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ensorra

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Flash and bang.

Rooftop to rooftop.

Morrigan is disoriented as hell, which luckily doesn't show. (Armour.)

The disorientation doesn't improve when she recognizes New York.

...well, half of New York.

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Look! It's the guy that almost set her on fire.

Which is to say, Emrys Fian, in his Bishop Form, is wandering down the street on his motorbike, bowgun resting against his shoulder.

...hey.

Morrigan spreads her wings and takes off from the edge of the roof, following the Rider with the bowgun.

It's broad daylight (what the fuck) and she's, well, still Ensorra. Sor' is pretty much resigned to the fact that he'll be looking up at her shortly.

When he does, it's to turn and shoot.

Not at her, though the bolt of energy passes close enough that it looks like he might have been aiming at her. It hits a lone triffid ambling along one of the roofs. Two more shots and it goes tumbling off, burning.

She snap-rolls to the side, lands on a roof, switches modes, and is down the side of the building and keeping easy pace with Emrys Fian before the triffid hits the pavement.

"Hey, Tomas," she says cheerfully.

(C'mon, it wasn't that difficult a deduction. How many Kamen Riders can one city hold? Seriously.)

"Mind telling me what the fuck's going on?"

As a note, the bike isn't really there. That was a tag-mistake. Walking! The bike's off being used for lights. Retcon!

Emrys Fian is, perhaps, mute, or maybe just effectively mute by way of not wanting to speak, because all Ensorra gets is a look. A look that somehow manages to communicate snark even through the mask.

He'll dispense with the armour when she does. Then they can talk - Primarily because he won't feel the urge to remain stoically silent anymore.

Hell no I am not getting rid of my armour you stubborn bastard, says Ensorra's body language.

It is very talkative.

He somehow manages to convey a nonchalant shrug without actually shrugging at all.

Talent.

Okay.

Sor' can be stubborn too.

In the way where she clasps clawed hands behind her back and keeps walking. Silently.

Well. This is nice.

Tomas seems perfectly content to keep walking, occasionally gunning down triffids if he sees them approaching.

"Okay, seriously, what are those?"

She frowns.

"And, you know. Where are we? How did we get here? All those fun questions."

For all that he reacts, she might as well not have said anything.

"Son of a bitch. Okay, if this is some kind of crazy stubborn not-depowering-until-you-do thing, can I remind you how stupidly bad of an idea it is for both of us to walk around without our armour in unknown territory full of creepy hostile green things? I mean, unless you're just shooting them for fun. Fuck knows."

Tomas acknowledges the validity of this argument!

He acknowledges it with silence.

"Uh-huh. We get overrun by tree things, I'm blamin' you."

And with that, she crosses her arms and... well, for one thing, gets four inches shorter. Fucking boots.

Tomas unclips his belt, moving to sling it onto his shoulder as his armour dissolves.

"Hey."

Her own belt dangles from a hand, and she glares petulantly.

"'Ey."

Heavy French accent: go!

"Qu'-est-ce qui se passe? What is going on here?"

"You've been transported to a post-apocalyptic carnivorous-tree-infested New York in another world. All clear?"

She thinks about this one for a moment, then nods.

"Oui. Do you know how?"

"No clue."

"Well, fuck."

That about sums up the situation.

"Not right now."

"I will hurt you if you make that joke again."

Tomas just sticks his tongue out.

Petulant glare.

"There are people down in the subway - Two more. We can use your motorcycle for extra lighting."

"Great. I hate that thing, anyways. Bloody pointless when I can outrun my own damn bike."

Tomas snorts, quietly.

She laughs.

"Seriously. Gimme a vehicle that can break the sound barrier. Until then, I'm happy on my own two feet."

"Good for you."

"Shove it."

"No need to be mean."

Noncommittal grunt.

Tomas rolls his eyes.

Sor' rolls her eyes right back!

They could have a contest!

Tomas decides against this.

"Follow me, then. I'll take you back to the subway."

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