Training at Sunrise

[buildyourworld]

Who: Tieria and YOU
When: May 9th, a day AFTER Intro Log
Where: Caissa, Coastal District
What: Tieria organized a mass training session, hideous ensues?
Rating: Violence, language, more violence




If you made your way to the location, you're already one step closer upon completing your training because this part of the beach is the furthest away from any settlement or port and also the hardest to find. You probably found it by following other heroes' trail, or you're those who stumbles around until you found it or you're actually one of those who went scouting before the actual day.

Either way, congratulation for making it this far ( puns completely intended ). Surrounding the rocky beach is an even rockier cliff. Be careful not to stumble or you will find yourself in need of healing. Thankfully, there are Kings ready to make a guinea pig out of your healing needs around. Your training will be held on the round rock-carved deck overlooking the beautiful sea or on the less rocky stretch of the beach, depending on your Trainer's choice. If you're lucky, your Trainer might even have you hike up that rocky cliff. You may even treat yourself to Caissa's fantastic sunset if you made it up there in time!

In any case, once you've arrived at sunrise ( or rather when the sun has risen sufficiently over the horizon because you're that bad with direction or has no sense of time ) and is done catching your breath, you will come to a notice pinned on the tall fences that tells you to tie a ribbon ( in the buckets, also tied to the fence ) corresponding to the training you wish to partake in on your arm.

Stamina ( GREEN ) ✽ Endurance ( ORANGE ) ✽ Weapons ( BLUE ) ✽ Magic ( PURPLE )

The notice will also instructs those who volunteers to be Trainers to tie a different set of ribbons, with black stripe over the four corresponding colors, on their arm to help differentiate them and the course(s) they're instructing. Of course, if you turn out to be a terrible Trainer, Tieria will rip that ribbon off you and very possibly shoves you into the sea.

There are no training weapon available because you're supposed to bring your own magic weapon.
If you forgot, you can either run back for it or pick a different course.

There's also a clause in very bold red letters that forbid killing. Break it and you will be broken in return.

Are you done tying those ribbons? Then what are you waiting? Get moving!





(( OOC: Please indicate in your top level if your character is a Trainer (which course are they instructing?) or Trainee.
eg.: Harry Potter | TRAINER - MAGIC
eg.: Severus Potter | TRAINEE - EVERYTHING PLEASE

Feel free to mingle around! Make friends, frenemies and even better, rivals! ))

Comments

A

[digophelia]

[ She was told that the comb in her hands was a weapon meant to enhance whatever spells and magic she had. At first, Alice can't believe she's being beckoned over by him, her fast walk dropping to a near a crawl. After her "meltdown" at Capablanca, Alice is reluctant to display whatever strength and stamina around him. Simply put, she's afraid of losing control around him again. By this time, Alice stops and, as usual, keeps a very unusual distance from him.

Not because of what he told her or the inhuman nature of Sion.

She's afraid of being touched, an irrational fear of hers, being picked up and carried away after losing control once more. She couldn't shake the feeling - the unusually foreboding feeling of bad luck - in her hands that was the hair comb. She kept it in her hands, loving her hair too much to pull it back with the comb. ]

Are you certain of that? I think you know how strong I am.

[sunderings]

But do you know it for yourself, how very strong you are?

[ —he echoes, his eyes falling upon the pearl-encrusted comb in Alice's hands. There is an odd aura about her, though this he does not say, and while it is troubling in some facets (though it is not so stark a change, there is something which looms over her head, for now kept at bay), it could yet prove to be beneficial in others. Alice, who had once known nothing of magic or of mana, now boasts a Queen's badge upon her uniform, and Sion is certain of it: she will be a fearsome spellcaster one day. ]

Willful, you've risen gracefully in the wake of trial, and bold, you have faced the likes of warfare which you have never before seen. What's more... [ Dispelling the barrier which he'd cast, he rises from his perch, though he makes no move to walk forward, wholly aware of her unease. ] ...you were gentle, when I fell ill, and I have yet to properly thank you for it.

