#sunncutter

"I hope that we have a moment of reprieve ahead of us. For your sake, but also for everyone else." It seemed almost forgotten, what they had come here to do - in the rush of battle, and performance to boot, it had been easy to brush aside that they were here to kill.

Lyn extended a hand to shake. "If you need anything, and I'm nearby, I hope you'll call on me. I'll do my best to repay you for everything you've done here."

"I'm always exhausted." Forde says with a tired smile. As refreshed as Lyn's dancing made him in the short-term, those battles had taken a lot out of him. But he'll get it back with time, his exhausted state isn't worth worrying Lyn over.

He shakes her hand. "Likewise, I'll be here if you ever need my help. But I hope for both our sakes that we won't need it."

Forde knows this is only the beginning - there's so much they don't know about this place and the prisoner trapped within. But for the moment, they should use this opportunity to relax. Who knows when they'll get to next?

She wasn't sure if she counted the stage being the same as a battlefield, despite the fact that they were nominally battling - the stakes had been so mild thusfar, she couldn't help but feel on the backfoot, as though they were being led to take things less seriously than they were in truth.

"And Fiesta," she acknowledged the horse with an extended palm, eyes creasing as she waited for the horse to greet her in turn. "Your partnership has been something to see - we have many mounted styles of combat on the Sacae, but not many of us are of magical talent. It's a lot of trust needed, to be as one with your mount. I hope that we can extend that trust to one another, as well."

"Nice to meet you Lyn." Forde gladly takes her hand and shakes it with a smile. "You were wonderful on the field. Your dancing was beautiful, and your skills with the sword were a sight to behold."

Now they've gotten a break from the heat of battle and Forde can properly focus on his allies, he realises where he recognises Lyn from (and it's not class, he's ashamed to admit). She's the queen of spades on his Elyosian playing cards (which would be a weird thing to say so he doesn't).

She could have sworn she'd seen the girl come this way, certainly the figure had scurried off once the spotlights had lowered and the crowd had begun to gather again, but it felt almost like she had blinked and the figured had simply evaporated out of existence.

The other pair on the track had certainly taken their bumps, but had proven themselves hardy and resourceful under the pressure - it was not an easy task that had been asked of them, even though it was being presented as just a game, just a show.

Lyn lifted a hand to press against her crown, scratching idly in search, head swiveling about the small space and finding nothing but an unassuming box, and some gentle skittering sounds.

With a sigh, Lyn shook her head, folding the damp washcloth and warm dry towel in her hands, setting them gently onto a nearby shelf.

"I thought you might like to clean up a little bit. I don't know if there are things to eat or drink, but I'll come by in a few minutes if I find something. We need to keep our strength up for...whatever lies ahead."

Her words bounced off the walls and rang back at her, so she sighed again, softer, and turned on her heel to rejoin everyone else. She could only hope the girl heard her.

she's pretty. that's the first reason bernadetta hides. the second is that she's strong—athletic, effortlessly, even if they had all suffered their own share of torment on the track.

and she's the lady of the plains, bernadetta can only assume, because gregory was no lady as far as she knew. (if he wanted to be, that was more than okay. but that was simply as far as bernadetta von varley knew.)

bernadetta wouldn't say she knows a lot of things, but she knows this: kindness is to be cherished, especially that which is spared to worthless rats like her. it sinks into her bones like a slow descent, a weighted blanket. sometimes she thrashes out of its cocoon, too afraid to believe it. she is still learning how to accept it.

and once the footsteps fade, she raises the box to see kindness right on the shelf.

a face only a mother could love, the judge had screamed at her. bernadetta knows that. of course she knows. hers doesn't even amount to that. but she supposes that for all of the falls this very face had taken, it wouldn't do to keep dirt and blood caked in its scrapes.

gentle in her gaze and movements, bernadetta takes the washcloth and warm towel. she stares at them minutely in her lap.

That wasn't her lot, and it didn't seem to be his, either.

"Hey. Doing all right?" She leaned over the side of the couch where he sat, hands clasped behind her. It was still difficult to get a read on this guy, and while she understood why so many in their party swerved around him like avoiding a shark in water, she could not so easily neglect the fact that he had saved her life, and she his.

She didn't seat herself beside him on the couch, but perched on the edge of the arm, crossing arms over her chest to glance about the break room, those who continued to mill about, before she turned back to him, head canted. "It seems like many are preparing to venture forth, to put an end to these shows. What will you do? You didn't seem like you enjoyed the way the crowd was looking at us, near the end."

"Did you?" He swung back on her immediately, turning his head toward her. While whatever had worked its magic on him after the first battle had managed to close up the gashes and bruises from his less-than-elegant run around the track of the last stage, a darkness still clung in half-circles beneath his eyes. But like he'd asserted to Lyn on that very field, it was nothing he couldn't handle. Was he doing alright? Her concern made him itch.

