"Everyone needs to feel love, and if everyone did perhaps the world itself would change."
That thought suddenly bloomed in the ethaefal's mind, as he withstood the torrent of emotions flooding from the hypnotist, standing as her anchor and pillar against the harshness and cruelty of the world. While this little thought might not mean much at the moment, it would eventually be the seed that blossomed into something bigger in the future, manifesting in the form of increased compassion and empathic understanding. That would serve as his transient anchor to humanity in the midst of his growing apathy from his myriad of magical studies and research.
"Even if we cannot, Verlyna, we must," Eridanus answered softly. Verlyna was not the only person who experienced an emotional rebirth from this episode, for this shared experience had involved both of them together, and shaped them. No longer was he scared, frightened, unsure, uncertain. It was like now he was born with a purpose, and he discovered the role in him as a protector. This little seed of personal development would also manifest itself in his continual role of guardian and friend to a certain konti in the future.
Now there was a sort of calm in the moonborn's visage. A self-assured confidence and a languid smile was all that completed his expression, for he knew what to do now. It did not matter what happened in the end, but he knew what to do. Perhaps Ionu had finally deigned to grant him his objective, or perhaps Priskil had really listened to his prayers and blessed the two of them with courage and vigor for this ordeal. In any case, he was ready.
"I understand your reticence," The warrior gently tapped the hypnotist's shoulder, communicating his acknowledgement of her fear and apathy in this struggle for control. For she had finally been reborn with a new will and a new soul, no longer chained to the whims of Drysalla. "But I must fight, and I will fight. Together with all those who love Alvadas, we will fight till the very end. If you tire of this tussle, find a safe place and await the conclusion of our conflict. At the very end, I promise to find you resolution somehow. Do not fear your existence, for I will keep your flame alive one way or another."
With that, he followed Alluvia who suddenly appeared, her aura blazing with confidence in a similar light as that of the ethaefal's, but perhaps even aglow with divine fervor. Her confidence stoked his morale, and together they strode into the throne room, and he found two combatants already locked in battle.
Wait.
If Alluvia was fighting, then-
Eridanus looked at the Alluvia who lead him into the room in surprise, then turned his head several times as he shifted gazes between the two.
What in the world-
Another person approached him, addressing him and it took the celestial being by surprise because his aura and presence was completely unrecognizable. It was as if he were a different person. Yet, this being before him was quite undoubtedly Miro. The voice, the face, the frame of his build, it all bore a resemblance to the immature boy wizard from before that was Miro. However, this was different. The gravity in the measure of his tone, the maturity of his posture and the little subtle differences throughout his body shaped him into a much different presence. A more intimidating one, for lack of a better words.
"What happened to you?" Eridanus could not help but utter when he came to this realization upon his observation.
Miro told him his battle plan, and he agreed. There was actually little need for Miro to channel hypnotism because the logic was already sound, and persuasions built on emotional foundations would do little to shake a rational man. His competitive advantage lay in his melee capabilities, and Miro in his ranged attacks via Reimancy. They were a perfect tag-team. Though he did not know of the manipulation through Reimancy for he had not been focusing his Auristics on Miro specifically and because his attention was divided partially to the clashing combatants, it was supposed that he had Miro to thank for the hypnotic djed that flowed from Miro to Eridanus actually boosted his courage and confidence further, giving him the extra edge in exerting his physical abilities to the fullest.
"Cover me," He told Miro. He could see the wizard starting to summon res, and likewise he gave his own body a mental look-over. Detecting the map of djed threads pulsing through his body, he grasped several of them with flux, bursting them with the speed of lightning downwards to his legs, down to the specific muscles that he was so familiar with. When running, different muscles of the legs worked differently and in minute intervals. A novice flux mage would simply throw all the djed downwards into the lower torso for increased strength. A better one might perhaps switch up the rhythm - up and down - to compensate for the loss of upper torso strength. What he did, however, was to alternate the flux strands completely from muscle to muscle. From calf to thigh. Then streaking them over to the muscles of the other leg when his feet flexed and pounded the ground. Like a piston in a gadgeteering engine, it was a matter of muscle memory and reflexes, and his meditative mind carefully balanced the careful act of juggling as he accelerated, his speed causing him to burst forward in sudden activity.
