He's not entirely sure why; by all logic, the place shouldn't be the most comfortable to him. It's not the cold - that he's more than used to, from dealing with Steppe winters - or the towering heights of the frozen city. It's definitely not the crowds - not exactly, anyway, because Velin loves the energy of a bustling city. But Ishgard is filled almost exclusively with Elezen - by all rights, with no family intent on welcoming, he should feel at least as much of an outsider as he always did back home. The shivering streets of the Brume tug at his soul, whenever he walks through - he's just one man, and kill primals he might be able to, but there's only so many hours in one day he can use to help people - and sometimes the pressure makes Velin want nothing more than to run away. There's worse pressure from those who know what he did in the Dragonsong War but don't know him, who hail him as a distant hero on a pedestal. And, well... he has bad memories here. Plenty of them.
But good ones too.
"It's the rebuilding, I think," the Miqo'te says; his smile is bittersweet, but there's more sugar than there is sorrow. His breath puffs out in clouds of white. "I couldn't stay away if I knew I could help, and once I was here I remembered all over again why you loved this place."
"Why I did, too," he adds (corrects?) after a moment. "...I wonder what you'd think of all the dragons who've moved in?"
Ysayle, Velin knows, would have loved it. The deepest desire of one person, the hearth and home of another - and neither of them around to see it. (So many others, too, that Velin didn't know as well - dragon and human. All of them as important to someone, in some time, as the people Velin remembers.)
(But there's thousands of people in that city that are still alive. Thousands still struggling along, day by day, with their own hopes and dreams and deepest desires. That's what has to matter.)
Velin stands, stretching; the snow glimmers under his feet. The skies are clear, for once - cold, as Coerthas always is, but you can actually see ten feet in front of your face. The spires in the distance are as awe-inspiring as always; behind him, Velin's footsteps trail down the hill and into the distance until they vanish.
Velin groans and leans over the side, watching water whip by. It doesn't help much. It's better than standing at the prow of the boat, but...
"Can we take an airship next time?" he asks, plaintively. Lyse claps him on the shoulder, and Velin swallows roughly and makes a face.
"It's not that bad, is it?" she responds, grinning at him. Velin starts to respond with a vigorous nod, then reconsiders halfway through as his gut tries to squirm up his throat.
"It's that bad," he says instead. "I'd take another break on yol-back, but..."
At this point the up-and-down motion of flying will be just as bad. It's weird, that he can normally go for as long as he wants in flight without feeling sick, but a little time in the ocean and he's wrecked for any kind of transportation.
Velin drapes despondantly over the railing. He's being a little overdramatic, sure, alright, fine. But look. What do you expect when you drop a cat in the middle of the ocean? He's never been surrounded by this much water in his life.
Lyse shakes her head a little in disbelief. "How did you ever fight Leviathan?"
"That was closer to shore!" Velin shudders slightly. "...and I emptied my stomach while they were towing me in." Both ways, though he didn't really have much left the second go-round.
Lyse squeezes his shoulder, sympathetically. "You'll get used to it if you hang in there," she offers. Which Velin knows is true, but it's not keeping him from misery now. He grimaces at her.
They stand together in silence for a while, watching dark shapes move under the clear water. The wake the ship leaves behind mostly keeps wavekin away, but now that Lyse's reminded him of Leviathan - Velin keeps thinking he sees a huge, long shape following them. He knows it's just his imagination, but every time the corner of his eye tricks him again, it sends a pulse of adrenaline down his spine.
"You grew up next to Doma, didn't you?"
Velin hums softly, and discovers - to his relief - that humming helps his stomach. A little bit. "Closer than to Eorzea, at least - but I've never been. I followed the other side of the river when I left home, and then headed toward Dalmasca." His tail lashes once, and he huffs, softly. "If I'd known what the Garlean Empire was like, I'd probably have run the other way. They've never really bothered with the Steppe."
