𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑.

The hat he's bought for his friend is a beautiful shade of purple. It flares out in all directions in a halo of protection: is not stiff, and gives sanctuary in the form of a shadow over its wearer's face. There is a light dusting of shining black gems that adorn the ribbon that encircles the base, tying in the back into a bow.

A sunhat. A gift.

He holds it in his hands as he sees Eremiya. Duessel approaches and offers it. I see you, and I protect my friends it says, but he does not want to assume they are close enough for that. He's not used to having so many companions, but it's not unwelcome -- but it is not familiar.

"I knew we were going to be outside while we open the boulders. I didn't want your eyes to hurt."

through the blurred haze of displaced emotion, she forgets what prompted the invitation. what spurred general duessel to lay the unfurling prospect of indulgence; to share a fondness not many had. it is a memory she cannot retrieve and, expectedly, distrusts.

. . . terribly anxious and dizzy, eremiya stands before him, conscious only by the grounding scratch and dig of her chipped fingernails over immortal scars. duessel extends the sunhat for her to take and, suddenly, she must unearth the realization that it truly is for her and not some semblance of an gift meant for another.

you are, at least, worth meager protection for today, it says. and eremiya swallows her snide mutter, steels her facial expression, and accepts it carefully from his hands.

a curt nod before she reluctantly forces herself to relax, not able to comprehend the impossibility of self-imposed steadiness, "i will take it." a pause. "but. . . your kindness is unwarranted, sir duessel. you shouldn't have. . ." but a gift is a gift, so she bows her head ever so slightly and raises the sunhat until it fits comfortably over her hair, an exchange for the headdress she forwent this morning.

how does it look? not uttered, merely existent within apathetic(?) eyes. thank you, but she has not the heart to allow someone else this measure of generosity.

This is the nature of debate. This is the nature of perspective.

Despite the strange shadows the two had seen the night before, darkness turns to light, and all is as if it had never happened. So Pelleas too pretends. During the daylight hours, he takes to assisting the Duke in the recipe. The power of dark magic, though greatly forbidden in many places, is tantalizing to the man here. He covets it, covets most things, and for that, Pelleas can understand the man deeply.

(Who doesn't want something, after all?)

But night time falls upon them once more, and with no sun to keep the monsters away, Pelleas lights a candle on the shared night stand between his and his traveling companion's beds.

“ Sister Eremiya, ”  he calls her name softly, with some uncertainty, exposed by the moon for the slight coward he can be even after the years of attempting to learn to speak better at the monastery. The Duke writhes again tonight, keeping him too occupied to eavesdrop upon the conversation that the dark sage poses to the bishop.  

“ You've seen how the Duke acts at night... yes? His shadow? ”

He asks more so to be on the same page of what it is they are to discuss. In coming to the Duke's home, the truth of his condition is barely a secret at this point.

“ I assume I don't have to say it, but I'll say it anyway. I imagine it must be a side effect of the potion we've been helping him refine— no, actually, perhaps a side effect is wrong to say. That implies, after all, that I think it's not intentional... ”

Pelleas, for all his cowardice, is still a scholar in his own right. He has always been a creature that seeks knowledge in his own way, even if he must dig out his own flesh and blood to unearth it.

“ It's probably more accurate to call it the price he pays for his youth, isn't it? I went to look in the library for some other texts while I was doing some research for the potion, and I found out that the Duke was born fifty years ago. But normally, that'd seem impossible, right...? ”

For the man before them, the man that smiles at them in the sunlight, looked no older than Pelleas himself. 

to be a childless mother is a monster. to be a widowed wife is a monster. to be anything but perfect and clean is the birthing place of monstrosity.

the duke, to her surprise, is not a shade of what she is. he greets them with a skip in his step and the world in his bright, doe eyes; guiding them within his workshop with all but a promise over his rosy lips. he is everything she is not, and more, so when night fell and wood splintered beneath overgrown claws, sprouted erratically from his knuckles, the irony of her envy is not lost to her.

yet he wakes and pretends and that━━━the act of forgetting and remembering, the duality of one's memory━━━is something she can understand. so she, too, pretends.

but not tonight.

darkness engulfs the entirety of the guest bedroom, shaping itself blindly over her hands as she clasps her hands and prays silently in the tongue of her master. her head raises at the crackle of a candle and, again, bows at the offer of conversation. a silent acceptance that prompts speculation of their host.

