# 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 — closed & affiliated fu hua of honkai impact 3rd by duncan ... [ © ]

Janaina Medeiros
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Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

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# 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 — closed & affiliated fu hua of honkai impact 3rd by duncan ... [ © ]
ill make an archon out of you
FU HUA IS A GOOD TEACHER. ✧ over time, she's encountered many——both excellent and exceedingly mediocre——but the other woman's critique is direct and easy to follow, while not unkind. dramatic flair. that was the kind of thing suited for the stage, she understood this ; and yet, she knew no other way. watching the duelists had never been any particular love of hers ; she was aware of clorinde's skill largely by association. so she shouldn't turn? is that what fu hua was trying to tell her? furina's grip tightens on the end of the bamboo stick, trying to imagine what else she could have done.
the rest of the assessment passes by in the sweep of a critical eye, furina remaining silent and still as she takes it in and allows for the scrutiny. only the minute changes in her facial expression give away indication of her thoughts: a regimen or system. . . not other than the habitual things she did to watch her weight. . . she supposes she really could use some more exercise, though. all things considered, she should probably be grateful her athleticism was even deemed ' passable '. maybe fu hua was only being gracious.
but it's the last words she speaks that draw furina's attention back to her with wider eyes.
because we have something left to lose.
blue gaze follows the woman's stance, try to imagine herself mirroring it on her own. the thought already feels foolish. "my resolve. . . " the idea of protecting——did she have something to place there? what was her resolve? back in that strange perhaps-not-a-dream, she had fought because she'd had to, not to protect anything, at least not anything more precious than her own life. but the others hadn't been like that ; they'd been centered, in-control, not panicked and flailing desperately. she'd assumed it was because they simply had a wealth of experience——but was it because of a resolve that she lacked? was that what made them so seemingly strong?
it didn't sound quite realistic, but then she shouldn't just stand here thinking about it. still: "i'm afraid i might disappoint you," she says with a shake of her head as she takes two steps back and readies herself to try and strike again. resolve, resolve. wherefore art thou, resolve? what was it she wanted to protect. . . fontaine? only loosely, in a manner of speaking. herself? the arts, the articulation of human emotion and life? the truth at the very root of things, that came from experiences ordinary people had each and every day? these are all too abstract to give strength to her arm.
but she tries, anyway. "hh—yah! eyah!" focusing on trying to unearth some origin of her strength, she forgets the temper the wide-arcing drama of her swings, assertive and full with forward motion ; in fact, as she swipes the reed through the air in long, downward slashes, each one seems more flourished than the last as she identifies and tries to hold onto that passion close to her breast, the closest thing she supposes she has to such a fighting spirit——for righteousness, for expression, for feeling.
"You could never disappoint me. Just try," ideally not to disappoint her, but to find that drive. A foot sweeps back, preparing for the assault that Furina may put forth this time. Even that first swing, though doubtful and far from perfect, has a renewed sense of motivation. This will do. The first strike is narrowly sidestepped, each movement from the phoenix graceful calculated. It not the speed she displayed before because it was not needed. "Shorter swings. If you want to hit me, a strike like that only leaves you defenseless," she calls out. "Stay in the moment, keep your eyes on me, never take them off me."
Such words had been uttered countless times before, at the peak of Mount Taixuan. Even before then, training in the facilities of the Previous Era, such exercises could hardly compare to the past. A relic of a time long ago, she wrote the history that many had come to forget. Whether the screams she cried was worth the blood she'd given, whether the world was truly worthy of such her sacrifice. Another step, this time backwards. Bringing up a girl who could hardly defend herself, there is something nostalgic, watching those cogs slowly turn, deciphering and remembering each word spoken.
Perhaps it would be too overwhelming to keep talking. Instead, actions speak between the both of them. Each swing of her blade is avoided, as if dancing upon the wind, wings guide the firebird away. Beginning to circle Furina, she monitors reaction time, how she adjusts, taking more aggressive steps forward just to test how she may buckle under rougher waters. For one as ostentatious as herself, Furina's confidence seemed to be a facade, nothing more than a show. Fu Hua cannot draw conclusions, yet even just the technique with which she swung her sword carries stories untold. There is something relatable in that. History lasts because they've walked it.
This spar eventually does come to an end, a hand raising to catch the shoot of bamboo on another downward swing. "Still needs improving..." she starts, "but better." Releasing the makeshift weapon, hands prop themselves upon her hips. "Do you need a break. I can make us some tea?" Perhaps an indirect approach would create a more capable fighter than commands being given. "You seem troubled. It's hard to tell if you are trying to hit me or simply trying not to make a fool of yourself." More blunt than before, she does ponder how likely Furina is to share her true thoughts."
「 ♆ 」 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴
abundance commission [ mydei | fu hua ]
‘Turn back or perish.’
He couldn’t help but be struck by the absurd thought that this was supposed to be his line to say. Was the woman wreathed in flame not an intruder here herself? Her manner of walk and speech suggested that she was not a simple citizen either, but someone meant to tread loftier spaces.
If only he had a penchant for negotiation, he might be able to put his thoughts together in time to ask for more. He didn’t. He never had before, anyway, allowing scorching flame to dissipate as he lifted his arms to block it. Even with strife’s protection, it still scorched, still radiated pain as his gauntlets boiled with it.
Determined, Mydei caught her blows with the same fierceness, teeth grit as flame brought sweat beading along his skin. The smell of blood and burning flesh clouded his lungs with every inhale as they traded blows, realizing only belatedly that it was her whose skin peeled and melted, reformed before his eyes. Eyes wide with shock, Mydei’s pushed her back with a roar, fist slamming into the ground between them as Strife splintered stone with dozens of protruding crystals racing toward her feet.
In the past, Mydei could be accused of allowing fights to go on for too long. Friendly spars that ended when one collapsed. This was not his doing. He couldn’t stop her, so evenly matched that their fight raged for hours in the blink of an eye. Her regeneration versus his own, but even then, some injuries were set to kill. “I cannot die,” He started, another attempt at words where his fists were clenched and ready to resume in direct opposition. “You waste your efforts, Firebird. If you truly know nothing of our enemies, then cease your madness.”
