[He grits his teeth, and while he tries to maintain his composure, he can feel himself bristle. He hates the idea of anyone seeing him as using his injury as a crutch, using helplessness to protect himself from disappointment-- but to a degree, isn't that exactly what he's been doing?
He exhales slowly.]
We see things differently. [To say the least.] Before our meeting yesterday, would you have called us friends?
[His tone, at least, implies that he feels the same. Acquaintances, yes. Allies? Perhaps. But not friends, not quite yet.]
As such, I am in no position to impose upon you. You assume that I simply don't want to be a bother to anyone-- but were someone else in your place, rest assured, I would ask without hesitation. While we are acquaintances and I am certainly grateful for your time, as well as the offers you've made, it would be wrong to expect much else of you.
Nice words, but I still don't buy it. [She sets her fork down and sits back in the chair, one leg crossed over the knee and arms across her chest.]
Still doesn't change the fact that you've had almost, what, a year? Even if I gave you a few months, you had plenty of time and plenty of people to ask. Like your girlfriend, who should have figured out a few things at least. [A small scoff.]
So yeah, sure. Maybe you wouldn't ask me, but you had options before I came along. So where's the "no hesitation" for asking for basic tools to stop being a useless invalid?
[Those people all had better things to do, found it too difficult to spend much time in his company-- as he found it difficult to spend time in theirs. Iris, he reasons, would have been willing to go out of her way, and she already did a great deal for him-- almost too much for his liking, because at the end of the day, everything came down to the same point.
He was stubborn, and prideful, and didn't want to ask anyone for help. He hated that he had to. He hated that there were things he couldn't do for himself, and thus it was easier to pretend he didn't need the assistance at all.
He'd spent the year in mourning, not only for Noctis, but for who he himself had been.]
Tch.
[His jaw tightens, his breakfast now forgotten.]
Of course you manage to make it sound simple. It isn't. Asking them also requires they be present--
[But even as he says it, he knows that's shoving the responsibility off onto someone else. Unlike him, in all respects.]
There is no girlfriend. [It doesn't occur to him that she means Iris.] And I'm not useless.
[He's done plenty even without being able to read for himself, and yet there's no denying that having the tools to learn again would improve his quality of life.
It would also mean admitting, once and for all, that this wasn't temporary.]
[Aranea only sits there, watching and listening. She may not be able to see his entire expression due to his glasses, but she doesn't need it.]
It sounds simple because it is. You're the only one making it difficult.
[And of course, she's not holding back whatsoever.]
There are plenty of hunters around. I'm sure at least one of them could have been paid to at least train you whenever. We have airships that go out for scavenge runs. Could have a made a request with them.
So, what other excuse you gonna try?
[She has a feeling it is about his own pride, not "manners" or meekness. So her question is a daring one, as if either challenging or forcing him to acknowledge it. And none of it gentle.]
[Were they discussing any other topic, he would have appreciated her candor. That same straightforward nature he had found so refreshing the day before was now under his skin, probing at things and provoking thoughts that he felt were better left untouched.
He grips the edge of the table and pushes himself to his feet, moving to lean his weight against the counter, bracing himself with his back to her.]
Leave.
[His voice is quiet but stern, steely where he had previously shown manners. He would not resort to crass language, certainly not now, but the conversation was one he no longer wanted to have.
[The response is one she both did and did not expect. Rather, she expected several possibilities. Lashing anger, denial, acceptance. Telling her to leave? Actually, that fits in there.
The first two.]
That's a good one.
[There's no malice in her voice, just that usual dryness as the chair scrapes back, her heel thuds against the floor before she stands, and then walking to gather her things.]
Hope you grow out of your "manners" soon.
[No, she's definitely not going to apologize. Nor is she going to grow any more sensitive or delicate (not like she ever really was to begin with). And while she still isn't saying it directly, the sarcasm and pointed use of his own words is enough of a hint that she knows it's not that at all.
And that she knows he knows it, too, even if he isn't really acknowledging it.
