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One person down, many more to go. Although the Viera was not particularly fond of killing people who weren't really doing anything wrong, there was little she could do in this situation. If she wanted to protect her Kingdom and her King, she had no choice but to help everyone here win this war.

And if that meant having to take out everyone else, so be it.

The sniper moved off to the side where there weren't many people, ducking down and scanning her surroundings carefully in search of an unprotected target. Surely there would be someone--ah, there, a young woman clad in gold. Moving quietly, the Viera shifted and raised her bow, closing one eye as she focused on the target. She had faith in her aim.

With a loud twang of the bowstring, the arrow was loosed and shot through the air towards the Mjoll.

Aedan choked on a groan, his free hand sliding to his side, as if to magically close this newest wound. Stumbling, he went to his knees, landing hard. His breath was ragged, each rough draw of air reminding him how much he hurt. But, at this point, the pain was...unimportant. He had a feeling it wouldn't be too much longer til he wouldn't be worried about it, at all.

Not even bothering to get up, he aimed for one of the other's legs--at the very least, maybe that would slow him down, and make it a little easier on his next opponent...

He felt the drag against his blade--he'd managed to hit something, he thought, blinking wearily and losing his already-slippery grip on the hilt.

So lost. She felt so lost. She felt so heavy inside, so lost and empty but heavy. It was overwhelming, so overwhelming. Watching them all, fighting. It wasn't for her anymore, their own personal reasons now stirring them on. But she had been a catalyst and she still didn't understand why.

None of the words Lan had said registered. And barely any of the words that Imryn was telling her were being processed, as she ushered her away from the main bulk of the fighting. Not too much longer, were some of the words that struck her but she wasn't sure how to respond. She felt .. numb. Unsure. And then - what?

She stared, unbelieving what she was seeing right in front of her. It was Molan. But... how? She ... she didn't understand. He was here. How was he here. She ... she stared into those eyes, those eyes that should have been so bright. But they were so pale, everything about him was so pale and broken. "Molan..." she breathed out, unsure. Fresh tears fell from her cheeks, she couldn't tell if she was even the least bit happy though. So much sorrow as she wanted to wail but could only hiccup. Did she do this to him? Did... all of this do this to him? Olivia slowly closed the distance between them, her arms wrapped around him gently and her forehead on his chest. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...."

OOC

Name: Olivia
Current HP remaining: 40/50
Damage/ Healing/ Defense done: probably not
Target(s):
Rank Ability : unused
Kingdom ability: unavailable
Blessing Points: 2
Character kingdom: Who the hell knows anymore
Character's Miasma Colour: Silver
Character description: Olivia is a short pale girl with short blue curly hair and bright blue eyes. She is wearing a dealer's uniform from the Blue Kingdom consisting of a pair of simple black slacks, a blue shirt and a black vest. Forgoing the customary tie, she decided to wear her tan sash as a scarf and in her hair is a simple silver barrette with a bell dangling.

He spared a glance at the silver he had fought before, hardly taking in his words, nor did he even seem to notice that there were people defending him, that he had those who were loyal to him by his side, helping to protect him, to weed out those who had infiltrated his kingdom.

He left "Shaheen" on her own, hardly wincing as the sounds of her demise rang in his ears. Mengyao was utterly distracted by the appearance of someone else, someone standing on the far edge of the field, her long dark hair plaited down her back, an expression of worry on her face. It was a familiar expression, one he had seen many times before - more often than not directed at himself - bu now it was tainted. There was an edge to it, a hard, grey black edge that smeared her presence, blackening her memory. And for a moment, just a brief moment, he let himself feel the gut wrenching pain that sank deep into the pit of his stomach, feeling almost physically nauseated.

But then it passed.

No. She was no longer that woman anymore.

The sword swung out, but he didn't hit her. Instead, Mengyao's fingers curled around the neckline of her shirt, dragging her forward, the edge of the blade pressed against her pale white throat.