Those jagged stones force a retreat, backstepping with intent, yet not quite quick enough to avoid them all together. Digging into calves and thighs, she grits her teeth, grunting through the pain. Fu Hua is quick to throw a punch and shatter the more potentially fatal crystals. Though still, two quick thrusts of her arm down free legs. Blood would sizzle, bubbling as muscle and sinew grew back quickly. Burnt skin regenerated over the wounds, smoothing over as she stepped back further, the only remnants after barely a minute being the holes left in her boots.
Neither grew tired, neither knew when to stop, trading blows that would kill most others with the intensity of two suns crashing into one another. Any monster that may try and intervene is burnt away before they can even make contact. Yet he is the first to stop when the potential of an advantage presents itself. 'Madness?' The word echoes through her head for a moment, a perplexed look finally breaking through her battle ready demeanor. She was not mad. Though she did strike first. Right?
On her guard, she would relent, listening instead of taking the opportunity to strike. "I cannot die either, unfortunately." Such a delivery might've been funnier under different circumstances. The Phoenix stills herself, perched upon one leg, ready to strike or dash. The Black Reaver and Black Tide, those must be the enemies he speaks of. She has questions, of who they are and why they oppose each other.
"Tell me, where am I? And who are you? If you are willing to lay down your..." A pause. "To hold your blows, then I will as well." Lowering her leg to stand evenly, palms slowly opening towards the Last Prince, presenting the possibility of a truce. Though it seems they are getting somewhere, a quick glance around would show they are far from safety. Eyes flicker between him and their surroundings for that reason.
this edible ain't shi-
Different?
She could not answer this honestly, could not find the words to describe the sensation that she felt - that it was something that she always carried with her, the bite and fray of restraint against her skin, gently unraveling with time, that the wrap of the infinite darkness of the sky continued to tuck itself around her like a child's blanket, suffocating every cold clammy breath to the back of her throat.
She felt hunted. That was the word. The heaviness that descended upon her was fraught with foul intent, thick and miasmic as if it might intimidate her to lay down and die where she was. Shenhe had felt all this before, felt it every day of her life, and it raised her hackles, but instead of a word in response, she could only let out a low sound from the back of her throat, almost a groan, almost a hiss.
The piece of candy was still in her mouth, disintegrating on her tongue with its too-sweet flavor sinking into every corner of her, tingeing the dark to a more vibrant color of hate until it buzzed against the back of her eyes and brought her heartbeat nearly out of her chest, pattering a furious tattoo against her bones.
She stood, but the weight pressed her down once more, and she gripped a fist at her side, the half-moon pricks of her nails against her palm enough to draw tiny drops of blood to drop onto the pavement, but rather than ground her, the focus of the pain merely made her bare her teeth in challenge.
"I do not know what thinks to take me here, but I cannot let it succeed," she ground out, the shape of the young woman beside her only faint and blurry in the darkness - but she could still see her, for now.
Hands are examined, front and back. Something about this moment is surreal, as if the skin she wore bore heavier burdens than what it should. They come to her cheeks, dragging down against smoothness. Fu Hua could feel herself, yet something was amiss. Her composure hardly changed, at least compared to that of the other. Memories were foggier, yet she knew she still had them. The memory of a memory, like a painting that'd been rubbed out, hazy, blurry.
Her own attention is drawn to the woman whose composure has degraded drastically in comparison. From the terrible groans to the pooling blood, she wants to reach out, yet something stops her. A twinge in nerve, so familiar yet equally as out of place.
"Take you where?" She asks softly, trying to decipher what the other means. "Let what succeed?" Scooting a little closer, she wants to help, yet feels lost as to what she can offer. Perhaps it is best to let whatever this is ride itself out.
Still, the distress of the other is enough to brush that thought to its side. Eventually, she musters up the courage to place a hand upon Shenhe's shoulder. "Perhaps lay down? I know a bench isn't an ideal place to rest, but it might help?" She is quick to stand up, offering more of the bench towards the one experiencing the worst of their trips, dashing away even the possibility of letting Shenhe rest her head upon her lap.
"Just... try to relax as best you can."
I'll be Gone
Continuation from here
The dip catches her entirely by Surprise, spring-lit eyes widening into globes as she feels her Weight lifted off her feet. A cherry hue takes over her cheeks, and cherub wings go to shyly cover the lower half of her face. No, Fu Hua could never overstep—she has gone past the Limit of such boundaries. There is Much she knows about the songstress—of course, there is yet still she does Not—yet further still, it was Mountains more than what others could Hope to breach.
"No, no..." Robin says, Breathless, shivering into Fu Hua's touch, "You're perfectly fine. Let's keep dancing like this, Miss Fu Hua."
I love it, she almost admits. Almost. Though perhaps the near-Radiant glow of her expression and the Tenderness of her lip's curl is enough to speak those words aloud.
The music continues—the pair of birds, too, continue to Waltz about, swaying to the same lilt that guided violins and piano. Though they brush backs and elbows with the other dancers, Robin finds all of her Senses lingering solely on Fu Hua. The world could Collapse this very moment and the songbird might not notice. These were the sorts of things that people born in a Dream should know to avoid—that Enamoration—that Drunkeness.
She indulges anyway. In this Enamor, in Fu Hua. There is something about the golden lights of the Empyrean that seems to encourage her Want.
It is Robin's turn now to lead, both their pas de deux and their conversation. Her hands shift slightly, Pulling and Pulling until Fu Hua stands a bit closer to her.
"Thank you for dancing with me, by the way. I'm glad I got to see you again. We've both learned a lot since we last met, it seems. Sometimes it's best to accept what we can no longer have, isn't it?" Robin hums. Though she continues to smile, there is a Softness to her voice that implies Longing—a hint of Bitterness amidst the Dream. "Still, I hope you haven't felt terribly lonely. I know well how such a journey can be isolating..."
