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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
I wasn't, before I came here.
[ He admits that with a shrug. ]
But as I've become more attuned to Meridian, they've seen fit to give me access to certain healing magic. I think it will help you...
[ He frowns as he listens to her story. ]
Don't worry about that just yet. We can worry about the object once you're in a position to keep moving. Hold on a moment. And - this might hurt a little-
[ He gently takes her leg and lifts it a little to get a better look at the wound. He does have experience with horses, so at least he's not doing something that's going to wrench her leg into a more painful position. ]
I think I may need to set it before I use this, though. It's the first time I've honestly used it on something this severe...
no subject
She cannot disparage them. Though she had shunned them for months and months, refusing to stoop to learning them under the guise of pride to cover her discomfort and fear of magic, she had recently been forced to learn an use them... and if it would see her healed from this?]
Do what you nee-
[He had given her warning, but what she was going to say is cut off when she violently bites down on her own tongue, her fingers digging in to the soil in front of her and clenching white-knuckled, a cry of pain turned into a high-pitched, stuttering whimper as he handles her broken leg to examine it. The bone shards saw against each other, blood pooling along the edges of where it has cut through the skin, and despite her intent to allow his examination, her body tries to spasm and jerk the leg back closer to her belly to protect it, her hoof kicking against his thighs where he kneels beside her.
Set it first? Just cast the spell? She didn't know how this worked, she would defer to his decision... and not just because she cannot get a word out past her locked jaw. Her body knew pain, pain... she was supposed to be able to handle, but this-]
no subject
One moment.
[ And then he carefully sets the bone back in place. There's blood that welters up from the wound as he maneuvers the broken limb. It takes a moment for him to be sure that he has it properly set and he holds it still, hoping she won't kick or tear away. And then he lets the magic that he's discovred since he came here flow through him and then out. It's a wave of warmth, a smell like spring grass - and the flesh knits closed over the wound, the bone reforming, and hopefully the pain itself starting to ease and be soothed away. ]
no subject
But then he starts to set her leg.
His warning had given her time to grope about for something to bite, but they had arrived in this place with nothing on their person but their clothing and a single weapon, and if she put her naginata haft between her teeth she would crack them with the force of her bite. There is nothing... and then she is screaming, her fingers digging back into the earth in an attempt to control her bodily reactions and let him move her broken limb. To do what he intends he has to extend the leg to try and coax the broken shards of bone back beneath her skin and torn muscles, he must bend it back closer to her body to align the femur back into vague place, and Hayame-
She won't throw up. She won't. Only because she has nothing in her first stomach anymore, but she won't. Her skin is white as a sheet, her upper spine dips and curves in harsh, shuddering waves as she bears the pain of the bone setting while crying out, but once he has the bones in approximate position again... her upper half slumps into a sweaty heap between her twitching forelegs, her vision swimming on the edges. The pain suddenly begins to dull along with the creeping, invasive feeling of someone else's magic entering her body...
But she still cannot muster words, panting heavy and uneven into the dirt.]
no subject
As if it had never been broken in the first place.
The magic swirls and pushes itself out of him and fills her as it does its work. In a few minutes the cut is closed, without even a scar to mark it, the blood staining her coat the only evidence that it was ever there in the first place. Her leg is good as new. But it feels as if it took something out of him. There's a cool sweat on his brow and he takes his own long, shuddering breath as he lowers his hand and turns to try and touch her on the shoulder again - gentle, as if not to startle her. ]
I think it's done.
[ There's concern in his voice. Worry. ]
I'm sorry. Does it still hurt...?
no subject
But the pain eases. The bone regrows, the muscles reknit, the rent flesh closes... and Hayame is left in a heap, but whole.
Whole enough to hit him, this time, when she weakly tries to slap his hand off her shoulder.]
Do not touch me so familiarly- !
[She is grateful for what he did, and she will thank him for it later, yet. Not now, when she was so weak, so vulnerable, disgraced by her injury and the loss of the Bell. Maybe not in general. But she needs..]
Give me... give me a moment...
[She has to rally. They have to... they have to pursue Amos, or find a different Object, but first... Hayame has to remember how to breathe evenly, her body adjusting to the wild swing from shock to stable.]
no subject
Well.
Hayame has her pride. He knows that. ]
I did not mean to be familiar. Forgive me.
[ Although how familiar really was that? He hovers just within arm's reach instead, his gaze working over her, looking for other wounds. ]
I'm afraid I don't have any water on me, but... we should probably find some. It might do you some good to have a drink. What happened? How did you...?
no subject
His inspection will reveal other injuries. Scrapes and small cuts from the rocky ground she'd been thrown into. Bruises swelling beneath her dun cut from the impact with the side of the cup along her flanks and rumps. A bit of a concussion, perhaps, rattling around in her brain. But none of them were nearly as devastating as the broken leg and the sort of end that spelled for a jinba.
... Water, though.]
My... my supplies. There is water.
