Fire, Fire!

[Chameleon]

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49th Fall 517

It was late, and most sane Alvadas were tucked up in their beds tightly asleep, enjoying the darkness that had blessed the city. The others - as sane was a word rarely used to describe the denizens of the city - were doing whatever it was they did in the cover of the stars above, arranged in triangles of ascending size.

It seemed a peaceful night, but those who believed that were sorely mistaken.

The first indicator that something was wrong was the smell. While not a smell that ordinarily brought any sense of danger, the crisp clear, and practically overwhelming scent of citrus fruits. Where you went in the city, the distinct smell of orange and lemons couldn't be mistaken.

The second indicator was the glowing in the distance. As people, disturbed by the strength of this sudden scent, stared out to try uncover the source of it, the more observant ones spotted it instantly. Under the centre of the largest triangle of stars, a light seemed to be shining, almost bursting out from behind the other buildings. The glow cast long, tall shadows, across the rest of the city, and illuminated a small strip of sky - in which a faint black smudge could be spotted, like pencil marks badly rubbed out.

The final indicator gave it away to those who hadn't guessed. Shouting arouse - first distance noises, then it was joined with the clanging of bells, and more coherent words.

"Fire!" "Womiyu!" "Arson!" "Speakers!"

For the tall tower, with its faux windows presenting statuettes and large imposing gate, was ablaze. Fire tore through it, setting everything it caught in its grip alight. Smoke churned out as if it was a factory, and the screams were as constant as grounding machinery. But this wasn't a factory, and there was nothing good about those screams.

There were people trapped inside. Speakers, too. And, while a few had managed to escape, sooty and drained as they lingered by the open gates, the numbers weren't enough.

It seemed that the fire would never end.

Then a long spray of water hit the side of the building, and there was a loud hiss as fire was extinguished.

At once, all eyes went to the source of the hose.

The water was being pushed out of red gloved hands, from a small woman dressed otherwise in black, practical gear. She crouched on a small red wagon - two buckets of water lay at her feet, a bundle of tools to join them, and behind her rested a folded ladder, built into the wagon. A tiny black pony snorted and sniffed, lost in the crowd and excitement.

The firefighter moved again, another ball of water shooting from her hand at the building, but her face was focused towards the crowd. It was then they saw the mask: white, with red paint across the eyes and lips, and a red rose and feather topping it. "Help!" she ordered briskly, "Now!"

People clamoured for attention, with questions and answers for themselves, but she ignored them, struggling to keep up with the water she was trying to shoot from her hands. "I need people to fetch buckets, to throw them at the fire. Manage it from the outside. And I need people to come inside with me. Grab what you need -" she kicked at the bundle of tools, letting them come into the view of the people - crowbars and axes and more - "And we go!"

Her gloved hand pointed to the open gates. They had caught ablaze now, too. The ornate wood was burning, but they were open enough for a group to slip in. Smoke billowed out from there, the citrus smell overwhelming for those who wandered close. It was impossible to see the danger clearly, but without a doubt, it was there.

If they wanted to do any good, they'd have to be careful, before they lost their own lives, too.

[Asterope]

Asterope's curiosity, as was becoming increasingly common, was going to get her into trouble.

She'd been lounging against the sill of the open window in her room at the Cubacious, too restless to sleep just yet (if at all), simply enjoying the cool night air. From her vantage point, she could see both the empty streets with the occasional passerby, and the glittering stars in the sea of indigo that was the late night sky. It was peaceful. The air smelled not of the crispness of autumn, but rather of something sweet, not unlike candy, but it wasn't overpowering and it was one of the more pleasant smells that had enveloped the city as of late.

Absently, Aster debated going down to the main room of the inn to use the hearth and brew herself a cup of tea, not because she was thirsty but because she liked the taste and the feeling of a hot beverage in her hands and sliding down her throat, warming her from the inside out. Her idle thoughts were interrupted by a sudden breeze that blew her copper hair around her face in a gust, bringing with it a sharp change of smell.

Citrus flooded Aster's nose, an intense mingling of primarily lemons and oranges and perhaps a hint of lime. It wasn't unpleasant, but it took her by surprise, and she leaned forward to peer both ways down the street to see if she could see the source of the sudden smell. She'd learned quickly that the fragrance illusions meant nothing as to what the real source of the smell was (which she'd found made eating in her mortal form oftentimes fairly uncomfortable and downright dissatisfying), but something that smelled so strong was bound to have a source that smelled just as intensely without its true odour masked.

