Elora

Coming eye to eye with the ragged man made Elora's skin crawl. She had slaughtered beasts before and even snuffed out the lives of many elves. Never had she encountered an enemy that looked so human, yet so monstrous at the same time. Rusty streaks trickled from the mouth of the man, ensnaring the stench of something revolting within his beard. She'd barely managed to stop her fall as the butt of her spear lodged into the thawing mud. In an instant, she was cast in the other direction. Whether by instinct or force, her legs stumbled backwards, clearing a distance between the two of them.

Only a moment later, Freyd had crippled the man with a ferocious attack. "What the HELL is wrong with you?!", he yelled. Elora startled at the sound, her fingers fidgeting around her weapon as she considered whether or not to interject.

A sudden visage caught her eye from the across the encampment. With nerves still abuzz, she glanced down to Freyd, then back to the creature. Sights settled to distinguish the features of a younger lad. His hair, though a snowy white, contrasted starkly with the amalgamation of greens and browns that painted the forest behind him. The pair of piercing blue eyes had already shifted from her to Freyd. 

"Oh fuck,", Freyd exclaimed as his hands frantically betrayed their previous mission, "No... no..." 

Only the faintest whisper of regret could be heard as she hurried over to him. Without forethought, she extended both her hands outwards to capture and cradle one of his. It was impossible to tell what was running through his mind or how he would act on the emotions that overwhelmed him. Looking back to -- was it Oscar -- she could confirm that the cannibal had been defeated. One less thing to worry about. She gave the player a gracious nod before returning to console Freyd, "It's ok --what's wrong?"

"Well it's working, isn't it?", she sang back in a smarmy voice. The words streamed from her with an unbridled sincerity that she was scarce to allow. Normally, self-praising remarks hemmed the pattern of a confident disguise. Only recently had she begun to feel a genuine pride in her own abilities. It was bittersweet to question whether or not she deserved that even that.

So instead, she rushed back into the fray. With their enemy teetering on the brink of collapse, there was precious time to waste. Careful leaps around pools of lava placed her just beneath the Warden's hulking form. Eyes searching for an area to strike, Elora circled around it like a scheming predator. At last, she found an opening.

A pointed jab through the Achilles heel caused the juggernaut to collapse like an oversized jenga tower. Shrapnel clattered to the ground in a satisfying sequence as Bahr and Elora both spared a moment to admire their victory. 

"That wasn't so bad --", she sighed contentedly before adding, "Thanks for being our damage sponge. I...would have likely been chummed by now --" 

***

Post Action: [x20] ST-B (20 EN)
Free Action: N/A

ID# 224330 | CD 1, recovery failed, +3 EN passive recovery 

ID# 224331 | BD 9+4= 13 - 3 EVA = 16 Hit | DMG: 20*22 = 440- 130 MIT = 310 DMG to Titanium Warden

MIT reduced by 50 due to Deteriorate, reduced by 20 due to Blight
 

[H: 5] Elora: HP: 620/700 | EN: 46/104 (+3)(-20) | DMG: 21 | MIT: 66 | EVA: 1 | ACC: 4 | BH: 35 | LD: 3 | AA | BLGT: 32 | FLN: 8 | REC: 3 | STK: 40
[H: 3] Bahr: HP: 738/880 | EN: 89/122 (+4-11) | DMG: 20 | MIT: 103 | ACC: 4 | EVA: 3 | SLTH: 4 | FLN: 8 | HLY: 16 | BH: 44 | HB: 17 | PHASE

Titanium Warden: HP: 0/1250 | DMG: 200 | MIT: 200 | ACC: 3 | EVA: -3 | Battle Healing: 50 | Thorns: 50 | Fireproof [BLIGHT, STATIC APPLIED]
Methodical | The <<Titanium Warden>> is in no rush, only attacking once every other turn. During the turns that it does not attack, any debuffs active on the creature are ineffective.
Magma Jolt | On attack rolls of BD 9+ and CD 9+, this boss will issue an AoE attack that fires a blast of molten steel at each player for 175 damage, ignoring 50% of Mitigation. Additional rolls for this AoE are unnecessary - it will strike each target without fail.
Deteriorate | For each critical hit dealt to this boss, its Mitigation is permanently reduced by 50.

Elora would have shaken her fist in anger if she wasn't desperately attempting to steady her beer. What were the two of them thinking, sprinting off like that and leaving her to to trail after them like some sort of hound? Dexterity failed her as she struggled to dodge thawing pitfalls and protruding conifer branches.

Finally, she escaped the evergreen canopy, stumbling onto the scene of an ensuing battle. Freyd was doing whatever he was. Meanwhile, Oscar had already begun to unsheathe his weapon of choice. Katana? Nice -- Not far off, a bear of a man had begun his feral dash toward their party. 

Elora steeled herself, rushing forward with the cry of a Valkyrie, her blood coursing with the vigor of a booze-ridden feast. Reaching over her right shoulder, she swung the spear from her back, planting her corresponding foot onto something --slippery. Momentum arched her heel clockward, causing her left arm to flail upwards for immediate counterbalance. Few falls were as heroic or as graceful as the one she'd met that day.

Raising her stein high in the air, its weight lurched down, hammering the grizzly assailant squarely in the jaw.

She practically fell over him as both their bodies teetered to one side. At least if she died now, she wouldn't have to hear about how badly she'd biffed that attack.

***

She spared no hesitation. With heels springing her forward, Elora raced toward the Warden in a zagged pattern. In a moment's notice, she had approached its faltering knee. Magma silhouetted a rippling cape as she leapt into the air. Her spear positioned for an opportunistic attack, blade plunging deeply into a gap between the armored plating. The behemoth reeled, spraying magma into Elora's sights.

