Mavuika sprints, as fast as her feet could take her, fear nipping at her heels on a race with her heart. Gods, what the hell was she doing fooling around with the Captain? She kept telling him not to forget that she’s the Pyro Archon, but now it seems like she’s the real fool who forgot.
Only a few feet to the Stadium’s entrance—wait, what’s that smell? Her nostrils flare—oh no. Is that smoke? Mavuika’s pace turns erratic as she tries taking a look behind her, the now-unmistakable scent of something burning flooding the air. Did the Abyss reach the Stadium already? Have they been burning down the fields? Crops? Homes? Oh, gods, this is all her fault. She should have been more alert, she should have been at the Clan helping rebuild, she should have—
From out of nowhere, a Yumkusaur leaps in the air and nearly skims her head, landing mere feet in front of her with a mighty swing. She skids to a stop, trying to find her bearings—then her back slams into the cold chest of the Captain, where she smells the same smoke she detected earlier.
Immediately she turns toward him, her chest heaving, her legs unstable, her eyes darting, scanning, panicking—has she hurt him? She couldn’t have, he was right behind her—
Then suddenly she is inches off the ground by her shoulders and is very literally shaken.
“Mavuika, breathe.”
Instead, she freezes, halting her panicked breath as her wide-eyed sunbursts lock on to icy-blues. The Captain is calm, a little winded from running, but there is no sign he is hurt. She hears him take a deep breath, and without meaning to, starts to mirror him, syncing her breath with his until she has mostly calmed down.
“Your feet were setting the grass on fire,” the Captain coos, the way he would to a child who had just finished crying. He sets her down, gently, and his hands linger to anchor her shoulders. “I’ve dealt with it. See for yourself.”
Mavuika looks behind her, and there it is—her footprints, long-strides in between them, smoking lightly but the fire put out.
Her tongue feels like paper, but she manages a small, “Oh,” before she swallows the dry fear from her mouth. She feels like a ragged doll after being played with too roughly—but the Captain is there still, steadying her. He smooths his hands over her arms, cool mist emitting from them as her hair dims from its frenzied glow.
“Better?” he murmurs, holding her steady, his thumbs drawing soft circles on her collarbones.
“Yeah, better,” she huffs, fighting the urge to melt into his touch.
“Good,” he nods, then lets go of her. She sways a little when he does, and his hands twitch as if to catch her, but she finds her footing anyway. She shakes out the remaining jitters from her body like a horse would neigh, which makes the Captain laugh lightly.
“Now then,” he says, “I’ll do a quick perimeter check to see if the Basin’s been breached too. That alright?”
“Yes, that would be a great help actually.” She puts her hands on her waist as she tries to catch the rest of her breath. It’s harder without his touch. “Thank you.”
“I’ll be back.” He juts his chin toward the awaiting messenger. “Go be an Archon.”
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