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

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. ]

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[likethelight]

[ ! ]

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[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...

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[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—

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[likethelight]

[ ... ]

I know. [ And something about how he says I know... It's almost like once he knew that feeling, too.

The helpless fear of death.

But he smiles gently by her ear, like an inaudible hum that's quiet and calm. Peaceable with how his fingers thread through her hair in a soothing gesture.

Allen, after all, is forever at his strongest when it's for the sake of others. So if she's feeling shaky he'll make sure he isn't. ]

But you know, it's okay now. Even if it might not feel like that right now... [ And even if he knows she'll never forget what it feels like, that fear. Because Allen never did; even in the middle of battle when fighting the very same person who had left him bleeding out and alone.

But even if it'll never go away... ] Or even for a long while..

Even if the scars remain... after the fight's over, we heal.

[ Smiling still, beside her ear, and he pats her head again. ]

And I'll be here until it doesn't seem so scary anymore. [ The battle is over and no one will miss him with all the celebrations in the street—something he doesn't mind missing because to him, it doesn't really feel like the sort of thing one celebrates.

And to be honest, even if he's healed he's so tapped out he's exhausted and could sleep for days. ]

Alright?

[rememberher]

[ You know, with everything that happened between them, the fact that somehow he could manage to get her to feel things—things she wasn't even aware of—it was embarrassing. Luxanna Crownguard, the Lady of Luminosity, the light of Demacia, a source of hope for the people, reduced to a trembling, emotional teenage girl time and time again. It was laughable! He must think her a bit of a crybaby by this point.

The infallible, vivacious and determined young woman who others sought out for strength, she always seemed to stumble and cry around him. The woman who felt things so intensely, yet kept it all to herself. Who was afraid to let anyone see the darkness that threatened to strangle the color from her life.

He could see through that, couldn't he? Was it the same for him as well? Was that why he made her cry so readily? When she thought that she had cried away all her tears, ripped from her home by her own father and mother to "study," cursing the world, her fate, her duty, every damnable thing about her name, her title, the so-called greatest honor of Demacian nobility... The greatest honor, the greatest honor. Become a tool for crown and country, throw your humanity away in the name of Demacia, and serve the greatest country in all of Runeterra.

But she wasn't a tool, wasn't a weapon. Here he was, to remind her that she was still human.

She wasn't sure if she hated it or loved it.

The world that was no longer black and white, but painted with every color in-between, a world that was terrifying and strange, wonderful and horrifying.

A world with people she was afraid to lose, that she could see even when she closed her eyes, glowing and good and real like the rising sun. A world where she was afraid to die, where she had been told, again and again, again and again, again and again that it was the greatest honor to serve crown and country. To die a Hero's death. To be glorified; a sword, a shield, a staff for the state! Only cowards fear death.

It was all right to be afraid of death. That was part of being human too, wasn't it? Then call her a coward, she didn't care. Here, in this moment, she never felt more alive.

And it was terrifying.

She was human. She was flawed, capable of feeling, seeing, experiencing, even if the thought scared her. But so was he. The man who had been told since Gods knew when that he was a weapon, meant to fight and die and nothing else.

And if he would reject that fate for her, then she would do the same for him. She would show him. They are living things, they could hurt, they could cry... but they could also be strong. Strong for themselves, and strong for each other.

Being able to cry like this, even if it was just a little bit, it felt good. It felt so good. ]

You'll stay with me?

[ She sounded hopeful, even if her voice was a bit raspy. She was still holding back, it seemed. Hopefully he wouldn't mind... ]

[likethelight]

? [ How is that even a question?

It's an outright ruffle of her hair then, some quiet if maybe still a touch weak laugh just under his breath.

Because it's better this way, finding a way to smile instead of losing themselves in any regrets. ]

Of course.

[rememberher]

[ And somehow, hearing him agree, seemed to defuse that last bit of apprehensiveness, and as it melted away, she too seemed to melt into him, her grip easing. She was still there, but it was less out of desperation, but out of the genuine need for comfort.

Dying did such strange things to one's overall wellbeing. And truth be told, she... liked feeling him so close, so real. Although she would never admit it, not in a million years.

Her breath still hitched in slow, steady jumps, but even that seemed to calm.

A pause, then: ]

Can I ask you something?

[ Her hand moved again across his back, lightly, subtly. Like she was feeling for something. ]

Why is the back of your shirt missing?

[ ...Really, you chose to wait until now to ask about that? ]

[likethelight]

[ ............. ]

! [ You could hear a pin drop as his smile flares suddenly at that, quick and sheepish. Ha—that... ]

Oh...

