#thunderbranded

the ground rushes to meet him / or perhaps its the other way around / a body crashing against his and it’s futile and it’s foolish and IT’S AN ACT OF DESPERATION MORE SO THAN ANYTHING but he finds himself sprawled and partially pinned and a blade descending to / meet him / his throat / the core of him ———— this enemy is larger than he is to be certain but acting rashly and foolishly and far too quickly, movements jagged and ragged and pieced together in a mockery of HUMANITY and felix twists / and the blade sinks itself into the earth and catches as his knees heave up and bury themselves into that abdomen / a wheezing shout squeezes itself out of that throat as he shoves his elbow into their nose. BLOOD SPRAYS and his mouth twists and the humanoid form rears itself back and he takes the opening : shoving his feet against that broad chest.

FREEDOM WON and blood pounding and heart racing and his neck is bleeding and ah. he’s been cut. barely a scratch and he returns it in kind / blade slicing against the pale expanse of that neck as he twists / and his foot meets skull / and they fall down. dead.

it had been an ambush, an arguably skilled one at that but for the fact that they had underestimated him sorely and now five lay dead all around him / or in the process of dying and groaning and half weeping. his breath comes quickly and there’s blood ———— everywhere. everywhere.

and when a noise sounds from behind him he twists, defensive and on edge and oh how his heart claws at the cage of his chest and WISHES TO BURST OUT AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN / but he swallowed it long ago and he swallows it now / and his blade swings in a sure blow halted by the solidity of catherine’s blade so easily sweeping it aside.

there’s a hand on his shoulder mere moments later and she presses close and adrenaline pumps through his veins and pumps through her veins and it’s as if their mere presences AMPLIFY EACH OTHER as his heart and his lungs and his very blood raise themselves ever higher into a raucous chorus of battle-song and the siren call thereof / that still ringing clash of blades.

❝ are you alright? ❞ she’s speaking just too loud and he finds himself staring at her / a sensation of disbelief crawling over his skin and burrowing deep and curling around his musculature and infesting his bones ———— everything happens too quickly and there hadn’t been enough time and there isn’t enough time and he BREATHES. he breathes. he breathes.

IT WOULD BE A LIE to say that he’s soothed by her presence and the protection that she brings. quite the lie indeed. no, her and her form and her skill and her glowing ancient relic that cries HOLY, HOLY with each enemy that it cuts down do not inspire calm in him. not by half. not even close. his fingers tighten around the hilt of his blade.

❝ i’m fine, ❞ his thoughts linger on how easily she had blocked him and his strike and how if she had WISHED TO KILL HIM she could have done so easily. so easily. far too easily and his blood threatens to run cold at the mere concept of that. his helplessness in the face of HER AND HER SKILL / but instead it burns brighter / the burning of wintertide / at the idea of BESTING HER ONE DAY. one day. one day. ❝ i had it handled. the enemy was little threat to me. ❞

❝ so you are, ❞ her hand squeezes against his shoulder as she considers the carnage that lies around them and he wonders if she’s impressed. wonders if he truly cares whether or not she’s impressed / if he cares for her approval at all ———— no. no. he cares little for what people think of him / only for bettering himself / only for IMPROVING HIS SKILLS / for surpassing her, one day. because she’s one of the best. one of the fucking best. ❝ i guess i didn’t have to worry after all. you dealt with them well. ❞

❝ ———— thank you, ❞ his head tilts and his heart pounds. further away, now. far away. muted against the control that has returned to him : finally, finally, finally.

❝ it was a bit close there at the end. ❞

❝ i know. a minor lapse in judgment. ❞

PREPARE TO BE PRESSED // accepting if ur muse hasn’t been done !

no .just no

✎ to draw your muse || NOT ACCEPTING.

m. miss catherine please. please dm me back,

such a macabre charade. a disgusting play at honoring.

❝ you don’t depend wholly on your crest or your relic, ❞ a bland observation, if nothing else / but there’s a fissure in the ice / a hint of SOMETHING ELSE that settles deep in his tone / something that broadens it / dulls the edge of his words / lessens the blow of them ever so slightly. something like respect. ❝ your abilities stand even with rusted steel in hand. i aim to surpass you, one day. ❞

❝ i was considering, ❞ an announcement of the self without so much as a by your leave in spite of the fact that CLASS IS IN SESSION / though he continues through his warm ups with a fluidity entire at odds with the fact that he is speaking with minimal effort. it is minor exertion, after all, and his breaths are measured as he twists / and continues, without looking at her truly, ❝ the theory of infusing my weapons with my magic, professor. ❞

          naivete & a sense of adventure had led to a most awful misstep, making the lives of thoses around him much, much more difficult. even if none had been lost, it was ferdinand’s own insistence of taking on a whole group of bandits on his own that had required that he be rescued by the knights of seiros that had also been assigned to the mission. never break formation --- that was the first rule of any outing like this, & he’d disobeyed it. still, he does not expect such harsh reprimand from the esteemed catherine ... it’s disheartening.

     ❝ truly, your skill with the sword is admirable. ❞

axe lowers to her side, facing the woman after she downed the last of their foes. the opportunity to observe such a famed warrior up close did not come by often, let alone the chance to fight at her side. her abilities were, without a doubt, worthy of praise.

but it was a shame those skills were being put to waste, serving under rhea.