So if that really is it, she'll just head out on her own. As far as she's concerned, everything is off and she's going to go back out down and do her real work.]
[He says nothing. For now, that is it. He lets her see herself out, his grip going white-knuckled against the edge of the counter. Her words cut deep-- and she's absolutely right. He hates that she is. None of it is news to him, but accepting it? Accepting it is another matter entirely, one he's done his damndest not to dwell on.
When Noct had still been with them, Ignis had been so focused on fulfilling his duty that he'd never even considered sparing a moment to feel sorry for himself. Without that purpose driving him forward, what was he now?
It's six months before they cross paths again. Ignis had put the time to good use, distancing himself from the organization and clerical work that had filled much of his first year following Noct's disappearance. He had regained much of his combat prowess; while he had been forced to alter his style somewhat to suit, he was able to hunt effectively once more. Most times, he ventured out without a partner-- only occasionally did he join forces with Prompto or the Amicitias, as they had all continued to keep their distance from one another over the past several months with few exceptions.
This hunt, too, was one he had undertaken alone, which was why he stiffened at the sound of very human footsteps approaching from the opposite direction. They were slow and steady, heavily armored-- but whoever it was, he was certain they had no business here, even as he called one of his daggers into his right hand.]
[Everything that had transpired between her and Ignis was practically forgotten. At first she had wondered if he'd show his sorry ass, but after a couple of days, it was time to head back out. The moment the ship ascended was the moment she returned to her life of hunting and helping escort salvage runs. There were times when she had to coordinate with the former Marshal—Cor Leonis—and it really didn't take too long for her to start taking more command, especially for longer excursions out into Gralea and Altissia—especially to Gralea, as she and her men knew Niflheim better than most of the others.
But while she doesn't mind the long trips, just being able to do some good ol' fashioned daemon hunting is a good stress reliever. And that is exactly what she is doing now. Spear out, she slowly moves in on the location where it's said the daemon—a Mindflayer—was last spotted. It's said to be a tough one, taken down a few good men already. Given her own resilience and skill, it only makes sense that she tries to take this on.
Alone.
Maybe stupid, but she'd rather not risk her men on this.
So when she does hear a voice, she starts, not expecting another person. But then when she recognizes the speaker, her flashlight just barely illuminating his figure, she can't help but scoff.]
[His breath catches in his throat as he immediately places her voice, exhaling a moment later, a low hiss of air that does nothing to distract him from the tension that's suddenly singing its way through his body.
Of all the hunters he could possibly have run into.]
That's not for you to say. [He's fully capable of doing this, and doing it on his own, thank you.] Don't tell me you want to split the bounty.
I don't want to split anything. [Money is still a great motivating factor for her, all right.
But before she can say more, there's a sudden chill, a dark silence that fills the void. For Aranea, she always had a small tingle that crawled up her spear arm whenever a daemon is about to arrive, and she is feeling it now.]
But looks like we won't have much of a choice. Get ready.
[He'd been ready even before her arrival, and he steels himself for what's to come as he turns himself in the demon's direction on instinct. The air around them shifts, and that familiar groan sounds from beneath the earth just before the demon itself takes form, as if conjuring itself from the aether.
He can't see it, but he doesn't need to in order to be able to strike. Without his sight, he was that much more aware of the way the air moved, the way sound cut through it, the way magic coursed.
He could do this. With or without her, the demon would be slain. He launches himself forward, having almost regained the nimble grace he'd been known so well for in the past, conjuring a second dagger as he sends himself into a spiral, slicing upwards. His blade meets daemon flesh, and a smile pulls at one side of his mouth.
[Honestly, Aranea hadn't been sure what to expect in terms of how Ignis would be in terms of fighting. Launching himself right into the Mindflayer's face was not it. She's not sure if that was supposed to be impressive, but it looked more stupid to her.]
Well look at you—guess an old dog can learn new tricks.
[After letting Ignis have his little opening strike glory, Aranea joins in the fray, taking it from behind since he had effectively gained its attention at the front. As it shrieks, gathering its magic into its hands, she thrusts her spear forward for a deep upward slash, knocking it off balance and disrupting the spell cast. Of course it's going to take much more than that, but she's already jumping back and getting ready for another strike.]
