[center][h1][color=orange][u]O c h r e[/u][/color][/h1][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]  • Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ • [/center][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][hr][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

As the blue light of the administrator flickered away from the scene, Ochre quickly noted how symbolic the action seemed to be. Like the hopes of every person in the dungeon, it disappeared within an instant, as if it had never existed. He was also conscious of how calmly he seemed to be taking the situation, his body still with expression unflinching, gaze still locked upon the empty area where the announcer had once stood. Of course, it was highly likely that this was caused more by shock rather than by a stoic nature, frozen by his fear rather than weathering through it.

After all, it wasn't everyday that someone was told that they were stuck in a life or death situation.

It wasn't true. It couldn't be... could it? This sort of situation was only achieved within the realms of anime and fiction, weren't they? Games were meant for entertainment, allowing their consumers to distance themselves from the waking world, to escape from the troubles and conflicts that made up their day to day lives. They were meant to be a tool of escapism... Not a prison that promised one's demise should they fail in their task. Ochre knew it was abundantly clear he had not misheard, his senses acute in preparation of the dungeon's mechanics and traps that were surely set for their downfall, and the varying states of shock and desperation that fell across the other players. But... it was a hard pill to swallow. To understand that he was separated from his family in a decisive way that could end in his...

With a visible shake of his head, the virtual blacksmith pulled himself from his spiraling thoughts as a loud explosion brought his attention back to what was happening in the present. His gaze eventually swiveled towards the unmarred doors of the dungeon room, smoke drifting off of its pristine figure. Flat on his behind and visibly stunned by the lack of results for his efforts, Landon was the visual to Ochre- No, Maxwell's inner thoughts. Bewildered, desperate, and lost. He wasn't like Graves, who had a mask he could drop in order to reveal his true feelings, nor Ellian, who wore her heart on her sleeve yet could hold herself together in a trying situation. Ochre, Maxwell, could only be what he was. As his head drifted downwards, his eyes caught sight of the blood that caked his armor, placed there from the body he had carved for its materials. And in a fit of fear, he saw it to be his own. One mistake. That's all it took. A single misstep, and he'd die. No matter how careful he was, no matter how efficient he acted, with a single misjudgement he could end up just like the ogre he once stood above. Without his prompting, his breaths came faster, his hands shook with indecision. What could he do? He was just a single man in a sea of others, and with the stakes as high as they were he would be like any other in the throes of death-

[color=a187be]"Ochre?"[/color] A calm voice cut through the notions that ruminated at the forefront of his mind, a soothing break in the dark thoughts that had taken hold of him. With a turn of his head, Ochre took in the sight of his business partner, her chains at the ready by her sides as the air around her seemed to be suffused with the mana of her auras. In that moment of clarity, she seemed like an anchor in the world around him, ready for the troubles ahead despite the weighty nature of the situation before them. Within seconds, his hands began to still, breath caught just before it could escalate any further. [color=a187be]"Come here,"[/color] Altissima spoke once more towards the blacksmith, and at her call he obeyed, his armor clanking with each step he took until he was within her sphere of influence, already feeling the weight of the auras she had activated as he made a move to her side. As he took the space right beside her, Ochre closed his eyes and rose his head, taking a deep breath as his heartbeat steadied within his chest. [color=orange]"...Thanks,"[/color] he voiced out with a calm, even tone, his head once again set firmly on his shoulders as his ears picked up the beginnings of Graves' attempt at a rallying speech. He didn't expect the Enchanter to understand what he was thanking her for, yet he did so nonetheless. She didn't do much, really, but all he needed was something to anchor him down, something solid he could hold on to.

All she did was be that anchor, for a single moment in time. And for him, that was enough.