Elora

♫ The Hand of Fate ♫

A trembling hand raised to cover Elora's mouth as she stared crestfallen at the haunting claw marks. Scars carved so broadly across his body she could hardly imagine its remains. Anything indicative of Freyd would have been lost to a corpse maimed beyond recognition. Shrill whimpers mourned the scene of his demise, her pain scarcely disguised beneath the veil of a palm. A sharp drawing in of her breath could not recall the tears that were pouring from her face. Grief beckoned her to tear her sights away from him, to deny confrontation with a reality too gruesome to come to terms with. Instead, she found herself immobilized by a gripping fear, a sinking terror that if she abandoned him now, there would be nothing left to return to. 

“All I saw was a flash...", he began to describe, "There was a hum, like the dying ambient charge of a monitor being turned off, the last potential energy ebbing from its circuits and fading."

Memories of her own demise at The Storm's behest coursed through her, flooding slumbering synapses like a sudden spell of deja vu. She could recall every sensation, feel them submerging her body. Coldness, stinging, asphyxiation. Then, a numbing rush of dread as the final traces of hope were forcibly extinguished. Elora had been made to spectate all of her failures. Every part of her she desperately tried to reject, every potential future she had inevitably fucked up.

Except...she had survived to experience that very future. In the wake of indescribable suffering, she had been given another chance, the gift to continue living. Is it possible to mourn the loss of something that is yet to come...?, she found herself asking. Years flowed by as she continued to write her story. Through daily efforts to become that idealized self, she had undertaken new responsibilities, confronted the shadows of her own past, allowed herself to be loved by the people she treasured most. How many more adventures would she truly taste...how many more tomorrows could they hope to go on living?

"...I’m ashamed that I chose to save a friend instead of choosing to come back to the woman who means more to me than the world itself.”, Freyd softly spoke.

On the not-so-distant horizon, death loomed like an all-consuming wall of darkness behind their celestial dance. Encroaching and inevitable, it would seldom claim them both. There was an unspoken comfort in the delusion of that unified departure. Surely, two souls bonded in life would make their exit much the same. They both understood the folly of that wish, lamented in the harrowing loss of that fated separation. When the other had vanished completely, there would be nothing left but the brightest and darkest memories of times once shared; the minutia of what transpired in between lost to the static of a faintly-held impression fading into bitter obscurity. What was left of the future would remain unwritten, resigned to a figment of what would never be.

Pleading gasps dissipated like the ghosts of false assurances, her throat constricting as she struggled to digest the impermanence of it all. With a shaking hand, she retraced the edges of his jaw. Her eyes affixed on each detail, she seemed to search his features, study every blemish and contour of his face. How could she hope to memorize the smile lines of a man who was ever-changing?

"If not by your hand, then by whose...?", she barely managed to speak, a faint smirk curling from the corner of her lip. "Never be ashamed of who you are, or for the action you take, Freyd. You are so brave, and so selfless...", she trailed off, swallowing dryly, "You are -- the most important part of life. The reason I have kept on living, the reason I will continue to --" 

Another pang of despair.

"My greatest sadness will be an absence of you.", she sincerely admitted.

Truthfully, she was on her way home from seeing Mina, not on her way out to meet her. However, Kyoto didn't know that, and she'd make no effort to correct him. "Hmmm...", she hummed as if pretending to consider, her weight shifting from one side to the other, "Not sure, what would we need to do?" Reaping rewards or helping other's for virtue's sake was beyond her interest. Instead, passing time with good company, becoming lost in the motions of a fun activity, seemed far more appealing. Though, she was inclined to assume this case would be much closer to the later than the former.

Hopping down from an oversized slab of metamorphic bedrock, she made her way closer to him. Eyes seemed to stare him up in down as if inspecting his gear, measuring his resolve. He doesn't seem particularly strong. It makes sense that he could use an extra hand in combat, if we needed to defeat an enemy.

Elora squirmed her way out of Freyd's dreamy embrace as avoidant stoicism began to falter. For as much as she wished to savor the sweetness of their reunion, she understood what a moment like this demanded of her.

No -- not what it demanded of her, but what she would demand of herself. In countless interactions past, Freyd had lent her an ear to listen, extended a hand to hold, given her a shoulder to cry on. How long had he meant to go on, carrying the burdens of others to the complete and utter detriment of himself? How long would he continue still...cherishing that servitude, honoring his commitment to rescue anyone, no matter the cost?

As he croaked out the name of his surviving comrade, Elora slung an arm around his waist, the other lifted to cradle his head against her own. Bittersweet tears welled within her eyes as she became captivated by the beauty of it all. How beautiful he was...

If only I can be...even a fraction of what he is to me..., she thought with forced conviction. The briefest flash of her former self insisted that she didn't deserve him. That none of them deserved him.

Freyd had taught her better than that.

"It's ok...", she softly stated. Spoken carefully, the phrase conveyed no dismissal of his feelings, no false promise of a rapturous remedy. Elora understood all too well the importance of allowing emotions to flow through oneself. Avoiding their causation, sequestering their presence, did little to heal an aching heart. Wrapping her arms tightly, fervently around him, she drew him nearer still. What more could she offer to someone who had given so much? Reassurances felt feeble and seemed so misplaced.

With a silent, steady sway, she guided them away from their door toward the rugged foundation of cobblestones below. Held together by a network of concrete, each disparate stone and its fractured pieces remained fused, resolute in their purpose of persisting as one. In spite of everything he had witnessed, every excruciating sensation he had endured, Freyd had made it home to her.  No words could describe such true, tempered strength; no embrace a measured repayment of its unwavering support. Instead, she would offer him the same grace once afforded to her, the recognition of a battle well-fought, its honor, the release from his obligations.

"Let it all out", she gently consoled.

She bit her lip as affirmations fell shy of escape. Replacing their agreement with a nod of understanding would have to suffice. Sweating palms rubbed deeply into her knees as Elora began to mull over her early life in Aincrad and how it contrasted with the person she was today. In a lot of ways, she felt just like that scared, defeated young girl. Days continued to feel overwhelming, too great a challenge for her capacities. At least, that's how it seemed. Leveling up and obtaining gear fell short of fulfillment in so many aspects. If everything around her kept becoming more powerful, every other Frontliner stronger than before, how could she ever expect to keep up?

A gloved hand reached across to wrap around Katoka's playful punch, cradling it from whatever outside influence this stupid game might manifest to tear them apart. "It's still an escape, for me...", confessed Elora. With a forced gulp of air, she attempted to force down whatever emotions had begun to surge within her. "You don't have to feel sorry, you're...so strong -- and determined -- and beautiful.", she shakily admitted, "When we first met -- I think I saw it in you right away...And I almost...hated you for it." Hand squeezing firmly around her's, Elora willed herself to turn and face Katoka. "You've always been what I could never become... somehow, I managed to keep up with you in training, but...I've never been able to have your resolve...or to possess the kind of selflessness that you do..." 

