Rosalyn Rocha (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
queencrimson) wrote2015-01-13 08:24 pm
queencrimson) wrote2015-01-13 08:24 pm
Entry tags:
Shard 2: Brayflox's Longstop
Memory: Sig Neg; Aiatar/Brayflox's Longstop
Regained: Day 120; Cycles
Summary: Fuck. Goblin. Cheese.
The jungle is hot, and sticky, and this is no better in the cave than it's been for the entire rest of the Longstop. She remembers this much, remembers that the dragon Aiatar (fuck him, fuck him, seriously) had taken over the Longstop, remembers the sticky, uncomfortable fight to get to him, remembers...
Oh, he'd hit her. Into the rocks, given how much she hurts. Ringing in her ears, she hears someone yelling for her to get up, and she knows she has to. The battle must not be over yet, so she has to open her eyes and start to move. The blood stings, and she recognizes the face above her, a younger arcanist by way of Ul'dah.
The pressure is intense. [Magpie] sounds far too upset for something as simple as a head injury. She sits up, starts to reach out to summon Ifrit--
When Aiatar's head bounces past them with a sickening noise. The smell of blood is almost overwhelming, and the pressure, this intense, acrid pressure, where is it even from. Where are the others? She follows the direction the head had come from, head swimming from concussion and bloodloss and the smell, Azeyma preserve her, the smell, and stops.
[Magpie]'s tail is puffed in every direction. She can't see where [-------] is, but she can hear her calling unsteadily towards the man by Aiatar's body. This heat isn't just from the jungle air, no, it's suffocating, a pressure that grows by the second. This is rage, far beyond anything she'd ever seen any marauder ever do.
She stumbles, scrapes her knee as she tries to stand against [Magpie]'s protests, and [???] turns, just slightly, to look at them. Beside her, she feels the Miqo'te stiffen and start to pull a book, ready to defend them.
"Wait," Her voice is hoarse to her own ears. "Hold. We're still...still a team, until I say otherwise."
He is terrifying like this, spattered in blood and the remains of Aiatar's venom, axe so soaked in blood she's sure the metal itself is stained, but he has not moved. So she must. One unsteady step forward after another.
"He's not coming out of the berserk--after you were knocked out..."
"It's fine." Swallow. Another step, and another, until she's standing just within reach of that axe. One second, two seconds, ten...and she breathes out a heavy sigh as he drops it to press a hand to his face. Whether it's to hide it or because of a headache from Brayflox's sudden yell as the goblin catches up to them is really anyone's guess.
Carnelian collapses to her knees, feeling the stone split open the skin there. All this for some damn cheese?
-+I actually do know Magpie!
-+And That Guy (Axe)!
-Holy shit, fuck goblin cheese.
-And fuck that dragon.
-Apparently adventuring is full of pain and broken bones and ow.
-WHY DID WE NEED CHEESE THIS BADLY?!
-Man that dragon was an asshole.
-I trust a berserker implicitly not to axe me I am not sure of my life decisions.
-SERIOUSLY FUCK GOBLINS AND THEIR STANK-ASS CHEESE.
-I am never going to feel clean again.
Regained: Day 120; Cycles
Summary: Fuck. Goblin. Cheese.
The jungle is hot, and sticky, and this is no better in the cave than it's been for the entire rest of the Longstop. She remembers this much, remembers that the dragon Aiatar (fuck him, fuck him, seriously) had taken over the Longstop, remembers the sticky, uncomfortable fight to get to him, remembers...
Oh, he'd hit her. Into the rocks, given how much she hurts. Ringing in her ears, she hears someone yelling for her to get up, and she knows she has to. The battle must not be over yet, so she has to open her eyes and start to move. The blood stings, and she recognizes the face above her, a younger arcanist by way of Ul'dah.
The pressure is intense. [Magpie] sounds far too upset for something as simple as a head injury. She sits up, starts to reach out to summon Ifrit--
When Aiatar's head bounces past them with a sickening noise. The smell of blood is almost overwhelming, and the pressure, this intense, acrid pressure, where is it even from. Where are the others? She follows the direction the head had come from, head swimming from concussion and bloodloss and the smell, Azeyma preserve her, the smell, and stops.
[Magpie]'s tail is puffed in every direction. She can't see where [-------] is, but she can hear her calling unsteadily towards the man by Aiatar's body. This heat isn't just from the jungle air, no, it's suffocating, a pressure that grows by the second. This is rage, far beyond anything she'd ever seen any marauder ever do.
She stumbles, scrapes her knee as she tries to stand against [Magpie]'s protests, and [???] turns, just slightly, to look at them. Beside her, she feels the Miqo'te stiffen and start to pull a book, ready to defend them.
"Wait," Her voice is hoarse to her own ears. "Hold. We're still...still a team, until I say otherwise."
He is terrifying like this, spattered in blood and the remains of Aiatar's venom, axe so soaked in blood she's sure the metal itself is stained, but he has not moved. So she must. One unsteady step forward after another.
"He's not coming out of the berserk--after you were knocked out..."
"It's fine." Swallow. Another step, and another, until she's standing just within reach of that axe. One second, two seconds, ten...and she breathes out a heavy sigh as he drops it to press a hand to his face. Whether it's to hide it or because of a headache from Brayflox's sudden yell as the goblin catches up to them is really anyone's guess.
Carnelian collapses to her knees, feeling the stone split open the skin there. All this for some damn cheese?
-+I actually do know Magpie!
-+And That Guy (Axe)!
-Holy shit, fuck goblin cheese.
-And fuck that dragon.
-Apparently adventuring is full of pain and broken bones and ow.
-WHY DID WE NEED CHEESE THIS BADLY?!
-Man that dragon was an asshole.
-I trust a berserker implicitly not to axe me I am not sure of my life decisions.
-SERIOUSLY FUCK GOBLINS AND THEIR STANK-ASS CHEESE.
-I am never going to feel clean again.