Devout as the Xaela tribes are to Azim and Nhaama, no one in living memory - or in other tribes' oral history - has summoned a primal. If they were ever taught by the Ascians, it's been hundreds of years; and besides, few tribes believe they have a connection special enough to one of their gods that they'd be chosen over the other tribes.
(Though Velin wonders, sometimes, about Bardam -)
Abruptly, the Mi'qote remembers that unlike him, Lyse hasn't had the luck to have her homeland left alone by the Garleans. He winces to himself, and abruptly starts up again with "But I'm getting distracted. We had visitors from Doma sometimes - traders..."
The adventurer squadron under Velin has long since gotten used to him being... eccentric, as commanders go. It's only to be expected - Velin never really followed the Serpent's usual chain of command and promotion pipeline, and he's the Warrior of Light besides. One of the requirements for the squadron, before papers are even given to Velin, is to be self-motivated - which is a good thing, as Velin's responsibilities often have him vanishing from Gridania for months at a time.
But when he does show up and take them on a mission...
Case in point on eccentricity: today? Today Velin, the lancer, has brought a gunblade.
"So I got one of these off a Garlean a while back," the Warrior of Light announces cheerfully. "I wanna see how it works, so we're going to test it out today!"
The three members of his light party all glance at each other, then back at him. Hesitantly, Cecily offers, "Weren't we supposed to be hunting down a voidsent today?"
Velin waves his hand dismissively. "You three could handle that by yourselves no problem, I've seen you work. I'm just here for the ride."
Toragana preens at the compliment, but Cecily lets our her breath in a faint, exasparated sigh. That might be true (okay, by this point it is true - she's so much more experienced than when she first signed up), but Velin is never just along for the ride - no matter his protests. He always wants to help.
Velin hefts the blade in his hand and swings it a couple times, testing the wait. Then he lifts it and sights down the barrel. For a moment Cecily sees him stick the corner of his tongue out of one side of his mouth.
-bang-
The shot ricochets off a stone wall, and Velin staggers back a step before restabilizing. He shakes his hand out. "Right, recoil, gotta remember that..."
(Behind the rest of them, Samga glances up at the ceiling in despair.)
"So, now that we've given the voidsent fair warning - hey, any of you want to take a try at this later?" Velin seems entirely unconcerned by the fact that he hasn't brought a replacement weapon.
Toragana's hand snaps into the air, and she nearly bounces in place, teeth bared in a viciously excited grin.
4 - Clinch (Would you believe I spent way more time on this than the other prompts. By like. Hours)
See also: The Minstrel's Ballad: Ataraxia's Epitaph
The Wardens' light has won free.
— In-game description
The Melody Unending is a level 80 trial introduced in patch 5.0 with Shadowbringers.
Contents
1. Guide
1.1 Phase 1
1.2 Phase 2
1.3 Phase 3
Guide
Phase 1:
Unlimited Empathy is unavoidable party-wide damage.
Comfort in Isolation will place AoE markers on all players and require the party to spread out.
The Sound, Hummed bombards the arena with short-lived line AoEs under random players' feet, matching the orientation to the direction the player is facing.
Harmonious Chorus will happen partway through The Sound, Hummed and spawn a number of slow-moving feathers in the arena. After a short while, a small AoE will appear underneath each and inflict damage and debuffs.
Path Homewards is a spiral AoE centering on Ataraxia.
Evening the Odds targets a healer with tether. This tether should be picked up by a DPS; it inflicts moderate damage and inflicts a debuff that temporarily reduces all heals cast and received to 0%.
Offering of Peace will inflict a number of debuffs and a 14 second Stilling status effect on the main tank. This effect must be Esuna'd or it will turn into Petrification.
Except for Offering of Peace, mechanics repeat until Phase 2.
Phase 2:
At about 70% HP, Ataraxia will move to the center of the stage, become immune, and start filling a "Freedom from Passion" meter. Its pair of small lower wings will become targetable as Left and Right Tranquil Wing. A tank, two DPS, and a healer will be randomly assigned to each wing with a "Left Feather" or "Right Feather" debuff, and will only be able to inflict damage on or take status effects and debuffs from that wing.
