Lady of Nightmare

Carina shrieks, still rushing to get to the girl's side, even though it was far too late by this point. The swordswoman's blade cuts into her relentlessly, with a fierceness and ferocity that seemed alarming for the illusory battlefield they'd been thrown into. This was supposed to be training, the bull thought. Not... not this...

She can only think of comrades felled by shadow beasts, either burned alive or impaled upon weapons of darkness, her own tears just barely held back as she was forced to escape and leave them behind.

As her horse nears Ninian's fallen form, Carina instinctively reaches for the satchel at her waist, only to realize she doesn't have her usual potions or medicines, nor could she call forth the healing magic that she's used to pull her friends from the brink of danger many times before, back home.

All she'd been good for was hacking away with her axe. And now, when it came to actually helping her allies, she was—she was useless...!

But none of it mattered.

Before she knows it, the petite girl with the sword is rushing her now, and Carina doesn't even get the chance to lift her weapon before the savant's blade tears through her side, knocking her off her horse and into a pool of her own blood.

She was... dying. Or it felt like she was. Carina knows she'll wake up after this, just fine, but—

Weakly, the bull reaches in the direction of Ninian, though it'd do her no good.

Sorry, she thinks. She'll do better—be better—the next time.

How terrible, She should talk to her team after this- she cant imagine that they're going to feel good after all this.

Her magic doesn't seem to hit her enemy again, and by some miracle the enemy seemed to have missed her as well. "Randal-" her voice is urgent, yet strangely calm "I don't think we're going to make it past this round" She admitted, looking away for a moment as to not face the shame.

As a professor- this was a poor way of showing her worth, and now.... well. Dying wasn't new to Freyja- she had experienced it so many times before. Even if she knows they'll be just fine, its still hurts. She'll be thinking about this a lot while recovering.

But now wasn't the time for chatter—even with one of them gone, there was no telling what the rest of the shadows had in store.

Best to take 'em out before they could learn!

Carina locks onto the one with the lance, lips curling into a smirk as she tightens her grip on her axe. Swordsmen were pretty nimble and tricky, but she could handle lances just fine.

"Hup!" She kicks her horse at its sides, guiding it into a gallop towards the enemy. Axe raised, Carina swings down and strikes the lancer in the arm, causing it to stumble back in pain... or maybe an imitation of it, since the shadow wasn't real.

She doesn't dwell on the thought, however, using the newfound opening to bring her axe down again, this time slicing the shadow in its side. Not enough to eliminate it, but from the way it was stumbling, she'd come pretty close.

"This one's almost down!"

Yet clearly something is wrong with her- she felt her head spinning, her body wobbling slightly. The only thing that could have this effect on her besides illness would be.... exhaustion? It was almost embarrassing to admit but.... maybe age had finally caught up to her?

Oh, people are looking at her- it's her time to attack. So Freyja does what she usually did, lifting her arm up expecting magic to strike the weakened enemy down, but nothing happened. It was anticlimactic, and Freyja felt the heat of her embrassment rise.

"I'm... Sorry- I can't seem to concentrate"

At least it's all simulated, or something. Little reason to be choked up, just annoyed. Would he feel choked up if it was real, though? He doesn't bother pursuing that train of thought. He'll grace it with half-hearted revenge, instead.

One hit, two. Not particularly strong ones but ones that meet their mark, and consistently. It's enough to feel productive, particularly when the marks ricochet back to that void of a rider, and Randal rolls his shoulders back.

"Take a breather, why don'tcha!" he calls teasingly to Ninian's crumpled form. "Let th' old guy handle this."

Nothing was expected of her- and she could just attack freely.

But her being lost in her mind didn't let her notice that the enemy had focused its efforts on her. Freyja was caught completely off guard. The weight felt on top of her was crushing- she didn't even have the time time to react before she felt the world spinning.

Everything hurts- but she certainly is alive, she could barely move. She just needs a moment to recover- that's all.

