"It is always hard to watch those that you love drift away."

Esmerion is pretty sure his stomach isn't going to hold still much longer.

Slowly, he exhales, closing his eyes with a small motion. "So ye're sayin', that there were Blood Goblins, an' ye didn't tell me?!"

The group flinches back with expressions of guilt.

"Is there anythin' else that I need to know about?"

Jim hesitates, and immediately finds Esmerion's furious gaze burning holes in his own eyes. He shrinks in on himself, trying to escape through the a gap in the group, but Aaarrrgghh blocks the escape route before he can even take it.

"Jim?" Esmerion leans forward on his crutch, a vaguely threatening tone entering his voice. He reeks with power, magic flowing from his core at a gentle pace. "Do ye 'ave somethin' to say?"

His glare grows more stifling, and Jim wants nothing more than to duck behind Claire and Toby. It doesn't help that Munnin has perched himself on Aaarrrgghh's head and is croaking at him in an almost mocking way.

"We're not goin' any farther into Trollmarket unless ye tell me," Esmerion claims, and he jerks his head toward Aaarrrgghh, who side steps and blocks off the crystal stairs. Silently, he notes that there is no evidence of his previously spilt blood in the chamber.

"All right, all right!" He cracks under the pressure, waving his hands about with distress. "One of the Goblins said something else got out of the Darklands."

Esmerion's eyes widen and he swears, snarling at nothing as he considers this information. At best, only a few Gumm-Gumms got out. At worst... well, he can't quite decide whether Gunmar or Mordred is worse.

"None of ye will say anythin' about this in Trollmarket," he orders, sounding not unlike Kanjigar in the moment. "I can tell Draal, but anythin' else will cause unnecessary panic. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," Blinkous states with a passive voice before turning and starting down the stairs.

Aaarrrgghh has the polite decency to offer Esmerion a lift, to which the male gratefully accepts. He smiles in his friendly way and gently scoops him up, placing him on his mossy shoulders.

Settling himself and his crutch, Esmerion rubs the ruff of feathers on top of Munnin's head, making the raven croon happily. Jim meanders nearby, letting the others meander down into Trollmarket as he silently promises to join Claire.

"Somethin' ye need, Jim?" Esmerion asks with vague interest, paying more attention to his companion than his foster-brother.

"Are you okay?"

Esmerion smiles grimly, still stroking Munnin's feathers as he considers his response. There is no honest answer he can give without telling the boy everything, and he isn't ready to share anything more than necessary.

"Never better," he says, because a half truth won't harm anyone. But it's hardly believable, and he knows it from the way Jim looks at him.

Jim folds his arms across his chest, frowning at the male atop Aaarrrgghh's shoulders. "Doesn't look like it. You had a fight with Mom, didn't you? She was crying when we left the other day."

"I'm not a wee laddie, ye know," he chides, gently gripping Aaarrrgghh's mossy fur with bandaged hands. "I can care for m'self well enough without some lass tryin' to influence me."

"She only cares for you." Jim sounds upset, and Esmerion doesn't blame the young lad, knowing he would react the same if the situation were reversed. "You had no reason to upset her!"

"Jim, ye do remember that we were both stuck in the Darklands, don't ye?" Esmerion snaps, glaring at him sharply. "Yer glad to be free of it, I understand, an' that's all well an' good, but ye didn't do what I did."

Aaarrrgghh rumbles quietly in warning, eyeing the male he carries with a wary gaze. "No fight."

"My apologies, valiant friend," Esmerions apologises with a firm pat on his head. "Look, Jim, I'm not the same person ye an' yer mother know. I cannae be the boy ye both expect."

After several long moments, Jim nods. It's not a confident action, nor is it one he wishes to express, but he understands. Esmerion is no longer Tyler, and he hasn't been for some time.

Esmerion chooses not to speak after that, focusing on the attention he has deprived Munnin of. The raven makes a right fuss about it too, as though knowing exactly what he deserves and demanding more of it. He behaves like he knows that Esmerion has been under an immense stress and experienced an agony like no other, and almost seeks to soothe that pain through distraction. Were he human, Esmerion might say that Munnin was his familiar, by how in tune he is to the male's emotions.