Now alert, Aster drummed her fingers on the windowsill; it could be nothing, but when the scent of citrus only grew steadily stronger, her inquisitiveness could no longer be ignored. With a sigh, Aster quickly changed into the first dress she grabbed, almost forgetting to buckle on her belt and dagger, then yanked on her boots and was out the door, not bothering to wake the sleeping Navi in the corner.

Once on the streets, Aster inhaled deeply, her nose tingling slightly at the intense, faintly acidic smell, and began to follow it to its source. She could hear people shouting as well, and it didn't take long to see where it was coming from; for all its trickery and mischief, it seemed the city and its patron deity knew when time was of the essence. Aster rounded a corner, footsteps purposeful, and was greeted with the sight of a burning building, the flames licking into the sky vivid and bright against the backdrop of the night.

A gasp escaped her, and she increased her pace, breaking out into a run as she joined the throng of people gathering outside the building. Screams could be heard from inside, and Aster's heart dropped like a stone into her stomach, punching the breath out of her; there were still people inside. Aster stared at the building in horror, long shadows cast over her face, her hair gleaming with the dancing orange light of the flames.

Suddenly a jet of water hit a portion of the fire. Aster turned her gaze towards a woman who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the source of the water. She's doing that, Aster realized. She's using magic. But she had no time to dwell on it, because the masked woman was calling out instructions in a loud, clear voice, a source of calm among the storm of panic. She was asking - no, ordering people to help.

Already people were gathering tools, running for sources of water; but who knew how long the blaze would take to calm and contain. Perhaps longer than some of the people inside had left, if the heat radiating off of the building and the thick billows of smoke drifting into the air were anything to go by. Aster glanced at the burning building. Ash drifted through the air, thick and fluttering like snow, landing in her hair and on her pale skin and smudging it with various streaks of sooty grey.

Still new to Alvadas, Aster knew little to nothing about either the Womiyu or the Speakers, but her first instinct was to help; however, trepidation filled her at the thought of venturing into the flames. A renewed bout of shouting, coupled with a cry of "And we go!" from the mysterious masked woman, steeled her resolve. She couldn't simply stand idle, and Asterope knew that she would never be able to forgive herself if she didn't do everything in her power to help and people died because of it.

Swallowing hard, Aster clenched her fists and pushed her way through the crowd to get closer to the woman. She stood as tall as she could, trying to get her head above the crowd, but it was a fruitless endeavour, short as she was. "I'll help," she called out, voice loud to be heard over the crowd, and if it trembled a little bit then who was to say anything as the petite redhead set her jaw, determination glinting in her gaze.

She glanced to the tools the woman had brought with her, not much of which were left, and grabbed an axe. The weapon was heavy, the metal head gleaming in the light of the fire, the smooth wood of the handle alien in her hands; but Aster figured she would make better use out of something with a sharp edge than a blunt one given her decided lack of physical strength, especially in the form she occupied at the moment, and the tool would undoubtedly be useful inside the blazing building.

OOCHope this was alright Cham, and sorry for the length, let me know if anything needs changing. I couldn't wait to get this post up, I'm super excited to do this event with all of you!

"Common" | "Nari" | "Pavi" | Thoughts
"Other People's Speech"

[Aislyn Leavold]

49th of Fall, 517 AV

There was a whimsical feeling in the chill of Autumn air, more so than in a normal Alvad night. Perhaps it stemmed from the clear, cloudless, moonless sky above, where small glimmering lights promised wishes to those that believed in them. Perhaps it was the smell of lemon that Aislyn found rather pleasant, despite its peculiarity at such a late hour. Or perhaps it was the fact that the illusionist’s exhaustion was finally catching up to her, and her days had become dreamlike to mock the fact that dreaming was something she didn’t do much anymore. In place of it, she walked.
Or hobbled.
It was up to interpretation, really.
Ever since her run-in with the plague in the previous season, Aislyn’s struggle to survive had been more arduous than usual. Walking was her usual go-to when the struggle was hard, but as the disease had spread to her legs it seemed even that was taken from her. So now, the illusionist no longer walked, but limped, half her weight supported on a wooden brace fashioned by a friend. But it had been getting better as the Autumn went on; now, she could support weight on it if she found it lucrative enough. For the moment, however, she hobbled.