"yes, i have." eremiya does not need to remember the previous night. "the groaning and. . . writhing caught me first, before the shadow." but she saw it, and that is what matters. to her and the boy, seemingly, since he urges forward a new matter at hand; origin and intention.

she straightens a bit, stiffer yet not unkind, for she nods and watches him all until the unspoken question falls into her lap. for that, she shakes her head, "normally, yes, but assuming he is like i, the impossibility of beautification is merely a stain that magic can remove. it is alike immortality in a way, is it not?" fifty years. . . the duke is only a few years older than she, only in word and not face. in fact, he appeared only a day or moon younger than pelleas himself. though, clearly, her accidental happenstance of youthful deception (which, if asked by herself, is unwarranted, since appearing a handful of years younger is hardly worth the confusion) is little than a congraluations compared to the duke's purposeful feat.

a pause taken to wave her hand dismissively, "i simply wonder what spurred the cost of himself as sacrifice. or, rather, his whole self. which scripture in the recipe spells out the transformation. as implying that dark magic does not normally require something in return is poor judgment."

because it does, and had. it crept through the pages of her worn out tome and stuck its decrepit, selfless fingers rooted themselves to the hood of her mouth until she gave up all she was and could have been. but the final image for her, decades ago, and now, still, was the possibility of waking up, with her children at her sides, and never fearing a day where it would all be a restless, guilty dream.

". . . the duke plans to distribute the recipe to the masses, yes? would it not be wiser to covet the heirloom for conquest and not capital?" was that not the selfishness most humans were known for, both he and she included? "the price is self-imposed and yet he wishes it refined. . . fifty years of physical age altered so swiftly; so shamelessly, too. . ."

Her hands tighten around the javelin she borrowed from Emma. Elincia surges forward but the face before her is unexpected. Instead, Caspar floors the handsome gentleman next to her - probably a little harder than strictly necessary as the priest's spell collides with him. She turns her head in his direction, checking for signs of injury. Nothing serious, thank goodness, but by the time her attention returns to her opponent, the lance, her posture and grip are all wrong. The javelin's point thrusts a good thirty degrees off target and the woman's jaw clenches in frustration.

"Forgive me, Caspar. Now is not the time to get distracted," Elincia then turns to the young man she'd attempted to strike, head bowed in respect. "I'm sorry to you too, it's exceptionally poor form on my part not to give a worthy opponent like yourself my full attention. It shan't happen again."

Their battle continues, now two against two and the scent steel and ozone sizzling in the air from Lady Eremiya's magic. Her mind wanders briefly to both Edelgard in all her majestic glory and the roguish, good-humoured gentleman Caspar had sent to the medical tents. She looks forward to seeing them again soon, hopefully bold and triumphant.

More importantly at the moment, Divine Dragon backsteps on instinct to evade the javelin rushing towards him, a reminder that battles are no place or time for distractions to pull the mind astray. Light sparks uselessly at his fingertips yet again in the same breath, a retaliation with wings too clumsy to take flight still; teetering right at the nest’s edge if only he could convince it to jump.

Alear 3/5HP misses Caspar 4/5HP with Nosferatu [Roll: 3, -0HP; Caspar 4/5HP]

“Oh, uh... Apology accepted? You don’t need to bow your head like that, really...” If she’s apologizing for one missed attack, what does that say about the three he’s blundered so far?

javelin strikes the ground when it misses her assumed, temporary ally, but in a similar happenstance, he cannot summon the courage, or simply the energy, to pull taut what they both share in the forms of strings. she has recognized his inability to grasp onto nosferatu, despite the simplicity of tearing from another what you require.

and she states as much when she frowns, "are you inept with magic, boy?" a raspy growl nearly overcomes her words, but the question, in itself, is a genuine worry of ability. a near rarity to contrast his humility in the face of elincia's respectful, and not surprising, apology for all she lacked.

to that, eremiya almost smiles.

EREMIYA 2/6HP barely hits CASPAR 4/5HP and does not heal herself with nosferatu. [ roll d20 = 5; -0HP, +0HP ] CASPAR 4/5HP, EREMIYA 2/6HP

until the glow in her hand, too, splutters and croaks uselessly moments before completely seeping back into the scars of her palm and fingers. the string she pulled from caspar's aura had given and taken little, despite the clutch of her grip.

"ugh. do not damn me, now, body of mine," she scolds in a low mutter to herself, wringing her hand once digging her fingernails into her palm until crescent imprints threaten to break in retaliation to her failure.

The first thrust of this woman's magic is strong, finding herself pushed out of the way by Caspar moments later. Adrestia's princess grabs onto her shoulder, pulling her crimson cape tighter.

