this love, forever

and in our memory, pen the end of our journey.

[philiaes]

( – PHILIAES ) : a closed & affiliated portrayal of cyrene, a letter of love to memory & hope as penned by alina ( she / her ) ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

I don't like farewells, so why don't we... leave this as a cliffhanger? Should you ever miss me, you can just polish this memory, and I'll silently visit your heart. It's a promise, okay? Don't you forget~

this blog will contain spoilers! posts will be marked per patch, but all posts will be tagged #HSR Spoilers as a courtesy!

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on portrayal:

SPOILERS: you're going to have to forgive me for how this has forced my hand in being canon breaking, but cyrene will exist as a memosprite of the trailblazer's in GH canon for the foreseeable future. she retains all memories of canon and the understanding of herself as the demiurge, however at this time i will not write her as remembering her "choice" or the subsequent events. this doesn't mean it didn't happen, just that the memetic entity of her as she exists in my portrayal will not know of it. this may change as the narrative progresses, or my vibe shifts, presently i'd just prefer not to get too existential before hoyo pantses me in a year. i do anticipate a future where this changes to account for the rebirth of amphoreus and the final cycle, and will cross that bridge when we get to it. it may mean nothing to anyone but me, but cyrene will assume the demiurge's appearance in all interactions unless stated otherwise.

on mun & rules:

alina, 22 and she/her, but you probably knew that. best contacted via discord, always available in the group's server. ♡ - light formatting ( small text, colored dialogue, icons sometimes. spaces in weird places. ) let me know if you'd prefer that i refrain for our interactions. i favor present tense. ♡ - no trigger warnings needed, please let me know if you prefer anything be avoided. ♡ - on shipping, i am open to anything with chemistry but prefer that it also exists out of character on a mun level. tangentially, i will not write any sexually explicit nsfw on this blog. ♡ - i err on the slower side as a writer, please never hesitate to poke me if you think i may have missed something!

[philiaes]

𑣲 — through patches of violet .

( Here we are at the fated land — Will you watch me end? ) / phainon & cyrene !!

[philiaes]

  ( Year 4829, Before the Eternal Recurrence ) 

Over the little dock's weathered edge, her feet swing in perfect time opposite one another. She is not quite tall enough that her feet might disturb the water that murmurs below, but she has left her sandals a few paces back regardless. As if to say just in case, and I'll be as tall as you any day now, you know! Because they are still on a page of the story where that feels true.

In her lap are a deck of cards, her most prized possessions. One might warn her of shuffling such delicate things so near to the water's edge, but Cyrene's not worried. Her fingers shuffle with such a loving precision, moving as though dancing to the melody she hums. Anyone might assume her attention occupied— her focus so intent upon the cards, the song, the water striders skipping about around her feet— that the rest of the world has faded from around her.

"You're late~"

She says it without looking back, without breaking her rhythm. A mere pause in her refrain, one that picks up a breath later in the space until she next speaks. Late— laughter weaves easily into this verse, a dozen crystal bells. They had not agreed upon a time, because that just isn't quite their way. Seeing one another again is an inevitability, it need not be scheduled any more particularly then this afternoon. Then tomorrow.

But he is late because she got here first, or perhaps he is late just because she says he is. It doesn't matter. Cards fall neatly into place, a perfectly aligned deck once more, and Cyrene turns her head such that she might peer over her shoulder at the sun and the boy beneath it. The same as he was yesterday, the same as he will be tomorrow.

"Well, don't just stand there! The cards can't see you from here, y'know."

@eachdawn !!

[philiaes]

𑣲 — there's only one thing worse than a whale .

( a white. ) / elation — #whaling with zhongli !!

[philiaes]

Sailors from Fontaine are coming to Nasha Town talking about a massive whale in the waters. Short of men brave enough to set sail for the waters, they wish to invite adventurers to join their crew for this perilous voyage! Should you be successful, not only will you be rewarded with gold and mora, but a wonderful tale to share, too! Will you answer their call?

Brine stings her nose, though it's stopped wrinkling quite so quickly at the scent. For only a few days sea-bound, Cyrene would call that being quick to adjust. She's not even queasy, which is nice, even if the idea of a seasick memosprite sounds a bit ridiculous. Her stomach is just the memory of one, after all.

The pitching of the ship seems to come in exact protest of that thought, sending her insides churning and her pen off the edge of her journal's wrinkled pages. With a click of her tongue at the resulting line of ink, spanning from the t she had just lined until the margin becomes shiplap, she adjusts to move down a line.

Her entries thus far have been something one might consider unremarkable. It had seemed sensible to her, a crew of men embarking on what is sure to be a thrilling expedition for some perceived glory in need of someone to write that glory. Because who can be satisfied with mere memories when they can only reach so far. And who better to put them to parchment than a daughter of memory itself? 

