duskroine

[duskroine]

“ hey, how badly are you hurt? can you move? you think you can walk? “

settling dust prompts !

AS DIZZY AS HE IS, ophelia puts forth most of his effort into focusing on edelgard.  if not her face then her voice, if neither then at least the faintest touch of her hand on his knee.  the sky haloing above edelgard’s head blurs his vision more but it’s the touch that brings him back to himself.   “   i...   ”   he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, eyes tightly closed when a jolt of pain stops him from moving his leg.   “   j-just give dusk a moment.  ...yeah, i need only a moment of—   ow—   preservation for the stars to distribute spiked celestial restoration.   ”

in his defense, the flames of adrenaline were only now seeping from his skin in pools of crimson.  the class had poured outside the monastery in groups of mastery, with those mounted fitting in pairs rather than the infantry teams.  it had been ophelia who sparked competition between the divisions once the professor sought them responsible enough to handle the lesson.  of course, karma struck the crimson hero immediately; the battle had been the catalyst of an unbecoming emotional wreck.  her wyvern realized this and, upon instinct, matched her burst of exhilaration with an intimidating readiness.

how had she been thrown from her mount’s back?  even some of the universe’s incidents were without an answer to them.  they had been in the air, a dangerous witch with the command of a thousand armies, but now, it’s obvious something went off-script.

edelgard brings them back to the present once again—   her hand moves from their pulse slowly, as though relieved but not trusting.   “   ...what happened?  must i be carried off?   ”   ophelia asks in a whisper, to which edelgard frowns.  the answer does not come, since the ground shakes beneath a heavy force.  one that tightens ophelia’s jaw and makes edelgard brace their lower leg.  the darkness of their vision rises and clears all in seconds.  when they come to themselves again, a shadow blankets both them and edelgard.

ariadne’s dark wyvern head and edelgard’s blatant concern are the last things ophelia sees before he passes out silently.

[duskroine]

🎄+ 💋 "Behold, Starlit Warrior, the Missiletoe of Missiletainn! Hold up thine sacred text, and allow it to tap the edge of my crackling sword. Only then shall a father's love be transferred to his chosen kin."

mistletoe, mistletoe !

IT SEEMS AS THOUGH A SIMILAR IDEA had stretched across the plane of existence between odin and ophelia’s minds.  he regards his father’s appearance beneath the mistletoe with wariness first—   her earlier journey through dream - walking   (   wandering around while daydreaming   )   had taken her far from her assigned reason classes.  it was never—   would never be temporary flaw of theirs.  an imagination as great as a thousand writers would never fit in one body.

had odin found him in hopes of dragging him back to the confinements of a lesson he knew by heart and raging mage hand?!  thankfully not, for odin has other wishes for his chosen second.  these ‘ wishes ’ come in the form of firm hands clutching confidently on the hilt of a blade and a spark of intensity in the ylissean’s voice.

ophelia’s curiosity bursts at the seams, releasing a dangerous fire of excitement within gray eyes.   “   truly?!  dad, i—   oh!  i mean.  ahem.  father, the fates had foreseen this trial of honor between us long ago.  tis why i wield a missiletoe of my missiletainn as well!   ”   and by her truth, she uncovers missiletainn from its home at her hip, waving it before odin to allow the glittering mistletoe attached to sway.  while the same plant, there is a visible difference to the one she wields rather than odin’s; if the sheer amount of glitter that glows around it.  of course, a presence of magic can be easily detected.

ophelia’s joyful grin is topped off by the signature gesture of a hand over his face,   “   together, let us tap our legacies by their crackling, glittering, mystifying edges!   ”

when missiletainn does gently hit the flat of odin’s sword, missiletainn number one, it is alongside a loud exclamation:   “   BAAAAAM!  oh, would a sound like CHINGGG fit instead?   ”   either way, he laughs, both at himself and the silly image he and odin must make together; standing in the hallway, beneath a mistletoe, with their weapons pressed together.  the scene though, cannot end as simple as this.  in small steps, ophelia moves to rise to the tips of her feet, kissing odin on the cheek with an audible ‘ mwah ’.   “   now that the ritual of heritage has settled into the atmosphere around our weapons, let us conquer the day with such honorable power!   ”

[duskroine]

❰❰ SAVE ❱❱ sender saves receiver’s life

self indulgent prompts !

THOUGH A SOLDIER, ophelia is, unfortunately, as much human as the other soldiers within the army.  their body is lightweight, a ragdoll against the persistent, snapping jaws of the wyvern before them.  what ophelia once mistaken as a recruited mount of the wyvern knights became its hard, cold truth; they had stepped foot on foreign soil.  the territory of a wyvern with nothing to lose and not a single loyalty bound to its name.  so, as one would in their position, determined and brave, ophelia tried upon it a taming ritual they once saw caeldori present to her pegasus.  although, surely, it had been a grooming practice and not a ritual.

that much is assumed when the wyvern responds with a roar and reaches its head near to close its teeth around ophelia.  and now, as ophelia readies their fingers for the weight of a spell, they cannot be sure on how to chase off a wyvern.  stories consisted of swords and sorcery driving a deep force into wyvern scale, defeating it rather than saving it the breath.  still, ophelia had been at fault for wandering away from the troops!  not the wyvern, that of whom, ophelia is certain, was protecting its children near the angled trees beside the clearing.

“   lady—   or lord—   wyvern,   ”   ophelia shouts, turning a sharp left once their spell had formed within their hands,   “   must we engage in such primal ways of conversation?!  the mistake is on the behalf of the—   WOWwww, you are fast!   ”

realization threatens to strike them down quicker than the wyvern at their back.  any further running and the beast would be brought upon the army’s camp.  ideally, that should have been reason to quicken their pace—  the hope that a fellow soul would give her aid in the issue—   but dusk has already pronounced the incantation to its fullest.  sternly cut heel turns and ophelia beckons a storm between them and the wyvern.  to her surprise, it’s enough to halt the attack.  for good, she thinks as the wyvern begins its defeated stalk away.

“   aha... thank the stars that i am quite capable of—   oh,   ”   a puff of air is released atop their head, swaying the wheaten strands of hair not kept beneath their circlet.  ophelia looks up to see the bent head of another dragon, though its familiarity is too obvious to ignore.  dusk turns with glitter in their gaze, absolute awe in their expression.   “   lady corrin!  were you the force summoned by my shrieks?!  uh, i-i mean, my strength!  my squeals of power!   ”

a nudge of corrin’s chin against ophelia’s head gives them all the response they need.  with a sigh of defeat, they bow their head and apologize, though quickly laughing off their displeasure when corrin nudges them in the direction of the camp.   “   dusk is retreating!  you mustn’t be so impatient, i was gooooing...   ”

[duskroine]

ACTIVITY CHECK / HOUSEKEEPING.

