[Suzerain of Sheol]

Ow... ow ow ow ow... why does this have to hurt so bad? Tsae is having difficulty restraining tears. She can see the injury isn't that bad, but her pain tolerance is somewhat lacking.

Beyond even that, though, her heart is pounding wildly and she feels close to vomiting, not so much from having to kill yet another person as from the fact that she just came closer to dying than she ever has in her life. The pain and blood coursing out of her leg is a constant reminder of that.

And I'm still not even close to being done here. Ugh, what the hell is he even talking about? Just leave me alone, please. Please.

She just shakes her head bitterly and pushes to her feet, wincing and leaning against the wall for support.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

The ruckus downstairs demands his attention. He could hear Logan yelling (not that that was hard, the seraph captain was good at it), but with Tsaerri looking a little worse for wear at the moment, he didn't want to leave her by herself if she was truly hurt.

"Tsaerri? Tsae? You okay? We still have problems.”

[Suzerain of Sheol]

I should really, someday, try to trust people who are nice to me. It might make my life marginally better.

Not today, though.

She reluctantly puts her weight on her foot, stifling the impulse to scream. Hopefully she'll get used to it eventually, she still has to... oh to hell with the checklist. Getting out of here alive takes priority at this point. Alone, though.

"Excuse me?" she shoots at him accusingly. "I have a lot of problems, the largest of which happens to have a dysfunctional broom tied up on his head. Did you actually think that looks good on you? Anyway, we are not an entity with overlapping interests, concerns, or affiliations. You may express your gratitude for me saving your life by kindly getting out of my sight."

With that, she makes for the stairs and immediately stumbles on her injured leg, having to clutch at the railing to avoid tumbling down.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Syrgei is tempted to pull out bits of said "broom" in frustration, but I suppose I should have expected that. Still, it's hardly in him not to ask.

And hardly in him not to help when someone was about to fall down the stairs.

He dashes forward and wraps a supporting arm around Tsaerri's waist,

for the love of all divines don't shoot me,

one hand ready to intercept whatever weapon she would pull out of thin air and butterflies.

"I'll just assume that's the blood loss talking, let's get you down the stairs at least."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"What the hell kind of assumption is that! Put me down!" Tsae reflexively blinks out of his grasp, landing near the base of the stairs and leaving behind an equally-outraged phantasm of herself in his arms. She has the presence of mind remaining to check her surroundings, though from the sound of it the chaos was mostly confined to the courtyard right now.

Tentatively standing on her hurt leg -- the pain's finally starting to die down -- and brushing her disheveled hair out of her face, Tsaerri tosses a glare at her "rescuer". "Are you suicidal? Never do that again! And no, you can't keep that one." Her phantasm dissolves in a burst of ephemeral butterflies.

Taking a deep breath and wiping the nervous sweat from her brow, she asks him, "Okay, so feel like telling me what the hell is happening here? Why do we have paramilitary sweeping this house? Caudecus planning to kill the Queen?"

I don't feel like Demmi is getting assassinated at this point...

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Syrgei might be laughing at Tsaerri's indignation if he weren't equally frustrated right now. This isn't turning out to be his ideal day, either.

“You've got me,” he says, waving away the butterflies even as they pop out of existence on their own. “I didn't come here expecting a fight. I'd bet that your guess is exactly what Logan thinks right now.”

He looks towards the garden door, itching to get out where he might be more useful. It's not as though Tsaerri actually wants his help...or opinion...or general assistance...or anything to do with him for that matter...ever.

Tough luck, we're here now.

“You're standing better. Are you going to go your own way now?”

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"Is there any reason I shouldn't? I'm not exactly interested in whatever's going on out there. But it sounds pretty exciting, are you sure you won't get fired standing around here looking after me? Why are you doing that, anyway?"

She has more to chastise him for, but her attention is drawn to the nearby door creaking open and another large man with a very large sword stepping through. There's a look like death in his eyes.

"Oh, for the love of Lys, you've got to be kidding me!" Tsae blinks away as fast as she can, narrowly avoiding a thrust from the massive blade.

"You want to deal with that?" She keeps checking behind her for more assailants. Suddenly this manor has more in common with a war-zone than the docile hunting ground she'd come in here expecting.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Definitely not leaving my armour behind again.

