His eyes close automatically as he steps into the portal, and he is instantly met with a variety of colors that shatter and undulate against a dark background. A lovely show, really, to see the lights weave their intricate patterns as he descends into ambiguity. He had not seen anyone else when he chose to enter the portal, but now he can sense that others are not far behind. Intuitively, he stops at the same time the others do and he immediately realizes that he would rather continue watching the aurorae behind his eyes than see what actually lays before them.
The coppery scent of blood, which he had picked up before submitting himself the supernatural summonses, grows stronger still as he comes to a rest. He hears the guttural sounds of the effort behind surging troops, the thunderous reverberations as bodies collide in violence, the cacophonous screams of both anguish and triumph. Though he had never strapped on the boots of a soldier, Assailant still recognizes the sounds of war.
A faint glow of warmth strokes his cheek and he opens his eyes just as some winged creature dives toward him. He begins to shrink away from its destructive flight path but there is not enough time, and though he hears the feathery rustlings and gust of wind as the aggressor closes in, the impact he braces for never comes. Bewildered, he squints through the haze of precipitation until it makes sense. He sees an eclectic bunch standing passively near his own position, each with a soft blur of light hovering near their faces, which wear a wide range of emotions in their features. None of them are touched by the participants of the battle raging around them.
He shrugs off his shock as the words of the sprites echo in his ears and soon finds his own voice trapped by the doubts circling in his mind. He is such a simple man from an era that is nearly as long gone and buried as the Baltian/Stratosian history. He’d never felt such an intense loyalty to his kingdom that he had been willing to die for her; there was no way that he could understand the motives of these skirmishing around him or those that came before them.
He continues to listen as the two mares speak and finds that he agrees with the first. His brow furrows as the second adds her thoughts. His eyes find the aquatic qualities of her appearance and he wonders if she is a member of one of the warring kingdoms. Surprisingly, he finds himself impressed by the overwhelming passion in her voice, even by the minute traces of what could be interpreted as guilt and shame in her eyes.
Rezza is someone with something to believe in, which is far more than he can say of himself. He is stunned to realize that he covets on a small scale. While he is still unsure if he could possibly make any meaningful contribution to this investigation, it’s certainly worth a shot. He clears his throat quietly, drawing attention to himself for the first time. “Well, I’ve always noticed that logic and conflict are not the greatest of colleagues. Hatred still stems from justification, even if it is as small and irrational as disliking the way someone looks.”
Not quite sure what to say next, and not particularly caring to meet Rezza's gaze, he looks to his sprite and leans into its heat. Though nothing touches the questing party, the chill of both the environment and the strife punctuate to the bone. A faint shiver runs along his spine as he speaks again, “Surely there must have been a time when these countries existed, perhaps not harmoniously, but at least quietly alongside each other.. that would be a time worth looking at. And maybe we should expand our persons of interest to include those close to the royals as well. It wouldn’t be the first time that a green-eyed monster used the crown as a pawn to achieve dominion that would otherwise be beyond their own reach.”
He falls silent again, standing with an air of mellow self-assurance that belies the fact that he is quite sure he sounds absolutely ridiculous in all of his inexperience in such matters. Still..