[ For listening to him, as he revealed to her his will to protect, and the Demon which he'd embraced to do it. ]

Allow me to aid you in your practice of magic. This much I owe to you, Alice.

[digophelia]

I've had nothing but dumb luck in that regard, for getting this far in this world.

[ Of course, thinking herself as strong would be giving herself praise and she couldn't have that. After fiddling with the comb a bit longer, Alice draws a small sigh as she slides it through the side of her hair. The long locks of dark hair were the only thing Alice took pride in and it was often she let it fall over her face and shoulders. The idea of pulling it up and back was something that she couldn't bare, not after how many times it had been shaved in the asylum. ]

You are as much of a human as anyone else; I see no need to treat you differently, not unless you dare touch me again or cast spells on me.

[ She meant it, too. Gold blood, demons, and vows -- no, Alice wouldn't bat an eye at him for it. She came a long way from shouting at him for scooping her up and bursting down his door. Now she was doing something she rarely did and that was seek help, from another.

In a way, Sion has proved himself slightly trustworthy for assistance with that confession. ]

You don't owe me a thing; I want the safety and security of innocent civilians, nothing else. So then, Sion, do as you will.

[ The dark cloud over her and the comb, she buried it and dismissed it as another fanciful feeling of her mind. Why not? Why would she take those feeling seriously as long as the Queen of Hearts was whispering in her ear over it? ]

[sunderings]

[ As much of a human, she says, and you don't owe me a thing, she continues on, and she cannot know how impossibly wrong she is, or how very similar they are: the pair they make, the Hero King and the Lady who'd rescued him, refusing to believe in the best of themselves. ]

You must know that our interests coincide—

[ He walks forward, now, with a graceful stride unhindered by the sand, cutting a silhouette rather unlike the one he'd held when last they met. The face he presents now is not ailing, it is not so distraught, but it is still gentle, asking of her that she trust in him, have faith only for this small while. She must learn the difference between the magic of this realm and the instability which she'd confessed to him, for if she is not able to differentiate between the two he fears...

That he will not be able to protect her from it, her own power. For there are times when denying one's own strength is a danger as much as it modesty. ]

—and that your skill is no blind measure of luck, but rather a testament to everything you've weathered until now.

[ Both the good and bad. The ugly and the not-so. ]

What I will do is ask if you've not felt anything strange, or sensed anything which is amiss in the wake of your promotion. [ Trust in your instincts, Alice. ] The comb in your hair is lovely, but it is undoubtedly a weapon, just as my necklace is. Have you made the attempt of channeling your mana through it?

[digophelia]

[ Alice doesn't say that she's grateful that they share the same plight as she watches him approach. She falls silent, tight-lipped as she watches him approach, her arms crossing over her chest, as if she wants to start closing herself off again. She's maintained the delicate balance between reality and her visions this long, despite her increased nightmares, waking up in tears and screaming.

Screaming. Even now Alice can hear cries of pain and pleas for help all the way in the corners of her mind from children. All of that almost overlaps with the Queen of Hearts voice chiding her for holding herself back. Alice almost wavers there from the internal chaos and manages to pull herself out from a glassy stare with her irritation. Her anger with Sion, yet again, she keeps in tow.

Why does he care so much? No, he doesn't care, he has no idea what has happened! In contrast to his gentle look, Alice's face becomes hardened. ]

Strange and amiss? [ She's sure something felt different, no- it only feels different because maintaining herself has gotten worse.

Nothing is wrong, it doesn't hurt- then why? Why can't I stop thinking about it? Why won't it go away? I'm fine. I'm fine!

Over and over, she would scream it in her head, burying the desire to burst into tears, crawl up in a ball and nearly weep to him that she almost suffered the same fate in London that she did in Capablanca, how close she came to being a doll again. With all of that looming in the back of her mind, how can she say she trusts her instincts, if anything- ]

How can I? [ She feels like she's going to break. ] I'm a mad woman, when doesn't something feel strange and amiss. It only feels like I'm slipping, again.

