Lessa

She hoped they were getting along.

And by getting along, of course, she meant the bare minimum. They didn't have to hold hands, sing Kumbaya, and plan a life together. Honestly, the thought of that sent chills down Lessa's spine that had nothing to do with Floor 29. All she asked was that they not kill each other. And honestly, she couldn't be sure which she expected to throw the first punch. Oscar, she assumed, would be the one to throw the last one.

Thunder cracked overhead, and the suddenness of it snapped Lessa out of her thoughts. She stumbled, the toe of one boot catching on the heel of the other, and she was forced to throw her arms wide to keep from falling. "Damn it," she snarled into the rain. She was tired, and it was starting to catch up with her. 

One more, she promised herself. One more, and then I'll go home.

Whether or not it was a lie, she wasn't entirely sure yet.

Lessa receives:
8940 EXP (Word Count [4470/5*10])
1341 col (1 page [400] + 15% P5 Reward [1341])
1 Mon

Lilik receives:
1788 EXP (Word Count [4470/5*2])
1 Mon

Oscar receives:
8940 EXP (Word Count [4470/5*10])
1741 col (1 page [400] + 15% P5 Reward [1341])
1 Mon

Abellio receives:
1788 EXP (Word Count [4470/5*2])
1 Mon

"I know." The two words carried far more weight than they should have, and when her gaze found his, it was mixed parts pleading and grateful. She knew what she was asking him, and what it was costing both of them. But she asked anyway, and he came through. "I am really, really lucky. Thank you for doing this." She closed the space between them, placed her hand on his arm, and gave a quick squeeze. "I wouldn't ask if it weren't important, and because it is important, I'm asking someone I can trust."

Then she drew back, her expression growing slightly more guarded as she turned to Lilik. "Please be careful. And just listen to Oscar, okay?" Lessa glanced between her two friends, then added, "We'll sort through all of this when the sky stops falling."

With a quick wave, the blonde turned and jogged toward the coordinates Freyd had shared. This was likely a bad decision, and she'd pay for it later, but she couldn't let herself tumble down a rabbit hole. She didn't have the luxury of doubts, worries, or what-ifs. Not when letting her mind wander might lead to her death, or the death of those she loved.

Support Action - Rescue Lilik, arrange her protection.

"Damn it, Oscar, stop." Was her eye twitching? It felt like her eye was twitching.

Without thinking, Lessa physically placed herself between Lilik and Oscar, holding her arms out ala Chris Pratt in Jurassic World. She swore she could feel the electricity humming between them, a charge not unlike grabbing the electric fences that ran the length of her family's property. Gritting her teeth against the now pounding headache, Lessa couldn't help but snarl out the words. "I did not invite you here to lay hands on my friend, regardless of how badly we both know she deserves it."

"Let him," Lilik countered, crossing her arms across her chest and loosing a casual shrug. "It's not like I'll feel pain in the game. And he's not going to kill me."

Lessa's face warmed beneath the incessant sheets of cold rain. Whether from frustration, anger, or embarrassment for her friend, it was difficult to tell. Likely a mixture of all three, with a healthy dollop of exhaustion worked in. "Lilik, you stop, too. Do you think Rainy wants you out here putting yourself at risk? Putting others at risk?"

The nonchalance drained out of Lilik like water through a sieve. Suddenly, every muscle was drawn as tight as a bowstring. Her body, now all rigid lines and sharp angles, appeared far more deadly than her low level allowed. "Don't talk about Rainy." Her voice, now low and measured, carried a threat that the gleam in her eyes promised to carry out.

Overhearing Jomei's question for Morningstar, Lessa turned to face the pair. If the man was in need of healing, it was her job to step in. She was in the support role, after all. "What happened to- oh god." Her blue eyes bulged as she recognized the severed hand. "I, uh, whoa. Yeah, no." She stammered, then nervously reached up to wipe the rain from her face. The cold metal of her gauntlets shocked her, and didn't accomplish much, but she finished the motion anyway. Then she managed, "I haven't seen that yet. Which I guess is sort of surprising, considering we're all using swords." Her jaw worked as she stared at him. "I have to assume it'll grow back. The game covers stuff like that, so I bet it will."

Jomei was flagging, and even if she weren't an expert on his mannerisms, she'd be able to tell. She gently shoulder-bumped him. "We're okay," she told him. Or told them all. Or told herself. Perhaps everyone needed the reminder. "We're okay, and we're going to finish this. It can't go on forever."

It would end sooner, she realized, if she helped chip away at the remaining health bar. Sure, she was playing support, but she had a sword, didn't she? She wasn't helpless. So she left Jomei's side to launch an attack of her own, feeling the energy sing down her sword and up her arms as the blow landed.

As Players emerged from the shadows, she realized a party was beginning to form. Star, Freyd, Jom, Star, Acanthus. She mentally ticked each off as she picked them out from the other mud-caked forms staggering about in the dark. They looked as exhausted as she felt. We need a break, she thought, not for the first time. Or the second time. Or probably the fiftieth time. How long had they been out there, battling back the endless waves? It felt a bit like COD zombies, but she couldn't just turn off the game when she got bored. This time, giving up had dire consequences.

So she narrowed her eyes against the darkness and the rain, then lifted her sword. Now was as good a time as ever. "Damage boost," she called, without much enthusiasm, before activating Press the Attack. Everyone knew the routine by now - the same handful of soldiers had been holding the line for an eternity.

At Freyd's question, Lessa shook her head. Then, realizing he likely didn't see the gesture, she put voice to her thoughts. "I haven't heard anything, but I do know there are a bunch of people out looking for it. Hopefully they'll find something."

