𝖒ᴀᴄᴇᴅᴏɴ'ꜱ𝖗ᴇᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ

ᴜɴᴀꜰꜰɪʟɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴀᴄᴜʟᴛʏ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ

[reverenceofmacedon]

𝕶ɪɴɢ 𝕸ᴀᴄᴇᴅᴏɴ - 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐭

𝕸ɪᴄʜᴀʟɪꜱ ( 𝖛ᴏɴ 𝕸ᴇᴅᴏɴ ) / FE 1&3 | 11&12

―― pinned by 𝑬𝑴𝑴 

✧―  DMs always open!

―― ᴀ ᴋɪɴɢ ɪꜱ ʜᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ᴏʀ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ ɪꜱ ᴠᴀɪɴ.

𝑫𝑶𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑬𝑹.

Note: NONE of my muses have separate pages for their dossiers or info. It is all organized right here!

✧―  Age: 28-29 ✧―  Birthday: December 12th / 12 of the Ethereal Moon ✧―  Unaffiliated professor ( AXES, Authority, Heavy Armor, Flying ) & Knight ✧―  Former and defeated King Macedon taken from post-FE12 / elder brother to Blue Lions student Maria & Blue Lions faculty Minerva !

✧― Stat’s page

✧― Interview

Mun’s Notes: / Technical !

Formatting : I do use spunky fonts and symbols and occasionally small text! I bold and italicize as well! However, none of this stays consistent, so it’s hit or miss when I do it. If this doesn’t work when we write together, let me know!

Shipping : Being that Michalis has no primary relationship in the games he makes an appearance in, he is open for shipping! However, like with all my muses, I will only consider this option if chemistry between he and the interested party is very much present! I would also rather discuss it and make it official than assume it’s official.

Unprompted Asks : They are accepted! Non-meme asks (so character-driven ones) are always accepted!

Canon : I treat all threads, events, paralogues, asks, etc as canon unless the prompt (like a modern au) makes that a wee bit impossible! I just work them into the character’s memory of an interaction/character instead of into a specific timeline!

[reverenceofmacedon]

So, this is Maria's brother, huh? Yuri supposes there's a physical resemblance, if not quite a personality one. “Gonna join us for some shaved ice?” they call, gesturing to the bowl in their hand. “It'll melt if you take too long, c'mon. If you're not planning to eat, at least ice your bruises. I'm sure you're bound to have a few of them after we got flung around.”

“ Hm? “

A stranger — the sly one : full of clever words and suavity that glides from ( most certainly , he thinks ) a forked tongue.

But Macedon’s heir concedes and takes offered ice — a courtesy he isn’t so sure of ( but it is easing — even the thinnest string of trust. And they had , together , suffered the many wailings and bashings of loose walls and even looser tiling underfoot , slipping from chamber to chamber like a child’s floppy toys. )

“ Yes , “ He grumbles , but scoops a second helping — perhaps it will stay proper until he finds Maria again. “ But I’ll survive. The ice has a proper use , and I intend to give one such treat to my kin . . . if I can find her. “

( Because , in all of Naga’s lore and wisdom , where in the draconic hells were they? )

“ Use the rest on the others. I’ll not waste it on bruises. “

[reverenceofmacedon]

"i suppose i misjudged you," comes the pleasant greeting, her voice soft against the backdrop of waves. a small laugh escapes as dorothea extends a bowl of syrupy, fruit-flavored ice ( a peace offering should there be any lingering hard feelings. ) "i'll admit — that little alliance meeting did nothing for first impressions. your answers surprised me."

she settles down beside him, the sand shifting beneath her as she lets out a thoughtful hum, eyes drifting to the horizon where the sun dips low over the sea. "you and maria both have a good sense of humor. no doubt she'd have been equally amused by all the commentary, just as you seemed to be."

a smile spreads.

"perhaps we should bring a treat back for her? she seems awfully fond of sweets. maria even named our fiends after them, did you know? pancake, shortcake, biscuit…"

” Is that so? “ Comes his grumble , and white sands shift underfoot — muddied by lapping waves , crested by white foam.

He accepts her offered treaty , eyes flickering over tangerine syrup , and eyes flicker again to the noontime sun — that silver-sharp horizon — as he spoons that delicacy.

“ I am not so wretched , “ He muses , spooning again into his treat — perhaps a redder , sweeter syrup should do better. “ But I should find no quandary in your misconceptions — you were . . . Not so bad , either. “

And what she claims — that humor so locked behind the firmest words — bewilders him , and he peers upon her curiously.

“ My humor . . . “ ( Has never so amused someone , he doesn’t recall. ) “ Hm. “

And what she speaks of — that knowledge of his sister , of her confectionary heart and affinity for all things sweet — curves a smile to his pink-scarred face , and rigid , worn features slacken in momentary respite.

And the most hearty of laughs rumbles deep within , and his scarred face uplifts.

“ She is , yes — the most adamant lover of pastries. Let me see. “ And he ponders for a moment — of apples and peaches and mangos and all these fruits sweet and whole. “ Peach — or mango. In Macedon , only in the mountains might you find such snow — and even then , I shouldn’t think it so common. She would . . . “

He smiles , looking away. “ Enjoy it , I think. “

[deliverred]

Eye To Eye

(x)

[deliverred]

"Ah, I see. So you have seen much struggle to even get to this point with your family," Lukas muses, a frown tugging at his features. "Then it's a shame that I simply added to that number last night. Considering I am a younger brother, I spoke on that which I know very little; the trials that an elder sibling goes through, both for and against their younger siblings, are likely ones I will never fully grasp."

Though, perhaps it was only a matter of time before his father decided to return to his grand project. He was hardly at the age of being incapable of siring more sons, after all.

"Perhaps there is a reason for the concern, as you say; at least you are aware of it. Some are forever blind to it, willfully or not. Yet you're here. You're putting in the effort, trying to look out for your sibling in a less than ideal situation." The smile he offers is measured, but there is an understanding. "You may not consider yourself admirable for it, but I think it's a fine thing."

He pauses, expression falling into something more serious.

"I know little of Fodlan's religious leanings, but where I'm from, our Gods reached a tipping point of madness that would have dragged us off the edge of the void with them, had we not severed those ties. To see another religious establishment so tightly wound around a place of learning and a military force...Well, it does breed some concerns," Lukas replied, tone even.

Soulless eyes and muted despair. Honored dead desecrated, forced from their places of rest to wander unless put to purifying flame. The land itself spewing poison like putrid puss from a wound.