Then, another man pushes the Blue Lion back right in her range. It is predictable, but she does not say as much. The magic is fast and strong, nearly knocking her off her feet. The Black Eagle House is known for their magic— It is time for Edelgard to match that.

And it isn’t over until it’s over, Alear dispensing with his attempts to cast Nosferatu altogether in favor of calling for another formation change. The gap left behind by Edelgard’s departure from the field, flanked solely by the brawler and his distinct lack of ranged tactics, is surely better spent keeping their most effective attacker out of his reach. Even if it requires himself and the other man to weather more blows in her stead, similarly battered though they’ve been from the start. “This way! You’ll have a safer angle to strike at them from here!”

Alear 3/5HP shifts the Blue Lions to the left!

CASPAR 5/5HP hits EREMIYA 4/6HP with iron gauntlets. [ roll d20 = 12, 5; -3HP ] EREMIYA 1/6HP

yet, upon the recognition of his and his leader's words, those trembling lips dare to spread into a sneering smile, as sudden as the amusement shaking her shoulders and rasping laughter from her throat. there rose the canted head of the bishop, crooning before bloodied hands clutched onto her skirts and mocked the arch brow of consideration.

"do not worry, girl," mother sidestepped to join alear's strides, gaze on edelgard's swaying back, "i remember faces well, else i be remiss to forget such an image of leadership."

but pleasantries were far past the throes of battle and, swift, she took her temporary ally's word, filling in the empty space their brief triumph had granted them. though she had not given him a word of gratitude, the statement would be found in the curtness of her nod; sudden, came the followed raise of crimson stained hands in spite of the exhaustion wearing away her joints.

". . . allow me,"

EREMIYA 1/6HP hits CASPAR 5/5HP and heals herself with nosferatu. [ roll d20 = 11; -1HP, +1HP ] CASPAR 4/5HP, EREMIYA 2/6HP

those very stained hands tug taut the discovered strings of the sapphire boy's energy, crushing them within her hands until they could only seep into the cuts of her palms. not much, but any relief was more than enough to sustain her.

all before he lunged again for another━━━

She'd usually be happy to indulge him in their little duel. After all, this was a friendly competition. However, there's something unsettling about their so-called holy woman; words sharp as blades and cold as ice, gaze trained upon Edelgard as if she were a prey animal. Elincia turns her attention away from the dashing gentleman and instead knocks an arrow and aims in Eremiya's direction.

"Unfortunately, I can't ignore such a threat to my dear students." Her hand pulls the drawstring back as tight as she can before loosing the arrow. The slightest hint of a smirk plays upon the corners of her lips. "Nothing personal, of course, my dear lady."

Elincia 5/5HP attacks Eremiya 6/6HP with Steel Bow Roll d20: 10! Hit -2 damage Eremiya has 4/6 HP remaining

Her aim flies true, striking her target and hopefully drawing the woman's attention away from Edelgard, if only for a moment. Elincia waves at cheerfully with her free hand towards the priestly woman.

"Careful now - don't underestimate us. There is no weak link in this chain."

Alear 3/5HP misses Caspar 5/5HP with Nosferatu [Roll: 1 lol lmao lmfao]

“Now’s your chance!” Meanwhile Alear’s own spells continue to spark and wither uselessly, unresponsive to his command with increasing inconvenience. Dryly, he thinks it only a fitting outcome for attempting to wield stolen power like his own, but it’s all he has against the opponent restricted to close quarters combat. “Come on, work with me here...”

light flickers in the curl of her hand, though suddenly put out by the abrupt snap of a drawstring; wary a moment too late before steel pierces her bicep,

ELINCIA 5/5HP hits EREMIYA 6/6HP with steel bow. [ roll d20 = 10; -2HP ] EREMIYA 4/6HP

jerking her body to withstand the blow and splitting the scarred skin that had seen to decades of healing itself. thus, not a sound leaves her upon the brunt of pain, only clenching her jaw and clutching onto arm over the wound, fingers splayed to accommodate the spine of the arrow. apathetic eyes flit upwards, to the kind wave of the lady's hand.

then, there, comes the raspy growl scratching at her throat, bearing her teeth when she presses a nail against the wooden arrow's spine before snaping it from the rest. "your optimism exists only in light of your naivety. . ." eremiya scolds, careless as she drops the broken arrow piece to the ground. when her lips stretch to smile, blatantly like the twisted mirth darkening her countenance, it is her injured arm that she raises; hand stained by only a minor splatter of seeping blood.

"i do not underestimate in the throes of battle. . . all birds join their flock, from life unto death. and if i must tear your leader apart to begin this chain of movement, then i will."