De-escalation applies the At Peace debuff to players. Players lose this debuff if they take any action that inflicts damage, including auto-attacking - watch out for this cast.
Pacify will down anyone who has no At Peace debuff.
Clamouring of Bells gives three players a Hear no Evil debuff and one player a bell marker above their head with a countdown. Hear no Evil players must stack on the bell player and wait until the countdown goes off to clear the debuff, or they will be downed.
Vision of Rapture gives three players a See No Evil debuff and one players a gaze marker. See No Evil players must face the player with the gaze marker, or they will be downed.
Overwhelming Will is a knockback effect that shoves players to the edge of the arena. It can be nullified with anti-knockback skills. It is followed shortly after by:
Overwhelming Courage is a massive doughnut-shaped AoE on the wing. It inflicts no damage but does inflict Heavy and Slow, and is imediately followed by:
Overwhelming Light drops a large AoE under each player. Failing to escape the AoE in time will inflict a short period of Petrification.
When both Tranquil Wings are destroyed, Ataraxia will perform The Sound, at Full Volume for heavy party-wide damage. If "Freedom from Passion" is at 100% the party will wipe.
Phase 3:
Ataraxia will shed its upper half and spawn an untargetable Remnants of Turmoil above its body. The party will need to watch the Remnants to determine the effects of new mechanics in this stage.
Target for Consecration will mark a random player aside from the tank with three glowing stars above their head. After a short time, the stars will start to count down by vanishing. Based on the weapon that the Remnants is holding, Ataraxia will perform a different attack once the countdown ends.
If Remnants is holding a lance, Ataraxia will perform Sanctifying Dive. The party should stack to share damage.
If Remnants is holding a blade, Ataraxia will perform Sanctifying Spin. The party should get as far away from the targeted player as possible. The targeted player will take no damage, but any non-tanks nearby will go down unless highly shielded.
If Remnants has a globe hovering over one hand, Ataraxia will perform Sanctifying Sunlight, which will follow the targeted player with rapid, high-damage AoEs for several seconds.
A Summoning of Stars will summon glowing stars at random spots in the arena in three sets - white, purple, and orange. Remnants will point at three directions in order. After a few seconds, the stars will fire in those respective directions, with short pauses between each color/direction.
After performing all the above mechanics at least once, Ataraxia will start repeating these and the mechanics from Phase 1.
At roughly 10% HP, Remnants will begin casting The Final Despair, Calmed. If Ataraxia is not defeated before the cast finishes, Ataraxia will follow it with Entelecheia which will wipe the party.
A little moogle told us that a certain well-known luminary was seen entering the door of a minor Ishgardian house last evening - one that's become far less minor recently, if you take our meaning. Was it an invitation to dinner, or an invitation to something more? Either way, it wasn't long before something had two important personages exiting the door and running across the city - no rest for the servants of the public.
The Chattering Chocobo has also been reliably informed that a certain other well-placed lady has a regular rendezvous in a notorious club in the depths of the Brume...
8 - Clamor; Listen, I wanted to write some body horror to go with 4
The worst part of it all is when the screaming turns into song.
Velin's mouth is shut, one hand clasped over it; the skin of his arms is covered in cracks of blazing light, burning from underneat like he's been eaten away from the inside out. But from between his fingers there's a humming, one that quickly grows as loud as were his screams. It echoes unnaturally, sounding like it's backed by a choir - there's a little bit of Ishgard to it, and a little bit the chants of the Steppe, but most of all it hurts to hear. Alisaie claps her hands over her ears, eyes brimming with involuntary tears; none of the others seem any better equipped to bear it.
- no. There is one, Ryne, whose hands are pressed over her mouth instead. It's in contrast to Y'shtola, who not only has her ears folded back but also her eyes squinted half-shut, like she's staring into the sun itself.
Velin's on his knees already, but he somehow shoves himself over backwards, trying to scramble backwards from the other Scions. His left hand seems almost fused to his face, but he pulls himself with his right arm - until it shatters from underneath him like it's made of crystal. He falls onto his back; instead of a scream, the song just gets louder for a few notes. They're unbearably sweet, and they burn the very air around him.