That Ninian cares should be admirable. Randal simply sighs and tilts his head. "Ain't nothin' I can say to that," he shrugs. "Thanks for the heal, by the by!"

Because for every person as different from he as Ninian, there's a Carina.

Her bloodlust is admirable. The source of it, whether it be a simple love or battle or something Randal can't afford the context for, is beyond him. He rues the fact that he cannot feel the same lovely impact as she with her axe, cannot savor the rampage she so clearly enjoys the taste of. Pros and cons, as it were.

"There'll be no letting," Randal hums. Once again, he pulls at the book: it is the gift that can't stop giving, it seems.

Bolt after bolt after bolt it rains, with surprisingly consistently strong impact. He almost wants to say: hey now, you're gonna set up expectations, but he doesn't want to bother. The fun of it is lovely enough.

The mutt skids and growls at him, and he almost feels bad- save for the fact that despite Ninian's heals, the ghost-wounds still ache. Figures!

Well , that is sadly in the past, and she has learned that her actions do unfortunately have consequences. The silence was noticeable- maybe, she didn't intend on it, but she didn't have anything else to say really.

All she could do now was focus up, and deliver the damage that she needs to do. Magic flies, attacks hit on a the giant foe making a growing sense of pride bubble with in her. Her ability to wield magic still hadn't dulled one bit... though, she was feeling a tad jealous of the sheer power everyone else has !

Not for the first time, she wonders which of the Eight Legends brought her mother down. She hopes it wasn’t Roland: to die by fire is a terrible thing, all the more so for an ice dragon.

Yet the enemy before them is not a dragon, she must remember. The enemy before them is not even real. (The world in the mirror wasn’t real either, not in the strictest sense, and she loved Adaline no less for that.) Dame Carina needs to recover still, Sir Forde is weighed down by his armor, Sir Randal is struggling with his tome again and Lady Freyja has just withdrawn after damaging the knight’s other arm, so...

The next strike falls to her. With a shuddering breath she draws Lord Ryoma’s blade, the pride of Hoshido, from its sheath and tells herself that she landed every strike before. That the Spirit of Thunder will guide her sword arm.

But to think of her arm as such makes her gut churn with disgust, and the realization that she is relying on Thor’s assistance to wield human made weapons — that is, the weaponry which felled countless of the Spirits’ believers — does worse yet. Not only is she unworthy of Raijinto itself, but she is also a complete sham of a High Priestess for the Dragon’s Shrine.

Ninian’s strike is made haphazardly, a desperate attempt to seem less pathetic, but it misses its target by far. Thor has scorned her, just as she deserves, so much so that she fails as a dancer in the next moment: She missteps, her attempt at a swing ill-timed, and the knight’s sword arm comes bearing down on her with a vengeance.

In the aftermath of that piercing lunge she is left sprawled upon the grass, having fallen on her stomach and lost her grip on her — no, on Lord Ryoma’s blade on top of that. She hauls herself back to her feet without so much as a whimper, but she does not make for the sword.

Quite the opposite: She grips its sheath at her waist and throws that down too, Hoshido’s pride be damned. She is a dragon, trapped in this frail body thanks to humans, and she will not wield their weapons even if she fights beside them.

“ I am well, ” she says to no one in particular, a newfound firmness in her voice, “ but I have my own pride. I will wield a sword no longer. ”

The sword had to go down at this point, even if she's not the one to strike it down. At least the pride of defeating the enemy can be shared between all of them.

The 'tome' felt natural in her hands at this point. The metal frame that held the gem in the center felt like it was waiting for Freyja's touch. The magic itself didn't feel as strange as the start. "Randal- I'm trusting that you can extinguish the flame from this monster" Freyja called out- turning towards the man "You simply have to find your footing- I'm sure thats possible for you!"

She didnt have much time to think after that- as it seems the enemy has had enough of their constant attacking, and suddenly Freyja is met with a strike that pushed her back. Gritting her teeth to stop any sound from escaping her before letting out a gasp of air. "Im- fine, that... wasn't as bad as I thought"

Yet Freyja wasn't the type of person to let someone just get away with attacking her- as she quickly returned the favor! A smile spreads on her face as she feels the energy run through her body.