EREMIYA 4/6HP critically hits EDELGARD 2.5/5HP with luna. [ roll d20 = 20; -4HP ] EDELGARD 0/5HPEDELGARD HAS BEEN DEFEATED !

her scarred hand does not retrace the crescent, merely commanding its image upon beck and call. and, just as before, swift and curt, the crescent fills itself whole and bursts within seconds of falling unto edelgard. the pain of her bicep flares and,

mother exhales. mocking, heather eyes dull their former blades. her trembling hand rises to clutch her arm again. "focus, boys. we are left with strays now."

She would never have made it this far without him. Her own showings in the last round had been rather lacklustre. Perhaps it simply wasn't her day but that was never an excuse not to at least try. Though she was certain that Edelgard and Caspar would excel, with or without her presence, she was determined to do her best for them. Her gaze turns to Sir Beowolf, at the ready to protect an ally. A noble sacrifice but one she might be able to prevent, should lady luck smile upon her lance.

"We can drive them back, together!" Elincia shouts, rallying herself at least as much as her students. She charges, hands clasped tightly around her lance as she strikes.

Elincia 5/5HP uses Shatter Slash on Beowolf 5/5HP Roll d20+2: 22! Critical hit. -3 damage Beowolf has 2/5 HP remaining and -1 to def/res through the next attack against him.

"Truly sorry!" Her strategy works far better than she dared hope. Honestly, she would have been pleased just to do a little chip damage to prevent him guarding one of his allies. She beams with pride, finally feeling comfortable and assured of her worth on this battlefield. "No hard feelings, sir? I shall have none if you wish to strike me in return!"

Beowolf staggered to his knees, coughing at the lance that hit him so squarely and so soundly that the bright afternoon sky filled with stars.

He held up a hand, forcing his breath to calm - Crusaders above, what in the fu - before struggling back to his feet, blinking at the shining light of the sun and the lady's smile before he offered one to her in return.

"'No hard feelings' she says - I disagree, my lady, that hurt to high fuck!" He coughed once more, feeling sick and woozy and like he wasn't paid nearly enough to be pile-drived in this way, even by the prettiest of ladies. "If you'll pardon the language. Fuck."

His knees buckled beneath him, despite his grip on the lance being true, and though he lurched forward to accept her good-natured offer to strike her back, he found the bells ringing in his ears to be a little too loud.

Beowolf2/5HP misses Elincia5/5HP with Iron Lance [Roll: 1 + 2 = 3 lol loser]

"your language is pardoned," raspy and curt, answering what was not directed upon her. "now, come, sir beowolf. bear the pain and stand. you are useless if you remain on the ground."

with her focus still partially fallen on him, mother's hands separated from where they were once intertwined; yet not far from one another when a glow began to seep from her palms. the pads of her fingers traced the image of a crescent cut through the air, settling before her in a flicker of light until the crescent became full,

and was swiftly brung down upon the pale - haired house leader in a burst of magic.

EREMIYA 6/6HP hits EDELGARD 5/5HP with luna. [ roll: d20 = 11; -2.5HP ] EDELGARD 2.5/HP

whether to provide an example for her teammates, in which both had missed their advances, or to utilize a blatant opportunity for the newly - gifted spell, the magic committed to its task and returned to seep back within her skin, simmering until its next beck and call.

"i wish to bring her down myself. tear the head from a team and the others will follow the drop," came the beginnings of eremiya's otherwise harmless growl, despite the dull yet aimed daggers of her apathetic gaze falling onto edelgard, "but i cannot focus if my allies are wounding themselves instead of others. are you well, sir beowolf? alear?"

Black Eagles Team rotated to the right.

“Don’t give up! You can do it! Get him again!” Still not confident enough to attack herself, she opts instead to cheer for her teammates success. Sticking to what she’s good at, and all that.

It doesn’t seem like any of her attacks would make even a dent on this guys armor, anyway. A stronger attacker, sure, but she’s not trained to fight. She only knows that ‘nosferatu’ spell! And she only learned that, like, a week ago! She’s determined to prove herself, but she’s not stupid.

 “Lady Elise, wish me luck,” she muttered.

She gritted her teeth, and raised her bow once more. Leveraging any and every volatile emotion for this shot she prayed would be her last, she desperately stoked the fire of her ego.

“Ohhhh,” Selena growled, “your time is UP!”

Selena 2.5/6HP hits Hector 1.5/5HP with Iron Bow (Curved Shot) [Roll: 4+2; -1.5HP] Hector 0/5HP. Hector is defeated!