STATUS.  passed  /  hiatus  /  failed SKILL POINTS GAINED.  monthly skill point +1  (  december  ), arena skill point +1 ALLOCATION.  d rank axe -> c  (  december + arena  ) TOTAL SKILL POINTS.  32

[ ... ]

CLASS ACCESS.  dragon rider  (  c rank axe, d rank flying  ), brigand  (  c rank axe  ) CLASS MASTERY.  dark flier  (  advanced class / b+ rank reason, c rank flying  )  (  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, drabble  ) ABILITIES OBTAINED.  killer axe  (  c rank axe  ), transmute  (  dark flier mastery  ), magic bind  (  arena event prize, a rank reason  )

[ ... ]

COMPLETED THREADS.

ONE.  let’s get ready to rumble - & team 6, bronze round  (  1,074 words  ) TWO.  nnngg the general clap of my ass - & team 6, iron round  (  1,467 words  ) THREE.  it’s just a phase mom - & team 6, steel round  (  1,104 words  ) FOUR.  all kids go to heaven - & team 6, silver round  (  1,119 words  ) FIVE.  tell a friend to tell a friend: she’s back!! - & team 6, gold round  (  1,341 words  )

DROPPED THREADS.

ONE.  prove us wrong - & lysithea  (  3,301 words  ) TWO.  be who you are for your pride - & askr

CURRENT THREADS.

ONE.  decided by destiny - & owain  (  reason skill point  )  ( my turn  ) TWO.  opposites attract sometimes - & alfonse THREE.  love you in this life and the next - & patty  (  faith / reason skill point  ) FOUR.  letter do be kinda sus tho - & constance  (  my turn  ) FIVE.  redemption, a promise - & camilla  (  my turn  ) SIX.  among mockingbirds - & ganglöt  (  sword skill point  )

[duskroine]

             With no explanations capably dealt by knowledge or history, it was a truth that only the gods could offer. The evidence of his posterity come in so many shapes and sizes, men and women, swordsmen and mages, some who owned fractions of his likeness and others who seemed to hold so little. To walk the world at the same time as his many descendants was a conundrum the Hero-King long since accepted, though no doubt this would mark the first occasion where he’s been deemed so glittering an idol by one. A butting of heads beneath the mistletoe, recognition to strike one, and his reflection nigh filled the newly met Ophelia’s eyes with stars!

              “Um, I thank you for your generous words, but... I must attest that the greatness you speak of is better directed toward my allies. My place in history would not be made if not for the brave souls who shared my fight.” The strange and ticklish feeling risen from this encounter extends even further at the kiss pecked against his cheek, pointing to the nearly forgotten mistletoe as the cause. For one who had not yet even come to full terms with the idea of children, here he’s shot ahead by leaps and bounds to the far surpassed finish line--standing face-to-face with a distant descendant after a seeming multitude of skipped stairs, rungs, and steps—generations—extending far beyond his lifetime. At least there was an equally untold quantity of time to get to know the still youthful Ophelia.

               “...But you mentioned that you were called Ophelia...Dusk? How strange, that.” The important revelation is remembered of them with a chuckle, followed by the king’s shaking head as he quickly relays that such words were without intention to offend. “—We don’t share a surname! I imagine the passage of time to be the maker of such a difference, but nevertheless, it makes me wonder what we do share. The mistletoe that has gathered us here must be a blessing in disguise. Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Ophelia?”

HE IS A LIVING, BREATHING LEGEND.  a walking myth with a steady heart in his chest. he is an ancestor—   the revelation is fluid in ophelia’s head, easily escaping them in a flurry of exhilaration.  though they are not surprised at the sight of marth standing before them   (   they’ve been in the presence of both friend and foe that existed far in a different world   ), a feeling akin to shock throws their mental balance off.  a somewhat coherent string of rants spill from their lips before they have the time to shovel them back.  how could they stop themselves when the very man of heroism and legend was standing before them?  they could stomach the direct ties to their royal heritage better now that such a line of ascension aligned them as the hero-king’s descendant.

(   —   is what you’d want to believe.  there’s little excitement in the tremble of your hands, the smallest memory that he stood on a pedestal even higher than that of the chosen one’s.  if you could not compare yourself brightly to your father, then how could you respect yourself under his gaze?   )

the hero-king speaks and ophelia quickly pauses their rant to heed his words—   they can showcase their passion on marth’s final stand at a later date.  hopefully some time in the near future.   “   o-of course!  if not for the inspiration of your allies, then would you truly be the king the legends know you as.  oh— WAIT, that’s not to say that your endeavors rest fully on the backs of your allies!  unless, uh...   ”   green sways in their peripheral and with it comes an opportunity of indulgence.  so, they rise to the tips of their feet to press a kiss to marth’s cheek.  after they gesture to the plant, both ancestor and descendent freeze in place.

marth is the first to move.  ophelia startles at tone of his voice, one that is quickly dismissed of its oddness.  despite the situation before them, chosen second finds themselves calming down.  no longer does their face flush as red as earlier.  there is still tension but marth addresses them with such fondness that ophelia can’t help but relax.   “   alright then!  the tale of ophelia dusk, second of the chosen heroes, is no short myth.  unless you are limited on time.

“   if i must be honest... i don’t know my true surname.  dusk is one i chose for myself upon my ascension as a chosen one.  my father is odin— uhm, owain dark, the prince of ylisse.   ”   it is then that she almost asks for confirmation on the line of royalty.  the question of her being born far away from the kingdom she supposedly has a place in.  ...nah, that would be sentimental, too deep of a topic for a first meeting.  though when the idea is dropped, another takes its place.  ophelia unbuttons silver and pulls her sleeve up just slightly, raising her forearm enough for marth to see her brand.   “   i interrupted myself but, is this of some familiarance to you?  my father proclaimed to me once, upon my entrance into war, that it symbolized my lineage.  i never asked after that until i came here.   ”

then, again, a thought throws her off of topic.  gray eyes widen with an exclamation:   “   wait, how long have you attended garreg mach?  have i been walking the same grounds as my idol for months, unaware?!   ”

@arcstral , ask post !!

[duskroine]

He tried on the vial of cologne from the sun shaped bottle, impressed with the luxurious scent it contained. He knocked on Ophelia’s door and when face to face, he grinned.

“Soooo, has fate tied us together once more? I’m wondering if you’re perhaps my secret gifter- good taste, good taste if you are.”

THIS TIME, THE SHADOW BENEATH THE DOOR certainly belonged to luke!  the first knock at her door was a classmate seeking the tome she had borrowed in their first class.  but no, this knock was heavy and fitted for a hand like luke’s.   (   lest she just identify as delusional!   )   so, eager and swift, ophelia bounds up to her door and pulls it open with an excitement that brightens her expression.  and truth be told, for the man before her is none other than luke!

his grin is shared with one of her own,   “   i applaud your skills of detection!  yes.  it is i; your winter envoy!   ”   gloved hands rise to cover the bottom of her face, where there is an attempt to muffle her gigging.   “   it took you quite the time, did it not?  the beast of impatience had almost won its war within me!   ”

gray eyes stare down at the dagger sheathed to luke’s hip.  her pride swells at the sight!   so much that she almost forgets to flash him her signature ‘ can you tell i’m odin dark’s child ’ gesture!   “   do tell me how well each of my gifts strengthen your skill of capturing the gazes of potential suitors.   ”

[duskroine]

“ Ah, so you are still looking for your Winter Envoy, is that so… ? I am permitted to lend you a hint then if you wish for it.

