Practice Grounds - Evening - Overcast
Vridel von Hresvelg
Cyril had blocked out the entire practice arena for the day, and Vridel made absolutely sure to arrive first. It wasn't that he planned to not participate; on the contrary, he would at least try to use the Crest everyone knew he had. It was something he could do very reliably because of the experiments. He might be able to help the others, if any of them were struggling to do so at will. He knew Thea was quite good now; having Lyanna to teach her was helpful in that respect, he supposed. Senka and the Professor had been practicing by themselves for some time, as she also had a Relic which surely required even greater control of it.
But at the moment he meant to seek the Professor for something else entirely.
Vridel had never really had what he'd call a mentor. Tutors, yes. People paid to sit with him regularly and teach him things until he mastered them or they quit from frustration. Typically, neither took long and it was a race to the finish. Certainly, there had never been anyone in his life he trusted enough to ask for counsel on anything important, not before he came here.
But... even though Cyril was scarcely older than he was, he did trust him in that way. And, well, there were some rather momentous problems in front of him. He found that he just wanted to... talk it over with someone.
Fortunately, the Professor appeared a moment later, his nose buried in an unfamiliar book. The simple leather cover made Vridel think it might be a journal of some kind.
“Professor?" he inquired.
Cyril looked up, uncharacteristically surprised. Had he really not even sensed that he was here?
“Is everything all right?" Perhaps a stupid question, given recent circumstances, but...
The Professor sighed quietly, closing the book over and gesturing vaguely with it. “My father's," he said. “It's been... interesting to read. I suppose I might be obsessing a bit, trying to find answers that aren't there."
“I know the feeling," Vridel said simply.
“You're early," Cyril observed mildly, stowing the journal in a satchel. “Hoping to get some extra practice in, or...?"
“Hoping to talk to you, actually," he said, surprising himself with his frankness. He supposed he really had changed over the course of the last nine months. “I wish I knew about what. I just—" He pushed a breath from his nose.“There's a lot going on, with all this stuff about Sen coming out, and it's just reminded me that this is the kind of problem I'm going to have to deal with over and over again when I go back to Adrestia."
Not home. He doubted he'd think about it that way ever again. This was his home now, if he even had one. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that they were.
“And I'm not exactly going to have nine of the most capable people I know there to help me fix it." He really wasn't sure what he was seeking. He had plans—some tentative ones, at least, alliances he was carefully laying the groundwork for in correspondence even now, but it wouldn't do to build castles on sand, or place all his hopes in such things. He was gathering information on his adversaries, too, but as of yet there wasn't much he could use. He suspected that if he wanted his country under his control, assassinations would be necessary, but...
As readily as he would once have done those things, or ordered them done, he found himself wanting now to be better than that, better than he was. Much of it was because of Thea, of course. He wanted to be the person she saw in him, and that person would never assassinate his political opponents. But it was also the rest of them: the way Mercer was ruthless but had clear ethical boundaries he would never cross, the way Sorcha slowly worked to conquer a system that rejected her through sheer hard work and good will, no matter how many times it stung her. Even the way every strategy Cyril devised or suggested in class relied on the same fundamental premise:
Protect each other, and don't leave anyone behind.
How much would it be worth, if he won at the expense of being the kind of man who could not uphold the right principles? The principles he hoped the entire world could be brought to live by? Perhaps he'd become a foolish idealist at some point this year, but... he was, in a strange way, happier than he'd ever been as a downhearted cynic. And he felt more sure. That had to count for something.
“I don't know how much I can help," Cyril admitted softly. “Matters of countries, and rulership... I don't really know anything about those. But—if it helps, I think you always will have the nine most capable people you know. Not right next door, but—we won't vanish from your life just because we're farther away. You can still call on us, for what that's worth. And... I think you have all you need to be successful. You're clever, Vridel, very much so, and you've come a long way. And you've got something to live for. I think when it's all said and done, you'll be fine."