[There was something to be said for not being able to see his enemy in the traditional sense. For starters, the shock factor was gone-- which meant that after exercising due caution, throwing himself into the fray was much less of an ordeal than it once might have been.
He hears Aranea circle around back, taking advantage of his assault to launch a pincer attack, which can only work in their favor. He slices again, feeling himself sever one of the beast's tentacles and causing it to let out a high-pitched keening noise. The warm crackle of magic makes itself known, mounting in the air surrounding, and Ignis bounds backwards just enough to put himself out of the daemon's immediate reach.]
Not quite an 'old' dog just yet.
[He grimaces, producing an elemental grenade and tossing it directly at the Mindflayer with almost alarming precision.]
[While Ignis goes for the tentacle, Aranea swings her spear to slice off another.]
Could have fooled me—what are you, 40?
[Whether or not Ignis missed the battlefield bickering, he's getting it now. And when she sees him setting up for the magic grenade, she jumps back to get out of the way. However, she will also throw her spear so that it pierces through another tentacle, keeping the Mindflayer in place. Even if Ignis throw is good, this will guarantee a direct hit.
And it's a good hit, the daemon shrieking in pain and anger—but it still has 75% HP has a lot left to it, and if anything, it may be growing angrier, as if finding Ignis's use of magic somehow offensive. So after wrenching itself free from Aranea's spear and teleport away. But where?]
[The retort is offered effortlessly and without hesitation; it's easy to fall back into the habit of bantering while engaged in combat, even if his partner is different this time around. He's always appreciated the levity it afforded the situation.
That shriek pierces the air, followed by the twisting of aether-- the daemon is on the move now, and Ignis goes tense, alert, ready to pull himself out of its grasp at a moment's notice. He, however, is not the target the daemon picks, reappearing just behind Aranea and letting loose a thick, choking cloud of foul-smelling smoke before it begins calling upon its magic once more.]
[Wow, 25, really? She would have retorted, but the Mindflayer had disappeared and now she had to focus. Where did that bastard—
Too late does she sense the daemon behind, and while she quickly jumps away, she coughs as the smoke filters through into her helmet. She had tried to avoid breathing it in, knowing full well of the danger, but it's too late.
She staggers a moment, her head reeling and thick as the effects take hold of her. Although she tries to shake it out, the voice is muddled.
The daemon...right, she had to kill the Mindflayer. Was there someone else there with her? Her thoughts are blurred as she tries to remember, but when she turns to look at the voice, she doesn't see a person.
She sees the Mindflayer, almost as if it's taunting her.
Not realizing that it's really Ignis, she runs forward, jumps, and surges downward, her spear right at where she thought the Mindflayer's chest would be.]
[He doesn't need to see her to know that something isn't right. The Mindflayer keeps its distance, calling down spells, and no sooner than Ignis roll out of the path of a well-aimed Thundara does he find himself assaulted-- but not by the daemon, not this time.
He moves, but not quite quickly enough. Though worse damage could have been done, he narrowly avoids a head-on collision with the dragoon as she leaps on him, the tip of the spear only narrowly missing piercing him square in the chest and instead making short work of the sleeve of his jacket, leaving a deep gash in its wake and forcing his shoulder to push the wrong way against its socket.]
Aranea!
[His voice is strangled, pained, but he steels himself long enough to send another grenade in the Mindflayer's direction, the daemon making enough racket to make him an easy target. For that, at the very least, he was thankful-- but the battle could quickly become a losing one if Aranea did not regain herself.]
[Again she hears the voice, but it's garbled, distant. And sounding more and more like a daemon instead.]
Don't worry I'll make this quick—[She readies her spear once more.]—and painful! Hyah!!
[She steps forward for a powerful upward swing which she can quickly swing again for a downward thrust if it misses. She is clearly still under the effects, and it's not clear how much longer it will last.]
[For the first time in months, he feels true terror.