Nevertheless, she seemed earnest about it, just like she'd been earnest about her performance in the race despite how quickly it had become something absurd. Shaking his head, he swung his gaze out over the rest of the "performers" getting ready in the break room and leaned forward to settle his elbows on his knees.

"I just couldn't shake the feeling there was something not right about the audience. Ms. Assistant confirmed it - there's no one here but her and Mr. Drama, so those things were just shades of humanity."

He steepled his fingers together and brought his chin to sit on top while he watched the others, his face all hard lines and sharp metal points.

"An endless fight sounds pretty good though." That was where he'd want to go, ultimately, even if the stage, its lights, and the inhuman crowd soured the whole thing. A silent but lingered in the short span of silence though.

"... Pain's the best thing about living, 'cause it means you are alive, but living's only meaningful if you got death reminding you it's not forever. Here though, all that stuff is just reduced to cheap thrills and shallow spectacle. What's the point of dying if you can get picked right back up again? Especially if you don't have real people in the audience to care."

Maybe it was that he'd already become familiar with Lyn back in Elyos, or maybe it was the tentative sense of teamwork and camaraderie they'd managed to forge out on the track (or maybe it really was the concussion), but he didn't see any reason to scare her off, and for her effort of alighting somewhere near the bloodstained Hound, a rare glimpse of something more ruminative.

Then with a huff, he rose to his feet.

He was harder to find in the crowd, not merely because of his size, but because he never seemed to stop moving. Lyn had seen him during the events of the course, where there had been so many more sky highs and deepest lows than her own, the experience one of extremes for the other team.

Long strides crossed the distance that separated them, and Lyn knelt upon reaching him, tilting head up to beam a dawning smile on him.

"You healed us, didn't you? As you passed by? You didn't have to do that, but I could not be more grateful. You...you probably saved his life," she added, softer, eyes flicking through the crowd, as though she hadn't lost the man in it already.

Turning back to the boy, Lyn cocked her head to one side, extended a hand. "I'm Lyn. I don't know how much longer we're meant to be here, or..."

It stung, to have to think of such a young boy to have to face a captive and to be told to kill him. Her smile pinched, just a touch, but she continued; "Or what lays at the end, for us all. But if you find yourself in need, please find me. I will do what I can."

“Oh! You’re that pretty lady of the plains! Nice to finally get to talk to you.” Ewan noted, a bright smile on his face as she addressed him. The mage had been meaning to approach her before, the lady in question having been the only person at the races he was unfamiliar with. But with the sudden adjustments again it was hard to find a proper time to. Thankfully she approached him first.

“Wow, you noticed that? You must have pretty sharp senses then! Sorry I couldn’t do more though, but my partner and I were a bit, um… occupied.” An awkward giggle followed, thinking back on how they were being pursued at the time. “Glad everything turned out okay though, both for you and the spiky Tattoo man. I just wanted to help, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re a sage!” He probably should add that he’s still in training at this point, but with his ego appealed to the way it was surely it was okay to not mention that just this once. Even if omitting the truth isn’t very sage-y of him, what Teacher doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

As Lyn outstretched her hand, Ewan reciprocated by meeting hers with his own smaller one. “I’m Ewan, number one student of Magvel’s Greatest Sage!” He introduced himself proudly. Though Lyn had her reservations, the boy did not notice it. Honestly, he had all but forgotten about having to kill the captives. His focus had shifted to just trying to survive this odd world they’ve landed in with everyone. That’s why he had his healing staff, to keep everyone safe. And to that end…

She felt bad. No matter how much they had tried to remove him from the center of danger, the fact of the matter was that the crowd had loved him - and the enemies, as well. In all her time, Lyn didn't think she had seen someone so frail withstand so many vicious attacks back to back - not least of which, because she had put herself in the line of danger to prevent it, when able.

But she couldn't do that here, her attention divided, forced to focus on the stiffness of her movements to allow the more powerful among their party to drive them forward to their victory.

She could only thank Father Sky for the solidity of their victory, and Mother Earth that none had gone to lie within her, at the end of it.

"Oh, you still have a little - here - " She reached forward, gently, to pat out the remaining creep of flame along his robes, sighing as they sparked in the dark air as they were corralled along and forward into the dark unknown.

"You need to see a healer - come, if you need to lean on me, I'll gladly take you wherever you need to go. I don't quite understand what's happening here, but I do know that whatever may come, I want you to rely on me."

POST BATTLE (WEEK 1)

※— HER SMILE WAS THE MOST DANGEROUS PART ABOUT HER. He’d seen enough of them to know. Smiles were shields, not banners, and hers had been honed into a weapon so cleanly that even the enemy might think themselves blessed to be cut by it. Changed by it. Men with weaker constitutions would bleed until their colors changed, thinking themselves more because they were made less in her light.