The Professor wasn't the flattering type—quite the opposite. He was often blunt in his honesty, even when the truth was a bit ugly. So Vridel knew he meant that, and somehow...
Somehow it was exactly what he'd needed to hear in this moment. Perhaps because it came from him.
“Thanks, Cyril."
The other man nodded. “Write me sometimes, okay?"
Vridel chuckled at that. “Oh you won't get rid of me that easily. I'm sure I'll be wanting plenty of tactical and strategic advice from here on out."
A couple of people entered the practice ring, next, and from the voices, Vridel knew it to be Amalthea and Mercer.
“Ha! I won, Mercer! Now you have to eat nothing but fruits for the rest of the month!" Amalthea stated, grinning from ear to ear as Mercer pouted in her direction. From the looks of it, they had been racing to the training grounds and had placed a bet of some sorts. Amalthea was clearly the winner, if the triumphant look on her face was anything to go by.
“Yeah, well you cheated," Mercer huffed slightly as he glanced at Vridel. “You have a cheater in your midst," he stated, pointing towards Thea who merely furrowed her brows at him.
“You're just a sore loser, Mercer von Riegan. Now hush and take it like a man!" she stated, pointing a finger at him. Mercer couldn't hold back his amusement and began laughing to the point that he almost doubled over.
“I can't, Thea. I'm a delicate flower."
“Mercer, how did you lose? She has short legs and wears armor everywhere. Did you forget how to run or something?" Vridel arched an eyebrow, shorting softly with amusement. Of course, when Sorcha appeared a few moments later, he had to wonder if perhaps his friend hadn't gotten distracted.
“Hey guys," she said, rolling out her shoulders and moving into a few pre-spar stretches. “Crest practice today, huh?"
He thought she sounded a little nervous, but then he didn't blame her for that. Sorcha had never used hers, that he knew of. It was something of a sensitive spot for her, he had to imagine, considering how vital it was to the history of her bloodline and country.
Thea pursed her lips in Vridel's direction as Mercer tried to catch his breath. “You insult me by saying I'm not fast, Vridel von Hresvelg." The smile on her face, though, suggested that she wasn't at all, mad at him. Mercer rolled his eyes softly, though, and took a deep breath.
“I got distracted by someone," he replied, his eyes narrowing in mischief towards Sorcha. He arched a brow in her direction, before chuckling lightly. “And yes, we are here for Crest practice since some of us don't exactly have training partners," he put emphasis on the last word as his eyes slid towards Cyril before going back to Vridel.
“It's not our fault we decided to actually practice in pairs, you know," Thea stated, arching a brow in Mercer's direction before shaking her head. She glanced around and pursed her lips. “Usually I'm the one who's late; where's Senka?" she stated, glancing towards Sorcha as if she'd know. It was Mercer who answered, though.
“She probably got distracted by something. I'm sure she'll be here in a few minutes," he stated, shrugging his shoulders lightly. Thea made a slight 'oh' with her mouth and smiled. “We can get started without her, though, since she's had a bit more practice than most of us."
Cyril looked a little troubled by this; it definitely wasn't like her to be late. “I'm going to check around just in case," he murmured. “Vridel, can you get everyone started?"
He nodded a little. “Sure." When Cyril had moved out of the ring at a slow jog, he turned to the others. “All right, so Thea and I can reliably use our Crests at will; what about you two?"
“Pretty sure I've never used it in my life," Sorcha admitted. “I don't even have the first clue how."
“Eh, I'm still having a bit of trouble using mine," Mercer replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I can activate it sometimes, but not all the time. It's a lot better than it used to be," he continued, pushing a sigh through his nose. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking it out a bit before he dropped it to his side.
“It usually helps when I'm thinking about something other than trying to kill someone, if you know what I mean," he added.
Vridel blinked. “I don't think I do. Is there something else in particular it helps to think about?" He knew of course that Thea's Crest was tied to healing and so obviously didn't activate in the case of hostile intent, but... Mercer's was more like his or Sorcha's, and should work accordingly.