"If our situation here becomes more dire, you will certainly have my cooperation in defense of the students. Your sister is on my team, and just as with the other students, I would not hesitate to place myself in between her and danger."

Neither of their souls were clean, but they could see eye to eye on that.

Lukas is somewhat caught off-guard by the question, his gaze shifting away as he turns thoughtful. "My hope in knowing him...?" What a question, indeed. They had been a fixture in each other's lives, but ever opposing, never meeting in the middle.

His gaze remains focused somewhere on the floor, hands clasped tight behind his back, before lifting another smile onto his face. Small, tinged with something he doesn't understand and cannot put a name to. "I think...I should have liked to know him at all, and be known in return. To know that, despite our differences or mistakes made between us, there is a connection that could not be broken by anything."

Whatever relationship Michalis had with his sisters, he was still in their lives, he knew them -- he cared, even if it was not perfect.

"I do not think you have to fear not being seen as strong or capable by Maria. You are a big brother who would do anything, no matter how it dirtied your hands or your soul, for her. She is able to hope because of the path you guard for her." A slight laugh, then, "But do not fear being vulnerable. She has the hands of a healer, they are gentle on a heart of turmoil, if you let them reach it."

@reverenceofmacedon

[reverenceofmacedon]

It is all that he’s before heard and then all that he hasn’t : of want to know one’s kin , to bond among all tribulations , but he stood not in the shoes of the younger sibling — only in those of an eldest who took young sisters to jagged cliffs to watch tangerine sunsets ( for they never could rise as spry as his early regime would demand to watch sea-side sunrises ).

But it is an odd thing — Michalis of Macedon speaking of hope and that piercing white light that had so safely guarded him from death , and he looks away , the art of comfort uneasy on a warlord’s tongue.

“ If my first sister should still dare to look upon me , “ He begins , brows drawn fiercely together. “ And regard me not as the man she opposed but as her friend from our youth , there is hope for you yet. “

For he had never thought she’d so welcome him again — that she’d raise spear and axe and wyvern maw against him with nary a hesitation.

“ But I must disagree , one last time. “ And he raises a broad hand to assuage both tempers , shaking his head. “ There is no greater shame than for a healer to have need to raise their staff — in battle or otherwise , especially if it is by careless courage that their patient suffers injury. “

( And that had been him , yes — so reckless among warlords and desperate against oppressing Dolhr , and the pink of long-healed scars still marred his face for it , sutured endlessly by the young hands of his healer sister. )

“ Maria should not have endured the nights of laboring on me. “ He shakes his head. “ It cannot be changed — what happened — but it shall not pass again. That is why I have sworn so strongly to her safety. And . . . you have my gratitude if you should ever aid her and I’m away. “

[deliverred]

It is clear as day that this is not something Michalis does often, and if Lukas knew him better, perhaps he would appreciate the words being offered him. But, as the man himself had said, they did not know one another well and Lukas was leaving information out about his own circumstances.

There would be no second chance with his brother. There had never been a first. They were both likely better off if never again did they see each other.

"I shall try to take that to heart. Perhaps all we needed was some time away from each other, space to put things into perspective," Lukas hums out, tone still thoughtful and a bit far away.

Their situations were not the same. Michalis and his sisters had at one time been connected through genuine love for one another. Somewhere, it seems they clashed on something -- important enough to draw lines in the sand, but not so unforgivable as to be barred from a future where they might build that bond back up. In the eyes of his brother, Lukas' crime was existing; it was a wide and wild river that separated them, and he did not think a bridge could ever span those fraught waters between them.

Lukas inclines his head. "That is indeed what we should strive for, but such a standard cannot always be achieved. Healers give a part of themselves to everyone they heal, so I understand the desire to minimize such...well-intentioned self-harm." He had lost count of the times he'd stood as a wall between foe and healer, but no matter how thick his armor or how pointed his spear, damage was accumulated -- and healing light was always there at his side, both giving what the other could not endure.

"You do not hesitate to throw yourself into danger for her sake," Lukas says, red gaze once more returning to Michalis', "I would urge you to think of her actions in much the same way. Perhaps she should not have been put into that position, but it was out of the love she holds for you that she labored so, just as you do now for her."

His smile shifts, more encouraging than the unnamed tug it had been just before. "It's nice, to see such dedication between brother and sister. You have my word that I will do what I can on my end for Maria, but you would do well to safeguard yourself for her benefit as well. These games are becoming more intense, and I cannot help but wonder how long our team will remain teams..."

[reverenceofmacedon]

( To ponder that another could see the fraternal strings of love between brother and sister , and yet , himself , feel only its merest tug where she had so sutured him whole with white-magicks stirred in his chest , and perhaps not all the world would assay him for passing histories to keep him from the bond he should have bloomed between his sisters. )

“ You offer that the world may look past horrid deeds. “

And he hopes it shall — that Macedon’s eldest may walk among the common souls and let neither the scars upon his face or upon his breastbone bring foes against him : accusations of tyranny or discredit of his love for stoic Minerva or benevolent Maria.

“ But we must first overcome this island , “ He grumbles. “ and keep alliances from revolution — and I ask it once more : if friendships should turn and hearts be swayed , protect Maria — even if you must contend against former friends. Then you shall have no greater ally than Michalis of Macedon. “

He turns , and casting eyes to cerulean seas , arms fold.

“ But if you were ever so curious , “ He begins , and lips tilt at their corners. “ In our earlier brawl , you’d be no contender against me. “

[deliverred]

Eye To Eye

(x)

[deliverred]

"Ah, I see. So you have seen much struggle to even get to this point with your family," Lukas muses, a frown tugging at his features. "Then it's a shame that I simply added to that number last night. Considering I am a younger brother, I spoke on that which I know very little; the trials that an elder sibling goes through, both for and against their younger siblings, are likely ones I will never fully grasp."

Though, perhaps it was only a matter of time before his father decided to return to his grand project. He was hardly at the age of being incapable of siring more sons, after all.

"Perhaps there is a reason for the concern, as you say; at least you are aware of it. Some are forever blind to it, willfully or not. Yet you're here. You're putting in the effort, trying to look out for your sibling in a less than ideal situation." The smile he offers is measured, but there is an understanding. "You may not consider yourself admirable for it, but I think it's a fine thing."

He pauses, expression falling into something more serious.

"I know little of Fodlan's religious leanings, but where I'm from, our Gods reached a tipping point of madness that would have dragged us off the edge of the void with them, had we not severed those ties. To see another religious establishment so tightly wound around a place of learning and a military force...Well, it does breed some concerns," Lukas replied, tone even.

