[ she watches all these people fill in, and her heart clenches in her chest a little. makes her smile, even, though she doesn't quite realize she's doing it. vi leans forward a bit, looking over junah and eupha - glances back over her shoulder to see basilio making his way to the kitchen. for just a second, strohl might see people he doesn't recognize, too.
a little girl, tinkering with something on the floor nearby. two boys, chattering about something in npc tones.
well, he can put at least one of those together immediately - the tinkering little girl, one plus one makes two, and that must be vi's sister. the rest... unfamiliar faces, for the most part, but he watches them too, attention falling back on jinx.
he can't really help himself - reaching over as they come by, he pats her on the head, npc or otherwise, an easy little interaction for someone who is, in fact, really good with kids. like she belongs on this little runner, like she could. and it's then that he glances over and hears the bit about will. ]
Yeah. [ fond. ] He's a menace with that sword of his though, more than people'd be expecting. And far more than that with his archetypes, too.
[ fun fact - vi's eyes are near the same color as her sister's hair. faded, but the same tone.
the little girl glances up at him, grinning shyly, and then goes back to playing with her toy. a little - well. actually? he might recognize it. it's a toy monkey, like the one they'd found on the stage near vi's murder. huh! weird!
anyway! ]
That's right, he's got all that too. [ a beat. ] Think you can show me those, too? The archetypes? We could spar proper, that way.
[ oof. his hand lingers on her head when he sees that - the word on the back of his shoulder remains, unbeknownst to him, but his thoughts stay with it, too. failing them. failing halia, failing his people, every person on this gauntlet runner, failing vi, failing vi.
strohl shakes his head, and leans a little into vi's shoulder, taking in a breath to himself as he promises himself, promises himself with all of the fire he has remaining, that he has to do better.
the breath comes out, and he hears the question. ]
...Be glad to. I think there's one that'd probably work pretty well for you - Will was able to help someone utilise an archetype, even though they weren't familiar, once. I can't imagine you wouldn't. We can try up on the deck, if you like.
[ it's almost like she can hear what he's thinking. he's so entrenched in it, in protecting, and it's not like she can say anything because she is too. but he's so hard on himself, and the older sibling in vi makes it so that when he leans, she shifts up and one-arm hugs him. ]
Sure. Stop thinking so hard, though. You're stressing yourself out. [ she says, with a little half-grin. ] Let's go. Show me.
[ rrgh. shut up!!! because she's right but that's not the point. he sighs, claps her on the shoulder in a half-return of the hug (and a half thanks, too) and nods. ]
Right. Come on.
[ and up the ladder they go! the air out here is fresh and cool, the breeze from martira like the countryside. it's familiar, a fond memory - even being out here, picking up the archetypes, brings back shades of fighting with gideaux and, ugh, helping glodell. complicated feelings about that one.
but, well. ]
...Archetypes are heroic virtues. The idea is that you face your own anxiety, and harness that determination to utilise them. According to Will, everyone's got the potential to use one - it's just a matter of if they're brave enough to do so. Will's the one who helps us use more than one, but everyone's got one that's theirs. Engraved on their hearts, so to speak.
You saw mine before - Warrior. [ setting his hand to his heart. ] Though it's gotten stronger, since then.
[ she stays for just a bit more when he claps her on the shoulder - and then follows after him.
off they go! off to the deck, and vi takes a second to just stand and close her eyes and enjoy it. it feels nice. it feels... different. this is not what zaun is like at all, there's no fresh air like this, there's no miles of green, there's no clear skies. it's something she thinks she'd like to get used to. don't be too eager, she tells herself. but. it's hard not to be, sometimes.
strohl starts speaking, and vi glances over at him, hands in her jacket pocket as she listens to the explanation. evreybody's got one, he says. she does wonder what her own would be as he explains, head tilting just a bit to the side.
face your own anxiety, huh. ]
Bet it has. You said it's been a minute between these things. [ ... ] Show me?