The satisfaction hitting her was a fresh breeze slicing through the hot day. Breathing heavily, blood still pounding with adrenaline, she looked back at her lady’s sister.

“Of course I won.” Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

apathetic heather eyes fall to the girls before her, humming a raspy note before clasping her hands, though not ignorant to the magic tingling beneath her skin, retracing the jagged outlines of both scar and birthmark. yet, she remains unblemished from this fight besides the tears of fabric, as though never once touched.

"come, girls," a gesture of her hand; bored gaze now mocking. "you have forgotten the threat that can uphold herself. i beckon thee."

SELENA 2.5/6HP critically hits EREMIYA 5/6HP with iron sword. [ roll: d20 = 18; -2HP ] EREMIYA 3/6HP

and she is met, of course, with the bite of a blade against her chest. not fatal, no, but the strength of this swordswoman mustn't be overlooked. thus, immediately, mother's retaliation reaches out to grasp onto the space between them once she's stumbled back; tugging forth the energy torn from her.

EREMIYA 3/6HP critically hits SELENA 2.5/6HP and heals herself with nosferatu. [ roll: d20 = 20; -2HP, +2HP ] SELENA 0.5/6HP, EREMIYA 5/6HP

simple steps backward, crushing the light within her hand until it can only seep into the skin of her scarred palm. mother's smile sharpens into a wild grin, paired with the rasp of laughter scratching the back of her throat.

"again, girl!" mocking, still, and spitefully proud. "strike me. show me the ire you threw upon those boys."

As her blunder sailed high and away, she prepared another arrow. There was not even an attempt to quell her frustration, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the bow oh so tightly. Come on, it’ll hit this time for sure. But, her hands started to shake, and before she could draw back the string she gave up her determination and put away the arrow. Grumbling in resignation, she unsheathed her sword. Heavy and cold in her gloves, confidence brewed anew at her core. A deep breath blew away from her.

“Alright big guy, this time I won't miss!”

Selena 2.5/6HP misses Hector 1.5/5HP with Iron Sword [Roll: 1; -0HP] Hector 1.5/5HP

Selena deflated. "Oh, for the love of Naga..."

If she'd only stop dancing about, just out of reach, he could settle this nice and easy--

Hector 1.5/5HP misses Selena 2.5/6HP with Flaming Axe [Roll: 3; -0HP] Selena 2.5/6HP

"Blazing hells, Twinkletoes, just stand still!!"

But of course she won't. Because if he's got her pegged right, she's as bloody stubborn as he is.

He doesn't look Eremiya's way - he can't afford to at this point.

the incredulity of it all causes her hand to beckon only air and not the taut string of the swordswoman's life force,

EREMIYA 5/6HP misses SELENA 2.5/6HP and does not heal with nosferatu. [ roll: d20 = 1; -0HP ] SELENA 2.5/6HP

a fault she hangs heavy over hector's shoulders, and expresses only through the raspy grumble of her sigh, "focus, hector. . . your fruitless prancing is distracting."

“Oh, come ON!”

Selena 3/6HP misses Hector 1.5/5HP with Iron Bow [Roll: 1; -0HP] Hector 1.5/5HP

There isn’t much time to dwell on the miss though, with it still being three against two. If things remain as they are, she knows well enough there probably isn’t gonna be a ‘next time’ for her to try. So she holds her staff up towards the bird man again. “Sorry about this!”

Elise [3.5/6 HP] Attacks Naesala [1/5 HP] with Nosferatu! [Roll: 1d20 -> 17]  Hit! -1 HP (Naesala HP: 0/5) & Heals +1 HP (Elise HP: 4.5/6)

and he could but hope that the wayward arrow did not find its mark in some other poor sap somewhere on the battlefield.

He isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth overlong, mind you. Naesala goes down, and he knows the Lions' window of opportunity is fast closing with his fall.

It's not so much a matter of vengeance as one of simple pride - and one of hunger, the Ostian's yearning for battle ever soaring even now. The longer he stays in this, the longer he can fight, and the better his chances of facing Eliwood--

Hector 1.5/5HP hits Selena 3/6HP with Flaming Axe [Roll: 12; -1.5HP] Selena 1.5/6HP

Bit annoying, he finds as he swings with all his heart, that the little healer is always protected by the swordsman, but he can't blame them - he'd be inclined to operate much the same.

Knowing this could be his last hit, Hector hopes he's made it count.