Velin's other arm shatters, leaving behind just the hand over his mouth, cut off just below the wrist with a neat glowing oval. He thrashes, bright white lines trailing from under his visor like tears. With another shattering peal, a giant mass of white feathers tears free from his lower half, shredding his legs like so many little pieces of glass. Every little twitch flicks what might be blood over Vauthry's - Innocence's - floor, but instead of red it's as blindingly bright as the rest. Just glancing at it burns afterimages into your eyes.
What's left of Velin's former body goes limp, breathing only faintly. From the mass of feathers - very slowly unfolding, and growing by the moment - emerges a hand and arm stretching toward the sky. But there's something a little bit off about the joints, and it's stretching out from where the Miqo'te's legs would have been -
If not for Thancred - in truth, if not for Ryne - perhaps some of the Scions would have stayed just a touch too long, frozen in shock. Long enough that they would have been subsumed. But Ryne takes one step forward, reaching her own hand out in distress, and Thancred reanimates. He grabs her arm and tugs her toward the stairs, yelling, "Run!"
They run.
Every one of them will look back, at least once. Not a one will say what they saw.
Feathers unfurl towards the unending light of the sky.
"You're going to have to decide on a cape name eventually, you know.Or someone else will come up with one for you."
"Eventually," Velin allows, grinning. Truthfully, he hasn't decided on one yet because he can't come up with one he likes - naming things apparently isn't his forte. Not that it's surprising. Sarnai was the one who named the family dog, and the kitten their parents got after they moved out too. "Is it really a big deal if someone else does?"
Alisaie sighs, exasperated. "If you don't mind ending up with a name like Shoelace or Stain or something, sure."
Velin huffs out a small breath, his bangs flying up for a second. He's still smiling, though. "Well -"
The sound of shattering glass breaks the (relative) silence of the night. Velin perks up immediately, jumping down from the fire escape. "Come on!"
Alisaie drops the subject immediately, probably even more excited about the prospect of action than Velin. She yanks her masked hat back down over her head and drops, racing him to the sound.
Tiny little lights like stars start sparkling around Velin even before they've arrived, like constellations springing into being around his body - it's not subtle, not even a little, but then again... the Red Mage and "V"-while-cape-name-is-pending don't tend to aim for subtle. Alisiae herself is generating plenty of glow, pulling her glowing sword construct out of thin air.
And then, just as they turn the corner to see the smashed storefront window - one of Velin's stars implodes into a faintly-glowing person, popping out of thin air. Both his and Alisaie's eyes widen.
"Is that Armsmaster?" she hisses at "V" - somehow, her steps don't slow, though Velin does stumble for a moment in shock.
"Yeah -" Velin hisses back. The Armsmaster-duplicate tosses a spare halberd in Velin's direction - absently, he sticks out a hand to catch it, without looking. It seems less like he could sense it or has especially good coordination, more like he just knew his summoned ally would throw it exactly where his hand would end up. "I guess whatever we're running into tonight is more serious than usual - be careful."
On a normal day, Velin's power doesn't even create copies of capes - just standard, normal humans. Sometimes it's someone burly, sometimes it's someone who knows how to follow a trail, sometimes it's a kid who can crawl through a window too small for them and unlock a door - but normal. The few times his power has spit out parahumans it's been pretty minor powers, and it's always meant they're going to have a rough night. Velin's never had a big name like Armsmaster show up.
Until today.