Tears began to trickle down Elora's cheeks as she shifted awkwardly in her seat, her eyes darting away to some distant distraction. "Look -- even now, I had to turn this into something about me...", she seemed to deflate at saying. 

"You're...more than you can ever recognize, Kat. More than...anyone else can ever recognize..."

"I know...", she softly assured as a curious hand traced the edges of his jaw, her thumb pressing back hairs to glimpse the corners of a frail smile. Reaching back further, she pushed past the folds of his cowl to offer a congratulatory pat to... Oh, Persi's not here., thought Elora, She must be off exploring someplace...? Sights lifted to interlock with Freyd's as his features slowly sunk into a somber disposition. Behind the fading mirth of those pale blue orbs, she swore she could watch the spirit of something...breaking within him.

Unburdened from all of his armor, yet carrying the weight of a loss so much heavier, Freyd appeared more fractured now than she had ever seen him. Gone was the pride of a well-earned victory, absent the playful demeanor she had come to associate with him. Instead, he appeared completely exhausted, on the brink of fighting back tears. 

"Freyd...", she began before his arms had suddenly lifted her into the air.

"Did you feel anything while I was away?", he posed the question to curtail her rising concern, "Get any systems notifications or have anything happen to the house?" 

Notifications?, her mind began, its audit prematurely cauterized by the heat of a kiss. Elora found herself clinging tightly to his neck, her worries suspended in a moment of pure passion as he carried her to their house. Wispy green and gray hairs draped to rest between them, her lips struggling to bid purchase behind the interference of those and other haphazardly-curling facial hairs.

Finally reaching the threshold of their door, she pulled herself back from his fervent embrace. "Freyd, I --", she gasped to chase after her breath and whatever else she had meant to answer. "Everything's fine...", she quickly insisted, "you don't need to worry, please --" Doting eyes were eclipsed by a serious expression as her hand rose to intercept the path of another kiss. "Turn that analytical mind of your's off for just a second -- what happened out there? Are you...", she trailed off before asking,

"What happened?"

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

For days, the constant pings of pointless notifications had eaten away at her. The longer she'd waited to hear from Freyd, the more restless she had become. Every obsessive visit to her menu, every hopeful glance at the sender's username, had paired with another shattered expectation. That was, until...

Elora was out of her seat in a matter of seconds. Finally --, she breathed a sigh of relief as lingering nervous energy swelled within her, He's alive -- "They did it!", she found herself rejoicing to no one in particular, her hands balling up into fists of victory. Borris, a small rock familiar that Elora wore over her wrist, gave a supportive squeeze in celebration.

"I need to get ready -- I think --", she stammered as energy overloaded her capacity to act, "I should brush my hair -- change into something nice? No, he won't be gone much longer -- will he?"  Confused steps carried her first toward the bedroom, then the kitchen. "What if he's hungry? Should I make him something to eat? A warrior's meal or something -- what's his favorite dish??" Options stumbled through her mind like a slot machine barreling toward a mismatched outcome, even worse -- the dubious sway of a wasted bloke making a break for the furthest bathroom stall. 

RICE!, her conscious finally decided with the conviction of screeching tires. "Shit -- I gotta make rice! Rice from the greenhouse -- I have time to grab some!"

Rushing out toward the gardens, she'd nearly missed the glint of something bobbing near the property's outskirts. Eyes snapping to survey the shiny distraction, an accompanying hand raised to block the sun's beams from obscuring her vision. Slow observation distinguished dark armored plating, their occupant dawning a head of...White hair...?, thought Elora confusedly, What's...Kil doing here...?" 

Momentary concern became vignetted by a barrage of questions. Is he...here to visit? Why didn't he message me first? Does Freyd know he's...? As the person drew nearer, her thoughts transitioned from complete befuddlement to an uncanny recognition. He walks just like...

"...Freyd?", Elora called out, her voice made louder to accommodate for the distance that remained between them.

Clanking metal echoed from within the canyon's cliffs, their cold, accursed chorus now the heartwarming anthem of a loved one returned from war. Before she could think, her heels had carried her forward, her heart aching to reconnect with the other it had scarcely lost.

"FREYD!!", she cried again, this time with giddy enthusiasm.

Unruly hair draped loosely down Elora's shoulders, the makings of her usual armor replaced by the fabric of an oversized shirt. A reunion begged no time to conceal what she'd worn in his absence. It seemed that had proven true in both of their cases. 

Finally reunited beside the gate to their home, arms shot outwards to sling around his neck. 

"Welcome home!!", she greeted him with glee.

***

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 110/110 | DMG: 21 | MIT:78 | ACC:5 | AA | EVA:1 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2

"Two things can be true at once.", she called down playfully, "And you did put on a rather good performance." The flirtation of her tone was palpable, mirrored in the sensuality of her posture as she stood and leaned to the side with a smug disposition. Eyes narrowed as she searched his expression, a hand draped proudly over one hip. "How do you suppose I should get down from up here?", the genuine question came slathered with a layer of sarcasm.

The earliest hints of morning light began to seep into the atmosphere, submerging its deep blue clouds in a halo of cerulean. As songbirds began to stir from their nests, Elora found herself missing the same. This day had been so much longer, more arduous, more beautiful than she ever could of imagined. In that moment, it felt as if she could sense all of her muscles relaxing, the crisp morning air washing over her body like a revitalizing wave of acceptance. With it, she felt a profound sense of serenity, of gratitude for everything they'd endured and overcome. A cleansing breath carried with it the promise of a brighter future, a steady exhale, the severing of whatever inhibitions still remained.

Carrying her gaze off toward the trunk, she studied a series of branches that dappled the length of the tree. It only seemed appropriate that she embarked on the slow, arduous task of scaling each in an effort to reach the ground. Still, something about that mental picture didn't seem very...heroic, nor enchanting. After all, Freyd had already expended so great an effort to please her gaze. It would only be fair for her to return the favor.

Taking a few, careful steps back, Elora dashed forward and made a dramatic leap from the edge of the bow. The fabric of her cloak billowed and rippled in the wind, streaming like a flame behind her as it caught orange slivers of the encroaching sunrise. Just for show, she anticipated the entrance into a belated front-flip. Oh how she would loved to see his face in that moment.

With legs returning to a parallel just before her landing, she straddled them to either side of his torso, knocking him off of his feet and carrying them both to the ground in one, decisive motion. Hands clasped firmly around his shoulders had given way to the impact, collapsing both of her elbows to rest enclosed on either side of his head. Huffs of amazement at her own abilities quickly dissipated as she drew nearer to him with an eager suggestion, 

"Let's say we find someplace to spend the night."

After a series of sharp gasps, Elora finally managed to regain her composure. She couldn't remember the last time she had fallen that far or hard. Actually, she could recall one such instance. Peeling herself up from the bark, she rolled over to check on how that case was fairing. Standing amongst a creaking heap of splintered branches and shedding needles, Elora began to wonder if Freyd would be just as talented at setting up a Christmas trees as he had been taking one down.