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 there were huge chunks of time where they were separated, and she worried about him more than she cared to admit. He was a skilled Frontliner, absolutely, and more than capable of taking care of himself. But he was also exhausted - as was she - and with exhaustion came mistakes.

Shoving that aside, she rocked onto her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. It didn't matter to her that it was caked in grime. Her lips probably were, too. "You looked like you could use a pick-me-up," she informed him, before blasting him with a wide, goofy smile. "Pick-me-up. Get it?" But the smile didn't reach her eyes, and it wavered after only a few seconds, before falling away completely. "When this is over," she stated, falling into step beside Jomei as the pair marched through the muck after Freyd, "I'm going to take an hour-long shower, then I'm going to sleep for five hundred years. Maybe not even in that order."

Lessa consumes Smokin' Hot Honey Bun Tray | ACC 2 | EVA 2 | Feast (3/6).

꧁༺Lessa༻꧂   Lessa, Guardian of Aincrad True Tier: 10 Level: 34 Paragon Level: 60 HP: 980/980 EN: 130/130 Stats: Damage: 18 Mitigation: 127 Accuracy: 2 Evasion: 2 Battle Healing: 29 Stealth Rating: -5 HB: 39 MENDING: 2 REC: 8 HLY: 8 Equipped Gear: Weapon/Armor/Trinket:    - Arcael's Might (T4 THSS - DMG DMG DMG HLY)                                                                                                         Armor/Trinket:    - Vega's Panoply (T4 HA - THNS THNS HB HB)                                                                                                              Shield/Armor/Trinket:    - Red Tide Beacon - Venus (T4 TRINKET - LM LM REC REC) Combat Mastery:   - Combat Mastery: Mitigation R3 Combat Shift:   - ST Shift Familiar Skill:   - Rending Familiar Skills:   - Battle Healing R3   - Energist   - Extended Weight Limit   - Heavy Armor R5   - Straight Sword R3 Extra Skills:   - First Aid R5   - Leadership R5 Addons:   - Field Medic   - Hyperactive   - Iron Skin Mods:   - Barrier   - Energize   - Inspiring Speech   - Large Pockets   - Press the Attack Battle Ready Inventory:   - Blessing of the Wood x4   - Chocolate Truffles (T4 Vitality II Desserts) x13   - Congealing Ale (Tierless Antidote Salves) x4   - March to the Dawn (Instant HP Recovery 3) x14   - Rumbling Rum Party Favor (Tierless Mass HP Recovery Crystals) x13   - Teleportation Crystal x14   - Tiger's Balm (Tierless Antidote Salves) x1 Housing Buffs:   - Bedroom: -1 energy cost for the first two expenditures of each combat   - Bathroom: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 20% (rounded down)   - Living Room: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.   - Attic (Storage): +5% bonus col from monster kills and treasure chests   - Slime Farm: +5% EXP to a thread. Limit one use per month. Must be used on a player's first post in a thread. Cooldown begins counting down when used in a post.   - Basement: Gain +1 to LD, Stealth Rating, Stealth Detection, or Prosperity to one post in a thread. Can be applied after a roll Crafting Profession:  - Blacksmith[465exp] R6 Gathering Profession:  - Forager[0exp] R1

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's Spidey senses back in the real world. "And I'm..." She laid both hands on her chest. "You know?" He probably didn't. She wasn't entirely sure she knew. So she drew a long breath, blew it out, and started again.

"I don't hate myself or anything, it's not one of those things. I'm not going to be all 'look at him, I don't deserve him' or whatever. Because it's not that. Or not really." Wow, did she have a way with words. So eloquent. "It's just yeah, you're right. I don't want to fuck this up." She dropped her hands in her lap, pausing to run her damp palms across her pants. The evening was cool, and the breeze that sent leaves skittering across the cobblestones was downright chilly, but she was all sorts of flushed. And this time, it wasn't because of Oscar.

"You know my history with men here," she stated finally. "Alkor, then Daeron..." And Bahr, though she let the unspoken word hang between them. There was no need to bring it up again - she knew it was implied. "Hell, I even had something with this incredible woman not long after we got trapped here, but she vanished on me." She slanted him a quick look, something devilish sparking in her blue eyes. "There was a hot tub. It was exactly what you're picturing." But the humor drained from her just as quickly as it had appeared, and she tipped back to study the stars once more. "The common theme here is that they all ended badly. And in the few cases where we could go back to being friends, it just... hasn't felt right."

She sighed. "I know it's the stupidest, most cliché high-school shit ever. If I were watching the rom-com of my own life right now, I'd probably ask for a refund. But I don't want to risk it with Jom. He's too important to me. And shit, I'd rather him pack up and drive away than be forced to see him all over, knowing I tried and it didn't... we didn't..."

Pivoting on the edge of the fountain, Lessa slammed her forehead into Oscar's shoulder. "Yup," she mumbled against the rough fabric of his shirt. "100% bitchmade."

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, he was pissed. At least he was directing it solely toward Lilik for the time being. So she shut her mouth again, not entirely unlike a fish gasping for air on the end of a line. She was certainly wet enough to warrant a fish comparison.

Lessa hooked her fingers in her crisscrossed belts, itching to go, but also recognizing that she had to ensure Lilik's safety before she went. The raid party could hold out for a couple extra minutes - Lilik, on the other hand, could not be trusted not to do something stupid.

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 that was such a wonder to her.

As if responding to her thoughts, Freyd's bellow carried between cracks of thunder. You. Cannot. Win. Okay, so yeah, maybe he warranted a bit more respect than she had initially given him.