"Yes," he said easily, his own mouth curving just enough to mirror her. "Your back to mine. I remember."

The words were warm enough to pass for sentimentality, but something behind them lingered—an unspoken reminder that he hadn’t asked for her protection, and he’d survived long before she’d decided to stand between him and the flames.

His gaze followed her hand as she brushed away the embers, eyes briefly tracing the heat’s last glow against her fingers. He didn’t flinch at the contact. In fact, he might as well have allowed her to linger.

"You’re very thorough," Julius murmured, voice light. "But you waste that kind of care on me."

When she offered for him to lean on her, he tilted his head just slightly, the gesture caught between amusement and curiosity. So touch-driven, these ones. He wasn't. He never really was. The women in his past company were the nurturing kind, and the troves of admirers served him on their knees. Though he had an aversion to it, touch held as much power, if not more, than a mere gaze. So he knew how to use it to his advantage.

"..."

The faintest pause, like a string pulled taut.

"But if you insist—" the corner of his mouth curled a fraction more, "—I’ll let you. I am not used to people like you."

She didn't want to count her blessings, but the fewer of the dead to content with, the better. For their part, they all seemed sound of body, with minimal injury taken. The swordsman had shrugged his strikes off through some magic, but their mage...

"Hey, are you all right?" The question was about more than the vicious strikes of electricity that had come down upon the librarian, but it wasn't something she was brushing aside either. He was still on his feet, but to continue being electrocuted would surely begin to take its toll, and that last strike was distressing to behold.

"If you need to take a moment to rest, I think it's a good time." In spite of her reservations, Lyn kept her voice level, and kind. She attempted a smile, and held out her hand. "I don't think we've been introduced just yet. My name is Lyn. I know I haven't done much yet, but I intend to give this my all to ensure that everyone returns home safely - I hope we can rely on one another."

SHE IS CAPABLE OF USING EVERYTHING BUT HER EYES, POOR THING. Did he look alright?

“I will see a healer after this.” Was how he chose to answer. He looked and felt like his head was splitting, seams coming undone, but her concern felt like a hang-nail. Just enough to be bothersome. Yet just enough to bother answering. It is a subtle gesture, but it struck him odd. Why bother caring for a stranger she has no knowledge of? To what end and what use was empathy given?

The reciprocal nature of niceties is lost on him, for it generates little to nothing but empty exchanges. But in that emptiness, human nature was unpredictable. “Lyn.” He mouthed the name, foreign. He would have to take on her skin, shadow the aspects of humanity that gave them resilience. A mirror for mirror.

“I am Julius.” His gaze, though restrained under a docile mask, was constituted of a regal gravity that had been built, brick by brick, by his birthright. Still eyes, steady—having already discerned that her ilk was much like Baldr’s kin.

A flat palm rested on his chest. “Are you alright?”

(Haven’t done much yet, she says.) An admission of fault that felt a little heavy handed. Always so humble, these ones. The truth was— those who recognized that they’ve done very little only have two choices. To speak without meaning, or to perform until they find meaning. He will see, in due time, the kind of person she was, and whether her force of fate was cursed like the rest of them.

what the young ones call "the k" | no longer accepting!

43. a clumsy kiss | fell AU (or more like what if they locked tf in and didn't lose lyn immediately)

She intrigues her. Yes, as a whole all of the emblems intrigue her. They all shine through, even in the most emotionless darkness. And yet right now, she intrigues her more than the rest.

It could all change in a blink as the day passes. Or perhaps for a longer blink that lasts a decade, it is hard to tell. But Zephia silences those nihilistic thoughts temporarily as she slips the thin ring onto her finger. Emblem Lyn reveals herself no longer than a second after.

To an extent, the attempt is foolish. In their hands, the emblems are no better than tools to serve all of their needs. From there, all the rings should be admired for their strengths in battle, nothing else. Yet the dragon looks up at the red-eyed, red-haired lady floating idly in front of her. Looking for something to satiate her hunger for knowledge.

The emblem stares back, or at least it seems like it. It can be difficult to tell what they are thinking in this state, or if anything is on their minds in the first place. Does Zephia even remember what Emblem Lyn was like before under their grasp? No, of course not. Even then…the girl does not feel like the other emblems.

A closer look. That will help. Zephia brings her ringed hand up only to push it down. Lyn obeys and hovers lower for the Mage Dragon. She leans in closer…then closer…

…until she realizes it’s too close. Easier to gauge with a human over an emblem. Zephia lets out a dissatisfied hum as she proceeds to back away, but the damage has already been done. She can tell that her lips pressed on the ethereal being on her cheek. Too close to the emblem’s own lips.

Before she can risk seeing the reaction - if any - from Lady Lyn, Zephia hurriedly unequips the ring. She hastily places the ring back down on its pedestal, with the least amount of delicacy she can offer. Then just as hastily, she leaves the chamber.