Toxic Love: The Exalt Oracle

[beleos]

NOTHING GOES OFF WITHOUT A HITCH

You feel it, the moment that the Exalt oracle opens its eyes, like something that rips through your body from head to toe, something that feel like fire, wild. It sears into your veins, like acid and fire, something that triggers something that makes you want to run, or perhaps turn and face something head on. Before you can find what sets you off – if you could find it. Bearers know what this sensation is, it is different but the same at its core. The emotions, the feelings it sparks are different – but in the end, you know it for what it is: An Oracle.

Kenos groans from the awakening, like a part of a whole sparks to life, and though you do not know what it is that they want yet, you understand and know their existence down to your core. That feeling to attack or defend, perhaps even flee, does not leave you, but instead it fills your veins, you feel it thrumming, pulsing, like the beat of a heart – if one has one. With the sense of awakening, bearers know the shape of what comes next, they will be asked to act, to do. You do not know how it will happen, or what the Exalt will ask of you, but the knowledge that it will happen is borne from experience, not from the Oracle itself.

As you begin to move, to… look, you are not long for this day, it clouds your mind, a hazy, drowsy feeling takes over, the encroaching dark that threatens to swarm, crowding from the sides, taking over your vision – until… it fully takes over, and Bearers are put into a deep slumber.

---

When bearers awaken, it’s difficult to make sense of what your sleepy eyes see. Structures begin to swim into view, and they like tall figures looking down upon you. It’s difficult to tell what they are at first, but as you wake up, you begin to see, they are not people, or creatures, but long spore-like stalks. Some have ribbed overgrowths that you can see, and some end in growths that ripple and hang over, but have no “cap”. They tower over the bearers, like towering spires and buildings, on all sides, as if they were trapped in a ring of them. As bearers look around them they will notice tall green spires around them as well, and it takes a moment for things to really settle in. Mushrooms. Blades of grass. The springy moss about them is almost as tall as they are, low to the ground. There are pebbles that appear as boulders, and the thunderous steps nearby indicate an insect or arachnid walking by, far larger than you. There is a stillness to this space, like a held breath, and as the bearers awake, and regard one another, and then to the center of the circle is – a small effigy in the center.

It is here, the Exalt Oracle, and you feel compelled to regard it, before you are given a pang down to your core. It compels you – pleads, asks, begs, and demands, all in one – for what it wishes for. Precious mementos and precious items that they are missing. They have been lost, and they are somewhere within the Liosachán. It beseeches the bearers to return its items, and begs they be returned here to the circle. There are no words, but there is a pleading sensation, a feeling that these items are treasured by this Oracle.

You feel at your sides, your pockets, and find one item on your person, a weapon, a companion, whatever it is you would bring with you to the conflict, shrunk down to a tiny size with you.

Stay steadfast, bearers, and capture the flag Oracle!

SURVIVAL OF THE SMALLEST ( DAYS 1 - 5 )

Unlike the still, stale apocalypse that had been the setting of the Iconoclast Oracle, the greenhouse is lush and vibrant with activity.

The Effigy present within yearns to be reunited with what belongs to it, fixated upon the five items lost within the greenhouse. The swell of its longing fills all Shardbearers, urging them to take action, claim the items and present all five to it to attain victory for that Faction.

Over a period of ten days, Shardbearers of both factions will have to navigate environmental dangers, and the normal procession of time, as the greenhouse is going about its daily routine. Workers plod around like towering goliaths, weeding and watering and pruning the greenhouse's contents. The Liosachán's native population of fae begin to take notice of the newcomers in their midst, emerging from grassy mounds hidden in the natural landscape to spy and pry about the newness surrounding them.

Naturally curious, and equally dangerous, the fae of the Liosachán are Highstorm natives. They range in cool coloration, from soft violet-greys to deep stormy blues, and wear clothes fashioned from of goods pilfered from the pockets of workers, dropped on the ground or handcrafted from the environment itself. Wielding bits of copper tightly wound into blades and spears, they are a ferocious and cunning little people who seek to trick, trap and toy with Shardbearers. Direct violence is anathema to them, but violence that happens as a result of falling to one of their ploys is a badge of honor.

DAY ONE - THREE. The Effigy initially urges Shardbearers to build bases of operation for defense and practicality, as surviving ten days without supporting one another is a surefire way to meet a grisly, tiny little end. Resources must be gathered: gather food and water, prepare shelter, establish unity and organization and prepare to set off into the wilds soon.