The moment grows sombre, and Esmerion's eyes become hooded as his mind swirls with unrest. Aaarrrgghh knocks against the cavern wall as he stays clear of the ledge and Esmerion sways, a vivid flash of savage memory stealing his sight from him. Instead of beautiful glowing crystals, he stares at the face of Claire Nuñez, an unnatural and unforgettable craving gnawing at the knot of his stomach. He can see his own slobber splatter against her cheek and smells the fear radiating from her as he presses his nose so close to her face.

He freezes, his shoulders locking up and his hands gripping the fur beneath them with a grip like iron manacles. His breath draws short and suddenly he's scrambling for air that won't come, unable to do so much as gasp. Copper is all he tastes, his teeth having torn through his lip as he grinds them together.

His ride stops, though he doesn't acknowledge it, too far gone in a downward spiral of hatred of his own actions and knowledge of the things his own hands have done. Low rumbles softly soothe his horror, soft purrs of comfort slowly convincing Esmerion to shut his eyes, letting darkness take control of his eyesight once more. But still he panics, a heat developing in the pit of his stomach that does not blossom from the sight of his dearest one, but rather from the magic that he sets upon the version of himself that he hates.

"Careful," Aaarrrgghh warns with a voice so quiet that he almost isn't heard. "You hate self. Not good for magic."

His voice brings a gentle cool to the crackling heat of Esmerion's magic in a way that few have ever achieved, the last to soothe such a panic being of a much more intimate relation. Esmerion's airway opens, and he breathes once more, sucking in a deep breath that cools his insides like a glass of water.

"I don't hate m'self," he claims with a croak.

"Not wrong to question." Aaarrrgghh touches his leg with a hand gentle enough to be a feather. "Fear okay."

"No, it's not." Esmerion swipes at his eyes, drying them of what he thought might have been tears. His throat feels dry like sand, and thick like mud, a sore sensation growing by his tonsils.

"Tried best, did well." The Troll glances up at him with a reassuring smile that could soften even obsidian. "Nothing you could do."

Snarling quietly, Esmerion shakes his head, finally opening his eyes once more. He can't look down at those kind eyes and forgiving expression, and resigns himself to getting back on the ground.

Aaarrrgghh accepts this, and carefully picks the male from his shoulders and places him on the stone floor, where the crystal staircase ends. The others are gone, disappeared into the streets of Trollmarket to perform tasks expected of them, so it leaves only the two of them. That's all right for this moment, and Aaarrrgghh lets Esmerion be, watching him carefully for any sign that he might behave irrationally after his panic attack.

Esmerion shrugs off the concern and fits his crutch under his arm, flinching when Munnin chooses to land on his shoulder. With a hobble in his step and far too many eyes watching him, he wanders into the open. The Trolls here are wary of him, and he takes no joy from that knowledge like he might have done once. He hurt people here, and he didn't mean for it at all.

A short whine of discomfort tears itself from his locked jaw as a large Troll knocks his side, nearly bowling him over entirely. He turns his head down, completely blocking the face of the assailant, and completely forgoing every aspect of his nature to be dominant in every situation.

"You nearly killed my son," the Troll says, his teeth bared in a feral display.

"I nearly killed m'self," Esmerion returns with a tone of fragility. "Was 'e the one tae hold me like meat for butcher?"

"He should have cut you for slaughter the moment he laid his eyes on you, Changeling or otherwise," he growls, bending to be level with the male's bowed head.

"Ye know what?" Esmerion chuckles quietly to himself, sounding like a tortured snake. "That's funny. I was thinkin' just the same."

"You think this is funny, do ya?"

"I reckon he thinks it's hilarious that you're threatening him while I'm standing so close behind you."

"I was beginnin' to wonder when ye would speak up," Esmerion glances at his partner with a grim smile. "Lovely to see ye, Draal."

"Likewise, Esmerion," the blue Troll greets pleasantly, despite the dark look he pins the other Troll with. "Why don't you run along, Makas?"

"You defend this creature?" 'Makas' raises his hackles, looking ready to lash out at the warrior. "Have you no shame?!"

