#convoquer

It was misty again in the Nebulawood but that was normal for this area. At least it wasn’t near as dense as the time they had taken on that Behemoth, Deadeye. That had been some time ago now and it felt much safer to be in the wood with the beat gone. And yet...the Strategist felt himself on edge for a reason he couldn’t place. He was out, alone, on the hunt for some suitable firewood. He couldn’t help the constant scanning of the area around him. Ignis felt someone or something there but wasn’t able to put a finger on it. He stepped into a clearer, though still wooded, area and stopped. Instinct had his daggers appearing in hand as a precaution. There was someone here and being alone Ignis wasn’t going to take any risks.

He loved his sister, he really did. But this dungeon was literal hell on earth. Why did the Infernian think this was a good idea to hide? He’d lost his jacket after getting caught numerous times on the heated spikes. Well actually he had removed it after nearly landing on them. The same spikes had singed small holes into his clothes and left cuts in his skin. Thankfully he didn’t bleed because the wounds instantly cauterized from the heat. From his many falls he knew he had bruises, especially on his good shoulder and both knees. Not to mention his slip ups and falling into the black abyss. By the time he reached his goal he was battered and irritable. He found Ifrit at the core of the dreaded place and stopped before him. “Ifrit, I am here on behalf of my sister, the Oracle.” He stated, a slight pant coming with his words. Even with the place’s strange ability to keep him alive he was exhausted.

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Bleus : Pourquoi Aymeric Laporte doit être convoqué dans la liste de Deschamps à l’Euro

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