Yankee

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World of Light

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Level: 8 - Total EXP: 213/80 ------ Level: 7 - Total EXP: 98/70
𝙱𝙿 ●●●●● ---------------------------- 𝙱𝙿 ●●●●●
Word Count: 1258 (+3 exp)(+10 Reward Exp)
Location: The Under

In the midst of their predicament, the Hive Knight came to their rescue. Flattened against Sectonia's summoned crystal as they were, it was a bit awkward to watch the events unfold. Even so, the bright glow emanating from Barnabee and the golden light in his eyes told those who'd experienced this power before all they needed to know about what was going to happen. Therion's eyes were wide and Primrose bit her lip as they watched the knight's final act.

When it was over and the usurper was defeated, it was Primrose who would answer Nadia's question whether it had been rhetorical or not. The dancer stood and dusted herself off, following the Feral into the throne room where they saw Barnabee pass in front of his beloved queen.

"A Final Smash," Primrose said, glancing at Ms. Fortune. "It's exactly as it sounds. In the desert, we knew someone that... used it. They'd explained it to me as an all out attack that could even warp reality... but the price of such power was- well, as you can see."

She watched the last of the particles of what had once been Barnabee dissolve, and just like with Robin there was no spirit left behind. On the train to Tostarena, she hadn't been able to picture a scenario in which she would use that power herself. Now that she knew that Barnabee's quest had not exactly been for liberation, but vengeance, she could see herself taking a page from his book. She understood him, his actions. If she had only that option left to her, to trade her life to wipe out the Obsidians that murdered her father for good, she might just do so.

That said, before waking up in this world she'd taken out two of the three of them so she felt pretty good about her chances. The mourning over Barnabee was brief, and as the majority of the Seekers piled into the room Primrose took a step back to let them sort out their items and spirits after putting the newest mask fragment with the others. The most interesting was watching Ms. Fortune put herself back together, and not in the usual way.

The orb. It had knocked Nadia off of her feet and all of the spirits she'd absorbed came filtering out of her. It was surprising to say the least, and it was of particular interest to Therion as there was an aspect of himself now that he wouldn't mind being rid of. Once she was done putting herself back together (differently) and asked if anyone else wanted to give it a try, the other thief held a hand out so that she could slap the orb into his waiting palm. "I will."

Like Nadia, Therion didn't spend long in his original form. After the initial disorientation of the fusions and striker spirits flowing out of him, there was another moment of confusion as he adjusted to his human senses again. That's... a weird feeling. He'd barely had the new ears and tail for a couple days, and he'd already grown so used to them. Of course, it felt natural without them too. He shook his head, dismissing it all as just one of the odd things about the world and spirits at large. Then he gathered them up again, keeping one to the side. Starting with the Junicorn, he rebound it as a striker once more. That thing had some utility, and it had served him well so far. The Metro Cat fusion came next, as small and weak as it was he felt it helped more than it hurt. The spirit of Ranulf followed, pressed back into his chest. When he fused with that, he felt something slightly different... but it was probably fine.

Therion's Changes

Defusions: Ammomancer
Powers Lost: Shellomancy
Weaknesses Lost: Bonkers
Personality: No longer in danger of being prone to bursts of madness.
Appearance: Slightly taller (though still shorter than his natural height). Head returns to normal proportions and skin lost the paleness but kept the healthier light tan tone. No changes to ear, hair, and tail color nor to outfit. One eye remains orange while the other is green.

Therion Level Up!

New Power: Roar.
The class skill of Beast Laguz, drawn from Ranulf. Usable only in beast form and once per battle, when this skill is activated the enemy will be inflicted with paralysis for 6-10 seconds.
***

Given that he'd only fused with two spirits, his appearance hardly changed from what it had been a few minutes ago. It wasn't exactly the same; he wasn't quite as short, though he was still smaller than his natural five foot five. His head was also normally proportioned again, thankfully. His skin lost the paleness but kept the healthier light tan tone, while his hair (and ears and tail) retained the fade from white to blue to black. His single visible eye was orange with slitted pupils just as it had been, but the damaged one just barely covered by his hair had turned green again. Underneath the dark cloak he'd taken to wearing, his outfit was still the mismatch of purple, ochre, brown, orange, and dark green.