“ Your Winter Envoy states that they are among birds often. It might do you well to search for a winged friend then in your attempts to find them. Best of luck, Ophelia, and may your search be fruitful! ”

IS THAT SO...?  an outlier amongst the flock...   ”   ophelia nods, his mind wandering off to the cast of classmates and friends he was familiar with.  though despite the thought, there was the lingering reminder that he didn’t have to be acquainted to the winter envoy in order for them to act upon their gifts.  fingers tap in rhythm against the music box’s lid—   his mind is too far in speculation to realize kent’s departure.  it’s this train of wonder that pulls ophelia in a stride, only stopping once he’s before the quarters of a classmate.  not one he knew as well as he hoped to.

(   @allegreta, leanne   )

ophelia is already composed when the door is pulled open.   "   AHA!!  dusk has uncovered her winter envoy!   "   in their hands rests the small music box, carried with such gentleness that it seems odd to their character.  they grin,   “   so, am i right?  are you the mysterious envoy that bestowed upon me the greatest of presents?   ”

and if so, well, she had many kind words to give in return.  she has two pages of kind words, actually!

[duskroine]

🎄+ 💋 “Heyyyyyyyyyy,” Luke snapped his fingers and pointed at her with his signature finger ballistae. “You got the Mistletainn, I got the mistletoe. You outpower me on this one… so you get to initiate, or risk curses and all that stuff.”

mistletoe, mistletoe — accepting!

FATE HAD LED ITS CHOSEN SECOND beneath a holiday plant that had not been laid by her hands.  on the contrary, truly, since ophelia didn’t know of the mistletoe above her until a young man had moved before her in a graceful step—   though somewhat clumsy, if his height and size has any effect on the lean in his movements.  the doorway to the classroom is wide enough for space to exist between them, but there is little space to be seen when the mistletoe’s presence is finally registered by gray eyes.

it is an unknown-ish tradition.  not one she tended to celebrate in nohr—   castle krakenburg was a bit foreign to such pleasures—   but here, she remembered celebrating the meaning of these kisses amongst friends and strangers.

besides, can ophelia truly ignore a young man who knows how to sway a maiden like herself with such words?   (   which would, in fact, imply that you were swayed at his usage of your holy tome alongside the plant above the doorway.  it is an attempt, though.  you can applaud that much.   )

a wink is thrown playfully towards luke, gloved hands responding to the whatever-gesture-that-was with a wave.   “   what wise eyes you have, sir luke!  noticing dusk’s holy weapon and its effectiveness outside of a battlefield.   ”   the idea of a curse beckoning itself after a failed kiss is given only a batted gaze before ophelia moves upon the order.  rising to the tips of her feet, she presses her hands against his chest and kisses him briefly on the lips.   “   there you go!  chosen one hopes to encounter your presence again, now that the curse of the mistletoe has been bested.   ”

it is then that mischief twinkles in dusk’s eyes.  she smiles and skips away, her mind an unstoppable force against the plotted thoughts she allows free.  there would be a next time, for certain.

[duskroine]

When Ophelia returns to her quarters, she may find that her window is a little more open than she left it. The wind lightly tousles her curtains, but nothing has been taken.

Quite the contrary, in fact; on her nightstand there stands a beautiful three-armed golden candlestick. The design is rather simple, really, the arms curling up and embossed with minute detailing, but it still looks quite lovely. Included are six candles, whose scents range from ocean breeze to forest air, all lovely nature sorts of things.

One in particular looks a little strange, less professional quality than the rest, and next to it is a letter. There are a few spelling and grammatical errors in it, but the handwriting is actually quite neat, if not loopy, resembling cursive but not quite matching it. It wishes Ophelia a very happy holiday, and includes some drawings of forest creatures. It notes that the gifter tried to make a candle themself, but they're worried it didn't come out as well as they'd hoped.

The final gift is a small music box. Another note lays beside it, stating that the gifter composed a little theme that reminded them of Ophelia. The song is triumphant, but with sweet undertones, and lulls down into a calm rest before raising upwards again. It's complex for a simple music box, and there's almost certainly magic involved, but what kind is hard to decipher.

WITH A SPIRIT OF CHILDISH EXCITEMENT, ophelia rushes to her quarters, hurrying steps that split the time of destination in acute periods.  within moments, she’s stumbling before the entrance to her dorm, swift but clumsy hands opening the door in a wide gesture.  the door closes behind her, solid against her back as gray eyes take in her quarters in a study.  the window is still open, though she’s certain she had left the crack of air a narrow space rather than so high above the windowsill.  giddiness brightens her face and she moves towards the window, only stopping at the flicker of gold in the corner of her vision.

ophelia is by her bedside in the next instance.  a soft awe falls from her lips at the sight of the three-armed candlestick, ever so quiet despite herself.  carefully, she pulls off her gloves to handle the gift with physical touch, as close as she would possibly get to her winter envoy before seeking out to find them.  the candlestick is of simple design, little intricacy within the smelted gold figure—   it is still beautiful.  almost perfect if not for the missing candles; those of which are found on the nightstand when she allows her gaze to finally lower from the gift in hand.  six candles, each she raises before her face to lightly gather a whiff of.  they are lovely, crafted wonderfully, most likely from an individual that knows of such crafts.

one is different, ophelia comes to realize after inspecting each of them.  the one in her hand is the odd stick of them all, somewhat curled at the end, though it is obvious that the curve is a mistake in the design.  in dusk’s other hand, is the letter that was once beneath the strange candlestick.  any worries are immediately resigned in wonder at the contents of the letter.  and dearest to ophelia’s heart, she almost dares to sit on her mattress only to have balance for the urge of kicking her feet in joy!

“   either way,   ”   ophelia says, to the winter envoy, through herself in the quiet of her room,   “   this is special.  not strange.  personally crafted... i’m surprised!   ”   such thought taken into the gifts.  her heart swells at the sentiments!

then, just as she sets the letter and candlestick down, her knuckles brush against a smooth exterior and a bump follows.  music spills into the air, a theme of pride and celebration, the sweet reception of triumph.  ophelia’s eyes snap up to the box, small, but open, and the evident root of the music.  the song continues to play as dusk busies herself with the note beside it, gasping at the idea of the theme being hers.  inspired by her, for her.  she’s in shock, completely floored at the revelations of a music box being created with the thought of her behind it.  her hand raises above the box, able to pull back the essence of a spell—   or many—   but the exact identity of the incantation is foreign to her.

when the theme has ended, ophelia allows herself to bask in the silence.  only for a moment, grateful for the gifts in front of her, before she’s turned on her heel with a sway of her cape.  her quarters are abandoned, but not without the single, strange candlestick in hand.  her winter envoy would show themselves forward, one way or another!

