WAR ♞ MARCH ON CENTRAL WEST PLATEAU

[boardmaster]

MARCH ON CENTRAL WEST PLATEAU
20 AUGUST (GLADIA) 2016

The quiet, seemingly unremarkable town of Friedgood doesn't seem like a prime target for a Noir attack. Ask any outsider what a Friedgood local's favorite activity might be, and they’ll likely respond "I don't know, digging?" They're not wrong: Friedgood's primary industry comes from the excavation of precious stones and minerals in the nearby mountain ranges and volcanoes. Those who don't make their living from mining most likely still enjoy digging, as the town is a hot destination for archeologists from the school of Pigeonsblood looking to uncover the ancient secrets of Gammon.

More important than shiny rocks, however, is Friedgood's strategic location within the country, specifically the checkpoint known as Platform 42 and 5/8ths. It forms a stark contrast to the sleepy town it resides in. This bustling travel hub is known as the "Gateway to Gammon", and boasts fast transport to almost anywhere in the kingdom. Security is tight here, with grim-faced Gammon soldiers working around the clock to ensure that criminal activity doesn't stand a chance. Keep your contraband at home — an infraction will cost you heavy jail time. Friedgood is also the only town with a road providing access to Grantebrycge, Gammon's illustrious University town.

By conquering Friedgood, Noir hopes for universal access to all of Gammon.

On the 20th of Gladia, amidst strong winds and persistent thunderstorms, Heroes will arrive to the Central West Plateau. Even surrounded by tall mountain ranges and ominous volcanoes, its ancient wall is truly a daunting sight. A marvel even by modern construction standards, it was built over 300 years ago to defend against hostile nomadic tribes, and remains as strong and sturdy as the day it was built. It also provides an important environmental buffer to the people of Friedgood — the wall is resistant to lava.

Basic info on the war can be found here. All OOC questions about the event may be directed to the thread below.

ONE ♙ The War of Three Armies
It’s time to head to the battle, Hero. You may be walking, riding a mount - your own, or a borrowed spider or boar - or hitching a ride from someone else. It’s a miserable trek to the plateau, but at least you’re not alone. Once you arrive, Verdoni is there to greet you, accompanied by another Gammonian, the commander of this battle.

Pinta [ so god damned salty about not being a naval tactician and assigned to ships ] Ah, yes, the vaunted Heroes I’ve heard so much about. The name is Pinta, ah... naval tactician to Gammon’s armed forces. Ask why and I’ll show you a bloody hell. Anyway, welcome to the Central West Plateau! During ancient times, the volcanoes were said to be a wall of flame that protected Gammon. But if that stopped the Othellians, I suppose I wouldn’t be here, ahaha! Now, with them dormant, we must instead rely upon our steel and our wall. It’s strong enough to protect Gammon even if every volcano in the area were to erupt all at once! At least that’s what the locals say. They didn’t sound too dodgy, but... moving on! If you have any questions, our men will be glad to explain; show you how the cannons work, where the traps are and whatnot. Again, this really isn’t my expertise—oh! Our wizards have been creative as of late. We’ve these wind platforms that will fling those Noirs up, up, up! Into the air! Try not to get caught in them, yeah? Our navy will take care of our seas. They’re an outstanding lot, they are. All we need to do is focus! Gammon shall not sink here!

You’ll then be handed a magical bracelet. The miners use it protect them from toxic air, so this is a precaution; should you need it, it should last for the duration of the battle. Now all you have to do is wait and prepare for the battle. Acquaint yourself with the battleground: explore the Defense Wall and see what traps there are. It may give you some ideas of your own. There are also war cannons aligned on the top wall and within its interior. Otherwise, check your supplies or rest and collect yourself for what will come. Your mount may also want attention.


TWO ♙ Fellowship of the Bling
Initially cloaked by thick fumes of sulfur, ozone and the dreary overcast of the storm, the Noir battalion finally arrives. Their general, Spicy Spice, steps, nay, struts forward.

	Why is it that every time I come around, that Cochrane Bridge wants to go down? [ ADJUSTS HER WORLD CUP BRA ] They can’t keep that wall up forever.
Let’s make this a quick one, so we can get out of this smelly rain! [ gets ready to fire her gun in the air when she remembers something ] And don’t forget, target their puny pathetic healers, first. [ raises gun high above her head, signaling for the attack with a BANG! ]

On her cue, the Noir Vanguard rushes forward with a fearsome war cry, followed soon after by the Rearguard.