It's just that, well... She's running out of ways to make those memories sound quite so remarkable. Three days, two nights. No whale and hardly anything of note aside from the plummeting temperatures and the woes of sharing a cabin with a dozen odd seamen, most of which who snore loud enough that she fears they may frighten their target off in the night.

Delicate script finishes a new sentence— Were for it not for just how damp it gets below deck, my pages may be less wrinkled and my hand more steady, and yet even stone cannot account for an upset tide— and Cyrene breathes a quiet sigh, turning her gaze outward to the rolling waves that have consumed the world around her.

She notices his presence a beat later, eyes sliding to their corners to consider his profile. The man, whose name she knows because she is always listening for things exactly such as that, does not much look the part of a whaler or even a sailor. His is a heavy presence, and yet he carries himself with an air entirely the opposite. There is something about him that makes her believe he is as out of place on this voyage as she herself, but it would be rude to so brazenly assume.

"Are you cold?" A shoulder raises, shifting the heavy fur that has been draped over her, head inclining in a gesture meant to offer. "The wind on the water cuts awfully deep, but I think it's too beautiful out here not to at least try and endure it."

@lepideius !!

[philiaes]

𑣲 — oh hello little bnnuy and what are you doing on the bus even!

kujou sara & mem !!

[philiaes]

Of two things, Mem is sure.

The first of which being that she is somewhere that she has never been before and, most certainly, somewhere she doesn't think she has ever seen either. The bright, gilded architecture of Amphoreus completely opposite the heavens-high, wooden walls that she peers up at now. Sure, Mem can float, but that doesn't help her size or how her head spins with the rate at which it swivels to take in the unfamiliar setting. It isn't exactly a tactical approach.

And it won't be becoming one any time soon, what with how she squeaks at the sound of nearing footsteps. Heavy, authoritative, and definitely not helped by the stone they have to echo against. Panicked, Mem darts for cover.

The second thing of which she is sure would be what she blurts at the passerby: "I don't know how I got here, please help!"

Which sounds, even to her own ears, much more along the lines of "Mi mem mimi mem-mi mem mem, miiiiiii-!!!!"

Round, wide eyes peer helplessly past branches and petals the same shade as her fur. It had been a heat of the moment idea, ducking for cover. One that is made entirely worthless by the fact that she had immediately announced her presence, and one that she realizes with a confused "Mem?" that had been in error. One attempt to wriggle free of the tree's hold turns into a rather panicked thrashing, then a defeated slumping, ears falling flat and front paws hanging worthlessly down from the foliage.

All of this, and the reason for such a frightened reaction had turned out to be just any other woman. Dark haired, golden eyed, a stern expression on her face that Mem thinks might be because she is angry or perhaps just how she looks.

"I think I'm stuck..." 

@immovablewill !!

[philiaes]

𑣲 — plotting: elation!

hellooooooooooo it's baby's first non event month, and also a few days into the month now, so i'm tossing this out to hopefully catch a few threads

commission board:

( the chasm ) : interested in seeing the horrors together, perchance? cyrene is the type to not exactly see her own horrors, and walking through someone else's is pretty much her bread and butter. i think this could make for a really fun opportunity to retraumatize your muse and let cyrene simply be present and maybe even hold their hand. i am more than happy to be a vehicle for some self indulgent character exploration and development with her, since that's sort of what she's all about! requires teyvat.

etc:

( memory lane ) : want to relive your traumas outside of the chasm? haha, heyyyyy. my sentiments from above remain true for general interactions as well, being that cyrene can step through memories i am most happy to let her be a catalyst for other people's development. how we go about this can be determined individually based on who comes to the table, so do let me know!

( chrysos heirs ) : a catch all of sorts for all ye who amphoreus! i would be delighted to explore all of cyrene's canonical relationships where i think canon sort of fell flat. this also is somewhat dependent on who is interested, but i am more than happy to rp either reunions in the present or flesh out and establish moments from what would be the past as well!

( mem ) : yeah that's right. mimimi. i am more than happy to provide for you (yes, you) a pink bunny (?) puppy (?) mammal (✓) with varying degrees of english fluency. i imagine this'll mostly be something of a haha funny, but i do genuinely want to mem it up at least once in my career. she can sit on your muse's head. come on bro. it could be awesome.

( anything else ) : got an idea? want a pink thing and don't have a reason for it? come closer. i'm happy to bounce around plots. this beast needs friends!!

[philiaes]

@knighteternal wrote:

[ HUDDLE ] Attentiveness is something the siren prides themselves on- they must to be able to serve the Imperator to the degree she deserves. Taking note of the dropped temperatures and tense body language of the living beings comes naturally. The problem.. is what can they do to remedy the issue at hand? They do not have the power of flames, and water will only make the frost more unbearable. A troubling predicament. All they can do is scoot closer to the warmth seated next to them, uneasy as they worry it could make the situation worse. That awkwardness is portrayed in their arms bent as the limbs extend, creating a opening for comfort should it be desired. ❛ ..I may not be warm, but I could at least block some of the breeze if that would be suitable? I would hate for the little sea hare to 'come ill. ❜

For such a noble, elegant presence as Hysilens maintains, there is an uncertainty in their movements besides Cyrene that she simply cannot suppress a giggle for. It's endearing, as much as the silly little nickname.