Speculation aside, she needed to find her own way down to him. Not because she thought he couldn't handle the fight, but because she would look like a weak ass punk if she sat on her hands while he faced off with a bear.

Then again...she did have an excellent view of the battlefield from this vantage. Maybe, just once..., she decided with a smirk. Turning over to lay on her stomach, she propped her chin up on scratched forearms to watch him deliver the finishing blow. 

***

Post Action | AoE-II (x18, 14 EN +2 shift, +2/hit): 18 EN - (Rested 1/2; Stamina) = 15 EN
Free Action [Skill] | Grappling Familiar (CD 0/5)

ID #239175 | BD: 10, Miss

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 100/110 (+4)(-2) | DMG: 24 | MIT:78 | ACC: 8 (incl AA) | AA | EVA:1 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2
Freyd | HP: 1280/1280 | EN: 148/160 (160-12) | DMG: 24 | MIT:152 | ACC:7 | F-SPIRIT | EVA:2 | BH:70 | VAMP-D: 70 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | LD:5   

[2,2] <<Kumatetsu>> HP: 333/1200 (405-32-40) | DMG: 170 | MIT: 25 (-20) | ACC: 0 | EVA: 2 | BEAST | BLGT 32 (0/2) | STC 40 (0/2) | F-STUN-IMM (1/3)

• Dodge and Parry | On a player's natural attack roll of 10, the attack will miss <<Kumatetsu>>. Instead <<Kumatetsu>> will gain a +2 Accuracy for his next attack. This buff will expire after the attack has been resolved.
• Beast Form | When <<Kumatetsu>> is reduced to 600 (or lower) health, he will transform and turn into a bulked-up creature, increasing his damage to 170, but also reducing his ACC by 1 and MIT to 25. 

Did he just --? Well that's one way to do it --, Elora gawked in dumfounded admiration as she felt the gargantuan tree begin to drift diagonally. An awestruck stare retraced Freyd's path of deliberate destruction, her heart swelling with pride and wonderment at what he was capable of. Or really, just him, actually. I can't believe he's really mine., she swooned over the thought.

A long, pitiful roar erupted from somewhere up above, shaking her mind free from its excessive ogling. Right., she blinked. There was an enemy to kill. "I don't know -- but Im about to beat him out of this tree like a goddamn piñata.", she snidely remarked.

Assessing her surroundings, Elora began to consider her approach. There was a subtle northeasterly wind, it's gust blowing at approximately -- Ah, fuck it., she decided as heels sprang from the branch beneath her. With one outstanding leap, she made her way onto the next closest limb, than another, until the entire slope beneath her had started to shift sideways. In a mad dash up the trunk, she dodged around protruding limbs and startled owls whose periscoping heads popping out of bark like wide-eyed whack-a-moles.

Further down her line of sight, a hulking silhouette shuddered pitifully under the glowing moonlight. Elora could practically hear herself winding up as she leaned back to line up the shot. With a loud CRACK of wood against flubber, the unsuspecting ursa went sailing across the length of the tree. Gravity truly was an invaluable assist.

At least, while it was still in your favor.

Harsh creeks signaled that the mighty pine's descent had finally surpassed its crest. In just mere moments, the outermost needles would snap under the insurmountable weight of everything that came to follow. In a panicked decision, Elora jumped from the felled giant, her body tumbling unceremoniously to the safety of another's lower wing.

For awhile, she laid there heaving, staring up at the astral body as she awaited air's to return her lungs.

***
Post Action: [x15] AOE-I (11 + 2(Enemy) + 2(Shift)= 15 EN)
Free Action: Admires Freyd's handiwork

ID# 239141 | BD 8+8= 16 - 2EVA = Hit | DMG: 15*33= 495 - 30 MIT = 465 DMG to Kumatetsu
*Blight and Static applied.

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 95/110 (-15) | DMG: 24 (+1 Crit, +8 Fallen) | MIT:78 | ACC: 8 (incl AA) | AA | EVA:1 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2
Freyd | HP: 1280/1280 | EN: 160/160 | DMG: 24 | MIT:152 | ACC:7 | F-SPIRIT | EVA:2 | BH:70 | VAMP-D: 70 | FLN: 16 | HLY: 16 | LD:4    

[2,0] <<Kumatetsu>> HP: 735/1200 | DMG: 155 | MIT: 50 (-20) | ACC: 1 | EVA: 2 | BLGT 32 (0/2) | STC 40 (0/2)
This boss uses its own BD roll when attacking.

Abilities:

Dodge and Parry | On a player's natural attack roll of 10, the attack will miss <<Kumatetsu>>. Instead <<Kumatetsu>> will gain a +2 Accuracy for his next attack. This buff will expire after the attack has been resolved.
Beast Form | When <<Kumatetsu>> is reduced to 600 (or lower) health, he will transform and turn into a bulked-up creature, increasing his damage to 170, but also reducing his ACC by 1 and MIT to 25. 

"You're not getting off that easy!", Elora heard him yell from a distance.

"Sounds like something a sloke-poke would say!", she called back from over her shoulder. Running like this, with the vigor of an olympic athlete or even the adrenaline of a frantic crackhead evading authority -- it made her feel invincible. Legs carried her faster than her mind could dream to keep up with, her feet leaping across the harmless chasm of a babbling brook.

The further they strayed from the Elven settlement, the more difficult it became to navigate in the dark. Perhaps navigate wasn't the right word. More like see a single goddamn thing. Their shared waypoint blinked steadily, as prominent as ever in her peripheral vision. Shouldn't we have reached it by now?, she wondered as the cursor seemed to linger above her.

Slowing her pace, she began to scan the foliage for any obvious monsters. Nothing significant seemed to be there, just a few rodents and bats that seemed to be minding their own business.

THUD!

Elora's soul nearly catapulted out of her skin as she let out a startled eep. With spear instantly in hand, she gave a cautionary jab toward the source of the sound, just for good measure.

Silence.

Curious by the lack of alerts, she slowly crept over to find...a giant pinecone laying on the ground. Now, Elora wasn't an expert in arboreal anatomy, but that seemed significantly larger than any other pinecone she'd encountered. Crouching down to admire its size, she'd estimate it to be about 1/3 an Elora long. 

THUD!, came the much louder sound of a nearer, and quite possibly, even larger pinecone.

"What the fuck --?", Elora exclaimed, her legs springing up in alarm. A consideration flashed across her mind. With head cocking all the way back, she stared up toward the tip of the tree. Speculative glances shot back and forth between its trunk and her menu as she appeared to compile the disperate information. 

"FREYD!", she finally announced, "I THINK THE BEAR IS IN THE AIR-- I MEAN, IT'S IN THE TREES!!" A dramatic leap toward the lowest limb began her reckless vertical climb.