Esmerion glances between the two males with a tired expression bordering on satisfaction, not moving from where he stands. While he would much rather fight his own battles, he is willing to hand this one to Draal for the mere sake of pleasant entertainment and watching his beloved fight.

"If I am all that stands between him and danger, then I never had any," Draal fires back at the Troll, edging around to stand in front of Esmerion.

The male smiles to himself, paying no attention to anything but Draal's back as he fills out into a fighting stance. He grins, and maybe he isn't looking at his partner's back anymore.

"Ye 'ad it once, a long while ago," Esmerion reminds his partner with a softly chiding voice. But his dark mood is gone, and he can't find himself thinking back on it.

Draal shoots him a brief glare, turning back to the offending Makas with a merciless expression. "Either take back what was said or we can settle our differences another way."

The Troll scoffs, rolling his shoulders and widening his stance. A crowd has started to gather, although luck would have it that Jim and his friends have yet to make any sort of appearance. Not that they would be able to intervene in a Troll fight for honour.

"Kick 'is arse, Clach-theine," Esmerion bids, smirking at Draal with an expression that says more than it ought to.

Draal grins, pleased both with this encouragement and the opportunity to fight, and cracks his knuckles with anticipation. He brings himself down on all fours, bracing himself just in time for Makas to collide with him.

He slides back by a few feet, then surges forward with a snarl, grabbing his opponent by the horns. They grapple, turning circles around the space the crowd has left for them. Butting his horns against Makas', Draal growls out a threat, making clear to him that he made things personal.

The slight distraction is enough for Draal to gain the upper hand and throw him across the stone.

By now, the sounds of their scuffle echoes throughout Trollmarket, making the crystals in the walls tremor. So it comes as no surprise when Esmerion spots Aaarrrgghh standing as an observer in the crowd, lifting Toby so the boy can watch with ease. Nor is Jim's frantic appearance unexpected.

From the corner of his eye, Esmerion watches as Jim starts shouting, drowned out by the cheers of everyone else, and eventually make his way over to the male's position. The boy has donned Daylight, but his eyes are wild with confusion.

"Ye cannae interfere with this, lad." Esmerion grins as Draal throws a wicked punch to Makas' jaw. "This is a personal affair. Troll law forbids it."

"But what happened?!" Jim is a little more than frantic now, clearly attempting to figure out how to separate the two Trolls.

"Never threaten that which is most dear to a Troll." A warm rumble fills his chest, a purr-like sound of adoration and desire, making Jim give him a strange look. "They are willing to fight tae the death if necessary."

Jim pales, the colour running from his cheeks as he turns his gaze back to the fight. "Draal won't do that, right?"

"Since Makas did nothin' to me, I doubt 'e'll take it that far." Esmerion considers the possibility of Draal finishing the fight, deciding that the warrior would prefer it be over and done with sooner rather than later. "They'll be done soon enough."

'Soon enough' arrives sooner than expected, with Draal pinning Makas to the ground with a vice-like grip on the Troll's throat. He snarls like an animal, his eyes beady and dark. His lips form words around his tusks, their meaning lost to the cheers of the audience, but seeing how Makas goes limp, it's clear that it was an order for a yield.

Esmerion rumbles again, smiling to himself as Draal stands, this time free of any offending Troll. There's a pride that swells within him, a pride for his partner and mate, and a satisfaction that comes with having the utmost pleasure of being so close with him.

"Well done, dearest," Esmerion praises, leaning forward to gently butt heads with Draal. "Ye did yerself proud."

"Did you proud," Draal corrects softly, purring quietly despite the great collection of staring faces.

"One moment, Clach-theine." He draws away from the affection he craves so much, darkened eyes narrowing at the crowd. "Don't ye all 'ave somethin' better tae do with yer time?!"

Trolls scatter at his accusation, scrambling over each other to clear the street. Aaarrrgghh remains where he is, keeping his hands up high to save Toby from the frantic stampede. Even Jim jumps out of the way to avoid being squashed.

"Much better, don't ye think?" Esmerion purrs, leaning into Draal's chest with a smirk that rapidly changes as he squawks in indignation when his partner scoops him into his arms. "Oi!"

