#firefly engage

[heroic-dichotomy]

[a midwinter night's encounter] -- iscarletus

[义] -- Beauty, he noted.

It was a rare sort, Zion realized, as he observed her from afar. Silent, modest, almost fragile -- held in place by tentative motions. He kept his gaze on her for a while longer, before lifting his head at last.

"What are you doing here?" came the inquiry, calm and mellow, as red eyes locked on -- barred from visible emotion.

[heroic-dichotomy]

The Regal Pursuit [Closed AU RP -- dj-hawkeye]

In the midst of the still, damp air, a single crash resounded, bouncing off the barks of the tall, sturdy oaks that littered the woods in a lengthy chain of echoes. Zion heaved a petulant sigh and he flipped his lance back into the sheath strapped to his back, before slowly treading forward, approaching the fallen beast in utmost caution.

This was the third ogre he'd encountered that day, and he was already fairly certain that even more would pounce should he venture further. People often spoke ill of the Forbidden Woods -- far-fetched tales of gruesome horror with far more discrepancies between them than Zion could count with his own fingers. Even now, he felt tempted to roll his eyes at some of the rumours he'd caught circulating around the kingdom.

And now, there he was, trudging through the ominous region, having discovered no ghouls, witches or multi-tailed foxes but just... ogres. Zion furrowed his brows as he bent forward on one knee, examining the carcass. The place seemed to be teeming with them, and they weren't like any specimen of ogre he'd ever come across. For one thing -- and for some bizarre reason that he couldn't quite work out -- they seemed to be capable of magic, and behaved more aggressively than usual (and he'd learnt this the hard way by almost getting his face scorched by a barrage of fireballs.)

Carefully, he leaned forward, igniting a burst of light within the palm of his armour-clad hand. Just as they were capable of magic, so were they sentient to its presence... or so he deduced from the way they appeared to gravitate toward him, bloodshot eyes brimming with an intent to kill.

The lack of response that followed confirmed that the creature was alive no more, and with that, he grasped it roughly by the horn, cracking it off with a considerable amount of effort. Stuffing it into the bag that hung loosely by his belt, he rose to his feet and carried on, knowing that regardless of what would come next, he'd have to be ready.

Knowing that he not only had a duty.

But a.... friend (dared he call him that? what blasphemy, they'd say) that needed him.

At the abrupt sound of rustling, Zion's ears perked up, and he stopped, digging the heels of his armour-clad feet firmly into the grass. He turned his head ever-so-subtly, stoic red eyes scanning the vicinity. Slowly, he reached for the lance behind his back, clutching it tightly.

He'd have to be ready.