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

🪓 for byleth, hayame, and jyn

[kinaesthesia]

[As much as Gavial figured she was in her element in a place like this on day one, it turns out that things work a little differently when everyone’s shrunk to a minuscule size. The scale is all wrong—plants stretching endlessly into the sky and nearly every variety of critter or crawlie a much more monstrous size.

So, different, but fun.

It does mean that hunting down these items the effigy wanted is more of an ordeal than she expected. Especially when some people are all too eager to turn this whole thing into a back-stabbing contest. But it’s lit a fire under her with regards to how hard she picked up the search now, hoping to make up another score in a contest that for all intents and purposes feels like a game to her.

She’d wandered into this part of the garden after tracking signs of movement, clambering up a thick, fallen branch jutting out of a gentle slope of soil to allow herself a better vantage point of the surrounding area. It makes for an impressive height at this size, even more precarious to traverse with the thick bed of moss coating its surface. Yet before she can really take the time to look around, a glimmer catches her eye from farther out in this sea of moss. With her saw-toothed battle axe casually hefted over one shoulder, she makes her way over to investigate.

A shiny, golden acorn peeks out from the thick bed of green. Grinning, she nudges it with a foot to free it from the little trench it had sunken into, letting it roll more easily and plainly in sight along the top layer of the springy green moss. But the trajectory of it draws her eyes to another source of movement, just down the slope of the mossy branch; it seems the person she’d been trying to track has found her first. A somewhat familiar face, and one she seems to recall belonged to Meridian.

Still grinning, she calls out,]

Well, I guess it’s my lucky day.

[fishfearme]

[After spending some time establishing a rather solid and comfortable base of operations, Byleth had finally decided to strike out and search for the Effigy's items in earnest. Traversing the terrain had been interesting, requiring plenty of clambering and skirting of obstacles he would never have thought twice about before, but Byleth's stamina was almost inexhaustible once he put his mind to something, so he had walked and climbed and hunted without pause.

Until he came across a mossy branch jutting from the soil. What would've been slippery to a normal-sized human resulted in a surface with plenty of grip, his small hands easily grasping the tiny moss buds and using them to haul himself up the curved edge of the branch. His plan was to reach a good vantage point, to get high enough to maybe survey his immediate area and try to triangulate a good location to start a more dedicated search. He'd only just climbed to the top, looking around to get his bearings when-

A voice, somewhat familiar to him. He looked up, where the branch continued to slope upwards, to see... her. Oh, ah, Gavial? If he recalled correctly. The one from the Tree and Starlight Park. A reasonable Zenith who he hoped he wouldn't come into conflict with. However...]

That remains to be seen.

[...a golden acorn was sat between them, glinting with a tempting light. He knew instinctively it was one of the items he'd been seeking, and no doubt Gavial knew it too. Slowly, he angled his body more towards her, noting that he was in the more disadvantaged position. Downhill, further away from the acorn, and entirely ignorant of Gavial's strength and abilities...]

I'd rather not fight, but Meridian needs that acorn.

[kinaesthesia]

[Gavial is still looking pleased as punch despite the tense situation the two Shard-bearers find themselves faced with. Her golden gaze holds steady on Byleth as he shifts his position slightly, though she remains in one place herself, posture casual as can be despite the imposing weapon resting against her shoulder.]

Well, what d’you know. Zenith needs this thing too.

[She lifts one foot and lightly rests it atop the golden acorn, using it to roll the thing back and forth a few times.]

And I do want to fight. It’s fun.

[She straightens up a bit then, shifting her handle on the axe so that it’s held length-wise in front of her, both hands now gripping the metallic haft. She tilts her head to the side just slightly, smiling.]

So I’d say I am pretty lucky. How’s that saying go? “Two fowlbeasts with one stone”?

[fishfearme]

Two birds, but I get the gist.

[So, no way to settle this peacefully. Pity.

Unlike Gavial, he had no weapon on him except his hunting knife, which would... not be useless, exactly, but would certainly push him to prioritise precision and evasion. There'd be no way he could deflect that battle axe with his tiny blade, but he always did prefer to evade over guards and parries, so he wouldn't have to make too much of an adjustment to his fighting style. Besides, there was always his magic...]

Well, if it's a fight you want, then I'll oblige you.

[He took a step forwards, dropping his hand to the hilt of the knife hanging from his armoured corset.]

The winner claims the prize and the loser gracefully withdraws. Anything goes, but we avoid outright killing each other unless it occurs from a genuine accident. Do you agree to those terms?

[kinaesthesia]

[There’s a very pleased hum in response when he acquiesces to a fight over that shiny little thing. Most of the time when people would rather avoid a fight, they put up much more of a fuss about trying to get her to back down; the fact that he agrees to it, begrudging or not, wins him a lot of points in her book.