“Uhh, yeah.”

Their newest opponent doesn't look as large as the gunman, but definitely angrier.

“Get his attention, would you?”

Syrgei poofs out of sight in another cloud of thin black wisps, leaving Tsaerri now in full line of sight with the man who just tried to skewer her.

Being able to teleport like the mesmer would be a handy trick, but Syrgei must rely on his legs and own speed to get from place to place, unless he were to try stabbing the man.

If he's anything like the last guy, I may as well save the tip on my sword and just yell at him.

Resolving to get something with a bit more of an edge, he scans the room for some sort of substitute – for anything.

A few seconds, passed, a few seconds to go, with Tsaerri yelling what he imagines are all manner of colourful curses at him, he grabs hold of one of the standing candelabras by the doors.

That'll do.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

This is not what I signed up for at all...

"What the hell are you doing!" she shouts at the quickly-receding back of her impromptu ally, barely able to get the words out before their assailant is closing on her with that horse-killer. He's whipping it around in a double-circular pattern, building enough momentum that he'll probably cut her right in half if he connects.

So we can't let him do that...

Taking the last half-second to brace herself for the mental toll of what she's about to do, the mesmer goes invisible a second time, dropping a phantom that is instantly bisected while she bolts for the stairs nearby. Half way up, she fires off a shot from her pistol, forcing the swordsman to duck for cover, the delay of which she uses to summon a phantasm with two identical copies of the same gun, which promptly begins unloading a barrage of butterfly-bullets at her attacker.

Not done, she blinks across the hallway to the stairs on the other side and summons two more copies of her illusory gunslinger. The lobby below is now criss-crossed with magical gunfire. None of those rounds will be fatal, but hopefully the bastard doesn't know that.

Tsae leans a hand against the wall to catch her breath, the other rubbing her head. It's been a while since she's had to go all out like that. The feeling shouldn't last long. Syrgei had better take advantage of the distraction, though...

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Taking the impromptu staff in both hands, he lets momentum slide the shaft outwards until he is holding one end and swings it towards the door guard.

The impact staggers the man, and Syrgei swings the other end of his new weapon overhand and onto the guard's right shoulder. The guard collapses onto the floor, his savage snarl cuts off with a sudden grunt, then silences completely as Syrgei drives the bent ends of the -former- candle holder at the base of the downed man's neck.

Syrgei pants slightly, “mists, that was quite a distraction."

Wincing slightly, he runs a hand over his side, where he notices his coat is ragged in a few places, some wet with red streaks coming off on his palm.

“I think you shot me.”

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"And I think you walked into a bullet like an idiot." Sufficiently recovered, Tsaerri makes her way back down the stairs, coming to stand next to Syrgei over the maimed body of their attacker.

"Wow, you messed him up pretty good. Kind of thought he was going to skewer you." She finally has a moment to free her hair from the uncomfortable, and now sweat-soaked perch it's held in, shaking it loose to tumble about her shoulders.

She wipes at her face with the back of her sleeve, probably smearing makeup everywhere, but it's driving her crazy. "Okay," she says in an exhausted tone. "I'm just gonna straight-out ask you, do you happen to know if Demmi Beetlestone is here? I kind of have a lot of money riding on her not getting out of here alive. And no, I have no idea who the hell's attacking the house, I'm not with them.... that I know of."

Noticing him probing tenderly at his injury, she rolls her eyes and adds, "Oh, grow up, it wasn't even a real bullet. You're not gonna die."

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Syrgei looks mildly incredulous, brain working through the comments and questions that the mesmer just brought up.

Grow up? And you?

“Thanks, I guess?”

He straightens, tossing the bent and unwieldy candelabra to the side, and putting another dent into the already bloodstained and scratched flooring of the hall. Then, Tsaerri asks about Demmi.

“Okay, lets hope no one else heard you say that,” a great bash against the door where the fight with the golem outside was still raging indicating that it was unlikely anyone had. “I don't know where Demmi is, but she's not here. I heard there was some falling out of some kind between her and the minster. She hasn't been seen in Divinity's Reach in at least a week.”

The door to the garden shatters, splinters eaten by sparks and flame.

“Should take care of that now.”

