He knows he's made a mistake the moment he sees her.
It's on Master Grima's orders he's here, orders he couldn't have refused even if he'd wanted to, and he'd known that leading Risen this close to Ylisstol meant that there'd always be a chance he might run into old comrades. He'd steeled his heart against that possibility, had been reinforcing those barricades on his heart for some time. But the decision to join the fray himself turns out to have been a tactical error as soon as he realizes Lucina is here. A glaring tactical error, to assume that she'd be keeping to Ylisstol all this time, that she'd ever stay out of the fight when others' lives are on the line. It makes him grit his teeth, a nasty feeling he doesn't care to name curdling in his stomach. If he'd known — if he'd planned for it like he ought have — he'd be watching from a safe distance.
He can't withdraw now. The stakes are too high, and Master Grima would find his failure unacceptable. And if he can bring assurance to his master that the princess is dead for good, Master Grima might even grant him some small reward. That thought snags on his mind on the way out, like fibers catching on a doornail, a momentary discomfort that he shoves away. He's loyal to Master Grima — he always has been, even when he wasn't aware of it — and he'd struck with intent to kill once. Surely he could do it again.
He has a whole raiding party with him. It doesn't necessarily have to be by his hand. He quashes the wave of cowardice that comes with that thought, balling it up and discarding it like every sudden surge of unneeded sentiment. It would only slow him down anyway. Morgan swallows around a suddenly dry tongue, pulls his hood over his head, and takes up the rear guard behind his Risen, thunder magic crackling to life in his hand.
She's not allowed to leave Ylisstol. By order of so many, Lucina is forced to stay behind. For her safety in a war she should be fighting. She knows that without her their chance of winning against the Fell Dragon's hordes are next to nothing, but stilling still has never truly been one of her strong suits. So she paces, unable to keep nervous energy in. Are her friends safe? Have they found the jewels yet? What of the soldiers accompanying them?
She can't sit around and do nothing, no matter how she's been ordered to. Especially when she catches wind of Risen near the capitol. People could be hurt, in danger, and what kind of an Exalt, let alone shepherd would she be if she let that happen? Lucina steals away, at the very least confident of her own abilities against the oridinary risen. No one has to know it was her. No one has to know that she'd thrown herself in the thick of things. And... maybe for a night, people might rest a little easier. It's that hope she clings to as she comes across the horde, as she readies falchion to cut and carve a path to a brighter future through them.
It's on a downward swing she hears the tell-tale crackle of lightning, of magic, and it's enough for her to lift her head towards the source to make ready for the attack. It's not unknown that Risen can use magic as well. Uncommon, but not unknown. What is unknown is the figure who wields said magic does not move like them. There's no shaky movement to their body, and that means that despite the army of the dead, this person is alive. It's enough to cut a blow to her heart. She understands why those of the living would turn towards the Fell Dragon. Towards whatever stability or notion of safety in these uncertain times it might offer, but..
"Stay your hand and I will let you live." Lucina calls out, and internally winces. The thought of taking a life. the thought of hurting someone so very much alive, with a future of their own, nags on her heart, and near catches the breath in her throat as she levels her sword at them
It looks like it'll have to be by his own hand after all. It was wishful thinking to imagine that some shambling undead soldier might finish her off, not when she's survived so far. Morgan had almost forgotten what she looks like when she fights, that economy of motion, the way she swings Falchion so as to make it seem weightless. He can't let that memory fade completely; it's valuable data, all of it is — everything he'd learned about them in the course of his adventures with them, until Master Grima had awakened in his mind again, it was all data to incorporate into his tactical matrix. It would have been a waste to simply forget all of that, even if he'd had to prise the sentimentality away from every memory himself. It had been like pulling out his own teeth, one at a time, but it had been necessary.
He can't afford to draw this out. She knows how he fights, too — if he can't end this quickly, she'll be able to tell it's him. He tells himself that that, too, is only a tactical concern, even as the sound of her voice cuts through his mind like a knife. Would she still extend him that mercy if she knew just who she was offering it to?
He seems to hesitate, like he's considering her offer of parley, his hand stilling and the spell beginning to die out. But he's already gathering lightning in his other hand, and in the next instant he shifts his weight and hurls the spell at her without restraint, aiming low.
