not your day, huh?

"Horses are only as good as their riders, is that not a tenet I've been attempting to strike into you?" Ah - of most his students, Sylvain would be the one to know the least.

"Cross country huh - you seem well versed." Niðavellier had no time for such trivialities, he too has little of it now... but he will bite. Just this once.

A smirk pulled taut to keep itself from spreading further rests across his face.

And so perhaps he should’ve known, as soon as he saw that ominous smirk, that whatever his professor was about to come up with just wouldn’t be good. For him, at least.

“Wait…wait wait!” The ginger took a step back, careful to not accidentally bump into someone in the crowd, hands raised in defense. “You’re not telling me to go out there and race, are you? Just- I know how to ride and all, but that’s a bit crazy don’t you think? And also, the race is about to start and I don’t think I can sign myself up-” Ignoring the fact that the competition seemed to be rather loose in regards to its organization and probably no one would exactly care if he just went and asked the organizers permission to participate, of course.

Good marks for his next certification exam.

Sylvain wasn’t desperate for grades, far from it in reality. As much as he skipped classes liberally and had the general composure of a lazy uninterested student, he always gave his all when it mattered, particularly when it was a discipline he enjoyed such as riding. That wasn’t his concern.

Rather…it was what Fáfnir could end up doing. Would he deduct points from his exam if he declines? “You’re joking, right professor? Haha…”

But when his own smile became devious, Hilda narrowed her eyes. She didn't like the look in his eye one bit...

A hand and a challenge were presented to her as one. She glanced at it and then up at him, toying with a piece of hair. On the one hand, take Sylvain's reluctance to get wet and double it, no, triple it, and one might come close to her level of resistance. She had not a strand out of place, and besides, did he know how long it took for hair of her length to dry?

On the other... She'd never seen Sylvain wield a bow. What were the chances he'd hit? Her own skill with the weapon didn't leave much to be desired, but that just meant that there was an extremely high chance that both of them walked away completely dry and teasing one another for their incompetence.

"You drive a hard bargain, Sylvain." She reached out to take his hand, sliding her soft skin over his intentionally slowly before squeezing, her gaze locked on his. "But you're on."

“I get to dunk you in water and go on a date afterwards? There’s no better deal than that! But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to give you time to get dry and style your hair. Wouldn’t want to see you catching a cold during our date!” And so, when she took his hand in the offer, his heart fluttered in giddy happiness like a child finally getting to play with their friends at the local town fair rather than looming dread. Giving her a cheeky wink and hoping that he hadn’t jinxed himself then and there, a pale hand ran through ginger locks. “Damn…ladies nowadays are pretty demanding huh…but there’s no better gentleman out there than me.”

Smart girl. Way too smart, he thought to himself with a half nervous, half amused smile gracing his features on his way to the contraption. A quick talk with the guy managing it led to him  sitting on the wood platform, suddenly feeling a little too exposed in front of everyone- and of Hilda. A glimpse of the tub of water below earned a little nervous laugh from Sylvain, but no issue. 

There’s no way she’ll get it, and so, comforted by that confident thought, he intertwined his fingers behind his head in a laid back way.

Meanwhile, the older guy handed over the bow and a quiver of arrows.

“You got five attempts. Good luck, lass.”

Roll 1d20, if >16, success.

“Come on, Hilda! Don’t keep me waiting! Though you do look pretty beautiful from this angle, I gotta say!”

Although an easy, fluttering laugh left his lips amidst the bustling crowd surrounding them, cold sweat ran down his temple barely hidden by ginger curls. It was a beautiful day with nothing particularly important to tend to classes-wise (at least in his book), that coupled with the newest event taking place in the local area made for an obvious itinerary.

Go there and see what’s all about, check around for some girls to charm and maybe return with a lady or two hanging off his arms. Simple, effective, typical, just what he wanted for the day.

However as he made his way through the crowd towards the heart of the event, a meeting with Professor Fáfnir ended up unavoidable- but hey, he did rehearse multiple convenient excuses in his head for this scenario. ‘Finished all my work and training so I wanted to check out the commotion!’, ‘Was doing some air patrol and spotted a large crowd!’, ‘I'm waiting for a friend who’s taking too long to come back!’ and so on, yet thankfully none of these excuses were necessary. The professor didn’t seem interested in chastising him for gallivanting around when he should’ve been at least training.

