loyal / fighter

                                                                       𝒊 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅 you like the bad girls                                                                        —            honey, is that true?

kris wants to frown, to shout, to r i p t h e m o u t but instead. they watch. their face growing into a grin as they overview the results of their handiwork. the mouse terminals and buttons frozen, and the forcefield gone. all thanks to her. it was ALL thanks to her. how many enemies lay frozen behind them? who knows. who cares. how many will be ahead? who knows. who cares.

they listen intently, to noelle’s thoughts murmurs. reassurance that they weren’t hurting her, that they were just helping her get stronger. stronger. she was.

━━ ♡ “Yes. I was. Making you stronger.”

after kris' pushing, to say noelle is on edge is an understatement. there's a shiver deep in her bones that can't be dismissed no longer ; a shiver that shakes her entire being with ... disgust, or happiness, or even fear. doesn't kris understand they could've killed her? does kris even care? no, no, she can't think like that. of course her friend cares -- noelle has to believe in that. believe in them and their crusade to become stronger, to achieve a status bigger then life itself. her angelic dress drags behind her ( the seams at the ends ruined with stains she doesn't want to acknowledge ) as noelle keeps moving forward and never looking back.

being pushed like that made her stronger! it made noelle save them and find a way out that didn't deal with tedious puzzles that kris and her were above. sometimes, in order to gain tough skin, someone has to push, right? right. despite her best efforts to provide herself a shred of comfort, however, the doe's chest still rises and falls erratically. her hands still shake. and she keeps behind kris as much as possible, eyes looking around to make sure she's not led anywhere that could close her in. ( and what would she do if kris did that again? she doesn't dwell on it )

then that voice rises up again, worming inside her head and lapping up her thoughts to share. noelle childishly covers her ears, as though it'll stop the invasion. “kris! h-how do you keep doing that?!” squeaks the angel, before she remembers herself ( remembers who she's with ) and quiets down.

“a-and i know you are! ... you're a really g-gh --” she can't say that. “ ... you've always looked out for me. you'd never hurt me. i was so silly to think you would, and i-i'm sorry! i should never --”

kris doesn't spare her a glance as they continue down the unlocked alleyway they're traveling. she can't deny the sudden hurt withering in her tiny chest at being dismissed so easily. leaving noelle to scamper along in order to keep up, hooves clicking against the ground as she tries her hardest to not trip over her gown. hand outstretched like she wants to steady herself on kris ; though she lowers it back to her side when she finally catches up. better that way, she's sure. and since kris isn't interested in apologizes, the reindeer stops uttering one. yet the silence suffocates her and leaves her to her mean thoughts, so she attempts something else. desperate not to be stuck in her head.

if blizzards could inhabit things, she knows she would house many in her brittle body. past ones, the ones she presently brings about with her numb fingertips, and blizzards to come. snowy hell that reaps with a hunger to chill everything in its path. drowning helpless weak things in its depths where they suffocate under their fear before she finishes wiping them out. it blurs : the bodies akin to the white droplets that fluff her eyelashes and whip her cheeks bleeding red. noelle had found comfort in that nothingness at first – still shuffling into her role as a lighthouse of all things poisonously pretty. settling to masquerade about with her bright red nose and false sense of purity. but delusions only go so far, and snow can only blind you so much before the weight snaps bones.

noelle’s original fatigue over the whole ordeal was violent in the beginning. bile pushing against her tiny throat and hands shaking. rendered unable to attend class where she’d only stare at the empty seat. seeing her father’s hospital room only to cower away, hands clutching at her silly christmas vest as if she could hurt him too. ( you certainly hurt berdly ). it was awful at first, when the dream nightmare(?) was shattered by terrifying words paired with a smooth tone that slipped down her like honey. left with shards that cut into her too much like the thorn ring did. why was all of kris’ damage so familiar, so comparable to everything noelle agonizes over?