ENEMY ♟ Mounted Noir Soldier
Weak against None	Strong against Fire	Immune to None
These soldiers gallop onto the battlefield with their imposing GOLDHORN GOAT mounts. These are bigger and stronger than the average goat, and their golden horns tend to ABSORB SPELLS directed at their riders. Some spells in a soldier’s arsenal: GRISTRELKI sets fire to the rain — literally. It converts the rain in the sky into a barrage of fireballs. Pray your umbrella’s fireproof! With the PLAMEVODA spell, they can turn hot water (i.e. those from geysers) into bubbling hot lava. When combined with a strong cooling spell, the spell can trap you in rock… That is, if the lava doesn’t kill you first! DVIZHE SMERTI is a dangerous spell that paralyzes its target, rendering them unable to even speak or blink. This can be cured with mana exchange. Hurry before Noir strikes with a rain of fire!Of course, the soldiers are capable of HEALING SPELLS to assist their injured allies and mounts. The VANGUARD is lead by an impressive wall of massive shield units, armed with various melee weapons: swords, maces, and daunting battle axes. Herd them into the traps around the battlefield to render them immobile! The REARGUARD, armed with bows and arrows, will try to overwhelm the HEROIC VANGUARD. HEROIC DEFENSE back them up with long-ranged attacks and the cannons! If they get close enough to the wall, the Rearguard will relentlessly attack the Defense! Both units are under strict orders to prioritize an attack on the HEROIC SUPPORT. If they see any Hero or Gammonian soldiers helping each other or performing rescues on the battlefield, they will give chase IMMEDIATELY. DROPS: Shield with Noir Emblem, Flame Staff, Assorted Non-Magical Weapons, Golden Goat Horns, Lava Lamp

In the heat of battle, you will feel the ground beneath you shake and tremble. In a turn of events neither side could have predicted, a dormant volcano in the distance erupts, raining down fire and scorched earth on the area. More alarming, however, is how the resulting earthquake sets off powerful, white-hot geysers on the battlefield. Stay alert! To make matters worse, the approaching lava makes Noir’s fire spells even more deadly, and Noir shows no signs of letting up on their assault.

Spicy Spice You think a little bad weather is going to stop us? Don't make me laugh. [ laughs anyway, then falls into a coughing fit ] Urghh, damn these fumes — Oh whatever, Send in the riders!

THREE ♙ The Desolation of Noir
Undeterred by the eruptions, the geysers, or the bad weather, they’ve called in their aerial units, fierce griffon riders who’re trying to fly over the wall and into Friedgood. Don’t let them pass! Make use of your resources and shoot them down: Heroes with long ranged weapons or magic will find their skills useful here. Learned how to fire a cannon? Now’s your chance! If not, protect your allies, Hero and Gammonian, as they line up their shots.

ENEMY ♟ Noir Griffon Rider
Weak against None	Strong against Fire, Lightning	Immune to Wind
For the first time, Heroes will witness firsthand how Noir’s legendary griffon riders—often called masters of the skies—live up to their name. A griffon’s powerful wings not only lets them soar at great heights; they can whip up terrifying BEAMS OF LIGHTNING. Griffon riders are armed with JAVELINS which they can also throw and cast the same spells as their counterparts on land. However, they share a closer bond with their griffon mounts. Upon losing their master, the griffons will go BERSERK and proceed to kill everything in sight. If a Hero gets caught in a griffon’s talons, the creature will drop them into their boiling demise at either a GEYSER or VOLCANO. DROPS: Mount Treats, Riding Gloves, Noir Lance, Harness, Griffon Feathers, Griffon Talon

The lava is fast approaching and Noir can no longer take the heat. The griffon riders are maintaining their assault, but the rest of their army is falling back to escape. Time for you to retreat too before Gammonian soldiers seal the wall and you’re trapped on the plateau side. Fried Heroes ain’t Fried Good.

• Defense, continue shooting at any enemy target in range! Be attentive and aid your allies as they retreat back to the wall. Do not fear, you have the advantage.
• Vanguard, fall back! Watch the skies for any griffon riders on the way to the wall. Once you arrive, take down enemies who try to breach. Letting even one enemy pass could spell disaster.
• Support, grab the wounded and check the wall’s condition! Any damages should be repaired immediately to prevent the lava from entering Friedgood.

FOUR ♙ There and Back Again
The wall closes, sealing the lava and ending the battle. Hopefully no one got left behind.

Spicy Spice Now I'm wishing that I didn't wear these shoes (I hate heels). Better get up out my face! [ trips on her way out ] Oh shit!

Catch your breath, Hero. You won. First, check up on everyone and heal your wounds. If you borrowed a mount you might want to take the time to say farewell, since the trip back to Friedgood means you’ll be parting soon.

The people of Friedgood are grateful. They know what would have happened if you lost. There’s no time for fancy parties. They’re pulling out whatever they can find for a makeshift street party right then and there.

You can find bowls of Splotched Richard - a dessert pudding - and Bangers and Mash. If you’re in the mood for something strong you can get pints of Guileless or Pale Noir, maybe a Lasker Train Bomb if you can find someone who’s willing to mix it. Or perhaps you fancy a CreamAle, the favored drink of Grantebrycge.

You’re welcome to stay out and party as long as you like - the party is for you, after all! In fact, the people will respect you more if you get drunk and pass out on the side of the street. But for Heroes who’re tired from the war, you’re always welcome to stagger into the Bollox Inn for a room, free of charge.

Comments

[rememberher]

[ Ah.

At first she feels nothing. The world jerks forward suddenly, the force of her spell (and something else) propelling her, moving her closer to the exorcist.

Light. A light flashes in front of her vision, like falling stars flying past, a million light years a second.

Breath. She feels the breath as it is forced from her lungs suddenly and violently. She tries to fill them again, but she can't seem to take a good breath.