Instead, he turns. "Miss, you sure you ain't-"

Woe! May Randal never show concern again, lest he get shouldered by some asshole in a simulation. It's more of an annoyance than anything else, but given how much he's been smarting over the whole lack-of-wielding-skill thing lately, it doesn't bode well for the mental. He grimaces and shakes it off as best he can, turning towards the man.

Lightning flashes through the sky twice more, but he only manages one more hit despite himself. Forde's comment is nice, at least. "Thanks, ser," he says dryly, holding the book up in his hands again. "Turns out ya can teach an old dog new tricks."

He reorients himself towards the sword arm-- once, then twice. Again, he pulls lightning from the pages and swings it down. Again, the arm shakes in poison. Hey- is he getting the hang of this?

"Try not to let that confidence be your downfall" She was joking, almost. she knows oh to well about that.

It was her turn and she seemed to being a little distracted, but not enough to ruin her chances of striking the arm. As energy is sapped from her, only to quickly return to her body as if nothing happened made her tremble where she stood.

The strangest sensation, shes unsure if she'll ever grow used to it- but she does keep this idea in her mind... for the future of course.

He has no clue what this has to do with Queen Eirika, but her sword is still in his possession, alongside a pair of staves. He’ll have to figure this one out later. 

He stands, draws his blade, and rushes- er, shambles- towards the beast-wolf-warrior-knight, which obviously sees him coming and dodges the pathetic excuse of a swing he makes.

“It’s a sharp one!” He declares, pretending the failure isn’t totally his fault. “Do your best, everyone!”

Well, there's no hoping here, just taking control of the situation and making it out unscathed.

Freyja felt more confident with Kormt, a weapon she never intends on using after this- its just so... strange. Which is saying a lot considering what she usually deals with. Perhaps this could be an attempt to be in "someone else's shoes" but if Freyja was honest? She hated the way green looked on her.

"Do not worry, I feel like this will still be a breeze for us" She had confidence in them! Even if this enemy seemed intimidating at the start. When the magic fizzled out after hitting its mark- Freyja believed her words more than ever before.

"Indeed, good ser!" Randal chimes in. "And I'm not gonna be th' one keeping us from it!"

And, well, you know what happens. He does manage to get the book to 'turn on', to cast its bolt at least vaguely in the direction of the enemy. But it still arcs neatly past them, leaving them unharmed and just a bit more pissed off.

It's moments like these that Randal does figure into the certainties of fate: that it might really exist, if only because Lady Luck wills it so.

Because it's a joke now, right? Lady Luck is having a good little chuckle, a heehee haha as it were. He's had enough time to look cool, or dashing, or whatever, so dress him up in something that doesn't fit and place a tool that he could never hope to master in his hands and call it a day. Good luck, old sport!

He tucks the book under one arm, breathes, and then tosses his hands up in the air.

"Well! I'll stick to the backlines in the future, then.

"You missed?"

She didnt mean it in a rude way, just surprised- that all. Freyja looked around to the rest of her team before finally speaking "Maybe magic isn't your thing"

Whatever, She can just kill the enemy and help them move on to the next wave. "Ill finish it" It had been the first time she used this... tome? It was honestly strange looking- yet beautiful. The magic cleared their way onto the next round. "There we are, we should prepare for the next wave"

Well, that's fine. Lets focus on the topic at head instead, and after shes sure the enemy isn't going to pull any fast ones on them. Once again those ghostly orbs float their way to the target and for a moment Freyja was worried that they would've suffered a mishap as well, but it seems like she was spared. For now.

"There- that should stun the enemy enough for someone to deal a finishing blow." Freyja explained, making her way towards where she thinks Randal is hiding "Let me take a look- perhaps I can do a quick fix-"

And in that case—

Didn't that make her no better than those beasts from the Empire?