Soulless eyes and muted despair. Honored dead desecrated, forced from their places of rest to wander unless put to purifying flame. The land itself spewing poison like putrid puss from a wound.

"If our situation here becomes more dire, you will certainly have my cooperation in defense of the students. Your sister is on my team, and just as with the other students, I would not hesitate to place myself in between her and danger."

Neither of their souls were clean, but they could see eye to eye on that.

Lukas is somewhat caught off-guard by the question, his gaze shifting away as he turns thoughtful. "My hope in knowing him...?" What a question, indeed. They had been a fixture in each other's lives, but ever opposing, never meeting in the middle.

His gaze remains focused somewhere on the floor, hands clasped tight behind his back, before lifting another smile onto his face. Small, tinged with something he doesn't understand and cannot put a name to. "I think...I should have liked to know him at all, and be known in return. To know that, despite our differences or mistakes made between us, there is a connection that could not be broken by anything."

Whatever relationship Michalis had with his sisters, he was still in their lives, he knew them -- he cared, even if it was not perfect.

"I do not think you have to fear not being seen as strong or capable by Maria. You are a big brother who would do anything, no matter how it dirtied your hands or your soul, for her. She is able to hope because of the path you guard for her." A slight laugh, then, "But do not fear being vulnerable. She has the hands of a healer, they are gentle on a heart of turmoil, if you let them reach it."

@reverenceofmacedon

[reverenceofmacedon]

It is all that he’s before heard and then all that he hasn’t : of want to know one’s kin , to bond among all tribulations , but he stood not in the shoes of the younger sibling — only in those of an eldest who took young sisters to jagged cliffs to watch tangerine sunsets ( for they never could rise as spry as his early regime would demand to watch sea-side sunrises ).

But it is an odd thing — Michalis of Macedon speaking of hope and that piercing white light that had so safely guarded him from death , and he looks away , the art of comfort uneasy on a warlord’s tongue.

“ If my first sister should still dare to look upon me , “ He begins , brows drawn fiercely together. “ And regard me not as the man she opposed but as her friend from our youth , there is hope for you yet. “

For he had never thought she’d so welcome him again — that she’d raise spear and axe and wyvern maw against him with nary a hesitation.

“ But I must disagree , one last time. “ And he raises a broad hand to assuage both tempers , shaking his head. “ There is no greater shame than for a healer to have need to raise their staff — in battle or otherwise , especially if it is by careless courage that their patient suffers injury. “

( And that had been him , yes — so reckless among warlords and desperate against oppressing Dolhr , and the pink of long-healed scars still marred his face for it , sutured endlessly by the young hands of his healer sister. )

“ Maria should not have endured the nights of laboring on me. “ He shakes his head. “ It cannot be changed — what happened — but it shall not pass again. That is why I have sworn so strongly to her safety. And . . . you have my gratitude if you should ever aid her and I’m away. “

[reverenceofmacedon]

It takes a bit of searching around, but Lukas eventually finds the man he'd been looking for. Still as sharp featured and serious looking as that night around the fire, he pauses only long enough for his presence to be noticed before fully closing the distance between them. There's a respectable space between them, Lukas' gaze meeting Michalis' steadfastly as he nods a silent greeting.

"I believe I owe you an apology for my harsh words and lack of understanding that night," he begins, posture held firm with military rigidness. "Perhaps this place is getting under my skin, and…perhaps I allowed my own personal experiences to color your drive and care for your sister. I've never had such close bonds with my own older brother, or any of my family for that matter, and it can become difficult to see such selfless protectiveness when I was exposed to anything but. That is a fault of no one but myself, and I should not have dragged your concerns or intentions through the mud as I did."

He punctuates his next words with a proper bow, gaze dropping away from Michalis' only on account of his actions. "My behavior was disrespectful and unbecoming, and I apologize for treating you in such an unwarranted manner."

"I've not spent much time with Maria, but she's a gentle and kind soul. It's a rare gift, to be the bearer of such hope for the world. I heard your words but I was not rightfully listening to them; I feared I saw a reflection of my own situation, the freedom of choice being stripped away with no care toward the one losing it, but having had time to reflect on our altercation…I see that I was wrong to assume such. You would do whatever was required for your sister -- to be safe, happy, free to walk what paths she wished -- and that is the mark of an admirable man."

It is no first time that the gnarled branch of peace has been offered unto him ( and it is no such startlement that , as he had when that sapphire Altean lord had offered it , he accepts it now with so little qualm — for Minerva had offered it once along that lord , and he had been so harsh to dissuade her from suturing the sunders in their family tapestry ). Perhaps . . . That could be amended even now.

“ You’ll not be the first to come against me in such way , “ He grumbles. “ It is no uncommon thing for others to challenge my care of Maria. “

He shakes his head , scoffing hushedly. “ But there is truth to it — that concern. I have . . . another sister — one between myself and Maria — and she has come against many a time on Maria’s behalf. “

He turns again to charred logs and long-dissipated flame , lips pursing as thoughts pondered.

“ But you must see it — the danger that establishment thrusts the youth into. Choice or not , “ He shakes his head. “ It cannot be expected of them to die like mere footsoldiers — fodder for a greater lord. I’ve sent many into battle , and even less have returned , and what this church does is no different. “

It had been no more than the greatest shame that Maria had need to fight in their homeland — had need to mend and suture and fare in an army so destined on the beaten path of hardship and woe.

“ But do not call me admirable ,” He declares. “ We know not the other , and I’ll not be misdeemed so honorably — there are cleaner souls for it. Instead , regard that establishment with care — its soul is no cleaner than mine , sending children to dusty death. “

Macedon’s heir regards the man and nods. “ And this brother that you know so little , what was your hope in knowing him — that he was strong , bold? I should like to know — I should like Maria to see me that way. “

[hresvelged]

” You. “

He joins her presence on booted heel , arms steadfast against his chest , a resolve flame-like and iron-wrought creased into his visage.

“ You may call me Michalis , “ He offers , and nods ( for he’s certain he’s read it before that she hails exaltedly from imperial territory ).

“ You say you know Maria , “ He implores , standing distantly before her. “ And you did not oppose so heavily to assuming we’re no more than cannon-fodder for monasterial affairs. Say , you see it too — the senseless dangers they pit against the youth? “

The blunt greeting is what catches the girl's attention. Sudden and, even improper, introduction paving way to what the true intent of conversation is. Her brow quirks; the curtness cutting through the air.