Something within those sharp eyes told him he wasn’t off the hook completely, though.

“Do you like horse riding? Is there any horse in the competition you’re feeling confident on? I bet you got a good reading on those!” Sylvain made quick work to try to spark up a conversation, anything that could soften up a possible scolding or worse. Fáfnir had always felt a little unsettling to him one way or another- the man seemed nothing short of severe, but surely he must have hobbies right? Why else would he be in an event like this?

So maybe if he managed to figure out what the man liked, then the ginger could turn a potential nagging into maybe a bond. Maybe.

And this?

soren's normal resting face is rather harsh, but at sylvain's ‘jokes’ it softens into one more perplexed than anything.  Is he seriously flirting with him?  soren had heard of sylvain - who hasn't, at garreg mach? - but the current situation the two find themselves in seems entirely not the place for such statements, jokes or otherwise.

he makes an effort to put his usual expression back on.  Sylvain said he would stop, so soren has no reason (as of yet) to try and make him.

“i don't particularly care.  Understanding lancework or horse riding can help me in other areas, though i'm not entirely sure a ‘private training session’ is something i'm looking for.”

his voice, as ever, is terse, even though he's trying to be amiable.  As amiable as he can be, at least.  “My specialty is in wind magic.  In tellius, we make clear distinctions between the three types of anima spells, dark magic, light magic, and staff use.  We also rely on the commanding and conjuring of appropriate spirits to facilitate our spells, so learning the equations in which reason - as it is called here - is based from a native's perspective does have value to me.”

Standing here, in a position where he’d be stared at and analyzed by another- regardless if it’s a student or teacher, was nothing short of uncomfortable. If it were one of his closest friends then maybe he could even take it easy and play around more, but it wasn’t the case.

But amidst the bubbling stress within his core, a spark managed to quiet down the waves just a little- curiosity.

As Soren spoke of how magic seemed to function on his homeland, Sylvain found himself inevitably drawn to the explanation and wishing to hear more of it even if the entire assignment originally meant for him to be the one leading the knowledge exchange. “Conjuring appropriate spirits? That’s pretty cool actually, our reason magic doesn’t work that way though. In Fódlan, reason is based on logical thinking and standardized formulas, like mathematics. If you’re able to put together and solve a spell’s formula and channel energy into it, you’ll cast it successfully.” The ginger closed his arms, adjusting his jacket’s rolled up sleeves. 

“That also means you really gotta stay focused, because if you mess up the formula or flub its resolution, the spell can go haywire or just not work at all. Reason is pretty hard if you're the type who gets distracted.”

An index finger tapped at his chin, humming. “Faith is a different deal, though. It’s less about logic and more about belief. Most people just channel their faith on the Goddess to cast a faith spell, but that belief can be in anything, really. It just needs to be powerful and solid enough for you to be able to turn it into energy. But as a result it can really wear you down emotionally, and if you’re feeling hopeless it can mess up your casting.” As if to illustrate his point, a warm glow began pooling at the center of his open palm, hinting at the beginnings of a Seraphim spell. It was snuffed out before the casting was completed, as they were still inside the classroom and he’d rather not blow up the ceiling.

“And when it comes to offensive and healing faith spells, it just depends on how you wield your sense of belief- whether it’s to save someone, or to attack. I’m better at the latter though.” Sylvain then glanced over at his 'student', seizing him curiously. "If you gotta draw in spirits for your spells, which ones do you call?"

Maybe that’s why he felt no interest in pursuing or teasing either of them, after all. Perfectly harmless, undeserving of his claw and bite.

Innes was, in theory, much the same- he was a man, so he had frankly no reason to ever consider Sylvain as anyone to take as a partner as there was nothing to gain from it.

