#heartstringbound

     Such magic. Such skill! It’s incredible--the heroine can only envy the sight before her very eyes. Phantoms of light weave in movements alike her own. Well, not completely but that was a small inconvenience. While exploring the monastery on this fine day with those fine festivities and her fine classmates, Ophelia can’t tame the curiosity that tugs at her mind. An attention fully on the mere thought of fighting such phantoms. So, as she naturally would have, ventures off toward cloak and light.

     The challenge at hand seems entertaining enough--to be paired with others at the hand of random does sound exhilarating! Who might she get? A friend? ( She has many of those. ) A foe? ( Not too many of those? ) What of her father? Or Nina? Or--

     “Prince Leo!!” Ophelia shouts his name in alongside a delightful giggle, sticking to wildly waving at the man instead of embracing him. Nearby stands two other members of faculty: relaxed Setsuna and a charming Freyr. Yet she remains as the only student. Would that mean boundaries? Nah! She’ll be fine!

     “It’s an honor to fight alongside you all,” she speaks while grabbing the end of her cape and bowing. A short, respectful act that doesn’t last long because the air around them has thickened and they’re not alone anymore. “With that being said,” Ophelia twirls--with a bit of difficulty--the shock-stick in her hand, “I shall take the first attack. WIELDY WEAPON OF ZEALOUS ZAPS, ASCEND AND DESTROY! BAAAANG!”

     ophelia! roll 1d20 = 14, hit w/ shock-stick! ( 1 damage dealt )

     archer! hp = 5/6, good start!

     Magic curls around the end of the shock-stick before rocketing toward the archer, whose attempt to evade proves to help in the slightest. Ophelia laughs, a hand hovering over her mouth. The fact that she even remembered the weapon’s name... well, never mind. Of course, SHE would remember it. Not a name was to be forgotten, not a weapon to be broken. Even--

     archer! roll 1d20 = 17, hit! ( 1.5 damage dealt )

     ophelia! hp = 8.5, ouch!

     An arrow, encased without light or darkness, hits her in the shoulder as she’s turned around--clearly about to boast about her grand attack. “Hey,” she pouts, “I was just about to speak!”

At best, Setsuna... vexes him. Thoughtless, but not careless. Absent-minded, but not inept. He knows the hearts of men—has seen the best and worst of them, has seen every possible tell for a lie—but she escapes him in the way that dreams do, slipping through his fingers.

At worst, Setsuna pisses him off. (—no. Yes. The frustration is there, but so is the jealousy. The envy. The rotting, twisted desire to have even a modicum of her talents to simply not think, to have daydreams that can be pleasant. It makes him sick.)

"We’re in a completely new environment, and still you look like you haven’t a care in the world,” he notes. “Does nothing ever bother you?”

There’s always rumors about new kinds of magic and spells, but this one seems to have spread far and wide. Some say that it’s within Reason magic to be able to levitate someone else with a new unofficial incantation making the rounds! Is the risk worth the reward? [Grants Reason +1]

Late spring bathes the world around her in honeyed hues and delicate warmth. Mercedes thinks the world is beautiful and sends a quiet prayer to the Goddess in thanks. Petals stream across the path she walks back into the monastery and she basks in the serenity of the moment.

It’s broken when she returns, though she remains calm regardless. Professor Setsuna, who is clearly injured seems just as relaxed - completely nonplussed about the blood pooling at the knees of her leggings. Mercedes dashes over and places a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. 

“Oh dear, Professor. Did you fall in another trap?” Mercedes asks softly as she gently guides the wounded party to sit on a bench nearby. “No worries, I can be pretty clumsy too,” she giggles lightly, kneeling next to the archery professor. “Could you pull the fabric over your knee for me, please?” The request is gentle as she unlaces the older woman’s boots to get a better look at the injury. It’s clean and fairly shallow, nothing a little heal spell couldn’t cure in seconds. White light gathers in her hands and pulsates at her fingertips as Mercedes allows them to dance just millimetres above the broken skin. The wound knits together quickly, with no complications and she rises back to her feet and straightens her skirt.

“All better, professor!” Her voice chimes as she adjusts her shawl. No messy bandages required! It’s only now, that her attention isn’t fixated on easing pain and healing that she notices the chatter of a group of mages nearby. “Hmm, I wonder what’s got them so enthralled...” Mercedes muses mostly to herself.

UNLOCKED 2021 STARTER:  @arcstral; @heartstringbound; @saionofvalflame; @thiefs-vow.

—FIRST, FIRE, for what little good it does to fight back against the oppressively dreary surroundings.

There is no place for indecisiveness at the onset of what could very well be a war, enemy unseen. His classmates needed a steady presence, and he has a duty to fulfill it. He had almost missed the party, settling affairs as his peers prepared—in private, steeling himself, fingers tracing at the blasted mark—

No. They need a cool head, such as himself. Someone prepared to brandish spell and lance and stare down an unknown foe; and, failing that, someone with the wherewithal to see to their retreat.

He had almost missed this opportunity. He will not again, stepping up to decode the mystery of the door barring themselves from the heart of ancient, gnarled tree. Casted Fire matches the strange blue lights that dot the entryway, the orange flame natural, the sickly blue decidedly *not.*

The door. Focus.

