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.]
[Seeing him go down to his knee makes her run the last few steps, a hand reaching out to grab his—no, wait, she can't grab his shoulder because that is totally not how it should looks. Now that she has the light on him, she can really see the damage, and for a rare moment her face goes blank, almost fearful.]
Shit, Ignis, I—I'm sorry—
[As she swears under her breath, she reaches into her own satchel hidden beneath her side skirt and pulls out another potion because one is definitely not going to be enough. It's also not going to do much more good, but it will give them some more time to slow the blood flow so doesn't bleed out. But now is not the time to bumble apologies, she needs to focus on what is in front of her.
And that is a big, bloody mess.
Fortunately she's quick to get over shock and surprises, and while dispensing the potion with one hand, she reaches behind her to press a button on the radio communicator to her airship.]
I'm calling Biggs and Wedge, there's no way you can walk back like this.
[That may also be the sound of buckles unsnapping and fabric ripping as she uses that half skirt for impromptu bandage wrappings.]
[He wants to wave off the apology, because it surely hadn't been intentional-- he'd had similar experiences with Noctis and the others, but the different then was that there had been more of them, people to intervene. Gladio had always been there with his shield, or Noctis would bodily pull the affected combatant away from the rest. This time, it had been just the two of them, and he'd only had himself to fall back on. Normally, that was the way he liked it-- not having to depend on anyone else, but he was grateful when she mentioned calling for her men, gritting his teeth to ground himself.]
I'll be fine, once we're back. -- thank you.
[Because he knows better than to argue that, knows better than to try and walk. Still, he calls his cane out of thin air, grabbing hold of it to support himself as best he can while still on the ground, exhaling slowly as he feels Aranea begin to tend to his wounds with makeshift bandages. She was quick and decisive, and that was good.]
Are you hurt?
[Because it's entirely possible that he's not the only one who was walking away from this fight with an injury. At least they were both walking away from it to begin with.]
Looks like you still have enough energy to be stupidly polite. [While his concerns could be commended, she finds it irritating her instead. He's the one with the grievous injuries, not her, and while unintentional, she was the one who inflicted them. His...manners frustrated her somehow.]
Aside from being sorely pissed at being used, no. I'm fine.
[Of course she doesn't sound happy about that, and she may have used a little more force than intended when tying the ends together on his thigh.]
[He grunts softly as she ties that bandage a little tighter than expected, but the pressure will only help to stem the flow of blood. At the very least, he's accepting the help, and that's more than he's allowed himself to do in the past.]
Good.
[Not that he blames her for being furious.]
Consider it a good sign that I'm able to talk at all. You're a formidable opponent.
Must have hit your head if you're trying flattery. [Sarcasm, of course, But it is true that it's a good sign he's talking.] But you should have figured that out the first time.
[She moves to his arm next, pulling back the ruined sleeve and even ripping it further. Huh, has she ever seen him without sleeves?]
[Trust him, he hadn't missed that the first time around. He grimaces again as his sleeve is pulled free. Some part of him is cringing at the thought of the jacket being ruined further, but he knows there's no saving it now-- some things are more important, after all.
The arm beneath it is nicely mangled, bent in the wrong direction, and only adrenaline is keeping it from being completely agonizing. The gash left by the tip of her spear runs deep, as well, almost down to his elbow.]
[There's a low, sharp hiss, her usual firm touch now light as it brushes against his skin. That alone should be a good enough hint.]
Good news, you'll have some cool new scars. [The bad news is left unsaid.] But it'll heal if treated right. I'll have medics on the ship, but you'll need more than that once we get back. Definitely not going out anytime soon.
Want me to snap your arm back in place? [Because she can if he can't wait for a professional.]
Gonna need more than just scars for that. [A light, wry smirk as she finishes wrapping his arm before looking at where his shoulder should be.]
But all right... This is gonna hurt.
[That is her only warning before he will feel a strong grip first on his upper arm and then on the back of his shoulder blade. Gritting her teeth, she forces the arm forward and up back into its socket.]
