Prize: The friends we made along the way (exp)
Contact Made: Yup!
Character #1: @
Bonded: n/a
Magic: vexillum - arc flash
Armor: n/a
Weapons: n/a
Current Health: 15
Current Attack: 25
Current Experience: 27
Character #2: @ipomoea
Bonded: rhoeas the criost deer
Magic: dominus - nature spirit
Armor: n/a
Weapons: shape-shifting enchanted dagger thing
Current Health: 60
Current Attack: 60
Current Experience: 117
He does not ask, really.
They are standing together, quietly. Andras has come to the Court to deliver a stack of paper: reports on the past, quiet, year, a few messy, scribbled notes about comings and goings around the city, and an envelope that he slides under the bottom sheet-- a detailed testimony from one of the guards as to Emersyn's state-- which will go unopened, he's sure, just as all the ones before them have, as well, gone unopened.
Andras looks at it for too long, possibly. He purses his lips. When his focus breaks, when he finally looks away from the table, the stack, the envelope, it is only to say: "Fight me."
He is surprised to feel desperate, surprised to find himself searching the king's face, for the glint or two of violence that he knows lives in the cheekbones, the soft brow, the bridge of the nose. He is surprised by the absolute depth of his longing, the one that waits only long enough for Ipomoea to nod before pushing him out of the room and away from the ground, lifting like his own heart lifts and laughing like it, too.
So, the battlefield.
So, the early spring ground, drier here than in Delumine but still soggy enough that it sucks at his hooves when he lands.
So, the roar in his heart, the drum of blood and magic as it races around his body, the familiar crackle of electricity when he thinks of the point of impact, the sting of broken skin, the bright white screech of his fear with a blade pointed straight at his throat. Andras trembles but it is not with that fear.
No, when he sees the king, when the keen of his magic rises to a choir in all Andras' hollow parts, he does not feel fear, or anything like it. Only joy. Only bliss. Enough to make his head spin.
"Let loose." He says to Po, more of a demand than a comfort. "It'll be fun."
The Warden squares his shoulders and grins like a dog: teeth on teeth on teeth.
i am being perfectly fucking civil
Attack Used: 0
Attack(s) Left: 2
Block Used: 0
Block(s) Left: 1
Item(s) Used: N/A
Response Deadline: October 27, 2020
Tags: @ipomoea, @Sid, @inkbone, @nestle, @layla
