Lessa

In an instant, shock replaced the coy amusement she'd worn for the entirety of the fight. She'd let her guard down - that had been her first mistake. Looking into Oscar's eyes had been the second. That attacks she'd just used, where she drew him close just to run him through? She'd borrowed that from another swordsman. Of course, he had used it on her, in a demonstration that had shaken her to her very core. It had left her wondering who he was. Who she was. Who she was to him. He'd grabbed for her throat once, too, straddling her hips as he pinned her to the ground. "So fragile," h

The woman huffed out a breath, and though she rolled her eyes, they held no real annoyance. "That was your first mistake," she informed him, reaching back to drag her mop of blonde hair over one shoulder, exposing her sweaty neck to the cool breeze drifting across the meadow. Even in the midst of their repartee, she couldn't quite let that statement go unexplained, or else risk looking like a complete prick. "Either you'll fuck me, or I'll fuck you." She flashed him a wicked grin. "Metaphorically speaking, of course. But either way, I don't want you pulling your punches, got it? I won't get st

She knew it was coming. Though years might have passed since she'd held a damage-dealing position on the Frontlines, she hadn't completely lost her spatial awareness. The problem was, she couldn't do anything to avoid the attack. He moved with far more speed and grace than a man his size should be allowed, and in seconds, the warm, rough skin of his palm was pressed to her neck. That feels nice, came an absent thought, before everything else happened in quick succession. Her legs vanished from beneath her, her weight shifted, and her breastplate slammed against the stage's wooden floor. The br

Real, honest-to-goodness amusement lit Lessa's features, despite the damage Oscar inflicted. She paused only a few heartbeats to glance at her health bar - already too low for her liking - before giving him her attention again. "I love that," she told him. "Do you have one in my size? Or better yet, maybe I could just have that one after all this is over?" She narrowed her eyes playfully at him before continuing. "I'd get one with your face on it, but I'd want to wear it out in public, and that might scare small children." His jab hadn't fallen on deaf ears. She gave a little shrug, which

Lessa was insane. Certifiably, undeniably, insane. There was absolutely no reason for her to enter a PvP competition, and about a billion reasons for her not to, starting and ending with she hated PvP. Duels rarely, if ever, went in her favor, and they had wrecked more than their fair share of friendships. Back in the real world, Alyssa had thrived on the rush of competition, but that simply had not transferred into the death game. Here, she would much prefer to hold hands and sing Kumbaya with her opponents than try to shove swords through their guts. Opponents. Lessa's lips pulled back

Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: Barrier (6), Field Medic (6) SP Incurred Towards Limit: 12 SP SP Refunded: 12 SP Cost: 12,000 Col

The explosion took Lessa right off her feet. She was entirely unprepared - they all were - and she'd have liked to say that she'd have kept her feet if she'd kept her guard up. But the truth was, the sheer force of the blast would have sent her sprawling no matter how she'd have braced herself. As she'd positioned herself between the wrecked building and the teleport gate, she immediately found herself adjacent to Ground Zero. What did that make her half of the square, littered with prone bodies and the shrieks of the panicked? Ground One? Ground Point-Five? Despite years in Aincrad, her

I'm here with the singular goal of making it further than Oscar.

More than anything, Lessa wanted to go. She wanted to give Eous her head, dig in her heels, and urge the mare into that gallop she knew she was capable of. She wanted to feel the thrill of it, as close to flying as she had ever been in her life. More, she wanted to close the distance to Oliver in as little time as possible. Already, her mind was conjuring the worst case scenarios, painting them in vivid color and detail across her vision whenever she closed her eyes. So she kept them open, choosing instead to focus on the path ahead, and the comforting rock of the horse beneath her. She wanted

Lessa's anger roared out of her, bellowing like an animal as the vines plucked Jomei off the ground. Her blood felt too hot in her veins, and a sudden need to claw at her skin overcame her. What was this feeling so sudden and new? Was it simply the frustration from the quest itself, and their terrible luck? Was it disappointment, and guilt from her own shortcomings? Was it panic, watching her friend get hauled into the air by the vines? Or was it just sheer, unadulterated fury at the goddamn fucking piece of shit Guardian? In the end, it didn't really matter. Roaring, Lessa threw her