For Shardbearers demonstrating particular selflessness, favoring the protection and defense of another, the Effigy responds warmly from the third day onward — rewarding them with a sign of their dutiful nature towards others in the form of fairy wings, the form of which are unique to the Shardbearer themselves.

DAY FOUR. The sudden thunderous sound of a storm begins. No, not a storm, the tumble and crash of water pouring down upon the greenhouse — the workers of the Liosachán perform their routines faithfully, after all. In watering the garden, the danger of the environment threatens to overtake Shardbearers and their work alike. Drops of water fall, their size equal or larger than even the tallest of characters, and trickles of water muddy the ground in the form of raging rapids.

The security of Meridian and Zenith's camps is even called into question, because as simple as the act of watering a garden is, it is a nightmarish situation for such itty bitty Bearers to be in!

DAY FIVE. By day five, the fae of the Liosachán no longer lurk and linger in the corner of one's eye. They make themselves known, having prepared a banquet below one of the mushrooms, within sight of the Effigy. A table draped in spider-silk lace awaits any Bearer who comes near enough, the sagging piece of driftwood polished to a gleam with golden sap, leaving it waterproofed and pretty to behold. A handful of corks serve as seating, with most of the fae draping themselves across scraps of cotton as though they are simply at a picnic.

They invitingly wave to Shardbearers, chattering brightly in their foreign, lilting tongue, waving tiny sandwiches and little clay pots full of jams and honeys, brandishing sugared berries that they bite into with gusto, staining their arms and faces in swathes of blue and red. They clearly are welcoming to whomever comes upon them, urging them to avail themselves to the bounty they have prepared. Perhaps some characters know better than to eat the food of the fae, recalling legends and lore about the mystical properties and implicit bargains made in becoming a guest. Perhaps some have no idea, and are simply hungry enough to dig in!

UNWILLING TEN-ANTS ( DAYS SIX - EIGHT )

The scuttling, scrabbling feet of ants crawling over surfaces, winding their way through this grassy playground, has become normal. Their feet thunder as they go about their business, and it seems to be a normal cadence to life here in the underbrush, in the greenhouse. It is normal, and it is has become nothing to really concern oneself with. They are ants, after all, what do they do, but work? Endlessly, continuously.

That is, until the heavy, loud sounds of their feet draw closer to whatever place that the bearers have found to camp in. Whether solitary or as a group, these workers are no longer content to simply ignore the bearers, but they are a curiosity, perhaps even a bother. You have disrupted their lifestyle. The sleepy pattern of obtain food, return ot the hive, and back out again now has obstacles. Now there are not simply the fairies, who live their own lives and existences, a part of the ecosystem, but now there are these tiny bearers. Fighting, working together, arguing and disagreeing.

You are disruptive to their way of life.

The ants have come to collect on this due, and some bearers that are vulnerable, or perhaps merely caught, are taken away, your weight so light compared to the rest of their burdens that they carry. The strength of these ants is overwhelming, incredible at this size, and try as you might, if you are caught in their strong mandibles, you cannot escape. An ant, after all, carries 1000 times their weight with those powerful jaws. You, bearer, are nothing to them.

They squirrel away the bearers within their hill, a complicated network of tunnels, junctions, and large spaces. Down within, where the air becomes stifling, and stale. The ants guard their pray, and you get the distinct sense that they see you not as people, not even as enemies, but as prey. You will be food – perhaps to the eggs that are gathered within this room, where you can see the stirring of new life, just beneath the surface. You may not have very long to live, if these little larvae get their mouths on you.

Or perhaps, your friends will save you? Once it is discovered that bearers are missing, the trail of ant prints on the ground is apparent – they are not stealthy creatures – and the feet lead from the locations of several kidnapped bearers toward the grainy ant hill that lies not far away. The hill itself swarms with life, with worker ants all over the surface, scuttling about, looking for the next meal for te colony. Or perhaps for more bearers to bring back for their young.

It will be dangerous, bearers, to save your friends. Should you choose to do so, you will be kicking the anthill, and the ants will protect what is theirs. Even if they just took it. Those bearers belong to them, now! Rescuers will find not only your average worker ant, ready to defend, but winged male ants will attack from above, and deeper, within the nest, near where the bearers are kept, lies the strongest ant in the colony: The Queen. Staggeringly large, strong, and vicious, when her subjects begin dying. She will do everything in her power to protect her colony, and that includes killing bearers, if need be. Or trying, at least.

