Biting Chill ( 18 ) : The cold is strangely harsh, and even the still wind is vicious enough to sting. But the cold isn't the worst part of tonight--it's what comes with it. Out of a swirl of blowing snow, a massive, wispy wolf takes shape, enormous and snarling, with fur spiked like jagged icicles. Its eyes glow with a cold, wild intelligence, and before you can even react, it lunges as though you’ve trespassed deep into its territory. Every strike it makes feels like the bite of winter itself. Wherever its claws slash, wherever its jaws snap, frost cakes over. Even if you're lucky enough not to take massive damage, the cold seeps bone deep. When you manage to land a hit, the creature bleeds a strange, clear blood--icy water that freezes instantly into slush on the ground. The more damage it takes, the more its form flickers, shredded like wind-torn snow. The wolf fights with the relentless instinct of a dire beast, but it is not invulnerable. It will never run. It will fight until its body is broken and flickering, then--finally--a sudden gust will rip through the air and carry its dissolving body away. Howls echo on the wind. The rest of its pack probably isn't too far behind.
Note: This strange wolf is not a youma but can be used as a battle requirement for a character. It can only be used as a battle if there are two powered characters involved; you cannot write a solo and count this as a battle, and your character must be powered to meet battle requirements. You can use the prompt for as many characters as you like and it will count as a battle requirement, however if you repeat the prompt with the same character, only the first time will be usable as a battle.
Note: This strange wolf is not a youma but can be used as a battle requirement for a character. It can only be used as a battle if there are two powered characters involved; you cannot write a solo and count this as a battle, and your character must be powered to meet battle requirements. You can use the prompt for as many characters as you like and it will count as a battle requirement, however if you repeat the prompt with the same character, only the first time will be usable as a battle.
Bamburgh grimaced into the distance.
The cold here was nearly as unbearable as the cold back home, he thought bitterly. Some sense of responsibility kept him at this knight job, though, and he marveled at how he wasn't outright freezing his a** off considering his uniform very sorely—in his opnion—lacked an overcoat. It fascinated him to a degree, this whole thing about being a knight. Chillingham, his sister, was far ahead of him and perhaps it was his desire to catch up and be helpful to her, rather than a liability, that kept him committed to it.
Committed being a relative word in his context.
He tried, of course, but it hadn't exactly been easy. It wasn't like it came with instructions, so he didn't exactly know what he was even supposed to be doing. Fighting things like that crazy dead-chicken thing when he awakened? Or was he supposed to be networking? Gaining allies? Or maybe identifying enemies? Did they report to someone? Was there any kind of formal procedure they were meant to be following?
The teen groaned as he chucked the stone he'd been holding onto for the past fifteen minutes or so into the distance. "All these questions and no one to answer them," he muttered, watching for changes in the snow directly in front of him so he could go and pick the stone up. It'd been an interesting one, a dark, mottled gray that had been smoothed over by time and handling, maybe. Or water?
The sense of another Order signature appearing nearby pulled his attention away though, and he glanced in its direction briefly before starting to walk toward them. It was still so strange, sensing others nearby like that. It distracted him more than anything else because he was still getting used to it, but with time he was confident that he could get a handle on it.
All of it, hopefully.
Spotting the person to whom the signature likely belonged to, Bamburgh found himself a bit relieved to see that they were dressed in a similar style as he was—old England fashion in varying shades of purple. He walked closer, slowing just a bit and holding his hands up as if to show that he didn't mean any harm, in case she was on edge for whatever reason. On closer inspection, he saw the Saturn symbols and relaxed just a tiny bit more. He stopped within conversing distance and tried to smile.
It...probably wasn't all that pleasant, but he was trying.
"Good evening," he greeted politely, because he was more than capable of being polite when the time called for it. "Saturn, too?" The Page gestured at the symbols strewn across his outfit, in the very far reaches of his mind hoping that this might help to bridge the gap of being complete and total strangers. He wasn't usually good with meeting new people, though he wasn't completely incapable either.
Again, he was trying.
Orangeish Sherbert