Thread Summary 10,010 words. Both Players at T3. (Sorry, this thread was started before we included stat blocks.) (10010 / 10) * 3 * 0.7 Baldur 2,102 EXP & 200 col Lessa 2,102 EXP & 200 col

He drinks a whiskey drink, he drinks a vodka drink, he drinks a lager drink, he drinks a cider drink. He sings the songs that remind him of the good times. Ḥ̦̩͒̑̄ͥͩ͜e̵̲ͥ̈́̍͜_̵͓͇̺̬̤̥̽ͫ̅͐̄͒̈́ͣ́̇̔ͯ̄͢͞ s̴̸̷̶̛̼̺̙̗̤̯̟͇̮͖̟̱̟͕̬ͮ͗ͫ̔̓ͨͣ̈̄̌̆̽͐ͭ̀̔̑ͦͪͩ̆̀̿͆ͫ̚i̢͉͖͚̻̺̙͕͚͍̾͋̃͆͌̿n͑̿g̷͇͖̣̰͍̹̠͖͇͋̓ͨͮ̂̐̽̿̐̓ͧ͛ͥ_̫̗ͥ͡s̷̷̨̡̧̢͚̘̻̦͕̻̼̫̰͉̞̊ͫ̾̅ͪͣ́̃̈́̓ͪ̿͛̈́ͧ̃̀̀̐ͣ͘͠͝͡͞ t̷͚̼̻̙̭̰̻̣͚̬̘̅̔̄͂́̈̀ͬ̿ͬͣͣͯ͜͟h̶̥̑͑̐͢ę̷̛̠̼̦̪̰͙̼̪̫͂̿̿̔̄̌ͭͧ̾̀̎̒͗ͥͫ͗́̓̉ͥ̚̚͠͠ s̺͇̹̝̽̆ͭ̌̑͟_̧̮̥̬͉̀͗̿ơ̸̵̴̤̗̳̪̙̭͇̹̱̲̙̘̣ͯ͑̿̑̅̔̓̊̌̑́ͦ͑͘̚̚͟͟͠n̹̰̠͉̲̜͇̉̓̄̈̇̑ͪͥ͘͞ģ̰̻͎̣͔̖̰͚̇̒́ͯ̎͒̐̍͟͞ͅs͎̉ͬ̚͞ͅ ṭ͖͍̭̲̜͍̞̪͈͗̍͒͐ͨͭ͒ͮ́͆̋̄̚͜͞h̢̦̤͈̳͕̤̓̉̎͒ͧ́̎ͯͭ̓̚͢at̷̷ r̈͒̏em̵̶̮̫̜̪̝̙̟ͤ̅̃͊ͬ̀ͧ̆̅͢

Lessa swept her arm across her midsection, then hinged forward at the waist, presenting Jomei with her most regal bow. She didn't straighten before speaking, instead peering up at the man from beneath her blonde bangs. "For you, I shall fight a Grove Guardian any day." Only then did she stand up again, plucking the flower from his pinched fingers with a flourish, and sending it shattering into shimmering fractals. "One left," she announced, though she highly doubted Jomei had lost count. They were so close to the end, and she could practically taste the victory, as sweet as the grape pop

At Baldur's Star Wars reference, Lessa choked out a laugh. "Ah yes," she answered, nodding sagely. "You and Yoda do have so much in common." She fell silent again as Baldur began addressing Acanthus' question. While the King in Yellow rang a distant bell in her memory, there was no way that she could confidently answer the query herself. That was unusual for Lessa, self-proclaimed know-it-all, but she was grateful yet-again to have Baldur at her side. This time, she appreciated his ability to fill in her gaps. "I know next to nothing about Lovecraft," she mused aloud once the samurai

It was such a pleasure watching Eruda's entire demeanor change as she spoke of Raidou. Everything about her seemed to soften somehow, becoming more pliable, more vulnerable. It was a good look on her, and one that Lessa could recognize anywhere. She'd felt it herself more than once. Her own expression softened as she said, "I can tell he means a lot to you. It's really, really nice that you have someone so important to you in Aincrad. Not everyone can say the same." She tilted her head conspiratorially, then added, "Does he know how you feel?" She paused to reach back in her memories, grasping