Mercer sighed and shook his head. “As far as I know about my Crest, it allows me to see things clearer and sharper than most people, which in point, allows me to hit targets with uncanny accuracy," he began, pursing his lips together. “You all know how I feel about needlessly killing someone, however; I find that it activates a lot easier when I'm focused on keeping someone alive."
“During most of our missions, my focus is making sure everyone lives. If I see someone trying to ambush one of our friends, or trying to sneak attack someone, my Crest seems to activate a lot easier, hence why it's easier to activate if I'm thinking about something else."
Ah, that made more sense. “Once you've mastered it, what you do or don't intend to do won't matter much," Vridel noted. “It will be just as easy to do one way or another. But if you know that much, then you've got a good place to start. For me it mostly came down to repeating it so many times I learned the feel and could reproduce it at any moment."
By way of demonstration, he activated the Crest of Seiros, the silver-white outline appearing on his brow. It seemed to ripple the air around him, charging it with a live, almost crackling potential, but it was nothing so disruptive as the first time Sen had used hers—it was fully under his control, after all. “Obviously I don't intend to take a swing at any of you, for protection or otherwise, but... there it is." He shrugged, keeping it active.
“Sometimes one Crest activating can sort of... help draw another out, so I'll keep this. Grab a practice weapon and I guess we'll see what we can do."
Sorcha nodded, rolling up her sleeves and taking a lance down from the rack of practice weapons. “I'm pretty sure mine could work with a bow, but I've only ever seen it with a lance so I guess I'd better start there."
Mercer shrugged his shoulders and grabbed one of the practice bows and quivers. “I guess I can have fun shooting arrows at you all day," Mercer stated, grinning lightly before glancing towards Thea. “Are you going to let your partner practice by himself, Thea?" he stated, causing her to purse her lips together. She shook her head, though.
“Nope, but my Crest isn't as inclined for battle as yours or his is. I won't be of much help, but if what he says is true," she stated, sliding her eyes towards Vridel, “then I can at least keep mine activated as we spar. I don't mind." The smile on her face suggested that she did not, infact, mind.
“Well, only if you're sure," Mercer replied as he shifted the bow from his right hand to his left.
Vridel grinned. “Then we can two-on-two it. Try not to lose to us too quickly."
Hopping into the ring, he waited for the others to do the same before lighting a spell, undercharging it so it wouldn't do any major damage to anyone. He hurled it for Sorcha, who rolled smoothly out of the way, coming up out of it to lunge for Thea; clearly she intended to occupy the melee half of the other team.
Mercer didn't seem to mind as he quickly notched an arrow to his bow, and aimed it for Vridel. Thea, on the other hand, used the practice axe in her hand to block the tip of the lance and twisted out of its reach before moving towards Sorcha, axe raised and aiming for her shoulder. Mercer's arrow missed, though, as he clicked his tongue in disappointment. He dodged another one of Vridel's spells, but didn't seem at all interested in letting his arrows fly. Instead, he seemed to be watching Vridel's movements, as if gauging them in order to react properly.
Thea seemed to be doing a little better on her end, holding up against Sorcha's lance by occasionally deflecting it, or twisting out of the way. Unfortunately, though, that meant that she couldn't get too close in with her practice axe, and it wasn't until one of Mercer's arrows let loose in her direction that the faint glow of his Crest made its appearance on his wrist. It seemed he intended to protect Sorcha for a moment. The arrow hit Thea's arm, causing her to momentarily stop in her swing.
“Good!" Vridel said, genuinely excited. “Now remember how that feels, and keep it active as long as you can." That was the real trick to it, honestly—as long as a person could get over that first initial hurdle and remember how it felt, the rest was comparatively simple.
Sorcha, on the other hand, just looked frustrated. Vridel suspected but couldn't know for sure that it likely really did take aggression to activate the Crest of Blaiddyd. It was called the Grim Dragon's Crest in the legend, after all. They'd probably have to provoke her, in a way that even ordinary battle usually didn't.
