#𝑩𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑩𝑳𝑼𝑬 𝑺𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑴𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑲𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 | 𝑺𝑼𝑷𝑷𝑶𝑹𝑻: 𝑳𝑰𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑨

[anankelotus]

Sir, You’re Not Allowed to Lick the Oil Paintings [Team 4 Steel Round]

His head swims at the scenery shifts around him, until a grand hall like arena seems to appear before them. It’s beautiful for sure, but he’s only filled with unease and worry as he stares at the strange painting like enemies that they are meant to face.

He does not seem to be able to attack with any sort of magic any more, nor those he feel the ability to use that warm faith magic coursing through him. Instead, he has been gifted a lance. It’s a beautiful weapon, if a weapon can be called beautiful. He stares at it and it seems to fill him with an intense longing for something, though he can’t quite place what. Perhaps it is the reminder of Cadros, a longing for a lover long past him, who used lances and... ah, so this is what his dreams had conjured for him, he thinks as he finally notices the mount that he sits atop. A pegasus, like those who had once flown in Valla’s bright blue skies. He feels like crying, but he can’t allow himself to get sidetracked by memories of someone who had been long gone.

Anankos gains 2 HP from Renewal! | Anankos HP= 6/10

He feels steadier suddenly. Ah, so he seemed to have some sort of self healing ability. Good. Then he would not have let himself hold back his allies. His grip against the lance is pale as his hands shake. He can do this. He tugs gently on the pegasi’s reins, guiding it quickly towards the enemies they are facing.

He tries to remember what it was like to watch Cadros fight with his lance atop his trusted steed. The memories are blurry, corroded from being far too long for anyone to properly and the insanity that had been suffered, but the image itself is clear. With a careful spin of the lance - he has never handle one before, and hopes dearly that he won’t end up stabbing himself - he stabs at one of the paintings that seems to resemble the emptiness of a mind that has been taken over by the darkest of plagues.

Anankos attacks using Wishblade! Roll 1d20+8= 19! Hit! | Portrait of the Void HP= 6.5/10

Just as swiftly, he manages to dodge out of the way of the painting’s counterattack. It seemed easy upon a pegasi, being able to dart and flee from attacks, compared to depending upon his own feet. Though, how was a painting supposed to attack you to begin with?

Portrait of the Void counterattacks with Prismatic Colour! Roll 1d20-16= -9! Miss! | Anankos HP= 6/10

With the speed of his mount, he feels as though he is able to get away with a second attack and jabs the lance towards the painting once again, sharp point ripping into the weak canvas.

Anankos follows up with Wishblade! Roll 1d20+8= 23! Hit! | Portrait of the Void HP= 3/10

He breathes a sigh of relief, and turns to his allies, shouting a nervous call of advice as he gestures at the painting he has just finished his small rampage on.

“If I may, this one seems to be on it’s last legs so you could say! I believe that one or two more attacks may finish it off! Sorry for ordering you, you absolutely do not have to follow my commands if you don’t wish, but I do not want to see anyone get hurt again! So please, everyone be careful...” He mutters the last part under his breath, barely loud enough for even himself to hear. He can’t bear seeing them get hurt, even if he hardly knows them outside of Julius. He simply wouldn’t be able to take it, and he is already close enough to breaking down. It would only take one more crack to break completely.

next: @disgracedvessel , @arcaeda , @amitieos , or @higaneion

[anankelotus]

Immortal Soldiers Find Their Way Home, But None Will Hear Their Story [Team 4, Silver Round]

He’s surprised that he isn’t dead yet, with all of the struggle they have gone through in these past few... goodness, how long had it even been? He can barely keep track of time outside of the nightmare they find themselves in now, let alone within it. His head spins, barely able to keep a handle on the reins of his mount. He just wants to go home, not just back to the academy, but back to his real home. Back to Valla. The Valla of the past, where he could be with Cadros, where he could be happy once again.

He longs for pale blue skies, and lush fields that he spent his days lying peacefully in. But what would remain for him if he returned now? Nothing, most likely. He was not even sure that the Valla he had known remained at all, even the ruins held no sanctuary anymore.

He doesn’t want to fight. He doesn’t want to have to fight anymore. He has never been a fighter. Before... before... he had never seen battle before everything. He had never held a weapon in his hands, he had never needed to. Even when he had been forced to fight, he had never used a weapon. His own body had been more than enough, claws and teeth that should have never been able to hurt anybody. And he had relied on magic since coming to the academy, until now. The lances that have been forced into his hands during the past few rounds of this hell make his traitor of a heart long, long for what could have been if he was a better person. In a happier world, he would have fought by Cadros’ side during whatever battles he had been forced to endure, both of them lances in hand, the bond they shared as a reinforcement to their strength.

But Cadros is not here, this is that not that world. He is alone, like he always has been. He is alone and he is stripped bare by the very gaze of the world itself, lost and scared to fight. He fears that he can’t do it and then-

Then he sees the enemy they are meant to be facing. The face it has chosen to wear and he screams before he can stop himself.

“You can’t do this! There is nothing for you in copying me! I’m weak and useless and I have no strengths whatsoever! I’m ugly and disgusting, I’m telling you there’s nothing! Nothing at all!” He screams as if his words will mean anything to this monster, screams until his throat is raw and he has no more words to even scream. He is... so weak.

And as if the foolish mimic is fed up with him, before he can continue his pitiful tantrum, he is frozen in place by what feels the pure gaze of his own horrid eyes staring back at him.

Mimic uses Many-Eyed Gaze! Roll 1d20+8: 18! Hit! | Anankos is Frozen!

He can’t scream, he can’t move. He can’t even avoid the attack aimed at him with his own weapon. The force of the attack is enough to shatter the ice, but it isn’t enough to save him. He’s as good as gone.

Mimic attacks using Gradivus! Roll 1d20+10: 25! Hit! (Critical Hit Because of Freeze!) | Anankos HP: 0/10

Miracle Procs! | Anankos HP: 0.5/10

Anankos counterattacks with Gradivus! Roll 1d20: 19! Critical Hit! | Mimic HP: 25/40

The last of his strength is used with a pitiful counterattack, though he’s sure that it seems strong to those around him, and as he slips from life - again, he’s died before, he has to remind himself, he’s died in that girl’s arms and burdened her with so much pain - he catchs a glimpse of blue hair, and the last of his strength is used reaching out a pitiful hand towards the sight, even though he knows he’ll never reach it.

“Cadros... don’t let me leave you again...” The world goes dark around him as he hits the ground, and though he knows he can’t die, no matter how much he wishes he could, the pain still resonates within him. It’s over. He knows that deep down. But he stills wishes he could have... fought a little bit harder to survive this time...

haha fight hard guys: @disgracedvessel , @arcaeda , @amitieos , or @higaneion

[anankelotus]

a kiss on the brow 

kissies! (still accepting)

Anankos remembers Lilina from the arena, the dream that had beat them all senseless. And they remember her deaths, how small she had looked lying there upon the cold and unwelcoming ground. How small she was even when alive.

A sense of guilt seems to wash over them as they see her alive and vibrant and they can't help but think that they have truly wronged her in some way, even if all of them had suffered within the dreams wrought down upon them.

They plant a gentle kiss to the small girl's forehead, the words they mutter quiet and hesitant. If only they could have done more, to not be pained by seeing her now. What a regret that they can't help but feel. What else was there to do besides mutter a well earned apology?

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry I could not help you..."