Azide

Yeah, I can see how a massive super-thread might either drag on or die off. Six-month-long Molten Hydra fight, anyone? 

Haha, but in all seriousness, I think your premise gives us plenty of room to work with. I'd be down to start one of those splinter threads, if you'd like.

Finally finished my only topic the other day, and I'm game for some plot.

Beam me up, kid.

"Sorry, I must've spaced out for a moment," said Azide, blinking slowly as his eyes beheld the freshly-finished dagger before him. With a short-lived chuckle, he brought the transaction to its completion with a stroke of his finger. Just like that, sixteen hundred col vanished from his account, presumably materializing within the inventory of the white-haired man. Likewise, the sleek knife appeared between his fingers, accompanied by a brief flash of white light. Light-weight and slick, he maneuvered it through the air with a certain amount of whimsy, a twinkle in his eye as the instrument sliced through the air. "Anyway," he continued, flipping the blade over, "please send your guildmates my regards." He slid the entirety of the dagger into an empty sheath at his hip, then aimed a small nod to the weapon's creator. "In any case, I think this'll do just fine for my purposes." Turning away, he made his way towards the door, departing with a far-off, "Thanks." 

-1600 col from Azide
+1600 col to Macrodon

Topic Complete

+200 col to Azide and Opal

+1 SP to Azide and Opal

"You know, I figured at first that I was just being paranoid," said Azide, bringing his steps to a rolling halt. The steady sounds of his voice drifted slowly through the night time current, emerging ultimately unimpeded. In spite of the murk which lived within these midnight hours, he had no doubt that his statements had nonetheless carried as clear as a bell on a Sunday afternoon. Pressing forward no longer, the young man turned around, finding himself faced with a whole lot of nothing. Into the veil he peered, sifting through the vastness of it all with sweeping arcs of his eyes. But even then, there was nothing; though in hindsight, that wasn't necessarily the entirety of it. Something was here, no doubt. Rather, it was just unfortunate that this very same 'something' continued to linger beyond the limits of his sight.

Even still, it was certain that his words would succeed where his eyes had failed him; time of day had never been of much importance when it came to the ears. A single hand crept downward, towards the spot on his hip where the old blade resided. It had not seen serious use in ages- and in fact, he no longer even held proficiency with its weapon-type. But then again, one tended not to ponder the experience of an armed man when push came to shove. 

With his point made, he addressed his unseen company once more. His lips curled at their corners, giving them the shape of a subtle frown. "But out of sheer curiosity, I locked onto one of those mobs we passed back there. Sure, the system doesn't give you much useful information in most cases- just the name of the thing," he began, pausing momentarily as he continued to survey the shadowy scene. "In this case, I stunned them all- just long enough so that I could pass through unharmed. But not long enough for, say, a straggler to do the same."

His fingers curled around the handle of the elegant blade, and as he released a steady breath, he watched as it condensed before him in the chilly air. "If you're still wondering where I'm going with this- I know that someone was around to finish off at least one of those wolves. And you know how I know? Frankly, it's because I never released my lock on the last of those creatures. So when you killed it to move on, I noticed when its name disappeared from my display- even though I was unable to hear the act myself."

Azide took another step further, staring daggers into the darkness ahead. Finally, a figure began to emerge from the shadows, earning a click of his scabbard as the gleaming blade was revealed. The cold steel half-drawn, he directed the entirety of attention to this unknown individual. "So I have to ask: why in god's name are you following a man like me at this time of night?"

"Would God's name not be reason enough?" It was a man's voice that'd answered- poised, yet not unyielding, and it was followed soon thereafter by the sound of hearty laughter. 

As the man stepped into view, it became apparent that he was unarmed. In fact, even his armor held a certain barrenness to it- there was no pomp or flash in the simple garments he'd chosen to equip. On top of that, the locks which framed his smiling face were completely deprived of color: white, as if he'd just been dusted by a blizzard on the winter floor. Perhaps most tellingly of all, not a single muscle in his entire body seemed to be tensed.

"Forgive me, my friend. I meant only to lighten the mood," said the man, gesturing to the darkness around them with a wide arc of his hand. With a cheery grin, he paced forward a short distance further, before dipping his head in a low bow. Before the gesture's conclusion, the man blinked open a single eye, finding himself greeted by the sight of a slim, shining blade- drawn now in full and pointed squarely at him.

Without missing a beat, the man straightened himself up and returned to full mast. Neither his smile, nor his vague sense of calm, had faltered for even a moment. Lifting his hand, he brought it up to clasp the back of his neck, then rubbed at it faintly. "I guess I should probably hold off on the jokes for now. It's a real shame too, since I had some great ones lined up- but that sword you've got there would probably take my head clean off before I could get to the punchline." He lowered his hand from his nape as his body rolled into an easy shrug. "When it comes down to it, I guess I'd just rather live to see another day."

A twinkle in his eye; he glanced upward, paying respect not to the stars, but to another thing entirely. "Besides, I don't think either of us has any reason to worry. We're both green players, are we not?" he asked, giving a playful flick to the cursor hovering above his head. "You have my word that I'm nothing but another traveler," said the man, pressing a closed hand against his chest.

For a moment more, he maintained the gesture, then dropped it altogether. "Anyway," he tugged lightly on the leather strap which was slung across his shoulder, "I think you already know how dangerous it can be to travel these open roads at night." He closed his eyes, and breathed in through his nose before expelling the air in the same way. By the time he'd opened them, his expression had taken a decidedly more solemn turn. "No doubt you've heard about the poor souls who've gone missing recently around these parts. God forbid that we'd be two more to join them..." he said, giving a slow shake of his head.