From her position a few paces away, the lights from their Sword Arts, blurred by the falling rain, looked like something from a music festival. The most morbid rave I've ever seen, she found herself thinking, as a pretty blonde raked her blade across the glass surface with an ear-piercing screech. Nails on a chalkboard. Lessa winced, then relaxed fractionally as the creature exploded. One down... how many more to go?

The Player who had dealt the final blow offered an escort, and Lessa lifted a hand to accept. "I'll take you up on that," she called. "I think I need a 20 minute powernap somewhere warm and dry, and then I'll jump back into it." If I don't, I may start making some costly mistakes.

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 would not help the cause by careening down the hill like a snowball in some Loony Toons skit.

When she finally reached the bottom, slotted herself beside a tall, grey-haired man. Freyd, she noted, her brows lifting with surprise. She'd spent countless hours on the twenty ninth floor, and it seemed that they Player was everywhere she looked. The tireless commitment to helping their cause clashed with the persona she'd assigned him, and without intending to, the blonde found herself looking him up and down. She might have to reevaluate her opinion of him. Maybe when she wasn't so busy.

There was, at least, one thing she could do.

"Got another damage boost for you," she announced, slashing her weapon in a wide arc, and scattering the closest players in vibrant blue drops of light. "Make the best of it."

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 huffed as she hoofed it across the hellscape, her heavy armor clanking, her boots making disgusting splooshing sounds with each step. If someone had told her "hey, you'll have to do a lot of running in Aincrad," she probably wouldn't have put on the headset. Imagine that - crisis averted, thanks to an aversion to physical activity.

To distract herself, Lessa called up her messenger with a practiced flick of her wrist. Though her strides slowed to something like a lope (she wasn't that coordinated), she didn't stop moving as she hammered out a quick message to Oscar.

Quote

To: Oscar

I owe you big time. 

- Lessa

Given their friendship, she normally would have followed up with some pointed message about the limitations of her offered favor. Her heart just wasn't in it. Maybe once they finally got the Knights under control, or once she managed to dry out completely. She was beginning to wonder if either were actually possible.

The sight that lay before her did nothing to lighten the mood. As Kineallen came into view, Lessa counted only a handful of Players battling back the seemingly endless stream of horrors. "Shit," she snarled under her breath. Where was everyone else? Were they the only ones willing to fight anymore? Or were they all that was left?

Lessa consumes Smokin' Hot Honey Bun Tray | ACC 2 | EVA 2 | Feast (1/6).

꧁༺Lessa༻꧂   Lessa, Guardian of Aincrad True Tier: 10 Level: 34 Paragon Level: 60 HP: 980/980 EN: 130/130 Stats: Damage: 18 Mitigation: 127 Accuracy: 2 Evasion: 2 Battle Healing: 29 Stealth Rating: -5 HB: 39 MENDING: 2 REC: 8 HLY: 8 Equipped Gear: Weapon/Armor/Trinket:    - Arcael's Might (T4 THSS - DMG DMG DMG HLY)                                                                                                         Armor/Trinket:    - Vega's Panoply (T4 HA - THNS THNS HB HB)                                                                                                              Shield/Armor/Trinket:    - Red Tide Beacon - Venus (T4 TRINKET - LM LM REC REC) Combat Mastery:   - Combat Mastery: Mitigation R3 Combat Shift:   - ST Shift Familiar Skill:   - Rending Familiar Skills:   - Battle Healing R3   - Energist   - Extended Weight Limit   - Heavy Armor R5   - Straight Sword R3 Extra Skills:   - First Aid R5   - Leadership R5 Addons:   - Field Medic   - Hyperactive   - Iron Skin Mods:   - Barrier   - Energize   - Inspiring Speech   - Large Pockets   - Press the Attack Battle Ready Inventory:   - Blessing of the Wood x4   - Chocolate Truffles (T4 Vitality II Desserts) x13   - Congealing Ale (Tierless Antidote Salves) x4   - March to the Dawn (Instant HP Recovery 3) x14   - Rumbling Rum Party Favor (Tierless Mass HP Recovery Crystals) x13   - Teleportation Crystal x14   - Tiger's Balm (Tierless Antidote Salves) x1 Housing Buffs:   - Bedroom: -1 energy cost for the first two expenditures of each combat   - Bathroom: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 20% (rounded down)   - Living Room: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.   - Attic (Storage): +5% bonus col from monster kills and treasure chests   - Slime Farm: +5% EXP to a thread. Limit one use per month. Must be used on a player's first post in a thread. Cooldown begins counting down when used in a post.   - Basement: Gain +1 to LD, Stealth Rating, Stealth Detection, or Prosperity to one post in a thread. Can be applied after a roll Crafting Profession:  - Blacksmith[465exp] R6 Gathering Profession:  - Forager[0exp] R1

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... somethings... as they skittered across the underbrush. All the normal sounds in a normal forest - surely, at least some of them had to be present. But the clink of the rain against her heavy armor, and the whoosh of it smacking the leaves, and the hum of it in the air... it filled her ears. It consumed her. It made every other thing irrelevant.

Until the ping of a new notification sliced through the din.

"Shit," Lessa spluttered, nearly dropping her sword in surprise. She took two quick breaths, a pathetic attempt to calm her racing heart, before calling up the message. Apparently, Freyd had found yet another Spectral Knight, this one near Kineallen. He was calling for aid, and since her search hadn't turned up anything, she might as well answer his summon. Dismissing the window with a flick of her wrist, Lessa turned, and came face to face with something truly horrifying.