[ morgan's always happy to help out with whatever needs doing, so when he's tasked with gathering fruit, he agrees with a smile. who doesn't love a little fresh air and sunshine, right? plus it's good exercise! as far as chores go, it's a pretty nice one.
well, alright, he is kind of sweating a little under the sun, but he doesn't really mind. what's most interesting to him is that there are a bunch of fruits here he's never seen before. he wonders if they've got any of this stuff back in his own world, or if it's unique to this place. either way it's pretty neat! he holds up a round, greenish-yellow fruit that seems to have spawned a few extra lumps and laughs to his assigned fruit-picking buddy. ]
Hey, some of these come in pretty funny shapes, huh? I don't think I've ever seen one of these guys before.
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sunchime2022-03-12 10:22 pm
no subject
It's on Master Grima's orders he's here, orders he couldn't have refused even if he'd wanted to, and he'd known that leading Risen this close to Ylisstol meant that there'd always be a chance he might run into old comrades. He'd steeled his heart against that possibility, had been reinforcing those barricades on his heart for some time. But the decision to join the fray himself turns out to have been a tactical error as soon as he realizes Lucina is here. A glaring tactical error, to assume that she'd be keeping to Ylisstol all this time, that she'd ever stay out of the fight when others' lives are on the line. It makes him grit his teeth, a nasty feeling he doesn't care to name curdling in his stomach. If he'd known — if he'd planned for it like he ought have — he'd be watching from a safe distance.
He can't withdraw now. The stakes are too high, and Master Grima would find his failure unacceptable. And if he can bring assurance to his master that the princess is dead for good, Master Grima might even grant him some small reward. That thought snags on his mind on the way out, like fibers catching on a doornail, a momentary discomfort that he shoves away. He's loyal to Master Grima — he always has been, even when he wasn't aware of it — and he'd struck with intent to kill once. Surely he could do it again.
He has a whole raiding party with him. It doesn't necessarily have to be by his hand. He quashes the wave of cowardice that comes with that thought, balling it up and discarding it like every sudden surge of unneeded sentiment. It would only slow him down anyway. Morgan swallows around a suddenly dry tongue, pulls his hood over his head, and takes up the rear guard behind his Risen, thunder magic crackling to life in his hand.
all my icons are dead
She can't sit around and do nothing, no matter how she's been ordered to. Especially when she catches wind of Risen near the capitol. People could be hurt, in danger, and what kind of an Exalt, let alone shepherd would she be if she let that happen? Lucina steals away, at the very least confident of her own abilities against the oridinary risen. No one has to know it was her. No one has to know that she'd thrown herself in the thick of things. And... maybe for a night, people might rest a little easier. It's that hope she clings to as she comes across the horde, as she readies falchion to cut and carve a path to a brighter future through them.
It's on a downward swing she hears the tell-tale crackle of lightning, of magic, and it's enough for her to lift her head towards the source to make ready for the attack. It's not unknown that Risen can use magic as well. Uncommon, but not unknown. What is unknown is the figure who wields said magic does not move like them. There's no shaky movement to their body, and that means that despite the army of the dead, this person is alive. It's enough to cut a blow to her heart. She understands why those of the living would turn towards the Fell Dragon. Towards whatever stability or notion of safety in these uncertain times it might offer, but..
"Stay your hand and I will let you live." Lucina calls out, and internally winces. The thought of taking a life. the thought of hurting someone so very much alive, with a future of their own, nags on her heart, and near catches the breath in her throat as she levels her sword at them
no subject
He can't afford to draw this out. She knows how he fights, too — if he can't end this quickly, she'll be able to tell it's him. He tells himself that that, too, is only a tactical concern, even as the sound of her voice cuts through his mind like a knife. Would she still extend him that mercy if she knew just who she was offering it to?
He seems to hesitate, like he's considering her offer of parley, his hand stilling and the spell beginning to die out. But he's already gathering lightning in his other hand, and in the next instant he shifts his weight and hurls the spell at her without restraint, aiming low.
no subject
well, alright, he is kind of sweating a little under the sun, but he doesn't really mind. what's most interesting to him is that there are a bunch of fruits here he's never seen before. he wonders if they've got any of this stuff back in his own world, or if it's unique to this place. either way it's pretty neat! he holds up a round, greenish-yellow fruit that seems to have spawned a few extra lumps and laughs to his assigned fruit-picking buddy. ]
Hey, some of these come in pretty funny shapes, huh? I don't think I've ever seen one of these guys before.