And those terms of his are real smart, too. Sure, this whole thing is supposed to be a competition between the factions or whatever, but it doesn’t mean they can’t have fun with the whole thing. And that includes being a good sport about a clash like this, regardless of outcome.]

Deal! Sounds good to me, so let’s have a good time, yeah?

[A genuine and eager smile lights up her face. She has no idea what Byleth could be capable of, but there’s only one way to find out, right? So without further ado, she takes off in a sudden sprint to close the distance between them, axe raised but not quite swinging to feel out his reaction.]

[fishfearme]

[Byleth grew up amongst mercenaries, so knew when it was pointless to negotiate a peaceful conclusion. Gavial's eagerness, her enthusiasm, for a fight had been nigh-impossible to miss, so what was the point in wasting energy trying to dissuade her? Better to simply give-in and ensure the fight was non-lethal.

Besides, he could admit he was a little curious to know her capabilities too. Gavial hefted that axe with ease - and moved far quicker than he expected too, with how swiftly she closed the distance between them. In that split-second where her charge carried her forwards, Byleth considered his immediate surroundings: the width of the branch, how slick the moss was, the steep angle, how far the acorn was, could he actually manoeuvre himself to-

The split-second was over. Gavial was upon him, so Byleth evaded to her left in his characteristic spinning dodge, drawing his knife in the same movement. He held the blade parallel to his forearm, but didn't make any threatening gestures with it, didn't press the attack - he retreated instead, hastily trying to regain distance between him and Gavial, the knife held up defensively.

Much like Gavial was feeling out his reaction, he was feeling out hers. He wanted to know - would she press the attack? Was she an aggressive fighter? Cautious? How wide were her swings? Or did she keep the axe relatively controlled? Byleth always preferred to wait out his opponents, baiting out their move-sets before retaliating... and it was why he had so much trouble with Shez, whose aggression was augmented by his impulsiveness and blinding speed. The trick to throwing Byleth off-kilter was to attack! attack! attack!]

[kinaesthesia]

[No one’s ever accused Gavial of going easy on her opponents. Whether in a real fight or a friendly spar, she’s always been of the mind that it’s best to go all-out. It’s more fun that way, more respectful—at least in her mind—and it keeps the whole thing moving smoothly.

And, maybe, she’s a little bad at holding back.

So there’s a very conscious effort on her part to keep her hands very firmly in position on the haft of her axe and away from the trigger that would set the spiny teeth along its edge to start spinning. Weapon-wise, the fight looks unbalanced at the outset with knife against battle-axe, and she’s more interested in seeing how well he might handle the disparity. And if he’s got more tricks up his sleeves? She wants to see them. The real question is, what would it take to make that happen?

With his defensive posturing and the quickness with which he sought to regain the distance between them, she’s getting the feeling he might be the more cautious and methodical type. Provoking a retaliation from him might take some prodding, which Gavial is all too eager to provide. She keeps her momentum going, her tail swinging behind her to aid with her balance as she pivots to follow his movement with zero hesitation. Her weapon is hefted once more, this time fully following through with a wide and heavy swing at a downward angle.]

[fishfearme]

[Fast!

Byleth hadn't expected her to pivot so quickly with such a heavy weapon, but he didn't let it surprise him into a hit! He quickly dodged again, feeling and hearing the whistle of air from the weapon's close swipe, but this time he didn't bother trying to turtle up and put more distance between them.

Not only was she packing serious firepower, she had the speed to practically triple her threat factor. This wasn't a fortress knight Byleth could dance around, baiting into predictable movements. He had to be more aggressive, then... against an opponent whose movements and tactics were an unknown. Not his favourite situation to be in, but he'll deal with it.

So, as Gavial's axe swung down and Byleth dodged (again, to her left), he swept his free hand out where he'd been keeping a low-charged Fire spell at the ready. It was more heat and sparks than actual flame, not really wanting to seriously burn her or have her clothes catch fire, but he used the sunburst of embers as a cover to try and dart in and do an experimental jab towards her torso with his knife.]

[kinaesthesia]

[If pressed, Gavial might just say that going toe-to-toe with new opponents might just be her favorite kind of fight. Not that it stops her from getting excited for repeat matches against someone, but there’s nothing quite like the unique thrill of trying to puzzle out the opposition’s style, speed, and arsenal. Opponents back home on Terra could have any number of tricks up their sleeves, but by the very nature of how things worked here in Kenos, a tussle with someone out here had the potential to go beyond her imagination. And that is why there is a gleeful grin on her face here—circumstances are finally providing her with a real, serious fight where someone might be willing to pull out all the stops.

