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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arknights: gavial,
- baroque: koriel xii (dextera),
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- boy's abyss: gen minegishi,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): midna,
- locked tomb (the): john gaius,
- oc: liem talbott,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- vampire hunter d: d
Toxic Love: The Exalt Oracle
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 theflag 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
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.
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!
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!
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.
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?
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.
— 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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.
no subject
You're right. Hold on.
[RUNNING AWAY AGAIN!!!
Though, as Byleth ran at a pace that would be a lightning fast sprint for a human, but for him was a rather comfortable jog, he couldn't help but wonder... this child... they seemed very familiar to him. Was it the way they spoke (however few words they did speak)? The way they looked? Or smelled? Hmm, maybe it was the smell...
Who could it be, though? Byleth didn't know any children...]
By the way, who are you?
no subject
Without lifting his head to look up, he says,]
D.
[It's wild, yes. All of his long, beautiful hair is gone... and so is any sliver of imposing intimidation he may have had when he was older. Now he's left with large, rust eyes on an unobscured face, small and cute pointed ears, and an adorably stoic expression.]
no subject
Hm. Interesting. I know a 'D', though they're an adult...
[THE DOTS. THEY DO NOT CONNECT. Not that it mattered, as Byleth confidently turned down a tunnel, tapping into his unerring sense of direction to instinctively head towards the surface, and abruptly found himself face to knobbly knee with an aggressive soldier ant.
It was only due to Byleth's quick reflexes that he avoided getting decapitated by the ant's chomping mandibles. He dropped into a slide that would make a baseballer weep with envy, adjusting his grip on D to hold him close to his chest as he did so. His quick thinking let them escape certain death-by-mandible by sliding between the soldier ant's legs to under its rear. Once he was clear, he leapt onto his feet, juggling with the child in his arms to grip him in a bridal carry instead, and broke into another sprint, this time with a giant soldier ant hot on their heels.
Why was holding a child so awkward?????? They should come with straps like a backpack or something!]
no subject
I'm--
[They round another tunnel, and he's interrupted by the appearance of another angry ants. Why are ants so damn mad when things bother them? They tap into some kind of primal rage.
When Byleth shifts him, he curls both hands this time into Byleth's clothes. Precautionary. As they go through, he does reach out one arm to grab a passing giant ant leg. Casually. But he doesn't try disrupting their slide. Instead, with a sickening snap and shocking ease, they... keep going... and his hand takes one of the legs with them. Goodbye, ant leg. He drops it immediately on the other side, returning to holding onto Byleth's clothes.
Unfortunately, it's only one of six. But! It's one of the back legs.]
I am D.
no subject
Anyway, Byleth is running with a small child in his arms, and is half-distracted trying to think of a way out of this mess. The soldier ant was limping after them (sadly it was big enough that a limping gait was enough for it to keep pace), and while Byleth's impeccable sense of direction was saying 'GO HERE GO HERE', the fact was ants made their nests into mazes and said nests were full of ants.
Case in point, as D said "I am D", a bunch of worker ants spilled out from a side passage. Needless to say, Byleth didn't hear him, since said ants were squarely in their path and he was busy trying to figure out on how to extract themselves from this very uncomfortable ant sandwich they'd found themselves in without dying or losing limbs, not necessarily in that order.]
Little D, I'm going to relocate you to my shoulder. I need one of my hands.
[THMP! Thrown up from the bridal carry and over his shoulder like a sack of potato. Now Byleth had one hand free to draw Jeralt's sword from where it'd been hanging from his belt.
It also meant D got to see the soldier ant steadily catching up to them. How nice!]
no subject
He has not even a second to reiterate anything about being BIG D and there being no need for Little D before he's tossed haphazardly up over Byleth's shoulder. His expression gently flattens into something deadpan again.]
...
[But then he notices the previous soldier ant hastily catching up to their location. That didn't take long at all... Enlarged insects are atrocious, if he's honest. Well. Byleth is going to need more than a single arm probably. D starts moving his legs, pulling himself on over Byleth's shoulder by the hands. The potato sack is slipping away...!
He swings over and turns around to latch himself onto Byleth's back. Beside Byleth's ear, a little voice says:]
Behind us.
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Byleth, to his credit, quickly adjusted to the added weight to his back, shifting into a far more natural combat stance as a group of worker ants menaced him from the front, and a soldier ant marched towards his rear. His magic was miniaturised, so therefore not as useful as he'd like, and all that stood between him and a messy death was Jeralt's sword.
Wait. Jeralt's sword!]
I see it. Please remain close to my back.
[As he spoke, he angled his blade downwards, so its point was facing towards the ground, lifting his arm up slightly as if he was about to plant it into the soil. The ants crept closer.]
