[ 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.
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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.