Good luck rescuing your friends, bearers!

IN SMALL PACKAGES ( DAYS NINE - TEN )

The day after the ant-pocalypse brings with it the brush of recognition — the Effigy has foreseen the likely victors, and calls to them to approach it once they have suitably recovered. It judges them the ones whom are most devoted to what binds them, loyal to memory and remembrance, and begins to clamor for them to restore to it what belongs rightfully. Thus begins a full day of resting, locating last-minute items, shoring up defenses and preparing for the sprint to the finish line.

Certainly your rivals will not allow you to simply walk to the Effigy unassailed and unchallenged.

Eat, rest, ensure your fellows are close and bolstered, for tomorrow begins the final rally.

On the morning of the tenth day, Meridian Shardbearers approach the Effigy with its five items in hand. In the midst of the mushroom ring, the Effigy stands as it had in the beginning — arms outstretched and back bowed skyward, gnarled fingers seeking contact with that which has been lost to it. It awaits, it strains, and even as it does, it requires one last test of ability. From the shadows of the towering mushrooms, the rasp of scale and soft hiss of a great beast descends upon the fae ring.

A gleaming garden snake, with glossy black and green stripes, blocks the way between approaching Shardbearers and the Effigy.

Between its bright eyes, pressed upon its brow is a scattering of brighter scales that appear to be in the shape of a delicate, three-leafed plant with spiraling patterns for leaves. It braces itself against the approach, and there is no doubt that to claim victory, the serpent must be subdued. Though Meridian approaches with victory in hand, they have not yet attained it — their rival faction and this beast remain in their way.

MISSING LINKS ( THROUGHOUT )

As the Effigy desires to be reunited with what belongs to it, the swell of its longing stirs something more within all present Shardbearers.

With that foreign longing arrives knowledge: beyond the five items prized by the Effigy itself, there are other lost things within the greenhouse. Like a compass, each Shardbearer's mind points them in direction after direction, urging them to seek and explore. Implicitly, the thrum of comprehension fills your mind: these are things that do not belong to you, per se, but seek to have your hands ferry them home.

Amidst tangled brush, hidden under doffed acorn cap, tucked away in the belly of a fae's glittering den, lost in the depths of a puddle of spilled water that seems an insurmountable lake now, folded secretly into the petals of a towering, skyscraper-like flower, there are three additional items hidden within the tumultuous landscape that each Shardbearer feels a draw towards. Things that belong to someone else, eager to be reunited with them, but subject to whim.

Upon locating and retrieving one, the Shardbearer is filled with a sense of information — they know who this item belongs to, and they will know that they have a choice. Bonds are fragile things after all, and they exist to be enforced or abused, in order to advance a goal or to deepen a connection. How will you treat someone's precious bond? How will they treat yours?

NOTES

Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle! — The theme of this Oracle is a loose edition of capture the flag, where the Effigy's items can pass through multiple hands within the ten day allotment.

— For additional ideas and fun, it is known that several Shardbearers have concluded their efforts to fulfill the Greenwood Yards' sidequest request.

— All details of the Exalt Oracle can be found here, and questions for the mods can be submitted here.

CODING

Comments

OTA

[fishfearme]

❋ I. Familiar Grounds (Day 1-3)

[While the whole shrinking thing was an entirely new experience for Byleth, finding himself in the 'wilderness' with no access to the conveniences or amenities of civilisation was blessedly familiar. It was automatic for him, to fallback on comfortable routine on securing a safe camp in otherwise unfamiliar and wildgrown ground.

So, over the first three days he can be found buzzing about like a busy bee in an area he staked as 'his' - or anyone's really, he's happy to share. Close to the pond - to serve as a water source - but not so close that it's on the very shoreline and thus exposed to the predatory dragonflies or frogs, Byleth set up a small and simple camp within a clump of thick, flowering weeds. He's not yet focused on hunting down the Effigies' objects, and therefore isn't interested in picking fights with Zenith. Survival first.

Anyone roaming near his camp area may come across him scouting the immediate area, on guard for threads, or trying to secure a source of food. He might even be trying to finagle a way to use a hollowed out, small acorn to store water from the pond so he's less likely to get attacked by frogs. Though, maybe one of those frogs might end up being a good meal... hm.

