It was time to pull it all to a close. This was the part of the show that mattered most, and though the middle had been the showstopping part-- well, the ending note would be the part everyone would remember, right? "Don't blink-- or you'll miss it!" Fisher warned, head reared back to bear down on the crowd with his caramel gaze flashing sparks.

And Fisher wasn't lying, by any stretch of the imagination. Immediately, all of the electricity in the air was cut by a sudden burst from his fractured gemstone. There was a brief flash, and everything faded. The lights nearby all flickered and faded into darkness, the gemstones on his armor turned dark, and the metal that clung to his pelt slipped free from its static cling.

Metal clinked to the ground, and Fisher stepped free from his armor, as suddenly, all of the dangerous electricity in the air was completely and absolutely gone. The room was dim, for all but the single crystal he had purposefully avoided-- the one he had carried in. That still glowed, its brilliant blue all the more intense in the moment before the lights slowly began to flicker back on.

"Hope you guys enjoyed," Fisher gave a ceremonious bow, and a wink, "if anyone wants an autograph, I'll be waiting." Then, he scooped up the crystal between his jaws, and stepped off of the stage floor, pride rippling off him in waves.

Oh, he knew he was something else, alright.

note ;; @Kalama

M for one(1) word

Kalama shook out her feathers, picking up a hard rock she'd carried with her. She was already irritated. But it was her turn, finally. It took long enough. Why was SHE the last one to participate? And then, when she upon the stage, everything made sense. Only one of the judges she didn't recognize. Pride. The others? Both bonebound. Her gaze zeroed in on Aure. The stone dropped.

"ITS YOU," She screamed, pointing a wing at Aure. The wing moved to Damask. "And YOU. I've seen you twice but I know you're a dirty BONESNIFFER. No wonder I'm last. I've been sitting this entire time, wondering why I was last. I deserved to be FIRST. I was good enough to be first. I've won more battles than any of you can imagine. I'm better at combat than anyone here. You bonesniffers rigged the olympics so I was last. I should've known. You knew I would win. You all knew it, didn't you? This is bias! Why are two of them allowed to judge!?"

She clucked, stomping a foot. "I'm a champion of Hydra--I've seen what death looks like. I KILLED an iceworm. Solo. I have battle scars beneath these feathers! And another thing--magicka sucks. I hate it--only cheaters use magicka. Cheaters and cowards, like the Bonebound. I hate the Bonebound, by the way. And Imp. And I have a very logical explanation for both."

She looked past the judges, to the people waiting in the stands, looking for a performance. And oh, she was giving them one. "By the way, if anyone sees Imp, tell him he sucks! Anyways, the Bonebound? They kicked me out! I had done nothing wrong! I just wanted to start a warband. So much for the tolerant Bonebound. And you know what?" She turned back to Aure.

"I don't need your dumb bonesniffers for a warband anymore. I made my own. Its a giant monster. Named Kalaziel, destroyer of caves and death. They have my magic, so they're guaranteed to be an unstoppable warrior. They've already killed a mouse, too. Its only up from here. I'll add anyone not cowardly to my warband! We're gonna go around smashing dumb bones and beating up idiots!"

"Anyways," She said. "Like I said, magicka sucks, and I'm here to show you why."

Kalama's neck prickled. A puff of smoke formed, then blazed a trail from the back of her neck, to the tip of her tail. She shook it, feeling the burn sensation spread. "You see this? This shitting hurts! I hate magicka! It's painful and useless, unless you're a coward." Kalama stomped, striking the rock she'd brought with a spur. Sparks mixed with the dark smoke, dying out within seconds.

think "speak"

Kalama shook out the smoke, growling. "Why do that when you could just light yourself on fire? I don't know! You'd look cooler on fire, by the way! Its absolutely useless! As all magicka! What the Bonebound wont tell you is that all this sucks. And other groups too, I guess. But mostly the Bonebound. Because I hate them. And watch this--"

Kalama focused her magicka. A wisp sparked to life, a tiny thing. "You see this? This is a dumb light thing. You know what also makes light? Fire. You dont need magicka for fire! If it were up to me, we'd all just be wrestling and throwing fire at each other. This contest SUCKS and all magic users do too. If you're cool you'd just beat each other up like normal rational gembound."