***

Searching for Kumatetsu
ID: 239137, LD 12 Failed

Jittering fingers, nervous at first, draped calmly to cradle inside of Freyd's hands. A stifled breath held in surprise escaped from her lips as tension swiftly bled from her muscles. Drawn into his embrace, she suddenly felt so tired. Simultaneously alive and exhausted, Róisín wondered how many more battles they would be able to fight for themselves, and for each other. Honestly, she couldn't care any less. Raising a hand to comb through Freyd's hair, she placed a gentle hand beside his head. The hardships of her life, of being trapped in this stupid game fizzled away like the apparitions of those stunning festival lights. All that mattered to her right now was experiencing him.

For a moment, their faces drew even closer together, Róisín's cheeks radiating with the ferocious heat of a hundred suns. Soft lips, once so timid in their previous meetings, interlocked gently, tenderly as they savored one another's companionship. Feelings of serenity and security washed over her like the droplets of a purifying rain, a sort of baptism amidst the reconciliation of lingering regrets.

She thanked the Eyvinsung for its parting gift as shimmering stars danced from beneath her eyelids, their faces gradually drifting apart.

“You start by remembering all the good you’ve done, and can still go on to do,”, Freyd began, "You face your deepest  darkness and let it wash through you with acceptance.  It’s the only way.  And, last but most important, you admit to yourself that you are not alone, and never need to be.”

Her heart fluttered with juvenile delight at the idea. In a world full of drastic chance and certain devastation could he truly promise so much? Maybe not forever...but for right now -- that's all that matters. 

“I came to the same conclusion for myself, only a few moments ago, and it sounds like a good idea.", he continued, "The woman I love showed me how to do exactly that.  Maybe, if she'll let me, I can do the same for her?”

Oh gods. She was going to melt if this kept on. "I -- I'll show you what you can do --", she found herself stammering with uncharacteristic embarrassment. With a step back from their spot, her eyes suddenly made connection with a presence behind him. "Wait...what is that?", she asked as eyes widened in surprise.

Sparing no hesitation, Elora took precious advantage of whatever seconds she'd have. In only an instant, her heels had turned briskly, her legs sprinting toward the direction of a blinking waypoint. "AHAHAH!", she broke into a crafty cackle as his footsteps carried out behind her, "Works every time!" 

Cool moonlight slitted through the curled branches of lofty bushes, dewdrops clinging to the hairs of her arms as misty air trailed across her skin. A nebula of scattered stars stretched out above them while her feet struggled to dodge jutting roots and slippery moss.

"Let's see if you've still got it in you, old master.", came a defiant tease.

With each eager and successful step forward, Elora fought to inhale through an unrelinquishing bout of laughter. As she raced through the woodlands, evanescent energy blossomed and trailed behind her like a winding currant carving its own path across the landscape below. Shedding the midnight illusion of her real-life appearance, she returned to the emerald-haired elf this world had come to know her as.
 

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

***

Who will win the race? (Vanity Roll)
ID:239125, BD: 8

Ragged, guttural screams escaped from Elora's lungs as futile attacks failed to unmake the thing before her. A creature so repugnant, so vitriolic, it deserved no mercy, no right to exist. Nothing about her was right. How many times had she undertaken this very form? How many times had she broken another person just to feel better about herself? Her life was an endless cycle of being hurt, inflicting pain, justifying her actions. She had never been to blame, she could never have been at fault.

A monster., echoed her mind's accusation, "You have never cared. You stupid, selfish cunt."

The words cut through her like a blade, reopening an old wound she'd prayed was finally healed. A rising bout of regret bolstered a wave of fear as Elora drew in a stifled breath. With a trembling hand raised to rest upon her heart, she reminded herself of who she really was, who she would will herself to be. I can face this..., she thought as an expectant glance lead her to the depths of shadow's core.

"Mom...?", she called out, her voice small and afraid. At first, a cautious step forward. The oppressive umbra slowly closed in around her like a predator circling its pray. From a small distance ahead, Elora could see the makings of a familiar visage. Sculpted from the void, its face appeared uncanny, and yet, so completely recognizable. Stern eyebrows arched dramatically over a pair of tired eyes, their deep blue irises framed by the bangs of frazzled brown, but graying hair.  "Mom --!", she exclaimed again as momentary hesitation was usurped by unbridled joy. Another chance. How many years had it been? How long since she had heard her mother's voice? Like a sailor lured by a siren's call, Elora rushed forward, her feet trudging through a layer of stagnant water.

Reaching out in a desperate embrace, she sought to rectify her actions of the past, "I -- I'm so sorry, I never should have said what I did -- I don't know what came over me I just --" With a sudden jerk, her mother's hand shot forward, grabbing and yanking her to the side. Elora cried in surprise, her arm instinctively raising to shied herself from further attacks.

"You're a mistake!", the woman hissed, her grip tightening and forcing Elora to the ground. Terrified whimpers escaped her throat as she collapsed into the murky water, her mind a panic with memories of the storm.

"Stop -- please! You're hurting me! I -- I don't want to fight you!", she pleaded. Despite her wistful intensions, Elora was already scrambling to summon her weapon.

"So now you care about who you hurt?", her mother's brief amusement quickly reverted back to anger, "Do you know how much I tried to help you? How many times I had to fix whatever you fucked up? Why couldn't you just be like your brother, even once?" Shooting pain coursed throughout Elora's body as sinuous vines spawned from the shadows below, their phantom thorns piercing and anchoring her limbs to the ground.

"That's not fair!", she half-cried, half-yelled as the barbs dug into her, "I was just a kid, and I was trying my best --"

"It's never fair, is it Róisín? Life can never go the way you want it to --"

"No -- NO! This isn't fair. I don't deserve to be treated like this by you -- by anyone!", she yelled, struggling to remain above the advancing darkness.

"All you needed was to apply yourself --"

"All I needed was to feel LOVED!", her voice broke as realization finally washed over her, "And that isn't selfish! I wanted to be like Liam, to make you and Dad like me, even a little --" 

"Your father and I loved you, Róisín..."

"Then WHY did you give up on me?", came the heartbreaking question.

As if awakening from a dream, the darkness surrounding her appeared to retreat, its presence streaming away like the roots of a dying tree. No -- NO, NOT NOW!, Elora begged. Tearing herself free what what remained of her binds, she hauled herself from the water, desperately splashing toward the promise of a fading image.

"ANSWER ME!", she screamed as a maelstrom of light erupted around her. 
 

♫ Róisín's Theme ♫
 

The shadow's futile attacks devolved into helpless swings as its hold over Róisín appeared to waver. What had previously sounded like a series of low-pitched growls had been reduced to a plight of pathetic whimpers. As the last visages of shadow bled from Róisín's features, she stumbled forward, colliding into Freyd's chest. Shaking hands searched for something recognizable to steady her from the rush of confused senses. They swiftly found their purchase, swinging under each of his arms to bury herself in his shoulder.

"Let it out", he gently guided her.