Such an abashed reaction makes the poor girl stutter, worrying immediately after she is hoisted back up. Ways to apologize begin to flitter through her mind. Showing off was not Fu Hua's strong suit, and this is proof of such beliefs. Of course, why would Robin want another so spontaneous that they might draw the attention of each set of eyes that surrounded them? She was disguised for a reason, after all.
Worries vanish as quickly as they'd invaded her thoughts, the Songbird's reassurance, but even more, her desire to keep going, is enough to pry Fu Hua from such nonsensical whims. Eyes flicker, the throes of passion and Hope guiding her next steps. As Robin leads, the Phoenix would match each step. For every time they parted, their wings spread, and as they came back, the embrace was that much warmer.
Their dance is to take flight, in skies more suited for souls yearning to be free. Their dance is to soar, their touch is to climb higher, as two birds seek to test the strength of their wings. Digits graze lower, ignoring the warnings to feel the heat of the sun upon feathered backs, for they are not made of wax. "I'll dance for as long as you'll have me, Robin." This hubris is a dive, one filled with more lifts, dips, pirouettes, and whatever other tests the Songbird may offer to the Phoenix. It should come as no surprise that the Phoenix would relent in such a spiral first, afraid of the vast ocean that rested beneath their freefall.
Standing there, hand threatening to deep even lower than the hip it rested upon, there is restraint. "I've never been the best at it, but I'd say I've had some good teachers." A low giggle, girlish and sweet, nestling her cheek to the top of the other's head. "But you are right. I wanted the, I don't know, satisfaction? Closure? Relief of knowing that I had done enough from those that lost their chance to see it. But how much does it really matter? Proving my worth to skeletons in the closet I'd befriended a lifetime ago."
A few more steps and a half spin, bringing Robin's back to her chest. Fingers would interlace, extended out to their right while the other graciously rested upon the lining of her waist. Whether still for the sake of dancing, or something more bold, even Fu Hua doesn't know what inspired such openness. "You sounded as if you had more to say? Or... would you just like to keep dancing?"
When your body perishes, does your prayer disappear as well?
With Fu Hua, a warm Hollow had been carved into the cold of the Crowd. Robin found herself Nestled beside her—a Bird returning to its beloved Tree—at all times, even during the Moments where all the Others had coveted her attention. Whispers—Waltzes—Hums of all sorts. She had heard these Noises even before they boarded the ship, saw those wandering eyes sharpen like knives when they landed their gaze on her, but the songstress believed wholely that she could Triumph above them with Fu Hua by her side.
Her Trust was rewarded. Though many seemed Keen to spring themselves upon her, none had wanted to cross the Phoenix's boundary.
"Haha, yeah," her laugh was sung sweetly, "I usually travel with an entourage of security to keep safe but, in this instance, I think being with you is enough."
More than Enough, she wished to say, though in her Heart of Hearts—in the Soul of her Soul—she felt that Fu Hua must have already known that. It showed plainly in her eyes, how they brimmed with emerald Adoration. It showed in the private curl of her lip, reserved only for the Chaser of Flame, in this cradle of Warmth they shared̉—away from the Crowd, away from the Noise. I These were the sorts of quiet medals she awarded those she cherished, and she had plenty more to pin onto Fu Hua's lapel.
The rest of their traveling group filtered out the door, leaving as steadily as a river's rapids ran down a forest—until it was only the two of them left. Robin glanced towards the ship door, and the ramp that ran down towards the planet's blackened ground. She wondered what lay beyond the walls of this ship, what Waited in this expanse of Unknown. There was only one way to find out.
A gloved hand took Fu Hua's. A flick of Robin's head redirected her eyes towards her—Only her.
"And there's no need to thank me. You know I'm always happy being with you." Her hand squeezed, "Now, let's follow the others out. I wonder what this place has in store for us..."
They took that first step, fledgling Birds finding footing atop their talons. In the distance, the Others in their group had already taken the plunge, curiously wandering about the loamy flatland until they disappeared into the far-flung horizon. Robin found her hand still in tight Embrace with Fu Hua's.
"Ah, It's a bit foggy here…" she squinted, her wings folding into the sides of her neck, "let's move carefully. I would hate to see you fall."
Fingers interlace for but a moment, eyes cold as they stare upon the stone walkway before them. A hope, yet not a promise. Steps felt heavy as heels would clink against the metal ramp. Frozen, Fu Hua questions, what does this matter? How long had it been since she had lost them the first time, and would finding them change anything? They were a part of her story, but were they part of her destiny? Her future? She must ask herself, what is she even searching for now? Closure had come and gone. Protecting them did nothing now.
Perhaps it was to make amends for how powerless she once was. To show that she was no longer the girl of the Previous Era.
She almost began to wish that this would be fruitless, though such words do not escape her. "I won't fall," she whispers, taking the lead in that moment.
With renewed confidence, one step forth, then another. Making her way down the ramp, there would already be fellow adventurers and explorers making a base camp at the landing zone. The goal of this expedition was to discover, after all. The fog would be illuminated by lanterns and glowsticks of green and blues, chatter from the outlines amidst the fog. Nearing one adventurer, the prestige of either girl is nonexistent.
While one group worked on camp, another would venture forth, making ground and connecting this camp to one they might establish further along. Once they begin, Fu Hua keeps quiet for the beginning of their journey, simply fixated upon the ground she would walk. Hand still held tightly, questions still tug at her. Like whether it was a worthwhile trade to give all of her tomorrows for the prospect of yesterday. Or whether they be taken away again, just so that fate could enjoy the sweetest satisfaction of agony upon the Phoenix's face.
Blinking, eyes would finally afford her companion a glance, yet her head still hung, unable to pry away from such thoughts. It was unfair to Robin, being so lost while leading.
Lips curl upwards, even if too gentle to really be genuine, is a symbol of strength. No matter what may come, it will be enough. It will be enough.
Or so Fu Hua keeps telling herself.