As if the last few moments had existed somewhere outside of time, the man's cheery demeanor had by now returned in full. "So? How about we watch each other's backs for the time being, hmm? At least until one of us reaches his destination. Seems pretty win-win, if you ask me," chimed the man. Touching his thumb to his index finger, he raised his hand so that it sat approximately level with his eyes. The meaning of the gesture was obvious: 'A-okay'.

"I might not wear heavy metal suit of armor, swing around an oversized sword or swear like a sailor, but I'm a pretty tough guy," answered Azide, cracking perhaps his first tried-and-true smile of the night. The shape itself resembled the many contortions which had preceded it, though it was only now that the curled corners came without the usual conflicts of interest. He shrugged, lifting his hands to accompany the gesture. "I'm sure i'll manage just fine- cosmic shenanigans be damned. But if the universe is feeling generous, then I'm not the sort to turn down a side of magical goodness."

He lowered his hands, returning them to his usual position of choice as of late; within the pockets of his coat, they settled comfortably as he studied the woman across from him. After a moment, he nodded; a slight dip of the head was all it was, and he couldn't be sure that she had even perceived it. It was a dispassionate, brief motion, which left little allowance for enthusiasm. Even then, his eyes had remained sharp as he'd spoken. "I'll try my best," he said simply.

"As for everything else? There's nothing dishonorable with crying- not really, anyway. After all, we can't all be strong all of the time," he added. And while that was all good and true, he'd neglected to mention that the fact of the matter did little to discourage many individuals of attempting just that- himself a notable name in that vast list. Never had he denied his nature; pride was a fact of life, and with it, he had made his peace long ago.

Still, his gaze remained steadfast and trained. It was very much looking as if this unexpected encounter would soon be wrapping up, and he wondered how long it might be before such another one came about. It seemed as if it'd been so long since these more whimsical occurrences had called for his attention. But in any case, he reminded himself that things here had not come to an end just yet. Despite the goldmine of irony at hand, he felt obligated to at least say goodbye this time around, if only for now.

At her off-handed comment, he blinked. Turning his eyes to their corners, he considered the meaning of her words before offering a dry and quiet chuckle. "So long as you don't do anything rash, you should be able to stave off another few months at the least," he remarked. Then, taking a step forward, he laid a single hand upon the woman's covered shoulder. A moment passed as he held the lady's gaze with his own. Then came another. After what might've been seconds or hours, he spoke his last words of the night.

"Take care, Opal," said Azide. Turning away, the man took his leave. There existed no compulsion within him to entertain a backward glance- but that in itself was nothing new. As he faded into the darkness, the sound of whistling continued to persist from quite some time, a testament that the man called Azide continued to walk this winding world.

Bleeding so brilliantly, he aimed a cursory glance at the damaged sleeve; from it, the blue smoke still streamed, though by now its course more closely resembled a trickle than that of a rushing river. It would come to pass, and could always be fixed- not at all like people, except in the case of the former. Not frail, but rather, fragile. Much too fragile. Always too fragile.

"There's nothing to apologize for. It's not the end of the world," said Azide. Noticing the path which the woman's eyes had traveled, it wasn't long before he too turned his eyes to the sky. On the most basic level, it was a shallow, meaningless gesture- nothing more than the kneel of godless men as they descended from their pews; more than the wrath of the divine, it was the judgement of their fellow men which brought them to their knees. But god-fearing he was not, and neither were his fears born of man.

In reality, every starry eyeful and upward glance served as a constant reminder. Though he'd entertained himself a non-believer, a line had been crossed on that fateful day: the day a mere man ascended to the ethereal throne, and snatched the crown of god with the filthiest of hands. A man who'd killed god, and thought himself a suitable replacement- that was Kayaba Akihito.

Usurper king or otherwise, it seemed unlikely that their so-called god roamed the heavens; that it was the sky which he turned to was but symbolic and instinctive in nature. However, if this man was not Zeus, whose not-so-humble home scraped the heavens themselves, then where was it that their god-king resided? More than two years later, and still, there had never once been a credible report. Aincrad's most notorious figure had simply vanished, and they were all in the dark.

Into the night went the moonlit sphere, and he watched in silence for a while longer as wispy clouds moved to hide the forms of countless celestial bodies. The woman's passing reference to a certain production had not eluded him- it had been one of the many which he'd seen witnessed first hand, and likely one of the better ones at that. Even then, the significance of her allusion was left unclear, though he refrained from giving the matter too much thought. There'd been plenty here to ponder as it was.

Just like that, it seemed as if the man of few words had made his return. He was vaguely aware of the briefness which had shrouded the most recent of their exchanges, though he had never been one to fear these quieter moments. "If those answers exist in this world, I can hardly expect to find them here of all places," he said, turning around on the balls of his feet. He shot a quick glance over the small of his shoulder, waving over to the woman behind him. "In the meantime, there's no point in sticking around this place any longer. Really starts to lose its touch after the novelty wears off."

"Yes," said the man. A nod of his head, however redundant; it was as much a formality as the plaster pathway which followed the curve of his lips. "That was, in fact, the plan. Simple, ambitious and clean- but most importantly of all: it was necessary." Atop the rounded pommel of the grounded blade, his fingers rocked back and forth in an arpeggio roll, tapping along to a beat with no name. "It was needed. It was our only hope of surviving this mess; those words became my mantra. A man with a vision in a world so sorely in need of eyes like my own- I wouldn't let those eyes belong to a simple spectator. It was my duty to lead... and in those last few days, I'd known that I was at the cusp of something great."

