Lemons

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

---

One more breath, and Alja finally managed to stuff her inadequacy and trauma back underneath the rug where they'd hidden during her time in Pariah. Don't unpack it. Don't even THINK about it. She stretched herself up to her full height, pulling Glacier Chain off of her back. She hefted it, taking comfort in the weight in her hand and the clinking of the enchanted ice chain. Another deep breath. Then she turned and jogged after Graves. As she drew closer to him (best not to stand between him and any monsters that crossed their paths, she thought) she clenched her jaw and turned to the rest of the group. With her trademark wide grin (she hoped nobody could tell the force behind it), she cupped her left hand to her face and called back to them. "See? Graves' got the spirit, ay? 'Mon then, that elevator isn't gettin' any closer."

A moment passed as she looked back at the rudimentary party. Then she hissed in a breath with a realization. Motioning to Rael, she jogged back over to her and pitched her voice down so as not to offend anybody. Her forced smile faded to something a bit more businesslike. "I know it's prob'ly kinda hard to treat this like a real raid for you, Rael, given how much better you are at the game than pretty much anyone here. But now that we got some lower levels with us, we should prob'ly choose which one of us is gonna main and off." Giving the flail an experimental twirl to make sure everything was in top shape, she gave a shrug and smiled faintly. "You got more experience, you choose and I'll fit, 'kay?"

Realistically, she thought she was probably a better off-tank in this case, since she could throw Frost Armor on Rael and keep DPS'ing. But from what (little) she'd gathered about Rael from her time in Pariah, she needed to feel 1) needed, 2) superior, and 3) in control, in no particular order. Keeping their arguably most experienced player's morale up was probably a benefit. Not to mention, making people happy made Alja happy, and she sorely needed a win right now.

But it wasn't like Alja was lying at any point, and she'd meant it all sincerely. Rael was a much better tank, and a much better player. Deferring to her was probably a good idea.

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Etoile

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“What about you? You aren’t going to bleed out after this, are you?”

Etoile's face twisted for a moment, almost as though fighting against itself. After a moment, a wry smile crept across it. "Hurts, but I'll be fine. Pride is more wounded than anything." She took a deep breath, retrieving her shredded cloak from the floor where it still lay, then sat down heavily next to the girl. The smile winked out as soon as it had arrived, replaced with a grim flat line. "All that being said, still better deal with it before it does become a problem."

With a few cuts from her sword, she'd sliced off a piece enough to serve as a bandage. Then, washing the clots of blood and dirt out again with what little water she had left in her waterskin—setting her teeth grinding—she quickly tied it in place with a few deft knots. The blood, flow renewed by the washing and by the crystalline block that had sat in it recently, immediately began to stain it as she sucked in her breath. "Hopefully, that'll hold."

Then the kid came up to her, overflowing with awkwardness and a forced laugh. And then she just...looked at him. Crossly, of course, but not the glare that he was probably expecting. Her gaze was hard, but level, as she weighed his apology. And only after a few moments had passed and she was sure he'd finished that she replied quietly, with a voice just the same: hard, but level. "No. You were correct to dislike and distrust me." Looking back and forth between the two of them, she took a deep breath, doing her best to speak calmly despite the pain in her leg. "I believe I owe you two an explanation." The rest of the group could possibly come later, but if she didn't speak now, then she wasn't sure if she would find herself able to again. And if nothing else, she wanted to explain herself to the paranoid Pythia. So she heaved in another breath.

"You are correct. I am—or rather, was—an Inquisitor. Perhaps a more complete introduction is in order." Now that she was at rest, she pulled the toggle of the severed cloak from around her throat, tossing it languidly into the dirt to rest next to its other torn piece. With it out of the way, she pulled her sleeve up until her shoulder was exposed, then rapped her left knuckles on the gleaming silver of her artificial arm before gently tracing around the crest with a finger. "My full name is Etoile Amélie Lécuyer, of the Iquenos Lécuyer noble house, daughter of Thibaud and Marianne. My brother is Edmund Lécuyer; the seventeenth head of the family, after my parents pass." Another deep breath, as she dredged up old memories. "I joined the Inquisition on my sixteenth birthday, and served for a full decade." She leaned backwards, unwilling or unable to look at either of their faces. Her voice softened, and she spoke more quietly. The muscles in her face tensed. "I thought it was the correct path. Until I learned of the deception of the Archon regarding the Nsiferum dynasty, and the injustice of their extermination." Her voiced hitched before the last word, and she swallowed heavily.

