and i'm just a problema knife to the
spine had taken more casualties than a blinding sense of trust; it, too, had nicked and frayed the tethers that once staunchly bound olive to lorien. thus, it were neither duty nor loyalty to their queen – her
sister – that drove the gentry to heel and to heed the call-to-arms in faraway places. nor were her pursuit of chaos made to sate some sick desire for entertainment, however cruel, and however tempting. no — olive sought to abandon the safety of the plains and preferrable inaction for the sake of
a girl.
she were a fleet-footed thing, and the panic that lanced her every step rendered olive’s intent to outpace futile. still, she adhered to the haphazard path @
Elodie carved en route to the epicenter of anticipated battle, relenting from speed only once she’d breached the outskirts of that which distantly unfolded. for a moment, olive loses sight of her target as the ensuing carnage inspires awe, inspires
dread; and yet, just as swiftly as she’d gawked this way and that, does the pixie manually recenter her focus upon that which drove her to these gods-forsaken sands in the first place. a flash of red, flecked with snow, and olive swerves past the bodies of combatants and spectators alike to rally to the little sweetling she’d watch turn from babe to budding woman.
quiet. the sprite were never quiet, but her tongue stills without jest as she skids to a pause at elodie’s left shoulder. for a moment, she offers nothing but her company: however insignificant or comforting it were or were not. that is, until she traces elodie’s glazed stare to— to
dragos, and all the brutality he invites. and suddenly, olive, too, were fraught with too many emotions, and all at once.
“elodie,” comes the voice of a stranger from her own lips, firm and self-assured – almost
matronly – as she unconsciously moves to intercept the girl’s line of vision.
“elodie…” she reiterates as the cogs churn beneath a furrowed brow, and she’s reminded of
faie as her eyes hover upon the youthful, soft features of the halston.
“if— if something happens, you won’t unsee it. not ever. not when you sleep at night, not when the sun lights the fields in brightest gold, not when you look into the eyes of the ones you love most.” it were the same advice she’d offered to faie, once. the same advice she’d wished had been imparted upon
her the day sersie came for vengeance, and left with
nothing instead. but olive would not dare deny elodie her choice, and after a pregnant pause wherein she searches the girl’s face for anything and everything, olive steps aside.
she steps aside, and a flash of
plum emerges from the surrounding pandemonium: hazy and drenched in foreboding shades of red.
and olive – haloed by the agony and torment of war, and grief, and gore, and loss –
smiles.
she erupts from her standstill without forethought, leaving elodie to sit with her words and a murmured
“i have to...” that were meaningless to any and
all but she and the victim set within her crosshairs. her target’s audience – situated however close or far – were largely disregarded by olive as she attempted to charge from the rear with unadulterated, bounding footfalls. striving to make the final leap with forelimbs outstretched and nails sheathed, olive hoped to collide with @
Anniston and send them tumbling forward.
a laugh soft on her lips – teeming with genuine mirth – were uttered just for anni: a goading
play along, if ever there were one, as a convincing snarl contorted her features.
no one will ever hurt you again.olive vs. anniston
for
dominance
one of three
hits: Rolling 4d20: 12 + 6 + 1 + 15
dodge: Rolling 9d20: 13 + 12 + 15 + 3 + 14 + 9 + 20 + 11 + 6
luck: Rolling 5d20: 16 + 14 + 12 + 17 + 15
i’d marry you with paper rings
Warmhearted
Clear
Night
Dusk
Winter