Allen. His body, the mana swirling around her, quivering. Her own tries to envelope him, gripping in desperation when her body cannot, the vivacity of her signature fading into a dull, lifeless gray. ]

Are you...

[ Why wouldn't her body cooperate? It was so strange. It took so much to force those words out, thin and breathless as they were, that when she tried to draw in another breath, her body shuddered against him.

One ragged, shallow breath.

Her head swam. Every sense betrayed her. Every muscle, every fiber of her being worked against her. But she could feel him close, even if everything felt like it was worlds away.

It was... comforting.

Gods, it was hard to focus. What did he just say to her? ]

Allen, you—

[ Another breath, as she struggled against herself, her body, her own worst enemy. ]

The wall... You...

[likethelight]

[ The wall...? Lux..

Sod the wall. ]

Don't talk. [ It's said quite softly, mostly into her hair as it tickles his nose a little. But even if he sounds calm, he can't keep the panicked sort of flutter from his signature as it's bubbling over with too many flyaway fears. Because his initial relief at feeling the brush of her own still there, weak that it is, turns to cold dread when it turns so dull.

(Like the light inside her is dying.)

Keeping her cradled against him and half across his lap as he crouches, braces, he reaches to take hold of the javelin. Gently so. Apologetic for what's about to come before he's begun. ]

Please try to bear with me—don't be in pain.. [ Words of power. The spell he'd first crafted to heal Caren that had resulted in removing her pain instead. Something that will spread like warm-cool tingle from where his arm keeps her braced securely still and numb any pain she might still be in—

—or the pain that will undoubtedly come when he rips the weapon free in one clean motion and throws it aside. Makes a quick, sharp motion with his free hand then over the now gaping wound...

...and for one of the very few times in his life, quite legitimately prays that the spell he's only tried once before to very lukewarm effect works. ]

And please be alright. [ Moderate healing magic. Desperate healing magic, backed by a gentle wish and an amplify Rook's honest hope that it will be alright that imparts a gentle, calming feeling. Something that's probably enough to seal the wound he's just opened. The nicks and cuts and bruises she's accumulated. The superficial...

...but not the deep. ]

[rememberher]

[ His voice was so soft, like the coo of a dove whispered in her ear. Comforting and warm, so much so that she practically leans into it, focusing so hard on those words, his voice, anything. Even as the world slowly starts to tunnel in on itself.

Please, Allen... keep talking... She didn't care what he said, keep talking...

If you don't, then she might...

(I'm scared.) ]

Allen—

[ Her body began to tingle, the feeling strange and altogether too far away. Chilling. Frightening. She grasped for it. For anything. Please...

She felt something tear. Her head swirled, and while she did not feel pain as he pulled the javelin from her back, she felt dizzy. As if the world, which had begun to grow frighteningly dark, had somehow tipped on its axis.

Another ragged, sudden breath. Then she eased into him, letting her head rest on his shoulder, feeling his hand on her back. A hand slowly rested on his back, trembling with the effort before moving slowly in a feeble attempt at comfort.

Comfort for him... and comfort for herself. ]

I can... see it now.

[ Her breaths were slower now, shallow and high in her chest. Her voice was soft, barely audible. Like a child, struggling to stay awake. ]

When I close my eyes... who I want to protect...

I...

[ Her voice fading, her lips moved silently, her hand falling to her side, the light around her fading to nothing.

She was gone. ]

1/2

[likethelight]

[ "Someone told me once...

She said the reason why we fight is because we have things precious to us. And that when we close our eyes and think of the "world"... what we see there, that's what's precious to us. What we want to live and fight for.

If you close your eyes and think of that, will you see the people here as well?"

That's what he told her. What he told her and what she wasn't able to truly answer at the time. ]

Lux? [ It's... small.

Because when Suman died, he could only feel helpless grief and rage against God.

When he thought Lavi and Chaoji dead after all of the rest he shook and screamed his grief. When he thought them all dead because of the Earl save for Lenalee he could only go after that man—that monster—with a single-minded hatred moved to near-suicidal desperation to erase something that brought so much pain and suffering from the world.

His Master and Link he never had the proper time to grieve. Wouldn't have known how to even with Cross which is perhaps why he never properly did.

Alma he grieved so deeply because no one else ever properly had for him and Kanda.

But when Mana died...

—blinking a little as his throat feels tight, he touches her shoulder gently instead of shaking it.

(Knowing shaking it won't make any difference.) ]

Lux? Wake up.. [ Light with a soft (weak) sort of laugh that cracks. Because you'd have to be joking, right? You would have to be joking, what good is this power if he can't even heal someone from a single injury.

What good is any of it if he can't protect the people he cares about and is protected instead by them. "You who sow chaos and conflict wherever you go..."

"The worst of them all, Allen Walker." ]

Lux.. [ Who won't wake up and he knew that before he said a word, even if maybe it's taken bowing his head and hugging her to him to really accept that and is why her name sounds like it's rent from him against every shred of his will.

(And still he'd want to apologize to her for how that means he's gotten her hair wet from how his face is pressed against it.)