Even in those first steps, the potential had been undeniable. Heathcliff, Azide and Opal- all three names notable in their own right, and to sweeten the deal, the Crown Lion herself had been all but confirmed. All of this in such a short span of time, before he'd even had the chance to truly get to work.

On and on they went: those pale, slender fingers; they drummed to an impossible beat, dancing atop their stage with neither rhyme nor rhythm. A plastic smile, falling just short of its task; a shade too bright, a hair too wide and a touch too stiff- this was not its brother, of flesh and of blood. Again, the wind howled, singing its siren song. Like an old friend, he greeted the wind, and raised a hand to the stars. 

"But there's music in my mind, Opal. And I've begun to realize that not everybody can hear it," said Azide. A turn of his head as he looked to the young lady. A stare just a moment too long; brief, but too long all the same. Away he turned, and down came the outstretched hand. Earthen eyes came to a close, and he snorted once in total. Around the smooth pommel, he wrapped his fingers in an intimate embrace. "It twists and it turns, and it changes completely at the drop of a hat. By all means, no one should be able to understand it. But I do." He sighed, and his eyes fluttered open. "And therein lies the problem." 

The young man laughed, leaning slighting against the sword's slender frame. "I'm sure my explanation probably makes little sense. But I'm afraid that's the nature of these things." From out of the dirt, Atom Slicer rose by the grace of his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he flipped the sword upright before reaffirming his hold. "Amethyst Descent... Knights of the Blood... even Square one. Sure, I had my reasons every time, but even I'm still left to wonder...." 

A single stroke: swift, and almost blisteringly so. Rag in hand, he held out the freshly cut cloth as azure dust streamed from the frays of his sleeve. "I can't tell you what to do, where to go, or even offer you the answers to those questions. Not when I'm still searching these things myself." He inched the verdant fabric closer towards the woman, turning to her once more. "You're a symbol of hope now, you know. Your guildmates shouldn't see you cry- not if you can afford it."

With a click, the blade was returned to it sheath, and he grasped the woman's hand with his own. Gently, he raised it up to the light, before pressing the soft scrap into her palm. "But I'm not your guildmate. And it's too dark to see."

"If it gives you even the tiniest bit of satisfaction, then by all means, carry on as you have," said Azide, a sidelong glance capping the statement's tail-end. 

Gone were the formalities which had pervaded the eyes and lips of the young man; yet, even in their absence, neither rage nor wrath had filled their seats. In the wake of that exchange, it was steel which lived on: a steely look which persisted, and clung to his countenance. A stubborn river of steel which ebbed and flowed, and filled every nook, crook and cranny- of course its course would continue, even when others had so freely abandoned their ships. A steeliness for the ages, forged and reforged time and time again.

"Lecture me to hell and back again. Fine. As long as you're able to extract so much as a single ounce of catharsis from this moment- who am I to get in the way of that?" A quarter turn leading into a swiveled gaze, and suddenly it was steel crossed with amber.

Confined to their chambers, his hands remained firmly entrenched within the folds of his coat as his boot struck the ground, affirming the shift in his stance. Above them, in an unending sky, the silver lady of the night disrobed; cloudy garments removed and discarded, it was only now that she'd revealed her form in full. Under the pale light of the moon, it was likely that the dark circles below his eyes might be mistaken for mere shadows. How quickly the hours had passed. 

Around them, the ever present wind slowed to a cease. A certain look lingered within those golden pools, and in the silent beat, he pondered the emotions which stirred beneath their surface. Anger? Disappointment? And perhaps even betrayal, he noted.

Again, he spoke, filling the void with the measure of his voice. "But before you take me up on that offer, allow me to make something clear: I'm not about to stand here and be lectured to about me. I know the things I've done in the last few months, and I can safely say that 'vacationing' and 'running away' were not among them. You think I bought myself a nice little hut on the beach?"

A simple shake of his head. "As for my contributions to the front-lines? Nothing I say here tonight will change what I've given here in Aincrad, and so I'll leave it to my record to speak for itself."

Once more, he turned. Back under the cover of darkness, his eyes retreated. "Of the ten thousand who've existed in this world, I've only ever blamed two. Naturally, there's Kayaba, who trapped us here in the first place." Within their sockets, steely eyes gleaned over to steal a glimpse of the lady beside him. 

"And then there's me." A hand released itself from his pocket, manifesting the slender form of an old rapier in the space before him. Before it could drop from the air, he snatched the humble blade by its grip, and held it out before him. In perfect parallel with the ground beneath their feet, the metal gleamed as it caught the light. With an edge of polished steel, the sword returned his look with ease. "Who never said goodbye."

He blinked. Then, turning the weapon perpendicular, drove it into the ground. A hint of a smile returned to his lips as his arms weaved against each other. Rhythmically, he tapped his foot against the floor, stopping only after biting his tongue. Skyward, Azide lifted his head. "I guess this is the part where I say sorry."

For a moment, he bowed his head, allowing the wisdom of the woman's words to truly sink in. Consideration took its leave in the form of sustained exhalation, exiting his body through each nostril as a steady breath. A simultaneous pat of each knee accompanied the ritual, and all appeared to be right in the world of Azide. 