Even if Carina wanted to move, the shadowy bishop waves its arms and does... something. The air around her grows heavier, the resulting pressure pushing down and locking her into place. A sharp lance of pain soon follows—blunt projectiles, launched from one of the enemies and peppered all over her body.

Her teammates continue to fight the wave of shadows around her, some better than others, and as she watches their struggle... their setbacks, their triumphs, their determination to overcome the insurmountable...

She thinks of Prince Kurt. Alberta. Commander Gotthold.

All of her comrades that she swore to fight alongside, and reclaim her homeland with.

So what was wrong with her? That was the point. That was why she worked to become strong, and kept fighting to live another day.

Her grip on her axe tightens once more and, annoyed at herself and the enemies that had decided to jump on her, Carina lifts the axe with one hand; with a loud battle cry, she shakes off the nerves that kept her frozen, rushing forward to swing at the first shadow she could: the bishop.

Her axe cleaves through it like a knife in butter, and there's not much left of it in the aftermath. Emboldened and rejuvenated, Carina turns to her teammates. "We've got this, guys! Keep going and don't let up!"

The fear never left, of course.

It is all she can do stand still as she tries not to think of her father. She tries not to think of how undeserving of holy magic she truly is, having strayed into the darkness. She tries —

A warm voice reaches her through the fog and she blinks, missing half his words yet grateful for his care.

“ Ah... I am... fine. Thank you. ”

Ninian smiles, however timidly, and stoops to retrieve her sword. They aren’t harming anyone. They aren’t harming anyone, and her father — if he appears — will be only an illusion. She takes a deep breath, steadying her grip too.

Already? This doesn’t bode well.

“ May this... make a difference...! ”

She swings the sword again; and it lands true, striking an enemy (some manner of... sentient plant...?) down like it’s nothing.

Her eyes go wide, but for a moment, before she gathers herself. While most of her allies seem to be fighting well now, there’s one who struggles against his weapon even still. Taking advantage of the momentary peace, Ninian speaks up.

“ Um... Sir Randal? Try not to... Feel too dis— Ah! Enemies approach...! Be careful, everyone... ”

Already? This doesn’t bode well.

A new wave approaches, with three familiar faces and one new. Forde sets his sights on the tall goddess that caused his teammates so much grief before. 

“I’ll deal with this one.” He’s confident when he starts to swing his blade, but somewhere between there and it hitting her, it hesitates. It’s still a good blow, knocking the shadow back, but Forde thinks he understands what made his teammates so nervous. He thinks. His thinking distracts him from her counterattack, and he gets a facefull of light magic for it.

“I’m good!” He calls out. 

The goddess turns towards their new wave of enemies, it seems some returned for another round and Freyja knew what she had to do and who was their main target. She made her way towards the thief, sighing.

"Well, at least we're familiar with how you work." She can't let her team get taken out to this one person alone, stun the enemy and let the others do the rest take them out.

Yet the air felt rather heavy- or more like she herself felt like she suddenly had no energy to lift the tome up— it took her a moment too long to actually cast the spell. When it actually hit the enemy, Freyja sighed in relief. She wondered if everyone else felt the same thing she did or it really was exhaustion.

The goddess is gone moments later, but those who struck her down don’t seem pleased about it. 

“Good work everyone, that’s all of them!” He cheers, heading first to the woman who dropped her sword. “It’s scary, but this is all an illusion, right? No one’s getting hurt here. Well, we are. But we’re not harming anyone, are we?”

“Are you hurt? Let’s get you-” Forde remembers she’s the only one with healing magic here- “rested up before the next round, yeah?” 

That thought is halted by three more shadow figures rising from the ground. Forde sighs, it wouldn’t be that easy, would it? He turns to Ninian as he draws his sword. “If you need a moment, don’t push yourself. I’m sure we can handle these ones.” He turns to Carina. “And the same goes for you.” 

Forde runs for the closest of the new shadows, and makes a clean strike. Hopefully those other two will follow suit.