The wisp drifted to her feet, and Kalama squashed it with a taloned foot. Multiple times. With way too much enthusiasm. "You see how dumb this thing is? Yeah, that's your brain on magicka. You see me? You see how strong, brave, and amazing I am? Thats your brain off of magicka. I can feel my muscles dying just from using this stupid stuff. I fought a dragon, by the way. Can your magicka fight a dragon? I didn't think so.

"Because its all DUMB. If anyone wants training on how to be a real cool hero that can beat up dragons, see me after the show! I'll fight any magic users one on one, too. Especially you, Aure. Bonebound are preferred opponents. For no specific reason, they just all are dumb and uncool. Meet me in a shady spot behind the spire."

think "speak"

"Are you ready for my last act? Because I sure am. I hate being up here. I wrestle. I'm a great wrestler. I'm in the wrestling competition, by the way. I'm really good at it! I'm also in the obstacle course, but that's not fighting and it SUCKS. I'm fighting a cat for my first round! If you're a cat, you're okay! Bird adjacent gembound suck! Excluding those that fight. Catch me fighting Adderstrike! Also, everyone that came before me sucks. Unless you're converting to wrestling. Then you're cool. Heres my last example of why magicka sucks real bad."

Kalama shook herself out. Her gemstone warmed with a spark of magicka. "Watch this dumb stuff." The magicka spluttered out. Nothing appeared by her feet. Especially not a sparkly banana. "Ha!" She said. "You see this?" She pointed to the ground beneath her. "Absolutely nothing! Wanna know why? Because magicka can just CHOOSE to fail on you. I was gonna summon a fruit. One that makes you sparkle. To show you all how dumb magicka is. You could just walk to a fruit plant and PICK one. You wouldn't even look dumb after. Have your legs ever just chosen to fail on you? No? Then go kick a magicka user in the shins. Because they're all weak. And lazy. And dumb."

Kalama scuffed the dirt with a foot. "Y'see, I WOULD attack Aure and the bonesniffer judge next to him. But that would be cheating. And lazy. And I'm neither of those. Because people who use their strength are ten times better. A magic user in MY spot would've done that. They would've sat here and done it. But not me! Because I'm better than them." Kalama huffed, turning around. "And thats my act. I'll see you Bonesniffers later. I better get first, by the way. I deserve it! If I dont, I'll know why."

Kalama scratched the ground, kicking up dirt and dust. She began to strut off the stage, head and tail held high. She paused. "I'm still taking those who want to join my warband! Magicka users will get shins kicked on sight!" And with that, the chicken resumed her strut, going off to who knows where. Possibly to scream in an old abandoned tunnel shaft.

think "speak"

Late spectating lol

Twisted The (wonderous) Cat was late. Of course, it's hard to be late to an event you didn't know existed, but you get the idea.

The siamese had wandered in from Tunnel I, which had essentially become her home after so wonderfully beating the shit out of Madhukar a few days back. She'd never bothered to explore past it's carved walls-- after all, why bother? Stupid-Mad came from beyond, which probably meant everyone else who wasn't a dumb deer was just as idiotic.

Of course, curiosity eventually killed The Cat, and she stepped into Polaris for the first time. Beautiful crystals leapt to the ceiling, the very air was charged with magic-- 'Yeah, yeah, I get it. Sparkles and magic, woooow. I'm soooo scared.' The kitten didn't bother with taking in the view. She just kicked any rocks in her way and moved on.

There was some odd blue structure in the distance, and the clamor of voices around it. Huh. Her long ears pricked in that direction as she padded closer. Maybe there'd be more gembounds to fight! The Cat squeezed through the crowd, her twisted tail slipping between bodies to get a good view up front--

'...Maddy?!'

