The Dragon Tamer

❦“As most are like to be.” The response was nearly instantaneous; Milo was no fool as not to realize that most magic users are learned in the means of its power. Such aspects are even more pronounced in times like these where nations strike at each other mercilessly for some reason or another. 

War was a cruel madam who awarded no victors.

Raihan continued to pose his questions, leaning worryingly close. Now, they may have struck a tentative truce, but Milo was far from comfortable with the direction of this exchange. He leaned as far back as he could, the blazing of his aching side gone ignored for a while longer. Milo’s lips pursed shut as his mind tried to slowly formulate a good response- Just then he felt something from the roots of their improvised tree. A steadiness that wasn’t there before.

He twisted enough to glance over his shoulder. Things seemed still. “T-The landslide,” He began, voice faltering slightly. “It’s stopped. We should be safe to get down, but the earth’s soft and hard to navigate. I’d wager a heavy enemy would sink up to…” There’s a pause. Milo frowns. He turns to examine Raihan, entirely silent for an instance. “… your waist. My chest.” Ah, height discrepancies.

“Your spear,” The geomancer continued, hoping to keep the topic at hand. “It’s been carried, but lodged into something before being taken too far. It’s about fifty strides south of here” The creaking of wood groaned softly in the backdrop of this conversation. Slowly, the vines eased and lowered, not entirely, but enough that they could securely reach the ground and test the terrain. “… Should we go fetch it?”

Just because he acknowledged that his questions were unwarranted didn’t mean he didn’t want answer, and Raihan sulks slightly at the lack of a response. He wasn’t going to do anything with that information, come on.

“Oh, that’s great!” He recovers quickly, however, at the mention that the landslide has finally, finally, he was getting bored, stopped. He’s not sure how the other can tell- Both abour the landslide and the earth, he’s squinting from his position on the branch and he can’t really see shit, but he’ll take Milo’s word for it, even if the other sounds rather apprehensive about it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try ‘n pull you up if you sink.” Raihan snickers as he casts his gaze far, trying to pinpoint where exactly his spear might be. Again, he won’t ask how the other knows, perhaps it’s some sort of magical power of communing with the earth and soil, he’ll never understand all that gibberish, but it sure is helpful to have someone around who’s well versed in it.

“Don’t mind if I do, then!”

And just like that, he pushes himself off the branch and slides down the trunk, easing himself onto the soft soil. His armor doesn’t help him stay afloat, and he grimaces at the thought of having to scrub the grime off when they reach civilization, but it doesn’t seem like the earth will be hardening any time soon, so he sighs and starts wading through towards where his spear might be.

“Damn. Still looking fine as fuck.”

❦“Raihan…” Milo parrots, as if committing the name to memory. Oddly enough though, the lancer carries on, his smile speaking of accomplishment pride. Something about how the man utters his following phrase has Milo quirking an inquisitive brow, his head tilting to the side in a near comical expression. “Should I?” He replies, somewhat nervously at that. A hand reaches up and already he’s tugging at the old scarf wrapped around his neck, the poor thing terribly mussed in combat and rain alike. “I was drafted maybe two weeks ago tops, so maybe I’m still too fresh to have heard something…” He explains, almost apologetic for his ignorance.

Well, that certainly did clarify Milo’s awkward skills on a battlefield. He could still pose as a force in a battlefield, but he had no training with martial defenses of any sort.

“As for me being a mage,” Milo readjusted himself on their saving tree, the plant still stubbornly standing against the now subsiding landslide. “I’m a geomancer. It’s a common practice in Turffield; we use magic that weaves with the terrain. I only can work with what’s naturally available to me. Stone, mud, earth, vines…” His hand spreads over the branch closest to him in demonstration. The wooden length thickens and twists around, the movement natural if only worryingly fast for a plant to be growing in, finally coming to a stop somewhat closer to the dragoon in order to offer a firmer place with which to steady himself. “It’s a flexible form of magic, but not as destructive as your usual wizard.”

“We’re not the sort to be called for combat.”

Mayhaps he’s a bit disappointed that the other doesn’t know him well, but thinking on it, it’s definitely a good thing. Milo may not have been so quick to trust him and allow him shelter on the tree if he had known who he was.

“Well, no matter! You know who I am now.”

Hearing that the other was a newcomer on the battlefield perhaps made him a tad bit guilty. Of course, it matters naught in war and Raihan still has to do his job, but it still doesn’t feel right defeating an enemy with only two weeks worth of experience.

In fact, it makes him feel a bit like a bully.

“That’s impressive.” He says, watching the branch grow right before his eyes, “I’ve not seen this kind of magic in the Hammerlocke army- The mages we have are more, well, destructive.”  What else could be expected of them? Truly they’re a dangerous bunch, and look where that brought them.

“Dang, you’re really aimin’ to hit me hard here, huh?”

Raihan’s silent for a moment- It’s unbecoming of him to confess to either of these sins (Is this... Public?), but maybe it could be kind of cathartic to confess to something he keeps close to himself, right?