"You know, these people I'm searching for, when I lost them, I was... so convinced I would never be able to move on, to let go. That I would have something left inside my chest after I'd accepted they were gone. I spent so long alone, that I had even forgotten what the sensation of another's touch was like." She talks to just fill the silence now, even if she may have already told the songbird such already. "It's sobering." It was sobering when Kiana threatened her, pulled her from the brink once before, yet this time was no different. Only instead of a punch, hope came from the idly beauty of the songstress' voice. "Such feels were so long ago, yet in this moment I can remember them so clearly."
「 ♆ 」 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴
abundance commission [ mydei | fu hua ]
Opportunities like this are few and far in between.
The realization isn’t lost on him, that he once courted battle with every step forward, looked to his equals and his mentors and imagined that life would always be as exhilarating. Fighting titankin, the monotonous drone of mad soldiers was not the kind of glory he had envisioned for himself even then. It makes her a beacon. Figuratively. Literally. Though as he clenches his teeth and focuses on following her movement as she evades him, he is too far gone to think about it clearly.
Most trained soldiers don’t have this type of grace. Can’t manage even a fraction of the same skill when faced with the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos. King, now, though he brushes the thought away. Words and titles never served him all that well anyway, and they aren’t going to start now.
If anything, the distraction nearly kills him.
With strikes too quick to see, he evades by the luck of his reflexes, searing heat washing across his skin. Is she a demigod? She can’t be, who else would possess fire like this, if not Aquila, the sky titan? Frustrated, he lunges, catching her by flaming calf only so he can lean in and look more closely. Flames sear the metal of his gauntlet, scalding the skin underneath as if he had reason to touch a hot pan.
…She looks like a demigod.
Vibrant and so much more alive than anything he has seen in what feels like ages. “Haven’t had a fight like this in ages,” He says, summoning his strength and shoving her away when the blistering fire forces him too. He can feel the damage done to his right arm, stinging and slower than before. “The Flame Reaver wasn’t enough, huh. If the Black Tide is finally amassing new soldiers,” She looks like a demigod, but maybe…maybe he has finally gone mad. “Then you’ll meet your end here, like all the others.”
It wasn’t his time to die, anyway, and that was looking like the only other option.
He certainly sounds crazy to the Phoenix. The Flame Reaver? The Black Tide? She can hear it but she can not comprehend what he means. Silent initially, him speaking is certainly a step in the right direction. The previous hordes of mindless foes must be led by this man. And at the very least, he simultaneously looks more important than every other opponent she's fought. That was usually a sign she was going in the right direction.
Her thoughts are interrupted by his attempt to gain distance. His strength is respectable, and while her landing is a far from the same grace she exhibited normally, hands come to spring herself up, legs sweeping out, protecting her from any potential attack he may send to follow through afterwards. Her back aches after such an impact, though such pain becomes lost shortly after.
Poised once more, an open palm is presented, readying herself for what may come next. "I know of no Black Reaver nor Black Tide," her other arm flicks back, a ball of flame manifesting against the hand furthest from him. "But I will not die here. Turn back, or perish." Patience, awaiting for his retreat so that she could venture forth once more. Fu Hua is unsure of how she even came to be here, yet if the way out is to be paved in the blood of monsters or mindless puppets, then she shall shatter their very body and sever their thread.
Yet he is not one to fall back, is he? His words said enough.
Rupturing the air around ardent flames, her arm is flung forth, letting the fire ball curve up just to arc downwards. Whether it hits him or not is of little importance to her. In the time he takes to react to the fire ball, the Phoenix would crouch, quickly kicking off her new perch to soar towards him. Engulfed in flames, a fist would collide with him, quick to duck down as a boxer would, only to throw another punch his way, trying to press an advantage.
The very heat she manifested would incinerate herself, searing skin and repairing it just as quickly. The flame of the Phoenix used her very body as a furnace, burning away her very life with each blaze, just to bestow it back as if nothing were happening. Each step taken would burn imprints of her soles and heels into stone.
"Fight, or be forgotten like the rest of them."
ill make an archon out of you
AS IF BITTEN, HER HAND DRAWS BACK ✧ from fu hua's disarming strike to flap from the sting——or it would if it were not arrested what seemed like the very same instant, held in a wrought-iron grip that couldn't be called choking, but which nonetheless forbade any thought of breaking free with the unmoving certitude of a steel gate. she's struck at once by the strength of it, and is still marveling a second or two later after fu hua lets her go just as easily⠀(⠀stone disintegrated in an instant⠀)⠀; she looks down and circles her wrist back and forth in the grip of her other hand to soothe it, then back up at her erstwhile teacher at the unexpected remark.
she isn't sure whether to feel stung by it or not. was it because of her show the last time they'd met, in that dream, that fu hua didn't think her capable of confidence? she supposes her showing then had been rather pathetic, but could she really be blamed? she was unaccustomed to falling asleep and waking up somewhere entirely different from where she expected, beset by enemies from out of nowhere and compelled to fight for her own life. everyone else had seemed to take it quite in stride——was something like that ordinary for them? was she the crazy one?
at any rate, she's gotten lost in her thoughts again. "a good deal, i imagine," she answers, straightforward. "i don't presume to think i'd stand anywhere on par with how a real swordsman should have struck, or moved." taking the bamboo stick back when it's offered, she swings it absently back and forth by the wrist beside her leg as she continues, as if imagining something like proper blows. "i tried to picture someone i know, who truly duels in a ring and is known throughout fontaine as one of the best." a sigh. "i should have paid more attention back then if i'd known i'd be doing this now."
but it's a good thing fu hua is teaching her today ; she'd never dare to ask the same of clorinde, whose contract and association with her had expired at the same moment the tide had receded and the bubbles, effervescent, floated up from the seat of hydro to become nothing. for the better.
"why don't you tell me?" she poses directly. after all, she can't hope to know what she doesn't know, though she has an idea of what fu hua was trying to accomplish by asking her first. a socratic method wasn't without its merits. "was it my grip, or control, or the balance, something along those lines?"