Byleth still has the speed on his side to dodge her strike, and she’s watching his movements with a keen eye as she tries to right her stance after her axe crashes down on nothing but air. But rather than pull back again like she expected, instead there is a spark of flame blossoming between them. Well, well, Mr. Stoic here knows some Arts! She backsteps from the sudden heat of it.]

Ohhh, flashy!

[A quick quip riding a delighted laugh that gets cut off as he lunges for her with his knife. Instinct has her jerking her weapon upwards to catch it—but his weapon is lighter and his strike quick. There’s a metallic clang as it glances off the metal haft of her axe, but the motion is awkward and the blade manages to graze an arm as she pulls away from it. First blood goes to Byleth. How fun!

He’s not the only one who can mislead with one move and follow up with another, though. Gavial’s axe is hefted once more in what would be another similar downward swing from the same side, but the motion doesn’t revert towards him—instead, she almost seems to turn away and her long crocodilian tail lashes out from her left to strike at him.]

[fishfearme]

[Ah.

Yes.

The tail.

In his defence, Byleth isn't used to fighting humanoid creatures with tails. Normally they were wyverns, or demonic beasts, which required a whole different approach to fighting them with just a knife. As it was, he only noticed the tail swinging for him a split-second too late, and could only mitigate it by twisting his body like a cat in mid-fall so that it clipped his arm and shoulder, as opposed to catching him hard around the waist.

It still was enough to throw him off balance, and instead of clumsily staggering in an effort to stay upright, leaving himself open, he let the momentum of the blow and gravity pull him downwards. He hit the ground in a combat roll - away from Gavial - and leapt back onto his feet with his knife at the ready and a blindly thrown fire spell cast in Gavial's general direction, if only to buy himself some precious seconds to orientate himself.]

[kinaesthesia]

[Gavial will never tire of pulling out that trick. Such a second-nature move for her is something that catches most people (especially around here) off guard. Usually it’s just funny when it’s a more amiable fight, but in instances like this its a very handy surprise.

Still, there’s a quickness to her opponent that nearly renders the tail strike ineffective, but there’s the satisfying feeling of impact as it catches him at the last moment and steals away his balance. She can tell he’s a seasoned fighter though; she had been banking on going for another swing while he tried to regain his footing, but he makes the smarter move of following the momentum in order to regain some of that precious distance. How lucky to have found someone who knows their stuff!

Another flash of fire follows as she begins to give chase, and though its aim is a lot more haphazard than the first, she opts to pull back as the sting of the heat brushes against her. She’s shrugged off fire Arts before, but she’s in no rush to push the dubious advantage she had for the moment. Instead she… eases off, just for the briefest of moments. Takes a glance down at the trickle of blood running along her arm even as Byleth gets a steady foothold once again in their mossy battlefield.

And then she’s off like a shot in his direction again, heavy axe held one-handed with the blade held close to the ground. There’s no heed paid to the way her hurried steps cause the glittering acorn they’re fighting over to go skidding farther down the mossy branch—her eyes are focused only on Byleth as she runs in, posed with the intent to… tackle?]

[fishfearme]

[Byleth, too, didn't notice the acorn rolling away. His focus was squarely on Gavial's unrelenting charge, and his next movement - a prepped parry stance, knife held at the ready - faltered when he registered that it seemed less like she was preparing to charge in and swing, but charge in and-?]

Oof!

[Critical hit! At the very last moment he'd lowered his blade and attempted a sideways dodge, not wanting to risk lashing out with steel if she was moving in for a grapple - but had made the decision a mite too slowly. Gavial got him!]

[kinaesthesia]

[Ah, there it is, the collision of body against body. She had her eyes on that knife of his as she closed the distance between them, but there was zero hesitation and seemingly zero accounting for it as she moved in. Just a head-on charge to try to catch him as quickly as possible.

His grunt at the impact is contrasted by her gleeful cackle as she slams into him, her free hand moving to slip around his waist to try to hold him close. The axe, being an impediment in such close quarters, gets dropped with zero fanfare so that she can begin maneuvering into a more proper take-down to try to take them to a ground. It clatters with a dull thud into the moss as she makes a sweep with one leg to bring their momentum downward.

Her movements are confident and experienced, but incredibly brazen. There’s little regard for whatever sort of retaliatory strike Byleth might attempt with that knife still at hand, but controlling the flow of the fight is more important to her in the moment.]

[fishfearme]

[The brazenness worked in her favour, Byleth too bewildered at her seeming lack of self-preservation to react in time to the leg sweep. He wasn't able to evade it, but feeling his weight pitch sharply downwards from the leg sweep ignited his combat instincts in a way that overrode his sense of fair play and restraint - sheer animalistic survival instinct went into overdrive.

