[closed]

[sistershoggoth]

CHARACTERS: Alnair Brood, Asuka, Murphy, Bellamy.
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: DAY(S) :041/042
SUMMARY: Annie organizing other people's lives for them because that's the only way she can deal with her own.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

Comments

[somnifacient]

[Noctis can't help himself. He grins wide as he feels the pressure in the air twist, and Nyx successfully warps a few yards away. Hands on his hips, he comments.]

Distance could use some work though.

[It's a joke, but true anyway. His magic lacks the strength of his full potential, of even what Regis had given the Kingsglaive during the old king's waning years. And while this is concerning, Noctis is just glad it worked in the first place.]

[servitor]

Distance?

[Challenge accepted.

He flings the same kukri at full force, a clean throw that arches only slightly. Nyx disappears...

Something pulls at him from his chest. Something feels as if a hook has grabbed onto his sternum and jerks him back violently. The force is immense, the reappearance sudden and violent in a burst of white fire and shimmering crystals.

He's flung almost backwards. He crashes onto his back once, the momentum keeps him going. Nyx twists, slams his palm wide onto the ground and vaults into a low crouch.]

You weren't kidding about limited!

[somnifacient]

I told you.

[Isn't it fun, Nyx, the way the magic stutters mid-warp? As if reaching the end of an invisible rope, only to be yanked back as if the Crystal itself was offended the Glaive would dare go any farther.

He steps closer, gesturing vaguely in his direction. At least his landing was impressive, he'll give him that.]

You'll have to readjust your expectations.

[servitor]

Twelve years is a hard habit to break.

[He rises, popping his neck briefly. That wasn't even half of his usual warp.

He wonders... is it all this limited? Or is there more to it?

Nyx flexes his left hand, focuses...

Nothing.

The image of fire rising from his hand, dancing so carelessly in his palm, is clear in his mind. The reality is the opposite. Nothing. Just leather and skin and a hand and nothing else.]

That out of luck, are we?

[somnifacient]

Yeah, well, we've got all the time in the world now. [As in, yes, they are out of luck. He knows what the man was trying to do, even without the image projected into his mind. Noctis is familiar with elemental magic, but how he allows it to manifest is different from Nyx. All that power, shuffled and squeezed into a container, only to burst into a blaze of a Firaga when thrown. The ground licked with flames, monsters and daemons alike burning.

He can't manage that here, so he's not surpirsed that Nyx can't call upon a simple flame when he tries.]

But even if we're limited, I'm thinking we can still get stronger with practice.

[So says the man who complained about having to wake up early to run. And yet now, standing here and fully awake, his determination has risen up, a monolith in the face of their new challenges.]

[servitor]

[Not all miracles require magic.

The Princess's voice is so clear it's almost startling. He's going to have to learn how to live without magic, simple as that. Start from nothing, and go up.]

We practice without magic. We have weapons, and we have our bodies, and our hearts that are still beating. If we can figure it out without magic, then we won't need to rely on it as much. We can strengthen it all day but who knows if it'll get sapped completely without warning.

[somnifacient]

[Luna's voice unexpectedly echoes in his head, and it almost causes Noctis to freeze. It's only because Nyx's comment requires an immediate answer that he manages to push through the pang of loss threatening to bloom within.

He steps forward, this stubbornness manifesting outwardly.]

I'm fine with that. [Noctis has always relied on his magic. Once he had mastered the ability to warp, to phase, the change weapons on the fly, it became the core of his training. But he knows that the Glaive before him makes a legitimate point, and he'll be the last one to argue against it. The last time he was without his magic was a... less than pleasant experience. Dark halls, broken MTs, daemons, the voice of a certain man taunting him as he ventured forward with only the Ring to protect him.]

...Might as well start today. As long as you promise not to go easy on me.

[servitor]

[The loss shoots through him, echoed by his own loss. He's had years to push back and to use it, too.

He gave himself the time to mourn. Maybe not long enough, who knows. But he had to do it. Nyx had to grieve before he could fight.]

Don't forget to go easy on yourself. I can't look after you if you can't look after yourself first.

[That's all he can say on the matter.]

After that? [Nyx smirks.] I'll train you the way we were trained in the Glaive: day and night.

[somnifacient]

Like I can afford to go easy on myself.

[It's said with the hint of a skewed grin, but the sentiment is true enough. He needs to be as strong as possible, as capable as he can manage. He needs to push himself to his limit, so he can die when he returns home.

Such is the truth of the matter.]

And sure, I've always wondered what it was like to be a Glaive.

[In his hand, his Engine Blade appears. It's the first and last instance of magic he'll use for this match, at Nyx's request.]

Just as long as you let me sleep in, I don't have a problem with it.

[servitor]

Sure.

[His grin is all kinds of mischievous, even a little wicked. Nyx unsheathes both of his knives, one of the city, one of his home. After all these years, they're still sharp and gleaming.]

I'll let you get up at 5:00 instead of 4:30.

[somnifacient]

You'll have to drag me out of bed, then.

[He falls into a defensive stance, wanting Nyx to make the first move. The fingers of his free hand flex a little.]

At least make it 6:00.

[servitor]

[You know that grin he's got?

It's turned even wilder, more menacing.]

Beat me and we'll make it 6:00.

[A sword in the right hands is a deadly weapon. But it's clunky, at least to him. So much metal to drag and move with, to be held down by a weight that could prove to slow a person down.

Knives, on the other hand... there's a reason he came from Galahd with a knife and got another one made to match.

He runs, faster than most would likely expect. His sprint is doggedly aimed for Noctis.

Until he feints, swerves right in quick, deliberate steps in an attempt to slash at the king.]