That was it.
“Thea—go for Mercer," Vridel said. All she had to do was keep him busy and keep the pressure on him so Vridel could prepare a much stronger blow. If it worked, it might actually knock him out—but he was sort of counting on it not working.
Thea nodded her head as she switched targets. Mercer, who seemed to anticipate her movement, nocked an arrow as quickly as he could and aimed it for her. She brought up the axe to block it, watching as the arrow hit the flat part of her axe, and continued making her way towards him. It looked more like she was chasing him than anything, probably because Mercer was trying to keep his distance in order to get a better fix on her. But she seemed to be doing just as Vridel told her. She was going after Mercer and keeping his attention on her, never mind that Sorcha was still there.
“Mercer von Riegan, stop fleeing!" she shouted at him, causing Mercer to snort softly. Even if their spar was, for all intents and purposes, serious, they at least seemed to be getting the hang of their Crests.
“No can do, Thea. That's the whole point of being an archer, is keeping my distance so I can do this!" he stated, fitting another arrow into his bow and aiming for her shoulder.
By this point, Vridel had charged up the spell, fending Sorcha off with the sword in his free hand. He let a little flicker of fire bleed into it, just to threaten more damage than he really intended to do.
“Is that all you've got, Sorcha?" he drawled, almost lazily lobbing the spell towards Mercer.
The only warning he got was a burst of light, and then suddenly there was a lance a hairsbreadth from his nose. He actually felt a lock of his hair fall, fluttering past his shoulders and towards the ground. The spell, somehow, had guttered out; it seemed the lance had passed through it fast enough that it actually lost its integrity. He didn't know when it had happened, but his other hand was completely empty. The sword clattered to the ground a moment later.
Vridel blinked at the lance, following the shaft of it down towards his stepsister, who was regarding him with wide, almost startled blue eyes. The inside of her right forearm bore an ice-blue rune, spiky where so many Crests were smooth.
“Vivi? Are you okay? You were kind of... really slow there for a second."
Mercer, however, seemed to find it absolutely hilarious, and was currently doubled over with laughter. Amalthea had abandoned him and jogged up to Vridel and Sorcha, looking curiously at Sorcha with a bright smile.
“That was really cool, Sorcha! It looks like your Crest makes you incredibly fast. I didn't even see you move!" Thea exclaimed as Mercer walked up to the three of them. He was grinning from ear to ear as he arched a brow at Sorcha.
“So... I wonder what else it makes you fast with," he stated, arching his brow in a suggestive way, causing Thea to smack him in the shoulder.
“Mercer von Riegan you hush your stupid fish face and congratulate her properly!" she stated, pursing her lips at him. His smile turned sly as he glanced down at Sorcha.
“Well you heard the lady, how should I properly congratulate you?"
Sorcha narrowed her eyes, a slight flush rising to her face. “Wouldn't being too fast be more of a concern for you than me, lord fish-face?" she replied, tilting her head at him.
Vridel snickered.
“As for proper congratulations... I don't really need any. It wasn't a contest, after all. And now we've all done it, so maybe we just show the Professor and Sen when they reappear and then all go eat?"
“Speaking of," Vridel murmured. “Where are they?"
Mercer snickered softly as he shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows. Maybe they got distracted by something," he stated. Amalthea rolled her eyes, however; a light huffing sound caught her attention.
“You would like that, wouldn't you, Mercer?" Senka stated as she came into view with Cyril. “I apologize for the tardiness. I... got caught up by something," she stated, her eyes narrowing softly as Mercer shook his head.
“No worries, Sen. You and Teach just missed Sor and I activating our Crest, is all."
“Oh? Well I'm sure Sorcha did wonderfully."
“And what about me? No praise for me, Sen?" Mercer whined. Senka regarded him with a flat stare, though.
“No."
“Ouch, Sen. That hurts."