꧁༺Lessa༻꧂   Lessa, Guardian of Aincrad True Tier: 10 Level: 34 Paragon Level: 60 HP: 980/980 EN: 130/130 Stats: Damage: 18 Mitigation: 127 Battle Healing: 29 Stealth Rating: -5 HB: 39 MENDING: 2 REC: 8 HLY: 8 Equipped Gear: Weapon/Armor/Trinket:    - Arcael's Might (T4 THSS - DMG DMG DMG HLY)                                                                                                         Armor/Trinket:    - Vega's Panoply (T4 HA - THNS THNS HB HB)                                                                                                              Shield/Armor/Trinket:    - Red Tide Beacon - Venus (T4 TRINKET - LM LM REC REC) Combat Mastery:   - Combat Mastery: Mitigation R3 Combat Shift:   - ST Shift Familiar Skill:   - Rending Familiar Skills:   - Battle Healing R3   - Energist   - Extended Weight Limit   - Heavy Armor R5   - Straight Sword R3 Extra Skills:   - First Aid R5   - Leadership R5 Addons:   - Field Medic   - Hyperactive   - Iron Skin Mods:   - Barrier   - Energize   - Inspiring Speech   - Large Pockets   - Press the Attack Battle Ready Inventory:   - Blessing of the Wood x4   - Chocolate Truffles (T4 Vitality II Desserts) x13   - Congealing Ale (Tierless Antidote Salves) x4   - March to the Dawn (Instant HP Recovery 3) x14   - Rumbling Rum Party Favor (Tierless Mass HP Recovery Crystals) x13   - Teleportation Crystal x14   - Tiger's Balm (Tierless Antidote Salves) x1 Housing Buffs:   - Bedroom: -1 energy cost for the first two expenditures of each combat   - Bathroom: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 20% (rounded down)   - Living Room: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.   - Attic (Storage): +5% bonus col from monster kills and treasure chests   - Slime Farm: +5% EXP to a thread. Limit one use per month. Must be used on a player's first post in a thread. Cooldown begins counting down when used in a post.   - Basement: Gain +1 to LD, Stealth Rating, Stealth Detection, or Prosperity to one post in a thread. Can be applied after a roll Crafting Profession:  - Blacksmith[465exp] R6 Gathering Profession:  - Forager[0exp] R1

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 warning, she grabbed him by the shoulders, whipping him around so that he mirrored her position. Slotting her knees between his, she leaned forward, giving his upper body a shake with each word she repeated. "Are. You. Kidding. Me." By the time the last syllable her lips, they were only inches from his. She marveled, for just a heartbeat, at the way that plum wine and cinnamon vodka tasted as they mingled in the space between them. 

Her eyes found his, and when she didn't find laughter there, some of the fire drained from her. "Are you kidding me?" she asked a third time, her voice a mere whisper. Her grip on his arms loosened, but her hands remained there, because in that moment, she needed that physical tie to him. Emotion swamped her, tears pressing on the back of her eyes, and settling like a weight on her chest. She drew a shaky breath, an unsuccessful attempt to collect herself before she barreled forward. "Jomei, what do you mean, what makes you so special? You already know how special you are."

Her eyes narrowed, growing watery even as she appraised him. "You're the sweetest, and the bravest, and the funniest, and you're the person I trust the most. You're so good under pressure. You always know what to do. And you're always here for me. I don't always deserve it, or you, but you're still here, picking me up. You've always been here. You've never left me. You're more special to me than anyone else." Her thumbs were stroking nervous circles into his wet clothes, but she hardly noticed as the words spilled from her lips like beer from a tap. Was it the alcohol? Surely she would have told him all of this, even if she'd been sober.

"And you look so good in green."

Okay, no, maybe she was just drunk.

That didn't mean she didn't mean it.

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. With each crescendo, another strike landed, sword arts firing in an array of different colors. It was eerily beautiful, refracted by the raindrops, and reflected off the glassy surface of the Spectral Knight.

Then the colors faded, the action dying away as each of her comrades fell back to breathe. It was only a split second, but Lessa recognized the pause for what it was - her opening. An opportunity for her to finally deal some damage. How long had it been since she had had the opportunity to do so? The switch to a support build had robbed her of those moments, but if the universe was offering...

Without waiting for a formal invitation, Lessa leaped forward, pumping power into her blade. Though her attack didn't deal nearly as much damage as those that had come before, she still had the immense satisfaction of watching the Knight burst into pixels.

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 some of the strongest Players that Aincrad had to offer. There was comfort in that knowledge, and her blue gaze flicked to the Spectral Knight's health bar. She assumed after a few solid hits by these pro gamers, it would be nearly gone, like everything else in the castle. But the trio hadn't even managed to carve out a third of the horror's HP. This isn't like a field boss or something, is it? she found herself asking. Because it is a lot beefier than most of the trash mobs we've come across. Apparently, the floor still wasn't out of surprises.

"I'm going to hit you guys with a quick damage buff," she called out, lifting her sword to chest height, and leveling it toward the nearest Player. "Sorry, I probably should have led with it, but I didn't expect this thing to survive more than one or two hits." 

Arcael's Might began to glow in her gauntlet-clad hand, the blue light appearing sickly against the dark rain and thick fog. After a few seconds, she pivoted, bringing the blade around in an arc. Tiny bits of light, like luminescent raindrops, splattered across her gathered party mates. "That should do the trick for a few minutes. Get as much out of it as you can."