With a huff, he holds the book firmly in his hands. He positions himself between the figures and his allies, attempting to- ah, it's hard to look cool when he's wearing a dress that certainly isn't flattering for his figure. If he knew what the attire would be, he'd certainly have shaved ahead of time.

Regardless- "Thanks for the warm up! I'll try n' give my thanks in a pleasant way, yeah?"

Once more, the book's pages spin in front of him. Once more, wind pools at his feet, his hand starts to sing, he-

Yowch!

The book goes off, for once, but narrowly misses his face. A bolt of electricity surges from the pages and onto the ground beneath his feet before ricocheting back up again, dashing somewhere into the shadowy atmosphere. He gets a lovely whiff of static for his troubles and a terrible shave job.

Well, that's fine. Lets focus on the topic at head instead, and after shes sure the enemy isn't going to pull any fast ones on them. Once again those ghostly orbs float their way to the target and for a moment Freyja was worried that they would've suffered a mishap as well, but it seems like she was spared. For now.

"There- that should stun the enemy enough for someone to deal a finishing blow." Freyja explained, making her way towards where she thinks Randal is hiding "Let me take a look- perhaps I can do a quick fix-"

Not so addicting that he's loving the current circumstances, but, ah.

Equipped with perhaps the absolutely worst weapon (a book? where's the fun without the feeling of your weapon sinking into something, or at the very least, the twang of a bow? if only he could chuck this at someone!) and guilted into dressing the part because of themes or summat, Randal's decided to invest in a more behind-the-scenes play. He's always been the best at, well, bringing out the best of his allies. Or at least he likes to think this.

"Miss Carina, wassit?" he calls out to the girl who had asked him about his skill with a book before the battle had began. "You'll be quick about this, right? And, uhm," he says it almost like an afterthought as his ally gets swept aside by one of the enemy's winds, "you too, chap!"

He shrugs the cloak he's been handed further across his shoulders as the ends of the wind chase him over.

And, well, Carina would be lying if she said it didn't shake her a bit—it looked too much like those shadow beasts that flooded Ast's royal palace, the creatures of Fenris that hounded them at every turn during their frantic escape.

But it's the large, looming shape of a familiar bear that particularly sets her off. That leer in his beady little eyes, the icky growl of his voice as he identified Prince Kurt...

Ugh. Stupid bandits.

With a hefty swing of his axe, the bear kicks up a storm of wind across the field, Carina holding herself in place by stabbing the hilt of her—admittedly very creepy—axe into the ground. Some of her other teammates? Not so lucky.

"Ohhhh, I KNOW that jerk." She growls in response to Randal, "So you don't have to tell me twice! He's definitely mine."

The moment the wind dies down, Carina hefts her weapon out of the ground and rushes forward.

"Take... THIS!"

Ast's fierce bull raises her axe overhead, shouting as she slams the bone-like blade onto the shadow's chest, dragging it down further to cleave through his body. The darkness forming his shape begins to disintegrate, and with a bounce on the balls of her feet, Carina straightens back up with a heavy breath.

"Well! That felt great." She turns to the other lady with horns, her grin fading to a look of alarm. "Hey, watch out! We got enemies coming up from behind!"

"Pft... Well" Hm, perhaps she wasn't as prepared as she thought "It seems they won't be going down without a fight, that's fine- I trust everyone's ability" Freyja wasn't used to this kind of weapon but it shouldn't be too hard to use, its just magic after all.

But she should move closer right? If anything happens she would want to miss- just to be safe. The tome shakes in her hands, as a ghostly particles rise from its pages- making their way erratically towards its target. Perhaps ghosts scare everyone, because the enemy couldn't make a move.

Yet the proximity meant getting too close to his defenses, a nasty burning sensation travel up her arm, causing the goddess to jump back a little. Freyja didn't say anything- just giving a brisk nod of acknowledgement.

The Pocky Game is a game played with two people and one biscuit stick. Each end of the treat in a mouth, inches separating you and the other. Make it to the center first and you win, break the stick and you lose. Meeting in the middle? Well, it's up to the participants to decide what that is.