“You're a delicate flower, remember, Merc?" Thea supplied, giggling lightly.
“And now you've corrupted Thea."
“She has not," Vridel asserted. “Corrupting Thea is my job, and I'm quite good at it."
Sorcha laughed.
And somehow he figured that for all the uncertainty of the future, the present was too excellent to regret.
But at the moment he meant to seek the Professor for something else entirely.
Vridel had never really had what he'd call a mentor. Tutors, yes. People paid to sit with him regularly and teach him things until he mastered them or they quit from frustration. Typically, neither took long and it was a race to the finish. Certainly, there had never been anyone in his life he trusted enough to ask for counsel on anything important, not before he came here.
But... even though Cyril was scarcely older than he was, he did trust him in that way. And, well, there were some rather momentous problems in front of him. He found that he just wanted to... talk it over with someone.
Fortunately, the Professor appeared a moment later, his nose buried in an unfamiliar book. The simple leather cover made Vridel think it might be a journal of some kind.
“Professor?" he inquired.
Cyril looked up, uncharacteristically surprised. Had he really not even sensed that he was here?
“Is everything all right?" Perhaps a stupid question, given recent circumstances, but...
The Professor sighed quietly, closing the book over and gesturing vaguely with it. “My father's," he said. “It's been... interesting to read. I suppose I might be obsessing a bit, trying to find answers that aren't there."
“I know the feeling," Vridel said simply.
“You're early," Cyril observed mildly, stowing the journal in a satchel. “Hoping to get some extra practice in, or...?"
“Hoping to talk to you, actually," he said, surprising himself with his frankness. He supposed he really had changed over the course of the last nine months. “I wish I knew about what. I just—" He pushed a breath from his nose.“There's a lot going on, with all this stuff about Sen coming out, and it's just reminded me that this is the kind of problem I'm going to have to deal with over and over again when I go back to Adrestia."
Not home. He doubted he'd think about it that way ever again. This was his home now, if he even had one. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that they were.
“And I'm not exactly going to have nine of the most capable people I know there to help me fix it." He really wasn't sure what he was seeking. He had plans—some tentative ones, at least, alliances he was carefully laying the groundwork for in correspondence even now, but it wouldn't do to build castles on sand, or place all his hopes in such things. He was gathering information on his adversaries, too, but as of yet there wasn't much he could use. He suspected that if he wanted his country under his control, assassinations would be necessary, but...
As readily as he would once have done those things, or ordered them done, he found himself wanting now to be better than that, better than he was. Much of it was because of Thea, of course. He wanted to be the person she saw in him, and that person would never assassinate his political opponents. But it was also the rest of them: the way Mercer was ruthless but had clear ethical boundaries he would never cross, the way Sorcha slowly worked to conquer a system that rejected her through sheer hard work and good will, no matter how many times it stung her. Even the way every strategy Cyril devised or suggested in class relied on the same fundamental premise:
Protect each other, and don't leave anyone behind.
How much would it be worth, if he won at the expense of being the kind of man who could not uphold the right principles? The principles he hoped the entire world could be brought to live by? Perhaps he'd become a foolish idealist at some point this year, but... he was, in a strange way, happier than he'd ever been as a downhearted cynic. And he felt more sure. That had to count for something.
“I don't know how much I can help," Cyril admitted softly. “Matters of countries, and rulership... I don't really know anything about those. But—if it helps, I think you always will have the nine most capable people you know. Not right next door, but—we won't vanish from your life just because we're farther away. You can still call on us, for what that's worth. And... I think you have all you need to be successful. You're clever, Vridel, very much so, and you've come a long way. And you've got something to live for. I think when it's all said and done, you'll be fine."
The Professor wasn't the flattering type—quite the opposite. He was often blunt in his honesty, even when the truth was a bit ugly. So Vridel knew he meant that, and somehow...
Somehow it was exactly what he'd needed to hear in this moment. Perhaps because it came from him.
“Thanks, Cyril."
The other man nodded. “Write me sometimes, okay?"