He never felt it when hunting daemons. He knew what he was up against then, could use sound and the distinct feel of magic to navigate his encounters with them, but this was something different. Aranea was not a demon, but a single-mindedly determined human being who was now convinced that he was the enemy.
He'd been her enemy once before, and none of them had escaped that battle unscathed. Now, limited though he was, he was prepared for daemons-- but not for this.
He manages to avoid the first swing, but the downward thrust connects, and he crumples to the ground as he loses his footing, biting back the urge to let out a roar of pain as he counters with his own blade, aiming to knock her spear off-balance and, if he's lucky, out of her hands.]
Focus-- [His voice is strained now, and he has to push his way through the words as he hurls another dagger towards the Mindflayer, bathed in a burst of Sagefire.] --on the enemy! It's pitting us against one another!
[To Aranea, the blade looks like a tentacle and yet...the sound she hears is more of a metallic clang! and she feels a stronger pressure behind it than she would expect of a fleshier appendage. She also feels the heat behind her from the true Mindflayer, and that puzzles her. Puzzles her enough to finally glance back and see...something burning.
Something writhing and screaming with...arms...robes...
The Mindflayer? But that's not possible because she's been fighting it the whole time. Had there been two? No, she swears there's only—
What is only a couple of seconds feels far longer, especially for Ignis most likely. But it's during this time that the hold on her mind looses, the confusion fading. And that's when her eyes widen and she jerks backwards.]
[The reprieve that her confusion grants him is enough, and he seizes the moment to push himself back to his feet, swaying in the process as he feels the effects of pain and bloodloss. Disoriented though he is, he's determined to finish this fight before it can escalate any further, although he may have to fall back on more grenades to see it through to the end, Aranea's attacks having hurt his mobility.]
Feeling a bit touched, were you?
[There's no bitterness in his voice, at least, no accusation-- but they don't have time to discuss it now. He focuses to gain his heading, utilizing another elemental grenade to call lightning down upon the daemon, causing it to shriek as its body began to seize.]
[For once she can't retort, here senses quickly coming back. The light is dim, but she can see him sway. She knows her spear had connected, but where—
No, not the time. Ignis is right, they have to finish this daemon. And now it's personal. No one takes over her mind and gets away with it lightly.]
On it!
[Dashing forward, there's a sharp inhalation of breath as she leaps high upward. In the air, feeling the cold wind rushing against her wind, all remaining traces of the smoke clears and all she's left is clarity. Her body turns as she brings the spear into position, before slamming her boots down against the bottom of edge of the blade.]
Take this!
[With all her strength, she plummets toward the flailing Mindflayer, the tip of her spear piercing through the ridge of its shoulders and tearing completely through. A grisly end, but once it gives its final death throes, it disappears back into the darkness. One sorry soul freed.
But she doesn't stop to watch. She doesn't even stop to pull out her spear now firmly embedded in the hard ground. Instead she turns toward Ignis and...not run, but she does hurry over to him.]
[He doesn't let himself sag again until he's certain the daemon is gone, its deathwail piecing the air before it goes silent, dissipating and taking the foul, oppressive aura it bore with it. Only then does he stumble forward, going down on one knee rather than fighting hold himself up on an injured leg. He grimaces, calling his daggers back to him through what little magic had been left behind in Noctis' wake.]
Nng--
[He stifles himself a second time, pulling a familiar flask from inside his jacket. Curatives wouldn't undo all of the damage, but it would help to take an edge off the pain, and accelerate healing.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He exhales slowly.]
We see things differently. [To say the least.] Before our meeting yesterday, would you have called us friends?
[He's going somewhere with this.]
no subject
I wouldn't really call us that now.
[However, she may have an idea of what he's getting at. But she'll let him explain.]
no subject
[His tone, at least, implies that he feels the same. Acquaintances, yes. Allies? Perhaps. But not friends, not quite yet.]