[ with a grin - it's easy, brimming for a moment with anticipation, because - well, he misses it, when he doesn't have it. ]
[ face the anxiety. face the feeling of losing vi when he returne dfrom that train. face the feeling of danger. of not being able to be near them last thursday, of the approaching thursday night. of the future, of his highness, of basilio and heismay and eupha and junah awaiting, of louis and the horrors of what would happen in the face of failure. face the feeling of failure, take a deep breath, and - ]
Royal warrior! [ - forcefully, out of his mouth. from vi's point of view, she'll see the orange to his eyes, the streaks of light down his cheeks - she'll see that tattoo, failure abruptly reappear on his chest and flood bright orange, too. and then the armor clamps into place, lifting him up a few feet, massive sword in hand. eight feet tall and on top of the world.
his voice sounds a bit metallic from behind it when he speaks again, setting his sword on his back. ]
[ ohhh you got the ROYAL warrior, look at you go, mr. endgame strohl
she watches him, hands in her jacket pockets like always - watches the streaks of light flood through his veins and flash so bright. failure, sharp like a neon sign right in her face. she understands. she wants to give him the time to realize that they can just make it through. stand up again, and again, and again, support each other, and they'll learn to not be afraid of failure together. her own tattoo squirms and changes, shines brightly on her forearm, and she presses her arms against her side a little harder so he can't see.
but of course, her first instinct is to tease him, because she can't help it: ]
Aw, your horns grew like four sizes!
[ really, though. really - she's impressed, because how could she not be? it's on her face, the way the armor settles in place and the way he looks like a real hero, like something out of a story she used to tell powder before bed. ]
the good news is the tattoo seems to fade, with the armor - it's no longer visible at all, no longer appearing above his clothing. what is an archetype if not the absorption of your fears? recognizing that you've failed, and having the strength to carry on anyway?
he rolls his eyes so hard at the horn thing and takes a half lunge at her like he might attack - juking, playful, really, then leans back, tip of his greatsword coming to the ground. it's not so different than the one he carries day to day, here. a true manifestation of his own anxieties, worries, and determination; the pinnacle of his archetype. ]
You should see Hulkenberg. Hers comes with a horse.
[ horse girl hulkenberg. though, this comment's thrown out there as a joke to shy away from the compliment, because he can tell how genuine it is. ]
's not about me, anyhow. I think... It's a simulation, it's not like you'll have to go through the whole... [ ........ ] ...Anyway.
[ the simulation itself reacts a little to this - by which i mean will comes up the ladder, poking his head up. with an easy little smile, he taps vi on the shoulder, and she gets to feel something odd - a rush of something magic, something warm. like a mother's embrace, soft as can be.
in that same, just slightly metallic voice, strohl says - ] Should work for you, now. So... focus in on it, say whatever comes to mind.
[ instinctive, she hops back immediately when he play-lunges at her, grinning and raising her fists. but once he's relaxed, she steps back and watches as he eases into the armor entirely. it suits him, the way her gloves suit her. a mantle handed to them that they stepped up to and put on with ease.
there's something inspiring about this, really. there's so much in her that is afraid, and she does a good job of hiding it, but. there's a reason she's spent so much of the past week and a half drinking. it dulls the fierce terror of losing everything, again. again and again, she can't keep the people she loves close, they just fall from her hands like sand in an hourglass.
she doesn't want to let that happen here, so - so she just won't allow it.
she feels a little silly doing this, but she takes a step back after will taps her, out of strohl's way and out of the prince's way, breathing in deep. rolls her shoulders, cracks her neck, and then shakes her arms out, like a boxer getting ready for a fight in the ring. just focus, and say whatever comes to mind. and with just a little bit of nudging from the room itself, from getting lost in the fantasy of it: ]
Brawler!
[ because of course. like his, her tattoo screams bright and loud in the center of her chest: LOSING EVERYTHING ELSE. and then it's gone, and she's big and bulky and ready, but glowing blue. the metal resembles her gloves, plated from head to toe in the blues and golds of piltover, and across her right eye, those lights form a VI.
but anyway yeah imagine i was like she's a summoner. no. after a second, she shifts around, looking at her hands, and then, with a clear grin in her metallic voice: ]
[ oh that checks out. he almost laughs, actually, at how wildly perfect brawler is.
theres a surge of pride that beats true in his own resonation, that metallic microphone of all anxiety you claim, filled with the sense that of course vi could manage this. that there'll be nothing to worry about, that - well. maybe she won't have to awaken the same way, with all the trauma that comes with it. or maybe she'll find something different. something better.
the fear that blares across her echoes, too, an anxiety he takes on himself, curls close to his chest. not if he has anything to say about it, strohl thinks. not again.
either way, he stares up at vi, a smile dawning onto his face slow but sure. ]
That's the way! Would've been stunned if it'd been Mage. [ there's a wild delight to the way he says that, grinning near ear to ear as he puts his hands on his hips, checking out her cool sick archetype.
one of us, the feeling resonates. a part of our crew. ] One of my favourites, too, brawler - how do you feel?