As quick as she had commented on confidence, realism and struggle crash the once-Archon down. Wanting to offer some profound reassurance, there are no words to be found. Regret, "should have," or "could have" always come a little too late. Hindsight is never wrong.
"I just wanted to know your thoughts," offered in a neutral tone. Then, a sharp inhale followed by a drawn out sigh through the nostrils. "Dramatic flair suits you, but more often than not only shackles you in a life or death battle. When you turned," she would mimic her pirouette, pivoting on her heel at the same tempo, "You took your eyes off of me." As she finishes she takes a few steps closer to Furina, only a sword — or bamboo stick — lengths away. An index finger is raised before an intense gaze, fierce despite softer intentions in this moment. In an instant, that finger is jabbed to the other's chest. Such quick movements don't attempt to buckle Furina, but rather, "Death is an instant away. You saw me and should have been able to react to that attack. But with your back to me, you know nothing. Where I may strike, where I may move..." Turning away, "A sword to the back is not a graceful way to go." Take it from her.
"Your initial attacks were fine enough, your overall athleticism is passable. I don't know if you have a regiment or system that you stick to, but consistent training will help with your physical capabilities," more just murmuring to herself, Fu Hua faces Furina, sizing her up. A head tilt along with narrowed eyes muse upon the others initial advance. "Balance and control do need work," admitted after a moment.
Face lighting up with an idea, "Think of how props or backgrounds may be set up for theatre. When there is a wooden cut out, how must it be balanced? If just leaned against a wall or left to stand on its own, it is not very secure, no?" Legs come to be shoulder width apart. "This doesn't offer any resistance when being attacked. You'll be pushed over, buckled or broken with enough pressure." Heel sweeping back against stone tiles, dust kicks up ever so slightly. Hands positioned between the two, palms left open. A familiar stance from their shared dream. "When positioned like this, you can not only brace for your opponent's offense, but also improve your own strength."
One thing the Phoenix did not miss from her days as the Empyrean was how much talking she did. Furina was unlike her previous students. A spark within them, the desire to protect that which they loved and maim that which caused them so much grief. Soldiers forged of a cruel world. "Everything you hold tight, there is only one thing we can do to protect that. There is nothing to prove on the battlefield, yet we fight until the end, because we all have something left to lose." Beckoning the other forward, she challenges, "Come at me again. I want to feel your resolve, Furina."
I'll be Gone
Continuation from here
The world would stand still as those few steps sweep the Phoenix from her perch. In them, Origin, whisking her forth to some spectacle they had seen dozens of times before; Finality, snatching her wrist as one could only yearn from the shattered dreams of the past. Unfettered passion falls in unison with Robin, supporting the palm upon her shoulder with an arm hooked beneath, hand seeking purchase upon the small of Robin's back. The other, chaste upon Robin's own shoulder. Her own element is found in tow of another's own dance, marching to the beat of their drum rather than her own.
The world steadily melts around them, those yellow and white hues reflecting and glistening, blending into a forgettable backdrop. The murmurs of the crowd, too bothered to find either of them interesting enough to watch, drowned out by the deafening whispers, remembrance of how close they are. Up each vertebrae, tension seeps into her body, hyper aware of every single sensation that comes in the comfort of another. Eyes dart down, having to find comfort in the steadiness of their steps so as to not trip. Minutes feel lost as they take no risk.
Barely a moment passes before posture is made perfect, a sigh escaping once the rhythm can be followed with less thought. "I doubt my journey will ever find its destination. But," hesitation, Fu Hua finding no place she'd rather be than enraptured in her songbird's wings. "I am in no rush. Not anymore."
Each step is held back, even the first words spoken between them. An island, on her own. This was not the life she would have wanted. Resignation as hands adjust—shoulder down to hip, lower back to upper back. "I'm going to dip you," she suddenly offers. Spoken as if not so sure herself, there is little time to object before Robin is thrust into such a move. How many dances had she been forced to lead in those cold halls during every holiday party they shared?
Eyes resolute, determined in taking that step forward, Robin is cast down. The arm upon her back glides carefully, supporting with ease whilst the other follows suit. Hip to thigh, clutched a little too tightly, nerve getting the better of her for the briefest moment. Still, Robin is not allowed to buckle, to even potentially risk dropping her. Eyes stay fixated upon the painted features of the others face, lips parting as a deep breath is let out. And without even a struggle, Hua brings Robin back up.
Palms return, face immediately darkening. Such brazen touch felt wrong despite how naturally it came. The monotony of simple steps returns again. "I... hope I did not overstep."
@hopetune
Without You
When the mad around began to take its toll, all those who chased the flame could do was carry on.
She was of the first to fall, the first to be lost to the insanity of the Honkai, brought down by her desire to save one more dear than the soldiers she fought alongside.
Fu Hua was not surprised by the outcome, yet it pains her to admit. They walked a long, dark, winding road, leading them only to the despair they sought to destroy. For a moth, to touch the sun was the precipice of bliss, the most fulfilling elation, even when wing and bristle kindle, torched by the heat desired so. There was no satisfaction in standing atop the broken bones those that died to get here. The Phoenix could promise that much.
All one could do was carry on.
Escaping with no where to go, days past were spent wondering if a sweeter mercy awaited her in the previous era. Waiting for false promises, gazing up into the night sky, so far below where the night skies surge and swirl into the vast expanses of the ocean that perhaps a swim may guide her to places only found in her dreams.
It was in the sea amongst the incandescent systems where heat meets passion. Where promises became fulfilled, where all that had been lost slowly came back, dragging the Phoenix back to what has already come and gone. The previous era could never be again, no matter how many familiar faces she found. Like reflections trapped in time, she was the only one who still kept going. None of them knew what it was like to carry one.
Well, perhaps a couple of them did still.
This weight was not one to bear alone, but it still came as habit, even when another would emerge from the sands of time, buried no longer. Such is the nature of her path. Gazing back over her shoulder, arms crossed and leaned upon the metal railing of the resort.