Using all of her strength, she ripped the weapon from where it had been lodged. The retreat was sudden, though without second-thought. In such haste, Elora had robbed her senses of what precious time they required to prepare for the necessary fall. Legs faltered beneath her as she tumbled to the ground. Despite her tenacity, it was evident she lacked the crucial coordination oft demanded of formidable battles. 

Scrambling to her defenses, she barely managed to avoid the boss's reciprocal swings. The battlefield around her seemed a blur. Spurts of blinding heat tore through the surrounding darkness in a disorienting display. Shaking her head, Elora attempted to steady herself. It was becoming difficult as the sound of grating metal clashed viscously with the heartbeat that thrummed inside her ears.

With a ragged exhale, she willed herself to subdue the rising fear. Now was not the time to panic. It was just as Bahr had said, Only a few more hits...

***

Maybe not so boring after all, Elora assessed the unfamiliar player, He could make for good company. Following after the both of them, Elora began to pluck the smorgasbord of pastries she'd collected from the basket of her skirt. It was more than a little awkward to alternate between using her free hand to carry her stein, then bring the food to her mouth, but she was determined to make it work. Perhaps I should have finished this before we left, she thought, regarding the beer.

"So what are we actually doing?", she called out after dusting stray crumbs from her dress, "Finding Darian? Is that all we know? The guy's name?"

That reminded her, she hadn't properly introduced herself to Freyd's friend. Well now it would just be weird., she stubbornly decided. Once in awhile, she figured it best to await further context rather than make a fool of herself. It seemed there would be ample opportunity to accomplish that later, what with the landscape's precarious shifts between ice and sludge.

A fleeting grimace eclipsed Elora's features as she recalled their failed attempts at claiming her first familiar.  Elora could vividly recall it's fiery personality, which was far too explosive when compounded with her own. From wrestling the wyrmling to smacking it with her spear, the smarmy creature was more a victim to her antics than the other way around. "Ah, the time you lent me your cloak", she reminisced with much greater fondness, "And we ran away from those crazy carnies to cuddle in the woods." Saying that aloud made it sound more like a German fairytale than a shared experience. For a moment, she sank further into Freyd, laughing at the sheer ludicrous of it all.

"I would like that very much.", she agreed to his proposal. "Something something -- we have a house now, which means there's more room for treasure., she joked with a twirling hand, "And I could always use more cuttings to propagate in my greenhouse!" Peeling away from him, she began the ritual of forming the potato-based patties, searing each in oil until it reached a perfect crispness. With a smile on her face, Roisin remembered an old rhyme her mother would say every time they made the comforting dish: Boxty on the griddle, boxty on the pan; if you can't make boxty, you'll never get a man. It seemed that some rituals served more than one purpose in life.

"HAH! Oh --", she exclaimed with relief, "Yeah, I thought that seemed kind of sudden --" The hue of embarrassment had already spread to her ears by the time Roisin relinquished the smoking pan. Freyd carefully accepted the vessel, guiding it to safely rest atop a cool burner nearby. 

"I love you, you know. I'm just trying to feel my way through all of this, and my brain keeps getting in the way.", he explained with a candid touch.

A widening smirk could have revealed the intrusive remark that threatened to escape Elora's lips.  "Yeah, I understand -- feeling the way through...", she agreed with an awkward cough.

"It was a big step for us to move in together, but it feels right, in here.", Freyd reassured, "We just need time to let it all sink in." 

She nodded before saying, "Yeah, definitely...I'm surprised that it's gone so well, honestly -- I didn't expect it to be horrible, but I kind of figured we'd be arguing more by this point - potatoes aside." There's still plenty of time for that., a part of her insisted. With a steady exhale, Elora slid her arms up and around Freyd's shoulders to pull him into a warm embrace. "I'm glad to finally be here with you.", she stated before adding, "And grateful to be out of that sh*thole of an inn --" 

Elora leaned into him, cackling as she reflected on the sheer shoddiness of her previous accommodations. The trip from there to Freyd's home at Angel's Point had something to be missed, despite its treacherous path through a landscape of swamps and zombies. Perhaps the distance had somehow brought them closer together. Every day one of them chose to visit the other felt like a continuous commitment to their relationship.

Her heart thrummed at the thought of that.

"Did you ever believe it would turn into this...?", she swooned aloud. 

Elora claims the following:

• Dagan Crystal-A | Removes one enhancement on a weapon and replaces it with Envenom Offensive. (This effect cannot override the Envenom Offensive enhancement cap. Consumed on use.)
  • ID: 223754
• Braso Crystal-A | Removes one enhancement on a weapon and replaces it with Absolute Accuracy. (This effect cannot override the Absolute Accuracy enhancement cap. Consumed on use.)
  • ID: 223755

"So what is a person like you doing in hell for?", the eldritch blur seemed to ask.

God? No, Satan -!, her mind quickly deduced.

"What'dyou want, an itemized list?", she sarcastically retorted. With a sluggish wobble, she raised both hands to begin the count, "Alright, there was that time in high school I guess -- b*tch had it coming though, real work of a person..." Elora seemed to trail off as the illusion of steam morphed into something more recognizable. Green crystal...

"O-oh", she stammered and stiffened into a more attentive posture, "At least, that's how I think the story went -- haven't finished the quest yet --." She cleared her throat to signal the segway, "What the hell are you wandering out here for? Looking for a place to die?" The theory had some sense. After all, with its rolling lava flows and stacks of steam, the ninth floor made an excellent destination for Viking damnation and instant cremation. Morbidly, she speculated how many players had met their deaths here, and how many more were soon to follow.

