[P] I'll cool your fever till the doctor comes;

[Raum]

 
Gods. They meant nothing to Raum. The only one that mattered, that would ever matter was Calligo with her wild, generous shadows. He would be glad to remind this mortal god so. Remind him how fallible he is and how foolish it was to become mortal – if it had ever been a choice to begin with.
 
His goddess, good and giving, shrouds them in night, banishes light from the sky, so not even the stars can watch their deeds this night. Slowly the rest of the Crows creep out of her darkness. Their smiles are electric and so full of teeth and claws that promise violence and misery. Reichenbach is feral magic. His presence is an intoxicating liquor designed to punch and cut and bite. Raum’s feels its force, its coming is like electric air before a storm.
 
Acton delivers his quip and an ear twists to listen in, to catch the snide remark. But it does not stir Raum, it does not inspire a smile to curl his lips, instead the Ghost steps back into the darkness, disappearing into shadow and night.
 
It is unclear where he goes, shrouded in shadow as he is. Maybe his Crows know him well enough to know he would be scoping, listening, watching, for any who might over hear them or stray too close. Content, they are alone, he returns to his Crows in time to watch Reichenbach rise up for the first strike. His limbs are serpents but their bite is to be something far more terrible. They coil back, and in the silence of that split second Raum’s knife unsheathes with a shivering, feverish sigh.
 
The first strike of their King’s serpent limbs is a crack. It draws out a spray of blood that splatters the snow like thrown rubies. More blood joins the first spray, and Raum is in motion, silent and swift. Only the snow betrays him, leaving his footprints like a tattoo across its pallid face.
 
From the darkness the quicksilver Crow launches. His dagger glints malevolently in the moonlight and it strikes hard into flesh and bone. It reaches for the softness of lungs, to release what air might be there. But it collision with bone is hard and unsatisfying. Such a hard end was an ominous sign and in the darkness, as the dagger peels back, Calligo’s shadows unfurl to reveal a broken blade. Its tip is jagged where it should be smooth. He could only hope its deep was done at its end and that it was not just his blade that broke, but the victim’s ribs too.
 
Black eyes flash like ravens wings and he looks across to Acton. “What the fuck have you done to my blades in my absence?” Raum hisses, furious and bereft. This dagger was his finest, but in a moment he casts the weapon aside and unfurls the cobalt blue scarf from about his throat. At least there was one weapon that would not let him down.

@Reichenbach, @Acton, @Lavinia, @Lysander fight, fight, fight.