Magilou sees the frying pan go flying past her. Her brain makes an awful pun for a moment haha, flying pan before she snaps back into focus. She hears Frisk’s words, saying her heart is her strongest quality. But it isn’t. Her heart is fragile, and easily shattered.
How many times do you intend to destroy and rebuild your own heart, Magilou?
She’d done it over a hundred times before. What was one more? What was another hundred times? She had something…someone she wanted to protect. Multiple, in fact. She just had to concentrate on using her attacks wisely, and ignore his illusions.
“Magilou, why are you fighting? Lord Melchior and Lord Artorius only want what’s best.”
Magilou grits her teeth, focusing her efforts on Melchior rather than Eleanor who wasn’t real. She had to interrupt his spell casting, or else they’d be in a lot more trouble than they already were.
“Frisk, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving a kid alone on the battlefield.”
She yells the encouragement to her companion in the hopes of drowning out Eleanor’s voice.
“But you’re leaving me alone right now, Magilou. You wouldn’t even fight when we first met. How can you promise to protect them if you let me fight when you wouldn’t until you had Bienfu?”
Nice try, old man. She knows Laphicet isn’t real. And even without Bienfu, it isn’t like she hasn’t fought without him before. She risks using a Dryad on Melchior, throwing the cube of water perhaps more aggressively than is necessary. But of course it’s necessary, she knows what she’s up against.
Magilou thinks it’s enough to break Melchior’s concentration again, but of course that’s her mistake, as she realizes he’d finished casting before she’d gotten the chance to reach him. But where was he aiming–it wasn’t at her–it was at–NO.
She stupidly throws herself in the way of the arte, collapsing on the ground. But she can’t be beaten that easily. She’s been through this before…she just has to get up. She has to keep fighting. She can’t lose her determination yet.
Getting up is a struggle, but she makes it. She’s torn between Melchior and the illusions. They’re only going to hinder her concentration, but if she’s not focused on him he’ll have time to cast.
“Hey kiddo! Mind doing me a favor and getting rid of some of those really annoying illusions? Eleanor can definitely go first, I don’t need an Abbey lecture.”
This was bad. They were out numbered and even with their trusty frying pan, dubbed the dying pan, they were pretty much useless in a fight. This was what happened when you played the goodie good. If they played the game like a human, if they played like him.
But they hadn’t, they’d played like the person they wanted to be, so they were restricted to the abilities they had when they played by the rules. The child closed their eyes briefly, but only briefly.
“Miss Magilou! Stop. Don’t take blows for me. You can die, I can’t!”
Not right now, at least. Three chances, that what they had for today. Three chances to pull back the clock. They reach out and help drag her to her feet. It’s a bit pathetic, given their size and lack of strength (for now), but their expression was filled with their concern.
“Fine, fine, I’ll take care of them. Please, focus on not getting hurt, okay?!”
They bolted off toward- Laphciet? Might have been a good idea to explain who Elanor was, or what a Abbey lecture was. Given that Frisk here her lecturing Magilou, they were taking a gamble on this. Their frying pan was gone for now, but they could still fight without it. One kick, and-
They tripped over their own feet, only a few feet back. It was jarring. This... Wasn’t where they SAVEd. Someone had reloaded a save, a save overwriting their own. It was a could feeling to have that ripped out from under them.
* You really ARE an idiot, aren’t you?
That voice sent chills down their spine. They’d repressed it, until now, but in thinking like him, they’d called for him. The grinning flower, their best friend and worst enemy.
* You’re really slipping. I told you before, my little monarch, if you let your guard down for even a second, I’d rip your soul out and become the god of this world.
* But, I still need it, that soul of yours. If you’re nice and hand it over without a fight, I won’t take that woman’s worn out one too.
* Hee hee hee! Or I can take both by force!
The flower smiled, and that was all it took to trigger an encounter. Locked into place by the force of the flower’s magic, the child knew there would be no fleeing for them.
“Magilou, you really need to leave now! This guy is really, really bad news.”
*Awww, how can you say that about your Best Friend.
Frisk hissed under their breath. “Asriel, you’re not-”
* Not Asriel, he’s dead, remember. You’re the one who killed him, you’re the reason he’s dead. I meant me, your Best Friend! Flowey! Flowey the Flower!
For some reason, Frisk’s words seemed to upset the child, and the smiling flowers face nearly split open in a cruel grin. The ground split open as thorny vines split it open. Probably the only good thing about this was he had no concern for the surrounding, and lashed out at anyone, human or illusion in his way.
Flowey is not a team player. Good thing Frisk was. An idea dawned on them then, but their attention was immediately drawn to Magilou. They really hoped she’d listen this time, because this situation was hopeless.
“Here’s a very good chance to flee!” Or play them against each other, but that wasn’t something that they could share out loud. Hopefully she caught their train of thought.
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