Elora missed Mina's home from the second she left its doorstep. It was hard to imagine why the player had chosen to move to an inferno of a floor, even harder yet to understand how her oasis of a property survived its engulfing climate. She certainly wouldn't find herself occupying any of the arid floors without reason. Growing up in rural Ireland made even the slightest heats practically unbearable. Yes, she much preferred the temperate, or even the colder climates of many of the other floors to this literal hellscape.

Trudging back towards the level's main settlement, she did her best to distract herself from the beads of sweat rolling into uncomfortable places. For as hard as the pain mitigation system tried, it still fell short in suppressing inclement agony. A stray basalt pebble proved a viable distraction until she'd managed to punt it out of her perimeter. The thing hopped and clattered as it ping-ponged down the craggy slope, until eventually, it came to a collision with something blurry.

Is that...another player? The cerulean-eyed player squinted in an attempt to differentiate the distant mirage from its truthful occupants.

***

Elora | HP: 720/720 | EN: 106/106 | DMG: 21 | MIT: 78 | EVA: 1 | ACC: 5 | BH: 36 | LD: 2 | AA | BLGT: 32 | FLN: 8 | REC: 8 | STK: 40

She shelved her confusion at his thanks in favor of an awaited reply.

"I.. never really had a proper family.", stated Freyd as sorrow seemed to eclipse his features. "Tell me more about yours." 

His redirection puzzled her. After all, she had posed the discussion with the intention of learning more about his history and interests. Dispelling the invitation so immediately made her reconsider his newfound willingness for transparency. Despite that, she considered that her judgement might be unfair. Freyd had been making visible attempts to lift the veil, to allow her a glimpse at the more sensitive foil to his outwardly-stoic behavior. Perhaps there truly were fewer memories entangled with bittersweet nostalgia, or at the very least, uglier ones he wasn't yet ready to share.

Elora's expression softened as she strode over to their stovetop to begin heating a cast iron pan. "Yes - I have an older brother, Liam.", she reminded him. A smattering of oil entered the pan, crackling as she tilted it to and fro to evenly coat the charred surface. 

"We need to build more of these rituals.", Freyd agreed before adding, "Is it possible for us to build a family in here, I wonder?"

Elora barely managed to catch the pan as its handle faltered in her grasp. The dull 'thud' of its underside smacking the stove below might have been enough to conceal her wheeze of surprise. Turning to him with a stupefied look, her face was quickly flushing crimson from chin to forehead.

"Do you mean kids - ?", she practically blurted out. In the background, her mind was already off to the races. He knows what it takes to make kids, right? OF COURSE HE KNOWS! Wait -- but that wouldn't even matter, would it? No - you can't have kids in here, can you? Obviously someone's had to have tried! Wouldn't that mean -- 

"You would have to adopt --", she abruptly stated.

Gears turned some more. 

And what would that even look like -- in here, when we get out --?

Rising smoke carried the smell of something sour. Her attention rebounded to breakfast.

"A-are you finished with the potatoes?", she inquired with an awkward laugh.

"It's easy", she began, as a gesture through her UI summoned familiar ingredients to the counter before them. "You remember - we just gotta grate and mash the potatoes, then mix that into some flour and egg." That was the short of it, at least. Elora gave Freyd a hesitant look before suggesting, "If you can prepare the potatoes again, I'll get started on mixing the batter."

She left little window to decline as her attention diverted to the delegated task. Thankfully, the bowl she'd previously put out hadn't been fashioned into a projectile during the earlier battle. It was a straightforward process, cracking one egg into the strategically-dispersed bed of flour. She preferred to make a well to mix outward from the center. Once in awhile, Róisín caught herself repeating similar subconscious behaviors. Whether it was planting seedlings in old egg cartons or preparing tea in a particular way, each pattern offered her a haven of comfort. She supposed that many of them stemmed from a sense of stability. After all, why would you repeat an action that failed its first introduction to the world? 

Tired eyes became transfixed by the swirling batter as her mind searched for a fulfilling explanation. Finally, she felt compelled to ask, "What is it you enjoy doing most? It's kind of dumb...but making this dish, it reminds me of living with my family." That wasn't it., she realized as articulation began to fail her. "I mean - it feels strange because...I don't mean that in a typical sense - those times weren't easy or bright, at least, most of them weren't. for me But still, I'm glad I get to do this again. It feels special, like a ritual we can share together.", she paused before adding, "Like something a proper family would do."

Fingers curled around a tarnished knob, unlatching and guiding the washroom's door gently toward her. Where Elora had anticipated the harsh creak of worn hinges, she was instead greeted by a span of silence. It was a small detail to notice, though one she regarded with humored reverence. Not long ago, she was hefting her detached door out of the way whenever she wanted to leave The Hummingbard Inn. Part of her missed the creaking floorboards and settling walls of a well-loved place. Perhaps the inn had too many of those familiar noises. From rowdy street brawls to late-night karaoke, she never knew when a night would end, or when she would would know a moment's peace.

Witherwind Rest sang a different serenade. Until moving here, Elora had forgotten the bliss that came from hearing the rumble of a river, the way the wind raced and rushed between the limbs of swaying pines. Even the chirping crickets and whirring cicadas created an orchestra of intoxicating tranquility. She wanted to relish in every moment of this adjustment period, no matter how uncomfortable. It was never certain how long the experience would last.

She spared a second to tame an especially unruly sprig of hair before exiting the bedroom. By the time she had re-entered the hallway, Freyd had already been waiting for her.