“Well, I’ll throw you a bone ‘n tell you something that relates to both of these, how ‘bout that?

Y’know... How that kid- The current champion, yeah- how they beat Leon? I always thought it was gonna be me.”

He pauses to laugh, hollow and dry. Thinking of that day embarrassed him, he’d let his true feelings out for a moment and he regrets it. He’s only glad that neither Leon nor the kid was there to see it.

“Well, when I heard that they’d beat him, I lost track of myself for a moment there. Don’t think the staff appreciated having to clean up after me in the locker room after that.”

Raihan sighs dramatically.

“Really?”

Raihan laughs.

“Pride? Isn’t there some more interestin’ sin you’d like to know about?” Come on, isn’t that a bit too easy? He’d say he’s just about the most prideful person he knows, and he’s not afraid to admit it either.

❦ The promise would have to do for them both. Neither was in a condition to reject the other.

Milo eased up slightly, leaning back against the thick makeshift branch that supported him. With the landslide coming to an end, the precarious tree held firmly now, growing firmer now that the pressure it was put under relented and the magic it had been given still flourished. Milo could feel the bark under his hands thicken, the vines embracing each other in this new shape. It was an odd comfort. Licking over his lips, he tasted rain and let that help his dry throat.

“Milo. My name is Milo.” He replied, finding the novelty of an introduction between enemies to be… curious, somehow. “The landslide should keep going for a bit shorter still; the rain’s feeding it but the soil’s lazing. We should be able to step down shortly, but it’ll be soft muck.“ 

A moment of silence, before at last… “And you? What’s your name?” Apparently, the dragoon’s notoriety wasn’t such that the geomancer had any idea of his identity.

The other... Doesn’t recognize him? Raihan isn’t sure whether he should feel insulted or relived- Perhaps the geomancer would not have been as welcoming if he did know who he was (although he doesn’t think he could make a worse first impression, considering he was about to spear the man through his chest). He settles for a mixture of the both, letting out a sigh.

“I’m Raihan, a dragoon of the Hammerlocke empire.” He pauses, allowing a moment or two to pass before his pride gets the better of him, and he shoots the other a smirk.

“The dragoon, in fact- I’m sure you’ve heard of me, right?” He’s curious, alright? Is he as well know in other regions as he is in his own empire? Truth to be told, he’s not quite sure what he expects (does he... Actually want to be known for what he does on the battlefield? Maybe he regrets asking as soon as he does).

❦ Not a one. Milo didn’t want to glance down into the shifting soil to calculate the probability of survival. Thankfully, his unexpected company provided a means of distraction. It wasn’t much better than the previous prospect, but he’d sooner consider conflict than loss.

“I’m not interested in contributing to body counts.” He responded, though there was something lacking in his reply. Milo was in no condition to fend the dragoon off now, nor would he be able to make the trip alone back to the frontlines from whence they’d been traveling. His group was intended as reinforcement for a somewhat distant settlement and they were well on their way when they’d happened upon the enemy. An unexpected battle with similarly unexpected results.

Either way, his aching ribs felt less bruised and more damaged the more he paid mind to them. If he wanted to return safely, he’d need help. And fortune played him for a fool, allowing the only other survivor to be the very man who’d nearly skewered him. So, Milo would have to play this up. “Now, unless you’d rather take a swim, it’s a bad idea to try anything. I don’t need a lance to defend myself, but I’d rather not get into that.”

“I’m fine with you staying here,” Still, the look in Milo’s eyes spoke of conditions. “As long as you can give me your word that you won’t be fighting me once the landslide is through.” He’d only have the lancer’s word on it… but Milo didn’t have an option either.

“Relax.” He says with a grin, “I don’t have anything against you personally, so you have my word that I won’t attack you once we’re safe from the landslide.” Historically, Raihan has never minded playing dirty and utilizing loopholes, and he wonders whether or not his reputation precedes him.

Ah well, he’s given his word, it’s up to the other whether or not he wants to believe him. Speaking of reputations...

❦ The precarious plant rocks against the weight of water and earth, but its roots run deep and the onslaught cannot fell it. The battlefield - a flat expanse of trod down grass at the base of an incline - was now nothing but clay and mud, shifting like molten lava. Milo watched, still short for breath, as everything got swept under the red of it, combatants run over by the tide, buried alive.

He swallows heavily and tears his eyes off from the ground.

Greeting the dragoon that had earlier intended to gouge through his chest on the top of those vines didn’t feel exceptionally comforting. MIlo turned over, but felt the aching bruise of his ribs clearly enough that he knew he couldn’t fight the other off. Luck would have it that - at least - the lancer was unarmed. It was a standstill, and even then Milo didn’t particularly feel enough animosity for the stranger in order to risk another life.

“Did anyone else manage?” He asks, somewhat breathless but clear enough that he can be heard over the thinning rain. It’d be a while longer before either of them could get down, and even then the ground would be awful to trudge in.