"naesala!" the name leaves her before she fully recognizes that it is she who spoke it into existence. down the bird goes, struck by a hunting girl's ire. eremiya clenches her jaw but, despite staring at him and all of his injuries, in which what made him who he now fell to be, cannot pull a single thread of emotion from her heart that is not a simmering anger. and so she wears her disappointment plainly, offering only a scowl before her focus turns back to the girls before them; fresh off of a casualty.

the swordswoman is cut but not brought down to her knees, so eremiya grabs her skirts with a single hand and eyes the vacant area once upheld. "hector," narrow gaze flickers from axe to air. "come and occupy the space."

EREMIYA 5/6HP rotates the BLUE LIONS to the left.

she is quick to join his side, though that is all she does for this moment, instead speaking to hector with a rasp of command, "continue to focus on the girl before you. if she falls, the child will follow."

Selena 3/6HP hits Naesala 4/5HP with Iron Bow [Roll: 18; -3HP] Naesala 1/5HP

“Hmph. You were lucky I missed even once!” She turns back towards Elise, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. How can I be sweating already? Selena thought. As if these losers are even worth my time!

“Listen up, Lady Elise! We’re getting to the next round no matter what, alright?”

Anyway, the biggest threat (in his mind, anyway) is gone now, leaving them with... a fiery swordswoman eager to whet her blade's appetite for more (oh, he knows that look, he does, thinking back to a certain girl from the plains), a young, delicate looking healer-type, and then... his own team, which looked to be running on fumes aside from miss Eremiya.

Wow.

Hector wouldn't have bet on that outcome!

Regardless, small or not, healers are dangerous, and Hector doubts if people would have been tossed on the battlefield without knowing what they're in for.

"On your guard," he offers her in what he considers as a courtesy, and then he leaps, axe a-swinging.

Hector 1.5/5HP hits Elise 5/6HP with Flaming Axe [Roll: 7; -1.5HP] Elise 3.5/6HP

but that can only be accomplished once her own allies are on par with herself, capable of meeting the expectation head - on, without fail.

"naesala! hector!" comes her raspy call, paired with the rustle of fabric as she reaches one hand down to grasp onto the skirts of her dress. "move and adjust yourselves." and that is the only command; curt and swift.

EREMIYA 5/6HP rotates the BLUE LIONS to the right.

away from the swordswoman, eremiya wisely retreats to another space, but not in fear, simply a wise observation of another's flaws. naesala had not taken the arrow well and another would fell him, surely, as would be the hope from hunter to winged prey.

"remain standing, you two." an attempt at encouragement, without the promising bite she is used to offering, "you are useless if your efforts do not bear fruit. let it not come down to such a fate."

He glances, instead, to Eremiya -- Is she quite all right? Hrm. Well, she's got enough left in her to sass him, he supposes, so she must be some measure of okay. 'Boy,' she had called him, and he'd bristled half a moment until remembering it was only fair. Preserving himself wisely, however, has never been his strong suit. And when the other team looks to have a healer, and his fellow lions do not... Hector - for the space of one fleeting second - wishes Serra were here beside him.

Bah! He'll just have to make do.

Or so he endeavours, but a hiss leaves him as he is immediately struck -- both physically and 'emotionally.'

"This oaf has feelings too, yanno!" It's spoken in clear jest as he snaps the offending arrow, eyes glinting with a want for revenge. And way back when, he might have simply jumped on that impulse. But if he were to go down without at least taking an opponent with him, that'd be leaving his teammates in a rough spot, wouldn't it?

"Hey, swap with me."

Hector rotates to the right.

(And besides, much as he hates to admit it, his axes have never fared greatly against swords. That was just the way of the world.)

"Ah! Splendid form, Hector! You're talented for a beorc!"

And not to ignore the lovely Eremiya. He smiles over at her, watching her ready her attack. She's just as fearsome as these two, and Naesala is once again glad to have these two on his team.

Not to say that Selena -- terrifying creature that she is -- as well as the two mages aren't something fierce. But Naesala is feeling cocky today, and he has already decided he likes his odds over here best.

( if his team had been losing, he might have petitioned to swap sides, to be honest. )

He swings down and lands two punches, swift and lethal.

Naesala 5/5HP hits and hits Celica 2/5HP with Iron Gauntlets [Roll: 15, 3; -1HP -1HP] Celica 0/5HP. Celica has been defeated!