What-- that little brat was here?! Doing what? Little sparkles for the audience? The siamese terror wasn't as sore as the day they fought, but she still remembered their little kitty fight with a smile. She wanted to waltz right up and smack that smile off her dumb face again, but held back. There were a lot of people here. A lot. And most of them seemed a lot more dangerous than a one-month old kitten with anger issues.

Twisted watched the rest of the spectacle in a sort of dumbfounded-boredom. After the ('dumb, stupid, ugly--') kitten came some weird goat with shadows (boring, but a little impressive, she had to admit), some funny deer (boring), and a weird furry thing with funny stone (BORING). Caves, was this all magic?! What kind of competition did she wander into? That's it, she's leaving, this place is dumb and stupid and--

And then a chicken walked onstage.

Her attention skyrocketed the moment she started clucking. She went on a tangent against magic, and her pupils turned to saucers. And a warband? A WARBAND? A small, giddy squeal escaped her muzzle. Twisted wanted to be in a warband! it'd be so awesome! So, so awesome! And then she could punch Mad in the face, but not just alone but with an entire group!

The kitten kneaded the floor in pure excitement. Forget all the others: She had to meet Kalama oneday.

Pride watched as the various contenders stepped up before the judges, and he took careful, fair-minded note of each of them. Deli didn't speak further, and for that he was grateful; it was difficult enough to focus on these acts as it was.

Mercurius' story was heartwarming, and Pride beamed at him, happy for him--that his magic had, it seemed, succeeded. He gave a bow of his head, having been briefly lost to the story. He tucked that performance away up with those of Sebastian and Svartis, and watched as the next one came. "Lovely, Mercurius, as always--thank you for sharing it with everyone here."

Madhukar: a savage, spitting little kitten, and Pride had to perk a brow, at her, but an amused and indulgent one. Despite her tiny size she sparked as well as spat, the crash flattening back his ears and tensing him in surprise; and when she was finished with her display he praised her warmly. "Very impressive. You have great potential, thank you." His voice was perhaps a little too loud after the noise of the thunder, though.

Azrael's was up next, and Pride bowed his silvery rack deeply to the demon-creature's thanks. "I am glad you have recovered," was his only answer, and then the show began. And what a show it was: certainly a top contender, with the entire room first plunging into darkness and then seeming to ignite with flame. The demonic roar and flap of wings added a touch of theatrical flair, though perhaps the "I am Darkness" had been a little over the top but Pride found himself good-naturedly amused at it nonetheless. He put this one away in his mind with the other three as potential winners, and dipped his head again. "Spectacular!"

Artume he thought he'd seen before, but he wasn't sure: a small black buck, kind-looking. She was covered, in moments, with first sprouts and then flowers that bloomed across her coat, and he warmed to this: his family tended toward growth and nurturing, and he always appreciated seeing it in others. "A noble magic, and a strong display," he remarked, with a bow of his head.

Up next was Fisher, with crackling electricity in a phenomenal display. Pride hadn't noticed him setting up during Artume's show, his attention wholly on the performer, and now he looked with interest over this performance. The slap of metal to fur startled him, at first, and for a moment he feared that Fisher had somehow hurt himself--but no, it was armor, a deliberate display and an impressive one. It was a much faster application of it than Pride's tedious use of telekinesis, and though it didn't occur to him that the magnetic field might have to be maintained, perhaps it wouldn't have mattered: this was a show, after all, and all about power and theatricality and Fisher was clearly a master of both. The surge of power with its accompanying crack and then the dispersal of it were both strong--certainly competing with the magics of fire and ice already displayed.

And then... Kalama. When her tirade first began, Pride blinked and leaned in quietly toward Aure, murmuring with dry amusement: "...Friend of yours?" As her rant went on, he tried a few times, but mildly and without much heart in it (because it was both baffling and mildly hilarious) to interrupt her. "I really do not think-" "Do you mind perhaps-" "This is a magic competition..." and so forth. When she'd finished her... half-magical tirade, he simply shook his head in bemusement.