But there are hoofbeats. Shouts. Soldiers. They are still the frontline, even if the frontline resembles the dividing line of hell now with its fissured ground, soot and heat and red glow washing over the land as the lava slowly rolls closer. And that's why Allen will very gently let her go, becoming very quiet then as he takes the cloak and mask from his shoulders. To wrap it around her with its fire resistance and keep her from the ash and embers floating down around them, even if they will begin to collect on the white fabric that's already begun to collect bloodstains.

So that he can rise, again so very quietly (shoulders back), and turn as a small contingent of Noir soldiers have spotted them, presuming the scene a rescue operation, moved to intercept.

(An arrow flies past his cheek and nicks it, but he doesn't blink.)

No. There's no reaction from Allen—save for how his eyes wash white instead of silver, pale and calm, too-clear from how they're wet, as that builds. Builds...

..and bursts forth as a torrent of every shred of grief, rage, guilt and desperation taken form. Brilliant white mana flying back in an aura like a ragged cloak—or wings losing their feathers in the wind. The cowl flung back as not so much a cowl...

But more like a broken king's crown knocked asunder.

(Castled.)

And like that he will meet them, fist connecting to face in sickening crunch. ]

2/2 and NOW we go with prompt 3...

[likethelight]

[ And completely unlike that, when Lux awakens and coughs he will blink and stir a little in surprise, like he'd been lost in thought. ]

! [ She's awake...

And he's almost tripping over himself a little as he leans over her. And despite still looking battle-roughened, he'd been healed (grudgingly and been forced) by Sion earlier so his wounds are gone. But so is half of the upper part of his uniform, the remaining parts tattered and burnt with dried blood. And most of what's been ripped away, even if his skin isn't marked, is in tell-tale swathes where a sword must have struck or a javelin ripped. No scars though.

Save for some telltale glimpses here and there of what surely couldn't be a giant one ripping down from his shoulder down his chest like someone tried to saw him in two.

None of that matters though as his shoulders drop a little in relief and he smiles. Tired... but glad.

And somehow looking so sad, too. ]

Lux... [ It's so very gentle it's almost a little wispy.

Hi. ]

[rememberher]

[ Forcing air into her lungs hurts, burns from exertion and effort. That was what triggered the sudden fit of coughing, the feeling that she needed to breathe, but that her body rejected the notion altogether. She needed oxygen, but Gods, doing anything hurt. She used a bit of that breath to whimper piteously, gently curling in on herself.

She didn't have adrenaline or Allen's gentle healing spell to take the pain away. The healers did what they immediately could for her, but had moved on hours ago to take care of others. She had to just grin and bear it. ]

Al... len?

[ She sounded dreadfully hoarse, blinking slowly as he leaned over him. Pulling a hand out from under her sheet, she reached up hesitantly toward his face, drawing back, then grazing her fingertips on his cheek. She needed to know he was real.

(Thank the heavens...)

She smiled weakly. ]

You're okay. I'm... glad.

1/2

[likethelight]

[ His cheek.

Allen blinks for a moment, then swallows. ]

2/2

[likethelight]

...the one who should be glad is me. [ It's a little watery, his smile, but he brings his hand up to brush over hers.

Really Lux. You were the one who died. Be concerned for yourself, not him.

Him, who... ] Lux...

[ His fingers twitch a little. Smiling still, so very gently but sadly still, but with a heavy way his eyes cast and hood. ]

Sorry—

I'm sorry. For before.

[rememberher]

[ ...He was crying. It was subtle, but she could see it, the crack in his smile, and his eyes...

Drawing her other arm back, she leaned against it, propping herself up slightly (and wincing gently with the effort). Her smile grew a bit more solid and she closed her eyes, shaking her head. ]

It's okay... You survived, that's... what matters.

[ There were many things that she learned during their last battle with Noir. Flirting with death, seeing one of her teammates die so horrifically, only to reappear again in Caissa. They were... expendable. This proved it to her, and as the idea began to dawn on her, it turned her stomach.

But this was fine. It served her purposes fine. She could keep fighting. If she fell, then she would get back up again. Again. And again.

And again. ]

Are we still... I need to go back... out there.

[likethelight]

[ Not crying, but... it's the thin and watered sort of smile like someone who had.

What matters? That he survived instead of her?

Lux, who when she did that made a whole series of rehearsed chinadoll statements she'd made suddenly make sense?

No, it isn't. ]

Please don't talk like your life means nothing. [ He says it softly but reinforced in such a way where his voice drops that it's heavy and weighty. Commanding if softly so, and that is a rare and would almost seem strange sort of thing for the gentle and kind-hearted sort of boy Allen is. And she will with her hand at his face be able to notice the roll of emotion behind it that's... almost anger, but not quite.

Raw grief, not anger, and the absolute conviction that's born from it.

But he shakes his head gently at the light touch at his cheek and her unspoken request, eyes closing. ] Noir pulled back. It's okay.

The battle—it's over.

[rememberher]

[ "Please don't talk like your life means nothing."

Her hand jerked back ever so slightly, fingers curling away from his cheek, held stiff. It was chilling, his words, his tone, everything, and, eyes widening slightly, she stared up at him.

He didn't... he couldn't understand. Fighting for his life, for others' lives as he did, he had something to live for. He had people to live for. Friends. Family. He had a purpose, meaning, a reason to survive.

