Ea fed it.

Silk robes already beginning to show smoldering holes, Ea strode into the chaos, levering himself up onto a table too heavy for the crowd to upset. Before he could do more, a massive shape near the entry took form. Smoke coalesced into the shape of a dragon and her voice roared so loudly it nearly burst his eardrums. She seemed to be helping though so he dismissed her from his mind- she was covering the portion of the room closest to the door. That left him more attention for the rest of the room. Already sweat began to bead on his forehead and soak the formal clothing he'd so carefully chosen. He shoved the gold bangles from his wrists, letting them clatter to the table as he called out.

"ARLYN!" It was the only warning he gave the water mage. He hoped only that the old man would understand, if he had the attention to spare. This was not going to be pretty, either for him or for anyone else. But he was <i>angry</i>. Rational decisions were perhaps not high in his mind. Pillars of flame began to shoot up from the floor, enveloping guardsmen and weres who threatened the regular guests of the party. Though they quickly lost pillar shape, they caught anything nearby aflame- clothing, curtains, painting, even the polished floor. Pale and sweating, Ea worked to try and separate the guards and violent beasts from their victims where he could do so without immediately killing the intended victims. He didn't care so much about killing the attackers. Werebeast and guard alike both looked like enemies to him.