[sunderings]

Slipping? No, you are only standing as best as you are able upon your own two feet.

[ Though undeniably, she is struggling, it is all too evident in her face; in the slow cross of her arms over her chest as he nears, as though he were some threat to distance herself from. And distance herself she does, for she is gone from him in the very next instant, pulled into the tumult of some far-off place, a desolate abyss which only she might be able to see. When first they met (and what a rocky start that had been, months ago now when he'd thought her manner of realm-walking to be akin to his own and had made a grievous mistake because of it), he'd asked her a question, and he finds himself wondering it again as she comes back to herself, calling herself a mad woman so freely... ]

And now you must delineate for yourself the path you are to walk, one which treads somewhere between madness and magic, striking a balance.

[ How he could help her, if only she let him. Though their circumstance is not precisely the same, and will never be, there are similarities enough for him to make a second confession: ]

All my life, I have walked a similar line. If I should ever stop fighting it, the curse I carry, I will come to abandon all reasoning. I will become a monster true, and devour everything in my path.

[ He reaches out to her, close enough now that if she wished and if she wanted, she could take his hand. No, he would not touch her, and he would not cast magic upon her, but these promises, these vows, would never stop Sion from offering himself to her. Regardless of how he might be cast aside, she needs, more than anything, to know it—that someone is there for her, to catch her if she falls. ]

But I have not, and will never stop fighting. [ Compassionate, as ever and as always, he stands, unmoving, searching out her eyes before he speaks again: ] And you will not stop fighting either, Alice. Even if you should well and truly slip, I will reach you; I will pull you back.

[ In this, he is resolute, his words falling upon the ears with only the utmost conviction; a King's decree. ]

[digophelia]

[ To have someone to catch her if she falls.

She's been offered that before and Alice's reaction to Sion extending his hand is to be expected. Her shoulders shrug and shudder, as if she is shrugging off the hands of an invisible force. In a way, she is, she can feel her and her voice drowns in her ears.

Why do allow this, Alice?

Alice insists that she won't and her reaction is a little unnecessary; she slaps his hand away, taking a step back, crossing her arms. Alice, again, furious that he would even bother in the first place. No, he has not placed a hand on her, but the mere idea- ]

You do not want to be down that path, Sion.

[ Firm, without any formalities, that is how anyone knows Alice is angry. ]

Of course I won't stop fighting. [ I will undo that damage and restore their minds. ] But I hardly need anyone to pull me back.

[ It's always been her that's pulled herself back out of that darkness, alone. How could anyone ever consider the notion of helping her? Already, anger and grief were blooming in her, again, as Alice stood their rigid and unwavering like a stone statue.

Devour, he says! Will you listen to this? She would drown out those voices as they grew louder, Alice's vision of reality and imaginary, starting to blur. Of course, as soon as mana passed through her body, like burning, white hot anger, she dismissed it as quick as possible as her own imagination. Even as darkness would bloom around her, Alice thought of it as her own mind playing tricks. It wasn't unusual she would stand before anyone and see Wonderland seeping in as she looked at them; why would it be different this time?

Though, as Alice stood there, completely composed despite her inner chaos, she would not waver or begin to humor the manifestation of her illusion working into reality. Truly, her psychosis was just that much of a struggle, and once again, Sion would see the end result of it. Alice would continue, and spoke to him as if nothing was surrounding her.

It was the only logical approach. ]

Continue and I will listen, but I will not touch your hand. Don't offer it to me again, lest I truly lose my temper.