The night was rapidly cooling, though with a cloak around her shoulders Aislyn paid the temperature no mind. The strangely scented season had brought many odd things, but the citrus scent was a new one. It was almost unbearably strong- peculiar, considering the illusionist couldn’t think of any one thing that could pointedly be attributed to Alvadas as a whole. Even more peculiar; as her eyes traced along the edges of buildings outlined against the sky, she began to notice the stars she had been appreciating in the sky slowly being smothered. Small, dying embers hanging above as a dark cloud pulled across them. For a moment she just stared, until her crutch struck uneven ground and she stumbled. When her eyes refocused, she found a small ember, floating down in front of her. Infinitesimally small and faintly glowing, Aislyn looked from it and back to the sky, where she quickly grew to realize the charcoal smudges were not clouds, but smoke.

It was then that Aislyn heard the first of the screams.

Incoherent at first, though the ambiguity melted into a dreadful understanding as the woman made her way, rather quickly now, towards the source of the smoke. There were people on the streets, far too many for the dead of night in Alvadas. More strangely than that, however, was the fact that they all headed in one direction, away from the source of the dark black clouds. Away from- Aislyn recognized it as the form became visible above nearby rooftops- the Womiyu.
Gods, the Womiyu.

Now she was pushing through the crowd, one hand on her crutch and the other pulling her hood down to hide herself. She passed men and women, human and not. The citizens of Alvadas standing and watching as the heart of the city went up in flames. Somewhere, water was being thrown up into the inferno. It wasn’t until Aislyn broke through the crowd that it was evident where the futile assistance originated from. A woman, masked in whites and reds, manipulating liquid from buckets with her bare hands. That, of all things, brought Aislyn a moment of pause, and in that moment she was suspicious. Alvadas had no institution of people that dressed in any way like the way the woman was dressed, nor would the city condone such egregious behavior. Nonetheless, she was the only one doing anything to help those trapped inside, and she was asking for help.

There were many things Aislyn would not do under any circumstance.
No matter how much she might loathe her existence and the pain that living brought her, running into a burning building with one inept limb was not high on her to-do list.
However, there was nothing Aislyn would not do for Alvadas. The inverted marks across her skin proved that much. Thus, while she was still within the sanctity of the crowd and benefitting from the cover of confusion, Aislyn curled her cloak around her and willed the nighttime form of Thief to fade, the red-haired, dark-skinned Anjani taking her place. Being surrounded by so many people, her heart pounded in her throat as her illusions just slightly shifted. Dark doubt curled at the edge of her mind, telling her that others would notice, despite the chaos. But this was not a situation in which Aislyn needed stealth. This was a situation in which she needed dedication, and perhaps a bit of foolhardy bravado. Her illusions might only be masks, but this was quite clearly a situation requiring a specific mask to be worn.

Barely did she acknowledge the few figures outside of the crowd. Barely did she acknowledge the woman herself as Aislyn stopped briefly to pick up some sort of pick-like instrument from the woman’s tools. But as she rose to face the inferno the enormity of the situation was beginning to set in. People were people, and fires were fires, but this was… different. This was the closest thing to Ionu that an Alvad could get. Though Aislyn had experienced her fair share of run-ins with Speakers and few of them had been pleasant, they were Ionu, and Ionu was them. Just at the edge of the flames, the heat licking at her skin, the briefest of hesitation crossed her mind. The illusionist didn’t need an invitation to walk into a burning pit of Hai in the name of her deity, but certain death was much harder to face when it had such an intimidating form. Even still, she didn’t look back. She was acutely aware of what was both in front and behind her now, and if there was one thing Aislyn feared more than certain death, it was prying eyes.

