#lycianlynx

[princessmacedon]

Once again, brown eyes seek rose-red, like a fox to its burrow, like an eagle to an aerie— Find her, mostly unharmed like all the rest of them, the most they can ask for in this bunker, arrayed together like needles in a sewing-box. They cannot help the way their face softens when they look to her.

"Maria!" They call out, padding over eagerly, two parts of their spoils cradled in their arms; A Heal staff, an anima spell of relative potency. They take her hand, press both into it with both of their own and hold them there, warm and alive and mostly unharmed.

"Here," and here, they smile, "I found these for you while I was out. We need to keep working hard, yeah?"

After a beat, it erodes slightly at the edges, but not for want of affection; only the usual fretting. "... But don't overdo it. We're all gonna make it back, so we should act like it."

chad traded heal (15/20) and rabbit scroll (15/15) to maria!

There is an uncommon distance in her eyes as she stares elsewhere, the turn of her head just a beat slow, the smile on her lips a slighter shape at first.

"...Chad!" But again, not for want of affection; it reaches its full bloom as she beholds him, rising from her seat, allowing them one hand as the other hovers at their elbow. Fingers curl over her newfound gifts, a ticklish note further brightening her expression with its warm hues. "...For me? Hee hee!" The giggle quite slips past her lips without her permission, but she allows it, eyes squeezed shut in the moment and narrowed fondly when it passes.

And he worries for her. The waiting hand at last alights upon his elbow, a gentle touch holding him in place as she twists around to lay the presents on her perch. Another twist to return to him and there she simply looks.

"I like you," Maria declares suddenly, certainly. "I like you a lot," she says again, just so he can be sure. Her head tilts to one side, hair curtaining over her shoulder, and something sparkles in her eyes -- grateful, if touched by a sort of sorrow.

"I like your pretty eyes. Your shiny smile." She pulls her hand back to herself and catches his along the way, clasping it in both. "This kindness."

A breath in, and then at last -- a breath out. Her head feels clearer again.

"Thank you for bringing me these, Chad. Hee hee... You showed up right when I needed you!" Back and forth, she swings their hands to an easy rhythm, grin at bloom once more. "But, can I ask you one more favor? Tell me some things you like! It'll make planning your birthday present that much easier, heeheehee!"

[mercenarymage]

"Hugh?"

They had already realised they miss him, earlier, when he is not around. Worry, deeply, like they do for anyone they pledge themself to in one way or another. Sometimes, it's rough prods in the ribs, teasing and affectionate. Sometimes it's yelling at eachother in a drafty old house, affection in worry again. Either way, it is an unspoken 'please don't go', a roundabout 'let's go home'.

Softly, then louder. "Hugh. HUGH!"

They've developed a limp to favor their right leg in the past hours of hell on earth— Between injury, between flight, between being too restless-anxious to actually rest, heart beating an enduring staccato against the cage of their chest. their own vulnerability is barely a thought— It's in this incessant, uncertain searching that they realise that the certainty of who is gone and who remains that Araphen instilled in them was a fucking blessing in comparison.

One more certainty: Hugh is here. Hugh is here. They run to him wiithout a second thought, hurling themself against him, irreverent of whatever angle he's standing at, and knocks their head hard against his shoulder, and stills. They'd scoured every stone of this goddamn shelter and finally found Hugh.

Found lavender-night, violet-bright, russet-stone, snow and roses. Missing from this portrait of home, was still...

Meadowshine. Grass and daffodils, the harvest taking root. Face to the sunshine, to the spring, to...

One last uncertainty, all the more stark for their certainties. Terror yawns wide. Their fingers curl in the fabric of his clothes. Their shoulders begin to shake. Every time they manage to keep the fraying of their nerves together, the tugging and pulling of that worn weave starts to make it come apart. Once-steady breaths stick and hitch and choke. "—I can't find Lugh," They speak, a rush all at once, and voicing the fact is what makes their fear burst apart at the seams.

"I can't find Lugh," He repeats, slower, horrified, "I c-can't find Lugh, I, I can't find him, I,"

The words accelerate, scramble but don't stop. Hugh's shirt is growing damp. Chad's hands are growing clammy. "—Don't know— Know where he, I can't—" A gasp, voice steadily rising, "I can't find, I, Hugh, I can't lose h— I, I can't, I can't I can't I can't—!!"

The impact comes when he least expects it. It's after he's been patched up thanks to the help of Elffin, found time to put at least something in his stomach to keep his body steady. Anything that Hugh had been thinking, had been worrying, had been uncertain about - all of that had stalled to a halt in that moment.

A wishful self awaits a playful jab, a 'how dare it take so long to find you'. Something that shows him the person that proves to Hugh that there's some hope to be had.

The grip on his clothes tighten. This isn't like the last he's seen him upset. At least then, they were able to determine that the person he was worried for was ok. More importantly, the person back then was among them, instead of...

A careful hand is placed on their head. Above all else, the last he wants is for Chad to believe that he needs to be strong now. He doesn't have to prove anything to Hugh. And with everything that's happened, all Hugh wants to do is to give them the chance to breathe, before everything comes crashing down on all of them once more.

