Ana Einnashe
The Youthful, Ganymedean and Odd Heir of the Lonely Forest Family
Lucus.
The Einnashe heir was very capable at multitasking.
Very capable.
The night with Shuten had proved an incredibly tiring experience, one which threatened to break his relatively frail body, but he had survived. Better yet, he had learned.
Boy had he learned.
Yet at the same time he had acted. While his body was preoccupied with more mortal concerns, he had redirected several thought processes to the matter of leaving. Naturally, he could do that in an efficient manner, simply vanishing and allowing his forest to be plundered by who or whatever, it wasn’t the forest itself which had any particular value to him -- most others, Casters included, simply didn’t actually know how to operate it. Druidism wasn’t something you learned over night, after all, and while the underlying principles of Magecraft were more or less the same, the specific processes were suitably arcane. The ones involved in the forest had him drawing on some truly obscure, ancient knowledge. The Cathbad Draoí School of Druidistic thought, although inundated with Runes, had provided an interesting insight into the control of entire arboreal units.
It wasn’t Runes, for goodness sake. There was an art.
That is why the presence of that new Saber was somewhat concerning! Observing the events through the simple matter of pollen had shown him everything he needed to know!
Leaving behind his forest was probably a bad idea. He’d avoid that. At the end of the day, there was a part of Ana that cared for the wellbeing of the World around him. Not in the sense of maintaining it, but rather avoiding it becoming nothing more than a wasteland. He was not above inducing that himself, in particular situations, but it was not an outcome to be desired.
But neither was death!
Conundrum.
Still, with twitches of his fingers amidst his more active activities, he directed the flow of magical energy in his Workshop, the arms of living wood working to complete his designs.
Confined planters of wild flora, living violent, suffocating lifecycles over and over again, generation upon generation born into a lifetime of ceaseless war with their neighbors. The screams of primordial bloodlust, the agony of life being choked away over and over again.
‘Survive. Survive. Survive.’
‘Grow. Grow. Grow. Survive.’
Over and over, the voices repeated, driven to such a frenzy that they could do nothing but.
It was a nasty trick, but it was one he could use now that he had all that magical energy! Oh, the wonders of a land of fantasy, unrestrained!
But alas, Ana was not a fool. It was not to be. Fantasy was destined to come to an end, but if it were to, it would be on his own terms. The terms of a boy who, deep down and past the overgrowth and distortion of his inception and crest, cared for the ground he stood on.
He would contribute to keeping it safe-
“Uwah! Berserker?!”
That actually hurt more than everything else.
How did she do that.
---
Ana held on tight. It was not out of fear, but raw excitement. Yes, he had to figure out the fastest delivery method, and Berserker’s loving secure grip was indeed the way to go. He had not forgotten the words of the awesome penguin who he had treated to lobster. That had been a good dinner arrangement.
He bounced a little in Berserker’s intoxicated embrace. “I won’t let go, so get jumping--!”
Oof.
The little fella was ready, but he absolutely was not ready for the raw impact of force generated from Berserker’s movement, flooding his senses with the biological warnings often called pain from how hard his snapped back.
He just popped that back into place. He had chosen a sturdy body for this, after all!
The ride was spent screaming like a little girl on a roller coaster into Berserker’s collar. A good summary of their relationship, if there ever was one.
---
DDD
Thump.
Right onto his ass.
Ana hurried back onto his feet, brushing off his butt and then went through his planned entrance, which was enhanced by Berserker carrying him in and then dropping him onto the ground.
He arched to the side, clapped his hands, twisteda and reached back around, before snapping back to the gathered crowed with the snap of his fingers, pointing at them.
“Okay, okay, okay! It’s Anaxstolas and Berserker! We’re here, the Worst Team!”
He was still terribly drunk. Only, he was better at articulating himself while wasted off Oni booze.
Clearing his throat, he stumbled back a little, and then got started.
“Hi, hi. Uhm. Yeah, I am the one who made the tree. Kind of an accident! Kind of planned, I think. It was really convenient, everything just kind of lined up…! But the tree doesn’t matter right now, it’s gone,” he said, sounding not-okay with that.
It was HIS tree, damn it.
“We’re leaving! And I’m taking my toys with me, Berserker included. I’ve got a bunch of stuff from this, so I don’t really see a point in sticking around, I’ve basically got all I need to grant a wish. This whole Cup Fight has been really convenient for me, it’s almost scary. Usually everything’s so tough and drawn out, but all I really did was do boring magus things and watch Berserker have fun! But, I also saw a lot of other great stuff, like watching heroes and villains fight, and see how they tick,” he finished with some emphasis, tapping a finger against his temple.
“...And I’m not really cut out for it. I’m not a hero, or even that desperate to stick around. I’m actually a massive, consummate coward. I kind of just want to look after a garden, hang around with Berserker, and do some other fun stuff!”