"You understood correctly," she concurs. "I don't particularly disagree with that. It would be foolish to ignore the monastery— the church's, rather— past actions. Take Pasithee, for example.. I've been unable to learn further despite the fact she was kept within their reach."

Edelgard sweeps a hand onto her hips, peering upwards to make eye contact: "I happen to have met Maria on one of those very missions some time ago now. I've no interest for speaking on others' behalf's, but it's as I've said to others— Choices need to be made by a person's hands alone. Undermining the truth and resolve in someone else's decisions is not a course I steer towards."

A toss of snow locks over her shoulders: "Refer to me as Edelgard."

[reverenceofmacedon]

Pasithee . . . Had that been the desert hells and the mad beast ? ( He can’t recall — perhaps a sliver of him dissuades from recalling the worry of then , and has thus locked that name from his mind ).

He waved a broad hand , head shaking , a coarse sigh rumbling from within.

“ You misunderstand : I haven’t questioned her resolve in the slightest — not since our reunion overseas , “ Garnet locks sway , and he sighs again. “ I could not — would not. It is her resolve that snatched my miserable soul from hell ; I’ve not credited her for less since. “

Brows furrow , firm displeasure creasing into the shadows of his face. “ And not even the mightiest of Archanea — or even in your land of Fodlan — could deter her from aiding any deserving or undeserving soul. But she is no knight , and her kindness extends even to those that would abuse it , and it is my wish as her eldest sibling to keep her safe. “

He heaves in , quelling the ire that sir from earlier had so ticked , and looks upon the girl again , face set. “ I ask merely that if you should find yourself her ally again , you would aid her — be that with or against the church. Fanatic religious establishments have . . . dealt Maria a great hardship before. “

Michalis shakes his head again. “ And I will not call you by your given name — we are not so close , stranger to stranger , in lands where formalities exist. A last name , perhaps ? “

[reverenceofmacedon]

Once they had all made it back to dry land, sopping and in various states of emotional extremes, Dimitri scanned the crowd, now finally seeing the faces of all competitors at once, rather than merely those at his side.

"Ah! Professor! Hello!" Pushing the wet hair from his eyes, Dimitri came to stand beside the great red man - hadn't they constructed this course together, even? The Goddess's funny little threads of fate - and attempted a smile, though he knew merely by looking that Michalis's performance during the games was on par with his own.

They were both better than this, weren't they?

It was not that he begrudged the other competitors, who had done so much better, their victories, but it stung nonetheless - and he no where near as acerbic as the other man was.

"It seems the Goddess did not smile on us today, professor," he said ruefully, but extended his hand to shake regardless. They were not on the same team, but the kinship was there regardless. "We shall have to improve if we're to keep up with everyone."

He's wringing garnet locks of their dampness and his brigand's attire of waters made scarlet by that bleeding boy ( & he knows his shoulder bears the most brilliant hue of sanguine , as he'd hefted the boy and swam ashore with him thereupon ) as the chiefest of leonine students joins his company , and Macedon's heir withholds his grumble.

" Pick one. " He begins to plait his hair , and pondering no more of Maria's ruined handiwork elects this time to fashion his locks with his mother's lilac cloth , and he weaves and twists so unlike his callused hands. " Goddess or improvement — damnable fate or self-wrought victory. "

( Had not the goddess of his home forever shunned his realm in favor of a land that steeped in marshes , its banner glimmering sapphire under humidity's sun? Of that most damnable Altea blessed with a blade of legend — a legacy to persist into epochs tenfold? )

" The Goddess either loves you or comes against you — blesses you with her good graces if you keep to childish morality. Don't be foolish. " He shakes his head , stringing a knot of that lilac cloth to close his work. " We will go forward , and if she refuses to smile upon us , " He stands , touching to the scar beneath his sleeveless tunic — that place the Altean's company had nigh rent him in two. " She will see that her power frightens no one. "

So he takes the young man's hand , and holding firmly avows this , and with a nod bows from his company.

" I must go find another member of your house. May noontime treat you well. "

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[rozyrne]

HUH?? STARTLED EYES SNAP WIDE ; how'd the professor know what he'd just been thinking——? but the man strides off without another word, and the hopeful explanation that all he'd done was answer his question... dies in his throat, too slow to come out. ... well that was pretty crazy ; maybe he could read minds? people here had all kinds of powers going on. or just a coincidence.

either way, feeling like he'd kinda said something wrong but not knowing what, rosado follows after.

one last obstacle, this one looking more harrowing than either of the others. or maybe that's just the tall poles stretching way up above the water speaking. swallowing a gulp, he summons his courage and starts making his way up. for the snakes! for glory! for... the likes!

as he steadies himself at the top of the pole and straightens on wobbly legs, he can only think that it's a good thing he's not afraid of heights. wonders if any of the other contestants are, and feels pretty bad for them. and definitely doesn't expect the beam in the middle to start swinging that fast.

roll ,⠀9. hit!　4 damage. rosado 6/10hp.

"aaahghga!"

what happened to practice mode? wasn't the first time supposed to be easier??

without time to think, he can only try to scramble back onto his feet before the beam comes around a second time.

roll ,⠀15. hit!　4 damage. rosado 2/10hp.

ugh... not going too good. trying to keep the strain off his face, he tries to look over at the others——caspar's not looking great either, but the professor's still jumping.

the beam picks up speed more, and there's no way he can get back up again before it reaches him on the next rotation, so arms and legs just clutch tight to the pole and eyes squeeze shut to brace for the impact——

roll ,⠀17. crit!　8 damage. rosado 0/10hp.

terrible idea when stars explode, stunning him beyond thought and movement, and he doesn't even feel himself falling, only able to register the thundering pain in his skull and wonder, vaguely, if he'd managed to do something really bad to himself this time.

he's unconscious by the time he hits the water. though fortunately floats to the surface face-up.

[berglietz]

Caspar scoffs at the thought of Michalis having someone to give flowers with an attitude like his. What kind of saint would someone have to be to accept them? He stomps his way up the walkway to the final platform, preoccupied with his thoughts. It's only once he's face to face with the massive beam in the center that he truly registers the challenge, as well as the steep drop to the water below.

Roll 1: 17 , Hit! -4HP ; Caspar 6/10HP

Yipes! it's fast, too! The horizontal arm of the beam knocks his feet right out from under him, leaving him teetering on the edge of his platform. No no no, he's not going down yet——!

Roll 2 : 2, Miss!