Feel free to approach! Or, if you're clearly struggling living in the woods with barely anything to your name, he might approach you in case you need help...]

❋ II. It's raining! (Day 4)

[Byleth's preparations had paid off, though admittedly having giant raindrops fall on them hadn't been something he'd predicted! While initially caught off guard, he had managed to reach his camp as the "rain" began to fall, watching the large globs of water crash down from the heavens and leave dangerous pools of water for unwary Shard-bearers to fall into.

If you're seeking shelter, maybe you can see him standing in the entrance of his little campsite sheltered by the flowering weeds and decide to race towards him to get out of the splash zone! Or maybe you're caught in the deluge and cry for help, in which case he'd leave the safety of his camp to lend a hand... hopefully both of you won't come into difficulty!]

❋ III. Don't eat the food! (Day 5)

[As much as an unwary glutton Byleth could be, even he knew that partaking in anything a fairy offered was a bad idea. The mercenaries he had ran with came from various lands and cultures, offering tales and stories that painted for more devious gods and entities than the highly sanitised deity the Church of Seiros worshipped.

It was a shame, though... the food on offer looked very tempting and delicious, but Byleth refrained. Instead he lurked on the edges of the banquet, cutting an ominous figure amongst the mushroom's shade as he scanned the area for any friendly or just familiar faces.

And when he isn't looking for familiar faces? He's staring blankly into space. Of course, he isn't quite thinking of where he's directing that empty-headed stare towards, so you might end up feeling a shiver crawl up your spine and looking up to see him, no thoughts head empty, staring you down with an unblinking stare.

Unnerving...]

❋ IV. Wildcard (Day ???)

[Hit me with a scenario across any day and I'll roll with it! Or if there's something you want to plot out, just hit me on discord or plurk and I can hash out a closed starter!]

III

[alliterating]

What's that look for?

[ Byleth has caught Sentience's attention. Or maybe Sentience noticed what looks like a stare in her direction. She returns it with a much more active narrowed glance.

She remembers this guy (vaguely). What's up with him right now? ]

[fishfearme]

[Slow blink and Byleth mentally returned to this plane of existence.]

Hm? What?

[alliterating]

You're staring. Why?

[ She's a bit blunt. But maybe that's refreshing? ]

[fishfearme]

I'm not staring. I was thinking.

[He had no idea he'd been staring at her.]

[alliterating]

Thinking about what?

[ She's gonna be direct and kinda rude here. ]

wildcard

[damnpire]

[Sometimes, an evil old man debuffs you!!! And then ants carry you away.

In the winding tunnels, someone has managed to break out of holding with surprising superhuman strength. It's... a child? They can't be any older than ten. If it wasn't for the familiar gaudy, gothic (shrunk) outfit and the beautiful features, they'd look like a completely different person. The long hair from before has been cropped close to the head. The hair has been stolen, but the ridiculously long eyelashes remain.

It's definitely a miniature D, with a too long cape and a missing hat.

His eyes glow carnelian red in the dark, subdued like embers of a fire. A couple of ant guards are trying to round him up again since he's becoming a half-vampire nusance. One ant has the end of the long cape in its mandibles, using it to drag D along the ground. Back to the ant pen!

He's attempting to dig his heels and his hands into the ground, but strangely, he isn't crying out or calling for help? Stubborn.]

[fishfearme]

[After hearing that some Shard-bearers had been kidnapped by ne'er-do-well ants, Byleth of course ambled off to go see if he could do a jailbreak - provided the Shard-bearers needed any help at all. Even shrunken down to the miniscule size, some of them were absolute monsters...

So, when Byleth arrived, having navigated the winding ant tunnels by sticking his nose into the air and following the scent of anything 'Not Ant' or 'Not Ant Food' (which turned out to range from unfortunate bugs to pieces of rotten food yuck), he ended up rather close to where D was being dragged off. Upon spotting a small humanoid figure being menaced by a stubborn worker ant, Byleth leapt into heroic action!

Or, rather, he just sent a puff of sparking flame directly at the ant's head, forcing it to release the little tyke's cape when it instinctively skittered away from the flash of heat and smoke. Taking advantage of the moment, he swooped in and picked up the victim like he was a shopping bag: that is, he just grabbed a fistful of cape near the scruff and picked him up like that.]