Vridel chuckled at that. “Oh you won't get rid of me that easily. I'm sure I'll be wanting plenty of tactical and strategic advice from here on out."
A couple of people entered the practice ring, next, and from the voices, Vridel knew it to be Amalthea and Mercer.
“Ha! I won, Mercer! Now you have to eat nothing but fruits for the rest of the month!" Amalthea stated, grinning from ear to ear as Mercer pouted in her direction. From the looks of it, they had been racing to the training grounds and had placed a bet of some sorts. Amalthea was clearly the winner, if the triumphant look on her face was anything to go by.
“Yeah, well you cheated," Mercer huffed slightly as he glanced at Vridel. “You have a cheater in your midst," he stated, pointing towards Thea who merely furrowed her brows at him.
“You're just a sore loser, Mercer von Riegan. Now hush and take it like a man!" she stated, pointing a finger at him. Mercer couldn't hold back his amusement and began laughing to the point that he almost doubled over.
“I can't, Thea. I'm a delicate flower."
“Mercer, how did you lose? She has short legs and wears armor everywhere. Did you forget how to run or something?" Vridel arched an eyebrow, shorting softly with amusement. Of course, when Sorcha appeared a few moments later, he had to wonder if perhaps his friend hadn't gotten distracted.
“Hey guys," she said, rolling out her shoulders and moving into a few pre-spar stretches. “Crest practice today, huh?"
He thought she sounded a little nervous, but then he didn't blame her for that. Sorcha had never used hers, that he knew of. It was something of a sensitive spot for her, he had to imagine, considering how vital it was to the history of her bloodline and country.
Thea pursed her lips in Vridel's direction as Mercer tried to catch his breath. “You insult me by saying I'm not fast, Vridel von Hresvelg." The smile on her face, though, suggested that she wasn't at all, mad at him. Mercer rolled his eyes softly, though, and took a deep breath.
“I got distracted by someone," he replied, his eyes narrowing in mischief towards Sorcha. He arched a brow in her direction, before chuckling lightly. “And yes, we are here for Crest practice since some of us don't exactly have training partners," he put emphasis on the last word as his eyes slid towards Cyril before going back to Vridel.
“It's not our fault we decided to actually practice in pairs, you know," Thea stated, arching a brow in Mercer's direction before shaking her head. She glanced around and pursed her lips. “Usually I'm the one who's late; where's Senka?" she stated, glancing towards Sorcha as if she'd know. It was Mercer who answered, though.
“She probably got distracted by something. I'm sure she'll be here in a few minutes," he stated, shrugging his shoulders lightly. Thea made a slight 'oh' with her mouth and smiled. “We can get started without her, though, since she's had a bit more practice than most of us."
Cyril looked a little troubled by this; it definitely wasn't like her to be late. “I'm going to check around just in case," he murmured. “Vridel, can you get everyone started?"
He nodded a little. “Sure." When Cyril had moved out of the ring at a slow jog, he turned to the others. “All right, so Thea and I can reliably use our Crests at will; what about you two?"
“Pretty sure I've never used it in my life," Sorcha admitted. “I don't even have the first clue how."
“Eh, I'm still having a bit of trouble using mine," Mercer replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “I can activate it sometimes, but not all the time. It's a lot better than it used to be," he continued, pushing a sigh through his nose. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking it out a bit before he dropped it to his side.
“It usually helps when I'm thinking about something other than trying to kill someone, if you know what I mean," he added.
Vridel blinked. “I don't think I do. Is there something else in particular it helps to think about?" He knew of course that Thea's Crest was tied to healing and so obviously didn't activate in the case of hostile intent, but... Mercer's was more like his or Sorcha's, and should work accordingly.
Mercer sighed and shook his head. “As far as I know about my Crest, it allows me to see things clearer and sharper than most people, which in point, allows me to hit targets with uncanny accuracy," he began, pursing his lips together. “You all know how I feel about needlessly killing someone, however; I find that it activates a lot easier when I'm focused on keeping someone alive."