“Hey, so when’s the dinner date?” Yet, he was drawn to him regardless, stepping in front of the other man and blocking the path with a laid back stand, arms raised as his hands rested at the back of his head, and an easy smile sitting perfectly in his features. One that was a little too genuine. “And if you think playing hard to get is gonna dissuade me, then you’re in for a rude awakening! This boy’s a chaser!” A playful wink was added to the velvety mix, one that lacked sugary poison.

Innes was glad the ordeal was over. There was homework to catch up on, studying to get through, and well-deserved rest to be had. He gathered his things, ready to leave, when he turned around and saw Sylvain.

Being side-by-side on flying mounts was one thing. It was another to be so up close and personal with the other man. Sylvain blocked his path, and there was no way Innes could sidestep past him. Innes clutched the fake Creiddylad to his chest, trying to formulate a plan of escape. He doubted he could still cast spells with the tome out of the arena, but he could still try.

It was only when Sylvain spoke that Innes realised the man wasn't threatening him: he was toying with him.

Innes was familiar with courting, in theory. He was trained in courting noble women, trying to charm them, and all that would entail. Flirting, a more common way of courtship, eluded him. Even if Sylvain were serious, which Innes was certain he was not, he still would have no idea how to handle the situation.

"Dinner? I never agreed to it - I only said that I have high standards. In any case, it would be inappropriate for us to go on a date. I do not indulge in dalliances, especially with..." Innes couldn't look at Sylvain, not even for a moment. Even then, his words were a lie, but Sylvain didn't need to know that.

"I'm sure you have better things to do than to try and bully me, no?" The tips of Innes' ears were bright red.

If Sylvain were serious, Innes would truly have no idea what to say. He was undoubtedly very handsome, but that hardly made them being 'together' a good idea. How could he possibly explain this to anyone in his life?

He wondered which way Innes would lean. “Inappropriate? Hey hey, what are you talking about? I can’t see what’s so inappropriate about two guys going on a dinner together, like…people hang out sometimes! Friend stuff!” The tone was easygoing- almost too much so, coated in faux innocence. “Unless you really want it to be a date, in that case it can be arranged! Sylvain comes in all sorts of colors and forms, your pick!” A wink wrapped it all up in a neat bow, quietly wondering if Innes even knew what a friend hangout was if he was so ready to go for the ‘inappropriate option’. That, or…

Maybe his advances were effective? Much to think about. Sylvain was willing to bet on it, a mischievous smile plastered onto his face no matter what the archer says, though one thing about it was true: despite the layer of varnish, of sweet and almost pearlescent topcoat, were grains of honesty. Small, some nearly transparent and hard to spot, but present.

“Bully you? You say some funny stuff, Innes. And things are pretty boring right now, so I wanna do something exciting. What’s better than to get to know someone I like?” He did have nothing to do- all the homework and written assignments sat piled up atop his desk finished and neatly organized, and most of the books he had been reading were either finished or almost there.

They just finished that training exercise so no use in going for more, and he simply didn’t feel like doing anything else.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat together! Gimme a chance, I don’t bite!”

There could be two reasons for this.

They're simply too powerful (this is possible, if Innes is honest), or, more likely,

The church thinks it appropriate to mock them with pathetic opponents.

Innes grits his teeth. What kind of win is this if they can just squish the enemy like bugs? No doubt Ayra is powerful, but this feels too easy. Even at a disadvantage with a weapon Innes doesn't know, he still thinks he could tear the opposing group like paper. He readies his spell, when-

Oh. Good. Sylvain is back. Where is the harm in biting back this time?

"You will have to do much better than that - I'm afraid I also have standards." He cuts a glance at Sylvain. "I do not buy dinner for just anyone. And in any case, I am supposed to be a married man." He thinks, anyway. He cannot tell.

"And," Innes says, gearing up his spell, "I never said I was interested in you."

the fact that she seems to be the only one to struggle in any manner with her (very chosen) opponent does hurt a little, though. just a tad.

even riding her mount into the fight nel is able to catch her with her magic. her mount pulls back against her will, but somehow timerra manages a blow to the woman’s chest with her sword. really, things go far too fast for her to completely tell what happened.

which usually doesn't happen. yikes. looks like she needed to sharpen her mind still. 

she could tell innes was helping her, at the very least. “are you gonna let him blow you off like that, sylv?” she still laughs, if a little more fake than usual. 

but, well… as long as they can't tell she’s rather disappointed in herself right now.

