#etoilerrante

"Phina! I've been searching all over for you, my darling!" A gentle voice alerts her to the dancer's call. Draws her closer as she weaves through the crowd, in front of her beloved in full blossom. Joy bursts across her features as she takes in every petal, every blush of pink as though she's never seen a woman so beautiful.

Truth be told, she hasn't.

"The honour is all mine. Although I expect you to wear these in your hair too," Elincia presses her palm, marked with lightning, against the blessing of air upon Phina's own. A soft moment passes as she gazes into magenta eyes. A pale green bud attached to the vine at her wrist begins to open in perfect sync with a purple blossom growing from Phina's. "Dancing is always a pleasure but it's extra special with you. Let's have a turn around the dancefloor on the way to the snacks table then. Those sweet buns are calling out my name!"

"Sorry, our names!" Elincia laughs as she reaches out her spare hand to brush an errant lock of hair from Phina's face. Then she hesitates lifting her fingertips to caress the petals adorning rose hair like a halo. "They look lovely, like a crown of nature! Phina, you look so beautiful I might need your help getting around the ballroom. I simply can't look away from you!"

"I'd rather not either, for what view could be even half as lovely!"

The concept of a land submerged under water is altogether not entirely foreign, even to someone like Sophia, who has only recently left her village. The reason? Put simply, the temple in Arcadia where Archsage Athos entombed his Divine Weapon had a similar defense mechanism to keep out intruders. Of course, the passageways weren’t submerged all of the time, unlike here, where the water seems to be a constant. And if there is nowhere to go but the water, then into the water they will have to go.

Sophia takes a step off of one of the few buildings not completely submerged under the water and allows herself to sink into the water.

Opening her eyes under the water, something glittering catches her attention and she swims over to investigate.

[roll 1d10: 2. roll 1d20: 11. roll 1d10: 6. 6 tokens gathered!]

Emerging like some sort of deep sea creature, sopping wet hair spreading out around her like seaweed, Sophia places a small pile of tokens on the edge of a roof, where two people(?) stand waiting.

“...Here.”

Without waiting for a response, Sophia sinks back into the water.

@etoilerrante sent:

Phina barely had a moment to catch her breath before she was directed to her next opponent. She urged her pegasus onwards, to a new section of the battlefield, lance raised in challenge at the person she stood before.

“Hello!” Her voice was dampened by the rain, but she hoped her tone carried enough. “Let’s give this our all!”

With that warning, Phina’s pegasus galloped forward, and her lancetip aimed straight for the other.

[Phina (5/5) attacks Idunn with Blessed Lance. 1d20-2 roll: 8 -> 6. Hit. Idunn HP 4.5/6]

The hit was solid, but not as hard as she hoped. She tugged the reins back to prepare herself for the counterattack.

There it is again: that familiar command, that tolling bell.

Let’s give this our all!

It seizes her faster than she would have liked, breaking through any sort of independent thought or personal desire. It cracks through her walls, and though unintended, dredges up a murky dream spent obeying the whims of another.

Phina has called the Demon Dragon.

When her arms move and block the blow, they feel a different sensation than last time. Not seeping poison, but burning light. The tip of Phina’s spear rends her flesh, bathing manakete scales in its heavenly glow. It is an arbiter of heaven--a judge of sins. And one day, far into the future, when Idunn’s soul is laid to rest, she holds firm that this light will not be so forgiving.

“Give our all,” she dronishly repeats, rather than coughing or flinching at the force of the other’s blow. “Very well.” 

In the short time she is spared during Phina’s recoil, Idunn grips her dragonstone. From a flashy display emerge wings of light and dark, then a tail of holy feather and hellish scale, and finally a body half-divine, half-demon. Idunn is still the same amalgamation of her two draconic forms, soul torn asunder and will unable to walk one path over the other. It’s a terrifying display. One can only wonder how her last opponent managed to stomach it all.

But that matters little. Heeding the pinkette’s order, her neck draws back so it can belch sacred fire. Breath spreads across an open air, hunting the wings of the other’s pegasus--wishing to melt them like wax.

One dancer finds another, holding two glasses of sparkling water. "You look lovely," Phina begins, offering her one of the glasses. "I'm curious about the syrups they have over at the bar. Would you come with me to try a few?"

The woman that approaches Lene is an absolute vision. Dazzling in her outfit, she moves with such grace and discipline that Lene immediately recognises her as a fellow dancer. She accepts the glass of water offered to her and flushes slightly at the compliment.

Lene can't help but laugh. Right now those words are perhaps a touch more literal than Phina intended. Couldn't two gorgeous women share their love of dance without an uninvited bandit surprise?

"I've got yours too, Phina. Let's show these creeps we're more than just pretty faces." Her hands tighten around the hilt of her sword as she shifts her stance. Plants her feet more firmly the way Ares taught her to in a fight. "These are just some common brutes, let's dazzle them."

And really, these men are entirely outclassed. They're not trained mercenaries or elite soldiers, just a group of thieves who picked up some axes and refuse to take no for an answer. Lene would hate to have been cornered by them alone but with Phina's help, they make swift work of those creeps.

"Phina--" Elincia is cut off by the bruising press of lips against her own. Desperate for relief, searching for reassurance. Tears mingle and fall on her cheeks and Elincia has to push her away, no matter how much it breaks her heart to do so. "Phina stop! Please, tell me what's wrong."

Her hands find purchase on shaking shoulders as the dancer trembles from the weight of her sobs. Elincia draws her in closer, holds her tight. Rocks Phina gently as if trying to soothe a crying child. It's all she can do, when the other woman is so distraught even words can't express her sorrow.

"More importantly, you fought to the best of your abilities. Today was not your day but," Elincia leans closer, hesitating as her cheeks flush. She forgets the juice in her hand. It's now or never. She pushes just slightly further, pressing her lips against Phina's for a brief, chaste but affectionate kiss. "I was incredibly proud of you. I only caught glimpses but I know you worked hard. A brilliant example for our students."

"I do hope you're feeling better, I'm sorry I could not be by your side. Your efforts however were wonderful to see, for myself and the Blue Lions students." Elincia's smile softens, fingertips pushing strands of excess hair out of Phina's eyes. "Winning is sweet but you are far sweeter my dear. Besides, the point of this mock battle is growth not victory."

It’s just a scratch, Jeritza tells himself. It’s just a scratch, he nearly tells this girl, too, but pain sears up his shoulder toward his neck and strangles the words before they can make it out. A grimace and a restrained grunt answer her instead, and he half-falls, half-leans his uninjured shoulder against a sturdy tree trunk. He is neither afraid of blood, nor afraid of his own mortality, yet he can’t bring himself to look down at the wound that he can tell now, despite how he tries to convince himself otherwise, is still open.

This isn’t new, waking up amidst trees in the soft glow of early dawn, battered, bruised, and often bleeding. But ordinarily, he does a better job of not being found.

“No, I have--” He reaches for a pouch on his belt where he keeps emergency supplies, but his fingers grasp at nothing. It’s gone. Stolen, dropped, or drowned, he can’t say, but now he’s at this stranger’s mercy. He bows his head in resignation and sighs.