[duskroine]

tell a friend to tell a friend: SHE’S BACK!! — gold round, team 6

fangedjustice​:

Andrei pushes back against their foe, managing a fairly decent hit while avoiding the any harm. Julia sends out another wave of healing, just as Ophelia had at the start, and then launches fire at the titan; the massive foot it sends down in retaliation shakes the arena. Nyna made an attempt to follow through after them, now healed back up, her axe hitting home but not twice. Focusing in on her, the lead machine stomps down dangerously close to her. 

Even from where he is, Lloyd can tell that her handle on her weapon isn’t as sure as it was just before, and Nyna’s second attack falls short of the metal beast. It is in this moment of vulnerability that the machine retaliates, its foot grinding down with killing intent–

Lloyd wasn’t going to let that happen. Urging on his charger, Lloyd intercepted the incoming attack. His horse reared up with a shrill noise, allowing him to try and knock the titan off course…He wasn’t entirely successful. He didn’t fail? But all he really managed to accomplish was clashing with the machine’s foot and rendering both of their attacks null. 

Lloyd steps in with Foul Play Alloy Arsenal: Revengeance counters with Heavy Stomp Roll d20: 20. Crit! 0 damage (Lloyd 10/10HP) Lloyd counters with Guardian’s Axe Roll d20: 2 - 2 = 0. Miss! (AA:R 22/50HP)

Embarrassing and shameful, but he’d kept Nyna from any further harm, so Lloyd would try not to dwell on his offensive ineffectiveness for now. “Simply repaying you for the times you’ve saved me in this nightmare already. Please, Lady Nyna, do not lose hope. We are here, together, let us keep each other safe.”

@nagargent​ or @duskroine i think?

THE DREAM IS IN CONSTANT MOVEMENT, both in the aspect of scenery and fate, but the presence of these four companions is a feeling that remains throughout each shifting memory.  ophelia has come to know these people, each in their own wild differences—   no one was as gentle as julia, or as resilient as lloyd.  who could keep his focus on both ally and situation as well as andrei?  and nyna—   ophelia watches her advance upon the nearest scout with a precision as sharp as her axe—   speaking with a voice alike that a queen; someone who knew how to lead and feel.  they are not family, and they may never get the chance to intrude such a level of familiarity with the heroine, but ophelia would know them as well as they once knew the friends of their army.

there is already a sense of knowing between all five companions.  that in which each knows the weakness of the other, and the strength of the next.  ophelia nods to julia as she casts a spell of refreshment over lloyd,   “   julia speaks with truth on her tongue!  the sky is beneath our fingertips; you are our ladder, lloyd.   ”   somewhat off-place, the heroine winks merrily at the two and turns on their heel, aware of the alloy’s gaze as it readies itself under pressure and smoke.  nothing prepares the arena for lloyd’s strike, persistent upon an eager mount.

a screech of metal cuts through the air as the large giant moves, a static beat in its movement, one that paints a virtual dot upon the heroine’s chest.

alloy arsenal: revengeance! roll 2d20 = 14, 16! ‘gatling gun’ hits, ( 2 base damage - 1 defense x 2 hits ) 2 damage.   (   ophelia hp = 8 / 10   )

ophelia! roll 2d20 = 17, 14! ‘aureola’ critically hits, ( 6 base damage + 2 magic - 2 resistance x 2 hits ) 12 damage.   (   alloy arsenal: revengeance hp = 38 / 50   )

ophelia! takes 2 damage from aureola!   (   ophelia hp = 6 / 10   )

from its arsenal of weapons comes the shower of missiles, threatening even in the light of its bright dots.  two glow against ophelia’s dress, red and small but defiant when they attempt to move away.  then, they don’t.  heroine prepares the incantation when the missiles seek them out amongst the others.  legs bend in a kneel, ophelia raises their arms over their face, effectively lowering the amount of themselves that the projectiles can hit.  their kneel knocks the missiles against their shoulders, pulling apart the fur and feathers of their back collar.  a cloud of dust gathers but ophelia doesn’t need to see through it for their magic to hit—   aureola hums at their hip as they release the spell from outstretched hands, a shout leaving their lips:

“   BLAAAAZING COUNTER!! BAAAAAAAM!!   ”

metal creaks and screeches as light magic tears into the hull of the giant.  ophelia rises from the ground and raises the veil from their face, enough for their sight to appear as confident as they feel.  around them, their allies rebel against the smaller minions that once rushed towards them.  lloyd is at nyna’s defense, thankfully.  it would do none of their hearts any good if another one of them were to fall in battle.  the heroine’s gaze moves to julia at the sound of her worry,

julia! rolls d20 = 20! ‘fortify’ heals excellently, +6 health.   (   ophelia hp = 10 / 10   )

“   thank you, julia!  your aid is much a—   w-watch out!   ”   this gremory costume, in all its fur and theatrical wonder, does not hinder ophelia’s sprint when she rushes over to her friend’s side.  the metal giant moves away as quickly as it had lunged forward, though nyna is swifter in her chase after it.  in response to the strike, julia moves to the back of the team, where ophelia meets her with a warm embrace.   “   are you alright?  you’re stumbling, take a rest.  please.   ”

but to ask such a plea would require a promise.  ophelia leaves julia with a smile and turns to face the alloy, strictly moving themselves if only to separate friend from foe.  aureola breathes life into their chest and with it, ophelia forms a channel between them and the beast.   “   LIGHT OF YLISSE,   ”   gloved fingers twitch at the name but dusk continues,   “   AUREOLA!!   ”

ophelia! recovers +2 health with amaterasu and bond!

ophelia! rolls 2d20 = 17, 14! ‘aureola’ critically hits, ( 6 base damage + 2 magic x 2 hits ) 16 damage.   (   alloy arsenal: revengeance hp = 6 / 50   )

alloy arsenal: revengeance! rolls d20 = 1! ‘heavy stomp’ misses.

ophelia! takes 2 damage from aureola.   (   ophelia hp = 8 / 10   )

the sound of magic sparking within their grasp is an almost equivalent volume like the thunder they command as naturally as breathing.  a veil opens above the giant before light beams down in a flurry of heavenly rain.  the giant’s stumble and scorching metal deter it away from its clumsy counterattack; a stomp that lands far from where ophelia stands.  aureola is still warm at their side.  the giant is on its last legs.  what is a hero’s duty if not to cut down the hopes of a foe?

the heavens open its arms and sings for their decision.

galeforce activates!

ophelia! recovers +2 health with amaterasu and bond!

ophelia! rolls 2d20 = 16, 13! ‘aureola’ critically hits, ( 6 base damage + 2 magic ) 8 damage, and hits after, ( 2 base damage + 2 magic ) 4 damage.   (   alloy arsenal: revengeance hp = 0 / 50   )

alloy arsenal: revengeance has been defeated!

gloved hands rise and a veil opens above the giant once more.  harsh memories push them to spell out the incantation; the reminder that each of them had fallen beneath the dream’s voice once way or another.  it had tested them, taunted them, and now, it would all end.  ophelia would end it.  a cry of their father’s surname and home leaves their lips the moment that the heavens spills their fury down in a shower of light.  the giant crumbles beneath the weight of the magic; and with it falls the scouts at its side.  the gremory veil keeps the cloud of dust from hitting their face.

the dream does not shift.  ophelia turns to their companions, trembling but still standing, without a wound or scratch in sight.   “   have we done it?  has the evil been vanquished?   ”   were they free?  would they remember this?  would they all—

dusk awakens to the gaze of their bedroom’s ceiling; the brand of exalt glows on sepia skin like a fading memory.

team 6 has finished. the gold round has ended! ( have the besties gotten their word count in? )

[duskroine]

SEND    🎄+ 💋  FOR  MY  MUSE  TO  KISS  YOURS  UNDER  THE  MISTLETOE.   ADD  REVERSE  FOR  YOUR  MUSE  TO  KISS  MINE.