Until from behind closed doors, two coffee-colored orbs came rushing to the scene with all patience of a runaway freight train. In that same moment, he rose up from the ground- nearly recoiling as he did so, as if he half expected for a hand to come shooting up from underneath. But they bore no interest in the lady; no, they took aim at the very nothingness which presented itself before them. No longer were his arms locked to their passive positions- they reined in the intensity of the moment, moving in accordance with invisible desires.

"I had a life back there," shot Azide. Words as knives to cut the air, and hands as whips- punctuating each slash with a lash of their own. He shook his head, every pretense of a smile now vanished from his face. "I wasn't some poor schmuck- some degenerate with more problems than a mathematical textbook." It was only natural that a videogame world like this would be populated by such textbook demographics. "And unlike most of these people, I actually liked it back there."

A heavy sigh, and his eyes sank to graze the floor. With little fanfare, his hands crept back to the comfort of his pockets, and for a while he simply waded in the silence. The slow blinking of his eyes, making the starlight twinkle more than was par, shadows flickering as they dance right off of the rocky ledge.

Finally, his voice broke the smothering surface of silence once more. "I never needed this place to be strong, or to be whole," he said simply, reduced to a slow-burning smolder. "We're wasting our time, and wasting away all the while." Like a pendulum at the long-end of effectivity, his boot came swinging softly into a loose chunk of gravel, knocking it into the depths below.

He turned a glance to Opal. "My friends are out there right now, changing the world," he said, spreading his arms in a grand gesture. "Meanwhile..." the outstretched limbs dropped unceremoniously to hang at his sides, "...I'm stuck in this wasteland." 

A somber breeze rustled his hair, and he rocked his head from side to side before rolling both shoulders. "But I guess I'm just too stubborn to call it quits," he remarked, staring out into the vast emptiness. "So I keep pressing forward, even when it's ceased to make sense."

An arch of the brow was among the first of his reactions; the man seated at the front of the shop seemed awfully familiar, albeit he found himself unable to put a name to the face. Perhaps they'd met at one of those impromptu gatherings where everyone happened to run into each other at seemingly scripted times and places, or maybe he'd simply passed him by one evening as they walked the lively streets of the first floor. In any case, a brief glance around confirmed that this was indeed the place he'd been looking for. Swords, shields, armor and more metallic curiosities littered the main room, and it seemed unlikely that a metal mallet would be of any use in the shop of cook.

With a wave and a smile, Azide made his way to the counter in sequence of steady strides. "Nice place you've got here," said the young man, snatching one of many sheets from the stack. Taking a pen between his fingers, his eyes darted upward for a moment, catching sight of the emblem which hung proudly beside the smith's cursor. "Knights of the Blood, huh?" he remarked, more to himself than anything. The ink raced from its cartridge and onto the once-blank page, and he lifted the completed form in offering to the shopkeeper. In neat lettering, the page read:

Name: Garanza
Your Profession: Blacksmith
Your Rank: 6
ID: [Leave blank]
Roll: [Leave blank]
Item Type: One-Handed Dagger
Tier: 2
Quality: Perfect
Enhancements: +3 Damage (T2)
Description: A lightweight knife consisting of two blades held closely in parallel. While black overall, a single ring of green adorns the dagger's hollowed center.

"They're a fine group, but I'm sure you're probably of a similar opinion," he added. A few taps of his finger summoned before him a shimmering screen, and through it he navigated with a practiced sort of mastery. "Now, a dagger of this sort comes out to a total of sixteen hundred col, is that right?" Another movement of his hand caused a window to appear in front of the other man.

Quote

 

Azide has offered 1600 col. Accept?
> Yes

No

 

"Sensation... contemplation... integration..." spoke the young man. He watched as a small stone fell from the woman's hand, and followed its descent until its meager form could be detected no longer. Between his fingers, he rolled a pebble of his own, weaving and guiding it among them with the ease of one who'd practiced such a thing for quite some time. "It sounds as if your teacher was an introspective one, Opal. And a rather intelligent man in his own right, if I had to wager."

If there existed some deeper meaning behind the anecdote, it had been lost on him. Ripples, pebbles, waves and meditation- the whole thing was colored by a distinctly counter-cultural approach, and such things had never been the focus of his interests. An overabundance of metaphysics with a criminal lack of actual physics did not tend to make for a compelling field of study, he reasoned. Even so, it sounded to him as if the story was simply one which demonstrated the merits of fuller consideration- and that was something he could get behind. It was, after all, something which he had done plenty of lately. 

Up to the level of his eyes, the small stone was raised. In his hand, the mottled piece of earth shimmered as it caught the pale light of the moon and the stars. "I've searched this place long and hard for any semblance of beauty. Hours, days, weeks and months- slaving over such a simple mission; all I have to show for it is a pair of empty hands," said Azide. Still, his expression remained that of an apparent smile; a bitter upturn of lips, if there'd ever been one. A flick of his wrist propelled the pebble through the air, until it too began to fall. Far and away it drifted, until nothing more of it could be seen- consumed by the unending depths of the world below.

"I stand by my conclusion; this world is as decrepit as it gets. Even with all my efforts, I've failed to find even a single sign which might suggest the active influence of this realm's creator."

In the literal sense, it was true: never had he found any solid evidence of such a thing. From the very first day, Kayaba had vanished into thin air, and nothing had been heard or seen from him since. Still, the implications of such a disappearance had eventually crossed his mind, though he would not consider such musings as credible leads. 