Streams of light and shadow arose into the night, their etherial essences coalescing into a borealis above them. Suspended in a river of darkness, the light began to unfurl and explore its domain, twisting and weaving itself through the celestial fabric to craft the story of a lonely girl. At first a rosebud of light, she shown powerfully and beautifully in a world far too harsh for her to flourish. Róisín watched in despair as the companion presence of a luminous green beacon gradually began to dwindle, its heart soon flooded by the influence of a destructive shadow. From the dance between their two halves, both could see the impressions of several arguments, with each, the dimming of a small, and fragile, blue flame. Her mother's life, an endless cycle of being hurt, inflicting pain, justifying her actions, had taken its toll on Róisín. Alone in a sea of darkness, she faced a choice: to continue fighting, or to accept what they had wanted her to be.

Stupid. Selfish. A punching bag for a man who had never wanted a daughter.

Insults whispered like words of affirmation that slowly, surely ensnared her in a web of self-destruction. The burgeoning flame flickered, then extinguished itself entirely.

"For the longest time...", Róisín began, her eyes fixed on the depictions of the past, "I thought that I was worthless...because I could never be smart enough, calm enough, right enough not to be hated..." She continued, "And the more that they hurt me, the more I thought that I deserved it." 

Turning to face him with those deep, sad eyes, Freyd could see the edges of her ears begin to evaporate. "If it wasn't my fault, then that means --", she swallowed painfully as her voice refused to speak the truth, "I-it was always easier to give them a reason..."

And so, she had become the very thing she feared the most, a person who tread through life knowing nothing but anger. Boasting to protect a shattered sense of self, lashing out in venomous jealously to undermine others' successes, viciously putting down anyone to position herself on a pedestal. For all she had known, the competition was necessary for survival. 

When that breaking point had finally been breeched, she'd unleashed her rage on Elora. The scene around them transformed into an explosive argument, a desolate silhouette screaming before a backdrop of blinding emotion. She'd strewn bitter hatred, cast fistfuls of heinous affliction against a former best friend who had dared to have what she deserved. 

Rolling tears dribbled down the face of a fearsome elven warrior who's facade had fatefully faded. Dying embers of light carried away what little remained of verdant emerald hair, revealing the auburn locks of Róisín's true appearance. 

"How can I ever hope to undo the pain that I've caused...?", she choked, drawing both hands back to cover her face.

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

Sharp, distorted pulses of light coursed through her in harmony with a faltering heartbeat. Exhausted in her endless attempt to escape from the past, she had finally been outpaced. Frozen in the wake of impending judgement, she felt afraid, ashamed, furious, despondent -- the monstrous result of a thousand feelings too overwhelming to handle. Apathy seemed a welcome grace, another means to barter for additional time.

But Elora understood that was no longer an option. She had given up on its numbing severance many lives ago. So many precious relationships. A thousand small decisions to confront the parts of her she loathed...they'd granted her the strength to see this through. Stepping to the cadence of a silent rhythm, she guided their pace to the side. Fateful winds began to whisper through the leaves, bending and cracking the bows of trees. Their branches leaned in like a captivated audience as airstreams chased around them, cradling a sacred pact. Chirping crickets and cooing owls began to metamorpihize into a sort of symphony. As Elora led their gentle sway, she was careful not to fumble. Years of training with the spear had undoubtedly assured her footing, sparing toes from becoming crushed. With a final, steadying breath, her sights fell onto his.

Brilliant blue luminance erupted around them, streaming and rippling outward to become an ocean of light. Like serpents swimming through a celestial current, wandering vapors wove themselves into a tapestry of ephemeral images. From within Freyd's eyes, she could see the makings of an ideal. A dynamic, vibrant, and beautiful beacon bursting through a world that could never snuff her out. Unbridled by inner expectations and vicious chastisement, she touched the soul of everything she encountered. Rising and falling in fitful waves of emotion, she was no longer a vessel rocked by sea, but the very tide itself. Those evanescent streams carried with them the songs of passion and triumph. 

Another step forward guided them away from transcendental brilliance toward the sinister clutches of her greatest nightmares. Beyond her partner's protective embrace, a looming shadow advanced upon them like a tsunami. Falling in cadence with Freyd's beckoning hand, they plunged into a realm of despair. Deafening static rushed to cauterize all sensation. Shooting out like pressure points, a million pinpricks of shadow pierced Elora's skin. Phantom smoke billowed and coiled around her head in a suffocating miasma. From every corner of demise came an oppressive roar, gnawing hatred vocalized as a warning to all who came near. Static screeched and crackled off, distorting into a torrent of snarled ravings as Elora fought to gauge them from her mind.

Avalanching thoughts. An endless barrage of agony. No living creature was meant to withstand the lashes of a thousand stinging wounds. Darkness began its handiwork, carving viscous marks through Elora's features as her grip tightened around Freyd. From behind the hissing fog he could hear the sounds of a whimper then. Razored teeth lunged before him, jerking Elora forward and towing her toward his heart. Like a beast out for blood, she became a monster intent on claiming its next kill. The momentum spun them forward, staggering steps as thorn-like claws attempted to mar him in retaliation. 

"I HATE YOU!"

"I HATE YOU!"

"I HATE YOU!!"

, cried a voice that was not her own.

♫ A Ballad Between Light and Darkness ♫

Faintly silhouetted by glows from behind, Freyd would be able to see Elora's ears draw downwards at the revelation. Her eyes, now softly illuminated from her own trembling flame, held deep, reverential sadness. A small part of her was surprised by the gravity of this moment. She'd searched for years...only to arrive at an answer understood from the very beginning. Standing before her now, Freyd seemed...so human to her. He was a kaleidoscope of fractured pieces, the most complete person she'd ever met. His heart remained hardened, camouflaged by the clearest pain she'd ever recognized. He was a stranger withdrawn to the shadows and the brightest part of her life. A paradox through and through, he served as an anchor to her. Tethered to nothing, perhaps not even a long-repressed sense of self, both of them remained endlessly adrift. How could something so messy, so utterly disfigured by the experiences of the past, establish the strongest bond she'd come to know?

From within herself, a cerulean light began to unfurl, timidly twisting outwards as she extended a hand forward. It was a risk to take such steps, at least, that's how it had always seemed to her. Until tonight she could never confirm whether or not what she saw was a soul in earnest or an impenetrable illusion. Would he grant her one final judgement?

Placing her palm to his chest, she could sense the material impression of a moment shared together. That day he'd relinquished a piece of himself, however intentional the decision. Together, they held the shadowed rose closely, cherished the fragile trust and balance that it represented. Though opposite in many ways, both had undertaken a journey to uncover the source of each other's hardships, a mirrored dissection of their own inner convictions.

Freyd was more at home in the shadows, the subconscious realm that terrified Róisín the most. Elora thrived in the light, the daily thrills and distractions that Takeshi so often retreated from. Neither had any reason to change, except in their pursuit to understand and love one another. For as much time as she had spent running away from the darkness...she had never been afraid of him. 

