#disgracedvessel

starter for @nagaficat and @disgracedvessel

Forsyth has made a promise, and he intends on keeping it.

The aftermath of the mission leaves everyone shaken, and he knows recovery time is vital. But he remembers the worry and urgency in Deirdre’s eyes, her desire to see her son alive and unharmed. Thus on his first day back at Garreg Mach, he musters the strength to scout the Abyss for Julius’ whereabouts, and on the second he sets off with Deirdre to find him.

“Be careful. While there is unwarranted stigma towards the residents of the Abyss, there are still scoundrels lurking. If anyone tries to harm you, I am at your side.” The individuals who Forsyth had recruited the help of yesterday gave him a general area where Julius roams--nothing concrete, but it’s better than nothing and he doubts he’ll get as lucky as he did last time. “Your son has made a bit of a name for himself down here, but he seems to roam...”

The residents of the Abyss, for their part, give them a wide berth. Perhaps it is that they are specifically looking for Julius, perhaps it is because they are a princess and a Knight of Seiros. Regardless, Forsyth tries his best to be gracious to the residents, giving them apologetic smiles as he and Deirdre make their way further down.

When picked to go hunting Tharja truly hadn't expected Ephidel and Julius to be the ones picked alongside her. She knew little of either of them but she did know that the one time she'd met Julius he'd been rather hostile. Which made her even warier as they were picked to collect food for the others. Her boots were soaked and the ends of her skirt dragged as they traversed what little ground they could to where there were birds to hunt. The eerie silence was made worse by their strange surroundings. She figured speaking so early on in their hunt would just scare their prey away.

Once settled Tharja crouched to bide her time, letting the birds slowly get used to their collective presence. By the time the birds were settled Tharja was more than ready to strike. With a sudden burst of magic, Tharja managed to strike a bird down, watching as it dropped from the magical overload. She was quick to hurry over, snatching it up and looking toward her teammates. Tharja held it up, motioning toward the gull-sized bird she'd managed to down.

She hoped her teammates were doing alright. The water was frustrating to her beyond belief. If she slipped even a little bit she'd drown. She certainly hoped neither of them fell in. Could Ephidel swim? Could Julius?

Dragging her heels, she finds the weight of a decent battle to prove invaluable. Of course, she knows better than to be frustrated—she shouldn't turn the coals in the pit of her stomach now that it is over. With the last of her lucidity, she forced every heavy step towards the medical tent in dignified silence, meeting plenty of friends along the way to the tent. Nanna ducked in, at the behest of a handful of clerics who ushered her towards the beds, and there were a few sagely words shared amongst healers who knew better. She insisted on tending to herself, as one would when there were others to care for, and took to a rolled gauze and herbal pulp readily.

That is, before she felt the moon in her chest plummet, at the sight of his infamous crowd of scarlet locks. Ah. So this is why Lady Deidre fought the way a mother would, clinging to anything as she slipped over her own words. A mother's reconciliation, huh? The coals are a-cinder before she could count the stars running on the back of her eyelids. "You. Your mother speaks as though you've been saved."

She strided immediately towards him, taking on the form of a young woman who had not just gotten a shot of toxins through her veins. "Are you so unwise as to show your face around here? Julius." Nanna removed the title like it meant something. (She knows it means nothing from her.) And, with the roll of gauze still gripped in her hands, Nanna pointed at him derisively. The contempt on her face shifts her features to a freeze-burn. "In a tent full of the injured? I may very well lose my right to heal, after this."

The world shifts rapidly, flashing before her eyes in a blur. It’s disorienting, enough to leave one nauseous, and as her vision swims and blurs, Elincia wonders if it will ever end.

Then it halts, abruptly. Her head jerks forward as she tries to steady herself. Their surroundings haven’t changed at all, strangely. Yet her garb has and so has that of her comrades. She breathes a sigh of relief. Thank Ashunera that Julius’ accursed hat is a thing of the past. Their foes have changed too, multiplied as well unfortunately.

Lilina is standing once more, at least. Or more accurately, flying, of which Elincia is admittedly rather jealous. Being grounded on the battlefield frustrates her to no end.

“Caeda, be careful! We don’t know how dangerous these things are,” Queen Crimea calls out, dashing over as fast as the hem of her robes will allow her. Whilst used to wearing long skirts, it really is an impediment during battle. She skids over, next to the airborne pegasus knight and feels yet another pang of jealousy. If she has to be trapped in such a terrible situation, she could at least have her beloved steed by her side. “Ah, I miss the skies already. Here, let me patch you up before you fly off into battle. We’re all a little sore after the last battle.”

Elincia casts Recover on Caeda. Roll d20: 2! 5 HP recovered Caeda has 7.5/10 HP remaining.

The mental block she felt earlier still lingers, but the spell she casts now is more powerful. It helps make up the difference, reinvigorating the marine haired woman to fight another round.

“Good luck! I believe in us, as a team!”

The scene changes, and like the few times prior, Odin waits out the awkward reshuffling of realities. It takes a second, but when the spell’s work is finished, it proves to be well worth the wait. 