She looked up at the leaves above her. "I am not proud of who I have been. But what is done is done. I can only move forward now." The lump in her throat went ignored as she took one last long breath and then sat up straight again and looked them in the eyes. Her eyes slid past Zestasia and came to rest locked on Pythia's. They were both young. Too young to be traveling on their own. And the reunion with Pagonia only confirmed things. Her voice hardened again, quiet and bitter. "Kill me if you wish. In my state, I doubt I could stop you, and revenge would be justified. But it will not bring your families back. I have no love for the Imperium, I am more useful to you alive, and I will not go quietly."

Grimm Noir [Rebooting~]

@Raijinslayer Yo is that my man Silme

Grimm Noir [Rebooting~]

Is coo', still gonna watch cause games like this are just fun. Lmk if a slot opens!

Grimm Noir [Rebooting~]

Are applications for this still open? Been too long since I've had a good RWBY game.

Current Mood in One Gif

Iquenos: In Nomine Domini

Etoile

---

It's over. Breathe. Release.

With a grunt, Etoile fell down to one knee, all the adrenaline of the fight bleeding out of her system. She'd nearly died. She had been very certainly about to die. She'd been so fast...she swore under her breath as blood began to bubble from her wounds again, Clara's red crystals having melted away. She was so careless. So out of practice. If it hadn't been for—

"Pythia!"

The shout burst from her almost without conscious thought, and she broke into a limping run, heedless of her hurt leg. It had been fine thus far, it would stay fine another minute more. As she arrived, she slid down next Pythia and examined her worriedly. She was conscious, she was breathing, she was staring hatefully, and didn't look to be bleeding. But one could never tell with malum magicks. It could have injured her internally, and that would be harder to see. Come on, Sol, cut her some some slack.

It escaped Etoile that she wasn't acting rational or normal. It escaped her that Pythia disliked and distrusted her, and she felt the same in return. It escaped her that it was the first time she'd even used the girl's name. Escaped her that the longer she stayed around this group, the more likely she died horribly from some not-altogether-misconstrued revenge against the Inquisition. Escaped her that the maleficarum was still alive, still speaking. All of it faded away. Her vision tunneled down on the girl, and for that fraction of a moment, all she saw was just that: a girl. A child. She'd saved Etoile's life, and had been hurt—the older woman didn't know how badly yet—as a result. A bitter tang filled her mouth, and she suddenly felt a keen sense of responsibility for this. Wasn't it an adult's job to protect children, and not the other way around? She would need to be better in the future.

"Pythia..."

Words that had seemed so easy a moment before escaped her, and she couldn't even remember what they had been. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do? She snapped back to herself, and she shifted slightly, suddenly uncomfortable. When she spoke again, her voice was brusque as usual. The worry and tenderness that had been there in Pythia's name was gone, and she appraised her with a soldier's eye for injury. She stared into the girl's eyes, trying to gauge whether they were working properly, whether or not she could focus. "Numbness, weakness, tingling, headache, shortness of breath?"

And then a tiny voice inside her, ignored:

Please let her be okay.

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

---

Alja's head was still on Graves' shoulder, though her tears had faded to hiccuping sobs, by the time the water burst open and Rael came out. Alja jolted, then stood upright, rubbing her eyes furiously to clear them. Tears threatened to spill out again, but she pressed her fingertips into her closed eyes hard. What was she doing? What was she doing? They were trapped deep in the Thorin city sewers, one of their party members was still unaccounted for—wait, never mind, that was Kalie that Rael had just hauled out of the sewer water—and they had three low level players with them. There was no time for her to be bawling her eyes out. She couldn't afford to be useless agai—

She cut the thought off. None of that. What she couldn't afford was to be at less than one hundred percent. Her eyes were still swollen and red. On the other side of the cistern, she noticed the two lowbies that she'd put on that ice ledge hauling themselves out on to a small stone ledge and shimmying across it. Good. They'd ended up alright. She waved them over. After they arrived, she did a headcount, then frowned. The fear threatened to swallow her again, but she fought it down. When she first spoke, her voice was thin and reedy from crying, and she coughed self-consciously to clear it, though it still shook slightly. As she spoke, she paced back and forth nervously. Seven steps forward, seven steps back.

"Valena is—ahem—Valena's here, Yasmin's here—" She pointed to the remaining member of the low-leveled party—"'Fraid I haven't made his acquaintance, but he's here. So we're all grouped again. Good. Now, the problem is," she heaved a deep breath, looking around at her surroundings, at the stones dripping with condensation as they led off into yet more sewer tunnels, "we have no idea where we are, we can't get back to where we started, and the monsters' difficulties look like they've been cranked way the hell up. So we need to figure out a way to get outta here, but still keep everybody safe."

She stopped pacing and leaned against the condensation-drenched wall, her voice stabilizing some as she crushed down the rest of her emotions in favor of living to see another day. Her eyes panned over the rest of her significantly expanded party.

"So, any bright ideas? Anybody spent time down here, know the sewers in some way? Anythin' like that?"