[Ambrosia Alar]

For all her life, Ambrosia had been convinced that Alvadas and Ionu considered her some treasured child. While many struggled to get places around the city and found that annoying illusions hounded them wherever they went, this had never been the case for Ambrosia. Whenever she needed to get somewhere, the illusions got her there quickly, and never had any illusions tried to hurt or hinder her. In fact, the season before an illusion had protected her from a swarm of biting insects that had descended on her on her way to her job at the Stallion’s Rear. Like all small and insignificant things, Ambrosia thought herself important, a blessed denizen of the city, and since nothing shook her faith in that, she continued to believe it. Any minor inconvenience that dared to interfere with her regular day to day was seen as just that, small and insignificant, the petty price she had to pay to be considered normal like everyone else. It wasn’t until she rounded a corner on her way to work only to be confronted by a burning building that she began to suspect the real nature of things. The city didn’t guide her to where she wanted to be. It put her where it needed her. She was just a cog in its machine. Chaos required a certain amount of stability and normalcy. Otherwise, it lost its sense of urgency and its ability to throw people off. Ambrosia and her role at the Rear was a point of stability for many, and so her life seemed to fall in to place. And today, Alvadas had put her here, because it needed her to do something about this fire. There was someone else already present, dressed in black except a mask and red gloves and armed to the teeth for fighting fires with her wagon and its tools and buckets of water. For a fleeting moment, Ambrosia was suspicious of the mysterious woman. It almost seemed too convenient that she showed up with the needed tools at their exact time of need. Sure, fires happened but not often enough for people to wander about with such implements just in case. But the suspicions were as ephemeral as the tongues of flame that leapt about. Maybe this had been burning for some time and she just hadn’t noticed. As observant as Ambrosia tended to be, her mind had been distracted of late. Besides, if this woman was an arsonist, as many people at the scene were claiming was the cause of the fire, she had no reason to return to the fire, no reason to offer assistance, no reason to go back in. If she were an arsonist, she could just sit back and watch her handiwork play out. Ambrosia’s suspicions resurfaced for a moment when the water from the buckets jumped to the woman’s hands and, at her will, jetted toward the flames, but she stifled those thoughts of doubt with the logic that no one would put themselves at risk with such an exposure unless they had good intentions. Sighing, Ambrosia moved over to the woman’s wagon as the reimancer called the people around her to action. There was a resignation to the idea that she might not be as special as she had once thought, but she didn’t abandon the idea altogether. After all, her mother had told her she was the Stars. The pile of tools didn’t give a lot to choose from. The axes weren’t ever considered; Ambrosia knew she didn’t have the strength to use them properly. But a crowbar? Now that was a tool she had used for opening crates and barrels brought into the Rear, and she knew how effective it could be. It was strong and durable and could stand up to the heat, but better than that, one didn’t have to be strong to use it. The tool’s power lay in the fact that it was a lever; any force applied to one end was magnified on the other. So with the crowbar in hand, Ambrosia stepped up quickly to the gates and ducked in, only to come stumbling back out coughing. The smoke was too much for her lungs to stand. Staring at the smoke pouring from the gates of the Womiyu, Ambrosia took a moment to stop coughing as she sized the situation up. There was no way she was going to do any good in there if she couldn’t breathe. She looked to the people beginning to go to work on the outside of the building filling buckets and tossing them fruitlessly on the flames, and an idea sprang into her mind. Untying the sash she was using as a head wrap to keep her hair done up, she dunked it into one of the buckets and rang it out, then wrapped it around her face to cover her nose and mouth and tied it behind her head. With her makeshift mask in place, Ambrosia followed the others into the building and found that her lungs didn’t burn as badly as they had before. Now it was only her eyes that burned and teared up from the dryness and heat. As the heat seemed to immediately parch her skin, Ambrosia regretted ever stepping inside.

[Allassanachassanya]

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49th Autumn 517 AV
"Speech"
"Others"

Ssanya walked slowly in the shadow of a building and gazed at the dark sky through hooded, shaded eyes. The stars were beautiful, and she was wistful for some reason. The darkness blanketed the quiet, Alvad evening as she walked, thinking aimless thought and walking aimless paths. Things were rarely quite so random in this city though. She was forgetting, temporarily, that although her mind wandered, the roads did not. She dreamt of Ahnatep and of her mother, she thought of the desert sands... Madeira crossed her mind from time to time too, a spectral woman wearing white for some reason, her blonde hair floated far more serenely than it did in real life. Ssanya was half in a dream before she realised the sharp tang of lemons that hung in the air.

