#ensha: “things can always be worse. AND THEY WILL BE.”

[izar-tarazed]

Which symbolic fruit are you?

Izar: 🍎Apple

The apple is most commonly known for being associated with the forbidden fruit that Eve eats in Catholicism which casts her and Adam out of heaven: original sin. However, apples are also symbolic to Pagan fertility goddesses, the seeds of which are five and showcase a pentagram when cut horizontally. The apple in any case, represents wisdom and knowledge, independent desire and curiosity. You are someone who seeks to understand the world better. You believe in independent thought and asking questions which to some may be hard to answer. There's been times where you may have persecuted for being different from how others expect you to act, but have never let that stop you from speaking your mind and taking what you want. However, be wary of leaping into things you don't understand. Knowledge is a wonderful, illuminating thing, but knowing too much can be a burden to some. "Someone who seeks to understand the world better", "independent desire and curiosity", "be wary of leaping into things you don't understand" ... that's all very Izar! Absolutely a perfect fit.

Ensha: 🍊 Clementine

In Chinese culture, clementines, known for their bright orange, waxy exterior, were symbolic of gold, and by extension, wealth, good fortune and abundance. Trees that bear clementines (or mandarins, as they're also known as) are often used to decorate the thresholds of Chinese households as a sign of good luck and prosperity. As lucky as Clementines may be, so are you and those around you. With a sunny disposition, and a knack for seeing the best in everyone, and the good in the world around you, you're someone who believes that the glass is always half full. Things can always be worse, and they will always get better, one way or another! Like the vibrant clementines you're known for bringing light to those who need it, and always bringing laughter to your friend group. However, such a bright exterior can sometimes hide a deep and lingering sadness. Remember: even the light sometimes has to dim, and even the sun has to set. Don't worry; it'll always come back.

... Excuse me, I'll be down here, rolling on the floor laughing. "Sunny disposition"? "Always bringing laughter"? "Bright exterior"? ... BUT I retook the quiz for Ensha three times and always got the clementine, even with slightly changed answers. Well, I guess some things still track if we consider the whole ancient king/lord of the lost and desperate stuff from his armor. Gold, wealth and abundance, check. "Known for bringing light to those who need it"... of course. He has the little candle. (And I already have a whole headcanon around lost lore regarding that.) ... I still can't stop laughing at "sunny disposition".

[Tagged by @miserycorde - thanks! Tagging: anyone who'd like to do it!]

[izar-tarazed]

Altus Plateau's about as rough a going as one might've expected. So close to the capital, to the very heart of the Erdtree and its crumbling Golden Order, the fighting is some of the fiercest he's seen in some time. They're a pair though, Izar and Ensha, and every lordsworn patrol and golden knight contingent they've faced has fallen whether by blade or storm of spell. Maybe that's why the Fell Omen comes for them, a horned death wielding weapons of ghostly gold as he holds all three of them at bay. Tail lashing, ethereal blades glinting, staff plowing into the ground-- Sam still can't say what it is that spurs him into action. Something felt rather than seen, or some detail he's picked up that he can't explain that has him barreling into Ensha's flank, perfume already on his lips... before the Fell Omen's staff slams into him with the force of a battering ram rather than Ensha. Things got blurry after that. Thrown off his feet. Got broken bones even with that ironjar aromatic. Only just coming back to some semblance of awareness to see Margit disappear into golden mist. Not too bad, he mutters. And if Sam meets Ensha's empty gaze for a moment with just a tilt of the head for an explanation... well, it probably doesn't mean anything.

The first emotion to flood her is relief, as the Fell Omen finally vanishes before them—truly defeated or merely bored from the encounter, who can say—and Izar, clutching her staff, manages to catch her breath. Then, just as she whirls around to see how her companions are faring, there is also confusion, tinged with a hint of irritation and something else, intense enough to throw her off balance for just a heartbeat, until she realizes that those feelings are not her own.

Even after all that time of travelling together, Ensha’s occasional silent outbursts of emotion still take her by surprise sometimes. She finds him standing, if a little battered, head tilted, staring down at Sam who clearly hasn’t fared as well during this fight and is groaning faintly on the ground.

And Ensha just holds onto his clinging bone, dark eye sockets staring as if he can’t possibly fathom how anyone could go down in a fight like this—a notion that in turn stirs Izar’s very own confusion. Maybe it is because Sam usually knows to keep a safe distance from whatever foe they are facing, and Margit seemed a little more focused on her and Ensha anyway.

Still, she feels a twinge of guilt (this time, she’s rather certain that it is hers, although it lingers and blurs in an unusual way, so maybe… not only hers) as she rushes to Sam's side and reaches for her flask of Crimson Tears. Concern and guilt, she finds, are inseparable and constant companions when travelling in company, like shadow figures silently sneaking after the party. While company means less loneliness, more eyes to spot enemies and more blades to get an upper hand in a fight, it also means that someone other than herself might get hurt, or worse. It means failing gets easier because in a sense, in the one sense that matters, one is always more vulnerable in company.

‟Weren’t you just boasting about some perfume that makes you all but invulnerable?” she mutters as she hands Sam the flask, her gaze flickering back and forth between him and Ensha who shouldn’t be that… baffled.

And there’s something, the quickest exchange of glances between Sam and Ensha that makes her frown in confusion (this time, it is undoubtedly her own).

‟What happened?” What a redundant question to ask considering the sheer might they just have fought. In a sense, it is clear what happened, but there’s still Ensha who’s now twisting the clinging bone between his fingers as if he’s trying to find a whole new way to wield his trusty weapon, and who still hasn’t met her gaze.

Finally, he puts the weapon away, clenching and unclenching his fingers for a moment, then signing with an anger she can’t quite comprehend, Tell him to watch his step, and not to… not to… His motions falter, something that rarely happens, and he shakes his head. Whatever that just was. He really is angry, and for the first time in a long while, Izar realizes she has no clue why; not really.

But still, he trudges closer, staring down at the injured perfumer again before slowly, almost reluctantly, reaching out a hand.