Freyd

"Nothing is ever too trivial, consigliere. But you know that." Unspoken, the obvious inference to Lancaster's own recent dalliances. It was both warning and permission in a single untaken breath. A missing explanation implied. Fingers were permitted their own diddling so long as goals were achieved. Loose ends, however... those might need to be tied off with a tourniquet, left to wither and die. Fingers themselves often didn't bear well against amputation, and functionality was too readily lost. Better a thousand thousand cuts to make the point. "What of the others? Know you of their

***SNAP!*** Freyd shook his head, finger pinching his nose as the vaunted raid boss made one of the classic blunders by shifting forms in plain sight. Mina had been locked in his sights since Yuki had stepped forth to engage with the enemy. "Ugh... I'm gonna go out on a limb here, gang, and tell you all that this here's our real healer." Thumb jerked over his left shoulder, he could still feel the pulsing power from her earlier buff tethering the group back to its point of origin. "Pro tip," he added, addressing the false vision and pointing a stray finger up towards his rig

Fire burns hottest before being smothered beneath its own ambitions or falling to the cannibalistic consumption of the very fuel it needs to survive. Fire it warmth. Fire is light. It is also fleeting, always and inevitably fading back to the eternal, silent stillness of night. Thus it was that the stage was poignantly set amidst the stagnant black blight known as the Font of Abhorrence on the outskirts of Fourteen. Said to be the origin of tragic calamity, there could be no better reminder of the stakes and themes for the day's discussion. Night had already set over the wrecked fuming w

“Freyd. You’re too analytical and smart sometimes.” “Sometimes?! Try always.” Hardly a revelation. They both knew it. Assurances and acknowledgements followed. It wasn’t her sincerity he doubted. It was her actions. Mari often said the right things, then went the wrong way anyway. It was her pattern, and so unrelentingly reliable you could plot your course by it. That’s what really bothered him. “If things progress. I promise. You’ll know." Misunderstanding. “I’m not your keeper, Mari, and hope I’m not coming across like I’m trying to be. You’re happier than I’ve ev

“I prefer Gooplinetics.” Eyes scanning her as she pulled the tatters of her shambliness together. Freyd knew full well what had transpired here. What concerned him was with whom, and whether she'd tell. Since he’d known her, Mari had consistently displayed colossally poor judgment. It had driven a wedge between them before, with a chaser of ChaseR as accelerant. To have found her knocked out and experimenting with virulent disease like it was a fresh tin of Playdough, after stumbling alone on the twenty ninth floor, had hardly settled his concerns. Darker tides in his brain threat

“Freyd…” He snorted. “Can’t be. Freyd would be way less clunky and loud than someone wearing all this ridiculous hockey paraphernalia. Although, I dunno… maybe I should have it chromed, since the subtle look seems to be out this season.” Even in the dourest of moments, and delivered deadpan, he couldn’t quite help himself. Hair tussles, features flushed and the surroundings more than slightly singed, Freyd raised an eyebrow as if to beg the inevitable question. A vague explanation given that did nothing to explain how this was some old favorite haunt, unless… the memorie

Last scion of the stray berry clan pinned and prone in a bed of smeared yogurt, Freyd stayed its execution as motion stirred beneath his other set of fingertips. Azure orbs articulating to the starboard, they caught a glimpse of dainty turtling, then felt the slow reprieve of spite snake its tendrils outward. So… maybe he could sleep in his own bed tonight, after all? Eyes still downcast, as if it might somehow make him invisible if he denied anything eye contact, he silently thanked the last of the granola gods that Reliq was snoring in the vacated cookie jar, sounding oddly like rice c

Dismissing the beacon of warmth and ghostly illumination with the wave of black plated gauntlet, Freyd breathed deep the damp, dead darkness of the dulled sea. Roiling, yet flat, it’s surface revealed no evidence of depth. Salt wafted, stinging the tongue. Like bitter tears welling up from the tainted land itself, a notion occurred that the island might be wading in a soup of its own liquidated mobs. A lovely thought. Eyes adjusting to absence near instantly, light’s vacation felt more familiar than ever. That alone was already disturbing. Mina barked her orders. Her hand’s blessing we