"Most suitable," her little hum is undeniably pleased, sweet with the sort of eagerness one may expect of a rare excuse to be so close to another. Cyrene slips easily into the space made for her, wiggles as close as she can manage and molds into the siren's side as though she was made to fit there exactly.

It's silly-- unnecessary. Neither of them can freeze, neither of their bodies truly require such a thing, but there's nothing wrong with pretending where it suits her, playing at an idea of their own humanity. As it does now, a content sigh slipping past her lips.

"There, and now you can be warm too."

[philiaes]

@walkingwithcomets wrote:

[REPAIR] Righteous Vita pushed her minecart piled with Geomarrow with all her strength, much to the cheers of some gathered adults watching her. That’ll show them what a Phosphorus representative is capable of! To the end of the line it went, where the Geomarrow would be unloaded and brought to the Overworld. Red kept asking if there was any luck fixing the heaters, and they kept saying they were “working on it.” They had been working on it for days! Red wondered what they were doing with all the Geomarrow she was mining if it wasn’t for the heaters. She wiped sweat off her brow and walked back along the tracks, picking up a pickaxe that she hefted over her shoulder. She was just about to step into the mine when some guy hollered her name. “Red! You need a chaperone, remember?”  Red put a hand on her hip, hollering right back. “I keep telling you, I’m older than you are!” The guy shook their head. “None of us believe you!"  She rolled her eyes and walked back towards the gathering of people, laying her pickaxe against a stone. She weaved around the legs of adults before her eyes landed on a beautiful woman with long pink hair that reminded Red a little bit of Hare, albeit a different color. Maybe she’d be cool and strong like Hare too! “Excuse me,” Red stood on her tiptoes, doing her best to project her voice over ongoing conversations. “Would you head into the mines with me? You don’t have to do anything, I just need an adult to be allowed in.”

Between the ore and the labor, it's almost warm here. 

People hustle about, miners and supervisors and worried tourists alike, the space such chaos that Cyrene is impressed it is still so functional. She had come to lend a hand, to help ferry some supplies back up top, to fill in wherever she was needed, and she finds herself swept away in one task after the next as though her presence had been expected. 

It is as she is rising from a stack of crates, soot from its newest addition coating her palms, that she hears a the call for her attention. The voice is familiar, she had heard it only a moment ago bickering with one of the supervisors. Her head swivels, the stars in her eyes searching at head level for-- "Oh, hello there!" 

It's familiar, like seeing an old friend in the pages of a book. There's no doubt, were those little scarlet sweethearts here, they would be doing exactly the same. So she nods once, brushing her hands together and stepping to meet the girl.

"I hardly mind helping," and then, with a song-like little laugh and a wink, she adds, "and I believe you, don't worry."

[philiaes]

@originsrebirth wrote:

[ SNOWBALL . ] right to the back of Cyrene's head , a snowball hit her out of seemingly nowhere , a voice pairing with the impact . " hope I didn't catch you off guard ! " eyes landed on the woman she thought was all too familiar , moving close with that same warm smile she would always greet with them with , little did she know . . . " I didn't expect to see you here , Elysi -- " when she'd finally get to see the person before her , it wasn't a new outfit , was it ? she looked just like her . but . . . there was something different , even if they looked the same , they weren't , were they ? the echoes of a certain white haired man echoed through her head . . . there will never be a second Elysia , right , Kevin ? so what was she supposed to make of what she was seeing ? " uh . . . Sorry , I think . . . I mistook you for someone else , please , call me Mei , Raiden Mei . " extending a hand out to her , wearing that same smile she did before that look of confusion ran over her face .

Cyrene thinks, first, that she remembers the woman from the alley to have been much more somber.

She watches, fingers brushing snow from the fabric of her clothes, as recognition fades to confusion in the stranger's face. The curve of her smile bleeds apologetic-- it does not bother her, being mistaken for someone else, only that she hopes the person they are searching for is not far. That she is not a walking memory to them, a reminder of something beyond reach.

"It's nice to meet you, Raiden Mei." With a hum, she stoops to gather a handful of snow. "No need to say sorry~ I've been hearing that a lot, these days."

Snowball in one hand, Cyrene accepts the other in a gentle shake. It must be her imagination, the flicker of something like familiarity when their skin touches. The knowing of the body, of the authority that makes it, and such that the mind is not quite privy to.

"You can call me Cyrene, if you'd like."