"Well now. That's-... Done. Thank you all very much for your participation; please give we judges a few moments to decide the winners, but I must say, all contestants have been both impressive and a delight to watch, and I'd like to thank you all for teaching us a few things today." He offered a warm bow of his head yet again, then turned toward Aure and Damask, leaning in, a little. "So, what do you think?" he asked them, quietly.

damask's attention was allocated as such: half for her father, still tense, silent again with only pride's praise to compensate for them both; half for artume, whose floral display was nice, but, well, profoundly underwhelming; and a slice of each for the glint of movement offstage. it was a sloppy division, and she fought to keep her eyes on the show. anywhere but auré. as artume finished, damask returned that subtle incline of the head, then switched over to ... oh, that's ash's dad for sure. near-identical, if you traded in the wings and feathers for a heavy-handed map of scars. also, a wholly different breed of charisma. she leaned closer, features sharp with piquing intrigue as fisher began. plates of metal snapped into place; sparks flew, gemstones crackled; the lights of the arena fizzled in and out, shadows held at bay all the while with a single crystalline lantern. now, that's how it's done. and — don't you dare look, but she could feel it rolling off him: auré was into this. enough to snap him out of it, one hundred percent. "electrifying, fisher; thank you," she told him. for that.

which left ... kalama.

oh, she was absolutely surreal. damask couldn't help but recoil a little as a wing shot up to point her way. seen me twice? when? b — bonesniffer ... ? a little help, here? lo and behold, the other judges were unperturbed. she relaxed; all right, yes, fine, good. no clear and present danger, only the puffed-up fury of a jilted lover. and she knew a liar when she saw one. but the words just kept coming. she was drifting, drifting — hm. father, daughter. that is a little biased, huh? why're you up here, again? all of a sudden, she found herself shifting from side to side, eyes afloat, claws tapping lightly at the floor. how many would've been more qualified? you got a number for that? okay, so traditionally, a phrase like "that's my act" signified the completion of said act — what? you running low on distractions? a little restless? can't stay focused? no, she'd been counting, see?, six sentences, thirty-nine words, and then, only then was kalama finished. that was it, the last performance. damask shook her head, but not so much the way that pride had — more as if to ... chase off a fly. "well done, everyone," the accipiter called out. "it's been an honor watching you work." she forced a smile for the crowd, then turned neatly to the other judges.

"so, what do you think?"

you're gonna speak first? seriously? you sure you wanna do that? no, but pride had asked, and auré was hesitating. she started to look at him, get a hit of courage, only to — quit leaning on your daddy, kid — usher herself away and meet their eyes equally. inhale, exhale. "the question is: are we judging based on who’s got talent, or who knows what to do with it?" she let that hang for a moment, regarding her fellows as a lawyer might a jury. here, her voice picked up to a rat-a-tat pace. "quantitatively — in terms of skill, power, objective success — sebastian's magic was strongest and most consistent. then, fisher. azrael as well, though as noted, one of his attempts did fail. there's our top three. numerically."

another breath, followed by a clear of her throat. "however. auré, you said sebastian's routine was a rerun?" she glanced at him for confirmation, now. cool. businesslike. "and azrael, he could've got" — (my father) — "someone" — (killed) — "hurt." stop thinking. keep talking. "those are penalties for me. conversely, answer this: have you ever seen anything like what fisher did? and a word for svartis — ..." oh, that little number put stars in your eyes, and it shows. she snipped away the emotion and continued. "his act was excellent. more creative, impressive than all the rest. not as potent, but i'd like to think there's more to it than that, and i believe he deserves to place. i'll second the highest vote in his favor. otherwise ... fisher, sebastian, and azrael, in that order."