"Sakura," words fall from lips, a mixture of love and strife. Her head turns away, peering off over the edge of this balcony they found themselves on. "You're here too." A subtle gust ruffles loose hairs and lighter fabrics. "I had heard rumors, of someone like yourself being here. It's not the only reason I came but," the sentence peters out, not needing justification. "Do you have time? To catch up?"
@transientbloom
[WAVE POOL] / "it's rather like walking on a moving road, if you can imagine," she explains, attention staying focused on the unsteady surface beneath her feet. to most others, it's a sight that deceives the eyes: limpid waters roiling in rhythmic tosses——solid? yet solid they are to her step ; obedient they are, a star-touched sparkle rising where sole meets wave in a soft ripple as though the water were tamed enough to crystallize just where it kisses her shoe and no other, liquid translucent again the moment her step departs.
like this, she skips and strides over wavetip after wavetip——at times broadly with thespian purpose, at times a dainty touch, fairy-light, at times with an effortless twirl to right her balance. each unruly peak is a dance partner, made smooth and cooperative by her movements, the way she anticipates each predestined beat and places her foot just so to complement it, before spinning into the next one that seeks her attention.
at some point she had begun to hum, an orchestral little melody keeping time, losing herself for a handful of seconds——five, maybe, or a little more——in the swish and sway, the give and take.
until, as the waves finally begin to ebb and cease, she comes to an elegant, looping finish at the center of the pool, sloshing waters calming where they teeter around her. it's not quite a dance ; there were no steps, no choreography, but still she hangs one arm low across her chest in a bow, and smiles again as she straightens. "it would be easy to teach you, if only you could walk on water too. i'm sure you'd have no trouble grasping the basics."
Though glaring issues present with each step her companion took, inhibitions became lost in her elegance, ever-shifting upon artificial tides. For one that seemed impossibly conscious of each twitch her body made, such a brilliant display of her powers and skill could not find purchase to shackle her. If the gazes she drew could not follow her to the dancefloor of the waves and stars scattering amongst constant motion, then not even the abyss could fade her light. Days without regret, unforgettable and unfinished.
Fantastical power could erupt from the Phoenix on a whim, purely by willing it into existence. 50,000 years of combat entrenched into every muscle, from breaths drawn in to the bend of a finger, the tempo of a very different theater could not match the pace Furina thrived in.
Yet it is watching the Archon now that it would dawn upon her. Her search for the lost and the damned led her countless steps from home, yet she had learned nothing in the shadow that loomed. Losing herself just to find Fu Hua again. So many paces from whence she had come, with too many more to reach her destination. A lesson learnt once but forgotten all the same. Whether in the shape of a songbird or a droplet, there was more than the obsession of the past. "Furina," she calls out, walking along the side of the pool, concern tugging at pursed lips.
"Furina!" Finally, as the woman came to bow, a simple applause, though it seemed only she had appreciation for hijacking the main attraction. "I can't walk on water, but why don't you teach me how to do that on what I can walk on," she hollers. It's as if she is talking to Sentience without the irritation that came with. A beckoning motion to hopefully get her back on land. "You've quite the flair for performance. I can see how you infatuated your fan when they were more common," a look over her shoulder, the gala's lights emanating bright. "I'm not the best dancer but... I'm willing to learn, if you'd have me?" A gloved hand extends, face still conveying that inkling of uncertainty.
[S’MORES] - Let it be known that his cooking skills have improved since Kiana was a child, and yet S'mores is the only thing he can trust himself with at the current moment in time. Thankfully, supplies for the savoury snack, and the fire on which to toast them are in large supply, enough so that he feels comfortable in waving Fu Hua to sit as she passes by.
"Come'ere Kiddo!" Well, he supposes she's not a Kiddo, but she went to St. Freya for long enough that he feels content classifying her as one despite... everything. "I'm not sure how long these have been around, but you can never go wrong with a S'more by a campfire." He's relaxed, letting himself almost sink into the log as he pats the space beside him. "I promise, there won't be any of my... worse food incidents repeating, what're ya waiting for?"
A glance to either side of the girl, wondering if the older man was truly waving her down. When doubt disperses, she approaches calmly, lingering over him, peering into the fire quietly. "Kiddo..." she repeats, keeping from offering her true age in retaliation. Carefully stepping over the log, she takes a seat, leaning forward to press chest to knees. It certainly wasn't the most conventional duo.
"I know this may be difficult to believe, but I trust you not to ruin a s'more. Unless you were to try and cook the graham cracker," a snicker at the thought. Of all the people that might try to make a s'more then roast it, it would be Siegfried. Still, she would reach for one of the sticks, quick to skewer a marshmallow and let it rest over the open flame, far enough away that even the gentle hues of golden-brown crispness evade the sweet. Part of her own fun came from making the treat herself.
"I'm glad to see you're well. You've noticed it too? The familiar faces of the past still lingering in our doorways." She supposes he is one of them. All the shock was gone, though she much preferred this to the heartache her older friends caused. After a minute or so, the marshmallow is drawn back and examined, before bitten into. Gooey and soft, it's yoinked off the stick, only for another to take its place. "It's not just this planet, it's everywhere. No corner of the universe spares us."
i feel like a narc posting back to back on both accounts but i digress. fu hua wont be attending lore but will also be floating around empyrea. shell be accepting asks and definitely taking threads at the moment.
i also wanna use this post to apologize for how quiet things have been. motivation has been a killer but im looking to get back into the swing of things this month to have a banger event and make some new connections and memories! i plan on sending out asks across the next week and am very much looking forward to some of these prompts. lina and mik really killed it here.
pissed at myself for forgetting but fu hua will be wearing this as well
i feel like a narc posting back to back on both accounts but i digress. fu hua wont be attending lore but will also be floating around empyrea. shell be accepting asks and definitely taking threads at the moment.
i also wanna use this post to apologize for how quiet things have been. motivation has been a killer but im looking to get back into the swing of things this month to have a banger event and make some new connections and memories! i plan on sending out asks across the next week and am very much looking forward to some of these prompts. lina and mik really killed it here.
this edible ain't shi-
It was undeniable that Shenhe was lost in this city, on this planet, in a way that was irreconcilable with the manner in which she normally comported herself. To start, she could not determine where city and planet separated, knowing that one was nestled within the others but finding the whole manner of thing to be so overwhelming in both enormity and conciseness of intent, yet even within that she could not discern where the boundaries were.