"So... should we actually get to eating something?  Or are you gonna pick another fight?", he chided playfully.

A glint of denial formed on her lips, replaced shortly thereafter by the crease of a knowing smirk.

"Yeah -- I'm STARVING!"

Striding over to him, Elora took his hand in her's and lead them carefully down the stairs. "I think I've still got plenty of potatoes left to make boxty, but we can try for something else if you feel like it.", she reassured with a contented smile. What had previously resembled Freyd's earliest encounter with a molasses barrel had already been dispelled by the system. I could get used to a self-cleaning house., she thought with a wave of relief.

The gummy paste clung to her clothes like a goddamn leech, its adhesive bond severed only by a concerted yank in the opposite direction. With a less than graceful shlorp off of Freyd, she offered a hand to help him escape from the ever-expanding puddle below. "I know right?", she found herself recounting, "I never bothered to bathe at the inn 'cause it didn't have any kind of washroom." Her mind considered how gross that admission would have sounded in a real-life context. Thankfully, wistful thoughts of warm water were enough to tow away any inklings of misplaced embarrassment.

The woman was practically bobbing with anticipation by the time she reached the stairs, her heels trailing heaps of batter in their wake. Only a few short moments passed before each began to disintegrate into a column of two-dimensional crystals. Taking the ornate wooden railing in her hand, she did her best to stabilize each unfamiliar step until she finally reached the top. From up here, she could overlook their living room. Teeming with scattered plants and eclectic possessions, their home felt less like a prison and more like a setting off on a grand adventure. I guess that's really what this is. Opening the next chapter.

It wasn't until eyes drifted down to Freyd that a certain possibility had occurred to her. She managed to dispel the smirk-smitten daydream with a confident dash down the left hallway.

"Promise I won't be too long!", she shouted over her shoulder just before the telltale 'click' of a closed door.

The gesture hardly seemed practical. On the opposite side of her bedroom entrance was a panoramic view of a nearby mountainside. Vines clambered up and around several tall wooden pillars, their shooting branches weaving into a canopy above a sizable bathtub.

It's been so long since I've been able to just soak and relax..., returned the bittersweet realization.

Elora spared no hesitation to unequip her wardrobe and enter the already-steaming water. What some would have considered to be a severe lack of privacy was nothing short of liberating to her. She had spent all of her life up until now living with other people or scraping by with few accommodations. The least she could enjoy was a bath with a good view.

Tension unwound from her chest, allowing her body to float backwards and sink along the wall of the tub. Her blinks suspended momentarily as the rest of her features melted into a serene expression. As the day's dirt drifted off of her skin, she wondered how Freyd and her would adjust to living together. Sometimes it felt like their relationship was moving too slow, othertimes too fast. And even most people our age seem married..., she considered uneasily. There was a lot of comfort in denying that prospect, paradoxically, in embracing it. 

A timely alert flashed in tandem with a growl from her stomach. Right..., Elora remembered, We haven't actually HAD breakfast yet... With a disgruntled groan, she pried herself from the water, reequiped her usual garb, and made her way back to the hallway outside.

The system's accuracy in recreating real-world excursions was nothing short of astounding. Maybe that was the secret. Something as spontaneous and ridiculous as this seemed like it could only exist in a fairy tail. An especially messy fairy tail. A sludgy cobwebbing of porridge strung between Freyd's cheek and her's as she peeled back from their predicament to assess his vitals. Ever since the collision, he'd been convulsing violently beneath her weight. There was scarcely time to be offended.

"Freyd...?", she probed warily, "You gonna survive? Just how much batter did you inhale??" Careful fingers did their best to scrape, then shovel, the pockets of pooled gunk away from his face. Eventually, the stifled wheeze morphed into something guttural. A few additional lurches finally gave voice to a sound that resembled laughter.

Ok, not dead -- he can breathe, at least., came a comforting assessment. "Uhhh, so just what in the hell lead to all this?", she asked with humored bemusement, "Some inspired plan of your's?" Elora had to admit, she considered his conniving mind to be infallible. He was supposed to be THEE SHADOW, or you know, whatever else lied inside of it. "I guess clumsiness was always your greatest enemy.", she teased with a smile -- or at least, whatever she could manage of one. The lingering mixture was beginning to near the consistency of a curing cement. 

"We should get cleaned up.", Elora decided with a gesture toward her in-game menu. With only a few clicks, she'd simply need to re-equip what she wearing to dispel any residue from her attire. A moment's pause ushered reconsideration. "Actually...we've got a place to clean up here, don't we?" There hardly seemed a point in having bathrooms, rivers, and hidden pools if they weren't going to use any of them.

And so, right before them, the facade began to crack. Little by little: Freyd, Takeshi, Montjoy, the indecipherable amalgamation of everything that was the person she'd loved, was on the crux of an internal metamorphosis. The marks of dueling dialogues were plainly written in his features. Regret, concern, worry, fear, sadness, dismay, longing, hope. Freyd's form seemed to ebb and flow between reservation and relief as the admission of fears long sense held were systematically purged from his heart. With each successive explanation, Elora felt as though an ornate tapestry was being completely unraveled through a series of relentless tugs. It was a display equally as beautiful as it was heart wrenching.

How was she meant to help?

I had no idea..., her mind ached to imagine how he had struggled in days before. Had Freyd been mired in this turmoil since their fledgling days of Aincrad? Those memories had once seemed so jubilant and pristine.

No, Róisín knew that was a lie. Her mind was quick to remember everything they had confronted, everything they'd run away from. They were trying to survive, not figure themselves out. How could you be anything less than what the circumstances demanded of them? There had been no room for second-guessing, no leniency for oversharing. And yet...