Alisaie sets her jaw, dulling the glow of her weapon - Velin's matrix of stars has vanished by now - and they slow as they reach the window. Both hesitate; then, though Velin strangles a muffled protest, Alisaie vaults inside.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
1 - Crux
He's not entirely sure why; by all logic, the place shouldn't be the most comfortable to him. It's not the cold - that he's more than used to, from dealing with Steppe winters - or the towering heights of the frozen city. It's definitely not the crowds - not exactly, anyway, because Velin loves the energy of a bustling city. But Ishgard is filled almost exclusively with Elezen - by all rights, with no family intent on welcoming, he should feel at least as much of an outsider as he always did back home. The shivering streets of the Brume tug at his soul, whenever he walks through - he's just one man, and kill primals he might be able to, but there's only so many hours in one day he can use to help people - and sometimes the pressure makes Velin want nothing more than to run away. There's worse pressure from those who know what he did in the Dragonsong War but don't know him, who hail him as a distant hero on a pedestal. And, well... he has bad memories here. Plenty of them.
But good ones too.
"It's the rebuilding, I think," the Miqo'te says; his smile is bittersweet, but there's more sugar than there is sorrow. His breath puffs out in clouds of white. "I couldn't stay away if I knew I could help, and once I was here I remembered all over again why you loved this place."
"Why I did, too," he adds (corrects?) after a moment. "...I wonder what you'd think of all the dragons who've moved in?"
Ysayle, Velin knows, would have loved it. The deepest desire of one person, the hearth and home of another - and neither of them around to see it. (So many others, too, that Velin didn't know as well - dragon and human. All of them as important to someone, in some time, as the people Velin remembers.)
(But there's thousands of people in that city that are still alive. Thousands still struggling along, day by day, with their own hopes and dreams and deepest desires. That's what has to matter.)
Velin stands, stretching; the snow glimmers under his feet. The skies are clear, for once - cold, as Coerthas always is, but you can actually see ten feet in front of your face. The spires in the distance are as awe-inspiring as always; behind him, Velin's footsteps trail down the hill and into the distance until they vanish.
"It's a nice view, anyway."
2 - Sway
"Can we take an airship next time?" he asks, plaintively. Lyse claps him on the shoulder, and Velin swallows roughly and makes a face.
"It's not that bad, is it?" she responds, grinning at him. Velin starts to respond with a vigorous nod, then reconsiders halfway through as his gut tries to squirm up his throat.
"It's that bad," he says instead. "I'd take another break on yol-back, but..."
At this point the up-and-down motion of flying will be just as bad. It's weird, that he can normally go for as long as he wants in flight without feeling sick, but a little time in the ocean and he's wrecked for any kind of transportation.
Velin drapes despondantly over the railing. He's being a little overdramatic, sure, alright, fine. But look. What do you expect when you drop a cat in the middle of the ocean? He's never been surrounded by this much water in his life.
Lyse shakes her head a little in disbelief. "How did you ever fight Leviathan?"
"That was closer to shore!" Velin shudders slightly. "...and I emptied my stomach while they were towing me in." Both ways, though he didn't really have much left the second go-round.
Lyse squeezes his shoulder, sympathetically. "You'll get used to it if you hang in there," she offers. Which Velin knows is true, but it's not keeping him from misery now. He grimaces at her.
They stand together in silence for a while, watching dark shapes move under the clear water. The wake the ship leaves behind mostly keeps wavekin away, but now that Lyse's reminded him of Leviathan - Velin keeps thinking he sees a huge, long shape following them. He knows it's just his imagination, but every time the corner of his eye tricks him again, it sends a pulse of adrenaline down his spine.
"You grew up next to Doma, didn't you?"
Velin hums softly, and discovers - to his relief - that humming helps his stomach. A little bit. "Closer than to Eorzea, at least - but I've never been. I followed the other side of the river when I left home, and then headed toward Dalmasca." His tail lashes once, and he huffs, softly. "If I'd known what the Garlean Empire was like, I'd probably have run the other way. They've never really bothered with the Steppe."
Devout as the Xaela tribes are to Azim and Nhaama, no one in living memory - or in other tribes' oral history - has summoned a primal. If they were ever taught by the Ascians, it's been hundreds of years; and besides, few tribes believe they have a connection special enough to one of their gods that they'd be chosen over the other tribes.