Inner light flickered as Elora gradually came to terms with a truth she'd buried long ago.

"I don't know how to face myself.", she quietly said. Spoken with sincerity, the statement hung perfectly suspended between a shared admission and a plea for help. With a shaking hand, she traced the cap of his shoulder, then the length of his arm. Wisps of light spilled from her fingertips like smoke as their columns rose to clamber around his limbs in an ethereal embrace. In search of a tether, she took his hand once more, raising the other to offer him the choice.

Elora's heartflame began to ripple in uncertainty, its rays of light trailing off to dissipate in congruity with unspoken vulnerability.

Eyes widened as Elora's head cocked sideways to follow the materialization of his ears. What a bizarre world they lived in that such a thing could even be considered. Freyd's calculating mind felt a similar enigma, though one she found amusement in spectating. In a way, it was like watching the gears of a machine turn in  -- No, realized Elora, Like an overly-engineered sequence of events. A doting smile drew to her lips as she imagined gerry-rigged levers and pulleys setting off miscellaneous contraptions, their tedious systems tripping in service of an underwhelming result. Brewing a cup of coffee...

What was it they were talking about?

A sudden shift in atmosphere roused her from repeating the same mistake as earlier. With a careful step around Freyd, Elora could glimpse the soft halos from hundreds of buggy lanterns whirring above them. Disturbing. But also resourceful., she admired to herself.

The usual rumble of rowdy players seemed subdued. Barely louder than a hushed mumble, she could almost pretend that they were merely standing beside a rushing river. Attendees strolled and streamed between the foot of grandfather trees much the same. A crisp cold blanket of air began to lift from the ground just as the sun made its programmed dip below an obscured horizon.

"Daedhrog?", an excitable voice broke through the murmur.

"A what?", Elora asked in confusion. Dead hog? For dinner? Burgeoning enthusiasm was curtailed as soon as she recognized the expression as an Elvish greeting. And one...not directed at her?

"You've come to Eyvinsung, and not a moment too late!", the NPC assured to Freyd, "The dance is about to start."

"Ohhh, so that's what's going on.", Elora sighed discontentedly. She'd never been much of a dancer, at least, not in these kinds of settings. Crazy, upbeat ragers with a barrel of booze were more well suited to her interest than...

The forest around them became submerged in darkness. Elora could feel her heart begin to race amidst the oohs and wows of awestruck observers. Instinct called her to reach out for Freyd, closing the distance between them with the panicked tug of a hand. 

"I-is this supposed to happen?", she asked him, her grip closing evermore tightly. 

The stupid NPC cackled nearby. "New beginnings are often birthed from the darkness.", he advised, "Be still and listen to yourself. There are no expectations here."

Yeah. Sure., thought Elora, Exactly like last time. Nothing beats the cold, dead embrace of screaming shadows.

Peeling away from Freyd, she glanced back in the direction of the crowds. And she swore that she could see...faint bobbing lights. Squinting, she took a few cautious steps forward. Surely enough, there were people holding lanterns of some kind. Except, they seemed to be made of entirely different materials, their contents flickering in an array of colors.

"Look Freyd,", she said, attempting to point through the darkness, "Those people have lit some lanterns." A quiet combination of sounds seemed to weave into gentle rhythm as players invited one another to dance. Taking his hand, she lead them toward the gathering, her mind determined to secure a lantern for their quest. It was only in drawing nearer that Elora could truly see what was happening.

Small, beautiful lights appeared to be lit from within the players who moved about the forest floor. Like some sort of dragon, each seemed to glow with the intensity of a hearth. 

"Oh.", she said, surprised, "That's not what I was expecting." From below Elora's own collar came a faint glow that cloistered upon seeing the others. Showing too dimly for her to realize, she turned to regard Freyd's instead.

♫ The Start of Eyvinsung ♫

"Yeah, all good.", came a frazzled but light-hearted response. A nearby sign post intercepted Elora's fall, steadying her from fated matrimony with the cobblestones below. She spared only a moment to reorient herself before turning to apologize to the unseen pedestrian.

"Sorry --", Elora stammered as her sights settled on a notable feature. From beneath dark, tightly coiled locks protruded a set of pointed ears. The player standing before them calmly rubbed the soreness from her ebony shoulder as Elora began to gawk in surprise. Wearing deep blue armor with golden ornamentation, she appeared more like the game's rendition of a goddess than a common foot solder.

"I like your ears --", came the awkward voicing of Elora's observation.

"Oh--!", the woman gave a surprised laugh, "Thank you! I was wearin' them for the festival but forgot to take 'em off!" With a swift summoning of her menu, the cosmetic ears vanished from beside her head. "Looks like you're headed there yourself. Well no need to hurry, you've got plenty of time to make it."

Feigned appreciation quickly eclipsed immediate befuddlement as Elora broke into nervous giggles. "Yeah -- sorry again --", she agreed before shooting Freyd an urgent look. Surely enough, her intent for departure had been communicated.

A candid goodbye presented enough distance to abandon the act. "Do you have any idea what she was talking about? Some sort of elaborate costume party?", Elora asked in a conspiratorial tone.

placeholder

***

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 110/110 | DMG: 21 | MIT:78 | ACC:5 | AA | EVA:1 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2

In direct continuation of Scents of the Wild: Part I...

Scents of the Wild: Part II
 

Stammering seemed the only recourse for such an accusation, no, a revelation. Perhaps she wasn't ready for it, wasn't prepared to confront everything that it carried. Muscles ran their course, contracting and shying away from the uncomfortable truth. Her eyes had already begun their search for safe haven. Before she could retreat, Freyd had closed the distance between them. A careful hand lifted to cradle her chin. She cursed at his bravery.

Sweeping away whips of hair, he beckoned her eyes toward him. Elora couldn't imagine how haggard she looked. Her face felt a fire, her exhausted eyes swollen from crying. Even now, it felt a preferable facade to anything that laid beneath. Lord knows this world made their features tuned to perfection, their bodies sculpted for desire. 

"I could never hate you, Elora.", he began as her gaze remained adrift, "If our world ended tomorrow, I'd be forever grateful because you've made me a better person.  Maybe even just a person at all..." Slowly, her guard began to fall as hands relaxed to drape over his arms. "Forget worrying about who's in whose debt, or what clouds or rain the future might bring.  Let's allow ourselves the luxury of letting that feeling sink in, knowing what we mean to each other..." 

"Yeah...", she hesitantly agreed. Perhaps too eagerly, she'd taken the tablet he offered to her. Sparing a glance to confirm his company, the pair began their journey toward the next objective. 

Silence hung between them for a time as Elora maintained a half pace ahead, her mind alight with contemplation. Inner voices slurried into a stew of nonsense. What first seemed a productive examination had quickly devolved into regret for her behavior, anger at his assertions, shame for misplaced retaliation. Somehow, the ritual seemed simultaneously as overwhelming as it did cathartic. A well-worn path offered familiar conclusions that brazen actions could never achieve. At least in her own mind, she was in control of everything that came and passed through it.