"Where is she?" he hissed through gritted teeth, feeling his heart breaking inside of his chest, feeling as though his entire world was collapsing around him. Blackness fizzled at the edge of his vision, then steadied.

"Where. Is. She."

It was almost anticlimactic, in the end. He was unable to even muster up any last-minute panic as he could hear the other's dagger, swiftly descending...and then, he could feel his very life force slipping away, no longer a buffer between himself and...whatever lay beyond.

At least...he'd fallen for a cause he believed in.

[[Exiting!]]

"Maybe someone real can remember this for us," Clyde joked, "Then this existence would at least remain somewhat real, for it happened. And we, who will eventually disappear, would not be the only ones to know."

As long as someone remembers, there's proof this has happened. Thus evidence of this reality's existence. Ah, if only this was truly real.

Pale blue eyes simply watched as the girl was ushered over, a polite nod offered to the two before they had gone about their duties. Yes, they had things to do. Important things.

Such that he had nothing to do with. He was an outsider and would remain such at this point, similar to Olivia. Perhaps she was the most brilliant of them.

And there she was, clinging to him in tears. Proving how cruel he was, how selfish. Desiring a last few moments with those he cherished even if it was all for their own sorrow. Haaah... he could not lie to himself. He merely held the girl, letting her cry, the same, delicate smile remaining as he did. It didn't matter, nothing of it did. He'd let her go never knowing. She probably wouldn't take it well anyway.

Perhaps that was why he didn't speak he feared his own voice. Perhaps it would be that which spoke in the shadows, or it would say too much, tell too much. He waited a bit before slowly shifting to lift her head to look at him, shaking his head silently. He had nothing to say, it was done. There was little else to things. He lightly wiped at tears on her face with his free hand, tilting his head to one side before moving to adjust the barrette in her hair. A silly thing really, but it seemed a bit out of place. Perhaps from when he'd dropped her.

So odd, doing such things amidst chaos, but what did it matter.

The pain wasn't even real. To them perhaps, but a farce to the world itself. It wouldn't matter. Even if he was cut down, nothing would change.

Fates were sealed after all.

Perfect, back in place. He attempted a genuine smile of sorts, though there was no happiness to it. Just that simple knowing sorrow. The reminder was too constant. Afterall, she was fading, he too... He knew it deep down. The worlds steady destruction would sing the bell toll of their ends.

A peaceful, pleasant death. That was all they could beg for now.

Still, his look as he ruffled her hair idly seemed to attempt to say 'see? Better.'

He had her in his arms. That meant she was safe, right? He heard her struggle, heard her say his name, but he wasn't listening anymore. His arms wouldn't let go. They tightened around her, his head ducking to rest against hers, and he muttered in a low growl.

"Don't care anymore, Mjoll. I'm keeping you safe."

She could fight it all she wanted. He had one promise left, and he couldn't let it go. He had to keep Mjoll safe. He had to.

He had to.

The sound of an arrow sliding into flesh did not surprise him. He'd been expecting Lan's attack any minute now. What did surprise him was that he couldn't feel it. Maybe this was what it felt like, to die. His lips started to lift in a smile, before the warmth of Mjoll's life started to drip on his hands. His eyes opened just in time to see hers close, and then she was destroyed, every atom of her torn to pieces, right in his arms.

Right there, in his arms.

His hands were in front of him now, the only things he could see. They had her blood on them, the only sign she'd even been there at all. They shook, as the trauma started to weaken him. He couldn't have failed so easily. Could he?

Bastion dropped to his knees, brought his bloody hands to his face, and wept tears into her blood. An unholy yell ripped from his throat, and in a moment, he was up, running full speed at the culprit of his final failure. In his hands, both of his swords finally emerged from his mana stone, the magic within them promising his new enemy a swift demise. Mjoll's blood rested in handprints across his face, like horrific war markings.

Bastion was gone. In his place, an animal lunged.



Blessing points: 3