[duskroine]

tell a friend to tell a friend: SHE’S BACK!! — gold round, team 6

CHOSEN SECOND WATCHES THE MIMIC FALL as would a mortal to its unreliable god.  with disbelief etched into their very being.  they stare as though the mimic will rise once more from the ground, in a disfigured ascension of their features.  the arena ripples around them and they allow their eyes to close as the dream shifts.  tentatively awaiting whatever beasts are on the other side of the dream’s vision.

ophelia! heals +2 health with amaterasu and bond.   (   ophelia hp = 10 / 10   )

beneath their robes, burns caused by magic begin a quick process of healing.  sepia skin flushes with its normal tone and no longer does the after sparks of luce rise from their chest.  the weight of their former light soldiers leaves their shoulders, instead replaced by a physical pressure.  grey eyes open to the sight of a veil, dark and cross-stitched.  ophelia blinks slowly, raising a gloved hand to their face to test the veil’s fabric.  despite its darkness, they can still see through the thin material.  before them stands their companions—   all of them, thankfully.  relief leaves them as a small sigh at the sight of lloyd and julia back to their feet, no matter how exhausted they seem.

it is then, as ophelia walks forward with graceful steps, that they realize the depth of the magic within them.  the ability of warmth, not lightning.  gray eyes gaze down at their gloves, then back up to their companions.  healing is what they bear, the weight and responsibility of keeping those dearest to them alive rather than using their sacrifices as strength.  hands raise towards the team, a wide gesture that causes a glow to lighten their chest.

ophelia! rolls d20: 7! ‘fortify’ heals good, ( 2 base health + 2 white tomefaire ) +4 health.   (   andrei hp = 7 / 10 , julia hp = 9 / 10 , nyna hp = 10 / 10 , lloyd hp = 9 / 10   )

ophelia! heals +4 health with live to serve.   (   ophelia hp = 10 / 10   )

a channel of magic connects each companion to ophelia’s own well of health, filling all until the connection on their side falters.  it is all they can do, but despite the strange feeling, it is enough.   “   dusk will keep you all fighting,   ”   they declare with an odd gentleness,   “   no evil will drag us heroes down when we’re so close to the dream’s finale.   ”   but it is not a promise.  they cannot promise such a thing after seeing their companions and themselves fall victim to such darkness.  it is a hope, a wish, maybe.

the heroine looks upon the enemies, familiar already with the mechanics of its lunges and armor.   “   our weapons of eclipse and honor have struck such beings before with frightening strength.  what is it to deal the same damage once more!   ”   despite the trauma, they find their voice coming back to its dramatical pitch.  that is enough to quell their worries.

@ulircursed , @alunyna , @fangedjustice , and @nagargent !!

[duskroine]

all kids go to heaven — team 6 silver round

alunyna​:

She has only a second to catch Lloyd’s fall, eyes wide and heart wrenching in her chest, before something denies her sight at all.

Mimic uses Many Eyed Gaze. Roll: 16. Crit; Nyna is inflicted with Void and Freeze

It lasts hardly a moment longer, that familiar feeling of magic from Andrei’s staff lifting the fog from her eyes and throwing it back towards their foe. She will have time to call her gratitude towards him properly when all is said and done, but they must endure this first.

Nyna recovers 2 HP with Renewal. (Nyna 10/10 HP) Nyna attacks Mimic with Rienfleche. Roll: 14, 4. Hit, Miss. -4. (Mimic 6.5/40 HP) Rienfleche does 1 damage. (Nyna 9/10 HP)

Her bowstring draws taught, arrow nocked and eyes set intently on the abomination that they face still. A breath as her first shot flies, lodging into the thing’s side and earning a loud bellow from it before she raises a second.

It misses terribly, arrowhead buried somewhere in the arena’s soil. Nyna does her best not to sweat it, gritting her teeth through the bow’s pain, preoccupied with the ball of arcane light directed towards her now.

Mimic counters with Luce. Roll: 13. Hit! -1. (Nyna 8/10 HP)

It burns just as it had before, but not enough to truly phase her. Once more, Nyna directs her Kinshi away from the nightmare’s beast, dipping towards where Ophelia still stands with faith warm at her fingertips.

Nyna uses Recover on Ophelia. Roll: 17. +8 HP. (Ophelia 10/10 HP)

“Be strong,” she isn’t sure if Dusk can hear her – isn’t sure if she should even speak after Lloyd’s most recent fate, “we are almost through!”

JULIA IS COLD BENEATH OPHELIA’S HAND; a harsh reminder that this dream imitated reality as much as it could.  julia is dead.  she’s dead, and the only resolution that pulls ophelia from their dear friend’s body is the possibility of her return.  if the mimic decayed, the dream would shift.  it would revive them all only with the intent of creating another arena, another enemy.  but none of it would matter, because julia would be alive.  so, ophelia rises from the ground and furiously wipes away at their face, turning towards the backs of their battalion.  the soldiers of light part as the heroine walks forward, desperately catching back to everything they’ve missed.

a grey eye watches them as they look on.

mimic! rolls d20: 19! ‘many-eyed gaze’ freezes, isolates, and voids ophelia.

ice sticks to sepia skin the moment they find a space to observe the field from.  they bare their teeth and prepare an incantation—   which simmers lifelessly on their tongue when their vision is swallowed by darkness.  a mist weighs them down, heavier than the void clinging to their sight.  despite it all, they can still hear.  the sounds of battle continue on without them; though muted, muffled, as if they were witnessing the scene under a stream of water.  tremors shake the ground but ophelia cannot move, the ice is too thick, it’s—

first, the twitch of their fingers.  then, the ice shatters from around them.  ophelia stumbles forward before catching themselves.  through the mist, they cannot determine who is speaking, but the voice belongs to someone.  there’s someone advancing on the enemy.   (   an enemy that took their features to mimic.  it is disturbing; is it how your father felt when you molded yourself into a version of him?  is this not just karma as punishment?   )

nyna! rolls d20: 17! ‘recover’ heals perfectly, 8 health.   (   ophelia hp = 10 / 10   )

wings gather air close nearby, beating fluidly to keep something in the air—   nyna.  it must be.  kinshi she once sat upon, its wind pattern is as familiar as the warmth that encases ophelia, stitching together wounds with a needle of magic.  nyna speaks, surely, but ophelia cannot hear exactly what she says.  so, they do not nod.  instead, they narrow their blinded gaze, raise their hands, and pull the strings of the battalion’s focus forward.  luce hums at their hip and it, too, is summoned into the palms of the Chosen Second’s hands.

