@hoshidanxpride
The chaos of the battlefield had always been his life, but it had since become something of a close companion to him. Even when the fight was finished, war seemed to trail behind him wherever he went like it was his shadow; its sounds invading every facet of his existence no matter where he went.
The grand clash of metal and flesh as men and beasts crashed into each other like waves against rock. They broke and split, poured forth their lives to soak the earth that welcomed them into its embrace in return. There would be no slow rot for fallen warriors. No peaceful days in the light, until the flame was snuffed out with a frail breath. Men of war walked hand in hand with death; live by the sword, die by the sword.
Was it not nature, in the end? Everything died. Not even the Gods could stave off death -- though, they seemed the only ones capable of returning from it.
Here, in this place, he was pointed in a direction and told to take lives. Break their bodies, bleed dry their souls. Only the ones he was told to. The men and women that fought beside him were off-limits.
As if anyone could make death discriminate between who it dragged, kicking and screaming or softly and at rest, into the dark.
The roar of a dragon drew his attention, and Ike was moving without thought. Ragnell burst forth with blue and purple fire, the holy blade sinking into hard scales as if they were soft flesh; bones breaking against the assault of the heavy blade. The Manakete hardly knew what hit it as its snarling head was separated from its body. The hot spray of blood didn’t register as Ike felled the thrashing body before it could make any contact with one of his squad mates. A ranged fighter, something in his head reminding him to create distance for the bowman, keep enemies from getting too close.
“Hardly worth your fangs and fire...,” Ike growled, the flames in his heart hardly satisfied by such an easily defeated opponent. Glowing eyes slid slowly to his ally, his grip on Ragnell tightening.
He usually tried to keep his distance from the others that fought for the Order. It was one thing to let his rage out on their enemies, but attacking allies was...not something he wanted to do.
But his blood burned for that taste...
There were so many powerful warriors in the Order, and the roiling chaos in his head craved to enact that sort of betrayal. The sheer rush of emotion and turmoil that would cause. It was so tempting. So desirable to that searing part of him.
But Ike takes a step back, lowers his sword with a deliberate slowness.
“Don’t get...caught up in looking ahead. We’re too spread out. Won’t always...be close by to help.”