Her posture eased, slackening even, and her gaze fell away. Something drained from her.

Purpose. ]

...

I see.

[ Her voice was wooden, dull and lifeless. Noir retreated, they had won; but why did she feel so useless? What good was she, then? Even if there was no longer a battle to fight... she lost.

"Please don't talk like your life means nothing."

You don't understand, Allen. If she couldn't fight, then... ]

If I can't fight... ...I don't have anything else.

1/2

[likethelight]

[ For Allen, who once was chastised for needlessly trying to throw his life away and asked if he didn't have anything precious to him... who responded he didn't; he'd lost it long ago.

And that was why he would be okay being the "sacrifice" for others who had more to live for.

That was what he thought once.

So you'd be surprised, Lux...

And yet she looks so defeated that he feels instantly contrite. And perhaps just a little stricken by that. "I don't have anything else..." ]

...

2/2

[likethelight]

[ It's why he's very quiet for a moment. Before the chair scrapes a little against the floor and it seems loud in the quiet of the room. So he can get up to his feet—

—and move to sit next to her, knee bent so as to keep his boots off the sheets and the mattress dipping and squeaking a little in the process.

Perhaps a little gingerly. He's healed, but he is still achy.

And perhaps because he's being so terribly mindful of a great many things as he does so as well. ]

Don't you?

[ It's gentle. So very gentle. ]

But... I think so, too. [ He truly does understand that and would never tell her she shouldn't fight. But Lux.. ]

But if you don't fight because you have something to live for...

Then you have nothing to fight for, either. [ But moreover...

Her dying words mean that's changed. ]

But I don't think that's true, either. That you think that's all you have.

So please—

[ For a second it would almost seem like he means to touch her hair—but doesn't, and instead scoots back a little with his back against the pillows as well and simply extends a hand to her instead. Because that night, on the balcony— ]

Didn't you say you wanted to fight beside me too?

[rememberher]

[ It was strange what dying did to a person. They were words that she never expected to hear herself say—something she strangely knew but didn't about herself—and regretted them almost immediately. It was as if she was above her own body, casually observing the conversation as an onlooker, instead of taking place within it.

Her mind was still addled from Sion's revival, and the healing spells whispered above her. How strange, the things it allowed her to say and think clearly; things she herself had not realized that she was denying.

It was a bit frightening, really. Shameful.

Sitting in the (uncomfortable) silence, her eyes trailing downward toward the folds in her sheets, she spoke to fill the silence; ]

You—

[ Then his chair moved, scraping against the floor, and the blond winced. The regret sat in her stomach like a rock. That was it, wasn't it, he was going to—

She felt him move beside her, the bed creaking gently with his movement, and Lux looked up in surprise. He spoke softly, almost tenderly, and she couldn't help but listen, focus onto every word, every syllable, every subtlety.

"But if you don't fight because you have something to live for... Then you have nothing to fight for, either." ]

But I—

[ Her protest was weak and lacked substance, quickly interrupted by the exorcists proclamations. He didn't believe her, the thought that she truly had nothing else to live for, no other purpose than as a tool, an instrument, a weapon for whoever needed it. The people of Demacia, the people of Blanc, they were nearly interchangeable in her mind.

If she couldn't fight, then she... What good was she?

What good was she?

What was her purpose?

The honor of defending crown and country. The highest honor.

That was... that was all that she was good for, right? Bringing her family honor. Bringing her country honor.

His hand went to sweep at her hair—no, he moved again, still seated beside her, but at her side now. At her side. He was there, by her side, offering the same hand he had that night, on the balcony.

And her heart leapt in her throat, the same way that it had then too. It wasn't a giddy, girlish excitement that drove it, but something more profound, something deeper. Something else she didn't quite understand.

She had comrades in Demacia, people she fought with. They all defended the peace of their country, but somehow she always felt detached, distant from them. They fought side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, but while they stood together, they felt... different.

"Didn't you say you wanted to fight beside me too?"

She reached for him with both hands, gently leaning onto his arm as if for support. Her mana had not yet recovered, lacking the vivacity and color that it had before (was it because of her injuries, or was in the uncertainty in her own mind that dulled those magnificent colors), yet still swirled gently. The ribbon of darkness that had always marred her signature still ever present (perhaps even more so than usual), it brought something curious in its wake.

A gentle, subtle warmth. ]

I did...

[ Her voice was hesitant, fragile and uncertain, but both hands gripped around his, enveloping it, as if she were afraid it would disappear. Like he would go somewhere, or somehow rescind those words. ]

[likethelight]

[ With both hands...

He smiles slightly at that. A sad-sweet, fond sort of thing, and instead of clasping her hands in return or anything so forward he just presses his thumb lightly in response against hers. Such a simple, small sort of gesture. Bittersweet, perhaps, because in that moment she is so very different from how she usually is—smaller—but...

Also exactly the same kind of person. Because the darkness in that sense about her...

He can tell. He'd noticed it the night of the ball as well, but hadn't really dwelt on it. Because.. it's fear, isn't it? Of not understanding who you are. The uncertainty.

(At least, that would be his presumption. That deep dark fear he knows far too well.) ] Aa...