soldiers! rolls d20: 11! ‘silver lance’ hits, 2.5 damage.   (   mimic hp = 5 / 40   )

ophelia! rolls d20: 16! ‘luce’ critically hits, 4 damage.   (   mimic hp = 1 / 40   )

mimic! rolls d20: 11! ‘luce’ hits, 2 damage.   (   ophelia hp = 8 / 10   )

the pressure of magic condenses and bursts suddenly from their hands, rocketing forward to shower upon whatever it is they have the strength to reach.  soldiers of light move forward alongside the magic; yet again, ophelia cannot be sure if they hit anything.  only when the mist hovers off their skin and the darkness in their vision begins to thin does ophelia catch the ability to breathe properly.  the warmth of her soldiers returns to their side just as luce hums at their hip and a wave of magic strikes their chest.  they suck in a breath, cough, and stumble but—

mimic! rolls d20: 17! ‘many-eyed gaze’ freezes, isolates, and voids ophelia.

darkness takes them once more, just after they catch the gaze of an eye.  gray on gray, then black.  they grit their teeth.   when would this end?

@ulircursed

[duskroine]

all kids go to heaven — team 6 silver round

ulircursed​:

     …Cold. The first sensation that hits him upon his return to consciousness, flecks of ice, burst forth from the enemy’s terrifying gaze, dancing across chilled skin.

     The ice falls away, and there is a beat of wings with it, a lifting sensation.

     Blinding light, again, floods Andrei’s vision as he opens his eyes with a gasp, his name in a ragged whisper the first thing he registers. (Survive.) Then the light relinquishes his sight back to him, and Julia’s fallen form appears, on the ground below.

     An inferno, that she’d survived. The sensation of raising the Ruyi in his hand. Falling. Falling.

    …What…?

     “…W-what happened,” he whispers, quiet and vulnerable, as he looks over at the others, Lloyd airborne beside him and Nyna just feet away. Weapon strapped to his back momentarily forgotten, Andrei’s shaking hands clutch, still, at Edain’s instrument from before, its weight real, solid. Grounding.

     It wasn’t real. Before. This is a dream. But this… His gaze bores into his allies. The axe in Lloyd’s hand, the bow in Nyna’s. (I’d have wanted a bow, a petulant thought manages to break halfway through the haze in his mind.)

     Gaze shifts down to Ophelia’s unseeing gaze, to the shroud of fog that appears to separate them from the rest of the world.

     (He can be useful. He will be useful.)

     Andrei tugs on his pegasus’ reins, descending to a stop beside Ophelia. For the third (no, first. first.) time, Andrei raises the Ruyi, willing the dim shroud to lift and redirect.

andrei recovers 2hp from bond and amaterasu andrei hp: 7/10 andrei uses ruyi! ophelia is no longer isolated mimic is now isolated

     The feeling of using the Ruyi is much different from what he’d imagined (and that imagination had been brought into reality, he remembers numbly), more a light tugging sensation than anything more substantial, but it draws the mist from around his target, sending the affliction in the direction of their enemy. It doesn’t appear much affected, but Andrei’s eyes search out Ophelia’s, searching for any sign of recognition.

     “Can… can you hear me?” he asks, voice still weakened in the wake of his recent revival, “We keep falling to the enemy… but it cannot keep us down. We will overcome this.” This dream will end eventually, as it always does.

     They’d all be safe. The Ruyi in his hands seems to promise such a hope as well.

OPHELIA RISES TO THE UNSTEADY HEARTBEAT in their chest.  their robes—   whiter, lined in gold, longer, heavier— are coated in a thin layer of dirt, thus pushing instinct for the heroine to sniffle and cover their cough.  there’s a ringing in their ears that attempts to soften the sounds of the arena around them.  he catches his breath and forces it into a rhythm that relaxes his tension, clearing the noise of thrumming above all else.  gray eyes look upwards from the ground—

heroine’s gaze fixates upon the wide, glossy eyes of a beast.  panic seals them frozen, unable to utter a syllable as the mimic tilts its head, contorts its gaze, but does not move from where it looms above them.  julia’s voice echoes in its reaches, pulling ophelia from his trance and startling the beast too.  before they can move, it moves for them.

mimic has copied ophelia’s inventory and weapon, luce!

mist solidifies into ghastly reflections.  a gray eye, a gloved hand, deft fingers— too large, too long—; ophelia cannot bring themselves to look away.  it is my own self, they think.  they recognize.  all features spread apart across a canvas with too many angles, too many edges.  it doesn’t fit and does not seem like it should.

ophelia blinks and it is away, having retreated back from its position before them, but not far.  julia speaks and they struggle to form the right words.   “   no... i do not think so...   ”   a stutter of their breath.   “   surely, that... that can’t be me.   ”

mimic! roll d20 = 20! ‘many-eyed gaze’ isolates, voids, and freezes ophelia.

there’s a flash of light that spills from the mimic’s eyes—   its eyes, not ophelia’s.   julia shouts toward them, a wish of protection but ophelia cannot uproot themselves from their place when her friend moves away.

they’re cold... there’s footsteps.  someone is speaking.  ophelia cannot move   (   but they want to, they so badly want to; their body is no longer theirs for this moment   ).   over their hip, luce trembles and pulses as if magic is being drawn from its pages.  but that would be impossible... not when ophelia can’t feel their hands beckoning a spell or wish or—

ophelia recovers +2hp from bond and amaterasu.   (   ophelia hp = 7 / 10   )

andrei! uses ryuji. ophelia is no longer isolated, mimic is now isolated.

they inhale a breath that clears their vision of darkness.  the arena blooms before them now, everything a stark contrast of color.  andrei calls to them and, bleakly, they move their stare to his.   “   andrei... a-andrei?   ”   they whisper his name and nod, unsure of what it is they’re nodding to until andrei promises their ability to overcome the dream.  then, they snap back to themselves.  their eyes wild and searching, finally registering their surroundings in a full circle.   “   alright, i’ll... thank you.  dusk will do her best to push us forward.   ”

ophelia! rolls d2 = 1! ‘invoke’ summons perfectly, soldiers appear.

alert stance+ activates and grants ophelia +6 avoid through enemy phase!

soldiers! roll d20 = 5! ‘silver lance’ barely hits, 1.5 damage.   (   mimic hp =   35.5 / 40   )

the gold lining of their robes glimmer beneath the raise of their hand.  they wield a magic far different from that of what they know, but there is no denying that it is magic all the same.  so, ophelia pulls from their mind a channel and gasps at the brightening of their palms.  an image appears, then multiples, before a division of soldiers formed by light stand before the heroine.  they rush forward in a glide of footsteps, steel singing through air as it cuts into flesh.

it is only then that the light simmers enough for ophelia to see her.  to see julia.   “   j-julia,   ”   they move towards her, certain that their division of soldiers will distract the mimic enough to grant them a moment of grief.  they kneel, their robes brush against julia’s, and the remnants of luce spill from her wounds.  it is a truth they cannot deny.  it is a truth that killed their friend.