[ she's sort of just - not flexing, but moving around? trying to see her range of movement. she's pretty quick, and she's definitely heavy. a punch would take someone out. ]
Hah. No thanks to the magic. [ she does not Like the Arcane
but she does like this. she does like feeling like she's part of something. she likes feeling like she could just slot right in, and it'd be okay. no mess. no fuss. just... friends, who won't change for the worst on her, people who want the same things she does. ]
Pretty fucking good, though. This thing would wallop the shit out of a lane runner.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
a little girl, tinkering with something on the floor nearby. two boys, chattering about something in npc tones.
a woman, staring out the window.
vi... ignores them, and looks back at the elda boy. ]
Oh, that's him? [ ... ] Hah, he looks like he's never hurt anybody in his life.
no subject
well, he can put at least one of those together immediately - the tinkering little girl, one plus one makes two, and that must be vi's sister. the rest... unfamiliar faces, for the most part, but he watches them too, attention falling back on jinx.
he can't really help himself - reaching over as they come by, he pats her on the head, npc or otherwise, an easy little interaction for someone who is, in fact, really good with kids. like she belongs on this little runner, like she could. and it's then that he glances over and hears the bit about will. ]
Yeah. [ fond. ] He's a menace with that sword of his though, more than people'd be expecting. And far more than that with his archetypes, too.
no subject
the little girl glances up at him, grinning shyly, and then goes back to playing with her toy. a little - well. actually? he might recognize it. it's a toy monkey, like the one they'd found on the stage near vi's murder. huh! weird!
anyway! ]
That's right, he's got all that too. [ a beat. ] Think you can show me those, too? The archetypes? We could spar proper, that way.
no subject
strohl shakes his head, and leans a little into vi's shoulder, taking in a breath to himself as he promises himself, promises himself with all of the fire he has remaining, that he has to do better.
the breath comes out, and he hears the question. ]
...Be glad to. I think there's one that'd probably work pretty well for you - Will was able to help someone utilise an archetype, even though they weren't familiar, once. I can't imagine you wouldn't. We can try up on the deck, if you like.
no subject
Sure. Stop thinking so hard, though. You're stressing yourself out. [ she says, with a little half-grin. ] Let's go. Show me.
no subject
[ rrgh. shut up!!! because she's right but that's not the point. he sighs, claps her on the shoulder in a half-return of the hug (and a half thanks, too) and nods. ]
Right. Come on.
[ and up the ladder they go! the air out here is fresh and cool, the breeze from martira like the countryside. it's familiar, a fond memory - even being out here, picking up the archetypes, brings back shades of fighting with gideaux and, ugh, helping glodell. complicated feelings about that one.
but, well. ]
...Archetypes are heroic virtues. The idea is that you face your own anxiety, and harness that determination to utilise them. According to Will, everyone's got the potential to use one - it's just a matter of if they're brave enough to do so. Will's the one who helps us use more than one, but everyone's got one that's theirs. Engraved on their hearts, so to speak.
You saw mine before - Warrior. [ setting his hand to his heart. ] Though it's gotten stronger, since then.
no subject
off they go! off to the deck, and vi takes a second to just stand and close her eyes and enjoy it. it feels nice. it feels... different. this is not what zaun is like at all, there's no fresh air like this, there's no miles of green, there's no clear skies. it's something she thinks she'd like to get used to. don't be too eager, she tells herself. but. it's hard not to be, sometimes.
strohl starts speaking, and vi glances over at him, hands in her jacket pocket as she listens to the explanation. evreybody's got one, he says. she does wonder what her own would be as he explains, head tilting just a bit to the side.
face your own anxiety, huh. ]
Bet it has. You said it's been a minute between these things. [ ... ] Show me?
no subject
[ with a grin - it's easy, brimming for a moment with anticipation, because - well, he misses it, when he doesn't have it. ]
[ face the anxiety. face the feeling of losing vi when he returne dfrom that train. face the feeling of danger. of not being able to be near them last thursday, of the approaching thursday night. of the future, of his highness, of basilio and heismay and eupha and junah awaiting, of louis and the horrors of what would happen in the face of failure. face the feeling of failure, take a deep breath, and - ]
Royal warrior! [ - forcefully, out of his mouth. from vi's point of view, she'll see the orange to his eyes, the streaks of light down his cheeks - she'll see that tattoo, failure abruptly reappear on his chest and flood bright orange, too. and then the armor clamps into place, lifting him up a few feet, massive sword in hand. eight feet tall and on top of the world.