So do I.

After all, aren't you the person who helps remind me who I am?

[ If she gives him an odd look for that he doesn't return it, gaze dropped to some point just over their hands as he speaks still with the same gentle, calm cadence. ]

Because the Lux I know has so many things that define her. So many things she cares strongly about, even if she doesn't think she does, and so many people that would be sad if she was gone. So if she let herself forget that—

[ ... ]

I'd be sad. [ And he wouldn't forgive himself. ]

That's why please don't say that— [ For such a featherlight way of speaking, it's earnest. Certain. ]

Because if it was true, it would mean everything else has meant nothing.

[rememberher]

[ With both hands, holding her steady, anchoring her to that spot, physically, mentally and emotionally. Feeling his thumb press gently against hers, she focused on the sensation, that alone continuing to offer her mind peace, slowly. It was something so small, but somehow it meant the world to her, in that moment.

Kinship. Someone who she wanted so desperately to protect. To stand with, side-by-side in battle, in moments of extreme happiness or uncertainty. To laugh, to cry, to find some semblance of normalcy in this strange world.

The feeling of coming home, and having someone to come home to.

Moving her own thumb to press against his, she looked up in startled surprise at his words. She... helped remind him of who he was? The woman who was so small that she might disappear, her brilliant light snuffed out by the lightest breeze, how did she..? The thought made her head rush. ]

Allen...

[ She sounded like she might refute him, but instead Lux fell silent, taking in his words, focusing on them and how much they made her ache. Her gaze lowered again.

(It was so much more complex, the darkness that had worked its way into her light. Old. There was uncertainty there to be sure, and fear—perhaps even more than usual, after he questioned her sense of self that night, hammering even further at that ivory wall of hers, calling its existence and necessity into question. But strange too was the anger, clinging to its edges. Desperation. Frustration. The feeling that she had no control of her own fate. That, if she were to let it out, if she were to become aware, it might swallow her whole. With no bright light to hide it, it was all laid bare for him to see, quivering like the heart of a child. Yet she seemed completely unaware of its presence.

And they say, the brightest light casts the darkest shadows...)

Staring down at their hands as well, her thumb pressed against his, a sad sort of smile gently gracing her lips. ]

I throw myself at anything. I can't sit still. I'm restless. If I stop, then I might...

[ She slowly shook her head. ]

I'm just a soldier. Someone meant to fight for the sake of others. I don't deserve such kind words. Especially not from someone like you.

[likethelight]

[ "Then I might..." ]

..Then don't stop.

[ A smile, and he does reach for her then with his free hand. The left one, ever mindful with it, to graze the rise of her cheekbone. ]

The most important words anyone ever told me were "don't stop, keep walking". [ Nea's words to Mana...

Even despite that; ] No matter what, I promised someone that. Until the day I die, I wouldn't stop.

Because even when you've arrived somewhere that feels like home forever, you've only just arrived at the starting line. Whether you stay there in that place forever then or have to leave there as well, as long as you have the thing you believe in striving after you'll always continue on.

You just need to know where you're going.

[ One brush and then two, tucking a few flyaway gold strands behind her ear. Just a small gesture that's more in how the armored tips of his fingers flex and deftly (delicately) smooth her hair, before he lets his hand begin to drop. ]

So especially from someone like me, you should hear something like that.

Because even someone who exists only as a weapon deserves that. [ And the mentality of thinking oneself a tool...

He smiles gently, eyes dropping to the side. And instead of letting his left hand drop back into his lap, he covers their hands gently with it. Like it's in some nostalgic memory; an important promise. ]

An Exorcist with a parasitic-type weapon becomes that. Two become one and they cease to be human.

[ Not all parasitic-types perhaps. The depth of his curse and his vows—they drove that in Allen's case. But that's not his point.

The point is also the one that is why, while her darkness threatens to consume her, what radiates from him through that clasp of hands is nothing less than the most softly brilliant sort of pervasive light. Cool-warm, like a slow-burning white fire that spreads gently and slow at first as it gains its roar. Gentle and fierce. Kind but unflinching in what is the absolute conviction of Allen, especially speaking as he is now of the things that bore his strongest and most defining vows to himself.

What is the semi-tangible form that absolute love has; the kind that has no boundaries or definitions and is just the undeniable desire to do and be moved to do whatever it takes to protect that which is precious.

He's simple like that.

That his own "darkness" is always there as its colder double is alright. Because to feel and believe like that, what a person goes through in order to be like that—it means that there is always that pervasive dark loneliness as well.

One cannot exist without the other. Lightness and dark.

And that will sear a promise into pledged hands more than anything he could ever say will. ]

Like that, their bond makes them a weapon to save the world then. Forever.

[ He gives their hands a small squeeze. Just a small one though. ]

But it doesn't mean that nothing else matters. If I were to live like I was to die, then I wouldn't be able to fight to protect the people I care about. Because a war that's based on sacrifice... it's meaningless.

There'd be no point to being a weapon to protect them then.

[ Although that doesn't mean he won't leave and do those things anyway. It just means it'll be a heavier burden he shoulders with the knowledge of the effect it has on them. ]

Right now you're not the usual strong Lux I know. Who feels everything so strongly and so brightly it's almost blinding to look at. [ Lux... who right now is so very consumed by her own darkness.