As such, I am in no position to impose upon you. You assume that I simply don't want to be a bother to anyone-- but were someone else in your place, rest assured, I would ask without hesitation. While we are acquaintances and I am certainly grateful for your time, as well as the offers you've made, it would be wrong to expect much else of you.
no subject
Still doesn't change the fact that you've had almost, what, a year? Even if I gave you a few months, you had plenty of time and plenty of people to ask. Like your girlfriend, who should have figured out a few things at least. [A small scoff.]
So yeah, sure. Maybe you wouldn't ask me, but you had options before I came along. So where's the "no hesitation" for asking for basic tools to stop being a useless invalid?
no subject
He was stubborn, and prideful, and didn't want to ask anyone for help. He hated that he had to. He hated that there were things he couldn't do for himself, and thus it was easier to pretend he didn't need the assistance at all.
He'd spent the year in mourning, not only for Noctis, but for who he himself had been.]
Tch.
[His jaw tightens, his breakfast now forgotten.]
Of course you manage to make it sound simple. It isn't. Asking them also requires they be present--
[But even as he says it, he knows that's shoving the responsibility off onto someone else. Unlike him, in all respects.]
There is no girlfriend. [It doesn't occur to him that she means Iris.] And I'm not useless.
[He's done plenty even without being able to read for himself, and yet there's no denying that having the tools to learn again would improve his quality of life.
It would also mean admitting, once and for all, that this wasn't temporary.]
no subject
It sounds simple because it is. You're the only one making it difficult.
[And of course, she's not holding back whatsoever.]
There are plenty of hunters around. I'm sure at least one of them could have been paid to at least train you whenever. We have airships that go out for scavenge runs. Could have a made a request with them.
So, what other excuse you gonna try?
[She has a feeling it is about his own pride, not "manners" or meekness. So her question is a daring one, as if either challenging or forcing him to acknowledge it. And none of it gentle.]
no subject
He grips the edge of the table and pushes himself to his feet, moving to lean his weight against the counter, bracing himself with his back to her.]
Leave.
[His voice is quiet but stern, steely where he had previously shown manners. He would not resort to crass language, certainly not now, but the conversation was one he no longer wanted to have.
Forget training. He'd do it on his own.]
no subject
The first two.]
That's a good one.
[There's no malice in her voice, just that usual dryness as the chair scrapes back, her heel thuds against the floor before she stands, and then walking to gather her things.]
Hope you grow out of your "manners" soon.
[No, she's definitely not going to apologize. Nor is she going to grow any more sensitive or delicate (not like she ever really was to begin with). And while she still isn't saying it directly, the sarcasm and pointed use of his own words is enough of a hint that she knows it's not that at all.
And that she knows he knows it, too, even if he isn't really acknowledging it.
So if that really is it, she'll just head out on her own. As far as she's concerned, everything is off and she's going to go back out down and do her real work.]
bloop bloop bloop timeskip!
When Noct had still been with them, Ignis had been so focused on fulfilling his duty that he'd never even considered sparing a moment to feel sorry for himself. Without that purpose driving him forward, what was he now?
It's six months before they cross paths again. Ignis had put the time to good use, distancing himself from the organization and clerical work that had filled much of his first year following Noct's disappearance. He had regained much of his combat prowess; while he had been forced to alter his style somewhat to suit, he was able to hunt effectively once more. Most times, he ventured out without a partner-- only occasionally did he join forces with Prompto or the Amicitias, as they had all continued to keep their distance from one another over the past several months with few exceptions.
This hunt, too, was one he had undertaken alone, which was why he stiffened at the sound of very human footsteps approaching from the opposite direction. They were slow and steady, heavily armored-- but whoever it was, he was certain they had no business here, even as he called one of his daggers into his right hand.]
You shouldn't be here.
such a loser and poor date
But while she doesn't mind the long trips, just being able to do some good ol' fashioned daemon hunting is a good stress reliever. And that is exactly what she is doing now. Spear out, she slowly moves in on the location where it's said the daemon—a Mindflayer—was last spotted. It's said to be a tough one, taken down a few good men already. Given her own resilience and skill, it only makes sense that she tries to take this on.
Alone.
