Ambivalent [JackalxReaders]

Inhumane [JackalxMage!Reader]

 Set in the cannonverse.

Amorphous, prodigious clouds complemented with a trace of grey command the sky. The obtuse emperors sit at the crest and marvel their paramount position while the armada of smaller clouds lethargically follow behind them, effectively rivaling a sloth's pace. A rambunctious zephyr terrorizes the land, lifting sundry objects into its solidified clutch; it communicates with the clouds at a breakneck speed and prompts them to release rain. The emperors debate for a moment, but eventually reconcile with the zephyr's suggestion and relinquish the most impactful asset, rain.

The gargantuan fleet departs from the clouds and thrusts downward, gravity aiding in their barrage. It undergoes an arduous task to reach the desired location, some members disintegrating prior to perceiving it. The rain salvos the crust indefatigably, shelling out the utter power of the emperors. It bombards everything, spurring unmeasurable torrent and fails to let a single target escape unscathed, including you.

You solicit sanctuary under illimitable, fortified trees that have been spectators to assaults replicating this one. The vast leaves rich in chlorophyll divert a surplus of rain and spare your already saturated clothes; you lean against the uncomfortable bark and cross your arms, fending off the glacial tempests and retaining your body heat. Regrets of ever arranging a meeting in this location devour your mind, but it'll be fruitful in the end. That aspect alone is propelling your endurance.

Being profound member of a small dark guild and aligning with elephantine, menacing obscure guilds was a dramatic gamble. The probability of being allowed into such a barbaric subgroup was extremely low and undependable; miraculously, you cleared all of the set, hushed requirements and provided your guild safe passage into egregious, opaque waters. However, despite attaining membership for the covert operations, your allies have the ability to terminate you and your guild if your contribution to information lacks.

That's why you're here, showcasing tenacity in a ghastly storm. You're going to secure your position in the alliance once the representative from Tartaros arrives by handing over imperative information.

You tap your foot impatiently, gaze glossing over the terrane in search for the representative. There's no one around, you're completely isolated. You purse your lips, this person is trampling over your patience without regard, like it's become a sport.

This guy is an hour late. An hour late.

The rain alters from its vicious key and melds into background music; the rhythmic pellets permit a peculiar calming sentiment and lull your eyes shut. Your heart's routine, subtle pulse resonates through your mind, adding a diverse—yet pleasing—instrument to the symphony conducted by nature. Wind inspects and duplicates the role for elegant violins, the hairs on your arm sprouting up as a reply. It's certainly bizarre how the storm can adopt different behaviors and display them at sporadic times. Or maybe it's simply that you've become more accustomed to it—expecting and preparing for it.

Your vexation towards the late member subsides as subtle snores depart from your mouth, your consciousness retracting from the materialistic world. It's better if you sleep through the wait, that way you're able to stockpile energy if demanded.

A stentorian burst of thunder rapidly rouses you from sleep. Your muscles taunt involuntarily and survival mechanisms activate while you swiftly scan the area. The rain is still present, as if it's gained an omnipotent ability, but other than that, you're still alone, waiting. With caution surrounding you and forming an impenetrable bubble, you hesitantly relax your muscles, conserving energy. The thunder was just a false alarm, fabricating potential danger. You glance over the area once again, just to promote temporary safety.