purgatorium
sword +1 starter for @arcstral
SHE CAN FEEL THE VENGEANCE IN ITS VINES— the way it seemed to wish to consume her, to cleanse the stain she wrought upon its space and to take her for itself. Tiki huffs as she cuts another swirling tendril loose from her ankle, the sharpness of her nails snapping it away like a stray thread. But these fibers would not be eliminated so carelessly. Not if they wished to cut away enough of them. Indeed, she and the Hero-King had been trekking this space for quite some time now, searching valiantly for some way to clear it. While she is certain that Marth had no shortage of experience cleaving through such obstacles, the problem lies in the fact that they stand in this overgrowth. The purgatorial labyrinth provides no point of vantage for them; they have nothing but their blades and each other against the living mass of vinery.
But if Tiki has her Mar-Mar, she's certain they can be enough. They will be enough. For why did fate grant unto her this blooming divinity, if she could not use it to support those she cherished most? She owed the Hero-King personally, besides, and sees no better opportunity to repay her debt than to aid him in this mission.
Leaves crunch; another vine is split into twain with a sharp tug of Tiki's leg. She finds herself unconsciously marching on ahead, marking a path for Marth behind her by treading upon it first. She is careful to turn back at him whenever she can, well-timed flicks of her head ensuring that there is never a moment where they are too far apart. Alas, looks cannot stop the fury of ancients scorned, and a particularly rough-sounding snap causes Tiki to nearly lose herself in alarm.
"Mar-Mar!"
She rushes to his half-fallen side, hands aquiver with all the nerves of a hatchling bird. She can see it; the redness quickly blooming on his knee, and the crimson-marked vine that had caused it. Curse the fragility of man! Curse the fragility of her own heart! Tiki's gaze grows wild, and for a moment, she feels herself to be a young manakete again; lost and helpless and clueless in the face of the world. But as swiftly as she forgets, she manages to let herself remember— SHE IS THAT CHILD NO MORE. She knows her power and she knows how to use it. It would do no one good were she to lose it to her emotions.
"I'm sorry— I haven't been looking after you," Tiki kneels by his side, her voice frightfully small, "But allow me to do what I can to aid you, now. Tell me: you've not… broken anything, have you?"