the facts, she trusted. those were irrefutable. but opinions? her opinions? the bird of prey coughed, if softly, and slowed herself down. "that was a lot. i apologize. your thoughts?"

mmm cw for lowkey ptsd panic attack

"All right," and yes he is — or, he will be. He had to be, to find certainty in his own judgement. disregard all the various reminders of events already long-past and out of the conscious memory of the public. It felt as if he were the only one dwelling on it anymore. Giggle'd been there, but she wasn't so affected. Neither was Eythan. Hell, Pride was sitting here without a single grimace on his face — Aure smiled as the pale lion's act ended, offering a brief "very beautiful, Mercurius" — and just going about his business. His mother said it was okay to feel worried and nervous sometimes and particularly about those events, but…

Wink wink, nudge nudge. Bright eyes darted down to Damask, willfully providing a distraction. Oh, right — their next act, a thunderous kitten with magical prowess mirroring Wilder's (oops, another piece of that puzzle.) Self-determined and mighty. Lots of promise and… frankly, adorableness in there. Aure leaned — proverbially — into the distraction, smiling thankfully and giving Madhukar his praise: "strong magic! You'll only get stronger with time." Should… he be encouraging an act of superiority?

Azrael emerged, and it took every last shred of will in the young King's body not to retreat into his own mind then and there. The demon bowed and offered his thanks, but Aure could only see hollowness. A vehement roar as he flew at their ilk, even-freed. The hybrid hadn't missed his flippant smashing of an innocent red-striped creature. Damask's warning cut sharply through his stream of consciousness. Gouts of flame crackled overhead just as he obliged, crouching low to the ground. Only when the darkness faded did he rise. Ears pinned fast to his skull and rose strictly through voluntary action. His senses had already reached out and found not a trace of fungal matter here. Only on that deer —

Out came Artume, carefully nurturing flowers along her hide, and little more panache than that. Pride said all that was necessary, and Aure watched her departing form almost mournfully. It was warm, safe magic.

Then… there was Fisher. A showman in his own right, crowing loudly and proudly; dragging bits of armor out from the crowd and attaching them to himself; utilizing his own crystalline props, sending the cave back into a brief spell of darkness. This, at least, was a natural sort of darkness. The Spire's intense glow cast a strong light on the arena from behind, and hid the mustelid's exit well. Aure was enraptured and enthralled at once despite his circular panic.

An overfamiliar chicken strutted into view, feathers puffed in preparation for a poor attempt to make just as much of a fool out of herself as she had on a past "fateful" day. Name-calling, flourishes, prancing about… checking all of the boxes. Bright eyes glanced sidelong towards Damask, rocking slightly. Overcome with a peculiar need to provide his own distraction, the young King laughed drily (terribly) and said, "at least I don't have to be the one to make a fool out of her this time." Only for the judges' ears, of course. No need for Kalama to hear him and get the spotlight she wants.

All said and done, Pride gave pre-closing remarks and turned to his fellows. In Aure's hesitation, Damask pushed herself forwards. A distant glimmer of eagerness danced in the young King's gut, but he couldn't bring himself to make initial… points, or anything of the sort. He provided his mute confirmation about Sebastian's act: a single, quick nod. (Pay no mind to the slight sting of being called by his name, as opposed to Dad or Father, but he did his best to push it down for the sake of "professionalism.") Don't worry so much about it. Easy to say, hard to do.

Regardless, his interjections — "Fisher and Svartis both… displayed things I've never thought possible." Clean, smooth… so far so good… "but Sebastian…. did do that — same thing, but set himself on fire this time. If we're going with creativity and strength then I disagree with him being first? He should still receive..." The young King shrugged, swallowing, "placement for it." His wings shuffled at his sides, primaries clicking against one another, nodding towards Damask — "I agree with you." Plain and simple, he'd just been building up the same points as her, albeit less succinctly.

Didn't even mention Azrael's act, for fear of hitting some breaking point he didn't know the location of.