Pantry restocked, dust bunnies hunted to extinction, dried wood and kindling freshly chopped and stacked, Freyd was surprised by how much effort such a small house required after so long an absence. Devoting his uniquely obsessive resolve to housekeeping ensured the results were beyond meticulous. He'd even left a stash of Hollandaise and honey buns in a basket on the counter and a note under her sheltered mirror that read: 'It's here when you're ready.' Time spent with Elora had taught him to value the simpler pleasures of domestic life and how the littlest touches could hold power beyo

ph *** Start of new combat rotation. Double post permitted.

ph *** Frey'd Action: Enemy's Action

“You always show up with something warm.” A smile burdened the Whisper’s face, appreciating the lion’s observation, and accepting it as thanks. Glancing from the edge of his stormy cloud, Freyd nodded his thanks and welcome to Ariel. Neither of them were big on words, especially where few were called for. Such is the unspoken tongue of the raid veterans. “Good hunting today, Ariel. To us all.” Other heroes soon emerged from the dark morass at their backs to face off against the maelstrom in the waters before them. Baldur, Hirru, Wulfrin and Ciela, even Mari. Freyd knew the

"I know a place. Up on the thirteenth floor. It used to be... home." Freyd seemed wistful as he spoke. "It's a nice enough place, and on the edge of the safe zone, so no guards will bother us. But you should definitely get some rest before we go. I wouldn't dare travel through the void with you in this condition, which means we'll need to hoof it." Cleaning up up as best he could, Freyd swore to burn the soiled sheets afterwards as a precaution. Scooping her up in his arms he carried her delicately upstairs, assuming a bed might be waiting. The house itself was too tiny for it t

"Hrm. That's right. You haven't seen me fight in a while. I started tanking a few raids back, and really, really know how to piss off a mob. Somehow, I doubt this is a surprise." A scoundrel's grin perched itself on his lips, one arm still wrapped around her for as long as she needed, the other scouring scruff for ideas. "If closing off the void kept it at bay, I wonder if I could similarly coax it out at a time of our choosing. It.. wouldn't be pleasant, but..." He shrugged, basically making it all up as he went. Best laid plans, and all that. At this point, they were winging it w

Freyd half expected her to shatter into a thousand shimmering orange shards, like he'd once done. Wiping tears frozen to her cheeks away, he had a notion of where she was, even if their roads there had been very different. A smile, creasing youthful eyes masked behind a veneer of bearded age and sorrows. "I'm happy to hear you want to live," he whispered back, still holding her close and letting her soak up whatever heat she needed or wanted. This wasn't romance or lust, nor sordid scandal claiming purchase over the desire to merely help a friend in need. It felt... good, to know he

Holding her close, Freyd soothed her as best he could without truly knowing how. Giving comfort was still alien to him in so many ways… though.. .there had been lessons in tenderness along the way. Channeling memories of warmth and joy, he dismissed his armor and gauntlets to let her feel whatever seeming of human contact he might manage to offer. Eyes downturned, he watched one of his oldest friends suffer - for that’s what she truly was to him, though he’d never known precisely how to pin it down. Wiping her brow. Clearing the vile vomit spewing from her core, Freyd nursed her again

Holding her, as gently as he could while she convulsed atop his folded legs, Freyd ceased the skill’s flow as soon as he was able. “Did I do it wrong?” he wondered aloud, puzzled by the reaction. Was it working and the thing inside her was writhing as it withered, or was he making things worse? Does it feed on her pain too? No wonder it’s gotten so strong. It hurts…. Takeshi this hurts… “I’m trying Amari, but I don’t know what to do or how to make this better. This is different than before." Probably because they were different - both of them. So much had happe