"As for the other half of the equation, you've hinted at it yourself: in this world, people die, and people suffer. The same as any world, really, but with one vital difference; it's also incapable of creating any new life. It exists because we exist, and once the last of us takes our final breath, it might as well not exist at all. Aincrad is abandoned, and all we can do is play soldier, and pretend as if twelve floors across two years is enough to get by."

He shook his head, but still, the brittle smile decorated his visage. Letting out a drawn-out sigh, he slackened the tendons in his arms, giving relief to the whitened knuckles of his hands. "I hate that man, Opal. From the bottom of my heart, I truly despise him- for what he did to me, and to you, and to all the other poor souls who slipped on those metal deathtraps. If were to ever meet him in the flesh..." he trailed off, unwilling to declare those poisoned words.

"If I'm wrong about this, then I can't even begin to wonder about the value of these past few months," remarked Azide. 

Rather than the woman's own hybrid approach, he himself had opted instead to seat himself cross-legged, just as he had done all those years ago. An open hand rested comfortably atop each knee, both curling inward almost unknowingly. The slightest twitch of his nose, followed by the shutting of two heavy lids and ending in a momentary flicker of darkness. The bright scent of oranges continued to persist in the air, and he allowed himself to take a more satiating breath. It crossed his mind that had he been a smoker, it was at moments like this that those long drags would have filled his lungs.

His eyes fluttered open, greeting the night with the warmth and familiarity of an old friend. "I admit, it's entirely possible that I've managed to overlook something," he said, turning to meet the eyes of the woman beside him. "But whether or not I believe that- well, that's a whole different story." He shifted back to gaze upon the ethereal sight ahead as the last of the words escaped him.

What hadn't escaped him was the distinct optimism which clung to her musings like lingering smoke; this woman and the one he'd met back at the arena were most definitely one and the same, there was no doubt about that. But if he'd been judging simply by disposition and temperament alone, a call like that would be rather difficult to argue. Somewhere along the way, a fire had been lit inside of her soul, and he thought he'd caught a glimpse of it in those golden eyes. It was not something to be trifled with, nor a thing to be stomped underfoot and snuffed out without so much as a backward glance. 

Like the spindly limbs of a spider, his fingers scurried across the dusty earth until they stumbled across what he'd been searching for. "You're a lucky one, Opal," said Azide. Slowly, he closed his fingers around the small pebble, which felt cool and smooth within his grip. Thrice, he bounced the stone softly atop his palm, catching it each time before allowing it to rest between his fingertips. "Lucky to see what you see in this world." He craned back his neck and scanned the sprawling expanse overhead with a stare far-removed. "Or maybe I'm just crazy," he added, smiling. 

"As for the matter of guilds, I'm afraid that I can't offer much in the way of reassurances- both for the time being, and even indefinitely." It was a true cop out answer, and one unlikely to elicit much excitement or enthusiasm, and of this he was fully aware. "Your guildmates deserve somebody with more commitment than I have to offer at the moment- and it just so happens that a certain someone around here carries that in spades. So we can't be too disappointed."

Bittersweet reminisce tugged at the corner of his lip, urging it upward just enough to paint the shadow of a fuller, truer smile. "Eleven members, and a bustling guild on the come-up," summed the young man. 

It was a familiar story, even if the numbers themselves didn't line up quite so exactly. It was just a few cycles ago that he'd been fighting for news like this, and in the grand scheme of things, the same had again been true not long before that. The same fervor, the same tenacity- they surfaced every now and then, waving a different banner and guised under a new name. One day it was progress, and the next: stability. Labels were surprisingly unhelpful when applied to anything more complex than a box of crackers or a can of tuna.

"I'd ask for forgiveness, as people ought to do after such abrupt abandonment of their posts," began Azide. His arms intertwined during that brief pause, the resulting bridge cradled closely against his own body. "But admittedly, I've got a history of this sort of thing," he continued, briefly uncrossing an arm to brush from his eyes the offending stands. His expression softened, though his eyes continued to wear their far-off look. 

"I can't say I condone that brand of carelessness, much less from myself. And I certainly won't have anyone else doing so, well-intentioned or not." The words left his lips as a sigh, and his eyes pressed closed for a moment as the air flowed inward to grant him another breath. "So instead, I'll commend you. for staying steadfast in your resolve. You executed on what we'd professed, and from the sound of it, have done no less than a fine job."

The woman's eyes trailed hell-ward, and from the look on her face, he guessed she'd taken notice of their less-than-usual backdrop. With an outstretched hand and a few words of concern, she expressed all which she'd needed, even if the words themselves had remained half-vacant. For a while, he simply held her gaze. Eventually, stoicism gave way to a show of teeth, followed by a soft chuckle and a shake of the head. "Of course not," said Azide, shifting his hands to his pockets. "Nothing like that."

Opal sat down, and he did the same, taking a seat at the brink of the boundless abyss. "There's only so far that you can run before the futility of it starts to sink in," said the man. Still, the endless herd continued to march across the twilight field, decorating the vastness with woolen blotches of white. "And I think it's commendable that you've found freedom, even in a place as decrepit as this." Arms folded once more, his fingers drummed gently against the arm upon which they laid. "To tell you the truth, that's something I envy."

A name, spoken from somewhere in the distance, hushed by the breeze and warmed by the fading light- soft like the clouds which danced before him. How long had it been since he'd last heard it? 