The only spirit that remained was that of the Ammomancer. Being able to summon the Shelletons was neat, and it had worked out a few times so far, but something about that power led his mind to become scrambled. If he was afraid of that happening again, then he would use the power far less going forward - and if that was the case there was no point in keeping it. Ultimately, being rid of something dangerous like that was a good thing. He crushed the spirit in his hand, curious what kind of item it would produce.

By this time, the Koopa Troop was crushing their own horde of spirits and sorting through the loot that appeared, and trying out some changes of their own. They let the other Seekers have at the pile of items, so with a word of gratitude from both Primrose and Therion the Travelers picked their prizes. For the latter, the Double Knight Glyph. It kind of just made sense. He did eye a few other things, including the Hive Knight's former weapon, but ultimately had no desire to carry around something he wasn't sure he could use effectively. The Yato looked like a longer sword than he was used to wielding. If course, if it went unclaimed he'd take it anyway. There was no reason to leave something valuable behind.

Primrose had gravitated to the Ice Lance. She picked it up and gently ran her fingers over the shaft. It felt cool under her touch. It was the same type of weapon and element that one of the spirits she'd fused with used - perhaps that's why she felt drawn to it? Contrary to her friend she was more open to experimenting, and so she claimed the weapon for herself while leaving the similar javelin to another should they want it. The dancer had chosen not to make use of the orb, keeping everything she'd become as is. She was powerful and, frankly, she looked damn good. Despite being three parts spellcaster, she still had two physical fighters melded into her soul. She could try out another weapon besides her beloved dagger.

Soon the regrouping was completed and it was time to start thinking about moving on. They still have more places to go, mask fragments to find, and enemies to defeat before they were finished in The Under.

Rika made a good suggestion on that front. Kamek asked if there were any objections to it, at which Primrose shook her head. Getting information from locals was a good idea. That, or they could always just follow a random direction shown on their magic map - a thought that Therion seemed to share as he spoke it aloud.

"Check if anything's shown up on that map. Shouldn't be too hard to double back if we missed a path." He then glanced at Sectonia when she mentioned finding a ruler for this place, puzzled. "Surprised you don't want to add it to your kingdom, or whatever."

Reconstructions

Welcome back, it seems!

World of Light

Word Count: 475 (+1 exp)
Level: 4 - Total EXP: 178/40
Location: Dystopiascape
Midgar, Suoh: Beacon Mental Hospital

After Hanabi filled them in on what she knew of Raz's whereabouts (that being pretty much nothing as he'd literally disappeared. Pit couldn't blame her), the group of five quickly came to a consensus. They'd take the elevator down in pursuit of their missing friends - there really was no other choice to make. With some anticipation they waited for the lift to return after calling it, and then to descend again after they all piled inside.

The angel was his usual fidgety self, tapping a sandal on the steel floor of the elevator. The interior was quiet, at least until the entire building shook. The tremor jostled the lift and its occupants, then it happened a couple more times. Pit blinked, his eyes wide. "What was that?" he asked, like they weren't just about to find out.

Based on the sounds coming from outside the elevator, it was clear something was going on, but they'd hardly expected to find a battle already in progress once the doors opened. And there was Sakura, Midna, and Gemma too! With all of the small scouting teams converging here, they had to be on the right track. Sorting that out could come after dealing with the situation at hand. The very dangerous situation, from the looks of it.

"Luka!" With a beat of his wings Pit burst from the lift towards where the psychic was being drowned. He came in with a flying kick to knock Sina out of the way, and with the Upperdash Arm summoned over his limb he shattered the ice that was holding Luka under - and the entire tub along with it.