[Consider that as close to resignation he'll allow himself to come. The sound his shoulder makes as it's snapped back into place is jarring enough, but the pain is enough to make the darkness he lives in go momentarily white and full of stars. He bites back a sharp cry, stifling himself.]
By the Six. [But it needed to be done.] At least it was quick.
Really? You don't even swear? [Some light dry humor that could have gone dirtier, but she's focused on his injury. She lightly touches the area, feeling to make sure it really is set in there.
Nor has she forgotten about what we said earlier. Trusting her. Not that it's overly important and she more or less dismissed it, but the sentiment it invokes is what helps make her a little gentler than she might have been otherwise.]
But it should be set, so don't move it. I think I can make a sling...
[The skirt gives her a lot of material to work with at least.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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Shit, Ignis, I—I'm sorry—
[As she swears under her breath, she reaches into her own satchel hidden beneath her side skirt and pulls out another potion because one is definitely not going to be enough. It's also not going to do much more good, but it will give them some more time to slow the blood flow so doesn't bleed out. But now is not the time to bumble apologies, she needs to focus on what is in front of her.
And that is a big, bloody mess.
Fortunately she's quick to get over shock and surprises, and while dispensing the potion with one hand, she reaches behind her to press a button on the radio communicator to her airship.]
I'm calling Biggs and Wedge, there's no way you can walk back like this.
[That may also be the sound of buckles unsnapping and fabric ripping as she uses that half skirt for impromptu bandage wrappings.]
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I'll be fine, once we're back. -- thank you.
[Because he knows better than to argue that, knows better than to try and walk. Still, he calls his cane out of thin air, grabbing hold of it to support himself as best he can while still on the ground, exhaling slowly as he feels Aranea begin to tend to his wounds with makeshift bandages. She was quick and decisive, and that was good.]
Are you hurt?
[Because it's entirely possible that he's not the only one who was walking away from this fight with an injury. At least they were both walking away from it to begin with.]
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Aside from being sorely pissed at being used, no. I'm fine.
[Of course she doesn't sound happy about that, and she may have used a little more force than intended when tying the ends together on his thigh.]
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Good.
[Not that he blames her for being furious.]
Consider it a good sign that I'm able to talk at all. You're a formidable opponent.
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[She moves to his arm next, pulling back the ruined sleeve and even ripping it further. Huh, has she ever seen him without sleeves?]
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[Trust him, he hadn't missed that the first time around. He grimaces again as his sleeve is pulled free. Some part of him is cringing at the thought of the jacket being ruined further, but he knows there's no saving it now-- some things are more important, after all.
The arm beneath it is nicely mangled, bent in the wrong direction, and only adrenaline is keeping it from being completely agonizing. The gash left by the tip of her spear runs deep, as well, almost down to his elbow.]
How bad?
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Good news, you'll have some cool new scars. [The bad news is left unsaid.] But it'll heal if treated right. I'll have medics on the ship, but you'll need more than that once we get back. Definitely not going out anytime soon.
Want me to snap your arm back in place? [Because she can if he can't wait for a professional.]
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Perhaps I should be grateful that I've been told scars make me 'ruggedly handsome.'
[The way he says it makes it clear he's not entirely convinced-- nor does he put much stock in such remarks, but to despair is decidedly unlike him.
He exhales again, steeling himself.]
... yes, please. I trust you.
[More than he would trust some medic he'd never met.]
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But all right... This is gonna hurt.
[That is her only warning before he will feel a strong grip first on his upper arm and then on the back of his shoulder blade. Gritting her teeth, she forces the arm forward and up back into its socket.]
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[Consider that as close to resignation he'll allow himself to come. The sound his shoulder makes as it's snapped back into place is jarring enough, but the pain is enough to make the darkness he lives in go momentarily white and full of stars. He bites back a sharp cry, stifling himself.]
By the Six. [But it needed to be done.] At least it was quick.
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Nor has she forgotten about what we said earlier. Trusting her. Not that it's overly important and she more or less dismissed it, but the sentiment it invokes is what helps make her a little gentler than she might have been otherwise.]
But it should be set, so don't move it. I think I can make a sling...
[The skirt gives her a lot of material to work with at least.]
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I SAW THAT
:D
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