He’d rather not suffer any slow down or get knocked to the ground and made into a prey for easy pickings, thank you. And so, he had to play the slow game with his attack. A small part of him wondered what his Father would think of this approach, considering he also had no means to conceal his appearance- only deceive the enemy into thinking he’s not targeting them.

“But I’m a persistent man, and charming hearts is my specialty! How about this: you go on a dinner date with me if I save you?” A wink was directed at Innes alongside a kissy face, all while one hand held onto the reins and ordered his mount to advance in a surprise attack the moment his foe passed by behind Innes’ location. The griffon then swerved around his ally, avoiding the green haired man by the brush of a feather, putting Sylvain within the perfect range to bring down his blade aiming at the enemy’s neck.

A single clean slice was all it took for the imitation to fall apart, inching their team closer to total victory. “There we go! I knew we could do it, relics involved or not!” Luckily despite the weapons they had been dealing with, the battle itself went smoothly.

That means…

“So, Innes! I just saved you right now, that guy was right behind you! Dinner date with me? Give lil' Sylvain here a chance!"

Flirting?!

That is most certainly not what Innes is doing! Sylvain is only making strange comments to throw Innes off his game. It isn't flirting. Innes wants to throw Creiddylad at Sylvain, but there are much bigger fish to fry, and more pressing matters.

For example, why has the arena shifted into something more ethereal and starry? Innes looks down at himself. Why is he in full wedding regalia? What in the gods' name is going on?

There isn't much time to think. He recognises one of his opponents: Sanaki. She's in his class. He doesn't know her, not really, but he knows enough that he's hesitant to strike her down. No matter: there are four others on the field.

Three, if you ignore Timerra's command. But Innes won't.

(If anything there is ample reason for her to give this her all, after her poor showing — to say the least — the previous round. Needless to say, she would have jumped into the fray unasked.)

And so she doesn’t chide the students for their bickering and superfluous chatter this time but locks eyes with the girl wielding that lance. Had she not been mentioned, Ayra might well have targeted her anyway: Lances have an advantage over swords that she will not brook when most of her students wield the latter, and her own is well-suited to mounted opponents besides.

Since Sylvain did mention that particular lancer, she will of course be going all out. The other foe she had in mind has received her Astra for one thing, and for another she could best him with no effort as she is now: her body and her sword (or her body as an extension of her sword) seem weightless for her divine gift. She will not waste it on a lesser enemy.

“ Let’s see you handle this! ”

With a war cry she rushes the girl, slashing first at the mount to force it to fly lower and then at the rider. The illusory foe is gone in an instant, dissipating into nothingness after three strikes. Needless to say Ayra finishes her combat art all the same, not for the sake of artistry — though she does pride herself on that — but simply for what it demands. Trying to halt Astra would be as futile as trying to halt a comet.

And the same could be said of the swordmaster herself: Although she could have left their three foes to her students, one to each, she hears the blade-song too clearly to ignore. It thrums in her blood, decides the rhythm of her heartbeat and overtakes her every sense. Her sword wreathed in starlight, she whirls about with all the force of a gale and strikes a certain presumptuous fool without pause — and without mercy.

“ The real man at least managed to land a hit, ” she says coolly, then strikes again to finish this mirage off. Her stance changes to defensive as she calls, “ That’s it for my help, the rest is up to you three. Strike quickly and decisively! ”

The second was merely personal. That was the monarch’s weapon in his homeland, the lance whose power he’d abide to for the rest of his life. Seeing it being wielded by a nobody, a fake person even, felt almost blasphemous in his eyes. “Look at her go! You’re really pulling the weight here, Professor Ayra!” Behind the usual cheer and flirt was a well concealed bitter flavor aimed not at the professor but her victim. Serves you right.

With that done though, the next target for his gaze was of course, Innes.

“C’mon, still all cold and hard to get? You’re lucky I like a challenge!” It was amusing that even Timerra seemed to join in, though he had to admit he wasn’t sure whether she really thought they were flirting or merely adding to the joke.

