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 Posted: Sat Oct 09, 2021 10:07 pm
Interacting with the Negaverse was something that Fólkvangr found...uncomfortable. She hadn't done it much, yet, and it sort of made her feel bad to have tracked down a Lieutenant to tangle with when she was a Squyire and thus had access to more strength, speed, and magic. And also, while her weapon wasn't great, a fan wasn't total garbage.
But still. Energy draining simply could not be allowed to go on, and so she had paused to hunt down the Lieutenant. What a way to divert from an otherwise quiet evening; she would have to make this worth the choice to engage.
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Posted: Sun Oct 10, 2021 7:45 pm
Gismondine had awful luck. He knew this to be true, had known this to be true from the very moment he was recruited into the Negaverse, but even with his awful luck, he had made some pretty great friends. He missed Parisite something awful still, but Sylvite was such a wonderful General, who made him feel very safe. He wasn’t comfortable doing many of his duties alone, but was trying. He was always trying.
Tonight, he was practicing with his cutlery, trying to make the cheap fork and butter knife move in a way that would make them seem to be at least a little intimidating.
Practicing with Sylvite’s daggers had been helpful in that aspect at least, now that he could move his own rather useless things as though they were the daggers...he could at least look like he had half an idea of what he was doing…
The sudden blaze of an order signature made him freeze, and his blood run cold.
...This was someone stronger than he was...not as strong as the one that kept trying to strangle him but…
...But Sylvite wasn’t here, and he was very alone.
Swallowing hard, Gismondine took a stance that he hoped looked impressive and held his utensils up, waiting for his enemy to appear.
He was hoping that maybe they were friendly, that maybe this would be nothing more than a social call, but...he didn’t really have much hope.
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Posted: Sun Oct 10, 2021 8:43 pm
Fólkvangr moved swiftly; she didn't want to hesitate and let this Lieutenant get up to any kind of shenanigans. Best to neutralize him quickly, and get the fight over with as fast as possible. So when she came up on him, she was already evaluating how to get close enough to use her magic.
"Look at you," she said, as she strode forward, "are you trying to intimidate me with a fork and a knife?" That was just sad. Her first stage weapon had been a paper fan, though, so she was pretty sure she couldn't talk, since at least you could potentially do some damage with a fork or knife.
She just had to get into touching distance, and she could command him to tell her what he was up to, and she was pretty sure he'd want to tell her; that was the beauty of her magic.
She just needed an opening. That was all it would take.
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Posted: Mon Oct 11, 2021 6:46 pm
“I...is it w-working?” Gismondine stuttered out, looking almost hopeful. Because if it was working...then he and Sylvite had done well. “B-because that’s the goal…I...I d-don’t want...trouble…”
God but she was moving so swiftly. If he died tonight...that would be it. He would be dead, and unless somehow Parisite showed up out of nowhere, he was all on his own.
For a moment, the lieutenant didn’t feel like he could breathe, and threw the fork at her. No style. No finesse, not prongs first even. Threw it just in the hopes to make her move away so he could run like hell.
He kept the butter knife, just in case, but god if it got to be just in case…
Bye-bye Nelson.
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Posted: Mon Oct 11, 2021 6:52 pm
Oh.
Oh, he was absolutely, obviously terrified.
Fólkvangr softened, as she brought up her weapon to bat aside the fork that came flying at her. It was honestly more than a little sad, the way he trembled and desperately tried to defend himself.
She simply didn't have the heart to fight or menace someone who was so obviously terrified. What was he even doing out alone like this--whatever officers were responsible for him were clearly terribly negligent, and the thought made her stomach churn. That was the way of it, wasn't it? Send these sweet, scared kittens out into the wild to encounter dangerous foes on the other side, and they would get killed, and the Negaverse shrugged its shoulders and let them go.
Utterly disgusting. Yet another way they chewed people up just to spit them back out. She was so glad she'd escaped that miserable, relentless machine.
She darted in, snapping open her fan and tapping him on the shoulder with it to activate her magic. She couldn't risk this being an act, and so she would end this as swiftly as she could--her magic, she was fairly certain, would be more than enough.
"Darling," she said, voice gentle, "you don't want to fight me. I don't want to fight you. So why don't you just go home, hmm? It would make me very happy if you took care of yourself." That was, in fact, the truth: she didn't want to see some poor Lieutenant die.Quote: Fólkvangr taps one target with her fan, and they begin to smell something that to them will resemble whatever they desire most - a person, a thing, a place, or anything at all - and will be infused with a certainty that Fólkvangr has it and can give it to them. For as long as Fólkvangr is channeling, the affected targets will feel compelled to do whatever she wants in order to earn her favor and receive it. This compulsion can be resisted if she gives an order or asks a question that goes wholly against their nature or would likely result in their death or an impermissible identity reveal. Fólkvangr can channel for up to 30 seconds.
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Posted: Mon Oct 11, 2021 7:06 pm
Gismondine closed his eyes in defeat when she continued to move closer, when she swatted away the fork as easily as breathing. It was all over. Clearly.
Expecting a blow, or hands around his throat, the soft tap on his shoulder with the fan was confusing, and as such, it made him open his eyes with a start and a yelp.
But…
Oh.
Gismondine looked at her for a moment, swallowing several times before he nodded slowly. “...You...r-really?” She was being so nice...she wanted him to take care of himself? That…”
He swallowed hard once again, forcing back the tears or relief that came into his eyes. “...It’s not a t-trick? You’re not...going to...going to try and s-strangle me when I turn away…?” Going home sounded so wonderful though...and making her...making her happy sounded so wonderful…
She was very nice indeed...but he was scared. Perhaps a bit more than he should be.
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Posted: Mon Oct 11, 2021 7:30 pm
"I promise," Fólkvangr said, "no tricks. I'm going to let you go, and I won't hurt you, and we'll part ways and forget this ever happened."
It was simple, and easy, and it was what she wanted to do. This poor Lieutenant didn't deserve to get thrown around or battered down, not when he'd clearly already had some sort of horrible traumatic experience. The thought made her heart sink. Poor thing, who had scared him this badly? His own people, or theirs?
"Go. Just don't get yourself into any trouble, hmm?"
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Posted: Tue Oct 12, 2021 5:45 am
Gismondine ran the back of his hand across his stinging eyes and nodded. “...Thank you. You...You’re really nice. Thank you…” He moved, stopping to pick up his fork before hesitating and glancing back to the Squire, chewing his lip. “I...I hope m-maybe if I have to run into...anyone again...It...it’s you!”
If he could make her happy? Proud of him?
...That would be so nice.
But Gismondine hurried away, as she said. He wouldn’t get into any trouble, he wouldn’t do anything that she didn’t want him to.
Of course, by the time he got home...it didn’t seem nearly as important.
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