A month, possibly two, and even a touch beyond that. Plenty of time for asking questions, but never nearly enough to answer them. Not in any real way. Never in any satisfying way.

Either way, his ears had twitched just before he'd even recognized the mantle as his own- he reckoned that it'd been long enough for formalities to have lain dormant, at the very least. A single brow inched skyward, he turned to face the source of the phantom sound.

What greeted him first was an almost floral aroma, which he quickly gathered to be the scent of a freshly pruned orange tree. It'd been so long since he'd felt the smooth, slick peel of citrus between his fingers; how sad was it that he'd nearly forgotten things as simple and as pleasant as that? 

It didn't help that, while impressive, the NerveGear's rendering of smell performed at a level roughly equivalent to one's taste buds during a bout with the common cold. There, and fully recognizable, but without any of the spark that might otherwise bring such a sensation to life.

It was Opal who'd delivered his name, and Opal who smelled of the carrot-colored fruits and their blossoms. Moreover, it was Opal who stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around him.

It was Azide who returned the gesture, albeit in a manner more reminiscent of embracing a supposed distant relative than that of two former guildmates. Maybe it was suddenness of her initiative which had caught him off guard. Or perhaps it was his awareness of the precariousness of their position- standing at the edge of what amounted to an endless cliffside, to which his back was now turned.

Eyes the color of autumn, still wide as the mind behind them processed these most of developments, looked upon the woman's familiar face for a moment further as she took a step back. A nod of his head served to acknowledge the first of the player's sentiments, while a solemn smile adorned his lips as he considered the ones which followed.

"The Sando Satsu, was it?" spoke Azide. The name stirred up memories, managing through even the haze of all that had taken place since those days. He paused, placing two hands around the edges of his jacket, and gave a firm tug as the woman set her sights upon the sky. "It certainly has been a while, to say the least."

Again, the wind whispered to the earth, rustling the leaves at their feet. Was he a cold man, for not saying much more than what he had? That particular point was arguable, he felt. But then again, how often was it that warm men resorted to jackets and coats?

A city drenched in white, not unlike the snow-capped peaks and frosted fields of the fourth floor- this was Taft. And yet, for all of their piety, neither the slick walls nor the bleached buildings within them had ever elicited from him so much as a single gasp of wonder or awe. 

Or perhaps it would be more honest to say that it was because of the site's supposed affair with the divine that these unsavory sensations were allowed to prick at his skin like too many burrs held hostage by the folds of one's clothes. He had heard of certain places, where a man could cup his hands to his mouth and drink the warmth from the air; this was not that sort of place. Not for men like him.

A single gust of wind undid the meticulousness of cider-colored locks, and he folded his arms his chest with a resolve that might have suggested intimacy had he embraced another, rather than himself. 

~

He had never seen the appeal in so-called 'extreme sports' such as BASE jumping or skydiving, but he could only imagine that a view like this was almost commonplace for those who partook in such reckless frivolities. With the sun hanging low in the horizon, he was nothing more than a dimly lit silhouette to any prying eyes- a lone figure at the very edge of a great precipice, his hands in his pockets and his sights set towards the skies. 

But to leave it at that would be downright misleading- just another half-truth to toss atop the pile. How often was it that one might look down and see the sky? Up, down and all around, white-and-silver fish drifted endlessly about like careless puffs of smoke. 

Perhaps if the circumstances had been slightly different, he might have wondered if other eyes existed somewhere beyond the foggy veil, staring back from the other side. But it was a pointless consideration, and hardly one worth entertaining. 

Still, there was a certain sort of allure to it- the fabled edge of Aincrad.

Favorite species of shark?

"I think it's important to keep in mind that openly hostile gestures are prone to provoke equally hostile reactions," Azide began. His lips followed the curve of a smile, betraying the coffee pools which swirled stiffly within their sockets in a mirror image of the thoughts that pervade the furthest corners of his mind.

While he himself was kept in check by an unwavering belief in his own abilities, it seemed a bit optimistic to assume that this was true of everyone in this world, or any world. For as long as power and leverage continued to exist, those with insecurities regarding their own would naturally be driven to 'correct' the situation; and as the old adage went, nothing could be more dangerous than a cornered animal. Whereas men could generally be counted upon to see reason, animals were far more likely to fight first, and ask questions later.

"Though I'm fortunate enough to have never witnessed such an incident first-hand, I can only imagine that orange players with a constant grip around their weapons might actually be setting themselves up for a self-fulfilling prophecy." Still, the apparent smile did not abandon his face, nor did his tone ever stray from its usual casualness.

The eyes of the blue-haired man flashed as he peered around the vicinity, and Azide watched as the swordsman sped off after an unseen foe. Hearing the rip of metal against leather and flesh, he plucked Chemikaze from its pouch and twirled the instrument between his fingers before affirming his grip.

With a brief turn of his head, he entertained the girl's inquiry with a reply as equally concise as the gesture that accompanied it. "Probably not as funny as the ones you have, miss." Even as he spoke, his eyes discerned the location of the enemy in question, and he drew back his arm in response. After a brief moment, the length of the black blade glowed a deep red, and he surged forward- dagger in hand, and his target in sight.

Before long, his charge was followed by a five-hit flurry; with the system guiding his hands, the resulting arcs of swings were every bit as relentless as they were unnecessary. But even still, the scaled beast had fallen all the same.