"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? Demon spawn? “-thing.” The hand not clutching her sword gestured in the direction she’d just come from. “I saw it chasing after that group of Players, and wanted to make sure it didn’t jump them.” She doubled over, elbows propped on her knees, and drew a few deep breaths. “Motherfuckers are fast,” she wheezed from behind a curtain of wet hair.

Only once she’d straightened again did Lessa notice that their party had grown - now Baldur,  Acanthus, and Morningstar joined their small group. Though she didn’t know the latter two very well, she appreciated the help that strong Players would provide. Baldur, as he always did, drew a megawatt smile from her.

“Hey old man,” she greeted warmly. Then she added, entirely oblivious to the pun, “When did you drop in?” 

To Acanthus and Morningstar, she offered a slightly less blinding grin. “Good to have you both along, too. This is such a cluster, and the sooner we can take care of it, the better. It’s all hands on deck.”

As she spoke the words, Lessa slanted a look toward Freyd. It would have to be, for her to be partnering with him. Their last interaction had painted a picture of a conceited asshole, and she hadn’t given him the opportunity to prove that first impression wrong. But desperate times, and all that.

“I’ve got your backs,” she told the newly formed party. “You may have heard that the Jomei/Lessa tank/support duo is a pretty solid one.” Finally, she looked to her favorite redhead. “I’m happy to report that it is one hundred percent true.”

Lessa Consumes:
Gungir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Smokin' Hot Honey Bun Tray | ACC 2 | EVA 2 | Feast (2/6)

Lessa | HP: 980/980 | EN: 130/130 | DMG: 18 | MIT:127 | ACC:2 | EVA:2 | THORNS:72 | BH:29 | HB: 39 | MENDING: 2 | REC: 8 | HLY: 8                                                                                                                            

꧁༺Lessa༻꧂   Lessa, Guardian of Aincrad Tier: 10 Level: 34 Paragon Level: 60 HP: 980/980 EN: 130/130 Stats: Damage: 18 Mitigation: 127 Accuracy: 2 Evasion: 2 Battle Healing: 29 Stealth Rating: -5 HB: 39 MENDING: 2 REC: 8 HLY: 8 Equipped Gear: Weapon/Armor/Trinket:    - Arcael's Might (T4 THSS - DMG DMG DMG HLY)                                                                                                         Armor/Trinket:    - Vega's Panoply (T4 HA - THNS THNS HB HB)                                                                                                              Shield/Armor/Trinket:    - Red Tide Beacon - Venus (T4 TRINKET - LM LM REC REC) Combat Mastery:   - Combat Mastery: Mitigation R3 Combat Shift:   - ST Shift Familiar Skill:   - Rending Familiar Skills:   - Battle Healing R3   - Energist   - Extended Weight Limit   - Heavy Armor R5   - Straight Sword R3 Extra Skills:   - First Aid R5   - Leadership R5 Addons:   - Hyperactive   - Iron Skin Mods:   - Impetus   - Energize   - Inspiring Speech   - Large Pockets   - Press the Attack Battle Ready Inventory:   - Blessing of the Wood x4   - Chocolate Truffles (T4 Vitality II Desserts) x13   - Congealing Ale (Tierless Antidote Salves) x4   - March to the Dawn (Instant HP Recovery 3) x14   - Rumbling Rum Party Favor (Tierless Mass HP Recovery Crystals) x13   - Teleportation Crystal x14   - Tiger's Balm (Tierless Antidote Salves) x1 Housing Buffs:   - Bedroom: -1 energy cost for the first two expenditures of each combat   - Bathroom: The first time you would suffer DoT damage in a thread, reduce damage taken from DoT each turn by 20% (rounded down)   - Living Room: Increases out of combatHP regen by (5 * Tier HP) and decreases full energy regen to 2 Out of Combat Posts.   - Attic (Storage): +5% bonus col from monster kills and treasure chests   - Slime Farm: +5% EXP to a thread. Limit one use per month. Must be used on a player's first post in a thread. Cooldown begins counting down when used in a post.   - Basement: Gain +1 to LD, Stealth Rating, Stealth Detection, or Prosperity to one post in a thread. Can be applied after a roll Crafting Profession:  - Blacksmith[465exp] R6 Gathering Profession:  - Forager[0exp] R1

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 expletives, highlighting all the places the game designers could shove their little Lovecraftian horrors? Nothing good could come from breaking.

Yet as they unloaded the cargo in silence, the only sound between the uncomfortable squelching of waterlogged gear, she found herself ruminating. Jomei wasn't the first to give her this talk, encouraging her to lighten her load, and let someone else take over for a while. Hell, even before Aincrad, Alyssa had struggled with taking on more than her fair share. But Alyssa had never unloaded barrels of alcohol in a haunted bar, soaking wet, only hours after fighting waves of horrific monsters and a rabid bear. Alyssa had never been forced to raise a sword in defense of the ones she loved, and the life she left behind.

Alyssa had never met Jomei.

The window populating in front of her face tore Lessa back to the present. "Oh," she muttered dumbly, reading over the words before glancing toward the bar, then Jomei. "Uh, yeah, no, definitely not a good idea." 

Despite her words, some unseen force tugged her gently toward the battered bar-top, not unlike how she’d been drawn back to H.P.’s at the beginning of the quest. Her movement’s mirrored Jomei’s, her cold, damp fingers closing around the glass. There was dirt on the glass, but she noted the issue in the same way she felt the dentist’s drill while on nitrous oxide - it was concerning, but not especially urgent. Even thoughts of Jomei, which had buried themselves deep, fled as she lifted the rim to her lips. She caught the faintest whiff of cinnamon, then downed the entire thing.