She cleared her vision, and tilted the hood from her face to scent the air. Yes, lemons, oranges maybe... her tongue, thin and slivering, flicked out to test the air. But it wasn't the citrus scents that made her pupils dilate in shock, but the sudden scream that drifted like a horrified song through the air. She was running before her feet even realised she'd told them to move in the direction of the sound and the increasingly stronger scent. She glanced up at the sky as she ran, and saw a smear of darkness that should not have been there. The Dhani woman, unaware that she looked somewhat fearsome, hissed with surprise. Was something on fire?

The screams and moans were becoming louder and more frequent now, interspersed with crackling and roaring and the frantic hubbub of a crowd that knew not what to do. Ssanya shifted left, turning down a narrow street until finally reaching the structure that howled like a beast in torment. But gods, what could she do? The snake woman bled into the crowd and did her best to push forwards despite having no idea what to do. The night swallowed reason and the fire encouraged nothing but fear and a numb kind of horror that was infectious, like the plague that still lingered.

But improbably, crazily, a woman was shooting water at the burning building from where the majority of screams were coming from. And she was asking, madly, for help. Many didn't hear, many more demanded answers from her. Ssanya was furious. Not at the lady with the water, but with the people who questioned in a time such as this. It was utterly ridiculous. That she was one of the unhelpful was perhaps why she, doubly madly, stepped forwards with an utter feeling of dread and followed the few foolhardy souls who took what they could and were pressing forwards to the furnace.

Ssanya picked up an axe, and said nothing at all as she tied her cloak to her left arm. She doubted, with an internal, dark chuckle, that she would need to wear the damn thing, but maybe it might protect her from burns. Probably not. Her eyes flickered to the woman wrapping a scarf around her face, but she had nothing at all which would prevent her from breathing in smoke, and so she grimaced and followed the masked woman into what could only be described as Hai.

OOC :

This is how I see the crowd: Oh noes

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[Chameleon]

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49th Fall 517

The firefighter sized up the four women carefully, but in the crowds of people, most simply pushing to get away, or to get close enough to watch the excitement, it was easy to miss them, and it didn't matter who they were. If they were brave enough to risk their lives, she could trust them do what they needed to do.

She let them go first, before following quickly, bag of things slung over her shoulder. Boots thudded on the ground, unheard over the noises of everything else. The noise was overpowering, surprisingly loud. It wasn't even the shouts, the constant drone of screams and yells. The fire crackled when it was feeling meek, and roared as flamed fired out of windows.

As the group entered the smoke filled room, the firefighter pointed towards the blonde with a wet cloth over her mouth, nodding encouragingly. "If you can, do what she did. Good thinking." Her words were curt, but meaningful as she adjusted her mask that, partly, helped with the problem.

The room they entered lacked all the splendour it should have had. Thick with smoke, it hung in a constant curtain around them, obscuring most of what should have been only a few metres away. To see anything properly, one would have to approach it until they were basically there - although with the burning interior, it was hard to approach anything without putting yourself into danger.

The chamber was a perfect circle, with blazing strips of flames running down the walls. A closer inspection into them would reveal that they were tapestries, hanging lightly on a few threads. A beautiful royal blue was lost in the char and the intricate patterns that floated up into the shadows were destroyed forever.

The intensity of the flames that roared across the tapestry made the firefighter wonder how it hadn't burnt through yet.

The vaulted ceiling was out of sight, especially with the smoke. However, the structure was quickly weakening, the beams blackened and burnt. Although it was impossible to see it properly, it was obvious that they had to move quickly, before the entire structure collapsed on them.

The staircase in the centre was intact, apart from the soot that began to coat it. The path around was mostly obscured by the smoke, but there was enough space to walk, even if avoiding the walls and tapestries that were engulfed. Around the back side of the staircase, if one approached, there was evidence of foul play - the scattered remains of a statue and wood that comprised of a fake window had fallen to the ground in a messy, burning heap.

There were noises emerging from below, echoing up the staircase. Shuffled movements, calls to others, and a general coughing noise. Movements could be spotted - there was someone shuffling up the staircase. Not a Speaker - the unmistakeable appearance of these famed members of the city couldn't be tagged to the plain individual, with ratted hair, grubby face, but bright white teeth. He coughed and heaved himself up the stairs, pointing downwards, to some sort of source of flame, if anyone approached him.