Maybe stupid, but she'd rather not risk her men on this.
So when she does hear a voice, she starts, not expecting another person. But then when she recognizes the speaker, her flashlight just barely illuminating his figure, she can't help but scoff.]
I should be the one telling you that.
[Hello, Ignis.]
so rude, he was good to you
Of all the hunters he could possibly have run into.]
That's not for you to say. [He's fully capable of doing this, and doing it on his own, thank you.] Don't tell me you want to split the bounty.
kicking a girl out is not being "good"
But before she can say more, there's a sudden chill, a dark silence that fills the void. For Aranea, she always had a small tingle that crawled up her spear arm whenever a daemon is about to arrive, and she is feeling it now.]
But looks like we won't have much of a choice. Get ready.
she was so going to leave anyway
[He'd been ready even before her arrival, and he steels himself for what's to come as he turns himself in the demon's direction on instinct. The air around them shifts, and that familiar groan sounds from beneath the earth just before the demon itself takes form, as if conjuring itself from the aether.
He can't see it, but he doesn't need to in order to be able to strike. Without his sight, he was that much more aware of the way the air moved, the way sound cut through it, the way magic coursed.
He could do this. With or without her, the demon would be slain. He launches himself forward, having almost regained the nimble grace he'd been known so well for in the past, conjuring a second dagger as he sends himself into a spiral, slicing upwards. His blade meets daemon flesh, and a smile pulls at one side of his mouth.
Who's helpless now?]
his cooking wasn't that great anyway
Well look at you—guess an old dog can learn new tricks.
[After letting Ignis have his little opening strike glory, Aranea joins in the fray, taking it from behind since he had effectively gained its attention at the front. As it shrieks, gathering its magic into its hands, she thrusts her spear forward for a deep upward slash, knocking it off balance and disrupting the spell cast. Of course it's going to take much more than that, but she's already jumping back and getting ready for another strike.]
RUDE also BLINDSIDE LINK 1.5
He hears Aranea circle around back, taking advantage of his assault to launch a pincer attack, which can only work in their favor. He slices again, feeling himself sever one of the beast's tentacles and causing it to let out a high-pitched keening noise. The warm crackle of magic makes itself known, mounting in the air surrounding, and Ignis bounds backwards just enough to put himself out of the daemon's immediate reach.]
Not quite an 'old' dog just yet.
[He grimaces, producing an elemental grenade and tossing it directly at the Mindflayer with almost alarming precision.]
EGGS TOO LIMP and awww yeah get them style points
Could have fooled me—what are you, 40?
[Whether or not Ignis missed the battlefield bickering, he's getting it now. And when she sees him setting up for the magic grenade, she jumps back to get out of the way. However, she will also throw her spear so that it pierces through another tentacle, keeping the Mindflayer in place. Even if Ignis throw is good, this will guarantee a direct hit.
And it's a good hit, the daemon shrieking in pain and anger—but it still
has 75% HPhas a lot left to it, and if anything, it may be growing angrier, as if finding Ignis's use of magic somehow offensive. So after wrenching itself free from Aranea's spear and teleport away. But where?]THEY WERE DELICIOUS
[The retort is offered effortlessly and without hesitation; it's easy to fall back into the habit of bantering while engaged in combat, even if his partner is different this time around. He's always appreciated the levity it afforded the situation.
That shriek pierces the air, followed by the twisting of aether-- the daemon is on the move now, and Ignis goes tense, alert, ready to pull himself out of its grasp at a moment's notice. He, however, is not the target the daemon picks, reappearing just behind Aranea and letting loose a thick, choking cloud of foul-smelling smoke before it begins calling upon its magic once more.]
Aranea!
COULD HAVE BEEN FIRMER
Too late does she sense the daemon behind, and while she quickly jumps away, she coughs as the smoke filters through into her helmet. She had tried to avoid breathing it in, knowing full well of the danger, but it's too late.
She staggers a moment, her head reeling and thick as the effects take hold of her. Although she tries to shake it out, the voice is muddled.