“During most of our missions, my focus is making sure everyone lives. If I see someone trying to ambush one of our friends, or trying to sneak attack someone, my Crest seems to activate a lot easier, hence why it's easier to activate if I'm thinking about something else."
Ah, that made more sense. “Once you've mastered it, what you do or don't intend to do won't matter much," Vridel noted. “It will be just as easy to do one way or another. But if you know that much, then you've got a good place to start. For me it mostly came down to repeating it so many times I learned the feel and could reproduce it at any moment."
By way of demonstration, he activated the Crest of Seiros, the silver-white outline appearing on his brow. It seemed to ripple the air around him, charging it with a live, almost crackling potential, but it was nothing so disruptive as the first time Sen had used hers—it was fully under his control, after all. “Obviously I don't intend to take a swing at any of you, for protection or otherwise, but... there it is." He shrugged, keeping it active.
“Sometimes one Crest activating can sort of... help draw another out, so I'll keep this. Grab a practice weapon and I guess we'll see what we can do."
Sorcha nodded, rolling up her sleeves and taking a lance down from the rack of practice weapons. “I'm pretty sure mine could work with a bow, but I've only ever seen it with a lance so I guess I'd better start there."
Mercer shrugged his shoulders and grabbed one of the practice bows and quivers. “I guess I can have fun shooting arrows at you all day," Mercer stated, grinning lightly before glancing towards Thea. “Are you going to let your partner practice by himself, Thea?" he stated, causing her to purse her lips together. She shook her head, though.
“Nope, but my Crest isn't as inclined for battle as yours or his is. I won't be of much help, but if what he says is true," she stated, sliding her eyes towards Vridel, “then I can at least keep mine activated as we spar. I don't mind." The smile on her face suggested that she did not, infact, mind.
“Well, only if you're sure," Mercer replied as he shifted the bow from his right hand to his left.
Vridel grinned. “Then we can two-on-two it. Try not to lose to us too quickly."
Hopping into the ring, he waited for the others to do the same before lighting a spell, undercharging it so it wouldn't do any major damage to anyone. He hurled it for Sorcha, who rolled smoothly out of the way, coming up out of it to lunge for Thea; clearly she intended to occupy the melee half of the other team.
Mercer didn't seem to mind as he quickly notched an arrow to his bow, and aimed it for Vridel. Thea, on the other hand, used the practice axe in her hand to block the tip of the lance and twisted out of its reach before moving towards Sorcha, axe raised and aiming for her shoulder. Mercer's arrow missed, though, as he clicked his tongue in disappointment. He dodged another one of Vridel's spells, but didn't seem at all interested in letting his arrows fly. Instead, he seemed to be watching Vridel's movements, as if gauging them in order to react properly.
Thea seemed to be doing a little better on her end, holding up against Sorcha's lance by occasionally deflecting it, or twisting out of the way. Unfortunately, though, that meant that she couldn't get too close in with her practice axe, and it wasn't until one of Mercer's arrows let loose in her direction that the faint glow of his Crest made its appearance on his wrist. It seemed he intended to protect Sorcha for a moment. The arrow hit Thea's arm, causing her to momentarily stop in her swing.
“Good!" Vridel said, genuinely excited. “Now remember how that feels, and keep it active as long as you can." That was the real trick to it, honestly—as long as a person could get over that first initial hurdle and remember how it felt, the rest was comparatively simple.
Sorcha, on the other hand, just looked frustrated. Vridel suspected but couldn't know for sure that it likely really did take aggression to activate the Crest of Blaiddyd. It was called the Grim Dragon's Crest in the legend, after all. They'd probably have to provoke her, in a way that even ordinary battle usually didn't.
That was it.
“Thea—go for Mercer," Vridel said. All she had to do was keep him busy and keep the pressure on him so Vridel could prepare a much stronger blow. If it worked, it might actually knock him out—but he was sort of counting on it not working.