And resembles the sun catcher he got her not at all. ]

If someone like that disappeared in order to save someone like me—

[ featherlight: ]

...I couldn't bear it.

[rememberher]

[ Feeling his armored hand gently brush against her cheek, she doesn't startle or move away, but instead lifts her gaze upward to him.

(How strange that she had grown accustomed to the touch of that gauntleted hand to her cheek. How it was somehow... calming.)

"Don't stop, keep walking."

"Don't stop, keep walking."

It was something so simple, yet it stuck. Keep walking forward, keep striving toward something... It really seemed so simple, instinctual, but also so profound, enormous and overwhelming. She wasn't sure which way to go, what direction was forward. She had been muddling through since arriving in Enprise, not realize quite how lost she was until the world began to show her its true colors.

Watching his hand as he brushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, only to feel it rest gently upon her own. Following his gaze downward, she cants her head gently, watching him intently, noting the subtle change in his expression.

Someone like him. Someone who exists only as a weapon..?

"An Exorcist with a parasitic-type weapon becomes that. Two become one and they cease to be human."

Oh Gods, that was... Was that how he saw himself? How others from his world saw him? Allen Walker, the man whose smile was so wonderful and so tragic, a person who she had given her life to protect, and would happily do so again. Was that...

Was that truly how you saw yourself? It hurt. It was too painful to even consider. Someone who could bring people such joy, who could smile and laugh as he did, someone so caring and kind... He had given her strength in times when she felt so small. So why...

"Right now you're not the usual strong Lux I know."

His world was cruel. Too cruel. He had a family, friends, and yet he still said that of himself. Others said that of him.

"Who feels everything so strongly and so brightly it's almost blinding to look at."

She wanted to cry. She said she wanted to know the world he came from, envied him. Wanted what he had. But if this was his existence, the only one that he had known... then she...

"If someone like that disappeared in order to save someone like me—"

Moving her hands away, she grimaced deeply, her body hurting as she forced herself up into a sitting position. It hurt to move like this; it hurt terribly, but...

If that was how he saw himself, how the world he knew and loved saw him...

"...I couldn't bear it."

...I can't bear it!

Throwing both arms around him in an embrace, her arms lacing under his and hands rested on his back. It was something of an awkward embrace, as if the concept of holding someone like this were completely new to her. It was a bloom of uncertainty, but at the same time, even if just a little bit, her color had returned, enveloping then both in that subtle warmth that was still new to her.

She was silent, wrapped up in the moment, in his words, the sadness and resignation of them, and in some ways how similar they were to her own. No. Something like that wasn't meant for you. You were real, and you were here, and your feelings, while quickly pushed behind that Pierrot's mask you wore, were important.

Your humanity was important. A man whose purpose was the most noble of all, there was no possibility in her mind that he could be nothing but human. Perhaps the most human of the both of them. ]

1/2

[likethelight]

! [ Wahh—!

Bare back, bare back...! The griffins! ]

Lux... [ His eyes widen in actual surprise though, not scandal. Ah..

Because he's just frozen for a moment, because of the surprise that she would do so than any actual embarrassment. Lux, who's generally so reserved.. Who without a word has thrown her arms around—? ]

2/2

[likethelight]

...

[ A little heavily, slowly, with great care and mindfulness—he brings his arms up to loop around her in return. Quieted by that, like it's a very sobering sort of thing, a very important sort of thing, and he doesn't want to get it wrong.

It's weird. Once he would have been so high strung and fidgeted to, well.. "exchange" seems a terrible word to describe this. It's like trying to slap a label on "breathing" that's entirely wrong and calls all the wrong sort of attention to something so natural and a part of who they are. Why draw so much attention to it? It's gauche.

(Sensing someone's soul and knowing yours is sensed too. Intimacy of the highest sort, and so very ironically the kind that Allen doesn't bat an eye at.)

But he sags just slightly at that, relaxing inasmuch as some of the tension that's always in his shoulders bleeds off a little, and it's more to embrace her properly back so it's less awkward. Something warm and secure, apologetic, as his eyes hood a touch guilty and he looks over the crown of her head at nothing in particular.

Not unlike earlier, when she fell.

(Her hair tickles his mouth a bit this time though.)

Mm. ] Aa..

Sorry.

[rememberher]

[ It was so unlike her, to act in the moment. Even when someone was hurting, she would think before acting, quickly and quietly contemplate her movements before finally taking to action. She was logical, calculative, hardly a woman who acted rashly or impulsively—in most circumstances, anyway.

And physical closeness, showing affection, these were ideas that, before coming to this place, were seen as taboo. It simply wasn't done, she said on a number of occasions, scandalized by the thought. And while she still had her hang-ups on the idea, but...

She was not one to get caught up in the moment, but hearing his words, the weight of them, knowing now that that was his reality. It was okay.

If it was for him, it was okay. To be this close, to show even this part of her, the side she rejected, cast aside, refused to let anyone else see. Somehow, she knew he would understand.

(She could apologize for her forwardness later.)