The daemon...right, she had to kill the Mindflayer. Was there someone else there with her? Her thoughts are blurred as she tries to remember, but when she turns to look at the voice, she doesn't see a person.
She sees the Mindflayer, almost as if it's taunting her.
Not realizing that it's really Ignis, she runs forward, jumps, and surges downward, her spear right at where she thought the Mindflayer's chest would be.]
THIS IS NOT THE TIME
He moves, but not quite quickly enough. Though worse damage could have been done, he narrowly avoids a head-on collision with the dragoon as she leaps on him, the tip of the spear only narrowly missing piercing him square in the chest and instead making short work of the sleeve of his jacket, leaving a deep gash in its wake and forcing his shoulder to push the wrong way against its socket.]
Aranea!
[His voice is strangled, pained, but he steels himself long enough to send another grenade in the Mindflayer's direction, the daemon making enough racket to make him an easy target. For that, at the very least, he was thankful-- but the battle could quickly become a losing one if Aranea did not regain herself.]
You've lost your wits!
THAT'S WHAT HE SAID
Don't worry I'll make this quick—[She readies her spear once more.]—and painful! Hyah!!
[She steps forward for a powerful upward swing which she can quickly swing again for a downward thrust if it misses. She is clearly still under the effects, and it's not clear how much longer it will last.]
YOU'RE TEARING HIM APART literally
He never felt it when hunting daemons. He knew what he was up against then, could use sound and the distinct feel of magic to navigate his encounters with them, but this was something different. Aranea was not a demon, but a single-mindedly determined human being who was now convinced that he was the enemy.
He'd been her enemy once before, and none of them had escaped that battle unscathed. Now, limited though he was, he was prepared for daemons-- but not for this.
He manages to avoid the first swing, but the downward thrust connects, and he crumples to the ground as he loses his footing, biting back the urge to let out a roar of pain as he counters with his own blade, aiming to knock her spear off-balance and, if he's lucky, out of her hands.]
Focus-- [His voice is strained now, and he has to push his way through the words as he hurls another dagger towards the Mindflayer, bathed in a burst of Sagefire.] --on the enemy! It's pitting us against one another!
NOT HER FAULT HE'S EASY kind of
Something writhing and screaming with...arms...robes...
The Mindflayer? But that's not possible because she's been fighting it the whole time. Had there been two? No, she swears there's only—
What is only a couple of seconds feels far longer, especially for Ignis most likely. But it's during this time that the hold on her mind looses, the confusion fading. And that's when her eyes widen and she jerks backwards.]
What the hell, Ignis—!?
[Why was he— What did she— Oh shit.]
you're going to sully his excellent reputation
Feeling a bit touched, were you?
[There's no bitterness in his voice, at least, no accusation-- but they don't have time to discuss it now. He focuses to gain his heading, utilizing another elemental grenade to call lightning down upon the daemon, causing it to shriek as its body began to seize.]
Now! Overwhelm it while it's incapacitated!
pretty sure he can do it on his own
No, not the time. Ignis is right, they have to finish this daemon. And now it's personal. No one takes over her mind and gets away with it lightly.]
On it!
[Dashing forward, there's a sharp inhalation of breath as she leaps high upward. In the air, feeling the cold wind rushing against her wind, all remaining traces of the smoke clears and all she's left is clarity. Her body turns as she brings the spear into position, before slamming her boots down against the bottom of edge of the blade.]
Take this!
[With all her strength, she plummets toward the flailing Mindflayer, the tip of her spear piercing through the ridge of its shoulders and tearing completely through. A grisly end, but once it gives its final death throes, it disappears back into the darkness. One sorry soul freed.
But she doesn't stop to watch. She doesn't even stop to pull out her spear now firmly embedded in the hard ground. Instead she turns toward Ignis and...not run, but she does hurry over to him.]
:|
Nng--
[He stifles himself a second time, pulling a familiar flask from inside his jacket. Curatives wouldn't undo all of the damage, but it would help to take an edge off the pain, and accelerate healing.]
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I SAW THAT
:D
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