his voice sounds a bit metallic from behind it when he speaks again, setting his sword on his back. ]
There you have it.
no subject
she watches him, hands in her jacket pockets like always - watches the streaks of light flood through his veins and flash so bright. failure, sharp like a neon sign right in her face. she understands. she wants to give him the time to realize that they can just make it through. stand up again, and again, and again, support each other, and they'll learn to not be afraid of failure together. her own tattoo squirms and changes, shines brightly on her forearm, and she presses her arms against her side a little harder so he can't see.
but of course, her first instinct is to tease him, because she can't help it: ]
Aw, your horns grew like four sizes!
[ really, though. really - she's impressed, because how could she not be? it's on her face, the way the armor settles in place and the way he looks like a real hero, like something out of a story she used to tell powder before bed. ]
Damn. Look at you.
no subject
the good news is the tattoo seems to fade, with the armor - it's no longer visible at all, no longer appearing above his clothing. what is an archetype if not the absorption of your fears? recognizing that you've failed, and having the strength to carry on anyway?
he rolls his eyes so hard at the horn thing and takes a half lunge at her like he might attack - juking, playful, really, then leans back, tip of his greatsword coming to the ground. it's not so different than the one he carries day to day, here. a true manifestation of his own anxieties, worries, and determination; the pinnacle of his archetype. ]
You should see Hulkenberg. Hers comes with a horse.
[ horse girl hulkenberg. though, this comment's thrown out there as a joke to shy away from the compliment, because he can tell how genuine it is. ]
's not about me, anyhow. I think... It's a simulation, it's not like you'll have to go through the whole... [ ........ ] ...Anyway.
[ the simulation itself reacts a little to this - by which i mean will comes up the ladder, poking his head up. with an easy little smile, he taps vi on the shoulder, and she gets to feel something odd - a rush of something magic, something warm. like a mother's embrace, soft as can be.
in that same, just slightly metallic voice, strohl says - ] Should work for you, now. So... focus in on it, say whatever comes to mind.
[ we already know what this is going to be. ]
no subject
there's something inspiring about this, really. there's so much in her that is afraid, and she does a good job of hiding it, but. there's a reason she's spent so much of the past week and a half drinking. it dulls the fierce terror of losing everything, again. again and again, she can't keep the people she loves close, they just fall from her hands like sand in an hourglass.
she doesn't want to let that happen here, so - so she just won't allow it.
she feels a little silly doing this, but she takes a step back after will taps her, out of strohl's way and out of the prince's way, breathing in deep. rolls her shoulders, cracks her neck, and then shakes her arms out, like a boxer getting ready for a fight in the ring. just focus, and say whatever comes to mind. and with just a little bit of nudging from the room itself, from getting lost in the fantasy of it: ]
Brawler!
[ because of course. like his, her tattoo screams bright and loud in the center of her chest: LOSING EVERYTHING ELSE. and then it's gone, and she's big and bulky and ready, but glowing blue. the metal resembles her gloves, plated from head to toe in the blues and golds of piltover, and across her right eye, those lights form a VI.
but anyway yeah imagine i was like she's a summoner. no. after a second, she shifts around, looking at her hands, and then, with a clear grin in her metallic voice: ]
Holy shit.
no subject
theres a surge of pride that beats true in his own resonation, that metallic microphone of all anxiety you claim, filled with the sense that of course vi could manage this. that there'll be nothing to worry about, that - well. maybe she won't have to awaken the same way, with all the trauma that comes with it. or maybe she'll find something different. something better.
the fear that blares across her echoes, too, an anxiety he takes on himself, curls close to his chest. not if he has anything to say about it, strohl thinks. not again.
either way, he stares up at vi, a smile dawning onto his face slow but sure. ]
That's the way! Would've been stunned if it'd been Mage. [ there's a wild delight to the way he says that, grinning near ear to ear as he puts his hands on his hips, checking out her cool sick archetype.
one of us, the feeling resonates. a part of our crew. ] One of my favourites, too, brawler - how do you feel?
no subject
Hah. No thanks to the magic. [ she does not Like the Arcane
but she does like this. she does like feeling like she's part of something. she likes feeling like she could just slot right in, and it'd be okay. no mess. no fuss. just... friends, who won't change for the worst on her, people who want the same things she does. ]
Pretty fucking good, though. This thing would wallop the shit out of a lane runner.