"We have things to discuss," Draal points out, speaking loud enough for Jim to overhear and understand at least partly. "And other things to do."

"Easy, I still 'ave stitches." He lightly whacks his partner with his crutch, jabbing a finger in his direction. "An' I still need to thank whoever healed me burns. Did a 'elluva good job, they did."

"Vendel would be pleased to know that."

"Oh, an' before I forget," Esmerion pauses, butting his head more firmly against Draal's, "ye did a fantastic job of fillin' in for my absence. Downright 'andy, that little talisman is."

Draal rumbles, immensely pleased by his partner's butting. "Can't be used anymore. It got crushed in the Gyre crash."

Esmerion huffs, practically pouting as he leans back into Draal's arms. "Now that is a shame."

《《》》

"I'm only 'ere 'cause ye invited me, Jim," Esmerion growls, straightening his jacket. "I'm sure Claire would rather I wasn't."

"You'll be fine," Jim reassures while fretting about his own appearances.

Another minute passes as they stand in front of the door, without sign of being noticed. Esmerion bounces on his toes, wincing slightly as it hurts.

Sighing, Jim turns to his foster-brother, "Did you actually knock?"

"Was wondering 'ow long it would take ye to notice," he chuckles lightly, shaking his head. "But believe it or not, I did."

He frowns, sniffing slightly as he looks around with confusion. After a long sniff at the door, he gently turns the door handle and pushes it open. The amount of people inside is more than he had anticipated, and explains why nobody had opened the door for them, but that's not what has captured Esmerion's attention.

"Ye weren't 'ere earlier, were ye, Jim?"

"What? No." Jim scowls at the male in confusion. "Why'd you ask?"

"Yer scent is everywhere," he admits in a low voice. "Like a cat markin' its territory."

A glare has him taking back those words with a hand raised in surrender, muttering about sensitive topics.

"Oh."

"What is it-" Another Jim prances in front of them, donning a yellow jacket in place of the usual blue. "Oh."

New Jim turns to face them and grins at Esmerion, happily skipping over to grab his hand. "Oh, brother! How good of you to grace us with your presence!"

"Oh Lord, it's like drunk Lancelot all over again." Esmerion carefully pries his hand out of New Jim's and retracts it to his pocket. "Save the dramatics for someone who 'asn't spent a lifetime in politics. Jim, call Blinkous."

"Yeah, no argument there." Jim rips out the phone from his pocket and dials in a number that presumably belongs to aforementioned Troll. "Blinky, there's a problem."

"Stay out of sight," Esmerion warns, limping in to the house with an air of caution. "We don't want to start an uproar."

"Sure, sure." Jim waves him away, stepping back onto the street as he splutters his confusion through the phone.

Making a low sound of contemplation, Esmerion turns away from the Trollhunter, focusing his long-since-used dusty political mask on the members of the party. While he is here upon Jim's request, he wants to use this opportunity to his advantage and gain some form of favour from the people here. It isn't all that different from one of Uther's grand balls, where the former king earned the favour of political allies, and where Esmerion taught Arthur to learn the language of politicians.

"Hello, ma'am," he greets suddenly to a passing woman, easily identifiable as Claire's mother and campaigner for mayor of Arcadia Oaks. His head bows slightly, and he makes a small show of showing her basic respect. "Mrs. Nuñez, was it?"

"Yes, indeed." She stops what she's doing and faces him with a kind face that shows that she has yet to identify the male as a politician. "Who might you be?"

"Tyler Reynolds, pleasure to meet ye." He takes her hand as offered, but instead of shaking it as she expects, he lifts it and kisses her knuckles. "I'm afraid this is the first of times we 'ave encountered each other."

"Oh, I see we have another potential politician here today," Ophelia Nuñez smiles, although maybe it's a brief swoon, and at least has the decency to blush a little. "I was just speaking to your... to Jim. He uses the same flowery language."

"With the utmost respect, ma'am," he places a hand on his heart with a minuscule bow, "Jim uses flowery words to woo a crowd, whereas I prefer to set thin's straight if at all possible."