“...whenever I turn within, I see the same thing I drew that day with you by the lake, Elora...", her partner continued, "Do you remember our visit with Hannah?”

Emotion poured out in excess. Bitterness lashed from the ends of words shouted, regret stung from the streams of stifled tears. For Freyd, anger had scrawled charcoal across a canvas, torn itself from the ties to its maker. The bonds forged both in and outside of battle gradually pried open the past left unspoken at the core of every person. They had almost begun to fashion their insecurities like plates of armor, a means for protecting each other instead of the fragile ego within.

Concerned eyes regarded Freyd as he seemed to crumble beneath an invisible weight. The Storm of Shadows had been difficult for them both, deeply traumatizing for everyone if she extrapolated its devastation. The affect on Elora had been an increased distrust toward deep water and horses, an arguably fickle fear in the shadow of her comrades' greater paranoia. Katoka, Freyd, and all of the other Frontliners had been forced to watch as their loved ones were swallowed by the sinister force, each of their lives slowly snuffed out like dwindling flames in the night.

Her attention was quickly commandeered as Freyd cited further symptoms of his suppressed inner struggles. Despite the ambience of his touch, the resonance of his voice, Elora became ensnared in web of thoughts. She wanted so badly to be present. But during times like this, it was easy to become overwhelmed. Words submerged into background static as the shadows around them whirred into a blurry mess. So much I missed -- I should have noticed -- was I supposed to know -- is Freyd going to be ok -- he should be ok -- what if he's not ok -- what will we do now --, the questions rushed through her mind. Unnamed emotions clawed at her conscious as her body began to tremble. Shutting her eyes, she attempted to steady her breathing, sequester the rising energy. The world was loud. How was she supposed to make sense out of everything? There was too much to observe, too much to understand.

“Elora… this…"

Her attention was pulled back to the room.

"...I know this is too much… and sounds crazy, but… well... uh... do you remember when we spoke about whether we would ever leave this world, given the chance?”

She gave a dazed nod.

“I answered as Takeshi would, but...I honestly don’t even know whether he exists anymore, or ever did, in every or any sense. Please, understand that I would go anywhere, brave anything, forge across unknown or forbidden worlds, if it meant that I could be with you.” 

Elora's lips tried to draw to a smile before wincing back into something uncertain. The sentiment was almost incomprehensible to her, at least in this moment. Hadn't she failed him? How could he care for someone who was always putting her emotions before his own? Even now, she somehow made herself feel the victim. While Freyd was dealing his darkest secrets out on the table, she had become distracted by an inner dialogue. The observation spawned a pit of guilt in her chest.

"After all this, I’ve finally come to a simple realization.”, Freyd eagerly stated, "I’ve been asking the wrong question all along...What matters is who I choose to be, right here, right now.  And that means being someone who lives and cares for those around him.”

It was an apt ideal, a wish she shared to realize for his sake and that of others. Elora didn't understand how to wrangle her invasive thoughts, but she knew that their presence was preventing her from listening. If she was going to help others, she needed to know how to still her racing mind.

“You are my salvation, Elora.”

"Wha --",The declaration caught her off guard, curtailed her lingering examination.

“You’ve always been my reminder to be a better person than my nature would otherwise allow.", he insisted, "I love you for that, now and forever. You set me free from the prison of my own soul, then badgered me rightfully into believing that I ever had one.”

She blinked with some astonishment as her watery eyes finally welled over with tears. The earnest confession seemed to thaw a characteristic rigidity from Freyd's features. In the mirror of his soft and caring eyes, she saw an inkling of something precious - an appreciation that pierced through all of her doubts, cradled the core of a being who radiated unbridled emotion. The vision was dispelled in an instant, its warmth continuing to linger.

"...I don't know what I did...", she accepted the uncertainty of it all , "But I'm happy to know you. You've transformed me in more ways than I can put into words."

A cacophony of cataclysmic proportion clattered out from the nearby common room. Elora barely managed to stifle a scream as the sudden jolt of surprise made her spine rattle from tailbone to the base of her skull. Christ almighty -- is Freyd ok?! , the instinctual worry sparked within her mind.

"GAH!  Borris!  What the...?!", came a convincing cry from just around the corner.

Pangs of anxiety shot through Elora's chest as her mind began to construct the crime scene behind that door. "It started because of breakfast...", she imagined her opening remarks to the court, "...and ended as a bloodbath."  

An immediate step propelled her in his direction. If he was hurt, if he needed help, she needed to --

The sound of a rolling marble pried her mind's eye from the impending spiral. From just below her field of vision, she'd caught sight of a Familiar shadow. A stray appendage of the Borris assembly rapidly tumbled across the foyer. In the opposite. direction. of Freyd's. yelling. Elora's eyes narrowed at the observation. Borris always regroups around the body of his enemies. Why would one part be running away from Freyd?, she paused to consider, Unless...

 "Freeeyd?", she called out with her best recreation of a doting concern, "Are you ok -- I didn't mean to --", Elora thumped the door open with the butt of her spear. A blur from above greeted the crash of a bucket. It's not-quite solid, not-quite liquid contents slushed directly over where she would have entered after him.

"AH - HAH!", she exclaimed only a millisecond before her sole made first contact with its buttery demise. With leg slipping forward, she barreled around the frame with the dexterity of a drunken sailor. Thankfully, the starchy concoction had served an effective clot to the remainder of the lard-stricken surface. Her spear spun like a dowsing rod in search of an entity during the dance of such unsure footing. It was only a matter of time before stability revealed the location of her mischievous provocateur.