[sunderings]

[ A warning, in more ways than one, the hand (fine-boned, nimble, strong) which collides with his own, a jolt passing through the whole of him in the instant they touch. She is a whirlwind—beautiful, chaotic, and bright—their second's worth of mana exchange taking from him his breath even as her words seize his heart. He'd known, of course, that his offering would inspire her anger (and how he hurts on her behalf, for what must she have weathered, for the simple idea of care and of aid to spurn her so?), but what he hadn't at all foreseen had been a will to protect him, buried somewhere within that ire.

He does not want to be down that path? But he has walked it all this time and walks it still, unable to move anywhere save for forward. Flexing his fingers (curling, then stretching, the gesture as lovely as any of the motions he makes), he considers it, what he's felt, making no move to advance where she's fallen back a pace. ]

It is not that you need for anyone, Alice, but rather— [ Though he is only ever gentle with her, and will only ever continue to be, there is something unshakable in his voice, his will to protect her resolute: ] —the opposite, really. You are so strong that you do not acknowledge when you need for rest, to care for yourself. For so very long, you have carried the weight of the world upon your shoulders that you do not know that...

[ He lowers his eyes, smiling, acutely aware of actualization of her mana into magic, the murky dark which effloresces from beneath her feet, taking shape about her. ]

You needn't do it alone. [ Never, not here, not where there were so many who cared for her, would help her to tame her own demons, those nightmares borne from her imagination; her mind. ] Do you not see it, Alice?

[ For he does.

And, at first, he will confess to thinking the vision is his own, that the blooms, coils, and tendrils of red which swell up from the dark are indicative of the Other Realm, the landscape which the monster inside of him once walked, black-armored and trudging through the blood, gore, and mire that was the back of an old God, dead and decomposing; the true world which he would one day return to.

But not now, not yet, this is... ]

The realm where you once turned your eyes... [ No longer is he looking at her, but with her, following her line of sight. ] ...is before us now.

A corridor, red and pulsing like a thing alive, and along the way, wire-paned doors, all of them sealed and closed.

[ He is distant in observation, then, somehow sad: ]

All of them bearing hearts.

[digophelia]

[ With how he seemed so nonchalant, it only solidified Alice assuming that it was an image of her mind and only her. She had grown so used to this that no one would really know this was an ongoing struggle and comfort for her. The anger and grief that blossomed in her shifted like a strange weight on her shoulders, her chest tightening as her body became stiffer and began to tremble.

How can he see it? She didn't mean to pull him in. How? The comb? ]



[ For a moment, Alice stood there frozen, startled that he could even see what she was seeing, her comfort and struggle, Queensland, the few realms of Wonderland that still remained corrupted from her madness and grief, she had passed it onto him. How? Alice didn't respond, at first, she stood there, with her hands clutched, wondering if it would be best to bolt and run, as if she had been caught doing something so very wrong. In a way, she had, because now it was all too clear to hear the ever-enraged voice of the Queen of Hearts "OFF WITH HIS HEAD!". Alice wouldn't, she couldn't. She would never. She had her under control, the queen would never climb her way out of her desolate throne room in which she was banished by both Alice and the Dollmaker.

But it was strange to have someone actually see what she saw, and her means to protect her psyche became something much more than illusion of her mind. ]


My mind!

[ It was already in ruins, she was rebuilding the pieces. It became clear as she stood there with a bit of Queensland enveloping him that... she was more hurt and upset than she lead anyone to believe. No matter how much she insisted she was fine, it wasn't the case. Alice began to panic, dropping her head into her hands and shaking her head, trying to call what she had projected back. The gore and violence, no, Alice didn't flinch at -- she would only ever grow upset at the fact someone would finally see what she saw. ]

This isn't supposed to be happening! No one can see what I see!

[ Calm. She couldn't do it, she tried, she began to outwardly scold the voice ringing through her mind that became much more audible around the pulsating walls and eyes now directed at Sion and the illusion became more aggressive towards him. Even in that moment, Alice found herself angry that he saw this; there was no need to be angry at him. ]

That's enough! He has done nothing wrong, he is not like him!