But then again, some flirting - real or not - never hurt, right? Even more towards a fellow guy who was definitely a noble and therefore had nothing to gain from taking him as a partner. Flirting was like a knife to be wielded, its jagged edge turned towards girls who eyed him like a prize and the blunt side towards anyone else who Sylvain didn’t register as a nuisance. Innes was on the side of the blunt edge. Disregard the racing heart, of course- but flirting always felt thrilling when Sylvain was actually into it. “What do you say, Innes? I want a dinner before everything goes down, got it? I’m a man with standards as much as I like your eyes and your pretty face!”

She has seen one of their number before, very recently at that. She fought the man, in fact, for he saw fit to insult her. She won, true, but that does not mean she’d forego a second match.

(It is easier to ignore her dread, to tuck it away, while she listens to the blade-song over the wild beat of her heart: a heart which should not beat at all, perhaps closer to whatever powers these shades than to anything human. That they are not Deadlords — for those they mimic yet live — is little comfort, and the fact that most of them are strangers to her even less so.)

“ So we are to face the other participants in this arena, ” she says, gripping the hilt of her sword. “ Remember, these are illusions. If any of them are familiar, do not let that deter you. ”

This was a battlefield however, so it was ultimately short-lived as his mount took flight. “Hey, what’s this thing? It almost looks like the beast in the flag of Faerghus!” It was an animal that didn’t exist in Fódlan proper, or at least Sylvain had never seen it outside of book illustrations and religious gravures. Blessed with the strength of a lion and the wings of an eagle, the creature looked straight out of fantasy- and the heir couldn’t help but admire it. “This feels awesome! I wonder what Father would think if he saw me riding the symbol of the Kingdom…though I think this is a spot much more deserved for His Highness.” Quietly musing to himself, it took him a moment to realize a few things:

His sword changed for some reason. It was still Yato, but it looked…weird? With spikes all over, like a saw.

Innes was dressed like he was ready to get married.

Their enemies were fakes of people they knew.

One of them was wielding Areadbhar.

It wasn’t Dimitri though. It was some random girl.

Another was wielding Lúin.

And it definitely wasn’t Ingrid.

Right, it was a bit too much to keep track of if he had to be fully honest. “Woah. Alright, head in the game Sylvain. Uh, Professor Ayra, Timerra!” As he called out to his allies with a wince, honey gaze fell upon a specific foe- a weird little creep, Henry was it? Who for some reason was wielding The Spear of Assal. The Spear of Assal. “I suggest doing something about that girl with the big scary lance! I know that weapon personally and lemme tell you, you really don't wanna get hit by that. In the meantime…”

Two relics and a sacred weapon. He could take on the latter on his own, he thought. “I’ll go for this other friend here! His lance is also pretty scary, but I can handle it!”

Gripping Omega Yato’s hilt tightly, Sylvain flew past his companion dressed like a groom- offering a wink. “Hey, already all dressed up? Didn’t even take me to dinner. It’s rude to rush, you know.” Before Innes could say anything however, Sylvain took to the skies once more, his sights now fully fixated on Non-Henry.

Damn, why did they give them all the meanest relics in his country? Now he could only wonder who ended up getting the Lance of Ruin.

The glint of metal catches her eye and she takes a step forward, half stumbling for the resistance that some — some part of her puts up for untold reasons — no Isaachian would stand on the field without a sword, so why —? With one hand still clutching at her head, she reaches for her blade with the other...

Only to find a wolf in her path. Neither beast nor rider frighten her, although the growls are more understandable to her than the words; but she has no time to push past them before the... the knight... (that seems wrong, somehow) lifts her staff to cast some manner of spell —

— and Ayra’s mind fractures under the strain of holding back. Her collapse is quiet, borne with gritted teeth: so quiet, in fact, that it might have gone unseen if not for the way she sinks to one knee, the hand that ought to have grasped her blade cut open by sharp stone instead.