Lacking in a lot of information, Pit could only piece things together from what he could see in front of him. Of the three people that had been fighting, two had the same kind of uniforms on as the other Psych-OSF agents, presumably making them Psych-OSF agents as well. Then why did the girl attack Luka? Were they double agents, or maybe mind controlled? Could psychics even be mind controlled? On flip side, the person they were fighting looked to be the unfortunate result of an experiment gone wrong, together with an android with an exposed brain. They looked the part of stereotypical "bad guys," but since they were opposing the renegade Psych-OSF agents... then...???

"Just so I know, which ones are on our side?!" He barely had a grasp on Midgar's geography, and so he was ignorant to the true danger of Dexio bringing the house down. In fact, Midna had suggested doing the very same before they entered. He stood his ground best he could while the building shook, ready to either go on the attack or, possibly, produce a heart of healing - it was the confusion of the situation that gave him pause, putting him into a defensive position instead.

Haikyuu - The Art of Sport

I think this could be fun!

Expedition to Isekai

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While he hovered over Bansen, Masato was slowly started to become overwhelmed. Hoshino was in his ear, his voice ragged from shouting and crying. His panic was not helping him explain how he healed people, and because Masato couldn't understand his own frustration was growing. He was about to grab the other boy and shake him to calm down when Stewart came over and knelt beside them. Then threads snaked their way out of Hoshino's skin, thin pink things that stretched over to them. Masato held his breath, unsure what the hell was happening - until they connected.

Suddenly Masato was very aware of a lot of things. He understood Hoshino's warbling because he was feeling what caused it; fear so intense that it spread icy cold tendrils through his heart. He was absolutely dreading the possibility that he could lose someone he loved. Masato practically reeled form the emotions coming through the cable connecting them, making it harder to process the other information filtering over. Information about Hosino Asahi, before and after the crash. A vague memory from the pink haired boy's primary school days, and how he calculated his way through every conversation. How that social manipulation informed the power he displayed now, the facsimile.

Masato jerked his hand away from the threads even as they began to dissolve. He didn't want to pry into Asahi's life, and he definitely didn't want Asahi to pry into his. But now, at least, he understood his classmate's desperation. And his abilities.

Masato took a deep, shaky breath after the strange experience. He glanced at Asahi when he urged the other two to think of something. It was good that he'd calmed down enough to start getting back to his usual self, but now Stewart seemed to be panicking more in his stead.

While the basketball star spoke all his thoughts aloud, Masato fought off a headache on top of the vice around his heart. He willed something like Asahi's Cable to manifest itself from his own hands a few times, but nothing appeared. Dismayed, he looked between his fingers and Sasuke's face.

He wished he had this information hours ago, then he could have... helped more. It was something he thought about from time to time, on the days where he stayed away from home and wandered the night around Kuroshio either with a book in hand or just sitting in silence, alone or rarely with Ichibangase. "If only I could go back and make a different decisions. If only I'd done this differently." He always tried to banish those thoughts when they wormed their way into his head because they did no good. It was impossible to return to a prior point in time. His life was like a really shitty novel, and no matter how many times you reread a book the story, and the ending, didn't change.

Unless.

This was the Otherside, where his classmates were developing literal fucking magic powers. He, too, had that potential. So maybe it was possible to rewrite the events of this story after all? If he could grasp at that fire in his chest and shape it... but could he, given the circumstances? With his own thoughts a mess and two panicking boys on either side of him, his head was pounding.

"Do you have to talk so fucking much while you think?" he said to Stewart, cutting a glance at him. There was a hint of exasperation showing in Masato's tone even through the worry. He could hardly think himself over the other boy's rambling. He probably used up the last of whatever good will Stewart had for him with that comment, but it had to be said. "Just- stop! Stop freaking out, we can... we can figure this out."

The words were for himself as much as they were for Stewart and Asahi. If they thought about everything and worked together, they could probably do it. They could save Sasuke and Endo. Masato wasn't one for working together, preferring to take care of everything himself, but he could at least pretend. He'd borrow some of Asahi's talent at that and draw on his position as council president, focus on rewinding this awful situation... Masato held his hands out again, willing something to happen.

And then the boy next to him, the foreigner, the troublemaker, burst open and spilled his insides all over the place again. What the fuck indeed.