[ The tendrils, at least, halted, the putrid fleshy walls and ground that beat like a heart would stop as Alice shouted. It was far too potent for her to handle and her body began to feel gradually weaker. So this is what a mana drain was like, but- ]

That's enough, you're not supposed to be here, not here.

[ She could feel herself falling, again, her knees starting to buckle as a feeling of vertigo started to pull at her. Eventually, through Alice gritting her teeth and pulling her hair, she was able to finally stop the illusion from outright attacking him again. She nearly screams, gasping for air as she pulls her hands away and finally, after the weight of her psychosis causes Alice to fall to her knees. ]

[sunderings]

[ Her mind.

This place—this grotesque (lovely) hollow of viscera and flesh, of all-seeing eyes and sinuous tendrils which twine, ready to slip about the neck and constrict, if only given the chance—is a construct of Alice's mind. It is all of her anger and every last ounce of her grief, an illusion to him, but something to her (once upon a time, he'd said: all madness has its purpose, its root), a mechanism with which to protect herself, to defend herself where...

No one else stood to.

The magic is potent, a voice echoing with all its fury through the cavernous deep, and were he not so focused upon Alice herself, he might have become immersed in it, lost to the spell which resonated so profoundly with his other self. But Alice is falling, collapsed to the ground, panicked as she gasps for breath, and before the King realizes the action wholly for himself, he is kneeling beside her, the necklace which adorns his shoulders gently aglow as he sees it activated upon impulse.

For every faceted stone upon the link of gold, a blade of light unfurls at his back, each and every one cutting through the dark until twelve come together, forming his wingspan. And it is then that he brings his wings of light cascading down, forming a shroud about them to block all else out. For her, the glow of the magic is a gentle radiance—a small light in the dark, like the nightlight she kept at her bedside far away from here—resonant of his own calm, his head bowed as he speaks: ]

You must find it, Alice, your path. [ She's withheld it all this while, her upset and her hurt, and for so very long Sion has kept a respectable distance, attested to his vows, but for no longer. Right now, she is in need of his help. ] Focus on the draw of your breath, steady yourself, and stop the spell and its root.

[ He would reach her, he would. ]

Will it away, as I know only you are able.

[digophelia]

I can't.

[ In order to steady herself, Alice leans forward, her hands on the ground, taking steady breaths to settle it. The illusion isn't projected outward any longer, pulled back as nothing more than a dark cloud seems to hover over her, like the form of doubt that she holds over herself constantly. But, in her mind, the illusion hasn't ceased. She doesn't pull her head up, looking at her hands this time, her unusually calloused hands. Psychotic episodes are not without a feeling of vertigo, so Alice can do is wait for it to pass.

It will take much more than that. Breathing, she knows that she can't pull herself out of a spell so easily, especially when something like this is such a problem for her. For once, Alice can say that despite the pain and anger she built up, she wasn't crying before him. For once. ]

Let me stand. [ She doesn't know a life without hallucinations, it was simply unfeasible. After a moment of calming herself and the last remaining bits of the spell dissipating, Alice turns to glance at Sion through the dark strands of her hair, pulling the comb out of her hair, allowing it to fall over her face like a protective curtain.

Was it willed away? She wouldn't be able to know until Sion confirmed it so. She was drained, emotionally and physically, shifting her body forward, trying to will away the dizzy spell away, slowly pushing herself off the ground only to take another fall. ]

[sunderings]

[ Another fall, destined to end so very unlike the first. She collapses, toppling forward, but where she should have landed, the sand and gravel of the beach beneath her palms, she meets instead with the well-worn material of the King's uniform, the warmth of his chest, an arm supporting her shoulders...

And a hand, devastatingly gentle, cradling the back of her head. ]

In time, Alice.

[ In time, she will stand, and in time, her daydreams (as she had called them on that morning of too long ago, when he'd shaken her, startled her with his observation) will ebb. But for now, she needs only to rest again him, and perhaps she hasn't the energy to do much more than that. So profound a spell, so complete a magic, has no doubt exhausted her mana reserves, leaving her as she is now: propped against him, held safe and sound (close and dear) within his embrace for the third time.