Ophelia smiles again, although appears partly bemused by him. "Of course, my apologies."

"Oh I should say there are no apologies required, ma'am, this is after all, yer party." Esmerion straightens and subtly moves so that she unconsciously continues her initial path. "It should be I who apologises, seein' as I came 'ere without yer invitation. Jim felt as though 'e would be more comfortable if I were present, an' now I can see that I really wasn't needed."

"Well, you're welcome to stay," Ophelia smiles, making Esmerion smirk. "I'm sure Claire will be happy that another friend of her's is here."

Esmerion flinches slightly, silently damning himself as he forms the words. "The lass might not, I'm afraid. We 'ad a bit of a fallin' out the other day, an' I was goin' to wait until a less public moment to apologise."

To his misfortune, this not only intrigues Ophelia, but brings about the attention of her husband Javier. In his hand, he carries a plate of soy hot dogs, an effort to please his wife's constant insistence that is completely ignored in favour of the apparent young man and his issues with Claire.

"More boys?" Javier asks with a small breath of outrage, and Esmerion restrains the urge to throttle him. "I hope you're not here to ruin this like your brother did with our house."

"With all due respect, sir," he drawls carefully. "Jim is not my brother an' I was merely stating the fact that I am not quite on speakin' terms with yer daughter as of the present moment. On another note, I should mention that although yer lass is lovely, I 'ave absolutely no interest in her beyond the relations of friendship."

With a tad amount of constantly fluctuating good fortune, Javier seems to be relieved by his words rather than insulted, and Esmerion breathes once more. His skills of political maneuvering have declined far too much for this day and age for him to do any amount of good for himself.

"Well, I believe I should leave ye two to yer duties." He smiles carefully, slowing to a halt in the middle of their pedicured back lawn. With an exaggerated wince, he sits down on one of the benches, whistling softly to himself.

A clatter of claws makes him flinch and he gives Munnin a mild glare of scorn. The raven was refusing to leave him, even after being released into the wilds, and it was becoming much more bothersome than anticipated.

"Don't do that," Esmerion scolds, running his fingers down the bird's back. "Some peace would be nice."

His peace was never meant to last, it seems as his phone 'ping's in his pocket. He sighs with small whine, pulling out the device in compliance to its silent demands.

King Jim: situation in Claires rm help

"For Dreya's sake," he huffs, heaving himself back on to his feet. "All I ask for is one minute to myself. One minute where I'm not expected to act my age."

Munnin croaks with anticipation and Esmerion scoops him into his hand, passing him up to his shoulder. They ignore the scandalized looks that get sent their way, and the young raven gently nips his ear just above his gold earring.

"All right! What is the problem?!" He snaps when he gets upstairs, throwing the door open with a wave of his hand. And there he stands, frozen by the sight that greets him. "Oh, ye've got to be joking."

"What's he doing here?" Claire hisses at Jim, as though Esmerion isn't stood right in front of her.

He doesn't blame her, not really, not after the terror he put her through. But he doesn't appreciate being treated like a phantom of a breeze - something that isn't ever there.

"Jim felt comfortable with my presence, so here I am, as per 'is request," he tells her in a soft voice while shutting the door behind him. "Original Jim, that is. Not Yellow and Green, here."

For emphasis, he pokes the chest of the Newest addition to the growing Jim population. The Jim In Black (okay, it's green but Jim In Black has better ring to it) growls, smacking his hand away with a furious glare. Esmerion just raises a brow.

"Let me take a wild guess an' say this is because of yer new stone."

"It seems that way, yeah." Jim sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as his gaze flits over to the scowling duplicate.

"An' Sir-Happy-Go-Lucky is yer romantic side - don't ask, I 'ave practice - while Mister Grump-A-Lot is the Trollhunter part of ye," Esmerion surmises with a wary glance at the two of them. "I could ask Stricklander for help, if ye want. I've never seen anythin' like this before."

"You would call Strickler, of all people?!" Tall, Dark and not Handsome snarls at him, moving as though trying to prowl. But Esmerion is the top predator here, not this little delusion. "Have you forgotten what he did?"