Azure eyes regarded Mina curiously, then cautiously as she summoned a notepad to hand. What is she writing down...?, Elora narrowed her eyes to peer at the text. A transcription? What the hell? To document such a vulnerable discussion felt unnecessarily judgmental and detached. Maybe that's the point --, Elora seethed, She's not even tryin' to listen to Freyd, just prod and gawk at him like some sort of lab rat -- Perhaps her thoughts had been less quiet than she had hoped, for only a matter of moments later, Mina warily removed the veil that shielded her features.

The intensity of Elora's scowl slowly softened at the sight. She wasn't shocked, surprised, or even feigning sympathy at their host's unfortunate disfigurement. Instead, her easement seemed to indicate respect, an acknowledgement and appreciation for disguises mutually lowered. Tension held in her hidden hand unfurled ever so slightly as the other remained limply draped over Freyd's.

There was a palatable presence that drenched the room, a sensation entirely indiscernible, yet deeply understood; a single second suspended so delicately in this very moment. She found herself welcomed by a familiar lightness as all of the air drew briskly from her chest. Was there even any to bleed from this ephemeral mannequin? The traces of an exhale caught in her throat, its escape stifled by an enemy unknown. Everything was brittle, balanced precariously like a feather about to fall into an unfathomable abyss.

Elora's instincts screamed for retreat. This was the moment to run, to irreparably deface whatever futile cause she had sacrificed her heart to. Too many times. It was never enough. She was never enough. She needed to ruin it. She always ruined it. Something deep inside of her ached for control, a way to turn the tides against herself. Drown out the thoughts.

Her hairs were standing on end. 

Brace for the storm.

This time, she had the power to reach out, to save another from disappearing beneath the waves. Fingers drew down, determining to intertwine with Freyd's. If there was anything Elora had ever willed for a gesture to communicate, it was that she was prepared for whatever came next.

Even if it tore them from their foundation, even if it destroyed her along with him, she would try to be his tether.

The starchy aftermath grew ever evident against the marooning backdrop of Elora's face. Where Freyd may have expected shrieks, he was instead greeted by an unnerving silence. A prolonged stare would soon reveal subtle tremors that lapsed into uncontrollable shakes from sticky head to splattered toe. Steam may as well have been sizzling off of her skin as Elora made one swift motion to hurl the egg she'd been holding into the kitchen ceiling above. What could have been miscalculated as a stray attack would soon find its way from the rafters onto the head of the wryly player. In a moment's notice, she'd utilized the diversion to dash behind the central island. He's not going to win that easy -- not in my house!, Elora seethed with a fiery determination. As soon as she was under cover, she made an inventory of her surroundings. Flour -- not far from me, milk -- on the opposite side of the counter, oil --, she couldn't waste time yoinking it from her menu.

Using whatever stealth advantage had been afforded to her, she slinked from where she'd hidden back to beside the livingroom wall. The feign had seemed successful. Freyd was no longer standing there. But...was that really a good thing? Ah fuck --, the realization occurred, He's got his sneaky shadow shit, how the hell am'i gonna compete with that? Glancing down to her wrist, she formulated an aid. Borris! Snapping what was essentially the rock golem's skeleton from its conjoining vertebrae caused the little critter to unfurl from her wrist.

"We're going after Freyd.", she whispered to the string of magnetic pebbles. One had to appreciate the speed at which her familiar fashioned his usual headstone into a station for sharpening sequential appendages. "Not like that --", she found it necessary to clarify, "He's somewhere in this house -- I need to get him back for --" A motion to her face would explain enough. Carefully, she peered over the edge of the polished slab. The room was empty, save for a single ominous, oozy trail toward a vague destination.

"YOU WHAT?!", Elora exclaimed, her bouquet nearly splatting into smithereens on the ground.  

"Pre-packaged meals have been the norm for me, for as long as I can recall..."

"They have for me too -- but I haven't tried to use a sword as a COOKING UTENSIL!", she stressed as if saying the words louder would attribute more sense to their application. "You need to learn how to prep properly, good god --" Elora intercepted him, lacing a hand around his arm to tow him up from the floor.

"Show me all these special talents you have hidden away.  I can't wait to learn.", he encouraged in a singsongy way.

"It's not a talent Freyd, it's using the right tool for the job --", she huffed, her mind still struggling to come to terms with the throwaway example. Could he actually find a way to NUKE our kitchen with a potato peeler?? Well I suppose if he uses a goddamn warhead to mash it --

"And, hey, there's never meant to be any pressure here between us...", she sicced her attention back to whatever he was saying, "I just really want to spend time doing things like this with you, especially those that matter most to you..."

"You have no idea what you're getting into --", she jested with a few raps of the roses against his chest, "I'm boring as hell, or I'm out somewhere about to get myself killed. There's no in between." Maybe that second admission was a little too on the nose. "What I mean to say is, I have no idea what I'm doing each day. I don't know why I'm waking up, I don't know when I go to bed. At least your life has a little structure." The two of them entered into the house's ground floor, Elora's feet leading them one direction and then the next as she correctly recalled where the kitchen was situated.

"Now --", she began what felt like a makeshift introduction to televised cooking show, "Boxty is sort of like flapjacks, but a lot less sweet and a lot more savory -- it gets it's flavor and texture from one ingredient." A pause for dramatic effect; Freyd was undoubtedly at the edge of his seat. "Potatoes!", she revealed with out-splayed hands. The still-held bouquet was nearly launched into a projectile as invisible studio members ducked for cover beneath their imaginary seats. "We don't got a need for peelers here, and it's not like we've got leftovers mashed from the night before.", she continued her instruction, "So we'll make some potatoes grated and some potatoes mashed -- you can handle the mashing, I'm sure."