And for Shenhe, boundaries were what she had learned to narrow her focus on, that attempt to find herself integrated with the humans around her and to understand them, and that periphery of her own self-awareness, to understand the bind of ropes against her spirit, to know where they ended and she began, and what they hoped to contain.
That is to say, the lights were too much, and the streets wound themselves in a manner she found offputting, so taking the guiding hand of another foreigner, one who yet felt familiar in a way that Shenhe could not pinpoint exactly, was a welcome focal point.
The woman seemed self-assured, almost as though this were something that she did regularly, and even stopped to buy them both candy along the way, like one would do for a lost child.
Popping the piece inside of her mouth, Shenhe's first thought that her palate was improving, for she was able to identify the sweetener as treacle.
Her second thought was not so easy to parse, as the darkness suddenly descended upon her, enveloping her in a cocoon of infinite and formless black, not merely inky like the night sky but an entire vacuum of emptiness that made her feel very small in a world that wanted to devour her whole. It brought a shiver to her heartbeat, an arrythmia that she felt on the surface of her skin, and her fingers tensed, seeking something, she knew not what, that might give her comfort in the uncertainty.
One hand raised, delicately, hesitantly, to her head, and she felt a coil of restriction tense about her heart.
"...Is this what food poisoning is? I have never exper- nnghh."
Hands slowly find her own cheeks, eyes falling to the poor woman beside her. Fu Hua wishes to offer condolences, to tell her that this was a mistake and profusely apologize for her own shortcomings. That thought brings pause to the woman. The innate readiness to blame and downplay her own actions are so ancient she'd forgotten she'd felt them once before.
"This is worse. This is far worse." Hands clutch her temple, impossible to prevent the spiral train of thoughts. The worst part of such a trip had to be that they didn't have anywhere to seclude themselves and ride it out. They were in a public park, lamenting past decisions.
Chains of darkness shackles wrists and ribs to the bench, the woman groaning out into her lap, caged by arms. Though old memories did not suddenly resurface, the new ones she could recalled felt surreal. Teetering between so vivid that if she could experience those metal walls and uncomfortable bunk beds once again, and so fictitious that even a child's own ink and paper would be more believable.
Rosy words tickled her eardrums, seeped beneath flamelicked skin and crept over every inch of her body. Head thrust up, she looks around, wishing she could find that angelic figure. But alas, she was nowhere to be found. She is finally calm, those pains fading, as if having worked through her system. Her back finds the bench again, head letting loose the final amount of tension her body held. Eyes scan the dark nights of Penacony, wondering if it were finally over.
That would be too good now wouldn't it?
Eyes set upon the other, looking for words again, yet that surge of timidness presents itself again. Words tug at pursed lips, but cannot make their way out. She looks dazed, gaze quickly dancing down her body and to the paved stones before them. The girl seeks answers in the brick and mortar. No longer pained, but definitely far from what was normal.
"I feel better," gentle, careful, afraid to overstay her welcome. "Do you feel different? I can't... explain what it is, but something is missing..." A careful pause, considerate of what the other may be thinking.
ill make an archon out of you
' STUDENT ' IS A ROLE SHE'S BEEN GRADUATED FROM ✧ for some time now. it's difficult to remember when she had last been expressly taught anything——after all, who would presume to teach a god? but still the fine student she makes, standing motionlessly with concentrated mien and listening closely as the teacher speaks, taking in the instruction at every word with careful consideration as she would expect of the actors and actresses upon her own stage when receiving feedback and direction.
her weapon and her are one. its weight is her weight, and its strength hers. it sounds profound, but she thinks she can understand nonetheless if she imagines it like a prop during a dance such as a hat or a cane or parasol. in those moments, they were extensions of her just as much as her own arm or leg, something that could be used to flourish and to gesture, and whose weight and temperaments had to be considered and counterbalanced just as her own.
a weapon isn't being used for the same purpose as a prop, of course. but perhaps she could apply the same principle.
"ah?" without warning, fu hua switches from theory to something practical on a dime. she has no choice but to lurch and grab the long object thrown to her——a slender bamboo shoot, rough and smooth all at once in her hand. unpolished, just like herself. she looks back to her instructor, taking in the ready stance she'd placed herself in, so reminiscent of the last time she had seen her: a blazing core of practiced peace amidst the chaos. red and white as blood and angels' wings ; from time to time, others had told her she'd resembled a bejeweled swan upon the still lake on stage. had they seen her the same way?
nostrils flare around a deep breath as she refocuses. though she doesn't have any illusions about being successful, she understands fu hua's intentions and would follow them with the best she could manage. how had clorinde fought, in the harrowing duels she'd on occasion been obligated to watch? how might she fight, if this were something real and not just a control test?
fu hua said not to hold back. she was a seasoned fighter. (⠀but what if she hurt her by accident?⠀)
she's been standing here too long thinking.
". . . hyaah!" abandoning that to the wind, solid legs finally break into a short run, lashing out in a downward swipe with the reed as though it were her sceptre ; then again, in a whistling X ; a sharp pivot on her heel turns her, as though a dance, in a spinning three-sixty into another cut, this time across——a pirouetting, artful move, but one leaving plenty of time for a real opponent to capitalize, that left her easily knocked off balance in its wake.
Serenity was born of defiance. It came from that which had no equal trade to pain. Garuda carried the weight of the world for longer than most could even comprehend. If one were to pay attention, they may still find the occasional tremor in accordance with deep breaths - as if so powerful it took more than she had to tame that fire. Intensity even she did not realize she carried contrasted the warmth of her nature, the comfort in careful hands, sturdy arms, or gentle grin.