"'Course not," Esmerion scoffs, flashing his teeth with a bored smile. "But 'e's changed, not unlike myself. 'E's better than 'e was."

"Oh, so suddenly you're a saint?"

He pauses, his eyes sliding over to rest on the angry expression Trollhunter Jim wears. The atmosphere of the room becomes suffocating, thick enough to cut with a knife, but he does not say a word. Instead, he lets the silence speak for itself, allows it to boil in the duplicates' heart, and make them realise just what he might be.

"As far as I'm aware, I 'ave never claimed such a fact," his words are practically silent, and the dangerous air around him constricts. "I 'ave killed many, Trollhunter, an' I 'ave done thin's I am not proud of. An' if there's one thin' I am, it is humble. Because I know that I am cruel, heartless, arrogant, an' a danger tae those around me. Ah don't dare think otherwise. So don't go about, tellin' yerself that I'm so god-like, 'cos I'm not, an' never 'ave been."

"Dude, are you okay?"

Esmerion rolls a shoulder in a form of shrug. "Probably."

Jim looks unnerved. Claire looks uncomfortable. He can't really blame either of them.

"I'll call Stricklander, then." He pulls the phone from his pocket and scrolls through the contacts, not focusing all too much on the other occupants of the room.

"Hello, Walter speaking."

And with that, all hell breaks loose.

His attention averted, Esmerion doesn't realise what's happening until his crutch is swept out from under him, and he's landing painfully on the floor. The door swings open behind him, a route only available while he's fallen.

Esmerion gasps, a groan of pain easing its way from his lungs. His head is spinning from his fall, and the room is dancing on one leg, little stars appearing in his vision.

"Hello? Who is this?"

With a grunt, and far too much effort, he grabs the discarded phone and brings it to his ear. "I'll call ye back."

He hangs up and pushes himself to his knees, wincing as he does so. Munnin has vanished, and there is no doubt that he's gone off to pester Hunter Jim.

By the time he's got back to his feet with his crutch - with Jim No. 1 helping - Claire has returned with yet another Jim, and tosses the terrified-looking clone into the room with them. Esmerion stares at the trembling clone with a blank expression, struggling to contain his frustration.

"Okay, so now there's more," he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "'Ow splendid."

"Please don't hurt me! Everything's so scary out there! Strangers. Pollution in the air. Bears in the woods." Scaredy Jim ducks behind Esmerion, hiding from Claire.

"He made more? Of course, he did," Jim groans into a hand, rubbing his face. "Why did I have to be so clever?"

"You call for backup," Claire orders him, her hand shaking as she jabs a finger at him. It saddens Esmerion to see her be so afraid of him. "And keep an eye on Scaredy Jim while I look for the others."

"No! I'm afraid to be all by myself!"

Esmerion rolls his eyes and limps toward the door, swatting Scaredy-Cat as the clone tries to grabs his jacket for reassurance. Staring at those shining eyes makes the male rethink his options, and after a long sigh, he shrugs off his leather jacket and hands it to the clone. The terrified clone actually smiles at him and then pulls the jacket over his own shoulders, appearing much more comfortable about the situation now that he has it.

Smiling a bit at how at ease the clone is now, Esmerion continues out of the room and starts on his way down the stairs. Claire is already passing him with another clone, this one in a red shirt. He gets the feeling that this one is being particularly annoying, or arrogant, judging by the girl's expression — the same one Draal bears when Esmerion is being especially arrogant.

"Ye're doin' well, I see." He raises a brow at her speed in nabbing the Cocky Cockerel.

"So it appears," she huffs, ignoring him otherwise.

Esmerion shakes his head, but bustles down to the backyard. Once or twice, he catches glimpses of other Jims, but they disappear into the background before he can catch a second look. He isn't overly fussed about these new clones, his efforts are focused on finding Hunter Jim.

Claire might not have seen, but Esmerion had not missed the absence of the Amulet in Original Jim's pocket. From that, it isn't too difficult to figure out that Jim Christmas Tree is the one currently in possession of the magical artefact. Something that truly will not end well if he decides to act with it.

Ophelia stands up to start speaking, but while Esmerion ignores her, he cannot look away, as behind her, Hunter Jim is standing. He looks ready to interrupt, and so he does, quite rudely, and Esmerion pulls a face at the behaviour.