The phrase is not addressed to anyone in particular.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Tsaerri has to forcibly resist the impulse to burst into tears. After all the frustration and indignity -- let alone almost dying multiple times -- to find out the godsdamned girl isn't even in the city... how is that even fair? And more importantly, how can she blame this on Syrgei?

The question, unfortunately, is rendered rather moot by the door exploding.

Seeing the rampaging golem outside, Tsaerri eyes it askance and shakes her head. "Nuh-uh. Not happening. I can do people, you put a bullet in their brain and they fall down. I'd be useless against something like that." She gestures at it dismissively as it plows through one of the pillars supporting the outer entrance-way.

Granted, there's probably a few things she could do to be of some assistance, but the effort is just... is just... yeah.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

The thought was answered for Syrgei as well as the pillar the Golem just smashed turns out to be load-bearing, and the stately garden entrance becomes a stately rubble pile as the second pillar, not having been designed to support the entrance on its own, also crumples down.

Why am I not surprised?

“Okay, the back door it is.”

He glances at Tsaerri, and pauses slightly, properly noticing the state of the mesmer's make-up.

Let's just not.

“You will be seeing yourself out, then?”

[Suzerain of Sheol]

"Yeah, I'm pretty much done here. Have fun cleaning up."

Not sparing him another glance, Tsaerri sets off back down the hallway she originally came through, heading for outer yard of the manor. It won't be fun in her current straits, but she should be able to get over the wall and back out into Beetletun where she can make her escape. With all the commotion going on inside, with any luck this should be a clean exit.

Checking her surroundings, the mesmer furtively traverses the sprawling manor grounds. She can hear raised voices in the barn to her right, but they're no concern of hers. Probably the Queen's abductors hauling her away to a more secure location, not that it's any of her business. Coming upon the wall, she finds a brambly hedge barring her way, with no means of ascent in sight.

Great... this is what I get for trying to blend in at the party. Why did I not wear my boots?

Gritting her teeth, Tsaerri wrenches what remains of the tatters of her skirt and tosses them away. She coils up and bursts into a sprint, jumping as high as her tiny legs will carry her and crashing into the upper edge of the hedge, scrabbling for purchase as the thorns rip through her stockings. Fingers sliding over the edge of a worn-down brick, she finds a brief second to concentrate and blinks herself up onto the lip of the wall, rolling ungracefully onto her side as she assesses the damage.

Well, any pride or dignity I might have had is long since dead at this point, and I'm out sixty gold for the dress, minus nine hundred for failing the mission. I guess I can walk, though.

Wincing as she gets up, the mesmer checks for any sign of patrolling guards before making a more controlled descent down the other side and finally starting on her way home.

[Quiet Man Cometh]

Leaving his party clothes in a balled up heap on the bed in his room, Syrgei takes a minute to stretch his muscles out and patch up his latest collection of scratches, electrical burns and, in this case, bullet wounds.

“I think I get to call in a favour from the seraph for this one” he mutters, putting on some regular clothes and pulling out the pony-tail on the top of his head.

If anyone decides to be unruly downstairs, they can wait until I've had a drink.

In spite of his 'wandering adventurer, sometimes seraph agent' status, Syrgei kept up his room at his friend's tavern, occasionally serving as informal bouncer. The folding of the guild hadn't affected his daily life all that much, save that he spent less time experiencing 'daily life' and more time being farther away and in conflict with things he couldn't always name.

A voice calls up to him as he comes down the stairs.

“Either cut your hair or put it back up, you look soft with it hanging that long.”

Petra stands behind the bar, leaning on the counter.

“It's about time you came back anyway. What mess did you have to sort out this time?”

Syrgei takes a seat and leans on one elbow.

“I'd rather not talk about it save that our good minster will have one hell of a repair bill, and no, it's not my fault.”

Petra smirks around a comment she was just about to make.

“You should have taken me along, I'd like to see what the nobles' idea of a party is.”

She puts a full mug on the table.

“Talking and fancy names for boring food,” he says, accepting the ale.

There of course had been more to it than that, but he expected Petra didn't need any extra details, and she would probably give him an earful for trying to plant explosives on a golem, even if it did work, somewhat. He thinks back to his sudden encounter with Tsaerri. He certainly hadn't expected to see her there, though she hasn't seem to have changed much. She has probably already forgotten about him.