Further down, there were more noises. These voices, although even more muffled, seemed to be familiar. But they were stuck behind smoke and flames and doors, so it was impossible to tell.

The firefighter forced another spurt of water out of her extended palm, grunting in frustration as it met a burst of flame with no effect. If they weren't quick enough, they'd be trapped in here - and she couldn't put anything out quick enough.

[Asterope]

The roar of the fire was almost deafening as Aster followed the three other women into the blazing building, the firefighter bringing up the rear. The second she stepped foot inside, it was as if her whole world was simply made of flames. Heat blasted her in the face, and she brought up an arm to shield her eyes as she squinted. Embers popped and crackled, smoke curling heavily through the air and making breathing difficult; flames danced in her peripheral, sending an eerie orange glow over her surroundings. Glancing around the building, it was clear it had once been something beautiful, even as the fire consumed it.

Her attention was brought back to the firefighter when she pointed to the woman who had covered the lower half of her face with a wet cloth. Aster glanced down at herself appraisingly, but she already knew she had nothing that could be used in the same manner. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, brought on by the thick acrid smoke and flakes of ash clinging to her lashes. Aster could feel an itching in her throat already, but she tried her best to ignore it even as she coughed, her throat beginning to ache.

Suddenly, a man emerged from the smoke, coming up the staircase at the center of the room. Aster's instincts kicked in, and she slipped past the rest of the group to meet him at the top of the staircase. Small hands deftly ran over his arms, red-rimmed and watery eyes still sharp in their brief assessment of the man for any life-threatening injuries as he pointed back down the stairs, but he seemed no worse for wear all things considered. Faintly, over the crackling of the flames, Asterope could hear muffled shouting from the same direction that the man was pointing.

Aster looked back to the rest of the group; the masked woman was struggling with flames near the entrance, and the Eth knew with a heavy feeling in her stomach that they didn't have much time. "I think there are more people down here," she called. She had to practically scream it to be heard, her voice hoarse and throat sore from inhaling the smoke, and the fire doing its best to drown her out.

Nudging the soot-covered man in the direction of the entrance, Aster gripped the axe tightly in her hands, staring down the steps with trepidation. The creaking sound of wood and a crash somewhere in the building jarred her, and forced her into movement before she could think about it any longer. She started down the soot coated steps towards the voices, leaving footprints as if walking through a fine black snow, and glanced back in hopes that she wasn't alone.

If any of the other women had followed her, she would flash them a tight, brief smile. But whether she was alone or not, Aster pressed on. It seemed hotter the further down she went, the smoke thickening. She kept her head ducked to stay out of it as much as possible, but her nose still burned, and she found herself coughing almost every other breath.

This is stupid, she thought, sudden panic seizing her chest. I'm going to die down here. But just as doubt started to fill her mind, fear making her feet stumble and want to turn back, she heard another shout, seemingly closer this time.

Resolution settled hard and heavy in her chest, more solid than her fear. She had to help; she couldn't let innocent people die. Syna, give me strength and guide me.

Word Count: 599

"Common" | "Nari" | "Pavi" | Thoughts
"Other People's Speech"

[Aislyn Leavold]

Aislyn didn’t like this at all. There was a sickly feeling of dread pulsing through the adrenaline in her veins, brought to the forefront of her mind by the smoke burning her lungs. Every part of her was saying she should not, in fact, be running into a burning building, but she was committed to this act of foolishness by now. In her moment of hesitation, she saw a building she had seen from the outside countless times. As long as Alvadas had stood, the Womiyu had stood above it, a central tower at the heart of the city. Never had the shining beacon of power fallen from grace; never had it been invaded, nor intruded, ever floating above the chaos of an ever-changing city. Now, inflamed protrusions of wood hung from its walls, bright yellow and white. Strangely enough, most of the building was black, either with soot or with ashy smoke that flowed endlessly from inside. Whatever burning was outside, it seemed there was threefold more internally.
And yet, internally they were to go.

