she still remembers that moment of freefall, those milliseconds of desperate reaching, fingertips missing by breaths. triumph had bled so quickly to horror on her best friend's face, the world tumbling and tossing around her, white teeth bigger than her head rushing up to meet her. 

darkness, and the end, and the stuttering hurt of power so reluctantly accepted stolen from her in an instant. that which would save her ripped out from under the carpet. 

they only know remorse from throwing Eva Morales in frigid water. it lingers there now, between the two of them, this sallow knowledge that their betrayal was no betrayal at all. it was meant to be done. 

and they are as bound by prophecy as she is. 

the forest is fragrant with the scent of petrichor. clouds swell overhead, gathering above a league stronghold. freya stands at the roughshod encampment, ushering in supply runners. her companion is stalwart a good distance away, scarred face turned towards the woodland, maw parted to taste the air. 

'there are still a few officers out there, councilwoman.'

as she steps into the wilds, hand on the hilt of her sword, the rains begin to fall.

Aoki Hana

☉

lyune's curled lip, the hitch in his rumbling throat, is all the warning she needs. her fingers wrap around the hilt of her sword and she barely has enough time to react, elbow jerking outward to catch the crossed swords on her own curved blade. one gauntleted hand holds the flat of the blade, teeth gritted from the effort. 

with a grunt, she throws her shoulders into it, hissing an order to lyune. 

the dragon's throat swells; his red velvet scales glow orange and from behind teeth the size of her fist spurts a deluge of liquid fire. freya's starlit hair is aglow against the backdrop of flame, scalp burning as it crackles above her. 

Aoki Hana

☉

freya realizes, very quickly, that she is hopelessly outmatched when it comes to a clashing of steel. her training has been as consistent as possible with what few, precious hours she has every day, but the strength behind this woman's attacks is overbearing in her sheer calculation. 

lyune's fire distracts the gardevoir - knight and dragon eclipse themselves from the grappling mortals. her guardian's jaw twists as his flames lash back out at him, but he does not relent; magma patters from his shaking jaw as the orange flames burn a brighter, whiter heat. 

her expression curdles. 

"i'm no peacemaker," she snarls and all at once gives into the woman's push, wrists turning to carry her momentum and send her stumbling forward, if only so freya can put some distance between them. 

she can see the shimmering heat all around her and faintly, with the adrenaline humming through her veins, does she realize that her skin does not redden. scales glint instead, rough and gnarled under her skin. 

the rain hisses as it patters against scarlet metal pauldrons. 

Aoki Hana
freya's draconic resilience grants her heat resistance.
lyune lashed at by the fire; keeps on keeping on w flamethrower

☉

apprehension makes her scales plume and the sensation needles down the length of her back. for a split second, she is completely frozen, taken over by dread as her brain races to catch up - move that hand, turn your body, dodge whatever will carve through your flesh to end - 

and then she stumbles backward, the whites of her eyes bleeding black in a panic, lyune an enraged and snarling mass of panic as he witnesses without comprehending, his mistress in what could be her last moments on this earth.

when the hand leaves her shoulder, she whirls, blade at the ready, and every instinct is screaming at her to cut down the person who stole her. one step forward and she is meet with a determined calm, followed by the tinkling giggle of the unown. 

lyune's roar cannot reach her and yet it shakes the heavens, and his grief will turn to fury, and his fury will turn to flame.

"visionary," she spits and her sneer is laced with anger. "how dare you stand to accuse me when sootopolis was your fault."

Naomi Sato

☉

purpose feels a farce these days. they are bound like puppets to strings named prophecy and fate. she'd driven herself mad thinking every act of her own had been guided with meticulous care by fernando, but that fear pales in comparison to the grief that smothers her with each passing day - their future is inevitable. their destruction is an orchestration centuries in the making. 

she fights, still, because her only other option is despair, and she's lived that hell before. 

it is what stays her blade. it is what contains her fire. she has too much to do, too many people to protect, and attempting to kill the visionary in her own domain would accomplish nothing.

but still, her eyes burn with indignation. sharp teeth bare as her expression twists to furious mortification. 

"you selfish creature. you and your loved ones are alive because of me. every fucking person in hoenn is alive because of me." impossible, nameless winds whip her hair across her cheeks. "YOUR PEOPLE BROUGHT WAR TO SOOTOPOLIS. YOUR LEADER MADE THE MONSTER!"

her scream drops to a cold whisper, but she shakes with rage, knuckles white, fingers made fists. 

"your house was destroyed? good. you don't deserve to live in my city."

Naomi Sato

☉

"do you think that makes you a saint? that you can pick and choose whose body you put in the ground?" she spits back, legs tensed, ready to take two steps forward. she could see it now, how she might do it. the visionary relies on her unown far too much. one snick of her flash arrow, the wind at her back, and it would be over before either of them could draw their next breath. 

the collective swell as an ominous tide and freya straightens, drops her hands to her sides. she irons out her anger, stamps her sharpening edges dull, and swipes her tongue across her teeth.

two paces, a midsection exposed.

"i've no grand illusion of choice here, visionary. not with the wall you've put at my back." and then she closes her eyes. 

her thumb brushes the arrowhead and a blinding light erupts from her side. she moves meticulously, her sword an extension of herself as it's drawn from its scabbard. one step, two, and her graceful arc stops with her exhale, eyes narrowed, blade a hair's breath from the visionary's throat.

"there's your answer," she murmurs.

Naomi Sato

☉