TERRACE Draft - Remaining Days

[lucetimods]

Who: All Draftees
What: All hell breaks loose
When: From the 27th to the 1st.
Where: TERRACE!
Summary: Information post here
Rating: Varies on thread, please mark explicit material.

This post covers the second to sixth day! Be sure to check the info post on the timeline to know what's up. At 2AM on the 27th, the attack will break out while most people are sleeping. Be sure to use the above info post for any plotting needs you might have. Enjoy!

Some random NPC quotes about the island itself.

Be sure to tag this post appropriately: [canon] character name

Comments

[imatreenow]

[28th-30th | Days 2-4]

[Mithos was not asleep when the alarm sounded, because his body does not require rest in this state. The sudden attack, earlier than anticipated, is actually welcome - he would rather plunge into battle than continue to wait for the hour to creep toward dawn. Once out of the barracks, he takes advantage of his wings - the shimmering Seraphic ones, not the useless filial ones - and flies up high to start aiming flashy spells and attacks at whatever soldiers are unfortunate enough to be nearest.

As the battle continues, he does not slow down. He needs no sleep nor food - he needs only to destroy as many lives as he can. Here, he does not have to be powerless.]

[31st | Day 5 - LOCKED]

[The same endless fighting, same endless bloodshed, and he revels in it, because he can lose himself in it. He has also lost count of how many enemies have fallen at his hands - the individual numbers mean nothing to him.

One instant he's sending a searing blast of magic into the chest of a soldier, and the next-- He can feel the mana in his body drain, like a candle blown out in a gust of wind. His body reverts from seraph to mere half-elf and, wingless, he plummets down, a drop of almost two stories.

He lands hard. His legs absorb the impact first, and his momentum causes him to collapse instantly, body jarring against the cold floor. He had managed to cradle his head in his arms, but the rest of him is as vulnerable as glass. The pain feels like a hundred tiny explosions setting off inside him all at once. Through the throbbing pain and the fog in his head he's still aware of the immediate danger all around him, but the struggle to sit up sets off another chain of explosions and he can only groan and tense his body. He looks up to see that the group he was fighting has moved on to more potent obstacles, but still he wonders how long he has until one decides to finish the job proper.]

[day 5]

[sketchingideals]

[It's not one of the enemies from the group who approach him--it's Jeb. The boy's been trying to handle everything in every non-lethal way his mind can possibly think up, but when he hears a loud thud behind him, it takes him little time to turn to see what it is and even less to rush over. He pushes his less than athletic body to keep running as quickly as possible.]

Mithos...! [Kneeling over him.] Where does it hurt?!

[day 5]

[imatreenow]

[He tries to pull himself up again when he hazily realizes that someone is approaching, but his body protests and, sharply sucking in his breath, he stays in the same crumpled heap. Then he sees who it is. A frantic, trying-to-focus glare is quick to follow.]

Stay...stay away!

[day 5]

[sketchingideals]

[It'll likely come as a shock to Mithos, but Jeb glares back.]

I can't do that, not when something obviously happened to you! Now, please tell me where it hurts.

[day 5]

[imatreenow]

[The logical part of him knows he can't be left alone, easy to pick off. He can't afford to push help away. He doesn't believe that Jeb would hurt him, but he can't bring himself to accept the whole premise of this moment: injured past the point of helplessness, with Jeb dropping everything to try to help him.]

What does it-- [he winces as something jabs him from inside] --look like? [A better question might be where doesn't it hurt? He's sure he must have broken at least a few bones - both legs, maybe some ribs, an arm, a wing? - and he can feel bruises blooming violently across wide swaths of his body. His face is pale, with a thin sheen of sweat.]

[day 5]

[sketchingideals]

[Jeb places his hands gently upon one of Mithos' legs.]

I'll start here, okay? [He begins to work on healing that leg, magic moving from his own body and into Mithos'.] You'll be all right, so please try not to move too much right now.

[day 5]

[imatreenow]

[He flinches, but he doesn't even have room to protest. His focus is dragged back to his broken-glass insides, pulled to every loud nerve-ending at once and unable to decide which to stay with.]

Don't think that...this means I trust you. [He manages to turn his head a little, and his eyes are glued skyward. He has no choice, he has no choice, he has to--]

[day 5]

[sketchingideals]

You don't have to. Please just let me help you.

[It's said very quietly, most of his effort going into healing. So far, so good, but Jeb has a feeling he might not be able to fix everything without exhausting himself. He tries not to think about it, tries to explain positive. With his other hand, he begins to pet Mithos' hair soothingly, the way he would pet his little sister's hair when they were younger and she was frightened.]

It's going to be okay. I'm going to help you. You don't need to trust me, but you can trust that.

[imatreenow]

[His hand shoots up, dazed, shooting a crack of pain up his arm, all the way to his shoulder. Grimacing, he insists on weakly trying to swat Jeb's hand away.]

Don't...touch me. [The gesture is laden with memories of Martel, Sayo, Kaori, doing the same, and it hurts to remember a vanished time when there was comfort to seek.]

[sketchingideals]

Don't move. [Was that sternness in his voice right then? It was. He doesn't move his hand away, continuing to pet Mithos' hair as he heals him.] You're going to agitate your injures, Mithos! Please... pretend I'm someone else if you have to, just don't move again.

[Because Mithos can hate him, he can say everything he wants about him. But Jeb will not let Mithos hurt himself because of that hatred. Even in his stern tone, he sounds concerned for the blond.]

[imatreenow]

[He refuses to desist, growing increasingly aggravated and increasingly claustrophobic. He tries to twist his head away, to shake Jeb off, but every fraction of movement sparks a fresh spattering of pain, and he has to bite back pitiful cries.]