(Though Velin wonders, sometimes, about Bardam -)
Abruptly, the Mi'qote remembers that unlike him, Lyse hasn't had the luck to have her homeland left alone by the Garleans. He winces to himself, and abruptly starts up again with "But I'm getting distracted. We had visitors from Doma sometimes - traders..."
3 - Muster
But when he does show up and take them on a mission...
Case in point on eccentricity: today? Today Velin, the lancer, has brought a gunblade.
"So I got one of these off a Garlean a while back," the Warrior of Light announces cheerfully. "I wanna see how it works, so we're going to test it out today!"
The three members of his light party all glance at each other, then back at him. Hesitantly, Cecily offers, "Weren't we supposed to be hunting down a voidsent today?"
Velin waves his hand dismissively. "You three could handle that by yourselves no problem, I've seen you work. I'm just here for the ride."
Toragana preens at the compliment, but Cecily lets our her breath in a faint, exasparated sigh. That might be true (okay, by this point it is true - she's so much more experienced than when she first signed up), but Velin is never just along for the ride - no matter his protests. He always wants to help.
Velin hefts the blade in his hand and swings it a couple times, testing the wait. Then he lifts it and sights down the barrel. For a moment Cecily sees him stick the corner of his tongue out of one side of his mouth.
-bang-
The shot ricochets off a stone wall, and Velin staggers back a step before restabilizing. He shakes his hand out. "Right, recoil, gotta remember that..."
(Behind the rest of them, Samga glances up at the ceiling in despair.)
"So, now that we've given the voidsent fair warning - hey, any of you want to take a try at this later?" Velin seems entirely unconcerned by the fact that he hasn't brought a replacement weapon.
Toragana's hand snaps into the air, and she nearly bounces in place, teeth bared in a viciously excited grin.
4 - Clinch (Would you believe I spent way more time on this than the other prompts. By like. Hours)
The Melody Unending
See also: The Minstrel's Ballad: Ataraxia's Epitaph
The Melody Unending is a level 80 trial introduced in patch 5.0 with Shadowbringers.
1.1 Phase 1
1.2 Phase 2
1.3 Phase 3
Guide
Phase 1:
Except for Offering of Peace, mechanics repeat until Phase 2.
Phase 2:
At about 70% HP, Ataraxia will move to the center of the stage, become immune, and start filling a "Freedom from Passion" meter. Its pair of small lower wings will become targetable as Left and Right Tranquil Wing. A tank, two DPS, and a healer will be randomly assigned to each wing with a "Left Feather" or "Right Feather" debuff, and will only be able to inflict damage on or take status effects and debuffs from that wing.
When both Tranquil Wings are destroyed, Ataraxia will perform The Sound, at Full Volume for heavy party-wide damage. If "Freedom from Passion" is at 100% the party will wipe.
Phase 3:
Ataraxia will shed its upper half and spawn an untargetable Remnants of Turmoil above its body. The party will need to watch the Remnants to determine the effects of new mechanics in this stage.
After performing all the above mechanics at least once, Ataraxia will start repeating these and the mechanics from Phase 1.
At roughly 10% HP, Remnants will begin casting The Final Despair, Calmed. If Ataraxia is not defeated before the cast finishes, Ataraxia will follow it with Entelecheia which will wipe the party.
5 - Matter of Fact
The Chattering Chocobo has also been reliably informed that a certain other well-placed lady has a regular rendezvous in a notorious club in the depths of the Brume...
8 - Clamor; Listen, I wanted to write some body horror to go with 4
Velin's mouth is shut, one hand clasped over it; the skin of his arms is covered in cracks of blazing light, burning from underneat like he's been eaten away from the inside out. But from between his fingers there's a humming, one that quickly grows as loud as were his screams. It echoes unnaturally, sounding like it's backed by a choir - there's a little bit of Ishgard to it, and a little bit the chants of the Steppe, but most of all it hurts to hear. Alisaie claps her hands over her ears, eyes brimming with involuntary tears; none of the others seem any better equipped to bear it.