A stack of spuds were thrust into his hands before she'd even finished the sentence. Elora'd always made sure to have some on hand for emergencies like this. "While you're doing that, I'll get all the other shit together", she determined with a resolute nod.

Elora's ears flicked upwards as her eyes ignited with unbridled excitement. "The wild roses!", she shouted with arms shooting forward to accept the gift, "I've been keeping my eye on them and waiting for them to bloom--" A chain of memories too long to recount was quickly curtailed as she shoved her entire face into the heart of the bouquet. With one comically large inhale, she drew in her breath to savor the sweetness of their scent. If she were a cartoon character, the buds would likely be shooting out of her ears. "One of the few things they managed to get right...", she sighed contentedly. Pulling back from the arrangement revealed a swath of pixelated pettles plastered across her face. Elora seemed none the wiser as she beamed from pointed ear to pointed ear. A brief squeeze of his hand freed Freyd from the inadvertent death grip that had ensued since the start of the escapade.

"I'm completely lost,", he began just likely as his blood had continued to flow, "...We're both going to mess things up - and that's okay.  Let's just promise that we will both try and keep trying, always."

Elora couldn't recall a time where the stoic player had seemed so uncertain. Are we making a mistake by doing this? The brief flash of worry was rapidly bludgeoned back into her subconscious. He feels the same. He's just as uncertain., her mind attempted to reframe the discussion. 

"Maybe starting with something small, and simple would be best?"

"Have you..."  "Yeah! --" "uh...... eaten?"

"Oh -- no -- I heaven't. Eaten.", she frantically corrected. A few blinks stretched over seconds of silence before she suggested, "What should we make? We have a kitchen -- we should make something, right? You know how to cook? I can make -- hash! Boxty too, I'm great at those!" Surely, that was something to be impressed by. 

A spike of surprised was immediately lapsed by the exhale of relief. "Oh -- hi, Freyd", greeted Elora as her far-too elusive partner materialized from the shadows beside them. I always forget he can do that... "Yeah, it's going -- well?", the response had broken off with unmeditated second-guessing. "I got all my stuff unpacked, now I'm just trying to figure out what to do about this.", she gestured vaguely to everything around them. The undeveloped greenspace served as a scapegoat for, or perhaps more uncomfortably, a visual representation of, her own insecurities. Sure, living at the Hummingbard Inn was a boisterous hell, but it had undoubtedly enabled her to stay mired in her ways. Settling into this new place...it felt like being confronted by her own inability to change. And for as much as she wanted to ignore it, that possibility was no longer an option.

"I don't know where to start.", she plainly admitted, "How do you return to something you've haven't even started?" The question seemed turbulent and oxymoronic in nature, the kind of rhetoric Elora often found her emotions entangled in. Or maybe, it was actually the other way around. "I thought I wanted to be an Alchemist -- I mean, I still do, but I've put off setting up a shop for so long...And that has to mean something...So either I'm lazy or scared, or I'm not really interested --", she hypothesized as a continuation of "or's" rattled off in her mind. Lifting both hands, Elora brushed back her bangs to clamp either side of her temples. "It seems a stupid thing to be complaining about -- this is all I ever wanted." Issuing a confused sigh, she began to unfurl her posture and break from the inner conundrum.

"I completely forgot --", she gasped with a sudden perk to her demeanor, "How're you doing --? Have you been handling the move?" The belated consideration to check up on others was another behavior she struggled to override. Frequent streams of worry and distraction had a tendency to tow her away by surprise, making it difficult to suspend the ensuing ramblings in favor of conversational etiquette. She was relieved to have Freyd's understanding in that. No matter how caught up she became in action or emotion, he remained there. Nodding, listening, caring. In a lot of ways, she didn't deserve him -- No, he would be disappointed in her for thinking like that.

Reaching out, she quietly took his hand in her's. Whatever this next journey was, she wanted to take it with him. Tailspins and all. 

A dramatic hand raised to wipe the arch of her brow as Elora stepped back to admire the day's progress. There, she regarded with some sense of accomplishment, All unpacked. The result of her efforts would seem indistinguishable to the average home-owner. In a room sparsely occupied by furniture or decor sat one dilapidated bed accompanied by a neglected dresser. Nested in the corner nearest the window, the set appeared more like a flee market show floor than a young woman's dream interior design. As silent seconds of scrutiny stretched on, Elora gave a disgruntled sigh, So much space... The impression felt bittersweet. What she had only anticipated as a jubilant new beginning was starting to sour from the presence of...something. I'm not used to it, she attempted to rationalize, From living with mom and dad to spawning in the inn...I've only ever lived out of a tiny room. How'em I supposed to spread myself across an entire house... The feat felt intimidating, unearned even. What items did she own, hobbies did she pursue that were even worth taking up space?

"Alright, so --", she ignored her inner criticisms with hands clapping together to ignite the solution. Closet...I have a closet I can put things into. Shuffling across the floorboards, she arrived at the decorative but empty shelving unit. The past few years had found her in possession of many clothes. The kimono, my swimsuit, this one outfit, and that dress I bought in Snowfrost..., she listed as each was purged from her inventory and onto the wooden spool above. There's my potions, all of the herbs I've been collecting, and..., her finger scrolled through a menu of miscellaneous items and trinkets, I have no idea what any of this is, actually.

"Let's just put this here for now", she decided. With a single gesture, all of the shit was whisked away to the darkest chasms of her dresser. "Much better", she determined with a contented spin. It was only through the absence of collision that she realized the room was, just as she had previous arranged it, completely unoccupied.