His leap over the beam is more of a dive. Knees and hands both hit the platform hard on the landing, but at least he's back closer to the center! Now he just needs to stand up and—

Roll 3: 16, Crit! -8HP ; Caspar 0/10HP

Wham! The speeding beam catches him in the side, cleanly sweeping him off the platform. He twists through the air in a cat-like motion that does little more than give him a perfect view of the water before he plunges into it. His head surfaces quickly after, shaking from side to side and spraying droplets every which way. "And why do you suddenly care if we drown or not? I—whoa, Rosado! Are you alright?" There's no response. Multicolored tendrils swirl through the water surrounding Rosado's face, curling around Caspar's hand when he cups his hand beneath the boy's head to lift it up higher. "Michalis! If you suddenly care so much, go get a medic, would ya?!"

[reverenceofmacedon]

Long strokes join him at the side of both boys — one in a fretful panic and the other . . . incapacitated — and he knows to fret and grovel beneath the threat of death is no easy thing ( had done it himself for many moons under the angelic care of his youngest sister , and though he was no angel , did they not share blood — he and Maria ? )

So he hefts the boy over his shoulder and secures him with a firm arm , and nodding to the embankment urges the aliferous student to swim ashore as a swimmer's dexterity brings him to sand and muddied water's edge.

" I have a sister your age , " He mutters , and with great and easy care departs the whimsical youth from his shoulder , laying him carefully on white sands that sparkle beneath noontime's sun. " She would . . . "

He inhales and presses to his sternum — that place caught roughly against the log he'd stood and leapt on — and breathing out slowly shakes his head. His hair! Maria's careful , dextrous craft — ruined!

" She'd help. "

Gingerly , callused fingertips slip the rose from his slipping locks and unfasten his sister's handiwork , securing the sash of that putrid yellow about the space where shoulder meets bicep ; he lays the rose beside the boy.

" Tell him he can keep it , the flower — I'll find another one. " ( Because he thinks , in his aching , surely cracked chest , that Maria might be proud he relinquished a flower to someone who had lost theirs ).

" I stand by it , " He declares , standing , and holds to his chest. " What I did in that dune-infested hell. I'll do it again , given it'll benefit me. But for now —" He nods , and garnet locks damp and cluttered together sway. " —I'll find that medic. Stay here , watch him. "

( — 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃. )

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[rozyrne]

OOOOOKAY, DEFINITELY PAST BEEF. from what he can make out of their back and forth past all the swinging things and whooshing and everything. something about being a traitor? sounds kinda serious.

roll ,⠀3.　+2 spaces roll ,⠀1.　1 damage. 7/10hp

timing the next jump between ball-and-chains, rosado lands next to caspar, and not a second after professor michalis clears the last stretch of the course, making it safely to the other side.

and good thing too ; he wasn't looking too great. a concerned glance casts around for any healers on standby... no? was he just supposed to keep going like that?

suddenly his smarting ankle didn't feel like all that big a deal by comparison.

roll ,⠀0 forever.　we are standing in place for a long time

looking back at his last remaining rival, he sees caspar eyeing up the rhythm of a——giant glove or something, hesitating on the last sprint. "aw, don't think you can make it through?" it's sort of genuine, but also sorta not——the cheekiness tucked in tone gives him away as he waits to watch with bated breath. it didn't really matter who made it to the end first, right? just that none of them were getting knocked off?

two arms tuck behind his back, hooking as he sways back and forth expectantly. "hmmm, i bet you can do it. bet you can do it in one shot. come on caspar, better make it count!"

roll ,⠀2.　+1 space. roll ,⠀0.　0 damage. 7/10hp roll ,⠀2.　+1 space.　FINISH!

finally, caspar clears! "whoooo!!" both arms shoot up in celebratory cheer——maybe he shouldn't be rooting for another team, and he wasn't really, just complimenting a nice job. nothing wrong with that. with things just waiting on him now, he helps himself to the end too, finding a nice, long gap between swings and sorta half-limping his way across to the finish line and looking over at the professor when he speaks up.

...

... oh! was ' mystical stranger ' supposed to be him? aw, that's nice. "oh, the flower crown? those were just some wildflowers we found on the island. i can show you when this is over!" and really, if it was flowers he just wanted, he could've just said so. a flower crown would look good on someone like him, he thinks.

and just in time, here comes someone with some medical supplies to patch them up. pit stop before the last leg of the race.

[berglietz]

"H-huh? Of course I can make it!" Caspar takes a step forward, only for a heavy bag to swing past mere inches from the tip of his nose. Hooookay. One shot. He can still do it in one shot. Just stand back for a few seconds, watch the blades and bags and such swing past on their pendulums. Look for the gap between them.

Movement roll: 0 Movement roll: 0

There!

Movement roll: 3! Moves forward 2 spaces! Finish!!

He darts through that miniscule gap, skidding to a halt beside Michalis at the finish. "The power of friendship is stupid, but you believe in flower power?" He mutters, turning on his heel to watch Rosado duck through to the final platform. "Weirdo…." A medic approaches with bandages in hand, wiping the smudges on Caspar's face clean through his mild squirming protests. "We've still got one more round to go and we're already getting patched up? Can't it wait until we're all the way through?"

[reverenceofmacedon]

" The flowers aren't for me , fool , " He grits as sutures sting , and bandages are wound fiercely about seeping wounds ( & he ponders longingly of Maria's staff and more . . . clementine regards toward medicinal practices. And was it so weak — for a man to ask for mercy against singing wounds ? )

He stands , a quick thunder caged beneath his sternum , and marches onward to the next hellish game : looming logs situated erect — designed for a ploy to sweep one's own feet from beneath them.

So he climbs and climbs to its great height , and no sooner had company joined when the great beam in the center swung without remorse , and instinct bade him leap high beyond its whirring presence , knees tucked to his chest.

Round 1 Rolled: 3 ; Miss! - No dmg. 10/10HP

( The fall . . . it's something dire into cool , teal waters , and he's certain that the steel sweeper bludgeons too terribly akin to a fierce beast ).

And it comes around again ; he leaps once more , tucking hardy knees against a firm chest , kept high over a looming fall when booted feet land again on the beam.

Round 2 Rolled: 3 ; Miss! - No dmg. 10/10HP

The others — bruised and bludgeoned fiercely by now — he winces against ( most especially the mystical boy who chimes so much like the joy of young Maria that . . . perhaps he was not so bad company like his brutish ally ).

" Point your toes when you fall ! " He calls ( and thinks it's only after wondering of his sister that he offers the kindness ). " Landing flat . . . it'll harm you ."