Excuse me. [He's... talking to the ant, not D.] I know you're only attempting to find food to feed your nest, but I can't let you-

[The ant, seemingly uninterested in Byleth's attempt at reasoning (???) or apologising (???), charged, mandibles clicking viciously - echoed by its brethren always skittering over to subdue the escaping foodstuff.]

-ah... alright then.

[RUN AWAY!!!!! While still carrying D like a shopping bag. Enjoy!]

[damnpire]

[them

Luckily (unluckily?) for Byleth, the full hold of childhood has not taken D completely. His body may have shrunk humiliatingly, but his mind is still the same edgy stoic. He hangs there like a kitten, face deadpan. His voice is just as soft, yet so much higher...]

Byleth.

[Which is all he says before Byleth starts trying to talk to the ants and hauling ass. Why must he suffer so embarrassingly? His whole body sways back and forth as Byleth runs along with the cape caught near the nape.]

More are coming on the right.

[He can see in the dark, but more than that, he can hear them skittering. Well, with both of them tiny, he can hear them stomping through the tunnels.]

[fishfearme]

Seen.

[Byleth had heard them as well, and he made a snap decision to turn down a tunnel to their left. Behind them, it felt like a veritable army of fast-paced, multi-legged giants were on their tail, clicking and chittering with mandibles that could bite them in two if they were careless (was this how the space marines felt in Starship Troopers). Any mercenary would feel stressed or even panicked about their predicament. Not Byleth, no. He lifted D up higher, adjusting his grip so that his arm was wrapped around his belly instead, letting him dangle like a sack of potatoes instead of a shopping bag, and considered his next move.

...could he use Ragnarok, small as he was? Some lava wouldn't go amiss here.]

One moment.

[It was a tricky thing, charging a spell while moving, but Byleth had perfected that art long ago while most mages were content to prioritise magical strength over versatility by standing in place and trying not to get stabbed in the face. Once he had finished the wind up, quick and dirty as it was, he stopped abruptly, pivoted and flung his hand out, the spell igniting-!

Or- well. Not as dramatic as that. The loose soil sort of... broke apart and bubbling mud kind of oozed up from the cracks. A far cry from Ragnarok's usual cataclysmic eruption of molten rock and brimstone that would crack the land open like an egg. No. Just. Tiny little boiling mud puddle. Barely deep enough to drown a fly in. Oozing over the floor. Ominously.]

Hm.

[Even the encroaching ants had stopped, all of them staring at the bubbling mud puddle for a long moment.]

That was supposed to be bigger.

[damnpire]

[Byleth is terrible with children. Then again, he wonders (while he still can) if he would also be this atrocious at carrying someone else if he had to move quickly? Maybe he would carry a child under the arm, too.

He continues to hang there without struggle, knowing that kicking up a fuss would make things worse. He glances in the direction where Byleth whips around, watching... the inner lining of the tunnel erupt into hot mud.

Amazing.]

You are small.

[Says the even tinier D. These ants really could step on him and snap him in half.]

We should keep going up. More workers will be waiting.

I

[envoyoftwilight]

[Midna had, in one way or another, figured that this entire misadventure of the shrunken kind would result in her playing the role of the Beautiful Vagabond, who surfed from one settlement to another. When she thought about it for more than a moment, she found it suited her, given a particular dislike to tying herself down to any one idea or feeling aside from her leadership position. Much easier to avoid making connections with others that went, in her own opinion, too deeply.

Finding Byleth was just one more sight for sore eyes. It wasn't that she assumed he'd at least let her rest her feet for a little (though certainly a part of her did think that to be the case), but if they weren't enemies, then they were like akin to whatever the opposite of that was. And she wasn't willing to say 'friend.'

She had to look a little worse for wear, given that she hadn't really made her own shelter except half-assed attempts that offered her the very bare minimum. For a princess, she was living far beneath what she was accustomed to and she gathered she was starting to look it. Given that Byleth wasn't far from water, however, and she was at least aware of that, she'd made a little pledge to herself to have a nice little dip before she eventually continued along her way to the next unfortunate victim of her mooching.]

Oh, look at you. [She greeted him with slow footsteps that once had more life in them and were taken over by the toil of the movement. How many days had it been? Two, perhaps, since this whole thing had begun?] Fitting right in, aren't you. One might think you to be a little woodland creature.

[At least she could still make slightly snide remarks.]