As a result of her hesitance, the illusionist was not the first to enter. A taller, horned woman racing past. Aislyn was to be second, then. Two others stood with the strange, magical figure, one in the midst of tying a cloth around her head. It wasn’t a bad idea, though the illusionist wore no scarf or sash. All she donned were plain linen cloths and her old black cloak. But the cloak was aged long enough for her not to remember its origins; the stitches worn in many places. Pulling at a piece of the fabric where a hole had already begun to form, Aislyn succeeded in tearing a somewhat unfortunately triangular, though functional, piece of cloth as she moved further into the house.
Surprisingly, the heat was not first what she noticed, instead the absolute cacophony of noise being the first thing to pierce her consciousness. Screams, yes. Shouts, yes. But the sound of fire was surprisingly loud. Like a well-fed hearth, except now Aislyn was the fodder fed to the flames. They were all small twigs and dry leaves, being slowly turned to ash as the heat shriveled them up, one by one.

Tying the torn fabric across her face, Aislyn found it didn’t help her to breathe as much as she had hoped, though it did obscure her features more than the smoke and soot already had. Granted, in the time she had wasted the horned one had already begun to pull victims from the flames; a man was stumbling by the illusionist already as she entered the fray, his hand outstretched to point in the direction of where he had appeared. Briefly, she made eye contact with his rescuer, who smiled briefly before descending further into the building.
From the excruciating shouts and screams originating from somewhere in the building, it appeared that the man would not be the last of those they had to save, though he was the first of the lucky ones. Even above the sound of crackling flames resonating from somewhere nearby, there were creaks and moans of the building as it protested its demise. If the flames didn’t take them, the collapse of the tower itself surely would.

At the edge of the staircase, Aislyn found herself looking up, not down. This was not how she had imagined her first time inside the Womiyu to be. She had always wished and wanted and prayed to be blessed enough by Ionu to come inside the most sacred sanctum of those the deity trusted most dearly, and now, in a most darkly Alvadas fashion, here she was. Alvads were a people that were careful what they wished for, as Ionu had a strange way of delivering. All around, the tokens of decadence the illusionist had so feverishly longed to see hung in tatters, the fabric decorating the room exuding bright light as they held the flames close to the chamber walls.
But further, down the staircase, the horned one quickly disappeared out of sight as smoke rose out of the stairwell. She was to follow quickly or be left behind.

And so she pressed on.

The stairs were covered with what almost felt like a dark, thick layer of dust, every breath of the building raining more soot down upon the darkened floor. For as much of the journey as she could, Aislyn held her breath, pressing the cloth to her mouth in an attempt to filter the air whenever she found breathing to be an absolute necessity. Soon she caught sight of the horned one again, but the smoke behind her obscured those that might have followed. It would be unfortunate to lose the usefulness of the water woman’s ability, but Aislyn was sure that even without her, this surely couldn’t be a deadly situation. Ionu surely still held power within a building of such importance, and with that power, the deity surely must have been watching. Under her favored deity’s gaze, there was no way she would fail to escape alive.
The illusionist had faith, and that was all she needed.

Right?

[867]

[Ambrosia Alar]