The throw is lazy, hardly even one at all, a cloud of white to Mei's shoulder with a quiet splat. A giggle, then a cheeky little smile. "Now we're even. ♪"

[philiaes]

@eternalthrone wrote:

[HUDDLE]

Cerydra found herself huddled within a cloak, retaining warmth in the midst of the unyielding cold. It’s as nostalgic as is erring on the side of unbearable. The cold that finds its way to etch into the very crevice of the human, inside and out, brings Cerydra to thoughts of childhood spent in familiar biting frost.  Those memories were wholly unwelcome. She scans her surroundings, attempting to find something worthy of a distraction, and in doing so her eyes spot a most vibrant peach tree amidst a sea of unchanging frost. “Cyrene.” The Imperator calls out the name as if reaching an outstretched hand. She approaches, still wrapped in that very same elegant and proud cloak. “Cyrene…” she repeats the name again, a more desperate tone, as if clutching onto the warm fruit of the tree that now stood before her.  At first, Cerydra holds a focus to the hem of Cyrene’s dress. She studies the fabric, the design, and breaks down everything about that hem, and everything that makes it so uniquely Cyrene. It is familiar in every possibly dissimilar way, and for that it is welcoming. Then, Cerydra’s gaze turns, facing Cyrene's face proper. The face of one who portrayed herself as romanticism down to its very concept, of one who spoke in pretty words, yes, but with such genuine straightforwardness laced in each one.  The face of someone living, that Cerydra considered as a friend. “You look cold.” She deflected, “would you like to share my cloak? Better to overheat together than to allow one such as yourself to grow frostier by the second. Come.”

The figure of the Imperator may look a touch more imposing were she not shivering, wrapped so tightly within what should sit upon her shoulders like regalia such that it looks more like a blanket. Cyrene is already smiling when their eyes meet, when the call of her name comes to her like a request rather than a command.

"Yes, it's quite frigid."

Because yes, she is cold, but she knows that is not why Cerydra says it. The humor that curls in the corners of her smile is a private thing-- fond, not teasing, an admission of I know without an accusation so outright. "What a generous offer. It would be silly of me to say no~"

Gingerly, Cyrene reaches for the heavy layer's hem, helping to part it so that she might slip beneath. The cloak is quite large, enveloping her easily where she sidles in at the Imperator's shoulder. It's so nice, feeling the warmth of another soul so closely. One that she knows, one that she has gotten the privilege to know as more than just a character in a story for which she has penned hundreds of retellings. One might think the other woman cold, but there has never been a greater testimony otherwise.

Her fingers curl in fabric, draw it closer around them. It is just the slightest incline of her head, to rest her cheek on the flat of the other's collar, a pleased sigh warm on her lips.

"Much better, don't you agree?"

[philiaes]

@boltsunder wrote:

[ SNOWBALL ] She didn't expect to be pelted with snowballs by various children around the plaza-- after all, kids weren't always this bold-- but for those who have the guts to come after her... She can't ignore their challenge, can she? A bout of raucous laughter can be heard throughout the entire campsite, along with Feixiao running back and forth to nail the children with her rather impressive arsenal. There's a scream every so often, signifying a new 'kill' to be confirmed. One of the kids surprises her, though, and a snowball flies directly at her face. Feixiao's quicker than that, however, and she ducks out of the way... only for it to land on the shoulder of a woman she doesn't recognize, pink hair now spattered with bits of snow. The kid that threw it stiffens and points at the General. "She did it!" Before the audacious little punk scampers away. The foxian's jaw remains slack, mouth open, before she whirls on her heel with snowballs in each hand. "Uh. Sorry. I did not. For the record."

Cold bursts over her face, dousing her vision in white for just long enough to obscure the accuser. Cyrene reaches to brush snow from her eyes, blinking powder from her lashes. Her vision refocuses at last on pointed ears and piercing eyes, either hand still armed. She looks between them, then back to the woman's face.

And laughs.

"I believe you." She shakes her head, sending snow flying every which way. What still clings is, at least, has scattered throughout the pink of her hair. "Though that was quite the impressive throw, I'd have complimented you if you had."

Her gaze flits then across all of the still playing children, narrowing on one that she would deem the suspect. Not that she had seen the throw, of course, but the way they hide and blink nervously at the foxian from afar tells Cyrene all she needs to know. Their eyes meet and she winks before looking to the other once more, sidelong.

"Not too late to take credit, you know. ♪"

And then, the slightest of nods towards where the assailant has hidden before she turns on her heel, laughter warm on the wind.