A pressing thought occurred, eclipsing her intentions of tackling the task at hand. I need to check out the greenhouse., came the nagging reminder. Elora first made a motion toward the door before considering, Can I get there from the window? Curiosity propelled her like a magnet to the ledge, and after a simple interaction, she'd swung one of the panes clear open to serve as an escape. "Perfect!", she cackled mischievously as clumsy limbs hauled her past the weathered frames. It wasn't long before the eager player had settled on the best method of descent. Clearly, a tactfully-situated trellis would be the most ideal for climbing; they made them a good deal sturdier here than they did in real life. Wrapping her hands around a braid of clambering vines, Elora made her way safely down to the field below. I'll remember that shortcut for later., she proudly determined.

Winding cobblestone steps soon lead her to the skeleton of a glorified she-shed. The semi-secluded greenhouse was tucked behind a thicket of overgrown shrubbery, its paned facade facing the mountains to the west. Shaking loose the latch to a small wooden door, she slipped her way into the building. Sunbeams streamed from windows above as a narrow trough of water cast undulating waves of light against the teal walls.

Elora ran a gloved hand along the live edge of an expertly-crafted timber countertop. A series of steady taps at the end of its length proceeded her walk around the perimeter. Where to even start..., she pondered as eyes searched for the would-be homes of imaginary potions and plants. Her legs guided her to a immediate answer with a plop on the floor. Leaning back from that vantage, she allowed the magnitude of the project to disable her, if only momentarily. Maybe I just need to think on it more..., she provided the comfortable excuse.

***

Elora | HP: 700/700 | EN: 104/104 | DMG: 21 | MIT: 78 | EVA: 1 | ACC: 5 | BH: 35 | LD: 2 | AA | BLGT: 32 | FLN: 8 | REC: 8 | STK: 40

"Guess so", she said casually and with a courteous smile. These interactions never get less awkward. Thankfully, this individual seemed the capable type, despite his age. He showed impressive dexterity in maneuvering his tea, at the very least. Wonder what kind he's drinking., she couldn't help but speculate. Soon after, Elora followed the old man as he began to reminisce about his days as a skier.

"Winter Olympics, 1972.", Kingsley recited,  "I injured myself the next year and took to other endeavors,"

Why...is he telling me all of this...?

"That's the type of memory I expect to encounter in the forest.", he continued to elaborate, to her naiveté. "I don't anticipate running into much trouble, but I'd feel much safer with you around,"

Elora's posture seemed to straighten at that remark, "Glad to hear it. Can't say I'm among the best of the players, but I like to think I've gotten pretty handy with a spear." It wasn't that long ago that the admission would have been a difficult one to voice. In the days since she had entered SAO, Elora felt that she had become more humble, or more accurately, accepting of fact she needn't feign competency in every skillset. 

Kingsley seemed to chuckle before revealing, "There's said to be a rare flower in the forest that I'd very much like to find."

"OH? Really?", the elf's interest appeared to pique as much as her ears, "What's it look like? Do you know how it tastes? I tend to brew with spices and herbs, but I'd like to experiment more with flowers -- Lilac florets pair nicely with earl gray." Her voice had suddenly undertaken a more excited tone. After a brief pause, she stammered, "OH YEAH -- I'm Elora by the way."

Dawn drenched the walls of her room in bright amber light as the shrills of territorial squirrels could be heard on the distant horizon. Elora stirred momentarily before stretching her arms high above her head. For the first time in a long while, she felt rested, refreshed even. When was the last time she'd slept through the night's slew of concerts or procedural brawls? That's right., she resolved after inspecting her surroundings, At the new house. Promptly climbing out of bed, she made her way to the heart of the house. Freyd's already gone -- Off to Firm Anima I bet. She glanced briefly in the direction of the greenhouse, a portion of the estate they'd dedicated specifically to her pursuit of Alchemy.

Whatever suspicion that had crept into her mind was immediately discounted as she otherwise gathered her supplies and set to arrive at Floor 22.

The guild's hall laid nestled in a small grove, not far from the teleportation center of Coral. Although accessible, Elora could count on her fingers the number of times she'd visited the grounds in search of something to do. It's not like work is any more fun than...honestly, anything else., came the admission. Nonetheless, she felt determined. After all, she had just survived her first raid, moved out of her ramshackled apartment complex; maybe she could accomplish even more.

Steady steps soon sent her crossing by the settlement's bulletin board. Not many listings, she plainly observed, Still, Rai might appreciate me passing them along to everyone else. Eyes skimmed the headlines of several ledgers until a particular listing caught her attention. "Looking for a guide...", she began to read, Seems like they're looking for flowers. Maybe someone dyed -- or a romantic date. The elven player shook her head. Anyway -- it's easy enough. With a bite of her morning snack, she trodded off toward the provided location. 

The town's gate wasn't empty, though not exactly bustling either. A handful of NPCs and inattentive adventurers streamed through the gates to this way and that as she scoped out the supposed poster. It wasn't long before her sights settled on the shape of a stagnant man -- he was noticeably shorter than the rest. Awkwardly shuffling over to his side, she initiated the greeting. "Hey --! Are you --", an abrupt pause ushered the pamphlet closer, "-- Kingsley?", she corrected before too long.

***

Elora consumes x1 Lemon Berry Palmiers

Item Type: Dessert | Effect: Adds +3 LD

Elora | HP: 700/700 | EN: 104/104 | DMG: 21 | MIT: 78 | EVA: 1 | ACC: 5 | BH: 35 | LD: 2+3=5 | AA | BLGT: 32 | FLN: 8 | REC: 8 | STK: 40