Lessa

Jomei called out to Freyd, and Lessa used the momentary distraction to move up behind the Emerald Duelist. "Hey handsome," she greeted, giving him a few seconds warning before sliding her hands under his armpits and hauling him to his feet. Considering he had nearly a foot on her, the move was not graceful or especially effective. But she still stole a brief moment's satisfaction from the close contact. They had been fighting for what felt like an eternity, grabbing short rests where they could, and traveling where the need was greatest. As often as she could she fought by Jomei's side. But th

Her eyebrows disappeared beneath her shaggy bangs, startled surprise splashing across her face. Her gut instinct was to argue - of course she wasn't a bitch, and how dare he accuse her of being one? Righteous indignation flared, but instead of fanning the flames, she simply shook her head. Because, damn it, she was a little bitch where Jomei was concerned. And what good would denying it do? "Of course I'm a little bitch," she answered, groaning with frustration, and throwing her arms wide. "Look at him. He's... he's..." She gesticulated so wildly that it probably set off her Italian uncle

Relief flooded Lessa as Oscar materialized from the shadows. Raindrops sliced down his chiseled features, but it did nothing to soften the expression on his face. The man looked downright murderous, and for a split second, Lessa worried she might have done the wrong thing by messaging him. Did he consider it a waste of time? Probably. And she did not need her very large, very scary friend turning that anger on her. She would much rather forcefully drag Lilik back to the gate herself. She was opening her mouth to apologize when Oscar went off on Lilik, confirming Lessa's suspicions. Yup, h

Lessa observed the onslaught in silence, forever impressed by the precision with which the Frontliners attacked. Like a well-oiled machine, they landed blow after blow, slicing away at the Knight's health bar with seemingly impossible speed. No matter how many times she witnessed it, it always took her breath away. These ordinary people - students, bankers, chefs, engineers, retail workers, restaurant owners, high school teachers - had picked up swords and become full-fledged superheroes. Sure, the system assisted, but they were still out there putting their lives on the line every day. And th

It took more focus than Lessa would care to admit for her to pick her way down the slope. They made it look so easy in Braveheart, but descending the hill was proving to be quite a bit more difficult than she expected. Rather than acknowledging her clumsiness, Lessa instead placed all of the blame on the rain, and the way the earth seemed to shift beneath each and every footfall. Beside her, a Player bounded gracefully by, as confident on the slant as they might be on flat ground. Damn gazelle, she thought, mixed parts annoyed and impressed. She, on the other hand, would take her time. She wou

Alyssa had always hated running. In elementary and middle school, she kept an old finger split in her locker, and popped it on whenever the mile run rolled around. "Sorry, gym teacher who is also the varsity women's soccer coach, I can't, I'm injured." When it came to high school, and she found out that participating in Track and Field would get her out of the P.E. requirement, she didn't hesitate. She really latched onto the track portion of Track and Field, because much to her delight, shot-putters didn't have to run. But you know who did have to run? Frontliners, apparently. Lessa

This happens when the two of us combine (the timebomb's ticking, so). Oh, send reinforcements 'cause we'll cross the line (have mercy on our souls). All she heard was the rain. She couldn't say for sure if that was the only sound. Somehow, she knew it couldn't be - she was standing in the middle of a forest, for heavens sake. No doubt, there were other noises, like the creaking of trees as they bowed to the strong gusts of wind. Or the crunch of the leaves beneath her boots with each step that she took, her long strides carrying her deeper into the woods. Or the scurrying of little

Though no music played, and the bar was missing the trademark hum of other patrons talking, the steady drumming of the rain had provided a soundtrack of sorts. Their gentle back-and-forth, hazy at the edges with the help of the alcohol, also blanketed H.P.'s in a serene stillness at odds with the horrors they'd experienced all day. It was comforting, a tiny oasis in a barren wasteland. Of course, Lessa shattered that stillness as she slammed her glass atop the bar with a crack reminiscent of gunfire. "Are you kidding me?" she howled, swiveling on her stool so that she faced him. Without w

Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: Purify (4), Impetus (4) SP Incurred Towards Limit: 8 SP SP Refunded: 8 SP Cost: 8,000 Col

As the first crisp notes of Jomei's violin rose over the storm, Lessa let her head roll back. "My Chemical Romance," she growled, pleasure coursing through her body and through her words. "Yesssss, such a good choice." There was something haunting about so many of My Chemical Romance's songs, and Helena in particular had always set her on edge in the best kind of way. The song was about not being there for the people who needed you, after all, and it was so much more morose on a single violin. It fit the mood perfectly, accompanying the party's actions like an expertly crafted movie soundtrack

The sight of a new abomination tore another curse from Lessa's rain-slicked lips, but it was lost to the thunder that crackled overhead. "This floor is insane," she managed, once the ominous rolling finally finished. She loved storms, and thunder had always been among her favorite sounds, but she simply wasn't a fan of it when it was produced by Floor Twenty Nine. An involuntary shiver ran through her, and this one had nothing to do with the chill in the air or the rain seeping through the cracks in her armor. If there was any silver lining to be found, it was that she stood surrounded by

"Okay, sorry, I'm back!" The shout carried through the fog, and was followed seconds later by a bedraggled Lessa. Her cheeks were flushed crimson with exertion, and framed by the tendrils of blonde hair that were plastered by the never-ending rain. Mud climbed Lessa’s boots, splattered as high as her armored thighs, and caked the hem of her cape. She’d limited herself to only half a dozen complaints about the abysmal conditions, so as not to bring down morale, but another danced just on the tip of her tongue as she slowed to a stop beside Jomei. “Got distracted by a-” Octopus? Tentacle monster