Then loosed a loud, barking cough, slapping the glass down before pounding her own chest with a closed fist. “Jesus,” she drawled, shaking her head. “That was strong. Good, but strong.” She studied her empty cup for a beat, then added, “Tastes just like skiing with my family. My mom had these ski poles, and you could unscrew the handles, and fill them with alcohol. She always went with Fireball. That was whiskey, and this is definitely vodka, but the cinnamon is the same.” Lessa pursed her lips, then slanted Jomei a look. “And so is the kick.”

When she turned her attention back to the bar, surprise had her nearly toppling off her barstool. Amber liquid once more filled the glass, abnormally bright in the room’s dim lighting. “Speedy service,” she quipped, even as she found herself leaning slightly closer to her companion.

By the time she finished her second round of cinnamon vodka, her shoulder was pressed flush against his. “You know,” she began suddenly, “what you said earlier? About me taking a break, and cutting myself some slack? You are nooooooot the first person to tell me to do that.” Did she put unnecessary emphasis on the word ‘not?’ That was an odd choice. “But I think you might be the first person I actually listen to.”

243699 | CD: 11

"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 didn't venture to Australia, at least. Maybe Aincrad was safer than reality for the Aussies.

The sudden lurching of the cart tore Lessa from her thoughts, and she nearly tripped as a wheel struck a half-buried rock. The whip-crack sound of snapping wood carried from the opposite side of the cart, and a grimace darkened her already shadowy expression. "What fresh new hell..." she muttered to herself, easing her way around the front of the shipment to get a better look. The front of the wagon tipped precariously to one side, its contents leaning, seeming to peer precariously over the edge. If all of that tips and spills, I'm rage-quitting, she found herself thinking, even as she squatted to examine the damage. The wheel, from what she could see in the dim light, had come clean off. But it wasn't broken, fortunately, and it just took a bit of grunting and groaning to brute-force it back on. In the midst of her final shove, Lessa swore she heard a giggle just over her right shoulder. Jomei, finding new humor in their situation? No, the sound was far too high-pitched. More like a five year-old girl than a young man.

And that thought set her to trembling so violently that she nearly lost her footing as they returned to the road. I'm not going to turn around, she decided. Because I'll either find something truly horrifying, or I'll find nothing at all, and I'm not sure which one is freakier. She'd rather shove her metaphorical head in the metaphorical sand.

Wrapping her arms around herself in an attempt to control the shakes, she blew out a hard breath. "The truth?" she asked him. At his go-ahead, she said, "I am really, really fucked up. Monumentally. There's nothing about this that is okay." The echo of those childish giggles reverberated in her ears, and she gritted her teeth to stop the whimper from escaping. "At first, I thought this floor was really cool. I love storms, and I love monster movies, and I thought, 'hey, look how cool and unique this is'! But I am so, so out of my element here. Nothing makes sense, and I don't know what's coming, and, and-." Her voice trailed as her teeth began to chatter helplessly. "I'm sure its exhaustion," she finally forced out, even as her body rebelled against absolutely everything. "We've been going non-stop for ages. I need a warm blanket, and some food, and a bed to sleep in, yeah, for three straight days." 

She hugged herself tighter as they walked, side by side, through hell. "I wish I could play it cool, but I can't. Not with you." The smile she offered him held no warmth or joy - only an overwhelming, bottomless sadness. "I am at my limit, Jom. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on being cavalier about all this. I have no idea if I have anymore brave left in me."

Before that statement could sour the space between them, Lessa nodded further up the road, where the lights of H.P's burned. "At least it's almost over."

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, so it sucked sideways. Anyway, when Jomei gave her that concerned look, and immediately began fiddling with his cloak, she immediately knew his intentions. "No," she said, even as he told her off for arguing. She put both hands up, palms pointed toward him in the universal gesture for "hold your damn horses for just one minute", but he didn't. Instead, he closed the distance between them in one long stride, and in a swirl of water-logged emerald, draped the cloak over her shoulders. Flicking his wrist, he brought the hood up over her hair. She glared at him from beneath the fabric, though given the size and fit of the hood, she looked a bit like a petulant child playing dress-up with her parents things. "I'm not great at math," she told him, "but I do know enough to recognize that I now have two cloaks, and you have none." He ignored her, content to simply comment on their need to move the barrels. Which was true, but she couldn't stop herself from calling out, "Green isn't even my color!" Especially given the way it clashed with the red adorning her cheeks.

With a huff, she fell into position next to him. It only took a matter of moments for her to lose herself completely in the physical work, all annoyance (or, uh, secret pleasure) she gleaned from Jomei's sacrifice already forgotten. "You thinking we try the big nets, then?" she asked, following his gaze once they'd finally reached the main deck. It was a solid plan, and she didn't really see many other options. The flash of light and crack of splintering wood caught them both by surprise. Lessa was yanked off her feet, and movement in her peripheral vision told her Jomei met the same fate. A ringing in her ears and pounding in her head left her temporarily dazed, and she blinked rapidly in an attempt to reorient herself. Her companion's "Shit!" finally broke through the disorientation, and she focused on bringing herself closer to the source of the sound. By the time she found her feet again, he was already pulling away from her, shouting about being stern.

"The back, the back of the ship!"

Oh, that made more sense.