---

ID: 40769 | BD: 3 + 3 (Equipment) = 6 (Hit) | LD: 11 (Col found)

<<Infinite>> activated for (5x1)[10+4(Charge)] = 70

70 RAW - 51 MT = 19 DMG

HP List

Azide: 149/149

    Energy: 31/36 (-5)

Calrex: 209/209

    Energy: 40/51 

Enemies:
Stone Lizard: -6/105

+1 Material, +525 Col

'Quiet' was debatable; while he had never been one to run his mouth, he reckoned that he spoke often enough to fall within the socially accepted range. That being said, their limited interactions with one another had not exactly given either of them a particularly large sample size to make any proper assessments of the other, and he could see where one might get such an impression from. If anything, the moniker of 'lurker' held some truth to it, and the realization drew from him a shallow laugh.

"Well enough, Calrex," said Azide, his eyes shifting between the colorful pair. "But if I have to be honest, you two are looking a bit tired." He gave a slightly turn of his head, appraising the dark shadows which pooled beneath tired eyes. "Not that I'm taking a dig at either of your appearances- after all, the people of this world are rather surprisingly easy on the eyes as whole, all things considered." All the while, he looked each of the players dead in the eye as he spoke, before finally letting his features soften once more. "You look as if you could use a bit more sleep, though I'm sure I'm not telling you what you don't already know. On the other hand..." Fingers unfurled, he gestured with an open palm to the girl's left-hand. "...you're looking as if your left hand is especially tired, from the way you're resting it on top of that sword right there."

The free hand of the girl faded away from his own, leaving him to slip the dangling digits into the refuge of his coat pockets. At the young lady's suggestion, his brow arched upward the slightest bit- almost imperceptibly so, but otherwise his reaction consisted mostly of a far-off stare. Training was no longer the sort of thing which busied his days, and no reference to such an outing had been made in prior. But even then, he conceded with a nod of his head. "That sounds fine by me," Azide answered, refraining from drawing his weapon just yet. "Lead the way."

"Seen me standing around, more likely than not," said Azide. He raised his arms for a full-bodied shrug as he rounded the corner of the sloping trail. Though he'd indeed been present for the past couple of boss fights, the only raid which had required his efforts had been the least significant of them all, as fate would have it. His brow furrowed at the very thought of it; even now, the creased lines darkened momentarily, until finally he gathered about his wits just enough to defer the issue to a later day. "But hey, there's really no reason to complain. After all, we've been knocking these guys down like never before; we should be celebrating the fact that our concerns revolve around giving everyone a fair shot at our enemies, rather than assessing the number of casualties they might inflict." As the last of the words fell from his lips, he pulled the thin line into a careless smile.

For a moment, his hands remained locked where they had fallen. Never for a moment had he ever believed the truth of his own words; with the emergence of certain skills, those like himself seemed to be growing increasingly redundant. Obsolete, even. But he drew his arms inward, letting them fold across his chest. Just beyond reach from the entangled couple, Azide came to a halt. Flicking his eyes from head to toe, he took note of the telltale cursor which hovered silently above the girl's head.  "I take it you that you're Teayre," he said, offering said girl a hand. "My apologies for having never introduced myself beforehand. Just never wanted to step on old blue-hair's toes, I suppose." 

Present day

"Excuse me, McGonagall?" asked Azide. He coughed into the fist of an unfettered hand, and though the case could be made that he was 'sick', this particular gesture had not been born of any conventional illness. His coffee-colored gaze currently tangled between the starving stares of four, words were just about the limit of what he could spare for the buffoonish man. Even for the briefest moment, one should never throw his company under the bus- especially when that company consisted of ravenous, likely man-eating creatures and beasts. All things considered, it seemed a safe bet to say that these monsters wanted nothing less than to satisfy their curiosities as to how this human might taste.

Autumnal leaves crunched crisply alongside the snaps of fallen twigs as the mobs inched ever closer, enticing his fingers to clasp tighter around the handle of the knife entrusted to them. "Er, McGonagall, you have my sincerest apologies if I happen to be imposing..." the young man began, backing away from the group as slowly as possible. He cleared his throat, louder than before. "...but I do believe that it'd be in both of our best interests if we were to swap adversaries."

Ever since he'd returned, various patches to the system mechanics had made it exceedingly dangerous for him to engage with more than a single opponent at a time, let alone four. Meanwhile, his friend with the heavy-hitting, multi-hitting sword over there was absolutely hamming it up over there against a single bear-like creature.

10 Years ago

"Nouel!" She clapped her hands twice in front of his face in rapid succession, making him blink slowly as the haze of his daze was lifted from his mind. "Anyway, like I was saying," she continued, hands sliding down to grip at her sides. The slight pout of her lips had since faded, and in its place was a smile he recognized well. It was the same one that said, everything is okay. "Don't be scared, okay? Because if you start wimping out on me, I swear..."

The brown-haired boy straightened his ragged coat and tie, raised himself to full attention- and then raised himself just a touch beyond even that. "Hey, hey, hey! Come on Celine, I am not a wimp," said Nouel, his tippy toes lifting him a further inch or two off of the ground. All-too-aware of what he was doing, he moved his own hands to his hips, flaring his elbows outward in a dramatic fashion. "Do I have to remind you who the older and taller one here is? I'm not afraid of a bunch of nuns- I'm practically as much of an adult as they are!" whispered the boy. He stole a quick glance at the door behind them, breathing a sigh only upon confirming that the knob had indeed been locked. "Besides," he continued, a twinkle in his eye, "Why should I be scared? Nobody's gonna come up here besides us, except for maybe the rats." He paused, expecting her to shudder or shriek, but carried on when neither of these things took place. "After all, I'll have you know I didn't pick this place all willy nilly. Now, if you'll just..."