That was the ideal, really. He was a slacker, someone who just wanted to enjoy stuff he enjoyed and not be bothered by things like ‘obligation’ and ‘legacy’, to drink of what the world had to offer in an unrepentant way.
The life of one born through what could be described as artificial means was bound to be short.
How long he had left, he did not know. He could prolong it for a time, but his body was not designed to be one which endures. Just long enough to research, just long enough to pass on the crest once again in the hopes it would be fixed.
He could do that now. He could fix it. Would that save him, though? He did not know.
The Einnashe…
He had not done it for the Einnashe. He had never done anything for that name, not truly.
The others would not have seen it, but from the time he had spent with Berserker, he had found his wish. It was the same as when he entered the War, but its meaning had been warped, its perspective changed.
Anaxstolas Einnashe wanted to live. Not just for the sake of it, but for the sake of having a friend like Berserker. Someone wild, who encouraged the worst of him, which in turn caused him to control himself.
Indeed, had it not been for Berserker, he likely would not have come to the conclusion that he had to contribute.
A world one cannot play in. That is what this war threatened to create for an entire nation.
Unforgivable.
“So I’m here, instead of just running, like I probably should. Because some of you guys are heroes, I guess. You’re gonna do the thing I don’t have the guts to do, and I’d feel bad if I left you with nothing. So… yeah, I was going to explain every threat I’ve observed in the most detail possible with the full use of my partitions, but honestly… I think that if you’re here, you know how bad it’s probably going to get. Some of that’s my fault. Sorry.”
The boy’s hand pierced his own chest, shredding through clothing and revealing the porcelain, crystalline flesh beneath, thrumming with the blue glow of magical energy.
A terminal body, a mere vessel of Anaxstolas’ will. Even as it talked, it became clear that its creator likely was nowhere even near the spring.
“Now, I spent quite a while making this. I thought it was probably the best shape to take…” Ana explained, slowly drawing his hand out of the gorge of a wound he had created, the glow intensifying around a particular point closer to the construct’s core, until it became a near blinding glint -- a distant star, but closer than anything else on Earth. The air changed, taking on an almost fantastical quality.
“And I figure it works out pretty well, considering someone’s down a weapon.” The form began to actualize as Ana’s hand broke free, a solidified, unmoving streak of light following his hand in its removal.
The tree he had planted had been on something of a disposition spectrum, he had concluded after studying what he could. There were many possibilities on what ‘disposition’ it could have taken. In the particular case of the one he had created, due to the circumstances surrounding it, it had become a devouring tree, representing regression rather than progression. The distant glow of fantasy, rather than the present light of civilization.
The spear was a weapon of man, one of the very first. It granted mankind its means of defending itself in the very earliest days, a tool representing the very progression of humanity in both its history, function and shape. It drives forward, through the flesh of its enemies, forging a future from the blood of whatever stands before it.
Indeed, it was not a shape fitting for the Blade of the Prime Elemental Kurozome. But it was one befitting of aligning with the untapped, progressing aspect of the Prime Elemental Being.
Spear. The weapon of humanity. Forger of civilization. Accomplice of fire. Tamer nature. Alongside Primal Conflict, it exists as the first countermeasure against hostility.
The weapon drawn from the construct announced itself with its sight alone. A Mystic Code of legend, surpassing the means of the average magus by an unfathomable magnitude. To make such a thing would require materials from an age long gone, and knowledge just as hold.
Ana had accessed both, as his only true contribution.
Vicious looking barbs jutted out from the tip, striking to the air like their own growths. Pale vines hugged the length of the weapon with their crystalline leafs, its form not too dissimilar to a tree without branches, violently seeking to pierce the sky with its honed peak.
Hope. Guidance. War. Progression. Humanity.
A weapon of a god.
No.
Weapon of heroes, without a name. A spear was simply a spear. To give it a designation beyond that, was that not arrogant?
He simply settled it down, spiking up as a tree would and standing without support.
Ana’s construct, wounded and not longed for the world, gestured to it.
“Have at it. Just, you know. Careful to not break it. It shouldn’t unless you want it to, but… you know.”
“Anyway, it was nice to meet you, but we’ve got a ride to catch! Don’t die, that’d suck after all this.”
He leaned back and gave Berserker a peck on the cheek. “I don’t actually know where I live! Isn’t that great?! We can go wherever we want, partner!”
The convincing facade of a boys face went completely still, cracking and crumbling away, and then turning to an ephemeral dust. It was beginning to cease functioning.
Anaxstolas Einnashe chose to live as a petty thing, avoiding the obligation of salvation or doing the absolute right thing in a situation where more than just his own well being was at stake.
But he was going to live.