"I'm worried about Lugh too." He speaks carefully, a practiced levelness to hide how truthfully scared he is. "But I'll find him. Not everyone was at the monastery, and he's a smart kid. I'll make sure to bring him back home."

Hugh has no idea how to respond if he's questioned about it. About whether or not it's the case, about what happens if he's wrong about his assumptions. Just as much as he could find Lugh's smiling face at the end of this search, there's just a real of a possibility that no smile can be found. Only traces of what was.

But there's no turning back. He's made this promise.

And if anyone has to find that harsh truth first, Hugh wants to be the one to shoulder, above all else.

[nabataprophet]

The uncertainty is infinitely worse.

It had gnawed at them ever since they escaped the Goddess' maw, only to hurtle headlong into the flames, only to be faced with even more uncertainty than what they had left behind in the name of trying to protect it; Garreg Mach burned, and Garreg Mach fell, and they still don't know who lies under its rubble and who else lies dead in the mountains' bowels.

Here, in this stuffy, dank shelter, Sophia doesn't number among them.

And neither does Chad. They shout her name as soon as they catch sight of that curtain of lavender, stumbling towards her, haggard and worn and exhausted, awash with relief and drowned in icy guilt for leaving everyone behind.

Maybe it wasn't their fault. They couldn't have possibly known. Their body wouldn't have made a difference on either front. But it still is eating them alive, because these things always have. A hand alights on her forearm, shifting up to examine her as they've done before.

This, all of this, is more than just a bloody handprint, and in that moment, they fucking left her. What does it matter they had everyone's best interests at heart? All their fury and fire for nothing.

"You're—" they begin, then fumble. "I'm sorry, I—" Their hands seize, freezing to not accidentally wring her along with them. Did they leave her with just as much uncertainty? The thought cuts to the bone. They don't know what to say.

"I'm s-sorry," they repeat, suddenly a shaking mantra. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Sophia had always secretly feared that one day she would fail to foresee something truly terrible would happen. In Arcadia, it had always been stressed to her that whatever she saw did not matter terribly, because this is Paradise, hidden behind a magic veil. Who would attack Paradise, when they couldn't even be sure it existed?

Until they had.

If her power had been stronger, she could have seen it coming. She could have seen it coming and then—

—then... what? What could she have done that would have changed things in any meaning way? Rushed out by herself just to get captured or die in vain out in the desert? Isn't knowing and still being unable to do anything just a different kind of helplessness?

What happened last night is the same. Even if she had known, the outcome would still be the same. They would all still be in this shelter, battered and bruised.

The sound of her name being shouted is all the warning Sophia gets before the last face she had been looking for appears. She knows they're coming this time, so she does not jump even when Chad grabs her wrist. She lets them examine her for injuries without complaint, passively allowing them to look over scrapes and nicks that are long healed over. The only blood there is her own, a dried remnant of the magic that had torn at her skin out on the field.

There is no bloody hand print on her wrist today.

This does not seem to soothe Chad any. If anything, it seems to make them feel worse and they apologize to her on loop for reasons she's not entirely sure of. Everyone else had just said or implied that they were happy to see she made it out okay and left it at that. What could they possibly have to apologize for?

You see, Sophia has another secret fear.

It is a simple irrefutable truth of her life that she will outlive all of her human friends. She accepted this truth a long time ago, back when she had only been a little bit taller than Fae. Who (what) she is necessitates a certain degree of detachment from others, a hardening of the shell around her heart to protect against the lifelong heartbreak she is destined for.

She knows this, but she is still afraid that her friends will leave this world long before they should. She is afraid that her friends will die young and that there will be nothing she can do about it. She is afraid that her friends will die and be frozen in her memories in their youth, never getting to reach adulthood. Even she will be an adult some day in the far distant future, but the same isn't true of her friends that die young.

But Chad is alive and that's all she can ask for.

Reaching for their hand, Sophia interlaces her fingers with Chad's. Her fingertips are still a little cold from casting Apocalypse multiple times in a row, but her touch is gentle. She squeezes gently.

"...It's okay."

I'm okay.

[sacaeblade]

@lycianlynx continued from here:

"...Oh."

Without realizing it, she may have just as well walked right onto a mine. The poor kid retreats, shrinking into themself, and it's clear why. He must be an orphan.

"Hmmm...if no one recognized you, you might be from one of the smaller tribes. We were pretty small, too."

Were. The past tense still stings, no matter how long it had been.

Lyn picks up a glass of water from the table to rinse the sickly sweet taste out of her mouth and the dryness that threatens to set in. She knows all too well what it that loneliness feels like; grasping at whatever you can get your hands on for a sense of connection. Something to say, "I'm not alone in this world".

She swirls the water in the glass before speaking again, voice soft."...You know, I say I'm from the Lorca Tribe, but I'm actually the only one left. And I didn't even know until after she was gone, but my mother was a Lycian noble who had eloped to be with my father. I carry both the blood of my mother and my father proudly; that way it feels like they're both always watching me."