The woman does not buckle under any strike that comes, instead shrugging the assault off with calm side steps. Then another, then a final step backwards to avoid the initial slashes. What others may perceive to be Fu Hua narrowly avoiding each strike is in fact anticipation, as if the woman is simply moving before Furina even seems to know what she wants to do. "Hmm..." thoughtful in sound, the spin was worthy of punishment. Before Furina can complete the strike, a simple chop downwards from her palm, knocking the bamboo shoot to the ground while Furina completed her pirouette weaponless.
Quick to grip her arm, the spin comes to a halt just past where it may have stopped initially. Seriousness drops into the aforementioned smile, letting the girl go after a moment. "That wasn't bad! Quite honestly I wasn't expecting that sort of poise or confidence." Far different than the merciless approach she once had so long ago. Yes, those strikes were never going to land on a readied enemy, but her kind of confidence was necessary, even if the additional movement was not.
"But there is room for improvement." Her stances loosens, as if all tension leaves her body in that moment. She is gracious enough to bend down and grab the bamboo shoot for Furina, handing it back properly instead of just tossing it her way. "What do you think you did wrong there, Furina?"
Though she is calling attention to failures, the woman sounds genuine in her question. As if she couldn't place why the actress had failed, what was most important was that she recognized her own shortcomings. While a lesson in itself, it was far from the point she was getting to. Simply a stepping stone on the way to the end goal.
「 ♆ 」 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴
abundance commission [ mydei | fu hua ]
Blood and death, despite what his people might say, are not glorious companions.
Mydei is grateful that most days he has little time to think these thoughts, locked in perpetual night and with a ceaseless struggle of enemies that shred under his hands. Strife burns restless energy under his skin, staving exhaustion that would plague any wholly human vessel after days – weeks (?) – of endless battle. He has stopped attempting to count the hours. It did not matter to him here, where every second was Action Hour for the forces that compelled the Black Tide.
It should be fitting that he thrives here, mind gone mute save the intelligence in his gaze as he locks onto another enemy, armor shattering under his fist. Then another. Titankin arrows pierce his skin and he does nothing other than snarl, ripping steel tipped gold with his blood before wheeling to crush the offending foes in a mist of sharp crystal.
This was always to be his fate. A crown, a throne, and blood – all the songs both praising and condemning his unmatched skill for war had pinned the truth to him as if it were a brand. Destruction and chaos, killing and dying and rising again, this blood-soaked excuse of a once great city is where he belongs.
Minutes, hours, days- he readily loses himself to the repetitive war drum of battle. An army of one to the many, where he has no care to pull his strength in the presence of allies.
The blow that lands to his side scorches hotter than any real flame, winded by surprise more than the way his body kicks into a stone pillar and collapses it. Titankin still swarm his vision, and Mydei is on his feet with a reflexive roar, fighting his way towards the flames that carve an indiscriminate line through their ranks.
Rarely did his enemies pose him a challenge other than sheer number, but he had not discounted it, had not been so careless as to believe that things possessing strength as the Flame Reaver did would not raise weapons against him. ’Alright,’ his grin is sharp when he spots the flash of moving flame, uncaring if the thrill of a new challenge was his own or of the coreflame that remade him.
Impatient, he crushes several enemies with a decisive strike, leaving a small crater on the dirty stone floor where his fist made an impact, the force blowing lesser Titankin across the open room of a lecture hall. In battle, Mydei has always found it easier to be open, to look longer than he would in sophisticated company. He looks now, gaze narrowed even as he sends shards of killing crystals to race toward her, ravenous for how it streaks a violent line from his feet toward her, rending the ground as it goes.
For each brute that found the flame company, there were fewer that danced to the methodical, flowing flicker rather than the rampaging beat of ones heart. The journey that led to these pits of carnage were basked in fog. There was no certainty that anything down here would make it out alive. Grotesque arms and suits of armor with no host barrage whatever stands in their way.
Wings flourish in carnage, ready to take flight.
Fu Hua did not know why, did not know how, but as her own powers tasted the knifes edge, this pressure was nothing. They fought with honor, but without pause, fighting to their end. Herrschers forged a Phoenix who could play with fate without fear. Would they be chanting her name upon their last breath - assuming they could even do that? Her desire to find that which was lost guided fists and heels to cleave through these hoards, poised beyond what would be found in this hellish place.
Golden talons pierce through armor, Garuda's heat weakening enemies with ease. Heels cracked against the helmets of adversaries as she dove forward, skipping like spurts of flame across rivers of lava. Even as spears piled into shoulders and ribs, cinders sweep across legs, momentum then rocketing them upwards as the Phoenix's wings rising in tandem with her swift movements. The Honkai dragged her down further than she could ever imagine, reminiscing as bodies crash to dirt. There was no map to guide her through the passage time, faces etched into her mind slowly eroding and fading.
Walls of iron and concrete did little to stop the furnace she became, channeling her very life into her stride. As if time simply stopped, her fist collided with the ground, echoing the songs of war through the rocks and stones of the underworld. Even after such a display of power, she found courtesy to stand properly and take a deep breath. She did not know this man, though the details of his face elicit something deep within. Familiarity despite it all leads to pulled punches as she balanced the ebb and flow of her attacks.
As if veins of the world showed in this very moment, a sharp inhale focusing on evading his fury. Pushing off the ground to the side. It is serene, how she evades each attack carving its name into the earth, weaving through it. She is quick, unsure of what it was that even led them to trade blows. Perhaps that is simply the nature of this place.
She strides forward through the crystals, finding even the tightest of gaps to close the distance. Once close enough, she found balance upon one foot, the other rising and tight to her chest, only to unleash a blistering flurry of kicks. This one is different, she swears she heard him speak, but she must understand him first. Even so, these kicks look to understand how quickly he may guard, how he may counterattack or if he would simply look to create more space between them.