Posts Tagged ‘POV Sara’

Ch. 18.3 – Sara

Sara locked her fingers around Alex’s hand, holding on as though he could vanish if she slipped. Stay with me, she thought, their minds echoing into one another. Always, she heard in her own mind, with his voice, a communion more than telepathy, more than Vision.

Relief gave way to fury as they turned on their targets. The Quadrum Regime invader and Sovereign Mandate traitor retreated together, Knight and Weaver advancing relentlessly on them. “Time to answer for what you’ve done, Travesty,” Sara demanded, making a fist. Her Weaving choked West’s Vision down to a trickle, barely maintaining contact with his mercenary.

“Prime,” Dologur grunted, “get us out of here.”

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Ch. 18.1 – Sara

Chanting in ancient languages, Sara Taylor channeled the full might of Weaving into her body and through her soul. I remember, she thought, almost weeping at the glory flowing through her. This is why we call it Majestic. Through his puppet, Travis drove his brutal Vision at the Weaver. Spikes of cruel privilege and chains of ruthless dominance sought to bind her will. From his assault, Sara’s threads fed her an image of West himself, sitting on his pseudo-throne in the blimp. Travis’ entire body was rigid, fingers twisted around the armrests, suit spattered with blood, the merest hint of enraged spittle on his lips. Ew.

Sara’s smile was serene in spite of what West had done to her. With a casual twitch of her fingers, she unraveled his attacks with the Weave. “It’s over, West,” Night Weaver taunted, circling the armored Regnant. “Please, don’t give up.”

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Ch. 15.3 – Sara

Sara lounged on the recliner, looking around the now-empty living room. Relax. Relax, Sara. It’s going to be fine. We’ve got three Primes, an angel, and some of the greatest Majestics who’ve ever lived on this. She glanced towards the bedroom she shared with Alex. My knight. You know what we’re getting into, don’t you? The Weaver grinned. I’ll give you a little longer to brood. Then…

Her gaze shifted to watch Akira as the Anshin came into the living room. The smell of mint drifted in around him. “Is everything all right, my lady Weaver?”

“Sure. We’re just walking into an obvious trap after getting lucky more times than anyone has a right to.” Sara twitched her fingers in the air, gently directing the Weave. “We might make our own luck, but that only works for so long.”

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Ch. 14.2 – Sara

I’m going to kill them, Sara brooded, not for the first time that day.

She didn’t mean it, of course. After an hour of nit-picking, formal minutiae, and deliberate nonsense, though, the Weaver was one insult away from telling the Alliance of Idiocy to sod off. Nehru rubbed her chin, and Sara prepared to unleash all her frustration. “Neither of us means to belittle you union’s potential benefit,” the Oracle said, and Sara bit back her outburst. “Social and cultural constructs have their value. There’s no denying that Majestics talented in Blaze have some trouble finding roles in each of the existing Four Allies. We simply question whether that role is enough for your Bastions to qualify as an entire faction.”

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Ch. 13.2 – Sara

Sara Taylor stretched languorously on the cabin’s sofa. She wore a long black T-shirt, purple leggings and lacy black socks, suiting her trim, lithe frame. Maxwell watched with less interest than usual. Still, there’s some, and considering how he’s been around Victor since Rifty Hotness showed up, I’ve still got it. She grinned at him. “Enjoying the log cabin life, Maxie?”

“It’s not made of logs,” Max drawled, then flipped genders. This Maxine was curvy and muscular, looking as much the amazon as Molly. “What’s with the vamp look?”

Sara laughed. “Take a guess.” She looked out the window, enjoying the sight of the sky painted orange and purple. “Darkling time is upon us, and I have a sunboy to seduce.”

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Ch. 12.2 – Sara

The click of the bracelet around her wrist was the only mundane sound, but Sara’s Vision-self rang like chimes. Goddess. I didn’t feel whole without it. Even as her hands beckoned to the air, Rose was charging towards the section of roof where Ekaida was fighting Alex and Molly. Bastion, call him Bastion, she reminded herself. “Thanks, Victor,” she said, Weaving the threads of the world to favor her friends.

“You let Travis West capture you to rescue me,” Victor replied, shuddering. “Getting your power bracelet back, the one you lost to get me out, isn’t much by comparison.”

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Ch. 10.3 – Sara

Strapped to a cross between a dolly and a stretcher, paralyzed from the neck down by something pinching the back of her neck, Sara could only glance at her surroundings as the gray-suited Mandate agents wheeled her into the elevator. I really hope this wasn’t stupid after all, she thought, her inability to shiver a thin silver lining to a very dark cloud.

At least the gilding’s pretty. She had just enough time to note two expensive-looking paintings and a swirly vase before the elevator doors closed. “So your boss even decorates his dungeons? Boy needs a hobby,” she quipped to the agents.

One of them smiled thinly back at her, his eyes shrouded behind sunglasses straight from central casting. “Thanks for volunteering, freak.,” he retorted.

“Me? Nah, I’m boring. I can’t even seduce a boy scout,” Sara chuckled. The suits had no response to that, and before she could probe further, the elevator opened again. In spite of herself, the Weaver whistled.

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Ch. 9.3 – Sara

The Weave sang with a sense of rightness. Sara sighed happily and played the threads in harmony with it. I don’t want to call it destiny, she mused, but this is easier than falling. Less painful, too, she quipped to herself. Molly glanced over at where the Weaver sat, her eyes flickering to Sara’s gently grasping fingers. Sara grinned. “Just helping the arc of history bend along. It’s like getting water to flow downhill.”

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Ch. 8.3 – Sara

“Anna!” Sara blurted, throwing her arms around the visitor. She tipped the woman’s wide-brimmed hat back and grinned. “You changed your hair back!”

“I felt like going auburn today,” she replied, “but I’m still using ‘Nicole,’ Sara.”

Sara sighed and rolled her eyes. “Right, right, Nicole.” The grin returned. “Imp.”

Nicole shoved a large shopping bag into Sara’s arms, then walked into Alex’s apartment. “Sara, dear, I enjoyed the goth look in the 90s, but it was passé before you were old enough to properly look the part.”

Digging through the bag, Sara found the black leggings, purple tank-top, and industrial boots she’d asked for. “I like how I look like this. Fashion can go trend itself. Thanks, An – Nicole.” She put the bag on the room’s only sofa. “How are things with the Council?”

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Ch. 7.2 – Sara

“…there were the Daimani,” Akira said. Max’s jaw dropped. Sara kept her smile to herself. “Some Anshin insist that we were born of the Kirbans,” he continued, and Alex’s blink seemed somehow as stunned as Max’s more overt reaction, “but the Kirbans do not speak of it, and if my colleagues were not mistaken, I am certain the ancients would confirm this.”

“Um, ‘Kirbans?’ What?” Alex blurted.

“Those who remain behind from the species who have Transcended mortal existence,” Akira explained. “They are both part of this universe and beyond it at the same time.”

“You keep this up,” Max muttered, “and I might have to start to like you.” He glanced at Alex. “Some Anshin believe their existence derives from the Kirbans. It might be metaphorically true.”

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