The first two rounds were simple enough: a pack of phantoms armed with weaponry similar to Odin’s team, which he fought in gladiatorial combat. This time, however, he finds himself looking up at a great, flying foe. Emphasis on up, since the arena that encases them now is more akin to a birdcage than a coliseum. It is tall to allow the enemy to spread its gargantuan wings--barred to prevent escape. It’s likely an intentional touch, though this fact makes it no less fearsome.

Odin gulps, swallowing a lump in his throat. He’d never be the type to run from a challenge, but with the state he’s currently in, he feels like he’d become birdfeed in a matter of moments. Instead of engaging the enemy, he focuses on himself. Looking down at his hands reveals they are clad in a set of magical Aura Knuckles, imbued with shimmering, golden light.

He holds them up to his face, shuts his eyes, and allows himself to tap into them for a moment. “Twins of Desolation: Hummingbird the Wise and Nomad the Vicious.” The weapons are named, and the instant Odin pronounces them, they respond to his determination. A faint, yellow spark peeks from his chest, before expanding and covering his body in a radiant flair.

Odin uses Healing Focus! | Odin HP = 10/10

All evidence of his previous battle is erased from his mortal form. No longer does his shoulder bear the widened hole that ate away from him, and no more does he feel residual pain. He looks to his allies, beaming. The joyous smile on his lips is all they would need to know he’s alright.

But this moment of solitude does not last long. It’s abruptly cut off by the ear-piercing scream of the Haukritos. Odin is reminded that he’s in another fight, and holds his fists up in a guard. He’d have to brace himself for this one.

Fhirdiad Team Two and Blue @disgracedvessel @atypicalsenerio

Hilda isn’t sure which task is going to be more difficult: tracking down whatever it is that’s going on or somehow making teamwork between herself, Soren, and Julius work.  At least there are three other teams to help with stopping the nonsense being caused from outside of their groups.  

“Well boys, I have no intention of dealing with any of this all by myself.  I am just a delicate flower after all.  So let’s make sure to stick together, okay?”  With that, she links her arms with theirs and drags them off north toward the door she knows will lead them to the library.  There was a scream that came from over there ish, right?  At the very least, they can rule it out.

Julia is suddenly alone. Confident, resolute steps carry Julius to her. He grabs one of her hands and pulls her into a closed-position dance.

“Enjoying yourself?” he hums as the photo-artifex flashes.

She feels his presence long before she catches sight of him.

It sends a shudder down her spine, one she tries her best to suppress. Her breath catches in her throat as she’s overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions. Joy and fear, relief and revulsion; peace and confusion - all crash against her like waves against the shore and for a brief moment, Julia feels as if she’ll drift away with the sea.

Poised and assured, he takes her hand and pulls her in to pose for the camera. If she wasn’t certain before, the moment their hands touch she knows it to be true. The brother she thought to be long gone is right in front of her, hidden just beneath the mask.

He is not the sweet, kind little boy she once knew. Nor is he the pawn of Loptous anymore, that much she can tell just from standing next to him. It doesn’t make her want to run the way it used to. She isn’t really sure how to handle this stranger whose hand held hers when they first entered this chaotic world. Words are difficult to come by, no matter how familiar he feels there’s a loneliness that separates both of them.

“Quite well, thank you,” Julia mumbles, staring at her feet. He must think her a coward, pathetic in the way she still cowers before him, trying not to step on landmines. There’s something she needs to say though, has to impress upon him before he leaves her to find his fun elsewhere. “It’s very kind of you to ask.”

He retreats deeper into the crowd as the man stalks past his hiding place, eyes still following, uncertain of what to do with or how to name the tumult that's started in his chest. He can smell the metallic tang of blood on the breeze, and his feet make his decision for him: he pursues it.

"You can't outrun the future," Julius says coldly as he approaches his father from behind, certain that it wouldn't take him much guesswork to realize who he is behind the gilded mask. Disappointment spills out faster than anything else trapped inside. "But at least defend yourself."

With all eyes on him, Arvis had tried to remain relatively composed, but storming away from the scene now only elicited a push and pull in his soul.

His nights were regularly wracked with guilt and nightmares, but it seemed that for the first time in a long, long while, Arvis felt as though there was hope in his future. That he wasn't on the edge of isolation once again.

But ghosts of future and past found him again and again in this land. Demands for atonement were no longer limited to his nightly hours. They found him in the light of day, and under ballroom lights.

His steps wavered between slow paces and quickened stomps before a call draws his attention from behind.

A demon, of sorts. At first he almost seems like an echo of his own thoughts. But the boy's stature, his voice, his hair; the same shade of his own, the same shade he had passed down.

Behind that mask is the brand Arvis had also passed down. The very reason he began down this path in the beginning.

The embers in his heart that sparked as Seliph struck him burn to life. Blazing with a white hot heat they had not since Belhalla. He had done this for every fate branded by oppression. Who would he be if he walked away from that?

If the traitors wished to call him enemy so badly, he would wear the title with pride.

Arvis stands tall, his anemic spirit resolute once more.