The weight of the world dragged at Lessa's shoulders, and she worried she might collapse beneath the addition of Jomei's hands. Instead, she managed to draw in a long breath, and then she forced herself to meet his gaze. But the warmth she found there, and the pure, unadulterated compassion, nearly broke her. So she busied herself with counting the raindrops studding his eyelashes like tiny gemstones. When he smiled, she offered only a tight-lipped response, as if showing her teeth might be the final crack in the dam that held back... what, exactly? Tears? Grief? Longing? A colorful array of e

"I am convinced that there is nothing simple in this damn game," came her answer, though she couldn't find the effort to put much malice into the words. Aincrad was... well, it was Aincrad. It was a bitch, on the best days. Occasionally, Lessa had those fleeting "wow, we're in a video game and this is all so magical" moments, but they came rarely these days. She might catch herself appreciating an especially pretty sunrise, or enjoying the smell of an approaching rainstorm, but she would much rather do so in the real world. There were far fewer things trying to kill her out there. Assuming she

In the romcoms Alyssa had inhaled before Aincrad, the gentleman was always offering his jacket to his date at the faintest sign of a shiver. It was romantic, really, that a man might give up his own comfort to take care of someone he cared about. In actuality? Well, it kind of just frustrated Lessa. Granted, these were different circumstances. Most of those movies hadn't featured gale force winds, torrential downpours, or creatures that had crawled straight from the bowels of Hell itself. Come to think of it, none of them had. Also, actuality didn't feature Matthew McConaughey or Hugh Grant, s

Lessa concedes!

She kept her arm around Jomei until he was standing upright again, and even then, let it linger a bit longer than perhaps was necessary. When she withdrew, stepping away to give the man his space, she gave a small nod. "Sure, alright, we'll stay." She hoped her voice held more conviction than her words. In truth, the idea of running away to greener pastures was incredibly appealing. She'd never considered herself a scary-cat, and she and Jomei had faced some pretty horrifying things together. But something about the twenty-ninth floor made her feel indescribably uneasy, and a warm drink by a c

Tavern Closed for Private Party "You know," Lessa began, studying the sign with her hands planted on her hips, "in the entire time I've known Alexander, I can't think of another time that he's closed the place down. He must have really taken to my post-tournament party idea. Orrrr he's going to charge me an outrageous rental fee." With a small whistle, Lessa tipped her head back to take in the White Rabbit's size. The multi-story building, with its tavern and adjoining inn, sat perched on one of the fourth floor's many snowy mountainsides. It was as enormous as it was beautiful, and in th

"That's my girl." Three little words, but they ripped through her with the force of a nuclear bomb. She finished the string of attacks she’d already lined up, letting momentum and muscle memory carry her through the familiar steps, but she felt the fight draining from her like water through a sieve. She didn’t want it. And as hard as she tried, as much bravado as she could muster, she simply couldn’t convince herself otherwise. A cold wind whipped between them, sending their cloaks flapping wildly, and setting a fine layer of snowflakes spiraling around their ankles. Her hair tumble

Lessa loosed a small hum of pleasure, aware of lazy stroking of his fingers against her armor. Though she couldn’t feel the touch of his skin through the layers of metal and leather, the simple fact that he was doing it at all warmed her to her core. She tore her eyes from his to watch his knuckles trail over her vambrace, strangely entranced and foolishly delighted by the sight. If only they could stay that way just a bit longer. As if reading her mind, Jomei’s words snapped Lessa’s gaze back to his. Her smile wavered, regret tugging at its edges until she sighed softly. “I’m not doing a

The way he stared up at her sent her already racing heart into overdrive. Suddenly more aware of the cold than ever, spikes of anxiety shot through her, dealing more damage than his weapon ever could have. Oh god. Oh god, I screwed up. Her breathing grew shallower, each exhale rasping past her chapped lips to hang on the frigid air in the narrow space between them. How could she have let herself act so rashly? How could she have misread him so badly? Or had she simply seen what it was she wanted to see there? Had she imagined it all? A million excuses raced through her mind, but they jumb

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ “I'm still disappointed I never got the opportunity to ask you to dance before the party got crashed." The statement was delivered with so much tenderness, and when her eyes found his, the wistful expression he wore sucked the air from her lungs. “Yeah,” she barely managed to whisper before pausing to draw a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m disappointed, too. I would have really liked that.” Had she known, that night on la Duchesse Sincère, that he’d wanted to dance with her? As friends, of course - he’d made that glaringly obvious in his invitation. At the time, she’d found it c

"No, not at all," she answered firmly, her tone slamming the door on any possible arguments. Despite the electricity that still hummed faintly between them, she reached out to place a strong, reassuring hand on his arm. "I don't fault you, okay?" She refused to continue speaking until he met and held her gaze, and she could see for herself that he believed her. Not that the Beast was an open book or anything, and it was possible some doubts or apprehensions lingered. But he seemed to relax a bit, allowing her to do the same. "If anything, I should be thanking you," she continued, withdraw

PH

With a high-pitched shriek, mixed parts alarm and childish glee, Lessa threw up both arms to block her face. The snow slammed into her crossed bracers like a wave against rocks, sending spray splattering across her exposed skin. She made to wipe it away, then remembered her gauntlets. Instead, she did her best to shake the droplets away in a way reminiscent of a wet dog. Only then did she notice the crimson gash in her side, and the sizeable chunk carved out of her health bar. She scowled at him, glaring out from under eyelashes heavy with snow crystals. The expression, of course, was absurdly