This is what Hai must be like. That was the first thought that went through Ambrosia’s head once her eyes had adjusted to the dry, burning air inside. The first thing she noticed, oddly enough, was the lack of color. For a site dedicated the Speakers for the Deity of Illusion, the lack of color was surprising. Aside from the yellows, oranges, and reds of the fire, there was only the whites and grays and blacks of the smoke and ash. The walls themselves were alive with the leaping flames, but where there was no fire, there was only desolation. Smoke billowed everywhere, but an even more significant amount poured out from the stairs headed downward in the center of the room. The second thing she noticed was the noise. Many times as a child, Ambrosia had heard the word “roaring” used to describe the fire in her family’s hearth. She had never understood that, until today. This fire truly roared. The air itself thrummed. It had been Ambrosia’s observation that people tried to take the most dangerous things in the world and tame them down, try to contain them. But this fire was different from the ones she so often encountered in hearths. In those fires, the flames danced. Not so in this one. This was fire in its wild form, with its natural power, and it had no need, no call to be elegant. All it cared to do was consume. Destruction was not its purpose, but it was the necessary consequence. The dryness and the heat she had felt when she first stepped in, but now, with some time spent fully immersed in both, she felt the fire was sucking the life out of the air around her, smothering her slowly, like drowning on dry land. She didn’t know whether it was the smoke in the air or that she was breathing through a cloth, but with every chime that passed, her breath came more and more difficultly. The time to ponder her discomfort was over before it ever really began as a man came stumbling up the stairs. Words weren’t going to do him any good, as every breath racked his body with coughing, but he pointed down urgently. Ambrosia knew what that meant. There were more people farther in. The screams from below would have told her the same thing. The Ethaefal woman who had come in with the others rushed to the man’s side, checking him over. The Ethaefal had to shout to be heard in the pandemonium. “I think there are more people down here.” As the man made his way for the door, the five women moved deeper into the danger. There was a growing sense of urgency; and with it, panic. Perhaps that had some small role to play in her difficulty breathing. Even more worried, Ambrosia noted that difficulty just kept building. But then something happened. The Ethaefal at their lead turned and flashed a smile. In Ambrosia’s scattered mind, that somehow meant everything was going to be fine. She relaxed and realized her breath came a little easier, returning the smile though it probably went unnoticed behind her makeshift mask. At the very least, they would be able to see the change in her eyes. Smoke was pouring up from below, so thick the two women ahead of her were immediately lost as soon as they began to descend the stairs. Ambrosia’s own fingertips were nearly lost to her sight at the end of her outstretched hand. Every time she glanced down, she could barely see her shoes beneath her and the footprints in the ash that indicated the others were still ahead of her. Every moment in this terror felt like a dozen, and every chime was filled with too many moments. If she had something to do other than descend into the earth, other than step deeper into this grave, she wouldn’t mind so much. In another of those stretched out moments, her sought after distraction came. Out of the corner of her eye, Ambrosia caught a door in the wall. Reaching out, she touched the doorknob and found it warm to the touch, warmer than it should have been. She couldn’t tell if the stairway was trapping more smoke here or if there was extra smoke pouring from under the door. Trying to open the door, Ambrosia found it locked. Fist pounding against the wood, she shouted to any possible inhabitants. “Hello? Is anyone in there?” No answer came, and she was only allowed to try once more before screams sounded from farther down the stairwell. Rushing down the steps, she nearly collided with the two others when she cut through the smoke behind them. “We gotta get down to those people quickly.” In situations such as these, there was a fine line between haste and recklessness, but time was not on their side. WC=818

[Allassanachassanya]

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"Speech"
"Others"

As it turned out, Ssanya was second to last into the pillar of fire. A thought had jolted into her head as surely as lightening, and without hesitance she blurted out to the firefighter just as she was about to turn. "Don't worry if you ssssee a sssnake!" Then, in all the turbulence of the screaming people and madly rushing well-doers, she slipped out of her clothes as fast as she could and began to transform. She had no time to luxuriate as her bones clicked into place, but she stretched herself taller as she loomed in her pure Dhani form and grabbed the cloak she had just shed, wrapping it once more firmly around her forearm.

It was no use nor help against the sheer shrieking of the inferno beyond, however. Ssanya's eyes immediately began to water, and she stayed near to the door to gasp the last few breaths of cooler air before following her strange compatriots. They had already got to work. She was ashamed, but resolutely brought her covered arm to her face to ward away the spitting embers and gusting ash. It was fearsome, terrifying, awful... Ssanya cringed at the screams of those trapped below, and barely heard the horned woman's cries, only registering that there were others further down.

The stairs were treacherous, and her vision was stolen by billowing clouds of smoke that spat blackness into her eyes. Everything was hot, heat, death. She felt her way precariously down into the dimness, and gritted her teeth against the heat that threatened to tear her face off. There were flickering flames clawing through the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, where a door still half-stood, burnt as it was almost to an ember. Through it, they could all hear a terrified scream, of a man or woman it was difficult to tell.

Should they wait for the firewoman to do something, to lead them? Should they make their own move, whilst the woman wielded her water in other places? The voices cried out again, two this time, vocal cords ragged and harsh, and that same panic clenched an iron fist around her own heart. Help. They needed to help. She peered through the burning Hai-hole, desperately trying to see if anyone was nearby. It didn't look like it, but they didn't have enough time to properly check. Instead, she hefted the axe and called to one of the others, any of the others, "Help break the door down!" Although the axe was foreign in her hands, she brought it down as hard as she could onto the burning wood, and leapt back with a cry as their combined efforts broke the wood- but sent burning shoots of wood crumbling and exploding onto the stairs.

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