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

---

You don't get it.

What do ya have to lose when you've got everythin' to gain?

Alja laughed.

"Well, glad you think of me that highly. But I'm...I'm not all that, really."

Her eyes fell a little bit. When she spoke again, it was most unlike her: halting and hesitant. "Really, I'm terrible. I promise. Not worth trying to help. Can I...if I told you a story, Graves, would you listen?" She turned away, staring at the cistern, and continued without letting him cut in. "It's about...an Edinburgh girl, and how she became who she is. This—mess of failures and mistakes."

She took one more deep breath. "Once upon a time, in Edinburgh, there was a twelve year old girl." Her face, unseen to Graves, was twisted up tight, holding back as much emotion as she could. Her voice was tight and strained. "She lived with her mother Elaine, her father Connor, and her...her brother. Gavin. He was five years her elder." Her fists clenched tight at her sides, and she lifted them, lifting up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. "This girl loved her parents very much, of course, but it was her brother that she loved the most. He was a super nice guy. Always had time for her. Never too busy to help her with her English homework, or to cut up an apple for this little brat." The last words were spat with absolute venom, and Alja paused a moment to compose herself.

"Then, one day, when their parents were out shoppin', someone came into the house. Gavin peeked out through a door, and a look of horror came onto his face. He shoved her into the closet of the room they shared in their small apartment, locked it, and whispered to her: Whatever you do, Kelly, do NOT come out until I tell you to, okay? He paused. I love you."

A shaky breath, less controlled than before. "So she...so she didn't. She stayed in that closet. And through a crack in the door, I—she—" Her chest began to heave. "—watched as...his...he had a gun, and Gavin—and I didn't—I couldn't—his head—"

And then again, she laughed.

But not her normal laugh this time. Not a nice laugh; a boisterous one, or a gentle one. It was a harsh, grating death-rattle of a sound, filled with scorn and anger.

"I watched—I watched it. I watched him die. And I...I sat in a closet. And I did nothing."

She laughed harder.

She was still laughing when the first tear trickled down her cheeks, opening a little rivulet of clear skin across her filthy face. Then, at some point—she wasn't quite sure when—the laughing gave over to crying. She wept openly, not even trying to wipe the tears away. For the next few minutes, she simply sat there, knees pulled up to her torso, head in her hands. Her chest heaved as sobs wracked it. At some point, the waterfall petered out, leaving a pregnant silence into which she poured her pent-up emotion.

At length, her breath hitched, and her crying shuddered to a halt. She turned her head, smiled lamely at Graves, her eyes still laden. And when she spoke, her voice was quieter, and seemed much younger than before.

"I—I'm sorry..."

Powerless. Useless. Worthless.

And then she was stricken by another set of sobs. She collapsed sideways, clutching Graves' armored shoulder and pressing her forehead to it, and wailed like a lost child.

"I'M SORRY!"

Pariah Online: A Voyage into the Intangible Aether

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A blush came to Alja's face as Graves spoke, and her eyes widened. Wha—Oh, it was when we were drunk, wasn't it...? Bah! No time for that right now! Not important!

She took a deep breath in, putting all thoughts of...of—she nearly put her head in her hands—Leaves out of her mind. This was not the time, nor was it the place. She stared out at the cistern, pondering what she would say. The sound of the new waterfall hammered at her ears with a heavy shhhhhhh, and she focused on the sound as a means for clearing her mind. There was something viscerally familiar about how Graves was talking. She stared at the water falling for some seconds, cataloguing her thoughts and organizing what she was about to say. Because she knew what Graves was thinking, and if she could do anything about it, then she was going to, damnit.

"Y'know, Graves...I know you." She responded to his bittersweet smile with a worried frown. "I know you a lot better than you think."

She crossed her legs, pulling herself up to a much more upright sitting position and looking at him seriously. "...and I know you a lot better than I wish I did." She held up a hand, forestalling a response and showing she wasn't done before she gave a heavy sigh. "So I know exactly what's goin' through your head right now. You remember back when we were fighting Arnaakus?"

She shook her head. "I ran in like a crazy person. Probably shoulda died. But someone," she laughed a little bit, "jumped in front of the claw. Saved my life. But threw himself into far, far too much danger to save a headcase like me. What kinda girl would I be if I didn't do my best to save you too?"

"And anyway, my life isn't anything special. Not like Leaves is going to reciprocate anyway—I mean, look at me, why would she?—and I'm sure you have people waiting for you too." Her frown changed to a kind, gentle smile, and she grabbed Graves' hand in both of hers, squeezing it tightly. "Graves—" A memory resurfaced from the murk of her drunken night, and stared him dead in the eyes, "—Andrew. You are worth so much more than you let yourself believe."