She sucks her breath in, but before she can rise again the night envelops her and the chill seeps into her bones, isolating her from the world just as the haze o'er her mind begins to recede. And then the demon weaves that terrible spell again, breaking what little remained of her pride, and a wet gasp slips past her lips at long last.

after the huge mega attack from this guy it was starting to look like a losing battle, and timerra knew they weren't going to last much longer. still, it's a little bit frustrating to end it there. she sighs, flicking her sword out. it wasn't gonna do much, but if she could at least help her allies win in the end she'd do just that.

"keep watch on ayra for me!" she calls out to said allies before going all in. her arms are tired, and her wolf seems keen on going to sleep as soon as possible. she's never felt like this so quickly before, and concludes in her mind that it must be this creature's magic sapping her strength somehow.

for all that she tries, she can't even hit the enemy one last time before they all descend on her with their dark magic. she barely manages to steer her wolf out of the way of one with what little strength she has.

the rest happens like a chain reaction. her wolf is hit first, causing him to panic and drop her. she barely manages to land safely before another ball of dark aura hits her and throws her back to the ground. timerra hisses in pain, but still somehow manages to smile anyway.

"sorry guys! i'm all outta.... juice...!" she laughs even as she falls to the ground. both her sword and her staff clatter to the ground next to her.

she wishes she had been at least able to kill another one of those bastards before she was down and out— but things don't always go a planned, do they?

laying on the ground of the pavement with her wolf hovering over and whining in worry, timerra closes her eyes and allows herself to rest.

It was only a glance- a mere second where he saw Timerra fall to the ground defeated after a brutal onslaught from the enemy, before the world became a chaos of flashing darkness. He was completely disoriented, vision stuck between a thick dark haze where the enemy became a series of elaborate blurs and an impossibly strong dizziness that seemed to affect even his own mount urging Sylvain to forgo any and whatever plans to act for the moment and focus on not accidentally plummeting to the ground and joining Timerra in her demise.

Demise? She wasn’t really gone, right? This was just an exercise. She was fine. “Dammit, it keeps messing up with my eyes!” For a moment the spell casted upon him differed- a cold claw gripping down on his spine and draining him of energy in a way that felt far too similar to getting struck head on by a Nosferatu. Before Sylvain could even make sense of it however, the flashing darkness resumed and he forced his drake to land at the nearest corner they could reach.

“Argh…great, now my head’s killing me.” It was through the growing migraine that his body fully froze in place, a grim cloud looming over as his eyes finally adjusted to the battlefield again. Timerra was up and running, except her actions seemed off.

Her entire being seemed off. This wasn’t the girl he had playfully winked at or seized not long ago, who held herself together fine in battle while keeping a warm, cheery disposition that would’ve been infectious if he hadn’t been up in the air. This looked wrong, and his mount noticed it as well as it hissed in her direction and attempted to flare out its wings to seem bigger and more threatening.

Confusion with a dash of fear took over his heart. “Hahah, hey…what’s up with that? Timerra?” Should he call out for her? Maybe she was just messing around- but Professor Ayra was also acting all sorts of off earlier because of an attack, too. “Get it together, Timerra! What are you doing?” Not wanting to let desperation color his voice, Sylvain took to the skies again while trying to keep his eyes on the girl- despite the doubled vision.

She was fine. This was just going to be a temporary effect, and she'd be just fine later. He had to believe that- because otherwise the implications would be far too much to face alone.

it’s when she sees the professor clutching her head in agony that the creature gets the best of her. she doesn't shout out for ayra but somehow it knows.

she gasps as she’s knocked off her wolf by a blow of dark magic, the wind knocked out of her. she stumbles to the ground, just barely avoiding hitting any of the fragile parts of the body. “Ouch..!” she hisses to herself as she pushes herself off the ground, her wolf rushing to her side with worried whines. 

“i’m okay boy.” she smiles to her wolf as genuinely as she can. for being an illusion he sure acts like a real solm wolf. unfortunately for timerra it’s a moment of vulnerability for the monster to act on.

she freezes completely, mouth slightly open. her wolf whines, circling around its master and wondering why she isn't moving at all.

He watches as dark magic knocks into Ayra, knocks Timerra from her mount, and another blast comes straight towards him. He manages to move out of the way, just in time, to watch the magic explode in a wall behind him. Had he not moved, the magic could have struck him.