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_{@Vertigo@baraquiel}

Heiseina: Memories Long Forgotten

---

While Fumiko hurried out to get some help (or, perhaps, to escape any further teasing), Sumiko watched her leave and shook her head fondly. She hoped the best for that girl, she really did. Hopefully her crush panned out for her, a new beau just might be able to convince her to relax and have some fun without worrying about her responsibilities for a change.

"Phew~" Sumiko fanned herself with her hand after all of the boxes were packed and piled on the veranda. The cold air cooled her down quickly, and she gathered as many things into her arms as she could carry and set out for the village square where the festivities were to happen. She wasn't concerned about leaving the rest of it where it was on her doorstep - no one in town would mess with it, and if Fumiko returned before she did, the other girl would know where to bring it. If nothing else she could rely on Fumiko keeping her word and returning with the rest of the items.

Her pace was leisurely and she hummed as she walked, peeking out from around her burden to make sure she didn't crash into anyone or anything. There was a warm, happy feeling bubbling up in her chest as the morning wore on that easily chased out the season's lingering chill. She was just so excited to dance again. The festival was her absolute favorite time of year.

She envisioned the scene she would set. First, underneath the kimono she would wear a light robe of pale pink, the collar of which was sure to poke out from beneath the more elaborate garment. The folded silk flower she planned to wear in her hair was of the same color, and secured from the bottom blue and white beads of glass dripped down like melting ice. The earrings she already had on featured the same look, both accessories standing out all the more due to her snow white hair. The final glass piece would be secured to the front of her obi as the obidome, run through by a tight white cord and "melted" by the sunrise on her sleeve. Yes, the kimono itself was the star of this outfit - hand crafted for this festival a few years ago by Heiseina's very own half priestess, half seamstress to invoke the awakening of Miorochi. The backdrop was practically brand new - it was what she'd been inspired to repaint, so it would be a fresh look for the familiar performance. Bright colors forming a rainbow of sunlight clawing its way over the horizon, staining the snow with signs of spring. At its edges, vibrant plant life curled into the scenery.

The dance itself was one she'd practiced many times since she was a small girl. She knew each step by heart, and every time she performed it was as wonderful as the last. Miorochi-sama, please enjoy this year's performance as well, she thought to herself, glancing at the mountains in the near distance.

A shrill cry drew her attention away. Sumiko was practically at the stage area already, so she hurried the rest of the way and hastily set the baskets down onto it. She flicked her gaze up in the direction the commotion was coming from as the noises grew louder. Then came the people, scared and headed in the direction of the Takamori estate. Where else could they be going in such a panic? Following behind them was the beat of hooves, the low groaning of voices, and the clink of metal.

If they were normal out of town visitors, the people wouldn't be so fear stricken. Sumiko went in the opposite direction, towards the disturbance, and when she found it she was struck by the same fear that had sent others running - but instead she was frozen in place. Weapons? Armor? The kind of things that existed only tales of the past were right in front of her. The strange men stopped riding, dismounting in front of the inn.

Eh? At Benjiro-ojisan's place? Sumiko couldn't help it, she forced her feet to move and quietly got closer. Who were these people, why were they here? On today of all days...

She wasn't particularly well hidden, across the street from the inn and peering out from behind a few crates. She pulled a parchment from her yukata, sketching the banners the men were carrying while her mind whirled. She'd been everywhere in the valley, she was sure of it, but she'd never encountered anything like this. The symbol was completely unfamiliar. And the... weapons... her sick fascination was quickly becoming just sickness. Sumiko placed a hand gingerly over her mouth. They weren't going to hurt Benjiro, were they? She wasn't particularly close with him for a number of reasons, but she'd hate to see him (or any of the villagers) hurt. But it wasn't Benjiro that came to greet the strangers, it was his daughter.

"Takara?!" Sumiko hissed to herself, eyes wide as the younger woman strode up on her prized steed.

Returning to rp-ing after 10 years!

Hey there, welcome! I hope you have fun shaking the rust off. If you have any questions feel free to ask!

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