[fishfearme]

[At sensing an approach, Byleth was initially on guard, but upon recognising the figure to be the rather mysterious Midna, he relaxed immediately. She had caught him whilst he was in the process of sorting through thin, reedy grass that he'd gathered to use for campfires or shoring up the roof in case of 'rain', and he already had a few thick bundles all tied up and stacked in a neat pile outside of his cosy little shelter.]

This was how I lived prior to Kenos. So it's familiar to me.

[Really, he found it refreshing! Though, he was sort of missing the home he had made, with his books and his plushies...]

You, however, look rather worse for wear. Do you need supplies or help building your own shelter?

[envoyoftwilight]

[Someone needs to teach Byleth how to speak to women. Or, at least how to speak to women like Midna. One ought to never tell her she looks worse for wear, but given that he doesn't even know how old he is, the princess of Twilight suspects that there are probably quite a few more things that he just doesn't know as much as she thinks he should.

He can live.

But she doesn't have to like how truthful his statement likely is. Huffing out a breath of disdain, or disapproval, or something akin to displeasure, Midna lifts a hand to flick at some loose orange and blonde hanging down over her collar.]

I'm not a charitable person, but this little piece of advice I'll offer you for free. Don't tell women when they look 'worse for wear.' You'll live longer.

[She'll get to the rest of what he's said in a moment. First thing's first—education!]

[fishfearme]

[Byleth's stare: it's uncomprehending.]

...but you do look worse for wear.

[He's a lost cause, Midna.]

I've told many women the same thing before, and my lifespan hasn't changed.

[Granted, those women had all been mercenaries who were all mostly either a) scared shitless of him, the Ashen Demon or b) deeply respected him because he was the boss's kid (and the Ashen Demon). If he said you looked like shit, then you would nod your head and say "yes, Ashen Demon, sir, I sure do!"

...unless you were an enemy mercenary, but the murder attempt was going to happen regardless.]

Also, it's a little callous to ignore someone in need of aid, isn't it? And... singling out women too... that's a little strange...

I

[gravings]

[ Gray has mostly been out and about in these early days, making use of her speed and mobility to nab items and point out resources as much as possible before the Zenites can come around. For the moment though she's sat up on a high leaf, having a snack for a recharge while keeping an eye on the perimeter. Byleth is toiling away below her, and she's content to listen to the steady sound of his work in lieu of conversation.

She pauses mid-bite into her tiny slice of berry when a massive shape approaches overhead. Many giant shadows pass over them now, so in a way this is nothing out of the ordinary, but her instincts are ablaze with alarm. And sure enough, the shape fails to pass peacefully by, instead coming rapidly closer...

She only has time for a quick warning— ]

Mr. Byleth!

Before she goes diving off her perch with a huge, swooping beak following closely behind. ]

[fishfearme]

[The toiling he'd been doing was tearing down tall blades of grass to act as materials for shelter or to be repurposed into 'firewood' for when night fell. Gray had been a boon in acting as a 'lookout' while he worked, letting him concentrate fully on his task without having to pause every other minute to peer around him suspiciously. In this land, being this small, every rustle or flash of movement could be a dangerous threat. Even something as benign as a dormouse was dangerous now.

No sooner had this thought crossed his mind did he hear Gray shout a warning, and he immediately dodged away from the blade of grass he'd been painstakingly ripping with his bare hands - just as his world was suddenly filled with a flutter of dark feathers and aggressive, ear-splitting chirping.

The invader landed far heavier than any bird should have. It towered over him like a demonic beast, its black feathers looking almost navy blue beneath the sunlight. Its bright orange beak stood out the most, as well as its beady eyes as it tilted its head to inspect the the 'insect' it had stumbled across.]

A blackbird.

[Byleth said it without thinking - grimly - and quickly cast a glance around for Gray. She hadn't been gobbled up had she?]

[gravings]

[ Gray has seen plenty of blackbirds as a normal-sized person, but it's another thing trying to identify one that's coming at her like an airborne skyscraper... so she's grateful for Byleth's quick ID on it.

He'll catch Gray skidding and hopping between blades of grass until she touches down nearby. She's mindful to use the grass as cover as she unstraps the lone weapon that got shrunk along with her: a no-nonsense glaive. She glances to Byleth, expression solemn. ]

It might be trouble if it finds the rest of the camp...