After years trapped within Aincrad, Lessa considered herself strong enough to counter many attacks. She could, and had, withstand a swipe from a Floor Boss. She could hold her own in a duel, even with Players she considered to be of superior skill. She could stand firm against twisted cults, mistreatment of Aincrad's youngest, and injustices of all types. She could weather emotional manipulation, loss, and disappointment, again and again and again. But one thing she proved powerless against? Baldur's smile. His expression of pure, unbridled joy coaxed a smile of her own, even though

Lessa guardian of aincrad As Callisto exploded into shimmering fragments, Lessa felt Jomei's eyes on her. She shifted to meet his gaze, and expected to see joy or relief inside them. Instead, it was a strange sort of panic that swam in the green depths. Her grin dropped even faster than the massive bear had. She took a step toward him, hand outstretched and lips parted, both to offer comfort. When the tall, charismatic, stalwart tank crouched, wrapping his arms around his legs, she hesitated. That wasn't the body language of a man

Lessa stood behind her party, her gaze flitting between the five health bars that hovered above their heads. All green. All full. All safe. There was satisfaction in that - a job well-done. She had succeeded in keeping her team alive, as was the task given to her when she accepted the role of support. But more than that, there was a comfort in those green bars. A knowing that her friends, the people she loved most, were okay. That they'd all walk out of there together. That the future still held too many unknowns, but this day, this fight, they would see the end of. No one would die today. Tom

"What." She said nothing more as Lessa watched Freyd return from the dead, though her lips moved soundlessly on words she couldn't find. Shock had melded into such a powerful grief that this sudden pivot made her a bit nauseous. Apparently unable to settle on an appropriate emotion, her body chose to shut down completely, her arms limp, her blue eyes wide and glazed over. If everyone quieted down, they could likely hear the dialup tone drifting from somewhere between Lessa's ears. It was Jomei's shout that she latched onto first, borrowing his courage just as readily as she might hav

Lessa turned to follow Bahr’s finger, and the color seeped from her face once more. “Oh my god,” she breathed, but the sound was lost to the chorus of raised voices surrounding her. Grief, rage, and a pain she could feel in her head and in her heart filled the space. When Lessa went to draw a breath, she couldn’t seem to fill her lungs. Cord’s advice found her first, but Lessa couldn’t blame Jomei when he turned to address the party. Though his words were rigid, the emotion in his eyes burned hot and wild. She couldn’t blame him for that, either. She hadn’t known Freyd well. In fact,

Approved.

In a tangle of limbs and fabric, Lessa flung herself at Bahr and Jomei as the pair moved away from Callisto. Her cheeks, normally flushed a pretty pink, were sheet white. “You’re okay,” she managed, trembling fingers digging into the sleeves of both men as if to tether herself to them. “You’re both okay. Okay. Good.” She laughed out a hard breath, as if to shrug off the fear that squeezed her heart, but it came out borderline manic. Drawing back a step, her eyes swept over both men. Jomei’s healthbar had dipped lower than she’d liked, but otherwise, they seemed to have made it out unscath

A curse fell from chapped lips as Lessa watched Callisto rake at Jomei’s midsection once more. A quick glance at his health bar revealed he didn’t take too much damage - certainly not as much as he might have without his new tank build. But that didn’t stop the wince as she watched her friend stumble backward. "Be careful!" she called out for what felt like the millionth time since the fight began. She had to trust that he’d be fine - he was their tank, afterall. But that didn’t keep her from worrying. Her attention was quickly drawn away as vines thrust upward from the ground. As visions

Lessa let her head roll back, eyes closing as the music once more washed over her. It crashed like wave, sound and emotion drenching her as it pressed against and through. Despite everything - the injuries, the stakes, the smell of death hanging heavy in the air - the woman paused to appreciate the magic of the bow skipping along the strings. “Goddamn,” she finally moaned, her soul returning to her body through a force of will. “You are really good at that, Jom.” The notes hummed through her, buzzing like electricity along a hot wire. She felt a sudden need to just go. To act, to deal dam