Wasn't she...?

Before she had realized, the two of them reentered the Town of Beginnings. Afternoon rush swelled crowds past their usual numbers as adventurers retired to ramshackle taverns to redeem their hard-earned spoils. An unobservant collision with another player sent her fumbling forward, snapping her awareness back to the present. 

***
 

Elora consumes:

Gugnir’s Shard (Untradeable/Unique/Reusable Consumable): Crème Brûlée Tray | ACC 2 | Feast (5/6) - takes 1 portion [Filled]
Draft of Keen Edge | Tierless | Perfect Potion | Damage 3 | 235936

Gives Elora: Draft of Keen Edge | Tierless | Perfect Potion | Damage 3 | 235937
 

Elora | HP: 760/760 | EN: 110/110 | DMG: 24 | MIT:78 | ACC:7 | AA | EVA:1 | BH:38 | REC: 4 | FLN: 8 | BLI: 32/-20 | STC: 40 | LD:2

Elora seemed to give pause in their search as intrigue coaxed her to consider Freyd's response. Initially, she was confused by his concern for harming her. An armored fist and a pointy stick assured that a lovers' spat, no matter how impassioned, would find his feet swept out from beneath him, his ass planted squarely on the ground. Somehow, she doubted that was his actual concern. 

"I...", she began, still piecing together her thoughts, "Think that's part of it, yes..." Fingers thrummed across hands withdrawn as each prodded and intertwined with one another in a flurry of nervous configuration. "But I think -- I don't know -- I almost feel like, I'm not so worried about hurting you, as I am...", she sighed as all of her thoughts began to scramble.

"There's a lot that I'm scared of -- not you, Freyd. I don't want to hurt you, and yeah -- I'm worried about losing you." Her posture shifted once again, ushering a hand to comb through frazzled hairs while the other reached diagonally across her stomach. "But I'd like to hope that -- I don't want to be someone you hate." 

Elora's mouth reopened as further words fell silent at the edges of her lips. No matter how much she stalled to mull over her emotions, it rarely seemed enough. Time remained her greatest enemy. Pure, unfiltered outbursts were as incomprehensible as poorly-articulated explanations. Somehow, she'd once again struck an infuriating balance between the two. 

***

Decipher puzzle.  ID 237771 | LD 19+56  | LD 56+19 = 75
Puzzle has been solved!

She found herself leaning down, drawn in to inspect the drawing more closely. Kingsley wasn't exactly short, moreso hunched, in that old and dilapidated-but-also-kind-of-endearing sort of way. Special care was paid to avoid harpooning the old man's eyes with her one of her cosmetically-elongated ears. The endeavor proved more difficult than she'd anticipated, what with the carriage bouncing and swaying from each gentle embrace with a pothole below.

As her vision came to focus, she was able to distinguish the delicate pen strokes that created the flower. "It's pretty", she noted with a faint smile than began to broaden with his explanation. 

"We?", came her belated realization, "You're planning to share?" It seemed a simple invitation, though one she wouldn't have expected from a complete stranger. Then again, he had introduced himself by divulging a personal memory to her. Maybe he doesn't have his guard up, doesn't know any better..., she speculated as they disembarked onto a forested path.

"Glow Mushrooms from the Endless Caverns mix very similarly with earl gray. It's quite strange,", Kingsley said, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"That is weird...", she slowly agreed, "I would never have guessed to seep any mushrooms, but I guess that's how some of our potions are made." Raising a gloved hand to her chin, Elora appeared to become lost in thought. What would that have to taste like to pair with earl gray? Floral? Fruity? Savory...?

"You mentioned your skill with a spear. Are you what they call a frontliner?", the remark shook her gently from wonderment.

"Yeah --", Elora declared somewhat harshly, her own enthusiasm curtailed by a critical awareness. "Yeah", she continued more softly, "I joined my first raid only recently. It was...a lot. But... "But --", she added, "We were able to unlock the next floor, and no one got killed -- at least from what I heard." 

A slight bounce entered her step as she held her weapon close, her eyes scanning the brush for any sign of danger. For a split second, her peripheral vision caught the glimpse of something rustling nearby. Elora's shoulders tensed as her head whisked to one side. Nothing, her senses answered in relief.

"I don't know that I'll ever join one again.", she admitted with some reluctance, "It's just -- there's a lot of planning that goes into to it. A lot of formalities I don't understand."

"Nope -- just visiting a friend", she responded with a vague gesture to some smokestack in the distance.

"My name is Kyoto, what's your?"

"Elora", she stated succinctly. Unsure of whether or not to shake hands like two blokes meeting at the pub, she offered a curt a nod instead. A brief inspection of his appearance reminded her of Kiluia. Though, Kyoto seemed to have a smaller frame, perhaps younger in age?

"Boy you're looking pretty smoking and that isn't because we're in a literally fire death pit.", he mentioned.

"What --?", came a flat reply. Her expression indicated that she had been caught off-guard by the remark, and equally unimpressed by its hastiness. "Do you just say that to everyone you meet?" Perhaps the rhetoric was harsh, but Elora was rarely one for embellishment. A flicker of annoyance flashed across her eyes, followed by glint of curiosity. Sure, this guy seemed a bit crass, probably all-too-eager, but she did admire his willingness to say whatever was on his mind.

With arms crossed, she regarded him, waiting to see what he would say next.

A raspy sigh escaped from her lips as relief bled across her features. Like a flame ignited from flint and steel, Elora's eyes appeared to rekindle some of their familiar brightness. The invitation to start anew felt cleansing, rejuvenating in the wake of whatever shadows had suddenly breeched her surface. She stepped back from him and considered darting to their next prospective destination. Muscles seemed to flinch momentarily as Elora abandoned the inclination, her head shaking instead.

"I know you'd never mean to hurt me...", she said as a hand lowered to cusp around his, "It isn't your fault, and I don't want you to feel guilty." Another wave of pain swelled through her. Teeth sank into her lower lip while fingers tensed, her mind in search of greater security. The fractured pieces of her floated freely like flotsam junk in a sea of indecision. 'It's okay to say nothing', she echoed his reassurance. Still, a part of her clung to the idea that she could undo what had happened, mend the open wound that threatened to drive him away.

"I'm not used to being so close -- having someone like you in my life...", she started with hand guiding them to a nearby ruin. "I'm afraid -- of losing you, and everything that we have." It almost feels easier that way., spoke the voice of a deeper fear. Elora's fingers reached out to caress the runes that had been etched into stones. How could she give voice to something so... "It's contradictory...", she plainly stated, "To want to get closer to someone, but also keep your distance..."

Feelings threatened to resurface once again as Elora fought to keep them down. A soft light pulsed from the cryptic passage before them, indicating that its contents had been deciphered. If only it could be so easy.