He looks to Timerra, who cannot move. She's hurt. He pulls the staff strapped to his back free, and points it to Timerra. With this, he can protect her. He can't save her from her paralysis, but he can make sure another blow won't kill her.

Frustration and worry began to bubble within his chest, and Sylvain had to change plans for the time being. That was when he glanced at a nearby clone- limping, already damaged by Innes’ own work. “We just gotta keep bringing them down then, eventually it’ll get the memo.” The ginger finished it off, attention away from the screeching creature and instead focused on his allies. “Or at least I hope it does. This battle is teetering a little too close to the edge of what’s manageable, I think. Not that I wanna be a pessimist about it, but…”

He glanced back at Innes, finally processing his words. “This? No healing here, sorry. I checked it and it’s only for protective wards. It would’ve been a little too good to be true if it could do both.” Though it did have a secondary function- for whatever reason, just by holding it he could sense where each and every one of his teammates were even if he couldn’t see them.

Once the coast was clear, Sylvain tried approaching Timerra again. “Timerra! How’s it looking down there?”

"professor ayra!?" she gasps, pushing her sword up only to defend and deflect the strike against her. what was she was doing!?

then ayra falls back, and timerra watches the sword clatter to the ground. her expression turns to serious worry. the professor had gotten her out of danger when she thought she was seeing merrin on the battlefield. she only owed the same, even if she wasn't sure what ayra was seeing in her.

"don't worry professor, i got you!" timerra pulls lightly on the reigns, calling her wolf to a hault in front of the woman for a moment with the tug and a short whistle. "i'm not sure what kind of magic that thing used but… we'll take care of these things. stay back until you can really shake it off." a genuine smile tugs at her lips as she nods towards the woman, then moves straight back into action.

so these bastards wanted to pit them against each other, huh? not on her watch. fog rolls back into view, but timerra uses the pinpoint senses of her wolf to sniff out the real monster. automatically does her hand grasp at the fracture staff strapped to her waist.

"you can stay down!" she hisses, pointing the staff at it and casting fracture without even a second of thought. the creature stumbles backwards and falls, vulnerable.

"innes, sylvain!" she barks both their names, steering her wolf closer to both. "we gotta take those clones out! the less we're dealing with the better!"

And it's only then that he notes something has happened to their professor.

Ayra has been struck by the enemy. Innes doesn't have the time to really do much to help, but there's nothing he can do, either. He can only heal wounds, nothing else. He looks to Sylvain, wide-eyed. It's not as if Sylvain can do anything, either.

They must press on.

Creiddylad activates for him once again, and a circle of light cuts around the enemy, before exploding into bright white shards. The clone disappears, almost like it had never been there in the first place.

"If we can remove the last clone, we will stand a far better chance," Innes says.

It was almost as if it had gotten into her mind somehow, ravaging through her brain and forcing her into a mindless minion that locked onto Timerra as soon as it could. Sylvain had fought all sorts of enemies so far in life, but something that could snake into one’s mind like that was both new and nothing short of horrifying to witness.

“Hold on, we can do that later.” Though Innes’ input made sense, his focus was on something else. A quick pat down his clothes led him to an odd clipboard with similar properties to a tome, radiating magic that he could already identify just by its wave. Timerra was too far away and Ayra was compromised so his sights were set on Innes.

Although far from a perfect casting, through an extended hand he was able to aim at the other man and place a spell that enveloped both him and his mount. “We gotta attack the clone yeah, but we won’t be attacking anything if it’s able to get inside our heads and make us crazy like that. I set a ward that’ll protect you from whatever nonsense that guy over there ends up trying if it looks at you weird.” He looked down once more, frowning.

“I wanna see if I can do the same for Timerra, then we’ll figure something out for Professor Ayra! They're more important than that enemy! C’mon!”

okay yeah, it did remind her of sombron and that was a little fear inducing but she was hardly afraid to the point of not being able to move. she’s actually a little bit offended that they think so little of her!

while ayra heads straight for the huge monster her wolf barks at her, snapping her into action. he clearly is offended they thought she was afraid too. wolves– at least the ones that come from solm– are attuned to their master’s emotions after all.