[ Did we have to be reminded of that, Lux. ]

...during the fight, I suppose... [ It didn't take many griffins clawing at his back to shred that... Although if her hands keep moving—

Perhaps that's why he stills, given the very large amount of scar tissue that, yes, does cover his back the same as his front. ]

[rememberher]

[ You suppose? Allen, how do you just lose a good part of your uniform like that in battle?

...

You know what? No, she isn't going to ask. Her heart probably couldn't take it, since it was after she, well...

(What did you do?)

Feeling him still, her hand stopped, lifting gently. It would be her luck that it hovered just over that same scar.

She wasn't going to ask, it wasn't her place to, but to say that she didn't feel it before would be a lie. Normally, she would force herself to leave this sort of question alone (like his arm), but...

Letting her hand hover there for a moment, she grazed it gently with her fingertips, before lifting her hand away. ]

...How did you get this?

1/2

[likethelight]

!

[ ..The mask she said he wears? She was right, because outwardly aside from that sudden stillness he doesn't seem to react. Just gets a little tense.

But there's a bolt that goes through him at that and a fidgety sort of flutter. Like feathers jerked in an electric breeze and a sudden flare of awareness.

(Perhaps it's also because she did so so very gently and that caught him by surprise, because no one's done that before either.)

That's... hard to explain, Lux. Which is why, after a second (and taking a breath)— ]

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[likethelight]

[ —he smiles gently. Not sadly. Just... stitched.

And, placing his hands on her shoulders, sits back a little. ]

It's fine, it's just an old wound.

[ And since she'll probably ask: ] It was from a sword. [ One that apparently circled around entirely, as the same spidering scar tissue continues over his shoulder and collar under the remaining tattered front of his uniform. Uneven and ragged, like it rent and split the skin instead of cutting it.

He didn't lie—he wouldn't and he couldn't bring himself to—but it's also not really the truth. Just because... how could he even begin if he wanted to? ]

[rememberher]

[ She felt it, that sudden jolt, and quickly pulled her hand away, afraid that she had done something very wrong. Feeling him pull back slightly, she was convinced—her curiosity had gotten the better of her, and not at all in a good way.

(Sorry...)

And seeing it there, that scar snaking over his shoulder and continuing down the front of his body, she very noticeably pales. Because a scar like that...

Something like that...

No one should be able to live through an attack like that. Gods... ]

...

[ ...But something bothered her about this. Allen, you said you fought Akuma. Terrible monstrous things that threatened the lives of humanity.

Why, then, had you been nearly cleaved in two by a sword..? ]

Who attacked you?

[ Not what. Who. ]

[likethelight]

[ Lux...

Don't look so severe.

Smiling, he reaches to brush some of the hair behind her ear again (ironically probably the same he'd mussed inadvertently earlier) and won't question about how that's a normal, reflexive gesture. And he does so like it's a small (fond) sort of admonishment.

Don't look like that. (Don't look sorry.) ]

An akuma.

It was [ complicated ] ... a hard fight for all of us.

[rememberher]

[ When did something like brushing her hair aside become so natural for the both of them? And why did he feel in necessary to use something that she had grown accustomed to as a means to scold her like a child?

You were worming away from something, Allen. She wasn't stupid. Quite the opposite, in fact. ]

An akuma wielding a sword.

[ Her voice dripped with skepticism. Like she actually knew what she was talking about. She didn't, but it was her own way of bluffing. Pressing. She may not be able to keep up in a card game, but he was quickly moving on to her playing field.

There was never a secret she couldn't figure out, couldn't uncover, couldn't take. She could never steal anything physical, but this. This was her playground. Finding and stealing secrets.

Now, what did she remember from that night? From what he told her? ]

[likethelight]

[ ow wow, so acidic, Lux...

She might be bluffing, but it doesn't mean she's any less right and while he will be dodgy and try to avoid telling her something that would only worry her, he isn't going to be so disrespectful as to lie outright, either. ]

No, not quite like that.

[ Is he squirming a little? He might be squirming a little. ]

[rememberher]

[ She wouldn't be Lux if she didn't worry about things that either didn't concern her, were somehow blown vastly out of proportion, or simply were not her business. This could be classified into at least two of these categories. Three, if she was lucky.

She was going for broke, apparently.

Sighing heavily, it was her turn to admonish him, by simply resting her hand on his shoulder (that shoulder), holding him in place and looking up at him through her eyelashes. ]

Allen...

You're not very convincing when you move around like that.

1/2

[likethelight]

[ .......... ]





[ urk ]

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[likethelight]

[ Haaah...

She can be incredibly stubborn. And so, letting a bit of a sigh out, he has to smile, head canting to the side. Smiling... in a way that's a little hard to look at, even if perhaps there's nothing wrong, sad, or even strange about that smile at all.