[fishfearme]

[Byleth agreed. Though the bird wasn't really doing anything wrong, it'd cause a considerable amount of damage just hopping through it! And if he recalled correctly, blackbirds hunted predominantly on the ground, so it'd trash it thoroughly... not getting into how it could gobble them up in one peck if it was fast enough.]

We should lead it away... or scare it off.

[Unlike Gray, Byleth's only weapon was his knife, which wasn't long enough to penetrate past the bird's layer of feathers. Which left...]

I'll see if a fire spell will work. Gray, you dis-

[The rest of his plan was cut off when the bird - finally satisfied in its examination of the situation - lunged for him, its orange beak spearing down on him. Byleth hurriedly dodged- and dodged again when the bird chased after him stubbornly.

There was no way he could cast a spell with this bird practically on his heels!]

i

[prizeneck]

[It's not the first time he's set in the wild, either, even if he lost his shades.

In fact, he had eschewed said techy and helpful sunglasses out of his own volition the last time he had ventured into the woods.

(For a 'stroll', he had claimed. Catch some fresh air, touch some grass.)

He is, in fact, touching grass, the back of his hand on a green blade, guiding him before he crouches in the distance as he hears the steps of someone he knows. Thankfully the decrease in size (and wasn't that one hell of a conclusion to make, when he can't see) doesn't change someone's gait, so he can recognize Byleth straight away.]

Nice pad. [He says, eventually when he nears the camp.]

[fishfearme]

[Byleth had been busy collecting said grass, an endeavour that was harder than it should be with how staggeringly tall the blades were. They were their equivalent of trees now, but thankfully not as sturdy as one, as Byleth had been able to rip them down with his bare hands... it just took considerably more effort.

The reason why? To shore up his shelter and to collect the equivalent of 'firewood' that wasn't damp moss. He was in the process of tidying up the small pile of grass he'd collected so far when he heard someone approach his camp. It was only because he recognised the gait as human, rather than the skittering of an insect or the thunderous thumping of a squirrel or dormouse, that he didn't startle.]

...Mamoru. Hello.

[He straightened up, planting his hands on his hips as he studied the other man.]

Are you looking for a place to rest? I'm more than happy to share my hearth with you.

[Metaphorical hearth, that is.]

II(ish) - lmk if anything needs changing

[erbe]

[Downpour becomes deluge. Unfortunately as the watering goes on the "unusually large rain" turns into a stream. Which to the shard-bearers participating in the Oracle's little "game" seems to be a raging river. It roars and forms rapids not too far from Byleth's campsite. If Byleth isn't careful (or if the stream gets more added to it quickly) he might get caught in the quickly moving body of water. Rin is not too far off — down stream she was actually taking shelter under a cherry tomato vine. Its leaves and fruit providing good shields from the water, but also allowing her a over-view of the immediate area.]

[fishfearme]

[Byleth made the mistake of venturing too far from his campsite when the 'rain' first began. While swift, the terrain was difficult to navigate at speed, and so while he made a quick beeline for his campsite, it just wasn't fast enough. The 'rain' became a deluge, and just as his campsite came into sight-!]

Ack!

[A sudden flash flood swept him right off his feet! Though the water only really came up his waist, the sheer force was enough to knock him down and carry him away! He tried not to flail too madly, knowing it'd do nothing but exhaust him and potentially injure him, but not even he could completely overrule his survival instinct when the threat of drowning loomed.

It didn't help that there sure were a lot of pebbles in his way... big, towering pebbles that he couldn't quite dodge as the stream carried him away, leaving him more than a little disorientated when he bounced off of them. Someone better help him soon...!]

[erbe]

ANFANG!

[A familiar voice calls about above the roar of the 'river'. Rin leaps from her spot along the cherry tomato vines down into the raging waters. The combination of a simple gravity spell and some wind magic at her feet allow for some improv water skis. Tohsaka hurries her way to Byleth not too unlike skating on ice.

Once her short arms are within reach of him she attempts to make a grab, but misses.]

Take my hand!

[fishfearme]

[Byleth only heard the voice - distinctly familiar, Rin? - and instinctively reached out for it. The current was strengthening, and the water deepening, as the soil began to slope downwards towards a 'valley', where the water was beginning to pool and channel through.

If he got caught up in there, death by drowning was almost a given.

But luck was on his side! His first grab missed, much like Rin's had, but his second, fuelled by sheer self-preservation instinct, succeeded in tightly gripping onto her wrist.]