@alunyna​ & @fangedjustice​ !!

[duskroine]

it’s just a phase mom ─ team 6 steel round​​

ulircursed​:

     “Julia!” He shouts her name as the fire from her fingertips blazes through her being in turn. No… She’ll surely—! Just like… the memory of a previous battle, another ally felled by his own power wells within him. Again and again and again…

     Panic lasts until he sees her emerge from the inferno that consumes their second enemy, battered but with her life intact, still. The flood of relief seems compounded from all the previous deaths he’s ever witnessed, within the walls of each fiction and dream that he’s ever gotten caught in.

     In the end, no one has fallen, and all is well. Julia, Patricia, Julius, and even—

     …And Andrei would continue to be useful, even without the ability to fight as he usually does. He would…

     He looks up at Ophelia, proud atop the wyvern with the deadly-looking axe in hand. “You— you can finish this. Let me…” Take away every weakness, and leave only strength.

     Edain’s healing instrument is pointed a second time, this time towards Ophelia, and instead of a visible change, a glow of red light surrounds them, and as it is sucked within the object, he feels a thrum, like a slow heartbeat, growing louder and louder in his ears.

     He points it as before, towards the chrysalis the enemy is now encased within, but the light does not reappear. Instead, the heartbeat grows louder still, slower still, until his world is merely the sound of thump-thump— thump——

     His vision darkens suddenly—                                             And it feels… as though he’s  f   a    l     l      i       n       g… 

                                                  andrei has had been defeated

     The Ruyi, unused from the start of the battle until his end, clatters from Andrei’s cold, limp hand and into the pool of crimson seeping from his wounds, the piercing gale from the wings of the enemy’s second form having struck him down before he could react at all.

     There is no miracle, this time.

@duskroine​

FLAMES SWALLOW JULIA IN THE MEREST OF SECONDS.  ophelia shouts her name and struggles with themselves to keep their wyvern at bay, high in the air where the flames cannot strike scales.  it is more than a coward’s move, they must remind themselves of it.  their wyvern, sensing the turmoil within their trembling hands, makes a noise and descends the air in a fluid circle.  just enough for a better view.  just enough to see julia emerge from the flames alike the sight of a phoenix once born.  ophelia allows themselves to breathe, pushing stuttered air from their lips as they pull the wyvern to rise once more.

julia is alive.  everyone is alive.  the beast crumbles before them in a fit of ashes and burnt flesh.  ophelia is not surprised at the sudden burst of magic that consumes the remnants of the beast.  another takes its place—   the force of a gaze guides ophelia to look down.

“   andrei,   ”   they mumble, swift in their guidance of bringing their wyvern to a low height.  andrei speaks and ophelia realizes, if only for this first time, that his voice is wispy.  the very winds of common hoshido, so strange compared to the harsh song of nohr’s air.   “   i will.  dusk will finish this,   ”   is all they say as they ready themselves for andrei’s spell.

thump.  the pain that blinds their vision is not warming.  it is not comforting.  for a breath, ophelia stares, wide-eyed and gasping, down at andrei, with only the thoughts of betrayal to entertain their conscious.  had andrei stuck them?  had the dream conjured him as an enemy?  had he—

“   andrei—   A-ANDREI!   ”   ophelia’s voice betrays the burn of their throat, the sudden darkening of their robes.  the fabric is wet, heavy, red, but the heroine cannot take their eyes from andrei as he collapses in a free-fall that seems too fluid to be immediate.  it was as if he was never supposed to stand in the first place.  ophelia pulls the reins, attempts to beckon the wyvern down, but the hand pressed unconsciously to their stomach comes back wet with crimson.  they had been hit.  a frantic search for their teammates left only the sight of them, none of the warmth that they thought they had from past heals.

the wyvern curtly stops before the beast.

poison of god: messenger! rolls d20 ( -4 spd ) = 13! ‘judgment’ critically hits, 5 damage.   (   ophelia hp = 0 / 10   )

poison of god: messenger! rolls d8 = 8! ‘judgment’ voids, the effect lasts until the round ends.

a force of magic strikes ophelia before they can bring themselves to command the wyvern’s evasion.  their body jerks backwards only slightly, the saddle keen on its grip.  a weak hand grazes their stomach and comes back coated in crimson.  it is a shame that they cannot find their voice.  the fates, cruel beings in their rights, push ophelia to a limp lean, sluggish from the magic that cut through their skin.  they sway upon the wyvern but do not make a move to say anything.

ophelia has been defeated!

by the time that the wyvern lands clumsily in a staggering crash, ophelia is still upon its back.  their body fallen forward, golden hair splayed out and gray eyes blind.  it is their axe, unharmed and clean, that falls to the ground.

@ technically the round is over lmao

[duskroine]

AMONG MOCKINGBIRDS - & ganglöt

PROMPT ;   There’s been an anonymous bounty posted on the academy’s bulletin board detailing the search for The Ultimate Sword of Ultimate Heroism. Apparently, it’s been hidden somewhere in the monastery. The mysterious benefactor makes great emphasis on the fact that they deliberately hid it, as is willing to offer a generous reward for any who ‘complete their trial.’

THEY ARE HELD ON A PEDESTAL ABOVE MORTALS.  the fates pulled them from the tendrils of their daydream with a loud noise—   a clumsy student stumbling over air and dropping the few books they once held in their arms.  ophelia moved to help, though grey eyes glanced over the bold text of a scroll, oh so carefully trimmed and pinned.  heroine stepped closer and, with an undying curiosity, took down the parchment.  there had been a multitude of exclamations that left their lips at the bounty’s summary.  was this not a mission fit for their expertise?  who else was to take it if not for them and another benevolent soul?

a shame, truly, that the majority of ophelia’s close companions are stuck in the confinements of their classrooms.  pah!  as if they couldn’t finish this mission in the presence of a stranger.  they must remind themselves that the joint army of nohr and hoshido were all strangers to them in their early years of maidenhood.  so, after folding the bounty scroll neatly and leaving the bulletin board in haste steps, ophelia seeks out the perfect image of heroism amongst the population within the monastery.

which takes a while.  a lot longer than they’d like to admit.  and hope is all but thin until they are pulled once more from the depths of a daydream—   a vision of a grand sword, foretold in legends unknown to their gaze.  ophelia stops and watches as a lady moves quick but gracefully across the yard, out of the way from the fallen crate and the monks that kneel to gather its contents.  there is an air that surrounds the lady, gradient hair fluid as it sways behind her.  how did they arrive in front of the church?  that holds little significance when the epitome of graveness stood before them!  or, well, not anymore.