Because her hand is also still brushing his shoulder. ]

In order to defeat it I had to strike myself as well. [ He says it... so simply for what it is. Smiling like it's nothing. Do you get it now, Lux?

The sword that struck him was his own. By his own hand. ]

[rememberher]

[ She was always rewarded for her tenacity, for her stubbornness. For sticking to her guns and not letting up.

But this was not the prize that she wanted. This was not it at all.

Her hand quickly moved from his shoulder, fingers curling inward, like it hurt to touch. He did this to himself... to defeat an akuma. This gash across his body, a wound that would (should) kill any other man...

He... he nearly killed himself to...

She looked up at him, his words sounding so matter-of-fact, and that smile on his face...

(She felt ill.)

The color nearly drained from her face, and as she lowered her gaze again to his shoulder, an icy chill running through her. This was what he meant. When he said he was just a weapon...

No. No no no. That smile, that matter-of-fact tone, that he could be so nonchalant about this. Stop it. Just. Stop it. Don't think of yourself that way. She didn't want that! ]

I won't let something like that happen again.

[ Her voice was soft but resolute. Emboldened by his complete disregard for himself, for how terrible he sounded, and by how much she hated that smile. It was different from the tragic, clown-like smirk he gave her from time to time, the one that made her heart sink and her chest hurt.

This smile. It made her angry.

Not at him. But at what he had to go through. What he was made to believe about himself. ]

Not while we're here. I won't let something like that happen again.

[ Looking up again, she would meet that smile that she hated so much with conviction. Determination. ]

I promise.

[ And she would move heaven and earth to make sure that she kept her word. Watch her, Allen. ]

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[likethelight]

[ It isn't really... like all that. Nothing quite so dramatic. And the part he didn't tell her of course is at the time he didn't think it would actually hurt him (hadn't been thinking at all really), as Allen's sword would not harm humans and only cut that which is evil...

..and yet it cut him.

And now he realizes that day, that cut, that scar—is the day that memory first began to truly waken in him.

(But that as far as Crown Clown was concerned, he was already "that which is evil" before then.)

And that's why he won't tell her any of that. Even if it makes him feel a little guilty, seeing how resolute she gets. ]

It's okay.

It'd be hard anyway— [ It's light, soft, almost airy with the way his eyes warm in appreciation, gratitude, and he brings his right (human) hand up... ]

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[likethelight]

[ ... and taps her very gently on the nose. ]

—since that sword is no longer here. [ ......did he?

he did

Ah, but then he can't help it anymore and smiles wide. ]

[1/2]

[rememberher]

[ How could she know? The things he was made to endure? The literal demon in himself that he fought, the thing that made him so dangerous to the people whom he called his family? How could she know? How much it hurt (physically, perhaps, but emotionally? Mentally? Never.), how much he cried, cursed the world, cursed fate, cursed God. Cursed everything.

How that scar, how that day, how that instant changed everything. How could she know? He would never tell her.

She didn't care about the damned scar at this point. She since stopped caring the moment she knew the true nature of why he got it in the first place. And Lux wasn't a stranger to seeing that sort of thing; a magician normally would never experience such a wound, and, if they did, live to tell the tale.

But she had seen what war did to a body. She was no stranger to it.

(Sion, the undying juggernaut of Noxus, his body reanimated even after being cut down by the first king of Demacia, only to return the favor. His body stitched back together by some dark magic, corruption and greed; and his insides practically hollowed out, replaced by a hellish magical furnace that kept the dead husk alive.

Urgot, the Noxian executioner who had sold his body for experimentation. And what was left, reanimated by gears and steel and wild Zaun magic, was a monster. A bloated, disgusting thing, with what "humanity" he had left stitched back together like an old doll.)

So Allen, you so thoroughly missed the point, if you thought she was fixated on your scar, the broken and ragged reminder of something that, in her eyes, had gone so wrong. No, that wasn't what set her blood to a rolling boil. She wasn't angry at him.

She was angry at the existence he was made to endure. That something like that could almost be a joke to him. That he could tap her nose and smile and laugh as if it was all right and this was fine, it was all fine.

And at that smile, that disgusting, sanguine grin, how practiced it was, how easy it was. How inhuman it was. ]

I know that.

[ She was strangely quiet then, her voice level and calm. Controlled. But could he see it, even in that briefest touch, how absolutely dark her mana ran? How it burned so cold that it was hot, nearly painful (...did it hurt her as well?). How all the colors that made up her entire being, the light shining so bright, so strong, only made that darkness more profound, more apparent.

She was a woman who felt everything so strongly and so brightly it's almost blinding to look at. Those were his words, weren't they? If he wanted, needed proof of that, he need only just touch her briefly. Even a tap on the nose would do.

Old anger. Old, newly realized anger. ]