Still a bit dizzy, Lessa forced one foot in front of the other, loping after him as the fire raged at her back. She felt the heat of it, even through her two cloaks, and the wet cloth steamed uncomfortably as the storm did nothing to douse the flames. Jomei told her to load the rowboat, and she dutifully obliged, slowly piecing together what it was he intended to do. Once their cargo was secure, she took his hand, and allowed him to guide her aboard. It swung back and forth in the wind, hinges screaming in protest, and Lessa gritted her teeth against the spike of fear that nearly rendered her completely immobile. They were so high up, balanced on a little piece of wood, held up by teeny bits of rope. She knew better, but instinct had her glancing down, and she'd have sworn the black water beneath the boat swirled like something out of a horror movie. "Have you ever seen the Road to El Dorado?" she began rambling. "The old Dreamworks Movie, with Miguel and Tulio? It's my favorite animated movie of all time. They steal a rowboat too. It doesn't go well for them. They-"

She was prepared to keep going, babbling like a brook while Jomei fiddled with the pulley system, but it became immediately apparent when something went wrong. "Oh god," Lessa howled, "I jinxed it. I fucking jinxed it." With an incredibly unpleasant squelching sound, she dropped her head into her hands. 

"Do you trust me?" 

The question lifted her face back to his again. And the answer came without a second's thought.

"Yeah."

"You probably shouldn't."

"Why do you s-""Hold on to something!" 

There were barrels. There were crates. There was the rope they'd used to secure it all. There was the side of the rowboat. Hell, she could have even shoved her fingers through the little eye-hook that probably held the oars. There were a dozen things that Lessa could have held onto. Instead, she stood there dumbly as Jomei, Swashbuckler of the Seven Seas, drew his sword and sliced the rope. Their getaway vehicle lurched to one side, sending her careening into him in a tangle of arms, legs, and cloaks. She wasn't sure what she said as they fell. She wasn't sure it was intelligible. She wasn't even sure it was human. But some sound came out of her as she crashed into Jomei, and as her fingers found purchase in the lose fabric around his torso, she found something to hold onto. And she held on for dear life. Only after they'd been safely afloat for a solid minute did Lessa lift her head from his chest with a murmured, "Sorry. I really hate heights. And falling. And just, all of it. I hated all of it."

Finally, she peeled herself off of him. Then her eyes widened as she stared at something over his shoulder. "Jomei," she breathed. "The ship. It's gone."

She wasn't sure which unnerved her most - the fall, or the ship's sudden disappearance - but she continued to tremble as they dragged their goods ashore, then loaded them onto the cart that stood waiting for their return. It wasn't easy work, by any means, but after all the excitement of the previous hour, Lessa didn't mind the straightforward task. And true to her word, she allowed Jomei to tug the cart back toward the inn.

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 cozy fire sounded like a much better alternative. He was right though - they really should see this through. Plus, she'd been the one to ask him for help, so it wouldn't do for her to call it off. "As long as you're sure you're okay," she added. Because she didn't have any desire to go forward with their little adventure if he wasn't.

"I'd rather not split up, either," she continued, wrapping her arms tightly across her chest. Though the ship provided shelter from the storm, the air in the hold still held a chill, and she wondered if her entire body hadn't transformed into one giant goosebump. "Plus, I get the feeling we're in the right place. I can't think of anywhere else the shipment would be, unless the game really wanted to fuck with us." A pause, and then, "Andddd based on how this floor is going, that's not completely out of the question. But I'm choosing to stay positive."

At her companion's request, she answered, "No problem." Then, twining her fingers together, she created a sort of step with her joined hands. Bending at the waist, she positioned her makeshift stool near Jomei's knees. After a lifetime of giving people boosts into haylofts and truck beds, and onto the backs of horses, the gesture was second nature. Once he'd retrieved the lantern, dismounted, and lifted the light between them, she mirrored his smile. "Good thinking," she complimented, immediately turning to the barrels now illuminated in a small circle around them. As her fingertips played across the rough wood, something new caught her attention. "Hey, Jom, look at this." Scooching over, she allowed him space to crouch beside her. Then she pointed. "These barrels have numbers. Looks like six digits? I'm pretty sure the manifest we picked up had numbers with each line." Her lips pursed in thought, then her gaze flitted to another stack of barrels a few paces off. "And yeah, see? Those one's don't have any numbers. I'm willing to bet if we can track down all of the barrels and crates with numbers, they'll match up, and we'll have what we need!" Her smile wobbled, and she added, "Probably. Maybe. I don't know if it's going to be that easy. But still staying positive!"

Fortunately, her theory proved to be correct. In less than fifteen minutes, Lessa and Jomei had located two barrels and seven crates of various sizes. After wrestling them out of the storage room and down the narrow hall, they'd made a stack at the foot of the stairs leading to the upper deck. That was where Lessa stood, her fists on her hips, looking between their gathered loot to the howling storm, then back again. "This," she whined, "is going to suck."

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 the real world, people would have shelled out small fortunes to host events there. Good thing she had an in with the owner. Probably. Maybe.

She tossed a look over her shoulder at Jomei, then gave a small shrug. "I guess we won't know until we ask, huh?" Then she shoved open the heavy door, her fingers instinctively tracing the tiny carved rabbits that adorned the wood. This was a theme that continued throughout the entire building, and she'd spent many hours with Wren, attempting to locate all of the hidden bunnies. They were stitched into blankets, woven into tapestries, and even worked into the metal chandeliers that hung overhead. Lessa found them impossibly charming, especially given how dramatically they clashed with the enormous NPC who ran the place.

The man in question glanced up from his polishing as she and Jomei entered on a swirl of cold air and snowflakes. His stone-etched expression revealed nothing, but there may have been the faintest hint of amusement in his voice when he addressed Lessa. "Just you two? So I guess you brought all your friends."