[philiaes]

@hopetune wrote:

[ SONG ] Where there was sorrow, music was sure to be found, louder than the clamor of their anguish, louder than the cries that would ensue. And where there was music, there was Robin. Here she sat around the camp's bonfire, her metal spoon clinking swingily against the rim of a glass. All around her, children sang along to her humming and swayed along to the dings of her instrument. Crowded as it was, though, there was still room for one more. And the Halovian knew just who to ask. Robin noticed Cyrene from where she sat, and smiled a warm smile. There was something sweetly familiar about the young lady, enough so that she wanted to hear her sing: she had that face that told Robin that her voice was immaculate. Just once—just once would leave her satisfied. She set down her glass. The children continued to sing, entranced by their own beat. Robin called out, wings aflutter. "I'm just teaching them how to sing," she gestured to the group, "would you care to join us? I would love it if you did."

It is no surprise at all that the woman before her has gathered a crowd. The just-off-key chirping of the children around her is sweeter than any perfect composure, entirely for all of its wrong notes and distant pitches. It's the innocence of the error, the earnest effort behind it. The joy, the smiles that surround her and reflect upon her face as the sun's light does the moon. Turning her into something softer, something impossibly more beautiful.

And when their eyes meet, she wonders if that light is shone on her, too.

"Me? Well..."

Ten heads swivel to look at her and, expectant gazes or no, Cyrene would have said yes anyway. Still, they smile at her with such warmth despite the cold, and so she ducks her head in a nod and moves to fill a space that has been made for her.

"I'm no songstress," humbly, to the feathered woman, accompanied by the choir that surrounds them, "but I couldn't possibly turn down such an ask."

Eyes serenely shut and fingers interlaced in her lap, her voice joins the children's.

[philiaes]

@seenohearnovishnu wrote:

[ SNOWBALL ]

When snow piles throughout the city is thin and watery, if it lands on the ground at all with all the heat and fires going from active civilization, it isn't ample to play with should one try and form it into a ball. If Kosma were to try and form a ball of snow from anywhere within the city walls or in the outstretched parts where people march, hypothetically and he totally hasn't tried, it would not stick together. A clump of snow falls like sad, cold water through his cartilage-like fingers. Now, the cold within the outer portions of civilization was perfect for setting the snow into proper shapes. Outside of the bustling festivities, Kosma and many others can handle the snow without a care in their hands, freezing, as the fires and grand doors are far enough off it can't melt. The smell of broths and creamed stews is smothered by crisp winds as parents and onlookers watch over the war with snow not too far from them. While Kosma’s hands do not melt the snow nor do they freeze, he is a larger target and therefore he has felt the looming sense of failure as kids of all ages try to hit him once, twice, thrice as he leaves away. When he realizes he's not exactly going to win, ducking as an older kid who had long joined them throws a rather gargantuan snowball at his head. He jumped over a snowball from a younger kid, and while it wasn't much, it was still while dodging another aimed here or there. It's when he finally finds himself spotting a person in pink that he tries to call in acknowledgement, “Ely—" But he is silenced by a ball of snow the size of his forehead crashing onto his face, another older kid with better aim tagging him. Gracelessly he fell in the snow and the luster of hitting someone untouchable had faded, the kids moved one to each other and left him looking upwards into the sky. Cushioned by snow, he wipes his lashes and looks towards the side lines. Oh. Um. That's… “... Who are you?" He tries keeping his embarrassment from his voice, mostly to success, as he slowly sits up. “Sorry. You look like someone I know."

"Hm- Oh..!"

It catches her attention, the boy's call, and Cyrene pivots just in time to watch time slow as too-wet snow hits him square in the face with a rather comical splat. Eyes wide, she jogs to his side, taking in the spot he has left in the shape of himself in the white. Her lips press together to quiet the beginnings of a laugh, gaze round and soft with concern.

"Goodness, are you okay?" She bends at the knee, reaching gingerly towards him for a moment as though in a silent request for permission, before smoothing half-melted ice from where it's sticking at his forehead. The question of who she is, the name that had turned her head, his explanation... A knowing smile pulls at her lips.

"No need to apologize. I'm Cyrene." When she stands again, it is with a hand outstretched for him to take. "And I keep hearing that today, for some reason~♪"

Unlike the last to see someone else when they look for her, however, this one doesn't bear quite the same resemblance to one of her own companions. Even as she helps him to his feet, murmuring a "Oh, let me..." and reaching to brush more of the earlier carnage from his shoulder, the resemblance feels distant.

Still, she gives him a little hum of reassurance, amusement warm in her voice. "It's nice to meet you, familiar stranger. Try not to let those kids bully you too much, okay?"

[shieldsresolve]

Follow my Lead and You Will Be...

Operation: Fragmentum | Board B | Dr. Ratio & Gepard

[shieldsresolve]

Gepard could only nod to the Cyrene's request. Wincing as both pressure and medicines are applied to his gaping wound. He tries to keep his face neutral, but it proves futile as tears begin to coalesce behind his eyes, not allowing them to fall as he closes them.