“   excuse me!   ”   ophelia is quick to follow the lady’s path, only slowing to a walk once they’ve caught up to her.   “   pardon the abruptness of my call.  i fear that there is little time to be wasted lest we watch the world decay at our feet.   ”

now that ophelia stands in front of the lady, they reckon that she passes the appearance requirements of a villain rather than a hero.  the thought is quickly pushed aside.  anyone could be a hero!  even those that seem to hold a frown as their natural expression.  ophelia clears their throat and, raising their hand dramatically to their face, presents the bounty paper with their free hand.

“   the ultimate sword of ULTIMATE heroism must be pulled from its trenches of evil before said evil ascends from the labyrinth and spews chaos across all of fódlan!  i, ophelia dusk, chosen one of the stars, can surely secure this bounty alone but... uh...   ”   their words escape them for only a moment.   “   oh!  but my mage hand trembles with such overflowing energy that i must be accompanied by someone of your strength to control myself.  yeah, that’s it!   ”

their hand lowers from their face and they smile eagerly at the lady,   “   so?  how of it?  shall we defeat this invisible but extremely dangerous force together?   ”

fate has chosen you ! come forth , @ganglotte !!  

[duskroine]

it’s just a phase mom ─ team 6 steel round​

ulircursed​:​

     Within a blink, the world fades, and with it the metallic monster that had been about to bear down upon them. In its place, a singular, humanoid foe atop a beast stares them down impassively. While its form is too large to be conceivably human, it looks much less sturdy than their previous enemy had been.

     (He knows better than to underestimate the beings they face, now.)

     The same allies surround him — even Lloyd, Andrei realizes with a rush of relief, looks fit for battle once more. It’s a mere dream, and there will be no death here.

     Julia steps into battle, wielding a sea of falling flames against their enemy, and all too soon, it lays broken and charred. Could it really be over…?

     No, of course not— it lets out an intense shriek, strong enough to cause physical pain even as he tries to bring his now much heavier shield between them, and then shifts, feathery wings sprouting from its still humanoid back, eyes still empty and piercing all at once. Before he could properly react, it lunges for him.

poison of god: chosen uses king’s fury! 3 damage andrei hp: 5.5/10 poison of god: messenger uses judgment (4, 4): 3 damage andrei hp: 2.5/10 andrei has been afflicted with void and freeze

     Blinding light pours forth from its being, inundating his being with terrifying energy. He can’t see, can’t move— at some point, Andrei is vaguely conscious of the fact that he’s let go of his shield, and it hurts, the light pouring through him with full force. Then with a flap of its terrible wings, the battlefield erupts with a gale of blistering wind.

poison of god: messenger uses almighty wings (20): 4 damage andrei hp: 0/10 prayer ring activates! andrei hp: 0.5/10

     Unable to move or defend himself, and so close to the epicenter of the blast, Andrei is blown backwards, slamming his head against the hard ground with full force. His consciousness darkens with one last stab of pain…      …then returns, a faint, warm glow pulsing through him, so different from the earlier onslaught of light. Spots dance around his vision still as he sits up, but he could at least see, and move. The object clutched in his right hand draws his attention for the first time, a rush of familiarity as he inspects it.

     Edain, standing over him as his vision clears from the haze they’d all been subject to. Choosing to protect him, help him, over everything else.

     The memory is a warm, soothing one, and it guides his actions as he points the tip of the object towards Nyna, who lay unmoving after the barrage of attacks.

andrei recovers 1hp with prayer ring andrei hp: 1.5/10 andrei uses ruyi! nyna is no longer stunned poison of god: messenger is now stunned

     A faint tingle runs through his arms from the energy stored within, and he quickly points it in the foe’s direction, the energy unleashing itself as a golden beam of light. Great wings lock in place, the enemy’s body going rigid at the same time he sees Nyna stir on the ground. Andrei gives a shaky sigh, exhaustion flooding him as he remains seated on the floor of the arena.

     He needs to keep going, he knows. In just a moment…

@duskroine​

JULIA’S WORDS, HUSHED AND CHOKING, are the last sounds that ophelia hears when the world shifts around them once more.  the gentle rub of her thumb against their hand, the wish in her voice, the metallic crash of something giving away.  their eyes open to the expanse of the arena from above.  between their thighs, rests the rough slope of a saddle that rises and falls every few beats.  no, ophelia realizes upon awakening, it was not only the saddle that rose and fell.  then, it is there, loud as thunder and unwavering as the fury of the storm, their mount screeches a roar in response to the large beast that stirs on the ground.  ophelia gasps, now aware of the axe heavy in their hand.

by the curious beckon of heel and hand, the wyvern beneath them begins its descent from the sky.  large wings slow the fall and, when the ground becomes clearer, gray eyes catch the sight of their companions.   their wyvern lands and ophelia flashes them all a smile, though her gaze narrows in on julia.   “   julia, dearest friend!  i accept your proposal to rejoice with delectable sweet treats once the enemy falls beneath our...   ”   their gaze flickers to the side and their voice falters into a stutter.  near julia, lloyd stands without much a weapon.  the importance of this strikes them; he stands.   “   lloyd?  i-i am glad to see that you’re alright!  i swear on the fates to keep an eye on you, this time.   ”

this time and the next because here, no fall would be permanent.  julia moves forward, proper and perfect atop her horse, and ophelia takes it as an order to get into position.  with a final wave to her companions, they readjust their grip on the axe and command their wyvern to rise from the ground.  a stalking start pushes them upwards and just in time for the perfect view of julia’s performance of falling meteors and embers.  ophelia is unable to hide their surprise when the beast crumbles beneath the meteors, regardless of its retaliation.  their guard is dropped but not forgotten—

poison of god: chosen! rolls d4 ( -1 ) = 0! ‘king’s fury’ misses.   (   ophelia hp = 7 / 10   )

poison of god: chosen defeated, changes into poison of god: messenger.

poison of god: messenger! rolls d20 = ( -4 spd ) = 8! ‘almighty wings’ misses.

they guide their wyvern to rise higher, effectively avoiding the beast’s screeching wave.  ophelia sticks to the sky, having to steel themselves from the instinct of rage at the sight of andrei taking most of the beast’s strikes.  it’s a damned strength they must wield.  the struggle simmers when andrei rises from the ground, weak but still alive; that is what mattered the most.  that he was still breathing and moving and living.  at the raise of the archer’s hand, ophelia swiftly turns their mount’s attention downwards, toward the god-chosen beast.  it is an opening, a chance that they have been given.

ophelia! rolls d20 = 2! 'vengeance’ misses.   (   poison of god: messenger = 10 / 10   )

poison of god: messenger is unable to counter.

when the wyvern guides itself into a tilt near the beast, ophelia startles themselves at the shift.  they imagine camilla, proud upon her own wyvern, and attempt a swing alike the many they’ve watched her perform.  their handle on the wyvern is clumsy, unfortunate to them that the blank gaze of the beast catches them before the axe’s blade is swung close.  it’s a poor miss; the beast is unharmed by the time that ophelia straightens themselves and their wyvern.  the enemy had not even moved!  they damn themselves with a frustrated mutter, readjusting their grip until their palm has reddened.

“   a mistake on my behalf,   ”   they shout down to the team, face alight with shame   “   it will not happen again!   ”

@alunyna , @fangedjustice