[It's nearer to him than her, a bag that had come loose from her belt in the chaos and now lay abandoned in the dirt. Now that her sense had returned more sharply,]
I was... fighting with Amos over the Bell when... someone [someone normal sized] must have kicked the cup it was in... we went flying... but he has those... those powers over the heaviness of the air.
[Gravity.]
He was less injured than I... He took it for Zenith...
no subject
Here.
[ He takes a breath. ]
That can't be helped. We'll simply have to find a way to retrieve it... or focus on another object, if we can. There's more than one way to win this fight.
[ Because this is a fight. Or at least a competition. ]
I don't think we know where Zenith has made camp yet, though...
no subject
... I could not even see which direction he went. And it has been... too long. I cannot track him.
[If he were closer... They would have to find Zenith's camp later. All they can do now...]
Another Object. If it is another Object, I can find it.
[It is ridiculous to admit, it sounds insane even as she says it... because her world is not like Fodlan. Magic doesn't just exist, and yet-]
I have... a spell.
no subject
Then let us start there. It's the next best step to take. Better to have one in hand than chase after him fruitlessly.
[ There's a pause and he turns back to her. The way she said that... ]
A spell? One that finds items, I gather? Some sort of scrying...?
[ He's so... casual about it. Perhaps because he doesn't quite understand just how alien it is to her. ]
no subject
If she didn't make up for their lacks...]
One of those... Meridian spells.
[He speaks of it casually, and she grits the words out like she doesn't want to even be saying something that sounds so ridiculous, the absolute insane idea that she should be able to do magic-]
It can locate things... survey the land without seeing it with the eye.
[Another drink, and she begins to try and haul herself up, slow and hesitating to put weight on her back leg until the last possible minute.]
no subject
[ Dimitri... can sense some of her discomfort, but he's still not quite sure if it's the pain and the shock or something else entirely. He never used magic before his arrival here, but he's used to it. So it doesn't seem strange or alien to him. There's no creeping, dangerous feeling for him to fuddle with or try to push through. ]
If... you can find another of the objects, I think it would help us a great deal.
[ He nods firmly. He doesn't reach out to steady her - even with his strength, she's more than twice his size in many respects and he's seen enough of her to know that she wouldn't want to accept it in any case. But he does stick close by, offering support by his presence. ]
But are you sure you're ready? We can take a few minutes, if you prefer.
no subject
But it holds.
She'll deal with the nightmares later. For now, she disregards the suggestion to rest to instead point to a "ridge" in the garden lanscape in the distance.]
The last time I used the spell the range ended there. From there I will cast it again.
[... Ah,]
How long can you run?
no subject
Quite a long time. I have endurance to match my strength. I doubt I can beat you for speed, but... I'll keep up in endurance.
[ He's confident of that and it comes through in his voice. If there's anything he can be proud of, it's his physical conditioning. ]
Let's not waste time. [ He takes a few steps, ready to break into a jog. ]
no subject
Hayame clips her pace to a slow canter, alternating with periods of a trot to occasionally allow Dimitri not to fall too far behind. As much as she wished to believe she did not need anyone... he had that spell. And if the image the Exalt Oracle had shown them about the Objects was always correct... there were some she did not know if she could claim by herself.
There is no talking. She has nothing to say.
Until they get to the ridge, and the scenery spreads out around them. Breeze rustles through Hayame's long mane and tail as she surveys the land... and then turns back to Dimitri.]
I am vulnerable while casting the spell. I will be counting on you during that time.
[Can she?]
no subject
He mops some sweat from his brow and then turns his gaze on her with another firm nod. ]
You may depend upon me. I will defend you from anything that tries to get through to you.
[ He takes a moment to survey their surroundings - nothing seem to be threatening and he cannot detect any enemies waiting in ambush, but you can never tell. ]
Begin when you're ready.
no subject
Communing with nature was... bizarre. Wrong, for her to be doing magic, as wrong as it felt receiving it. But she is doing it, there's no denying that, when her consciousness spreads out over the range of the spell like echolocation, pinging against items of a magical nature and bouncing back to her with the knowledge. How, she could not say...
But the knowledge appears in her mind somehow despite, and after a minute with her eye(s) shut tight, brow furrowed, tail twitching... Hayame "awakens" from that state with a sharp little breath.]
To the northeast.
[She points, down the ridge they stood atop and towards what looks like a low brick wall covered in vines, toweringly tall at their current height.]
One of the Oracle objects is there.
no subject
Then let's be off at once.
[ He takes a moment more to catch his breath and then starts down the ridge at a trot, gaze fixed on the towering wall. ]
...at the top? Or just somewhere on it?
no subject
At the top.
[Now, if they could just reach the bottom and ascertain just how high the distance was to that top...]
no subject
...that's going to be a challenge.
[ He searches his mind for a long moment. ]
There might be a way, but I'll need your assistance, I think. And it won't necessarily be easy.