"Yep. I can do that." Voice tight, speaking the words as if trying to convince both himself and everyone fussing over him. Feeling a little embarrassed as he told both Alhaitham and Cyrene, if they were in need of assistance to call them, but it seemed like fate had other plans this night. Letting out a little self-deprecating laugh at it all.

Opening one eye, he observes the other two, looking them over for any injuries they might have sustained. "Please, you guys have also sustained injuries from your own battles, there's no need for-" A wince as he tries to get up. "All I need is a couple of minutes to catch my breath, and I'll be right as rain."

He lifts an arm in a 'help me up' gesture, waiting for someone to take it.

[philiaes]

Cyrene hums as she sweeps beneath his arm, lithe fingers splayed across the torn uniform at his back to urge him upright as gently as can be managed. He reminds her of Phainon, dismissing himself in such a way.

"Who, us? I've hardly a scratch~" And then an apologetic glance to Alhaitham, who bears all that she has avoided by virtue of her range. "And neither of us are bleeding out, now are we?"

Her laughter is like silver chimes in spring, as though it alone could will away the bite of the cold that surrounds them. With Gepard on his feet, she situates herself neatly as a crutch. They must make quite the funny sight, three taller men and herself bearing the weight of one of them, but she makes no complaint on the matter. It's nice to be useful, after all, even if her first few steps are graceless.

"Focus on holding that to your wound, we'll go as slow as we can." And then, with a little hum. "Let's try not to leave a trail the whole way back."

[shieldsresolve]

Follow my Lead and You Will Be...

Operation: Fragmentum | Board B | Dr. Ratio & Gepard

[shieldsresolve]

Gepard hides the wince that wants to desperately show on his face at the other's question, but all they see is a sturdy look before giving his reply.

"We took a little bit of injury, but." He gives Dr. Veritas Ratio a concerned look. While Gepard has seen the Doctor in battle, watching him throw powerful blows that turned the tide of battle and has withstood blow after blow, but he doesn't know the other's history when it concerns these matters. The blonde has, for many years, fought these battles since he enlisted into the Silvermane Guards. Seen how terrifying and messed up it can be, as well as trained relentlessly for these kinds of conditions. Guilt begins to creep into his mind, not just for Veritas, but for everyone.

Remembering his speech to all the volunteer's... The faces of those people... He hopes with all his being that they make it back to them safe. Shaking the feelings away as pity is not something that they don't need, or want.

"Nothing we can't handle. Thank you for the concern." Nodding to the two newcomers, Alhaitham and Cyrene, if memory serves him right. "If you need any assistance yourselves, do not hesitate to call."

Then the both of them charged back into the fray. The reinforcements, thankfully, have been largely taken care of due to the assistance, but there are still quite a few that remain. The Shade also charges at them at full speed with their long axe pointed directly at them. Gepard tries to gain the monster's attention, and begins to move to its flank, and it works. The Shade quickly turns to him, much faster than what Gepard was expecting, and blade of the axe sinks deeply into his side.

Letting out a pained yell when the object was extracted, violently. Toppling onto the ground at the immense pain and how it took his breath completely away. His own blood splattering on the ground as he tries to put pressure on the wound.

[15 minutes] DR RATIO & GEPARD [Rolls: 1,4] attacks SHADE [Roll: 9]. -5 DAMAGE to US. 16/30HP [Time Left: 6 hrs 45 mins]

Gepard weakly lifts his head to watch the beast as it spins around to Ratio. Marching towards him, with a sick-line of confidence in its stride, glee read all over it as it believes it had taken down one of them. While Gepard tries to get up in a futile attempt, the Doctor's eyes are seen to dart around. The purple-haired man suddenly is moving, keeping his eyes on a thing in the background, until as a large shadow is seen, encompassing the Shade in its approach, the beast not realizing until it was too late as a pillar crushes it.

[15 minutes] DR RATIO & GEPARD [Rolls: 9,8] attacks SHADE [Roll: 1]. -9 DAMAGE. 1/10HP.  [Time Left: 6 hrs 30 mins] 

Gepard watches as the pillar falls, and Ratio pulls him away from the carnage. The body of the monster still stuck underneath the piece, stretching one of its arms out, trying to futilely reach them. Growls and screeches escaping it in its fury.

As Gepard watches the disgusting sight, Ratio begins to apply quick medical care to his gaping wound. The Guard Captain, while in excruciating pain, keeps himself alert, ready to administer a shield if needed.

DR RATIO & GEPARD take 30 minutes to HEAL +1HP. 17/30HP. [Time Left: 6 hrs]

[philiaes]

The two men have hardly gone far enough even to be swallowed by the plains' snow when there's a cry of pain that turns Cyrene's spine stiff. She skirts a glance to Alhaitham, her arm raised to stop him before they might traverse any further. 

"They seemed a bit worse off than they acted, don't you think?"

