He would not have come if it was not for her.
She had done him the very same courtesy, after all, of being there when his mothers stared down the very same threat of war. More than once, even if before he had not wished it. Now, he recognizes that she had been the very thing keeping him together, grounded and focused. Unaffected by the way war usually affects him.
Radahn may style himself as worthy, but he is powerful in words alone. In the battlefield, he is little more than a gangly soldier, who holds his steel while shaking. Even Talisa faces the blight with better grace than he does. But it is not the pain or threat of losing that he fears.
The smell of blood is overwhelming. He remembers just how heavy it felt in his stomach when Faustine took his eye.
So he lingers on the sidelines, at first. Unwilling to commit himself to battle but fervently searching for the one thing that was enough to draw him from the mountains to this bloodied, sullied beach.
And then he finds her, with her forehead braced against that of another man before he steals away to battle. Despite himself, a sinking feeling takes root in his gut, and his heart seizes in a way he does not expect. Different than mere jealousy, or envy—but he cannot describe it just yet, other than that it's scathing, a grating deep to the very bone.
He has no time to protest it, however, as a large striped beast shoves his way through the crowd and assails himself upon @Jazmin long before she's had time to even see her companion off to his own battle. Dread quickly replaces whatever hesitation or contempt that was there before, and he's stuck between charging into battle after her and staying his paw on the sidelines, knowing there was so little he could actually do.
It comes as a heavy realization, one enough to steal his breath and turn his stomach: He is powerless. And there is no feeling worse than that, especially to a boy who once believed himself a god.
He steps forward without thinking. He acts with instinct rather than logic for the first time in his life. The warring, disorganized quarrel of his thoughts converges onto one single thing. Her.
Unhand her,
he warns @Vincent as he approaches, but despite the way he steels himself he still cannot quell that feeling of powerlessness. I will ask only once.
Then what?, he asks himself. Is he really willing to fight for her? To die for her?
I am, he answers without hesitation. Better to die for her than for any god who's never cared to listen.
Please tag me after seven days.
He is open to premade plots as well as unplanned threads.
He is open to any IC consequences.