"One down! Let's see what our dearest Eremiya can do! I'm sure you'll make us very proud!"

and this worrying paranoia festers even when a shadow ducks from the sky, unforgiving upon celica's once burning visage.

mother's gaze snaps up to the back of a beast. guilt slowly consumes itself into obligation, overfilling the cup her body makes itself out to be if only to falter her hopes at tending to celica herself; shaking at the thought of draining the bright girl of her undeserving fire until she is a skeleton of the mage she is now.

but all ends to the hoot and holler above her, reddening sepia skin into a rosy hue that she cannot recognize as genuine fluster or natural irritation. it takes a moment to pull her gaze from celica, but when she does, she squints up at naesala as though she cannot see him━━━which, she truly, cannot.

"ah. of course, whatever is necessary of me," curt and nearly dismissive if not for the snap of her focus onto the swordswoman. she would not need to give them a reason to be prideful, for taking from those who have is more talent than skill and━━━

EREMIYA 5/6HP misses SELENA 3/6HP with nosferatu. [ roll: d20 = 2; -0HP ] SELENA 3/6HP

CRACK! comes the burst of fire, elsewhere, from a far distant tome and not the confinements of her mind. the very second eremiya's gaze flickers away, her hand closes around air and not the halved wealth of the swordswoman's lifeforce. still - quivering palms pull back, scratching at the scars that traced from thumb to index to wrist.

she does not look back up to naesala. i cannot, does not manage itself, instead sharpening as, "damn it. i need to. . . i. . . must you hype so needlessly? i cannot focus if━━━"

but he quickly becomes the bearer of ire for her mistake.

"Merely a consequence of the battlefield, my friend!"

She lets his words slide like water off a duck's back, though the searing arc of his axe isn't as easy to weather. Couple that with her energy being dragged from her body by Nosferatu, and the Valentian is left in a winded state.

Elise 4/6HP heals Celica 1/5HP with Heal [Roll: 12; +2HP] Celica 3/5HP

Only for a rush of air to fill her lungs at the soothing sensation that washes over her, and when she glances over to the bubbly healer at her side, Celica gives a soft smile. Her energy was reminiscent of Mae's. "Thank you."

Focus soon returns to the battle, and Celica aims another Fire spell at the older woman—she was in range, and her ability to heal herself would be bothersome, indeed.

Celica 3/5HP hits Eremiya 6/6HP with Fire [Roll: 15; -1.5 + 0.5mag = -2HP] Eremiya 4/6HP

Flames burst from her palm with rejuvenated force, connecting squarely with their target this time.

“Yeah, let’s keep it up, ya hear? I’ll take this oaf down first!” I’ll definitely be able to out-maneuver him with my quick moves! Smirking, she set her sights upon her target once again, as Elise dashed across the field. She wobbled as the girl brushed past her.

The flurry of movements periphery apparently didn’t stop at her own team, though. Her opponents, sporting the blue of the Blue Lions house, had moved ever so slightly out of the reach of her sword arm. A tall figure stood between her target and herself, black-feathered wings halting her approach. Selena grumbled as she slowed before engaging this third party. Stubborn as she was, there was no way she was letting some man get between her goal, literally. She dropped to one knee, fumbling with the clasp of her quiver tied to her belt. Wings, huh? Then I’ll shoot you down!

Selena 6/6HP hits Hector 3/5HP with Iron Bow [Roll: 13; -1.5HP] Hector 1.5/5HP

In her haste, it seems her arrow flew a little off-mark. But well, she had wanted to hit the bigger man anyway, right? Pretending the outcome was her original intention, she pumps her fist in the air.

“Ha! You’re not getting away from me!”

where she splutters into dormancy, celica is none the same━━━the burst of fire sundering any and all earlier attempts at cordial composure.

CELICA 3/5HP hits EREMIYA 6/6HP with fire. [ roll: d20 = 15; 1.5 + 0.5 magic, -2HP ] EREMIYA 4/6HP

though her lips separate━━━to protest. to plead. to pester━━━not a sound leaves her before the stumble of her footing is met by heat. . . everywhere. nowhere. she can nearly taste the smoke before she smells it. cruel flames retracing the scars it once created and scorching the threads of otherwise pristine robes. immediately, her hands rise to her face. not to protect, but to claw and scratch. to dig into her skin and retaliate against the pain by inflicting it upon herself, first, and last. and she twitches as she does so, no longer stumbling as she once had been, but not a quarter more confident on her feet.

heather eyes widen, nearly missed by curtly cut nails, and her chest stutters in its erratic rise and fall. and yet. . . that is what she has not done, right? fall? would she need to rise if the shame of defeat had yet to turn her to ash?

when the mother's gaze rises to meet celica's, it is between the fingers of a trembling hand, where the other is raised in suit.

"you. . ."