It's dark and frigid and their numbers are thin. She recalls the young captain's most impressive resolve well before she had seen him in the field, and the other in his company seems no less stoic. Cyrene has never been one to underestimate the abilities of her companions, nor one to coddle them, but there is something to this that she cannot swallow. They had said to call, but the feeling that they will be called first simply does not shake.

"We should help them," she decides, before her partner can disagree, "it's only right."

And then she is jogging through their still fresh footsteps, towards where the sounds of combat are beginning to decrescendo into simply those of pain. In starlight she at last makes out both of the others, crimson stark and impossible to look away from in what is otherwise endless, uninterrupted white. 

"I thought you had told us to call!" Her voice is light, or tries to be, a smile that hopes to seem reassuring offered between both faces as she sinks to her knees in the snow by a head of sandy blond. They'd not traveled with much more than a first aid kit, it would seem, and even at a glance she can tell that there is no patching an injury quite so large while they are so far from camp. For Alhaitham, she waves him nearer.

"We should get him back," Cyrene's expression turns more serious towards the man currently attending the other's wound, "there's no sense in dying out here."

It's the sort of scene she has seen played out by heroes that she has never lived to be, one she has written in ink tenfold but not touched so plainly with her own hands. There is a strange deja vu, following motions that are not hers and yet are so familiar, tearing fabric from one of her dozen layers to offer in hopes of staunching the bleeding long enough to return.

To the wounded, she smiles again. "Try not to fall asleep, okay?"

[philiaes]

𑣲 — the smartest person you know just lost 10 resources

operation: fragmentum 𖹭 board b

[silentintuition]

"Nobody yet." He said with a shake of his head. "It's better to worry about ourselves for now," Alhaitham readjusted his scarf. "This place is crawling with monsters—let's grab what we can, then leave."

As though scripted, the pair soon came face to face with another one of the clicking monsters.

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 6, 1] attack SHADE [Roll: 6]. SHADE takes -0HP, 10/10HP. Time left: 4 hrs 45 min

Alhaitham lunged at it, green light flashing. He was quick, but not quick enough—the creature raised its frosted axe, bracing it against his sword.

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 9, 9] attack SHADE [Roll: 8]. SHADE takes -1HP, 9/10HP. Time left: 4 hrs 30 min

Alhaitham manages to nick the monster on his next swing. It falters, sightly, opening itself to the second of Alhaitham's attacks.

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 10, 8] attack SHADE [Roll: 4]. SHADE takes -6HP, 3/10HP. Time left: 4 hrs 15 min

Cyrene sees the same opening Alhaitham does—and in that moment, they strike at the monster in tandem. But instead of stumbling, this time, it seems to focus.

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 7, 7] attack SHADE [Roll: 8]. CYRENE & ALHAITHAM take -1HP, 29/30HP.

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 6, 1] attack SHADE [Roll: 10]. CYRENE & ALHAITHAM take -4HP, 25/30HP. Time left: 3 hrs 45 min

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 5, 5] attack SHADE [Roll: 8]. CYRENE & ALHAITHAM take -3HP, 22/30HP. Time left: 3 hrs 30 min

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 6, 4] attack SHADE [Roll: 9]. CYRENE & ALHAITHAM take -3HP, 19/30HP.

It lashes out at the closest person—Alhaitham. By the time he registers the attack, it has already landed a hit. It refuses to surrender its hard-won upper hand, continuously pummeling down at the two.

"Go!" Alhaitham yells back at Cyrene. "It's unwise to try to defeat it in this state."

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM rest and heal +2HP, 21/30HP. Time left: 2 hrs

[philiaes]

Go, he says, but that's truly not so easy an option. Were they to retreat, they would only serve to be followed. They'd lead their foes right back to camp, and then they'd be in for twice the trouble. It does not please her to, but Cyrene shakes her head.

"We must endure this, we can't let these beasts any closer to the camp!"

Endless white becomes an illusion of a hundred flowers, the sky draped in the canopy of memory. Her fingers reach for shattered fragments of stars from it as though they are no bigger than the palm of her hand, and from them emerge a dozen crystal arrows. They arc like comets, falling gracefully one by one into the wretched thing before them, erupting in stardust until it staggers into the frost.

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 10, 10] attack SHADE [Roll: 4]. SHADE takes -6HP, 0/10HP. SHADE is DEFEATED. 

Her shoulders sag with relief for the briefest of moments, eyes flitting to her companion. He fights much closer than she, bears the brunt of the assualt, and she is reassured in that he still stands. The curve of her lips begins in a reassuring smile, only to fall open in sudden surprise at the flicker of something behind him.

"Look out!"

Her flowers have not yet faded and her stars not yet dimmed, such that it takes only a pull on the silk string of her bow to send a dozen more in glittering streaks towards the lingering monster. When this one falls, it sends a cloud of white in its wake, and at last her garden of memories fizzles back to permafrost. 