...and close your eyes. Everything's going to be very bright soon.
[With that, Byleth rammed his blade into the soil to ground it, just as he channelled lightning-aspect magic through the sword. The metal, specifically created to handle the copious amount of magical energies that powerful Holy Knights were expected to wield, instantly began to glow - bright and snappy, like a lightning bolt - flashing with enough light to blind a human opponent.]
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He remains latched to Byleth's back, arms over the shoulders without being in the way, knees hooked onto Byleth's sides and ankles locked in front. He's ready for whatever--fighting, running... Sword lightning?]
Okay.
[He tips his head down and hides his face in the back of Byleth's neck and shoulder, hunching his shoulders slightly as if to keep whatever light from seeping in the cracks and getting to his eyes. As resistant as he is to the sun, unlike full vampires, it still is uncomfortable on his skin. And he's not sure whether being younger will effect how he holds up.
But this light is not the sun, thankfully. The energy of the electricity makes the hair on the back of his neck stand as it pools through the sword. He isn't sure if Byleth will start moving immediately, so he remains holding on without yet lifting his head.]
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He drew his blade from the soil, and hugging along the blade was a stable aura of plasma, heat warping along the edges. It was already bleeding off, though, Kenos's weakening effect meaning it was hard for him to contain the plasma energy in a stable state without electrocuting himself or melting the metal, but he only needed a few swings with it.
Double-checking that Little D was securely on his back, he lunged forwards, taking advantage of the enemy's disorientation and blinded state to start cutting through the wall of worker ants.
Of course, they didn't just stand there and take it, even when blinded. Drawn to sounds - or maybe vibrations? - the worker ants and the soldier ant lumbered towards him, mandibles snapping at him and his charge, the clicking joining the 'vrrrm' of his blade.]
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His smaller voice says,] Be careful, [just as Byleth takes off toward the ants.
For as little as he is, D does a great job holding on. His inhuman strength probably helps him in that regard, but he flexes easily to keep Byleth from being too rigid and restrained. He remains focused ahead. Patient, too.
When one of the ants dips in for a snap, he lifts his hand and reaches by the side of Byleth's head, grappling one of the mandibles with it before it can snap at either of them. When he pushes the ant away, he does not move much on Byleth's back, yet the ant rocks over itself and tumbles into a few of the others.]
There are too many. [To fight.] Go through.
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[That had been his intention from the beginning, but Little D helped him sharpen his focus. After a brief moment of thought, Byleth does what looked like a reckless charge forwards, directing a wind spell at his feet as he did.
A whirlwind whipped up in the cramped confines of the tunnel, sending bits of soil and debris swirling madly around them. The ants weren't really harmed by it, but they were discombobulated, and Byleth's 'reckless' charge took advantage of their hesitation and confusion: he broke through the worker ant's ranks, and sprinted off.
Looked like it was gonna be a home run, little D! A left, and a right, and another left, left, right and- bam! Freedom!]
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Not wanting his head to somehow get taken off at the neck--not here especially when having that happen means reattaching won't work like normal--he ducks his face behind Byleth's shoulder as the man charges through the ants lumbering before them.
He lifts his head only when they're through, glancing behind them to make sure they aren't being followed yet by a swarm of angry ants.]
We've lost them for now.
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For now, yes. I'll continue to put some space between us.
[He paused briefly to sheathe his blade, and then resumed jogging.]
Which camp should I bring you to, Little D? Zenith or Meridian?
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Finally, though, he shifts behind Byleth's shoulders and head in the way of looking around. Then his little face appears over one of Byleth's shoulders.]
Camp...?
[Oh no.
Oh no, now Byleth is never going to figure out Little D is just Big D, that they are the same person. It is only Little D now.]
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Yes. I don't know which faction you belong to. As you're shrunken like us, I assumed you to be a Shard-bearer.
[He paused, and turned his head slightly to scrutinise D's face from the corner of his eye.]
...or are you a small humanoid who's native to the garden? You do have some resemblance to those odd creatures at that banquet...
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D has been assigned fae. Which, in all honesty, is not a bad guess. His ears are slightly pointed. He's very pale. Exceedingly beautiful. Vampires are just goth fae, clearly.]
I'm a dhampir.
[Now that the mental space has suddenly caught up with the physical space, he's not exactly sure what else to say besides that.]
I can go to your camp. [He has to go somewhere, right? At least to coordinate himself.] Are they outside of the laboratory...?
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Hm... laboratory...? My camp is within some reeds near the pond. I like some level of isolation, as it were.
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The vampire with red eyes has a laboratory. It's where me and the boy who looks like me stay. [But:] That's okay.
[He'd like to see some reeds and a pond? He's been in a laboratory for a long time...]
I want to see it.