He knew that the wizard was powerful enough to project his res to match his physical speed, so there was no need to hold back. There was no need to hold back on Drysalla at all, the defiler of all that was good and pure in Alvadas, and one that must be redeemed one way or another, whether it be salvation or destruction. But either way the corruption must be cleansed, and he would be an instrument of Priskil wielding blades of light.
As he neared the two, there was a blur of light at the side and lightning streaked into their target, the surroundings still sizzling with the smell of burning air. Taking advantage of the distraction afforded by the attack, he streaked flux into his arms, wielding both his blades as he unleashed a lightning quick furry of slashes and strikes. It was like a dance, a beautifully improvised form of art that could only be aesthetically better should the movement of flux within his body be visible to the imaginary audience. Djed streaked like the lightning that Miro summoned from muscle group to muscle group, and from arm to arm, almost-perfectly coordinated with the timings and strikes of his slashes as cold iron and steel flashed in poetic succession.
It was that brief window of opportunity that afforded the warrior to unleash his lethal attacks, and he knew when it was time to create distance and not to linger too long. As such, he exploited that small interval of time to unleash his attacks, not caring how much or how little damage his attack did, and then he quickly cavorted backwards, rolling and tumbling as he acrobatically created distance in an unorthodox manner, zig-zagging backwards to Miro's side as he channeled flux to his arms and legs whenever they made contact with the ground. From a range he expected the wizard to cover him, and so it was probably the only 'safe zone' in the raging battle.
Then Miro made a suggestion. A dangerous suggestion. Yet, perhaps, with someone like Alluvia and her dedication and passion to the city. A beloved of Ionu. Perhaps someone like that might be suitable for such power. It did not help that the remnant of Miro's hypnotic djed remained within the ethaefal, and that made him more susceptible to the boy's suggestions especially if, like in this case, he did not have any particular beliefs of his own.
"Try it," He echoed to Alluvia, to the one not engaging in combat but the one holding the mirror like a scepter, standing strongly like a force to be reckoned with.
That thought suddenly bloomed in the ethaefal's mind, as he withstood the torrent of emotions flooding from the hypnotist, standing as her anchor and pillar against the harshness and cruelty of the world. While this little thought might not mean much at the moment, it would eventually be the seed that blossomed into something bigger in the future, manifesting in the form of increased compassion and empathic understanding. That would serve as his transient anchor to humanity in the midst of his growing apathy from his myriad of magical studies and research.
"Even if we cannot, Verlyna, we must," Eridanus answered softly. Verlyna was not the only person who experienced an emotional rebirth from this episode, for this shared experience had involved both of them together, and shaped them. No longer was he scared, frightened, unsure, uncertain. It was like now he was born with a purpose, and he discovered the role in him as a protector. This little seed of personal development would also manifest itself in his continual role of guardian and friend to a certain konti in the future.
Now there was a sort of calm in the moonborn's visage. A self-assured confidence and a languid smile was all that completed his expression, for he knew what to do now. It did not matter what happened in the end, but he knew what to do. Perhaps Ionu had finally deigned to grant him his objective, or perhaps Priskil had really listened to his prayers and blessed the two of them with courage and vigor for this ordeal. In any case, he was ready.
"I understand your reticence," The warrior gently tapped the hypnotist's shoulder, communicating his acknowledgement of her fear and apathy in this struggle for control. For she had finally been reborn with a new will and a new soul, no longer chained to the whims of Drysalla. "But I must fight, and I will fight. Together with all those who love Alvadas, we will fight till the very end. If you tire of this tussle, find a safe place and await the conclusion of our conflict. At the very end, I promise to find you resolution somehow. Do not fear your existence, for I will keep your flame alive one way or another."
With that, he followed Alluvia who suddenly appeared, her aura blazing with confidence in a similar light as that of the ethaefal's, but perhaps even aglow with divine fervor. Her confidence stoked his morale, and together they strode into the throne room, and he found two combatants already locked in battle.
Wait.