Thea nodded her head as she switched targets. Mercer, who seemed to anticipate her movement, nocked an arrow as quickly as he could and aimed it for her. She brought up the axe to block it, watching as the arrow hit the flat part of her axe, and continued making her way towards him. It looked more like she was chasing him than anything, probably because Mercer was trying to keep his distance in order to get a better fix on her. But she seemed to be doing just as Vridel told her. She was going after Mercer and keeping his attention on her, never mind that Sorcha was still there.
“Mercer von Riegan, stop fleeing!" she shouted at him, causing Mercer to snort softly. Even if their spar was, for all intents and purposes, serious, they at least seemed to be getting the hang of their Crests.
“No can do, Thea. That's the whole point of being an archer, is keeping my distance so I can do this!" he stated, fitting another arrow into his bow and aiming for her shoulder.
By this point, Vridel had charged up the spell, fending Sorcha off with the sword in his free hand. He let a little flicker of fire bleed into it, just to threaten more damage than he really intended to do.
“Is that all you've got, Sorcha?" he drawled, almost lazily lobbing the spell towards Mercer.
The only warning he got was a burst of light, and then suddenly there was a lance a hairsbreadth from his nose. He actually felt a lock of his hair fall, fluttering past his shoulders and towards the ground. The spell, somehow, had guttered out; it seemed the lance had passed through it fast enough that it actually lost its integrity. He didn't know when it had happened, but his other hand was completely empty. The sword clattered to the ground a moment later.
Vridel blinked at the lance, following the shaft of it down towards his stepsister, who was regarding him with wide, almost startled blue eyes. The inside of her right forearm bore an ice-blue rune, spiky where so many Crests were smooth.
“Vivi? Are you okay? You were kind of... really slow there for a second."
Mercer, however, seemed to find it absolutely hilarious, and was currently doubled over with laughter. Amalthea had abandoned him and jogged up to Vridel and Sorcha, looking curiously at Sorcha with a bright smile.
“That was really cool, Sorcha! It looks like your Crest makes you incredibly fast. I didn't even see you move!" Thea exclaimed as Mercer walked up to the three of them. He was grinning from ear to ear as he arched a brow at Sorcha.
“So... I wonder what else it makes you fast with," he stated, arching his brow in a suggestive way, causing Thea to smack him in the shoulder.
“Mercer von Riegan you hush your stupid fish face and congratulate her properly!" she stated, pursing her lips at him. His smile turned sly as he glanced down at Sorcha.
“Well you heard the lady, how should I properly congratulate you?"
Sorcha narrowed her eyes, a slight flush rising to her face. “Wouldn't being too fast be more of a concern for you than me, lord fish-face?" she replied, tilting her head at him.
Vridel snickered.
“As for proper congratulations... I don't really need any. It wasn't a contest, after all. And now we've all done it, so maybe we just show the Professor and Sen when they reappear and then all go eat?"
“Speaking of," Vridel murmured. “Where are they?"
Mercer snickered softly as he shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows. Maybe they got distracted by something," he stated. Amalthea rolled her eyes, however; a light huffing sound caught her attention.
“You would like that, wouldn't you, Mercer?" Senka stated as she came into view with Cyril. “I apologize for the tardiness. I... got caught up by something," she stated, her eyes narrowing softly as Mercer shook his head.
“No worries, Sen. You and Teach just missed Sor and I activating our Crest, is all."
“Oh? Well I'm sure Sorcha did wonderfully."
“And what about me? No praise for me, Sen?" Mercer whined. Senka regarded him with a flat stare, though.
“No."
“Ouch, Sen. That hurts."
“You're a delicate flower, remember, Merc?" Thea supplied, giggling lightly.
“And now you've corrupted Thea."
“She has not," Vridel asserted. “Corrupting Thea is my job, and I'm quite good at it."
Sorcha laughed.
And somehow he figured that for all the uncertainty of the future, the present was too excellent to regret.