When any further talk was done and they'd decided on the stars of the show, Aure twisted to look at Damask to his left and offered with a peripheral glance at Pride - "do you want to announce first place?"

@Pride

He listened to them, quiet, mulling his own opinions over in his mind. Some of the performances--Mercurius for one example--had been good, but not on the same level as the spectacular displays.

To his mind, the final decisions would be between Azrael, Svartis, Fisher, and Sebastian.

"Sebastian's was a very good display," he murmured, and then glanced to Damask. "I would say we are judging based on control of powerful magics, and how they are utilized in display. Theatricality counts for something, certainly. As for Sebastian," looks like Nassir "-you're right in saying it's nearly the identical act from last year. It is impressive, but perhaps not... absolute winner material as a near-repeat performance?" Still, igniting himself in roaring fire had been something to see.

"Azrael's was impressive, powerful and theatrical magic both, but he did slightly less than the others. Svartis' was all-around memorable, I think, and in a year's time, his, Sebastian's and Azrael's are likely to be the ones I remember most. Fisher's showed admirable control of magic, though I don't wholly understand what it was that he did," he added. The armor had certainly been a flashy display but the rest he wasn't quite sure of, and he still wasn't sure it had been as many spellcasts as the rest had used.

"There is nothing saying we cannot tie a place;" he added thoughtfully, after a moment of shifting from one foot to the other. "Perhaps... Svartis, and then Fisher?" They both held his act in high esteem, it seemed. "We can always tie Azrael and Sebastian for third?" A light shrug, and then he looked to Damask. "Feel free; I can announce third, if you are both in agreement on placings."

@Damask

wait. (...) hold up a second. (???) they actually agreed with her? (holy shit.)

their opinions did differ a little on pride's end; he didn't seem quite as thrilled with fisher, and to her surprise, he suggested a tie for third place. it was fair, it made sense, nothing wrong with another placement, but azrael — (note the way auré hadn't so much as mentioned his name, as if he couldn't bring himself to ...) — contender or not, he'd failed and hidden it, chosen shock value over the safety of twenty. did he really deserve — wait, didn't you bring him up? ... yeah. she had. and overall? she had their support as to what really mattered: talent and creativity, in tandem. which put svartis, with his vanishing scales and curtains of snow, in —

"do you want to announce first place?"

... damn straight she did. euphoria leapt like a fish in her chest. (after what he did to you, though? sure, you deserved it, but he's feeding you scraps, get it? just enough to hit that perfect weight between starving and satisfied: hungry.) "a-all right." (you stuttered you stuttered you stuttered —) get gone. "thank you, dad. pride." damask withdrew from the other judges and faced the assembly. black-and-white wings unfurled and refolded in a call for order; she held herself upright, tail brushing the floor behind her to counter. showtime. the accipiter breathed in deep, filling her lungs and rousing her stone, begging pleading imploring for the volume she needed ... and it thrummed, a surge of energy straight to the throat. yes. yes. yes. oh, she couldn't make it — do everything she wanted it to, not here, not now, not safe, not like anywhere was safe, but — this was so much better. her voice rang clear and strong, projected high to carry over the crowd.

"we appreciate your patience, folks. you made it difficult for us to decide." not entirely true — she, for one, had known her picks from the moment fisher finished — but ... hey, now. it was the decent thing to say. another breath. "in first place." her attention traveled from one side of the arena to the other, then doubled back, settling on: "svartis. please come forward." here, she stepped up to the edge of the podium, as if to meet the dragon halfway. for all that she fought to maintain her professionalism, damask's features softened, eyes shimmering with — unmistakably, something like awe. it wasn't altogether hard to guess that she'd been the one to nominate him. "you've shown daring, skill, and ingenuity today. i think i speak for everyone when i say that you blew me away. congratulations on winning this year's magicka competition."

she bowed her head low and fell back to rejoin the other judges. temples pounding. feathers shivering. heart out loud in her ears. an irrepressible glance at her father — go ahead, it said, but also: did i do okay?