If Alluvia was fighting, then-
Eridanus looked at the Alluvia who lead him into the room in surprise, then turned his head several times as he shifted gazes between the two.
What in the world-
Another person approached him, addressing him and it took the celestial being by surprise because his aura and presence was completely unrecognizable. It was as if he were a different person. Yet, this being before him was quite undoubtedly Miro. The voice, the face, the frame of his build, it all bore a resemblance to the immature boy wizard from before that was Miro. However, this was different. The gravity in the measure of his tone, the maturity of his posture and the little subtle differences throughout his body shaped him into a much different presence. A more intimidating one, for lack of a better words.
"What happened to you?" Eridanus could not help but utter when he came to this realization upon his observation.
Miro told him his battle plan, and he agreed. There was actually little need for Miro to channel hypnotism because the logic was already sound, and persuasions built on emotional foundations would do little to shake a rational man. His competitive advantage lay in his melee capabilities, and Miro in his ranged attacks via Reimancy. They were a perfect tag-team. Though he did not know of the manipulation through Reimancy for he had not been focusing his Auristics on Miro specifically and because his attention was divided partially to the clashing combatants, it was supposed that he had Miro to thank for the hypnotic djed that flowed from Miro to Eridanus actually boosted his courage and confidence further, giving him the extra edge in exerting his physical abilities to the fullest.
"Cover me," He told Miro. He could see the wizard starting to summon res, and likewise he gave his own body a mental look-over. Detecting the map of djed threads pulsing through his body, he grasped several of them with flux, bursting them with the speed of lightning downwards to his legs, down to the specific muscles that he was so familiar with. When running, different muscles of the legs worked differently and in minute intervals. A novice flux mage would simply throw all the djed downwards into the lower torso for increased strength. A better one might perhaps switch up the rhythm - up and down - to compensate for the loss of upper torso strength. What he did, however, was to alternate the flux strands completely from muscle to muscle. From calf to thigh. Then streaking them over to the muscles of the other leg when his feet flexed and pounded the ground. Like a piston in a gadgeteering engine, it was a matter of muscle memory and reflexes, and his meditative mind carefully balanced the careful act of juggling as he accelerated, his speed causing him to burst forward in sudden activity.
He knew that the wizard was powerful enough to project his res to match his physical speed, so there was no need to hold back. There was no need to hold back on Drysalla at all, the defiler of all that was good and pure in Alvadas, and one that must be redeemed one way or another, whether it be salvation or destruction. But either way the corruption must be cleansed, and he would be an instrument of Priskil wielding blades of light.
As he neared the two, there was a blur of light at the side and lightning streaked into their target, the surroundings still sizzling with the smell of burning air. Taking advantage of the distraction afforded by the attack, he streaked flux into his arms, wielding both his blades as he unleashed a lightning quick furry of slashes and strikes. It was like a dance, a beautifully improvised form of art that could only be aesthetically better should the movement of flux within his body be visible to the imaginary audience. Djed streaked like the lightning that Miro summoned from muscle group to muscle group, and from arm to arm, almost-perfectly coordinated with the timings and strikes of his slashes as cold iron and steel flashed in poetic succession.
It was that brief window of opportunity that afforded the warrior to unleash his lethal attacks, and he knew when it was time to create distance and not to linger too long. As such, he exploited that small interval of time to unleash his attacks, not caring how much or how little damage his attack did, and then he quickly cavorted backwards, rolling and tumbling as he acrobatically created distance in an unorthodox manner, zig-zagging backwards to Miro's side as he channeled flux to his arms and legs whenever they made contact with the ground. From a range he expected the wizard to cover him, and so it was probably the only 'safe zone' in the raging battle.
Then Miro made a suggestion. A dangerous suggestion. Yet, perhaps, with someone like Alluvia and her dedication and passion to the city. A beloved of Ionu. Perhaps someone like that might be suitable for such power. It did not help that the remnant of Miro's hypnotic djed remained within the ethaefal, and that made him more susceptible to the boy's suggestions especially if, like in this case, he did not have any particular beliefs of his own.
"Try it," He echoed to Alluvia, to the one not engaging in combat but the one holding the mirror like a scepter, standing strongly like a force to be reckoned with.