Raihan tries not to think about how many of those who didn’t manage were his friends at the other’s question, directing his attention lower on the vines as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

“Nah.” He answers after a short pause, properly hoisting himself up onto a branch so he can take a rest. He’s quite surprised that the improvised plant is able to take the weight of two people considering he’s not light, especially not with his armor, muddied from his desperate clamber towards safety. At the thought of having to clean that up he grimaces, perhaps more bothered by that than their current predicament. “I don’t really see anyone.”

He’s well aware that it’s not what the other wants to hear, nor does it bring him any joy to say those words. They’re not necessarily dead, of course, just not alive.

Schrödinger's battalion, he thinks to himself, and chuckles.

“So, how long d’you plan on letting me hang out on your tree?” Raihan asks, to shift the attention away from straight up depressing, “I’m dangerous, you know, even without my lance.” Not that he has any plans of attacking the other of course- He’s not going to try and kill his savior, especially when he has no idea exactly how the other’s magic works. Can he still control the plant after summoning it from the ground up? He’ll assume yes, which means any scenario he conjures up in which he attacks the geomancer involves him being flung off the very tree he’s clinging to for his life.

tagged by : @skulldxddy​ tagging : do it if u wanna!

—    basics.

▸       is your muse tall    /    short    /    average ? Sir is 6′9″, and he likes to make it known.

▸       are they okay with their height ? Yes. He loves it. Some people may say he’s 6′8″, but no, he’s definitely 6′9″.

▸      what’s their hair like ? Very dark brown hair. He wears them in dreadlocks. I’m really not the best at describing stuff.

▸     do they spend a  lot of time on their hair     /    grooming ? Yeah, definitely. Aside from keeping really good care of his hair (and spending a lot of time after battles getting sand out), he also has a morning skincare routine. Gotta look good and have clear skin for his selfies.

▸      does your muse care about their appearance   /   what others think ? Raihan big cares about his own appearance (see above) and couldn’t care less about what others think. Not the type to be affected by hate comments at all.

—    preferences.

▸      indoors    or    outdoors ? Outdoors. The lighting’s better. LOL but seriously, he doesn’t like staying inside too much, and thinks sun’s important to you.

▸      rain    or    sunshine ? Sunshine. He doesn’t like the hassle of getting wet from rain, especially when it ruins his look.

▸      forest    or    beach ? Beach. Ya boi’s gotta take beach selfies.

▸      precious    metals    or    gems ? Gems. They’re shiny. They catch his attention. He’ll hoard them.

▸      flowers    or    perfumes ? Neither. Flowers die too easily, and perfume kinda smells like shit to him.

▸      personality    or    appearance ? Honestly, probably appearance. Definitely easier to attract him with a pretty face over a good personality.

▸      being    alone    or    being    in    a    crowd ? Both have their merits? But probably leaning a bit more towards crowds.

▸      order    or    anarchy ? Very obviously anarchy.

▸      painful    truths    or    white    lies ? Painful truths. He hates being lied to, and he doesn’t get hurt easily anyway. He’s also not bothered about hurting other people’s feelings if he’s on the giving end.

▸      science    or    magic ? Magic is cooler.

▸      peace    or    conflict ? Raihan kind of... Enjoys conflict. Peace is too quiet.

▸      night    or    day ? Probably day? Not sure.

▸      dusk    or    dawn ? Not sure...

▸      warmth    or    cold ? Cold, just because he’s practically a human heater, and any more heat will make him sweat buckets.

▸      many   acquaintances    or    a    few   close    friends ? Many acquaintances.

▸      reading    or    playing    a    game ? He has 0 patience to read, and it really depends on what game.

—    questionnaire.

▸      what are some of your muse’s bad habits ? Being on his phone all the time, taking pictures of his food before eating, paying absolutely 0 attention to what’s going on around him and the people around him, teasing literally everyone with no regards for their comfort level, no brain to mouth filter.

▸      has your muse lost anyone close to them ? how has it affected them ? No.

▸      what are some fond memories your muse has ? Receiving his first Pokemon, entering the gym challenge, becoming a gym leader.

▸     is it easy for your muse to kill ? No, that’s not really a thing he would every do? Not that there would ever be an opportunity where he would... Have to? In this universe? LOL

▸      what’s it like when your muse breaks down ? I guess this really depends on what kind of break down and what led to it, though Raihan is probably the silent type when he gets unhinged. He’d give you a cold and deadly stare, you’d be able to sense the burning hatred radiating from him.

▸      is your muse capable of trusting someone with their life ? Unlikely, but perhaps possible.

you have no brain cells

maybe you used to but it doesn't matter. the point is you don't have any now. you're running purely on spite and either caffeine or sugar. nice

Raihan, out of spite, purposefully knocks over a (thankfully empty) mug as he turns to look at Piers.

“Actually, it is.” He retorts, “Because I’m super close to my next million, Piers, so every follower counts. Actually, are you following me? Was it you, did you unfollow me?”