Lyn offers a smile to the boy.

"You're pretty quiet, aren't you? You definitely must be Sacaen, then. Most of the Sacaen guys I know don't talk very much." A certain fellow named Guy excluded. "My father was the same way."

[higaneion]

[ bullet ] [ arrow ] sender takes an arrow for receiver

Embroiled in another war. When would it end, when could she finally put her weapon down and use her powers for peace instead of fighting those she’s reluctant to call foes?

“Lady Lilina!” A voice calls out to her, warbled in her senses. 

It was too late. 

She heard the thwap of the arrow, then another as a groan escaped from the target. She slowly turns, afraid of the devastation to come. She knew that voice well. 

As they began to plummet, she held out her arms to catch them, gently kneeling down to the ground as she lowered them both. Stunned by their face grimaced in pain. Two arrows in critical spots, an alarming amount of blood had already soaked through clothes. Was there nothing she could do?

“Ch…Chad…” she whimpers between strangled tears. “You’re… you’re going to be okay…” she sniffs. They both knew it was a lie. 

Her hands search for a place to touch, she settles on stroking the tufts of blond hair. It was no use for her to try to remove the arrows, she didn’t want to send them into pain as they left this world. Oh, when did her body start to tremble?

It could have been her. Glassy blue eyes glance up. The healers were already busy with their others injured and the archer who landed two blows had been knocked down already. Damn it! Why didn’t she know any healing spells? Why did they have to engage in another bloodshed?

It should have been her. 

“Lady Lilina!” Another voice calls to her, another soldier, another friend to warn her and guard her. The battle was a ways from being finished, she couldn’t mourn now lest all her friends fall by her groveling. 

She must stand and fight, for Chad, for all the fallen. Their blood and dirt smears on her face as she rises, determination hardening into her gaze as their body falls to the wayside. She says a quick prayer, a hope that maybe they’ll finally be at peace, resting. Maybe they’ll even reunite with their father.

Lilina conjures flame in her palms, prepared to send these restless fools back down to the embers. She must prevail in their name.

[freedomarrow]

I Cast Yeet || Leonardo & Chad

@lycianlynx ; Lance +1

Though Leonardo has much less experience with the spear than with a sword and obviously the bow, he has wielded it a number of times in his school days. With Wyvern Knights among some of Daein’s most important and elite forces, it was normal and expected for everyone to at least try out training in the direction of joining the flying regiment, both in the ways of learning to handle and work with wyverns, and wielding the most standard weapons for their riders - the axe and, of course, the lance. The former Leonardo found himself dropping quite quickly, but the spear was not the worst weapon he had ever had in his hands.

Even then, however, he had only attempted to use the spear for its intended purpose - stabbing targets. He had known of pole vaulting as a method of crossing swamps, with the Shifu Swamps providing the soldiers stationed in the area with more than ample experience, the deep and sticky bogs quick to punish imperfect attempts with an immediate risk to life. But that would usually be done using, well, a pole. A lance is going to be a first.

He finds himself with neither a choice nor time to practice, though. The Remire Village, well and truly separated from the world by the massive rains and the forest paths turned into muddy bogs as a result, needs supplies delivered as soon as possible; and with the horses refusing to take a single step into the mess, the swamp must be traversed on foot.

It is not long before the soldier marching in front of him takes a careless step that results in him sinking into it almost up to his waist; an annoyed “damn it” follows, but with the heavy and thick mud refusing to let go of him, he has no choice but to make it through that way. Leonardo stops, waiting for the man to pass, reluctantly eyeing the murky depth. Once it is safe to try, he inhales, shares a look with the other student who came along for the mission as well - Chad, his name was, he believes - before sticking the lance in until it hits the bottom. He weighs and balances it in his hands for a moment, before taking the risk—

the spear luckily takes on the unusual task well, carrying effortlessly his weight across the muddy water.

Whew.

Once on the other side, he stops and turns around, waiting for the other student to cross. “It’s not too bad, but you need to judge the distance well,” he warns. He has no idea how much experience Chad has with spears, let alone using them for this.

[ostianshadow]

beep.

Send beep for a: 1. funny text

[sent 7:23pm] Ha! Check out this text I just got from some spammer[sent 7:23pm] [sent 7:24pm] Isn’t it great?[sent 7:25pm] …you should try it on that redhead you hang out with LOLThe thought made Matthew chuckle. He spun his pen between dexterous fingers, then stopped to readjust his glasses before sending one last text.

[sent 7:25pm] Anyway I should be home sooner than I thought tonight, just about wrapped up here, so see you soon chadster

[sweetest-thief]

beep?

26. A hyper text

[Sent 7:53 PM] SPIKEY WTF[Sent 7:53 PM] WAS TAT COOCKIES U GAVE ME OR COCCAIN E[Sent 7:53 PM] I FEEL SO ALIV AHAHAHAHA[Sent 7:54 PM] RUN WIT ME

Gaius was later seen turning several cartwheels on his front yard before his sugar high crashed and he fell asleep on his porch.