And as the beam comes again with great , gathered speed , he leaps ( but perhaps the stall for kindness had deterred his focus ) and the beam catches beneath his feet and topples him ; broad , coarse hands grasp roughly to wood , and colliding against his own post he heaves as breath flees his lungs.

" . . . Damn . . . "

Round 3 Rolled: 13 ; Crit! - 8dmg. 2/10HP

Shoulders flare as he hoists himself high again , and leveraging on his beam , he stands , staring as the sweeper comes again ; he leaps with lacking strength ( for the constitution in his lungs had gone after his collision , and he's sure somewhere beneath muscle and tissue he's bruised something ) and the log sweeps against his knees.

Round 4 Rolled: 18 ; Crit! -8dmg. 0/10HP

As he falls , he bolsters off the wood of his own beam , clearing a space in the air as he points stinging fingertips towards teal waters , and the coolness comes awash over him as he resurfaces — a balm for aching bones.

" Can you both —" He heaves in , arms treading over the surface. " Can you both swim? "

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[rozyrne]

NOT EVEN A LOOK BACK FROM THOSE TWO. WOW. lips tilt in a bit of a pout——guess they were really wrapped up in zinging each other instead. did they know each other, anyway? something something about foreign sands? no idea.

"just you and me, rosado," fae utters to himself, and takes in the swinging mechanisms again. poleaxe... beam... duffel bag... honestly, being hit full-on with one of those things could knock a man clean out. who'd put this obstacle course together, anyway?? those hosts that'd announced the games...? he's pretty sure they hadn't been human.

or maybe just really, really good disguises.

hard blinks put him back in focus. think about those later. okay, ready, timing, and... jump.

roll ,⠀3.　+2 spaces. roll ,⠀0.　rosado takes 0 damage. rosado 8/10hp.

he's tempted to say something again, try to convince the professor again that this was fine, really——but maybe that's just how they talked to each other when they were competing. makes sense ; live your best lives, then!

[berglietz]

"Rrgh—!"

Caspar growls lowly, old anger flaring back up with fresh heat as Michalis enters his space. His hand lashes toward the weighted pouch at his hip, flinging one toward the man at point-blank.

Attack Roll: 17! -1HP to Michalis!

"Fine! If you're gonna be like this—better to be a dog than a traitor!"

[reverenceofmacedon]

It collides with his shoulder , and a hand reaches as if to claw the boy but he withholds it , turning again on booted heel , and shakes his head.

" Yes , go and believe only in the faithfulness of people ."

Rolled: 3 , +2 spaces / 7 -> 9 Rolled: 0 ; 3/10HP -> 3/10HP

He steps forward on a quick heel , and dancing with a warrior's grace ( and a relish in the sting of aching muscles ) vaults himself beyond slots seven and eight and lands upon the precipice of victory.

" You were all so foolish , " He grits. " —believing in humanity. Pah! "

And he leaps again , and clutching to sunders in need of sutures lands at the game's end , he doubles to his knees to intake breath in flaming lungs.

Rolled: 3 , +2 spaces / 9 -> 10. Finish line reached!

" Like a stupid child — the power of friendship and all that hog wash. "

When breath has kissed his lungs and vigor has returned , he erects himself , and broad hands situate on sore hips.

" What flowers were those of yours, mystical stranger — at the start? And . . . where might I find them? "

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[rozyrne]

FROWN LENGTHENS WHEN THE PROFESSOR'S scolding doesn't look like it's letting up anytime soon——in fact, pretty much the opposite.

roll ,⠀2.　+1 space. roll ,⠀2.　rosado takes 2 damage. rosado 8/10hp.

"i dunno if it's that serious... " he mumbles thoughtfully under his breath, eyes cast off to the side as he picks his way forward after a swinging pickaxe whistles by. but in getting distracted, doesn't notice in time the column-like punching bag that quickly follows it.

with a short cry, he tries to twist himself out of the way, but the side of the heavy thing clips him hard——and foot lands unevenly in his haste not to be sent right off the platform. "ah!" wincing, he hobbles and hops, trying to get to a safe gap ; and only when he's clear of the swinging objects does he take the chance to examine his ankle.

nothing too wrong.. no swelling, for now.

"i'm okay! just, stepped weird." ouch, ouch...

[berglietz]

Caspar barks out a rough laugh as he charges past Michalis once more, giving him a shove with his shoulder as he passes. It's definitely not that serious, and the professor definitely doesn't know Caspar well enough to know how to get under his skin on purpose. He wouldn't abandon any soldier to die alone, and he hardly has a station to hold onto in the first place.

Movement Roll: 3! Move forward 2 spaces

And all of that hardly matters right now...! He focuses on bobbing between the swinging weaponry, ducking low beneath a blade.

Damage Roll: 1-1 = 0! No damage!

"C'mon!" He calls, "It's no fun if I leave both of you in the dust!"

[reverenceofmacedon]

The boy shoves him , and he reaches to snag his collar and cast the brute over the edge , but the boy scrambles by — crying out barking words.

So Michalis bolts and steps by swinging blades , and he feels the snag of a deep blade's edge against his side and the warmth that trickles thereafter , and he scoffs.

Rolled: 2 , +1 Spaces -> Space 7. Rolled: 3-1 = 1 -> -1HP ; 5/10HP -> 4/10HP.

" None of this is fun , " He mutters , pressing against his side , his shoulder , and soon he's sure a blade will snag his heart and they'll understand the church has condemned them all to terror and agony.

( That's . . . how the heats of foreign deserts had become : a mad house intent on disunity — a singular goal in mind , and despite the love in personal intents , he'd turned traitor as he had before . . . )

" So quit barking like a dog. I'll leave you lot quicker than I fled your company in foreign sands. "

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[rozyrne]

WELL, NOTHING OF IT, REALLY. but before he can say that he hadn't meant it like that, the professor's moving again and the opportunity's gone. a sigh weights slender shoulders ; really set on whatever goal it was he had in mind, that guy, wasn't he. makes him kinda curious——he said he was trying to reach someone...?

roll ,⠀1.　no movement.

looking past him though, mouth quirks in a deadpan look at caspar a pace ahead, gloating something about war paint. carelessly, rosado plucks one of the pouches from his waist and winds up his throwing arm——

"you're not half as cute all bloodied up, silly."

roll ,⠀17.　-1hp to caspar.

——bap. pouch sails over michalis' head to strike the blue-haired boy's with a bit more force than he'd meant. oh. were those things weighted, like sand bags? oops. well, probably it'd just smart for a minute.

take it as payback for his flower crown.