"Har har," Lessa countered, clambering atop the barstool. "Everyone else should be here soon." She'd long-since dismissed her battle attire, opting for the far more comfortable black leggings and navy sweatshirt. There was no point in dressing up for Alexander and his family - they'd seen her at rock-bottom, in an oversized shirt with a horse on it, covered in cider stains, and unwashed for a week straight. And Jomei? Well, if he couldn't handle her in her hoodie, he didn't deserve her in her formal dress. Whenever she got that out again. Hopefully not too soon.

"Is this the guy?" came a sudden voice from beside Lessa. She turned to find Wren sitting there, peering curiously around her toward where Jomei sat.

Feeling the warmth of a blush, Lessa answered shyly, "Uh, yes."

"Niiiiiiiiice."

OP Information

"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 tumbled into her face, then blasted back from it again, but Lessa made no move to corral the mess as she stared at him. Her lips tingled with the memory of their second kiss, and damn it if it hadn’t been way, way too quick for her liking.

Memorable? He’d said their fight would be memorable, and she wondered if that might be the understatement of the century. Did he know how much she hated duels? How her history had made them synonymous with bad feelings and discomfort? Could he possibly have any idea how much this fight meant to her? And it didn’t matter if she won. It didn’t matter if the fight even came to any sort of a conclusion. She would always remember this fight.

”It doesn’t matter,” she heard herself say. “All of the people watching. What they want. It- it doesn’t matter. Not really.” Her shoulders straightened, newfound resolve racing up her spine as she adjusted her hold on her sword. She’d made up her mind. “We’re people pleasers, you’re right about that. And that’s something that we’re going to have to work on. We need to remember to put ourselves first, sometimes. We-“

Her words trailed as she took him in for the millionth time, just savoring the look of him. The fire of his hair, the smirk of his lips, and the way they’d moved to form the word “lass” that day on the ninth floor. The memory of his lips on hers. The simple notion that she could have it again, whenever she wanted.

”Fuck it.”

She closed the distance between them in three long strides, not slowing as she tossed Arcael’s Might into the snow. “I concede!” The words were barely out of her mouth before her hands were on his cheeks again, and then her lips were on his, and that was what she wanted. He was what she wanted. And it felt so unbelievably good to finally dive head-first into that knowledge.

“I know this is really, really bad timing,” she said against his lips, unable to stop herself from grinning. “But would you want to go get dinner with me sometime?”

Lessa concedes.

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 very good job of hiding it, am I?” she asked him. “To be honest, I didn’t really want to fight you to begin with. The idea of hurting you, even in a duel, just didn’t sit right. This definitely hasn’t made things any easier.”

He spoke again, his voice taking on a devilish edge, and every muscle in her body tightened at once. “Uh, yeah, you’re right,” she mumbled, wondering if he’d kiss her again, and then berating herself for being so damned disappointed when he didn’t. For the second time, the pair climbed out of the snow, then moved to opposite sides of the arena. She wasn’t any happier about it this go-around.

A familiar voice from the crowd rose above the cheers, and Lessa spun around to follow the sound. Given his massive size, and position in the front row, it didn’t take long to pick Oscar out of the bunch. The grin he wore was practically maniacal, and once he knew he had Lessa’s attention, he jabbed an accusing finger at her. “When I kissed you, you stabbed me through the dick,” he shouted. With a wave of his enormous hand, he gestured toward where Jomei waited. “So get a move on!”

His mere presence, and the sheer absurdity of his comment, drew a bark of laughter from her. “I’m not going to stab him through the dick,” she called back.

“I’m just saying,” he countered, “don’t go all lovey and shit. I paid for a show.”

“So you want me to grab him by the throat, throw him on the ground, and straddle him?”

The glee in Oscar’s words was palpable. “Oh my god, would you please?”

In one smooth movement, she turned her back on him and flipped him the bird, letting his riotous laughter wash over her as she donned a grin of her own. Maybe entertaining the masses wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As they moved back into their familiar dance, Lessa found the steps easier to follow this time. Something about Oscar being there, front and center, gave her a burst of energy she hadn’t realized she’d lacked. They crashed into each other again, sparks flying, metal hissing, and she didn’t manage to slip away unscathed. But rather than looking at her health bar to examine the damage, her gaze flicked toward where Oscar stood in the crowd. “I don’t know,” she admitted truthfully, finally answering Jomei’s question. “I think maybe a while? But I guess I only just admitted it to myself.” She feigned a step behind him, anticipating his jump out of the way, and managing to land a quick blow of her own.

“It probably isn’t,” came her acknowledgement, but then she laughed. “But most people would say a duel isn’t the best time for a first kiss, either. We’ve never done things the traditional way.”

// Main Action
-> Recovery | +6 BH, +8 HB, +1 EN
-> ST-I | 243549 | BD:6 | 10*8=80-22+16=74*.75=55 (-5 EN) (-4 HP)

// Swift Action
->Focus | +1 BD | -2 EN

Lessa | HP: 46/200 | EN: 49/59 | DMG: 10 | MIT: 46 | ACC: 3 2 | THORNS: 18 | BH: 6 | HB: 8 | REC: 2 | HLY: 2 | Frost.A: 2 | Frost.T: 2 (4/2) | VULN: 16 | Warm  

Jomei | HP: 55/200 | EN: 38/59 | DMG: 10 | MIT: 22 | ACC: 3 | AA  | F-SPIRIT | EVA : 2 | BH :7 | HB: 4 | FLN: 4 | HLY: 2 |[ Frost.A 2 | Frost.T 2 (4/2) | VULN 16 ]| Warm | Charge (1/3) | Counter -25%