"You have no idea what's out there. You'll need real leadership. A real hero. Someone who won't waste time with distractions. Like chit-chat over cheeseburgers. You need someone who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty."

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Esmerion starts, hastening his step.

"Maybe I should run for City Council—"

"Do beg my pardon, ma'am," Esmerion cuts in sharply, grabbing the clone by the ear. "I'm afraid my brother's not thinkin'. 'E's got some big aspirations, but 'e doesn't know what 'e's talkin' about."

Near silently, he hisses in the clone's ear, "Ye better shut up, if ye know what's good for ye."

Outwardly, Esmerion smiles awkwardly, steering the mirror reflection of Jim back to the house. Things might take a bad turn, and he doesn't want this to turn into a more public affair than it already is. Playing the exasperated elder brother role expected of him, he brushes off the gaze of the few teachers present, sighing with false expression.

The second they're both in the house, however, Hunter knocks the crutch out from under him and yanks his hand from his ear. But when Esmerion remains standing, the clone's eyes widen with regret, Hunter Jim knowing exactly how big of a mistake that move was.

Esmerion raises a stiff brow at him, and he immediately takes off, darting out the front door. The male growls, following in pursuit with a heavy limp in his step from the brace on his foot. By some miracle, his stitches don't pop, and he takes the opportunity to climb up the side of the house.

"You couldn't leave be me, could you?" Hunter Jim cries, a wisp of blue light appearing just beyond Esmerion's sight. "You should have allowed me to be the Trollhunter! We both know what's coming! You need me!"

"I very much doubt that," Esmerion snarls, pulling himself to his feet on the roof. "The Amulet was designed for protection, yes, but ye need tae feel to access it's full potential!"

"If those blood goblins got out, maybe Gunmar did too!" The Hunter is grasping at straws now, but he swings Daylight at the male, missing by a good portion as Esmerion neatly dodges out of the way. "Maybe it was your fault!"

"Aye, perhaps it was," Esmerion breathes with an air of crushing disappointment in himself. But his eyes flash with fire, and with the next swing of Daylight, he stops it with an open palm against the blade. "But perhaps Mordred got out. Ye don't know 'im. An' ye don't fear 'im as ye should. Perhaps there's a lesson in that."

"There'll come a time when he realises that he can't balance both worlds, and he'll have to choose. You'll see that I was right, then." Hunter scowls, clearly troubled by this change of events, before bringing back the blade and swinging it again in a more complex manner.

Esmerion stares him dead in the eyes as he catches the weight of the sword in his hands and pulls it from his grasp. "Not if I 'ave my way. I'll ensure that 'e never 'as to make that choice." Tossing the ancient blade into the woods, he tackles the Trollhunter, wrestling with him to the flat of the roof. He grips the Amulet in his hand and twists it, stripping the duplicate of the ability to call upon Daylight.

"What... what are you?"

He smiles a little breathlessly, turning the Amulet over as he slowly examines it. Glancing down at Hunter Jim, he manages a grim expression at the horror in the clone's eyes. "Someone powerful."

A warm surge of magic leaves his fingertips, flowing into the Amulet. The hands on it begin to spin, sucking at air until he points it at the Trollhunter. The clone yells at him, scratching at the roof tiles in desperation as he's slowly sucked back into the Amulet.

Blue light blinds him briefly, and once his vision returns to see no more Hunter Jim, Esmerion sighs with relief, sitting back on the roof. But it cannot last, to his dismay, and so he cautiously eases himself down the side of the house to Claire's window. He winces as he pulls himself through the opening and sits carefully on the sill, closing his eyes for a short moment.

"Ez is back!"

Esmerion flinches at the loud noise, and cracks open his eyelids to find Scaredy Jim looking at him with a pleased expression. Regular Jim is staring at him with grave concern, to which he waves it off, sitting upright with a pained breath.

"Ye lot ready tae return?"

For clarity, Draal used a talisman to take on Esmerion's appearance and pretend to be him.

Anyway, that wraps up this chapter. I hope you enjoyed!