Feeling him ease in her arms, the ache in her back, her entire body, seemed so far away. This was where she was needed, what she needed to focus on. This feeling. This moment. Letting her head gently rest on his shoulder, she shook her head slightly against him.

Don't apologize. Not for who you are, not for this. Not for anything. It wasn't your cross to bear. ]

I'm the one who should be sorry.

[ Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, tired but not nearly as fragile.

"If someone like that disappeared in order to save someone like me—I couldn't bear it."

Oh Allen, didn't you understand that she felt the same way? If something were to happen to you under her watchful eye, she would never forgive herself. And yet, knowing that... ]

I made you go through something terrible.

[ It was the same for him, wasn't it?

The fog over her mind, the one that clung cold and oppressive that told her to get up, keep fighting, until her body and mind broke, still hung there. But it was slowly easing. She could begin to see what was around her. And as she had in her last moments, she slowly (shyly) rubbed his back in reassurance.

They were both safe. She would stay here. So please. ]

I'm sorry.

[ From one worn down soul to another, hold your head high, Allen Walker. You are human. You are important. And she would do everything she could to make him realize this. ]

1/2

[likethelight]

[ ! ]

2/2

[likethelight]

[ That's... new.

And the realization of it has him suddenly oscillating quite rapidly between calmed and flighty because of it. Because even if Road had hugged him to calm him down... even if Cross had thrown an arm roughly around his shoulders once... even if Allen had embraced Sion only to be caught by him as he fell and even if Lenalee had clung to the front of his coat before and he'd hugged her before—

None of that is anything like this. The reassuring stroke of fingers across his back and how warm against the skin that is, tentative that it is.

..which I could suppose you could say means he's also never been properly hugged. Not since he was a small child.

And that's absolutely panic-inducing somehow, just in a way that's not bad either, and he takes advantage of the fact she can't see his face with how it's half-hidden against her hair to stare a little muzzily over her shoulder. Thoughtful. Unsure.

(But as Allen's spiritual strength forever comes from being directly tied to his emotions—he can't do anything to mask the confused roll to his mana for a moment. Like a stomach doing flip-flops.)

Haaah..

It doesn't mean he doesn't shift to rest a hand gently at the back of her head in response. Delicately; with finality. And will pull her a little closer in such a way where she isn't leaning over at quite such an awkward angle on her back and can lean against his arm.

Cradling like something precious. And looking terribly conflicted for a second over it, even if he exhales quietly finally and the tension finally bleeds off. ]

I think...

[ Soft, gentle. Almost a little raspy as it's said by her ear. ]

..I'd be okay in this war if I could make sure something like that doesn't happen again.

[ It's a little muddy, trying to find how he wants to say that. It's not usually muddy. Though by and large too, Allen isn't meant for wars where he can't save someone by destroying them. But protecting humans; the people important to him.. ]

For either of us.

[ Please let's not die for each other, but live to fight for each other. For their friends; the people important to them and the people that don't deserve to suffer the fighting. That's all he means. How he understands being a weapon with the most human of hearts.

And that's why his arms will only tighten a little and he's glad again she can't see his face. ]

Okay?

[rememberher]

[ Could he tell how nervous she was, barely keeping control of her own emotions (focus on him, not on yourself; focus on him, not on yourself)? Could he feel how controlled she was, thinking of nothing but how she could fix this? When she pulled him into an embrace, when she ran her hand gently, hesitantly, over his back, it was measured, almost restrained, as she focused every fiber of her being into one single objective: Comfort and reassurance.

This was strange and new for her as well. A feeling that she had to do something. To prove him wrong, to prove everything that he had been told, had been led to believe wasn't true. To apologize for... everything, really. For making him cry. For making him worry. For... everything.

And she could feel him, his mind working, trying to calm himself, his mind doing somersaults. She nearly let go of him then; she had crossed the line. Her hand began to fall away, and she readied another apology. ]

!!

[ Feeling his hand cradle the back of her head, gentle yet strong, her breath caught in her chest as he pulled her in close. Held her. She couldn't think, couldn't speak, and when he exhaled, she did as well. Staring forward, she was stunned.

Now it was her turn to panic, her head swimming and mind rushing, and all the colors that made up her being practically buzzing around her. Around them. ]

Allen—

[ Hearing, feeling his words at her ear, she stopped, bewitched by their spell. His voice... she had never heard it like that before. Almost hesitant, fragile, like glass. It hurt, hearing him like this. The man who always seemed so strong. Who somehow managed to see her in times when she was certain she would crumble and blow away in the wind.

He was...

Her hand once again resting on his back. Her breathing came faster now, and she closed her eyes tightly as she nodded against him.

(Please don't look at her face. She didn't want him to see her...) ]

Yeah.

[ It was a struggle to find her voice, and she continued to nod, burying her head deeper into his shoulder. ]

...I was so afraid that you... That I couldn't... That I...

[ She gripped tighter, her arms beginning to shake and the enormity of what happened, the reality of it beginning to seep in. That she had... ]

I was so scared...

1/2

[likethelight]

[ Ah no, Lux...

Feeling her start to shake—how small her voice gets—causes him to still for a moment. Surprised by that—and by her admittance. ]

Lux—