it’s now been a week, maybe two, noelle struggles to keep track of days now since it blurs like winter – and the reindeer finds herself fumbling into acceptance. it feels too much like rebirth, the kind she’d briefly skim over in kris’ old bibles. and it’s … an empty feeling. shedding her old deer skin and coming into her sharpened antlers isn’t the proud moment she thought it’d be. it’s nothing like anything at all. faintly tiring like she’s a thousand years old and not some young teen with ice magic coursing through her veins.

though it’s enough to lead her blindly back into the dark world. to feel her new skin now that she knows too well she’ll never truly fit her old coat. re-adorned with her regal white robe that dances around her hooves like water, like noelle holiday is an angel gracing this darkened world when she’s anything but. she doesn’t feel like one of god’s angels when her knees immediately meet the ground, bruising as she arches her back. bent over in an angle that makes her messy blonde hair ( why bother tidying up? it’ll ruin itself again anyway ) mask away her twisted expression. she’s certainly not feeling holy even when her hands clasp together in prayer because while noelle is very hollow, the moment she’s here she thinks obsessively of kris – kris in her ear. kris’ hand on her back, guiding her. kris’ commands and it awakens something! stirs the hollowness like nothing else, and trust her, she’s attempted to wean on other things.

ears twitch once. hearing the patter of steps. a … what were her classmates called down here? a lightner? or was a darkner more likely? either way, noelle’s mind glazes over again with her heart locking tightly up in a cage. eyes as wide as headlights when hair brushes just slightly to the side so she can gawk.

“w-wh-who’s there? i know s-someone is!” a surge of kris’ conditioned strength pulses in her. “show yourself … i’m not in the mood for … games.”

games. dreams. maybe noelle is still childishly clinging to this being less of what it is. she thinks about berdly and doesn’t think it matters either way.

blue skin suits kris better than brown ever did.

similarly to noelle, the teenager had found their way back to the dark world after the events of what their childhood friend seems to believe is a nightmare. it isn’t a nightmare, though, and she must know it. because she wouldn’t be here, seeking it out, if she thought it wasn’t real. so they’d shattered her delusions around this place, awakened her to her true nature.

good. now they’re the same.

because kris doesn’t just like the dark world because there are friends there, because there’s no school projects or church programs to attend. they like the dark world because it makes their clothes pink and their skin blue. no longer touting the handmade sweater their mother’s made for them. no longer being led to class hand-in-hand, as if she doesn’t trust them enough to let them walk on their own. no being babied, no being mothered. no cinnamon-butterscotch pies on the stove. here, candy just absorbs into them, never sating their hunger. here, they don’t look like they could be asriel’s miserable twin. here, they’re strong. and they’re determined.

seeing noelle again awakens that feeling. that hunger. that determination. kris steps into view and doesn’t smile. they’re just looking at noelle, familiar in her angelic gown. they hold up their hand in what seems like a wave, but has a far more sinister purpose. they’d gone to the shop and had a cosmetic ring fashioned for themselves. one that matches the one still around noelle’s finger, clinging to her as soon as she falls into the world of darkness.

“look. we match now.” like husband and wife, they don’t say. but kris doesn’t ruminate on it too long, sliding their ringed hand into their pocket as they look to the side with an almost irritated countenance. of course, they would be upset. they had just slain all the enemies in the area. if they’d waited just a few more minutes, noelle could have become stronger. more capable. less afraid. she could fend for herself, advocate for herself. she wouldn’t have to hide behind her girlish charm and her cutesy demeanour. if she were strong, surely she’d be happy. and if she couldn’t be happy… she’d at least be safe.

violent blues fill her sight, but when do they not? she sees that color in her real dreams -- flashing behind her weak eyelids and stuffing her stomach with dread. noelle doesn't blink at that color anymore, but what does make her blink is the pinks. a color solely adorned by the person before her. the name bounces around her mouth only to stick to her tongue ; kris. kris, the person who helped her unlock the magic within. kris, her childhood friend that saved her from lonely days. kris, the one who whispered the command to make her kill another. multiple others. berdly. yet she can't summon up any distain for the other teenager. noelle can only feel the now faint throb of fear that's too easily overpowered by something else. she doesn't want to think about it. she shouldn't. it'll make her ill and if she's ill she can't protect kris from enemies here. so noelle tries to wash it away with words ; not eager to show vulnerability in a world such as this.