[sketchingideals]

[He sighs, pulling his hand away.]

I was just trying to comfort you. [He's still healing.] ...does that leg feel any better yet?

[imatreenow]

[He relaxes a fraction when Jeb's hand retreats, but his muscles are still tense with the overload of pain his body is forced to bear, and with the overload of distress at being forced to rely on another. No response is given. His frayed glare stubbornly strains upward.]

[sketchingideals]

...Mithos, please. I need you to answer the question, so I know if I can move on to heal something else. Please pretend to not hate me long enough for me to help you.

[imatreenow]

[Another beat of stony silence, and then a strained, succinct response.] ...A little bit. [The pain is receding, but he can't tell if it's because his leg is healing or just growing numb.]

[sketchingideals]

[He smiles weakly.]

I'm glad. [This isn't draining him yet, so he keeps on working.] Tell me when you think I should work on a different spot, okay?

[imatreenow]

[He won't see Jeb's smile - he refuses to look in his direction or acknowledge his existence any more than he must. but after a few moments of tense silence, he'll make a quiet request.]

...My wing... [He hates this, he hates this so much--]

[sketchingideals]

[It's distressing that Jeb doesn't even need to ask which one, since he's able to tell by just looking. He beats himself up for not working on that first. Still, his expression is one of determination.]

Okay, I'll work on your wing next. [He stops using his magic, only to start using it again once his hands are over the wing.] It'll be okay.

[As long as Jeb doesn't begin to feel exhausted.]

[imatreenow]

[He shifts a little to allow Jeb better access to his injured wing, wincing, holding his breath so as not to make a sound, blocking out the boy's words of empty comfort. His eyes now point away from the high vault of the ceiling - not too far away, he can see barrier residents and cultists engaged in battle, and he wonders how long Jeb would last if one decided to take advantage of his turned back.]

[Day 4]

[ps3pirate]

[Patty's been fighting for days on end, now. There's no one by her side, no companions she can trust to have her back. She's all alone. She has her bodhi blastia, but it only enhances her strength. It doesn't stop the exhaustion that's hitting her, and it's hitting her hard. Her eyes are burning, both from lack of sleep and from the sweat that's pooling down her face.

There's a loud bang as she fires her pistol at a nearby cultist, then she begins to cast a spell. It isn't any spell in particular- she never knows what she's casting until the spell is finished. It's a gamble, that's just how her artes work.

But she's let her guard down. Before she can finish, one of the cultists creeps up behind her and lands a harsh blow to the back of her head. She falls to the ground with a loud cry, the pistol released from her fingers and landing just out of her reach. She's dazed, everything is spinning, but she knows she has to get up again.

Get up!

As she scrambles to push herself up from the ground, the cultist towers over her, weapon at the ready. Several others approach the scene as well, including the one Patty just shot in the shoulder.]

[Day 4]

[imatreenow]

[He attacks indiscriminately, eager for the spike of adrenaline to deaden everything else. If the hordes of cultists weren't so thick, he would not object to taking advantage of the chaos and turning on Lucetians or residents of other barriers.

He had fallen back for a little while to seek out a new group of enemies - they're all enemies, really - to dispatch. When he spots a group, seemingly uninhibited by fighters of the barriers, he's quick to settle into a spell. A moment to gather up mana, and then--] Judgment! [Pillars of searing light rain down on the area. It's enough to make the cultists stagger in pain.]

[Day 4]

[ps3pirate]

[Just as Patty succeeds in propping herself up on her hands and knees, the lights begin to rain down. She's caught by surprise and covers her eyes with her palms in reflex. This is it, she's going to die, isn't she?

But all she can feel is the warmth of the light shooting down nearby and small bits of rubble hitting her from all sides. All she can hear is the cultists crying out in pain. They aren't dead, but they're hurt for sure.

When the mayhem's died down, she carefully peeks through her fingers. What just happened? Her gaze goes upwards, to where the lights originated from. An angel? But she didn't try to summon anything. It looks different from the angel who'd usually come to her aid, too.

No time to think about it for too long, now. She snatches her pistol up from the ground and pushes herself to her feet again, ready to defend herself against the injured cultists.]

[imatreenow]

[It’s when Patty climbs to her feet again that he realizes theses cultists are not alone. He doesn’t have more than a second to think on this, though – two of the cultists, recovering from the surprise attack, are flying toward him, spears ready. As he aims a blast of mana into the chest of one, the other jabs at him with his weapon. He manages to teleport out of the way, and as the spear’s tip skewers the empty air, he reappears behind the cultists to send a searing blast of mana directly between his wings. The cultist drops out of the air immediately.]

[ps3pirate]

[For the most part, Patty's occupied with handling the cultists that remained on the ground. She shoots one, throws a bomb at another and dodges a blow from a third.

That's when another cultist comes falling down from the sky, landing beside her with a loud thud. She glances upwards for just a split second to ascertain that the angel is still above her. She hops backwards and begins casting a quick spell.

Please let it be something good, please let it be something good!]

Risky Cast! [Here it goes! Wind Blade! It sears through the enemy before Patty, then moves upwards to attack the other cultist who's still facing off against Yggdrasill.]

[imatreenow]

[With the nearest cultist blown aside, he has a window in which to cast another spell. He closes his eyes and loves that it only takes a few beats to focus his mana into a deadly torrent.] Indignation!

[Soon enough, the cultists still on the ground are enveloped in a dome of electric energy, and they stagger underneath the force of the volts charged through their bodies.]