[berglietz]

"Tch, let 'em come at me then. I'm not trying to be cute, I--"

--bap.

The blow is much heavier than expected. Caspar's puffed-up posture is knocked aside, sending him tottering dangerously close to the edge of the platform. His arms windmill out as he wobbles forward, back, forward-- and back a few steps to safety.

Movement Roll: 1!

"It means I can take anybody on, and a tiny bit of blood loss won't stop me...!"

(Certain blows might make him pause, though. He'd lost the timing window to duck past the next set of blades.)

[reverenceofmacedon]

He springs forward on quick feet , the sear in his shoulder a subsiding ache , and lands beyond either boy on rickety wood that creaks underfoot and threatens under his great stature to crumble ( & and he knows most certainly the architects might wish them dead , and fears all the more for Maria's safety . . . wherever she may be ).

Rolled: 2 , +2 Spaces -> Space 6. Rolled: 3-1 = 1 -> -1HP ; 6/10HP -> 5/10HP.

Broad hands hold to fresh slices , and he presses and presses against seeping wounds trickling from thin gashes , but their sting is no softer than a kiss.

( Because he remembers the days of laying cot-ridden , feeling nothing , and knows the sting of pain outweighs the anguished , barrenness of death with hope that he yet lives ).

" Then pray to whatever creature holds your beliefs that your soldiers don't desert you for your foolishness, " He grumbles , turning , and gazes upon the both of them. " Your corpse wouldn't rally them , and you'd be no more a noble of your station than a dishonorable fool begging for his dignity after you've led them to death. "

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[rozyrne]

AND THERE GOES CASPAR NEXT, just as ready to bleed. handle real challenges, huh...

hadn't they already proved that?

rosado sighs——this is an obstacle course, and he's not going to get any farther just standing here. if he forfeits... how could he look the other snakes in the eye? ares, at least, was going through this same course, and something tells him he wouldn't just turn around and go home here. and, who else. hadn't there been emblem dimitri earlier too? yeah, also not the type to back down.

on top of that, who knows what everyone else is doing.

"okay rosado..." face sets in a⠀(⠀almost comical⠀)⠀look of resolve. with these kinds of things, it was best to just go before he thinks about it. just——

roll ,⠀3.　move 2 spaces. roll ,⠀0.　no damage.

hop, and hop. phew, landing right next to the others with a fae-light gait⠀(⠀and not quite a shimmer if you don't look!⠀)⠀, just in time to hear maybe-professor michalis direct a scaling line at caspar, catching him by surprise. "hey, no need to argue," he tries amicably, poking his head forward between theirs with a side-to-side smiling glance. "no one's stopping you from doing anything, sir, uh... actually, i meant to ask: are you a professor at the academy? you look familiar, but."

[berglietz]

Ugh, whatever! Caspar doesn't mean to diss Rosado, but he can't stand being around all the hot air mister Wyvern Professor is huffing and puffing out any longer.

Movement Roll: 3! Moves 2 spaces

He barrels through the swinging blades and bludgeoning tools with all the grace of a charging bull-- and gains some fresh bruises for his efforts. One heavy hit from a pendulum nearly sends him toppling off the platform, but he hops forward to a space between traps.

Damage Roll: 3-1 = -2HP! Caspar 6/10 HP

"And what's wrong with a little war paint?" With a swipe of his forearm, he smudges some of that red across his cheek. Sure, the cuts sting, but they're surface-level wounds, easily patched. "We're in a competition, after all!"

[reverenceofmacedon]

A gaze of garnet narrows upon the boy fae-like and mystical , and Michalis scoffs — how astute! ( And pitifully late , he ponders , as he watches the brutish boy clamber through swaying blades that glitter silver under summer's sun ).

" I am, " He offers , and knows there's ill repute sure to follow — he's never been much in the way of a caring heart , and perhaps there is no other heart prized among instructors. " Between missions , I'll instruct. What of it? "

( But he knows — as booted footfalls duck beneath the next blade , he knows most assuredly the boy thinks him an ill-fit for guidance and guiding ; and Michalis doesn't refute it , but allows the thought to simmer in his chest , and he wonders if Maria or Minerva , too , frowned upon his presence in academic walls ).

Rolled: 2 , +1 Spaces -> Space 4. Rolled: 3-1 = 2 -> -2HP ; 10/10HP -> 8/10HP

" It's not to be drawn from your own blood , your war paint! " He rumbles ahead , head shaking. " But that of foes or flowers or berries! Telling the enemy you've already bled — " His face hardens , a vicious grin thereupon. " — why , they'll feed on it like sharks! "

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[reverenceofmacedon]

It's with great strokes that he swims upon the next walkway so infested with swinging blades and swaying gadgets to undo one's footing ( with a momentary stall in his swim to collide against the Adrestian , sending awry his swim through the water ) that he accepts that an alliance had never been written into his bones — that it would be foe after foe upon him , and he stood in the company of two.

It was a dangerous thing , then — leading with enemies at your flank. ( But he would not be so disturbed if none here were , in their heart of wicked hearts , true friends , would he? Friendship was . . . fickle. )

( Yet he hopes for whichever island she's ventured upon that Maria finds herself in the company of souls much purer , and that perhaps he can believe she truly is safe . . . but the churning in his belly dismays him ).

And it's that very concern that hurries sturdy boots along rickety boards , and he slips between swinging blades and pummeling orbs , but a quick heel juts out to halt him before he can run his flesh through on a quick-swinging axe ( — he feels the sting that stops him : the searing that has scraped at his leading shoulder and bid him linger for a moment ).

Rolled: 3 , +2 Spaces -> Space 3. Rolled: 3-1 = -2HP ; 10/10HP -> 8/10HP No pouch thrown.

Getting to the other side . . . that would be to Maria.

" It's nothing personal , " He calls back ( save , perhaps , with the boy crowned in aquamarine — Michalis recalls his temper in that Naga-damned desert : unpleasant and pestering. That may be a smidgen close to his heart ). " But I will rent you limb from limb if you dare hinder me! "

[rozyrne]

GUESS THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE FOR IT but to forgive and forget for now. with a last dramatic sigh to let out all the distraught air in his lungs, he swings after caspar, leaving his trailing thoughts of regret and apology to all of prince alfred's hard work floating, distant, with the scattered remnants of the flower crown behind.

climbing back out the other side, he isn't given much chance to dry himself off, not even handed a towel!⠀(⠀isn't how these sorts of games were supposed to work?⠀)

and that michalis professor gets right to it yet again.