“o-oh, kris ...” i was just thinking about you, she doesn't say, nor does she confess i can't stop thinking about you. “you're here. it's ... it's n-nice to see a friendly face.”

friendly is something kris is not, the reindeer girl knows this well from the cruel pranks that reek of childhood, but she thinks it doesn't matter. nothing in the dark world is friendly. everything here wants to battle, just like the above world -- the only difference is that down here, nobody tries to pretend to be civilized. it took a long time for her big eyes to see that and feel the crushing weight of reality, yet she knows ( kris knows, makes her know ) that numbness is better then being blind. then used. her dainty nose wrinkles up, like she might start to cry like the lost child she is ... but then she sees it. and the guiding voice speaks. a ring to match her own. her father's words float in her head, something about imitation being a form of flattery, though the doe just feels cold.

eyes dart back and forth between the ring on her finger and the one on kris' hand. does it bleed them dry like the thorns do to her? or was the suffering of the ring one-sided? a sniff, “we sure do ... i-i'm,” her heart twists, posture sinking. “i'm honored you'd want to match with someone like me.” they don't like to associate with frail girls anymore, she knows. susie is proof of that. noelle must be grateful kris finds anything of worth in a lowly thing like her.

so she tries to summon that gratitude, tries to fall right back into the dynamic they left behind last time. with her and her willing paws and kris with their firm tone. they were the only person who cradled her down in these dreary depths, weren't they? this line of thinking is why she can't bring herself to say no, or even consider it an option, when kris reaches out. their hands touch, albeit awkwardly due to her girlish fumbling, and she meekly grips back. no sound surfaces from their rings clinking together like so, though noelle finds herself fixated upon it nonetheless. hand in hand, ring to ring, power to power, girl to her savior. it's enough to spur her to look up at kris, blonde hair falling everywhere in order to reveal her worn face. the angel stares for a beat, then two, and thinks about marriage ; and wonders if this is what it was like for all the stuffed toys she would have kiss and live happily ever after in her room. was this hers? kris makes me happy, she thinks, kris loves me or else they'd kill me for getting in their way. they wouldn't hold my hand.

slowly loops arm around theirs, gently clutching at the limb. noelle looks a little guilty, cheeks warm, but purposely rests her head on kris' shoulder nonetheless ; unusually bold with her affection. “what's got you so worked up? i'm fine! right here, s-see?” a squeeze is applied to their bicep. “it's just silly reindeer games ... but i-i'm sorry i died so early! i know you're probably mad at me, um, for that ...”

lv2tactician ‘s hunger games simulator event

a 24-muse battle to the death.

details on how to participate (and other stuff) down below the read more!

DEATH

Noelle got stronger.

“ Close your eyes. ” he isn’t patient enough to wait for  her to follow his instruction, simply going ahead and   placing a sticker on her arm. It’s a star. “ Guess what ? that’s you ! heheh ! ”

“w-what? my eyes ...?” instinctively, noelle hesitates. eyes as wide as headlights while she gawks at the boy, blonde tresses framing her thin face. the cautious nature bred from inner turmoil moreso then her not trusting zach. “um, like seriously? you're not planning on playing a cruel trick, are you?”

can never be too careful. after all, noelle is used to pranks from kris. doesn't mean she's fond of them though, much less from others.

but her fretting is swiftly nipped in the bud when zach impatiently moves on anyway. hair fluffing up at the initial shock when something sticky slaps onto her light brown fur. noelle stares. then her lips gracefully form into a smile, small and true. a star? her?

a bubble of laughter, “oh, zach! you're giving me a sticker? but i don't have anything for you!” of course that's what she decides to worry about. “um, i know! how about this star takes you to the store and you can pick out any snack you want?”