“Don’t have daughters.” Spoken lightly, the comment slapped him harder than expected, as if the possibility of children had never even occurred to him. When? How?! Thrust aside just as quickly, Freyd felt he’d make a terrible father in any case. “Ahh…I probably fainted because I didn’t eat.” Right. Sure. It couldn’t possibly be the evil goop goblin you have guzzling up your darker impulses like a glutton at an all-you-can eat buffet? Freyd kept quiet, slathering up a wafer with some leftover Hollandaise and ramming it down his gob to keep his trap shut. “I’m like a ch

Sensing the strain building inside Elora without even having to look at her, Freyd’s hand reached out to cradle hers with surprising tenderness. Slowly scooping a mixture of granular sludge to his lips with his left, his eyes creased at the edges with wear while a calloused thumb ran reassuringly over her far fairer and daintier digits. She trembled even as her frustrations grew at the defensive gambits of a clever bit of sausage. Gentle, like the bliss of a lover’s press, the whorl of his thumb ran around and between the tension in her knuckles, easing with touch what clumsy words woul

"Hai!" A cheerful short bow given to his fellow captain's orders, it seemed only fair to show such respect after messing with her. This was their way, and he wouldn't change it for the world. "We'll find this butcher at a slaughterhouse about a mile from Glyndebourne - just far enough to keep the wind from carrying the smell. And gird your stomach's if you're at all squeamish. This place is quite the sight." Last time he visited Freyd defeated the Midnight Ripper, only to find himself what could only be described as a horde of meat golems. Creatures of all shapes and sizes, all had b

Watching and listening as Mari played show and tell like they were in arms dealer kindergarten, Freyd measured his responses by opening and closing cupboards he knew would be empty. Returning to the fire’s edge with a smattering of mismatched second hand dishes, he laid them out between them. The wasp thing just sounded unnecessarily complex. Wouldn’t a smoke bomb or modest irritant do the same trick? Why bother with the insects? Maybe it played against some subtle coding technicality that enabled it to avoid categorization as an environmental effect, and bypassed the over-relied up

“That happens sometimes.” "Sometimes? This has been happening more often?" Part of him wanted to scold her for being so dense to the threat she was incubating in her own self-inflicted blind spots. That was how it always started with her. She did because it was neat, fun or enticing, thought being relegated to later consideration. References to the absent-minded professor trope plagued his mind, with considerably enhanced lethality. "And what is that smell?!" Waving his hands before him while she removed her overgarments, he was too distracted by the stench to appreciate the wom

Eyes widening at the implausible sight playing out before him, he'd long since hoped to have put this behind him. And maybe he had, but clearly not Mari. Her baggage never seemed to leave, endlessly cycling back around like it was on some sort of infernal airport carousal that simply defied any effort to reclaim or remove it. Everyone was just along for the ride. “You can’t stop this.” "Like Hell, I can't." Freyd's voice sounded more certain than he felt, especially knowing the toll and time it had taken him to overcome what had followed. That catharsis had nearly killed him, mor

Midnight in Ilridge. Less a town than a fortified camp, its hollow ruins remained little more than the frontlines' vanguard outpost and toe hold on a floor seemingly designed to devour their sanity. Worse yet were the irreplaceable losses, compounded by constant grievous injuries. Too many players were rushing in overconfident and unprepared, returning mauled to within a sliver of total deletion. They had scouts enough. What they lacked were healers. Confronted with a need, Freyd did what he always did: he adapted. Skulking about in heavy armor was a waste of effort anyway, even if the ski

Elora’s tongue-lashing, through predicted, cut like the barbs of a devil’s nine-tailed whip. It was enough to see Freyd brace himself against the counter to endure it, palms spread out wide as if to distribute the withering scold. Eyes closed, he tried not to wince, knowing he’d earned what he was getting, regardless of best intentions. It still hurt. Breathes seething through clenched teeth, he heard her shuffling about, his own attention still solemnly focused on the sensation unjudging cabinetry upon which he had let his head rest. He’d done so many worse things deserving of scorn,