Elora stood somber for a moment before turning to look Freyd in the eye. "I don't know how to explain --", she said with a squeeze to his hand, "But I think you know what I mean."

***

Decipher puzzle.  ID 236953 | LD 16+17=33 (total)

A curtain of darkness descended before her as something reached out to envelop her hands. Elora whimpered, her body flinching in response to its touch. The cold contact of leather gloves soon faded as a halo of heat arose in its stead. Recognizing the presence of a familiar soul, the mirage of previous days began to dissipate. At first, she couldn't make out Freyd's words, only the gentle rhythm of his voice. Fingers slowly curled and probed to explore the creases of steady palms as sensation bled back into her rigid muscles.

"...All I've ever wanted was to be with you...", he calmly reassured.

Drawing closer to him felt like returning home, at least, how she had always imagined that moment would feel. Knees practically buckled beneath her as Róisín collapsed into his arms. Burying her face far into his shoulder, she began to cry. Her chest swelled and sank in sporadic convulsions as choked sobs escaped from her lips. Nails dug and intertwined with the fabric of his cowl in desperate search of an emotional anchor.

Even now, she couldn't believe herself, hated the way she crumbled under the slightest kindness.

A ragged scream expressed as a stifled wail.

She shook angrily, bitterly while the waves of hurt raged through her, battered her core. Why does it always end this way?, she thought as the pain persisted, Why do I always hurt someone else? Why do always hurt myself? For as long as she could remember, it had seemed easier that way. What else could she possibly be in control of? Every venomous word, every failed relationship -- it had to be because of her. 

Reason fizzled away as her attention was brought to the impression of a pin. The Shadowed Rose...a testament of their commitment to one another...Warm, precious memories of their earliest encounters radiated serenely as she traced the shape with unfurling fingers. I knew so little, and even then...Freyd still believed in me..., she fondly reflected. Trickling tears began to subside in the wake of every selfless action and caring reminder that crossed her mind. Róisín wasn't sure she could ever make sense of why. Maybe some day, the answer would appear, just as unexpectedly as the love she had been shown.

Steadiness seemed to return to Elora's breath as she shamefully peeled back from Freyd, her eyes evading his gaze. "I'm really sorry...", she faintly said, "I wasn't expecting that...and I didn't know how to react...I thought...it must have been -- that you were just messing with me..." She seemed to deflate at saying that. "I didn't mean to hurt you, and I really love you, I just don't know what to say..."

Stray tears escaped from the corners of her eyes as Elora quickly raised a sleeve to press them away. 

Watching Freyd leave her felt like a dream. Where had the warmth of the summer rays gone? Her skin felt cold, her senses cauterized. Sounds and motions played out before her as Elora withdrew into herself. Somehow, her mind simultaneously felt as if it was completely frozen and rushing at a thousand meters per second. Thoughts were fleeting and unsubstantial, her conscious unable to string together any clear form of reason. Racing breath seemed to slip in her lungs as her heart pounded erratically in her chest. 

She tried to will herself to act, to force out any semblance of internal guidance. Instead, a familiar numbness had begun to creep over her, immobilizing every intention. Before Elora knew how to escape, her mind had became a spectator, her heart the captive audience. Once recognizable shapes morphed into shadows as her vision became transfixed on something distant. It was as if she had just plummeted into sleep. No, was starting to wake from...

The impressions of distant memories began to dapple her clouded awareness. Dunned by the haze of time, their imagery remained obscure; the emotions anchored to them potent by comparison. Behind a veil of regret, Elora could hear the once-loving voice of the one she'd hurt, the one she had lost. Gnarled, messy, dangerous feelings gouged through her, threatened to overwhelm what little she remained in control of. There was no place for her here. Róisín was a destructive existence, a maelstrom of envy and anger too difficult to contain.

A reflective gleam shown from Elora's trembling wrist as her bracelet seemed to unlatched itself and tumble to the ground. Borris, although inanimate in appearance, was keen on recognizing when his companion's vital organs had surpassed their usual cadence. The small familiar paused for a moment, as if to regard her, before taking off through the grass. A large magnetic headstone rolled ferociously ahead as several polarized pebbles snaked behind in a chain. Faint rustling proceeded his arrival to Freyd's boot, where the creature promptly reassembled into its typical golem-like shape.

A pair of misshapen fists raised high into the air before reigning down on the leathery shoe. As mighty as his efforts were, Borris was still infinitesimally smaller than his human counterparts. What may have sounded like a war drum to him would be little more than curious thrumming to towering ears. Still, he stubbornly persisted, throwing every ounce of his weight at Freyd in an effort to alert him.

Róisín's body began to shake even harder as hot, terrified tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. Time continued to spin around her as Freyd seemed to drift away. For as much as she wanted to mend everything she'd destroyed, her body remained incapable. Everything she'd done, everything she was, was beyond what she could handle in this moment. 

She was afraid. Paralyzed. Unable to control herself. 

A complete sensory overload -- an emotional shutdown, was the only way to spare them from a rising, ruthless tidal wave. Freyd didn't deserve that, Elora hadn't deserved that, her mom hadn't deserved that. 

Looking through Freyd, she pleaded, "Don't go...", to the memory on the other side.

A distracted right hand dropped drastically toward her chest, as if her heart had doubled its weight in only a second. Perhaps her body was acting on instinct, piloting limbs in rapid response to a potential cardiac arrest. Breath siphoned from Elora's lungs before her mind could even grasp the meaning of what Freyd had suggested. M-married -- we should get married -- he wants to...get married? With me?, the speculation began. Her bright blue eyes remained interlocked, transfixed by his. Too many heartbeats. Too many sounds. The silence between them stretched on.

He's not -- He means -- It's because -- 

She had misunderstood.

A raspy wheeze forced itself out of her throat. With eyes squeezed tightly shut, Elora's head swung back, her hands soaring to cover her face. After a few more moments of erratic, asphyxiating giggling noises, she managed to steady herself. Fingers timidly spread and peeled away from her face, which burned like a furnace underneath. She was already anticipating his laughter, the lighthearted teasing at her mistake. It wasn't the first time a joke like this had gone over her head. She had always been bad at reading the room and deciphering a punchline before it was moot.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

Blurry eyes blinked to refocus on his as a hefty exhale escaped her diaphragm. Shaky hands followed suit, smearing unbidden tears from the corners of her vision. With any luck, they would serve as reinforcement to her belated amusement. 

An eventual clarity dispelled any lingering shock, allowing Elora to fully recognize Freyd's flushed expression.

"You're -- serious --", she stuttered as realization finally set in. Pupils dilated in surprise before darting in search of an answer. "I --", came the frazzled response, "Do you want to -- I'm not -- Do you think we're ready --?"

A barrage of questions outpaced her speech, curtailing the conversation. There was so much more she wanted to say, more she needed to express.

The cicadas continued their chorus as the world froze before her.