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 9, 3] attack FROSTSPAWN [Roll: 1]. FROSTSPAWN  takes -8HP, 0/10HP. FROSTSPAWN is DEFEATED.

The first cracks of color are beginning in the sky, however, without the memory of night to shroud it, and Cyrene shakes her head softly at the sight. 

"We can't push any further tonight. Let's breathe while the monsters seem to have forgotten about us."

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM rest and heal +1HP, 21/30HP.

[philiaes]

𑣲 — the smartest person you know just lost 10 resources

operation: fragmentum 𖹭 board b

[silentintuition]

Alhaitham shrugged, thick scarf covering up to his nose. "Resources are resources. Might as well keep looking while we're here."

Under any other circumstances, he would've turned on his heel and walked briskly back to camp. However, supplies were scarce—even if there were monsters crawling around, everybody needed to at least try to gather what they could.

Alhaitham looked away from the rock Cyrene held—was that... clicking?

Common sense dictated that he prepare himself for a hostile encounter. He was in an unknown environment after all, and the cold was never friendly to him. And as the odd creature rounded the corner, Alhaitham already had a blade aimed directly at it.

[ CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 9, 5] attack SHADE [Roll: 7]. SHADE takes -2HP, 8/10HP. Time left: 5 hrs 30 min ]

Alhaitham withdrew, sword materializing back in his hand. With a quick glance at Cyrene—just enough to make sure she was still in once piece—he launched himself back at the monster.

[ CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 7, 4] attack SHADE [Roll: 3]. SHADE takes -4HP, 4/10HP. Time left: 5 hrs 15 min ]

Already weakened, the creature stumbled. Alhaitham watched it twist and slashed down in what he hoped was the finishing blow.

CYRENE & ALHAITHAM [Rolls: 10, 7] attack SHADE [Roll: 4]. SHADE takes -6HP, 0/10HP. SHADE is DEFEATED. Enemy Drops: 8 [Roll: 8] Time left: 5 hrs

"Well, there are our resources." Alhaitham turned away from the writhing creature and to Cyrene's much more pleasant face. "Let's keep looking."

[ CYRENE & ALHAITHAM: 30/30 HP ]

@philiaes

[philiaes]

The wretched thing is gone in all but a blink, Cyrene's own hands hardly having moved an inch in that time. The curve of her bow turns to nothing in her palms such that she might bring them together in a quiet round of applause.

"Well done!" 

She skips to the poor, collapsed thing, humming to herself as she nudges bits of fragmentum around for what can be salvaged off of it. It's rather impressive, how much there proves to be worth taking. It occurs to her that this creature may have once been a person, could have once been living, and her expression turns somber as she peels a metal helmet from crystalline features.

"We should have brought something to carry all of this in." She slings a tattered cape over her shoulders like a shawl, then bends to fish back through ice and snow. The little village it had been milling about is hardly even one at all anymore, but she side steps through an open doorway and lets her gaze sweep across what remains of a living room. With a pleased hum, she spots what would appear to be a considerable supply of firewood, cut and ready to burn for a family who wouldn't have survived if they had stayed to do so.

Salvage attempt. Roll: 20 = Success. [Roll: 15] 15 Resources Obtained! 

"Ah! We'll have to come back out with more guards and see if we can get some of this back to the city..." She pokes her head back out through the door, peers past the other into the snow. "There are more monsters that way. Has anyone called? It's awfully quiet."

[philiaes]

𑣲 — the smartest person you know just lost 10 resources

operation: fragmentum 𖹭 board b

[philiaes]

In freezing cold and endless white, Cyrene bites down on a shiver. The base camp is not so far behind them now, and yet it feels an eternity away beneath all of the snow. Her fingers knead into the fabric of her sleeves, as if willing warmth that does not exist within her fingertips into her skin beneath.

Do memetic entities get cold, even? Wouldn't that be funny, if the chill over her skin is merely the memory of it and not the honest, relentless press of frost all around them.

"It's hard to imagine that there is much to find, beneath all of this..." 

The man at her side is a stranger, one with the same set jaw and disinterested gaze as someone not so unfamiliar. He has yet proven himself quite so bitter, and such she intends to remain in his good graces, assuming himself and Reason half as similar in disposition as they are in presentation. 

Her shoe scuffs over something raised beneath the snow, eyebrows raised. "Oh? Maybe the trick was just to compla-"

Bare fingers turn bright red at the tips where they sink into the cold to retrieve... a particularly unimpressive chunk of rock. Cyrene laughs at this, a sound that sounds only as disappointed as it does embarrassed. 

"Guess not, then." She turns the little rock over in her hand, then holds it with an amused little smile for the other to inspect, only for her fingers to pause halfway through the motion. It seems the secret hadn't been complaining, but rather looking just a little to the left. An abandoned, snow-buried village, and within it, monsters rummaging about. 

"...I think they might have beat us to it."

@silentintuition 𖹭.ᐟ