Snippet #2827755

Cordelia abruptly skidded to a stop, a voice addressing her from the shadows. Turning to look, her gaze swept the expansive library, and a silent thought echoed within her: damn, there's far more going on in here than I expected. It was then she stood up straight, though a slight quiver could be seen as she tried to present herself in a dignified manner. It wasn't fear, as much as, she seemed rather... self-concious.

"Feel..? You can sense the Un?" she inquired, her voice carrying a peculiar blend of pleasantness and hollowness, as if the words echoed within her. There was an accent there, distinctly English. A glimmer flickered in the hollows of her metal mask's holes as she shifted her gaze to the Minutemen and assassins entangled in battle. Stepping back, blades concealed within her ornate cloth revealed themselves, akin to a bird puffing up defensively. One thing became evident as her cloth flowed—she has no arms, at least in the tangible sense.

"Wait, what is the meaning of this!? Have you no grasp of... ah!" Her plea for understanding was abruptly cut off in a shriek as the tall, lanky figure made his entrance. A silvery rift opened above, and OttO slipped through, descending with graceful ease. He stepped out upon the ceiling, dropping down in a flip before one of the Minutemen. His arrival wasn't marked by a bang, but a muted rumble that briefly caused the ground to ripple, as if it was for a moment liquefied. The air itself quivered as he locked eyes with the Minuteman, his own gaze holding a vague and enigmatic quality.

"Ah, a protector against the unraveling chaos? Salutations! I bow to your noble intentions," OttO declared with a dignified voice that resonated through the tumultuous atmosphere. He gave the Minuteman a bow, and the sound around them distorted, leaving only OttO's voice audible over the chaos. "Sadly, no matter your attempt, that terrible end shall never be averted. No matter how much overgrowth you prune, in fact, perhaps your crusade is even the catalyst for the cascade of magnifying chaos that follows, until... dust. How arbitrary this Sacred Timeline is, then, isn't it?"

"Unmaker, you taint sacred ground, surrender now and return to the Abyss!" Cordelia demanded, pushing back her timid nature to try to assert authority, but her soft voice only barely peaked over the chaos.