- no. There is one, Ryne, whose hands are pressed over her mouth instead. It's in contrast to Y'shtola, who not only has her ears folded back but also her eyes squinted half-shut, like she's staring into the sun itself.
Velin's on his knees already, but he somehow shoves himself over backwards, trying to scramble backwards from the other Scions. His left hand seems almost fused to his face, but he pulls himself with his right arm - until it shatters from underneath him like it's made of crystal. He falls onto his back; instead of a scream, the song just gets louder for a few notes. They're unbearably sweet, and they burn the very air around him.
Velin's other arm shatters, leaving behind just the hand over his mouth, cut off just below the wrist with a neat glowing oval. He thrashes, bright white lines trailing from under his visor like tears. With another shattering peal, a giant mass of white feathers tears free from his lower half, shredding his legs like so many little pieces of glass. Every little twitch flicks what might be blood over Vauthry's - Innocence's - floor, but instead of red it's as blindingly bright as the rest. Just glancing at it burns afterimages into your eyes.
What's left of Velin's former body goes limp, breathing only faintly. From the mass of feathers - very slowly unfolding, and growing by the moment - emerges a hand and arm stretching toward the sky. But there's something a little bit off about the joints, and it's stretching out from where the Miqo'te's legs would have been -
If not for Thancred - in truth, if not for Ryne - perhaps some of the Scions would have stayed just a touch too long, frozen in shock. Long enough that they would have been subsumed. But Ryne takes one step forward, reaching her own hand out in distress, and Thancred reanimates. He grabs her arm and tugs her toward the stairs, yelling, "Run!"
They run.
Every one of them will look back, at least once. Not a one will say what they saw.
Feathers unfurl towards the unending light of the sky.
14 - Part (Parahumans AU)
"Eventually," Velin allows, grinning. Truthfully, he hasn't decided on one yet because he can't come up with one he likes - naming things apparently isn't his forte. Not that it's surprising. Sarnai was the one who named the family dog, and the kitten their parents got after they moved out too. "Is it really a big deal if someone else does?"
Alisaie sighs, exasperated. "If you don't mind ending up with a name like Shoelace or Stain or something, sure."
Velin huffs out a small breath, his bangs flying up for a second. He's still smiling, though. "Well -"
The sound of shattering glass breaks the (relative) silence of the night. Velin perks up immediately, jumping down from the fire escape. "Come on!"
Alisaie drops the subject immediately, probably even more excited about the prospect of action than Velin. She yanks her masked hat back down over her head and drops, racing him to the sound.
Tiny little lights like stars start sparkling around Velin even before they've arrived, like constellations springing into being around his body - it's not subtle, not even a little, but then again... the Red Mage and "V"-while-cape-name-is-pending don't tend to aim for subtle. Alisiae herself is generating plenty of glow, pulling her glowing sword construct out of thin air.
And then, just as they turn the corner to see the smashed storefront window - one of Velin's stars implodes into a faintly-glowing person, popping out of thin air. Both his and Alisaie's eyes widen.
"Is that Armsmaster?" she hisses at "V" - somehow, her steps don't slow, though Velin does stumble for a moment in shock.
"Yeah -" Velin hisses back. The Armsmaster-duplicate tosses a spare halberd in Velin's direction - absently, he sticks out a hand to catch it, without looking. It seems less like he could sense it or has especially good coordination, more like he just knew his summoned ally would throw it exactly where his hand would end up. "I guess whatever we're running into tonight is more serious than usual - be careful."
On a normal day, Velin's power doesn't even create copies of capes - just standard, normal humans. Sometimes it's someone burly, sometimes it's someone who knows how to follow a trail, sometimes it's a kid who can crawl through a window too small for them and unlock a door - but normal. The few times his power has spit out parahumans it's been pretty minor powers, and it's always meant they're going to have a rough night. Velin's never had a big name like Armsmaster show up.
Until today.
Alisaie sets her jaw, dulling the glow of her weapon - Velin's matrix of stars has vanished by now - and they slow as they reach the window. Both hesitate; then, though Velin strangles a muffled protest, Alisaie vaults inside.