Lorenz bends himself down as he scans each edge, only stopping once the first curiosity gives him pause:

A… slot? As though someone had forgotten to carve the keyhole properly.

“Come, look,” he speaks, to draw the attention of the small party under his care. “I… have not seen a keyhole so peculiar before.”

Stay focused.

The unfortunate loss of half of their team the previous round ensures that the next round will begin with only Setsuna and himself in the ring, and Freyr finds he is unwilling to see how difficult their new enemies are. It was fortunate that the last match ended when it did... though he would not call beginning the next match with only two members fortunate as well. However, both of them have healing implements, which is perhaps the biggest saving grace in the situation. As the old phantoms dissipate and new ones take their place, his Recover, Restore, and Meteor are left while Hrungnir is taken away, an axe and lance given to him in return. As he is unfamiliar with either weapon, this round should promise to be... interesting.

But first, he must ensure the survival of the members of his group.

Calling upon his Faith magic, Freyr casts a Recover spell upon his remaining teammate. The Hoshidan archer seems to be suffering from an ailment from one of the previous rounds, which makes the use of Restore necessary as well—but first he needs to make sure the woman has enough health should she engage with the enemy.

Roll Recover: 16! Health recovered: 6. Setsuna: 8.5/10 HP

Freyr takes 0.5 damage from Joyous Lantern! Freyr: 8/10 HP

The spell removes the majority of her injuries, and Freyr breathes a sigh of relief. That relief, however, is undercut by a sting in his side, apparently courtesy of the lantern she carries. He frowns in recollection, vague impressions of the other two being injured here and there by the light-giving implement throughout the previous round making their way to the forefront of his mind. ... Strange. Shaking his head, he focuses on their enemies with the hope that the both of them will survive—and that they will be able to draw their teammates back into the fray.

There’s no thoughts anymore. No words either. Setsuna isn’t smart but even she can tell that this woman (whoever she was, she didn’t know her, but kana trusted her and that was enough for now) had something wrong with her. Setsuna didn’t know what and she got the feeling there was no time for explanations either.

She picks up her bow and moves as quick as she can on unsteady legs. Her hand falls on Kana’s shoulder. Both for support and to keep him in place as she moves to stand between him and the woman crying out.

Sick. He couldn’t be.

“You okay?” She asks. She doesn’t look at Kana. Her eyes don’t leave the woman. When her legs feel steady enough, the retainer’s hands leave his shoulder to reach preemptively for an arrow.

“Stay close, Kana. I’ve got you.”

R'wena drops to her knees and Kana's first instinct is to run to her side.

"Miss R'wena!"

But a strong grip on his shoulders stopped him before he could even take a step. Kana looks up, expecting to find Marth holding him in place yet again—but it's the wrong shade of blue. Setsuna stares calmly down at him, a seriousness in her expression that he only ever saw on the battlefield.

Grey eyes fill with tears, pouring over before he could even attempt to wipe them away. (His throat clenches painfully, but it wasn't from the sickness.)

"She's hurting," he whimpers, desperate for someone to understand. "Miss R'wena needs us, auntie. We have to help her!" But Kana knows, despite the desperation in his voice, that there was nothing they could do.

(Except, perhaps, give her a swift and painless death before things got worse.)

Gaze turns back to his friend writhing in pain. Within moments, the jacket he had lent to her, gifted to him by Niles (this will keep you safe), was shredded into pieces. A choked sob escapes him—only to be cut off by a violent fit of coughing. He steps back from Setsuna to avoid spreading the sickness to her, too.

Like it hadn't spread already.

"We have... She..."

Hiccups wrack his words. He sounds like a little boy crying out for his mother, like he had during the war.

"I don't want her to die."

An arrow whirls past his head, singing through the air. Ares bristles instantly, searching for danger. He’s still on monastery ground and wonders who would dare open fire here. It would be naive to assume there were no foreign spies and scouts at Garreg Mach, but to attack so openly? Brazen - and a grave mistake that would not be repeated. Ares unsheathes his sword as he searches for whatever miscreant dared launch an attack upon him. 

There’s no one around, at least no one he’d consider a foe.

There is a woman laying in the grass, a bow in her hand. He squints furiously at her, surveying her features. A flash of recognition sparks in his mind. Se- Sets? Something like that. An archery professor.

“You missed your mark,” Ares folds his arms across his chest, observing her disdainfully, “next time fire at your foes, not your colleagues.”

“Aha! I thought I’d find you out here, Setsuna,” Orochi called as she approached the archer. Was it Lady Setsuna now? Princess? Queen? Whatever, Orochi decided on the spot that she’d known Setsuna long enough for any slight breach of etiquette to go ignored. That or she’d likely not notice anyway. “I come offering my services today. A free cup of tea, too.”

It was breezy outdoors in the monastery grounds and peaceful. Picturesque too, oh she wished Kagero was here to paint the landscape. Alas, Orochi was left to find her own fun and games here in Fodlan, and find them she had.

“I was thinking we could enjoy a nice cup of tea, as old friends,” she said as she placed a blanket on the ground to sit on, next to the blue-haired archer. Hands folded in her lap, she gave Setsuna a placid smile. “I brought my cards along and I could read your tea leaves. You could have a go at mine, if you like.”

“Even if you can’t decipher them, it’s no different to finding shapes in the clouds above our heads. Except it’s tastier, of course.”