 “alright boy, let’s show them what wolf knights are made of! she smirks, hopping on her mount with ease. she doesn't need this whole illusion thing to know how to ride a wolf! “innes, you're gonna be the one hiding behind me!” she taunts him directly because its his comment that offends her the most,

and sylvain… is just being sylvain. timerra decides to ignore him for the moment. 

“let’s go!” she commands with a snap of her reigns with one hand. princess of solm heads directly into battle after ayra with her sword drawn bravely outward. ayra’s command of the sword is impressive– and strangely timerra finds herself really wanting to wow the woman. 

His gaze cuts to Sylvain. "Will you cease your incessant winking? This is a battlefield, not a bar. Do not make me warn you again."

Would Innes be deducted points for maiming an ally? None of this is real, so it's not like it would matter. He thinks back to Sylvain's comment - eyes like jewels.

No. He keeps his eye on their professor, who cuts effortlessly into the enemy. Impressive, really. While the main body is a very real threat, they ought to take care of the clones - it's one less enemy for them to fight.

The pages of Creiddylad flicker as the words on the page call to him. He will not sing, but he will hum as he casts. It keeps him focused, somehow. The song calls to him, like the embrace of an old friend.

“Easy, easy.” He muttered to the drake in an attempt to calm it, though he lacked the skills to even handle these mounts properly. Thankfully it seemed to understand his efforts and began flying more steadily as Timerra and Professor Ayra began their assault on one of the creature’s bodies. That left him with…

A small smirk. “Ouch, he’s ice cold!” The ginger was quick to call out to his thorny companion, taking his comments in stride. He heard much worse from Felix anyway. “But I love that the most, you know. The ones hard to get?” Despite his words and flirty tone, Sylvain did keep one eye on the battle at hand- not letting an opportunity escape and striking down on the same creature Innes struck. It was nothing more than a clone, yet its elimination seemed to affect the main body judging by the shrill screech he heard across the battlefield.

“So I’m guessing It really doesn’t like when we destroy its little puppets? Good to know!”

timerra can't help but grin as she gives her little guy the most generous scritches ever and doesn't pay attention to the conversation the others are having. just because he wasn't necessarily real doesn't mean he didn't deserve to be pet.

she's knelt downward to her wolf's height when they all finally materialize into the next setting. solm's princess looks up, blinking at the enemies they face.

she sincerely hopes she's seeing things.

"uh, guys?" timerra hurries to catch their attention, pointing to the huge demon-like figure that reminded her just a little to much of sombron. (it probably didn't help that this illusionary place had given her the same feeling from way back... )

"are you seeing what i'm seeing?"

His eyes flicker to where Timerra is looking. "Yes, I do see that." It isn't real. None of this is, so there's no need to panic. Innes readies Creiddylad, flicks its pages open.

This time, unlike the last, he reads the pages. He doesn't know the language on the pages, loopy and long-legged, but he can understand it. Speak it, even.

Sing it.

Maybe his magic senses could use more honing, or maybe this was magic from Kamui’s homeland and therefore nothing Sylvain would be able to identify immediately like Tsubaki was able to just now. To him, the blade was behaving normally- never once did he feel that it reacted oddly to his body, or seemed to be charged with energy he felt threatened by.

“I sure hope nothing happens to me for holding some cursed replica sword! I’m smelling pretty good though, I didn't think perfume would be considered part of my equipment this time around.” He had to play the role of a royal, after all. But something about his look made him wonder if this was really in line with what Kamui usually wore? This was a bit too…somber, wasn’t it? Kamui always seemed to prefer clothing in lighter colors, at least from what Sylvain could remember from the times he spotted him in the distance. 

Maybe this perfume was his favourite at least. In that case, Sylvain wanted its name later for future purposes. For now however, the cursed sword was forgotten in favor of his newest preferred pastime- Innes and giving as many winks and distant smooches to Timerra and professor Ayra as he could. “How are we doing, huh? Ready to fight the big boy demon himself? Don’t worry my beauties, Sylvain’s gonna show how it’s done!”