Azide/Nouel | McGonagall | Ciel/Celine

~

10 Years ago

"You shouldn't be so afraid," said the girl, her hands placed squarely upon her hips.

At that moment, she looked about thirty years older, and he half-expected her to begin scolding him about anything and everything he'd done over the course of the day. All in all, she was the spit and image of their caretakers, only about half as big and twice as feisty. Still, at least she never carried around one of those long wooden sticks which seemed to be endorsed oh-so-heavily by their Lord and Savior. He wasn't sure exactly where in that darn book it said that such strict punishments were necessary, but those ladies sure as hell seemed to believe it all the same. Pawing nervously at his shoulder, he wondered if perhaps his back still bore the telltale signs; the skin itself felt normal enough, and had since lost its blistering heat, but it was always hard to tell. Mirrors were not exactly common around these parts, after all.

Perhaps that strange boy might be able to sneak one in the next time he stopped by- or at least, he might, if he wasn't such a snobby little jerk. Even then, he wouldn't put it past the kid to throw them a bone just for the fun of it, like tossing scraps to a pack of starved dogs. Come to think of it, what was his name again...? Pascal, maybe? Usually, his memory was a bit sharper with this sort of thing, and so it seemed a testament to the extent of his disinterest in the affairs of that little priss. All he knew was that this 'Pascal' or whatever had been paying more and more visits lately- or rather, perhaps it was more accurate to say that it was Pascal's parents whom had taken to these visits. After all, Pascal himself couldn't be any older than eight or so. No, it was his folks whose interest had been aroused by their 'humble institution'. But for the love of all that was holy, if they could just keep that little monster at home-

"Congrats," said Azide, plopping down a sealed pair of flasks. Within the fragile glasses, liquid forests sloshed vigorously against their sloping sides, luminescing faintly all the while. While he wouldn't exactly call himself a cynic, he did happen to possess a rather dry sense of humor, and he had never considered himself too high and mighty to go for the obvious jokes. Two tweaks of alchemy- the finest low-quality health potions on the market, perfect for all those ailments that seemed to prey upon these young couples after their honeymoons.

Name: Alternative Health Potion
Type: Potion
Quality: Good
Effects: This potion is completely useless. But hey, it's organic and all natural.
Description: Hey man, watch out for Big-Alche! They're like, totally poisoning your body with those harsh chemicals. Take some of this, man. It's like, all natural, and will totally make you feel better.

Looking at the newly wedded couple, he had to admit that they seemed a different sort than the pair he'd been familiar with the most: namely, his own parents. But then again, it wasn't a particularly notable accomplishment to come off more pleasantly than mister and missus Navarre. This Tristan Delaney and his bride- they kissed, they hugged; they were clearly in love.

Against his own intentions, he smiled as his eyes caught sight of those of the married man; what he found within them was something too rarely seen around these parts. And it was a shame, really, that those twinkles had long ago faded from the eyes of most. What a statement it was, that one should surface in a simple gesture like this one, rather than in awe of landscape painted a little too perfectly by the fine brushes of Cardinal. It was reassuring to know that even Azure still had a bit of humanity left in them- humanity would keep them honest.

Flicking his eyes over to the side, his sights landed upon a certain other Commandant of the Brigade. For a moment, he said nothing, did nothing; he simply stared at the boy. Finally, he nodded once at Aincrad's alleged hero, before turning back to the grandiose gates of the great Cathedral. Without another word spoken, he took his leave.

"Just what I was thinking," said Azide. As they drifted within reach of the massive creature, he gave a nod to the swordsman before raising himself to his feet once more. Again, the position was an exceedingly precarious one, but he wasn't exactly left with a lot of options when it came to this boat-bound combat. Somehow, this wasn't exactly the sort of scenario he pictured whenever the phrase 'naval warfare' came to mind.

Before long, he found himself locking eyes with the beast itself as the creature managed a turn of its massive head. Or rather, it was a single eye which met his gaze- a glassy, horrible thing which bled into the night with a sickly, glowing light. With a proportion which dwarfed even that of a giant squid, the sight of that beastly orb left him entranced. So entranced, in fact, that he'd hardly noticed the whipping tale which had come so close that the resulting breeze had left his hair sufficiently rustled.

After taking a moment to regain his balance, he shook his head as his fingers steadied around the grip of his weapon. Now was hardly the time to become distracted. Shifting his blade into place, the stance was recognized by the system a mere instant later, cloaking his blade in a shining red. Four times he spun, four times he hit; as the art came to an end, he watched as the creature's health plunged by a generous amount. 

"I doubt that this makes a significant difference in our plans," he remarked, shooting a glance at the end of his dagger. He hadn't missed the obvious signs during the assault itself, but even now, sparks crept along the length of the darkened steel. "But it would appear that our friend here is immune to paralysis."

---

ID: 39838 | CD: 6 | BD: 10 (Crit +2) | MD: 5 (Miss)

<<Eternal Cyclone>> used (4 x 4)[10 + 2 (BD 10)] = 192 DMG

Party Info

Azide: 141/141 HP | 17/34 EN (+1)(-16) | 3 Hate

Calrex: 193/193 HP | 36/47 EN | 2 Hate

Enemy Info

<<Galvanic Snapper>> [|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||] [|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||] 355/700 HP (WR)