ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs

^{ignisxxfatuus}

He had to excuse Richter. Emil’s breath was caught in the back of his throat as he followed, boots touching against stone out-cropping of stairs. Harley had caught him, after Richter left, to try and talk to him about Richter. What? Emil had been unsure of what was the big problem. Only when the Oh right. Humans can’t tell, spilled past the others lips did it make Emil’s skin crawl.

What didn’t he know? What couldn’t he see? What was something so minute but telling about Richter that Harley could pick up on it ( as someone who didn’t even know Richter ) that he couldn’t? His thoughts continued like this, his footing careful as Richter was just a step or so ahead of him getting to the alter.

When they finally settled besides the warp pad, Emil bit at his lip. The warp pad had deactivated … 

              “U-uhm…” he glanced to the red-head,
               unsure, “Can we … get in without Marta?”

Budding & Blossom

There are very specific things that Emil remembers.

The  good people he meets, the rough pommel of the sword between his fingers, the warm blood splash across his face, the soothing remarks given by people who were terrorized, adrenaline zipping through his veins, the calmness of his heart … Sometimes people had difficulty understanding that. Sometimes they forgot to remind themselves that they needed help, and that help can come from a stranger. Gentle hands, worked hands, so like that of a mercenary, yet nothing like the rough men who fought for money. No bargain struck, only a smile …

Sometimes it was more difficult. Sometimes he grew drained, dizzy, tired, unable to continue going. Forced instead to rely on himself in a different way, one he typically avoided unless he drew too much from situation he knew too little about. Sensed the fear of monsters and men, but could not help … Pushed, pushed so hard that his body collapses — only to rise up a second later with a biting tongue. For, once kindness had it’s turn, it was then ferocity’s turn. Unfortunately, this had given some pause, some back-lashing to people who did not deserve it, leaving Emil in a precarious situation …

Waking up on the road, with nothing but his own mess to fix, his own faults to stand trial for, a man with a black eye, bleeding nose, and teeth knocked in staring him down as a monster.

Forever would he be glad to see the ruler afterwards. She who saw reason, was careful to calculate and offered him a chance to get back up. Perhaps he would visit her again! The thought had come precariously to mind, quickly dismissed as a thought ‘too unlikely’, yet, as he wandered through the crowded castle streets, spotting the veranda not too far, did a brilliant thought come to mind. He was here, was he not? Why not … go and see her?

Sliding his way inward, he grabbed a handful of flowers, the bouquet nothing elegant or fancy, but a sweet gesture. No romantic ties came from such an object, tied together with some ribbon that looked —perhaps— a few rupees at most. The flowers chosen? Well, there was quite a few, wild flowers, mostly, a few weeds in the mixing pot. Yet, he didn’t stop, didn’t let his gift readiness (or there-lack-of,) stop him. Instead, going to a guard and whispering in his ear (the plea of a young child was always so convincing wasn’t it?) that he wanted to see the princess just to give her a gift.

He was looked down on, and then, with a fluster of nods, was given permission. Emil however, glanced away a bit bitter. He was much older than most ever gave him credit for … the twenty-year-old summon spirit did not complain, however, as he was drawn towards a library-esque room, books stacking the walls, catching his breath in intrigue and curiosity. What was here? What knowledge was hidden in the depths of these shelves? Yet, biting back his awe, the guard knocked sagely at the entrance-way, calling out there being a person to see her Highness.

Emil’s lips softly turned upwards, a green gaze much, much older than his form looked. Awaiting an agreement or a disengagement at-which he would merely set the flowers down, apologize for his intrusion and leave. The boy understand nobility, where-as he would prefer to say he did not, yet every society attempted a monarchy at one point or another, and the young summoned spirit had certainly lived through a few.

⎡ ???: ⎦

   "I-I’m sorry … you were speaking and I th-think you …
    might have lost me around the ancient p-people or
    were th-they called something else?“

⎡ ???: ⎦

   { It’s different– }

Emil ignored his thoughts, the differing tone, deeper, darker than
the  young  blonde  truly  felt.  His  hands lifted out to the person
who  seemed  to  just  be  standing  there.  Why? It felt … maybe 
something was wrong? 

   "H-hello? Excuse me … are you
    quite alright?“

⎡ ???: ⎦

   “Hehe, w-why so jumpy?”

The summon spirit leaned on his feet,
head tilted to the side curiously.

⎡ ???: ⎦

   “Y-you know … I can see you.”

More like sense. It was words, spoken aloud
to the air in hopes to draw forth the shadows
captor.

⎡ ???: ⎦

Monsters were Emil’s proficiency. That’s
just how the boy was. Which meant, that
 he  did  stupid  things  every  once  in  a 
while such as: fighting  monsters out in a
town where people saw,  screamed, and
ran. 

Yet never thought twice about it.

   “C-Come on, Orion! I know you can do b-better!”

   Emil’s lips were dry, mouth open, unsure.

                         { What is that thing? }

   It dragged him here, calling to him, made
   muscles clench and fear  coat  his tongue
   for he  did not belong here.  Still, it spoke
   to him, whispering things, voices…

   A finger  went to touch the shape, sparks
   curling  about his hand before he quickly
   jerked   it  back,  eyes   wide,  jolted  into
   what  he  was  doing. His eyes turning, a
   presence   in    the    room    making   the
   summon spirit  want  to  cringe  as  he –
   ever  so   slowly–   turned   to   a  staring 
   individual.

      “I’m s-sorry…” It was a whisper, voice hoarse,
      “It…it j-just…” { Get ’t away from me! } “It…”

   He’d never heard of spyrix, nor the tools
   these people  were  developing  towards
   helping… he’d never heard…

scionofkresnik replied to your post:

//-throws elle at u-

   "A-and who are you?“

Emil’s smile was happy, having caught the smaller child and setting her down, brushing off her clothes carefully and checking for scrapes. His eyes closed as he giggled–

   ”Did you g-get lost? I c-could help you find your way home.
    or help y-you look for someone…“

One very confused blonde stood besides the current looking a bit more lost than usual.

   “U-uhm…”

He glanced around, trying to find Aqua or another spirit which could grant him powers of ‘holding ones breath for long periods of time under water’. “H-how come…”

                                        “How come I’m n-not drowning?”