"augh, look out——!" only to, narrowly, almost, get sliced by a swinging axe. faes above, that could've been seriously gnarly. the thought of the image he might've just had to witness makes his skin crawl and a grimace fix sharply on delicate features as he eyes the obstacle course with new apprehension.

war was one thing.

but risking his limbs for some points in a team game...?

another growl from up ahead pulls his attention to michalis again, who's——gods, is he bleeding? he'd seriously just gone through with it without even batting an eye?

. . .and rosado thought he was competitive.

roll ,⠀1.　no movement.

"uh, if you say so! but, you know, i don't really think it has to be that serious. those axes look pretty sharp." hoping for confirmation that he's not the crazy one here, he looks to caspar doubtfully. "you don't think——i mean, is this still supposed to be the church's training or something?"

[berglietz]

The momentary collision with Michalis leaves Caspar sprawling and sputtering through the water, and he wastes precious seconds righting his course. (Whether or not the time between obstacles matters for his score, surpassing this jerk in whatever ways he can definitely matters for Caspar's ego.)

When he climbs up onto the next platform, he finds that he has some distance to catch up with one competitor, the other hasn't moved at all yet. He tilts his head, eyeing the contraptions that seem to be causing Rosado's hesitation.

"Training with real steel is how you prepare for real combat, right? If we're facing a little bit of real danger, that must mean that the church thinks we're tough enough to handle real challenges!"

Movement Roll: 3 - Move forward 2 spaces!

"Alright Michalis! You'd better get ready to do some renting, because I'm not just gonna-"

Damage Roll: 3-1 = -2HP! Caspar 8/10HP

"-Gah!"

Okay, those blades really do pack a punch! (Or...a slice?) It's only a glancing blow, though, and he's fully caught up to Michalis now. Caspar tilts his chin up to give the man a sharp, prideful grin.

[reverenceofmacedon]

It's half an inclination that stirs beneath his sternum to jostle the boy into swinging blades , but the sliver of his heart wrought of his mother knows the homicide of a child would fare no better ( and dare he think it worse ) than if he'd cleaved his father from the strings of life a second time ; so he keeps long arms folded above his breastbone and looks ahead.

" If you think yourself so great , " He chides. " Go on. Be the fool that paints these weak wooden boards red. "

Rolled: 1 -> no movement!

But he stays to his spot and holds to his bleeding shoulder , and he knows that if Maria were to find him , there'd be no greater woe upon her face to see the hue of red seep into his image. So he calms and resolves , but gravity weighs in his gut of a danger beyond swinging blades , and he ponders how she fares.

" It's just as the last time we met — I'm only trying to reach someone. You will not —" He glowers against the boy. " —stop me. "

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[rozyrne]

HE BARELY GETS TIME TO RUB THE WATER from his eyes before a rapidly-descending shadow is his only warning. "waaahhg!"

sploosh.

oh, it's caspar! ——waiiiit a second. that pink wildflower looks familiar. and that blue one too.

the other boy's head pops up a second later, this time accompanied by a startled "uUgH!" as water is splashed straight in his eyes again. but he doesn't mind that half as much as: "caspar, is that my flower crown? did you completely forget to take it off before you jumped?"

hand reaches half-hearted for its soggy remnants, already starting to come apart at the delicately-woven links to begin with. was there any hope of piecing this back together? deft fingers pinch two of the blossoms, but the petals crumble at the slightest touch, dissolving into the moving seawater waves that threaten to pull the other half right out of his hands.

"aw. . . "

[berglietz]

"I was supposed to take it off?" Y'know, that does make sense. Given that Rosado had taken it off before his jump and all. Not to mention the way that the water is now littered with flecks of color. "Oh no, I'm so sorry! Here, let me—" He flattens his palm beneath one of the stray flowers and lifts it up, frowning at the way the waterlogged petals lay limply in his hand. "Oh…jeez." "Once this is over with, I'll uh…make you a new one?" He'd never properly learned how, but it can't be that hard. It's like braiding hair, but with flower stems or something. Probably. A sharp whistle from overhead reminds him that he has other tasks to complete before he starts planning any arts and crafts projects. There's a second platform to swim over to! He ushers his competitors toward it with a sweep of an arm before diving forward to lead the charge toward their next destination.

[reverenceofmacedon]

It's with great strokes that he swims upon the next walkway so infested with swinging blades and swaying gadgets to undo one's footing ( with a momentary stall in his swim to collide against the Adrestian , sending awry his swim through the water ) that he accepts that an alliance had never been written into his bones — that it would be foe after foe upon him , and he stood in the company of two.

It was a dangerous thing , then — leading with enemies at your flank. ( But he would not be so disturbed if none here were , in their heart of wicked hearts , true friends , would he? Friendship was . . . fickle. )

( Yet he hopes for whichever island she's ventured upon that Maria finds herself in the company of souls much purer , and that perhaps he can believe she truly is safe . . . but the churning in his belly dismays him ).

And it's that very concern that hurries sturdy boots along rickety boards , and he slips between swinging blades and pummeling orbs , but a quick heel juts out to halt him before he can run his flesh through on a quick-swinging axe ( — he feels the sting that stops him : the searing that has scraped at his leading shoulder and bid him linger for a moment ).

Rolled: 3 , +2 Spaces -> Space 3. Rolled: 3-1 = -2HP ; 10/10HP -> 8/10HP No pouch thrown.

Getting to the other side . . . that would be to Maria.

" It's nothing personal , " He calls back ( save , perhaps , with the boy crowned in aquamarine — Michalis recalls his temper in that Naga-damned desert : unpleasant and pestering. That may be a smidgen close to his heart ). " But I will rent you limb from limb if you dare hinder me! "

[reverenceofmacedon]

//✧❂✧ 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝖂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝖂𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐭.

WEST ISLAND. ( " The Gauntlet " ) / Group 3. ✧ CASPAR. ROSADO. MICHALIS.

[reverenceofmacedon]

It is the strangest abomination — a course for frog feet over blue waters — and his nose turns up in the company of allies.

" I'll brave it. "

THE BIG BLOOD ORANGE BALLS OF DOOOOM! Michalis rolled . . . a 3! ( Need : 4 ) -> WIPEOUT!

And it's as his foot collides against the red of the great orb that dexterity buckles underneath and his legs shoot into rigidity , and as if leaping from the cliffs of Macedon in his boyhood , he makes certain his fingertips spear the water before he does.

Surfacing , he waves a broad hand. " Brace your legs! It's slick — they'll buckle! "