Pride and Glory (Shinsou vs Storm)

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

If one were to take Storm, fillet his personality from his body and manifest it into something that could physically be explored, Shinsou had come to the conclusion that it would be like slick moorland.

One would find themselves trudging through both dry and wet patches, before losing their footing to a quagmire of political mud here or wandering into a marsh of ruthlessness there. Being around the finely dressed, wealthy and incredibly intelligent electromancer had made the Telgradian realise that there was always an angle being worked, a plan being made or a means to an end being executed to take Storm Veritas from where he was to where he needed to be. It could have been something as subtle as wordplay in a diplomatic tussle, or something as brutal as frying some poor bastard who stood in-between him and destiny. That was, after all, how the man had gotten to the top of the ladder.

But, whatever form it took, there was always something cooking in Storm's mind.

Shinsou Vaan Osiris had not been sure what to expect upon his re-union with his friend, and whether or not that famous Veritas grey matter had been working overtime on an angle just for him. Would he treat him with contempt for resigning his commission? He had been expecting so. Would he demand an explanation for his behaviour when his thousand-strong army appeared on Veritas’s flank outside Radasanth, before promptly disappearing? Shinsou would have done, so he fully expected Storm to ask the same sort of questions.

One thing was for certain, though. Here, he’d be thinking about the next play, the next power grab. So, here he was, joking about the state he had left the gents toilet in.

The Telgradian would have been lying if he had said he hadn’t found it a little funny. Storm had a particularly dry brand of humour; one that appealed to Shinsou and made him feel on a similar wavelength to his compatriot. But that was just it, wasn’t it?

Even something as simple as weaving a simple little quip together to loosen me up is right up your alley. Every word placed carefully; every rise or fall in tone and pregnant pause designed for a purpose. The politico’s tome.

“You’re a master of it, really, aren’t you?” Shinsou’s voice carried across the cold marble, reverberating around the columns of white as the man smiled and shrugged, ”Bullshit, I mean. You know me well enough to know by now that I don’t get fed on it the same as others do.” Not surprisingly, he regretted what he said almost as soon as it left his mouth, identifying it as the product of over-thinking, but that didn’t help to assuage his feelings either.

One-nil to Storm. Might as well have put a big, luminous sign over my head that said “bait”. Just stick to what you’re good at, Shin, which is breaking bones. Let this guy use his mouth all he wants, and you can both flesh out your issues in the corridors later.

The spellsword shook the cobwebs from his mind with a quick spin of the head, and then he stepped forth. Two echoing footfalls disguised an esoteric incantation in Telgradian tongue. His dark matter cladded hands flashed to his sides, palms downwards, spilling rivulets of the marble black energy on the polished stone of the chamber floor. A chaotic hiss followed as each droplet cascaded to the cold marble and reacted to the cooler temperatures.

In the midst of the cacophony, a five foot wall of bright, shining shrapnel ice washed through the darkness in all directions. Dazzling and disorienting, the light disappeared almost as soon as he had conjured it. Shinsou’s immunity to the cold meant he had taken care to avoid harming himself, but still the wave of seething tundra bathed him in shimmering frost. The spell wrought havoc on the column-cast shadows, casting a bright flash into the high vaults and recessed alcoves. The rows of tamed candles that once lit their path now remained only as monuments to the arctic blast; their white fire and wax coated in a layer of permafrost. A faint aroma of balsam overrode the cool scent of frozen moisture. A freezing backdraft lanced through the limp strands of Shinsou’s brown hair.

Behind those strands, his eyes glowed with whorls of white. Storm had seen many of his abilities, but there was so much more about the Telgradian than even his friend knew about.

Perhaps he would find out how much more soon.