Originally Posted by
grampagen
When Ishtar raised her hand towards the Hybrid Cyborg, though the thoughts were not voiced the way the air twist and curdled around Glacia was enough to telgraph to Ochazuke her intention. In the exact moment the magics plucked the metal dispersed within her frame, to only was the damage gruesome, but the pliable Threshling anatomy succoring the wounds did not escapte his notice.
Having such fundamental components ripped from her machine-precise frame, perhaps you are more vulnerable than your creator might believe.
Within the dispersed range of his sense-awareness, Ochazuke sought another target within; a weak point, perhaps, that led to the mechanical core that drove this haughty creature.
It was then the lethal beams at each of her fingertips caught his attention. Though she spoke no words, these dealers of death were far to near, both in this battle and in memory.
Dashing his hands together, he braced himself.
Fortunately, the Sheriff appeared, and along with Nevanlinna scattered and diverted the lethal array. In this brief reprieve, Ochazuke allowed himself a sigh of relief; through the psychic uplink, his senses seemed to redouble for their collective effort as he targetted Glacia's rendered weakpoints.
Well struck. Perhaps their time among them had finally curtailed them from the path of aloof strangers. This one knows only a twisted, uncontested existence.
Unchallenged, why should these abominations examine the content of their being? Perhaps if they were created from components across time, what more did they require to persist but their strength and the vile course upon which to enact it? Setting foot on the Lookout's shattered observation deck, Ochazuke rose to a neutral stance watching an alternate of his martial brother move in tandem with the others. Standing tall, he grit his teeth, settled into Sanchin, the stance of combative habit.
If you can keep her occupied for a moment, so much the better...
Face to face with this Glacia, one who would so contemptuously tear through worlds for little more than a sadistic purpose, he had fallen the formative Crane's Stance he attempted to bolster his defenses. Ever wary that even a single moment could be the last, it was ingrained within him that a warrior should not be so careless with his life.
Yet as his meditation field rose and stretched over the battlefield, he knew this was exactly why he could ill be at ease. Resonating with the spirit of the planet, he knew that if they did not stand before the Doctor's designs, all else would come to ruin.
We're outmatched. Yet all that stands between them and making our world another dead Divergence...
Then, in figments, a gradual trickle, it came. Tiny whisps to the near eye, no more illuminate than the curtain of chaff so far above, slowly began to gather. In the wake of the violence upon the Lookout it was no more distinguished than the dust thrown from their clashes.
Resonating with all his sense brushed against around Capital City, while he was searching for their foes there was much he had initially dismissed in the moment. Benign, insignificant living presences.
The blades of grass. Beats of glassy insect wings. The whisper and sway of tree boughs, scattering leaves over where their iron roots sunk deep.
So connected with the Earth, inadvertently it seemed the planet felt the threat in kind, and accordingly it responded. Just like the unified enegry that drove his martial ancestors, for a moment Ochazuke saw clearly the Hidden Hand of Zxu'ro. Exhaling gently and loosening his stance, he gave his intent over to the flow of these tiny spirits, and as the energy accumulated he slowly began to find his realization.
It started first with an understanding of one's place in this world in relation to others. Feeling the world turn beneath him, he eased his pride and made the silent plea.
Grant me your energy.
Tracing the path of these ambient energies, there was a certain sublime radiance to it. Unlike the warmth of ki execution, not the cathartic rupture of shattering the bonds of limitation, the Master's method of gathering of the energy into a collected form felt disconnected. Cool, awash in relief, the knowledge of the unspoken will felt to Ochazuke as if even these tiny efforts could raise themselves together, they would stand to a greater height unknown and without limitation. As he relaxed, the energies pouring in supported his will; as they unified, gradually his focus sharpened.
It was then he realized, amid the gradual airy whispers of ten thousand static wills, there was something else far closer. Anguish, loss bled off of Etrina, certainly, but there was something else. It resonated there, a type of energy he'd never before wielded, but something intuitively screamed out in the ether.
A will, a pronounced desire to proclaim itself as its own living existence.
At that moment he opened his senses further to discern what it was.
Genki Charge: 2