EREMIYA 4/6HP hits CELICA 3/6HP and heals herself with nosferatu. [ roll: d20 = 17; -1HP, +1HP ] CELICA 2/6HP, EREMIYA 5/6HP

a scarred hand grips only air, yet clenches into a fist and tugs forth a measure of the sanity that had been torn from her. it is all she can do now, but she is the perfect host for mothering grudges until they sharpen into the makings of a weapon.

yet, as she glares, there is little question in the frightful backstep she makes, on instinct, away from celica. twitching, still, wary eyes flicker from warm colors to cool; blinking away the dark gaze to frown upon the sight of hector's form. he will not hold up for long, she thinks but does not voice, in fear that her voice will stammer to the extent of needing self-imposed, mutilated silence.

"Celica! Picking on old ladies now, are we?"

(Hector is never not loud, even (or perhaps especially) in jest. Like, she ain't look that old, but in his eyes, she doesn't look particularly suited to the battlefield, and there's definitely a gap in there somewhere, and if she takes offense maybe she deserves to be teased a little-- Whatever, it's a joke.)

The flaming axe is no Armads, but its weight feels nevertheless comfortable in his grip.

"Holy mother! On your left!"

Hector 5/5HP crits Celica 5/5HP with Flaming Axe (Smash) [Roll: 14 = -3HP] Celica 2/5HP

Arm flexes, curls, and with a mighty swing his opponent is met with a lash of flame.

There was DEFINITELY a dent in that armor now! She looks back at her teammates with a determined grin, satisfied with her assault. "Heh."

Selena 6/6HP crits Hector 5/5HP with Iron Sword (Sunder) [Roll: 10 = -2HP] Hector 3/5HP

she is met immediately with the all-too-familiar crackling bursts of flames.

CELICA 5/5HP barely hits EREMIYA 6/6HP with fire. [ roll: 5; 0.5 + 0.5 magic = 1HP ] EREMIYA 5/6HP

heather eyes widen to a fault, vision blurred already by the earlier heat of sunlight during preparations. thankfully, thank the dragon, that the red-haired girl is a sore shot than she, merely catching the slope of eremiya's arm aflame. so, quietly seething and trembling, ( To thou will go your wrath, ) the bishop clutches her arm with a scarred, aching hand and dismisses all else with the other.

she does not bat a lash at the brute man's comedy, though the ire of her glare settles only upon this celica's hand and not face. thus, ( Do not kill, only teach ) the flicker of light warms the curl of her palm; raised at the mirror of the girl's own.

EREMIYA 5/6HP hits CELICA 2/6HP and heals herself with nosferatu. [ roll d20: 10; -1HP, +1HP ] CELICA 1/6HP, EREMIYA 6/6HP

"yes, boy, you are heard," is returned through clenched teeth until the spell seeps over wounds, only new, and arches itself from her fingers to weaken celica's grip. though the physicality of the wounds leaves her, the feeling evoked upon receiving them does not, and so there is little to say when she prepares her stance once more, still clutching onto the scarred skin revealed beneath scorched and torn sleeves.

'i want her. let me kill her' nearly slips through her teeth before faux manners uplift the smile she remains wearing, into something near normal and cracked. instead, she addresses her team with as much enthusiasm as apathy can muster, "i had not the time to prepare a healing spell for you all. so preserve yourselves wisely."

How hard would war have been, should he have been untidy? He does not wish to think on it, in part because there is no use considering that which would never come to pass ( i.e. a moment of disorganization ) nor would it make for pleasant conversations to debate 'what ifs'.

Duessel notices that she does not like the light, and shifts slightly to try to block it for her. He does not bring attention to it, just acts as he should, and hopes it alleviates some of the stress on her eyes.

the arcs of the chandelier light slip over his shoulders, but not a dim beam touches her face. and, to that, eremiya offers a small smile, acknowledging but not much more than what it could be.

she is right. "ah. of course. you have the makings of a horseman." what does she mean by this? even she does not know. perhaps it is his manner of volume. or his outward strength. or he simply appears as a man who befriends a mount before a person. "the knight of seiros would have benefited from your offer, but either way, you aid the monastery."

others are stirring from their tables; the hosts are no longer dormant. thus, eremiya makes this quick. "confessionals. otherwise, i was hired to console the youth of the monastery, as well as be the mediator for families of the populace. i━━━"

the bell interrupts her. oh, how strange that time has passed this quickly. standing and smoothing her skirts, eremiya holds out a hand to duessel, bowing her head in farewell.

"thank you for the conversation, though it was brief. good day to you, sir duessel." a pause. "may the... the shadow dragon bring us together in the near future."