She will recoil from him when she's summoned the will (of course, it is only to be expected), and she will be furious (again, she is always furious with him), but at the very least, she will be well. She will be grounded, and able to hurl her anger at him by way of a quick tongue and vehement expression, and he will only smile brightly at her for it. ]

The illusion has gone—

[ He pronounces, after drawing back his wings, the light vanishing as swiftly as it had appeared, and in its wake there is only the distant sound of their comrades, immersed yet in training. There is the clash! and clang! of weaponry, the sear of offensive magic cutting through the air, and then closer to her, there is a murmur of incantation upon Sion's lips (what I seek is sanctuary), one which the earth beneath them seems to answer to.

Called forth from world itself, mana gives life to a sprawling iridescent seal which takes its form upon the sand, its magic bringing with it a slow renewal of energy, the mending of all wounds (both the tangible and the not-so). Vertigo is banished, an imagination run amok calmed, and slowly but surely, strength is returned, leaving Sion to count down the moments until Alice should flee from him, freeing herself of his arms. ]

—I cannot pretend to know what it is I saw, but Alice...

[ Relief washes over him, tangible through mana exchange; their link formed by embrace. Relief (for her safety, that she hadn't burned herself down to ashes along with her spell), and swift at it's heels, compassion, empathy, and a pervasive sentiment that all will be well; that everything will be all right. ]

It is not so dark that you cannot escape from it. Nothing is.

[digophelia]

[ It happens rather quickly before Alice can really react. It's more than her mana being depleted, it's her body aching from mental and physical exhaustion. Alice can't promise she's slept well, if at all, the past few weeks. She pushed herself and will continue to do so. After all, it's not a state she's not unfamiliar with, it shouldn't have been a problem. She figured she could summon strength again, after so many times after falling and tripping. It wasn't that long ago her body was so weak from catatonia, so, what was another moment of her body reeling from exhaustion?

He's very good at moving in quickly, Alice doesn't have really any time to react, other than repeat the same thing that's happened before the last time he was bold enough to embrace her. He will feel her slender form flinch, Alice trying to curl up as if she expects him to hit her or pick her up again. The former a slimmer possibility than the latter, but old habits die hard. It's strange, it still puzzles her, the feeling of being held like this. She finds her eyes clamping shut, as a feeling of revulsion passes through her in a form of a shudder.

The concern over the illusion passes and Alice finds herself, yet again, willing herself to raise her hands to his chest and push him off. Too close.

She takes in a deep breath, willing herself to do something that is so uncomfortable for her and that is to place two firm hands on his chest and push him, though, not as hard as before, something to break the contact with him and regain her space. As angry as she is, Sion does not receive scolding or harsh words, just Alice pushing herself back, and smoothing out her long hair. The look she spares him says it all -- "I thought I said not to touch me."

She swallows her anger, and turns her back from him momentarily to slide back the comb in her hair, if only to pull her hair out of her eyes. ]

I won't explain to you what you saw.

[ She figures it's self-explanatory, in a way, with how the Queen of Hearts could be heard screaming and the tentacles of Queensland reaching for him. She was angry and she is still hurt. Alice turns back to him, looking at his features, wondering if it's worth mentioning.

She hates to admit that she is hurting, and what happened hurt her more than she cared to admit, so she dismisses it. ]

It doesn't matter, anyway, there are worse things to suffer from.

[ She can't do it, as much as she wants to admit how much it hurts to someone at that moment, she just can't. ]

That answers my question what the comb can do. [ Thank you? Maybe? Or was it worth thanking him that he could have easily been the target of her anger, again? The only solution was to pretend it didn't happen, at all, and do her best to brush off the attempts to reach her and embrace her as if it never happened. It was too confusing, she couldn't deal with it. ]

I won't be using it anymore today.