They both hit the ground, and in the confusion Byleth lost hold of the knife, but he didn't let that give him pause. He had faltered and held back enough. Gavial wanted a tussle, then he'll give her one! Snarling with the same guttural depth as some sort of predatory beast, Byleth immediately began grappling with her before she clawed an even bigger advantage over him, clearly trying to roll them over so that he could pin her down with him on top.

He fought like a wildcat! Kicking, clawing and, yes, attempted biting... someone needed to break this up soon before it got even more heated...]

[warmare]

[Hayame doesn't know anything about a deal concerning how this fight should be conducted. She certainly doesn't believe in deals with enemies in the first place. But what she does know... is that when she follows the Commune with Nature spell her harmonization with Meridian has granted her, ignored until only recently...

Is that she finds Byleth grappling with that lizard-tailed Zenite woman... and Byleth is her ally.

They will hear the thundering of hooves before anything else. And if Gavial is not of mind to lift her head... she will miss Hayame approaching at a full gallop, her six foot long bow brought to bear in front of her, an arrow notched...

One second from firing.]

[kinaesthesia]

[Oh, now this is unexpected. Gavial figured Byleth knew his way around a fight from the way he carried himself, and the few traded blows early in this amiable fight seemed to prove it. But this almost animalistic struggle as they hit the ground and became a tangle of limbs? It’s entirely at odds with his typically stoic demeanor.

Now things are really getting fun.

She meets his biting and scratching in kind as he manages to roll them into a position more favorable to him. She laughs, but it’s breathy and short-lived as she focuses on fending off her seemingly feral opponent, not willing to let him fully pin her so easily. Blood and bruises be damned, the fight she puts up is as unguarded as the initial rush that put them into this position. Taking hits means nothing to her as long as it allows her to get some in in kind. She’d regret it later, but this is now.

In her efforts to try to steal back the upper hand from him, she employs the use of her tail once more. With their proximity, it’s an easy enough task for it to slam into him, and she hopes it can provide enough of a distraction to allow her to try to push back against him. But her focus is solely on the task at hand…

Leaving herself wide open for, say, the threat of an incoming arrow from another Meridian bounding into the fight. One that finds its mark in her shoulder as she bucks up against Byleth, a much more sharp blossom of pain.]

[fishfearme]

[So focused was Byleth on winning the battle - and scenting victory on the horizon - he hadn't noticed Hayame's approach or the telltale wind-up of Gavial's tail. Once more he forgot it existed, and paid for it by feeling it slam into his side, driving the air out of his lungs and having him waver, off-balance. If she pressed the attack-

-but the frenetic air was cut rudely short by the whistle of an arrow and the meaty 'thud' of it striking home. Byleth felt Gavial convulse in pain underneath him, and he hurriedly scrambled off her, breathing hard and aching in random places that were definitely going to bruise later, as he finally noticed:]

Hayame?!

[warmare]

[It's Hayame. Or rather, it's Hayame demonstrating exactly why jinba were so valued by warlords that they were hunted down, enslaved, and sold to the highest bidder. No matter how human-looking some parts of her were... it is a half ton of muscle and sinew and sharpness and power bearing down on them across the field. Her hooves churn up dirt, her dark mane and tail whipping out behind her, and though she might have time to fire off another arrow... She covers ground so quickly that she's already close enough to-]

Move, Byleth!

[If Gavial doesn't move quick enough... she might get trampled. That, or hooked by the large bow Hayame is prepared to wield like a staff to crack bones or choke.]

[kinaesthesia]

[Gavial’s been in battles way more chaotic than this before. A lot of them. From the simple large-scale brawls of her homeland, to the the more lethal battlefields staged across Terra as a whole… and the number one thing she’s learned from all of them is how to be quick to react to changing tides.

She’d let her focus stay narrowed as she tussled with Byleth, but the sting of the arrow in her shoulder knocked a very sudden clarity into her. Her opponent scrambles away, shouting a name—and she fully registers now the thundering of hooves that had almost seemed background noise a moment ago. She half-rolls to get her feet properly on the ground again and pushes off to move, tail whipping behind her to keep herself from stumbling.

She can feel the rush of air as the familiar angry kuranta woman barrels past, a very narrow miss. Gavial doesn’t turn to track her right away, instead letting her momentum carry her forward to where she’d dropped her axe nearby. She makes a one-handed grab for its haft with her uninjured arm before she straightens up, finally turning to assess the change in stakes.]

Oh, we’re two on one now, huh?

[Breathy and excited, it doesn’t entirely sound like she minds the disadvantage.]