[SE] [Training] you need to lighten up

Deimos

With no new information about Ru’s potential location within the Grounds, Deimos had gone home, committed to the rest of his duties and family life, before taking a different excursion within the following week. Given the Valkyrie’s past proclivities, the chance she’d be within these quarters yielded just as much as so many others; hidden paths, furtive banks, twists and turns amidst the specious depths.

Making it to the Eyes of Vi had been trying on its own, but by the time he’d wandered into its midst of pools and vistas, the same issues hailing across many regions became quite evident. Portions of infernos blazed, and he couldn’t help himself from either gazing into its maelstrom, or attempting to convert it into naught. Difficult, unfortunately, given his propensity to stare into the flame and wish it would grant more prestige, more ruin, more devastation.

But it wasn’t appropriate here. Sighing, he tucked Belial and Zuriel behind him, rumbling out loud for his own sake and theirs. "Let me see if I can stop some of it," ignoring the unicorn's glare, before striving to smother some of the inferno within his range; taking control, sizzling it down into embers and coal, smoke and suffocated fury, as it withered and died against the trees already blackened and bruised.

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

At first the wildfire will bend to Deimos's will, of course, reducing to a smoulder and a few sad embers. Before it snuffs out entirely, though - and likely coinciding with the exceedingly powerful hybrid releasing his control over the element - it roars back to life again, forming a warbling and fiendish little grin before racing away to eat up some more of the dry twigs and grasses.

"Hallo, Deimos." Danta's grin matches that of the fire he'd tugged from the other man's grip, the Maverick perched in the bough of a tree a few feet above the Sword. It's no use asking what he's doing there in the Greatwood let alone in the Eyes of Vi - as a crow Danta tends to follow the thermals and the whims of his shift, and so here he is on a brief jaunt for the afternoon. And evidently, he's making it his bestest friend's problem.

"They are everywhere you know," he says of the fires, gesturing to a haze of smoke hanging in the air. "In the Grounds too. I think it's the season." And not at all because someone - you, Danta - keeps helping the fire along rather than snuffing it out.

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

Deimos

For half a moment, he watched the fire recede, then flare back to life; head tilting not unlike that of a confused canine, eyes narrowing slightly. While Belial sounded the alarm that another approached, namely Danta from above, Deimos’ head swung upwards, releasing a snort at the greeting. The explanation didn’t need to come through. “Danta,” he acknowledged with that brief sentiment of wonder; pondering how long the other had been there. “Mm. I have even seem some around the Crag.” Which ordinarily wouldn’t make much sense, given its lack of trees, or growth, but Caido had unfurled enough confusion over the years that he’d simply blinked away much of the chaos – standing within it instead.

Which led back to the Ancient, of course. “Been enjoying them?” Not accusatory, but briefly amused, as the peryton hooted his obnoxious greetings over the rumble of the Warden’s voice.

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"What's the Crag?" Danta wonders, wiggling around onto his belly so he can swing lithely down from the bough of the tree. He lands in some smouldering ashes that flare up briefly with the breeze he brings with him, and his fire continues to gobble at a nearby log, though it's still far too green on one side to really get anywhere. "Oh, very much so," he says of enjoying the fire, brushing cinders from his pant legs and straightening up properly.

"Longheat is always a favourite season for my kind, as you can imagine. It's even better to see all this fire, though. I suppose we have Tanau to thank for it?" And he does indeed intend to thank the seasonal deity for the heat and the flame, same as he would for Dygra. "How about you? Feeling hot?"

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

Deimos

Deimos kept himself from laughing, with great difficulty, as Danta began squirming down the tree. Instead, he strived for some manner of dignity (a great wonder why – he doubted the Ancient would care), tilting his head instead, gaze flickering back to the fire, as he explained. “A part of the Fangs that fell into the sea near Halo.” In other words, the Maverick wouldn’t have crossed it anytime recently.

As for the flames, he sighed, betwixt and between on his feelings surrounding it. Greatly attuned to its power, and wielding it often, he’d be betraying himself if he said he didn’t enjoy the flare, the infernos; but he couldn’t exactly warrant all the destruction. Perhaps they’d have to admit at some point there was necessity in snapping apart dry twigs and eating away at overgrown brush; if only so something could be there, anew and restored. “As long as it is not engulfing the Citadel, I do not mind it,” he grinned. Then a spark of an idea formed; machinations at the ready. “In fact, would you be willing to use it? I need to wield fire defensively for a quest.”

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Oooh, sounds destructive," Danta says approvingly. He likes the name of it too - Crag - the Maverick sounding it out in his mind and patting out a small flame from the bottom of his pant leg, then swinging his attention back to Deimos. "If it were all over the Citadel I would say we really do have problems," he agrees with a flash of fangs in a grin. He's been to Halo, albeit only briefly before quickly ducking inside to speak with the man now opposite him, but to say it had been cold and snowy is an understatement.

"Mm?" Following the other man's gaze to the flames, Danta's agreement is immediate. "Always," he purrs, nodding and shifting his stance to properly face the Sword. The fire dies down from where he's been encouraging it to eat at the undergrowth, swirling about him instead. "Defensively should be interesting. Lets do it." And - of course - without giving any further warning, Danta whips out a tendril of flame towards Deimos.

---

1/4 Danta whips out at Deimos with a lick of fire!

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

Deimos

Deimos could imagine the Grounds presently surrounded by molten flames; things that, years before, would’ve jeopardized an entire Ascended community. Implored with amusement now, since battling these infernos were, at present, not worth the efforts, he indulged with a tilt of his head. “Fair,” he mentioned, with that hint of a grin again, as the bait was taken and snared with the expected enthusiasm.

With no warning, save for his rapt acceptance, the Sword would admit he wasn’t quite ready for the whip of fire. It took half a second for his incantations to engage, barely missing portions of his face as he ducked away from the maelstrom, and took it back within his own control. Taking a deep breath, his Mastered Fire incantations tugged the blaze into his command – and he loosened them into a makeshift shield around himself, as if intending to absorb Danta’s impending and future blows.

--

1/4 Deimos barely dodges and uses the fire to make a shield

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

Danta's eyes widen with clear approval as Deimos effortlessly snatches the firewhip he'd lanced out, warping it into a shield, and he lets out a low whistle as he slowly starts to circle around the Sword, like a big cat prowling and looking for weak spots. "How'd you get so good with magic anyway?" he asks conversationally, more flames kicking up around him to weave into his control.

"It almost seems rude for you to be better at handling fire than someone born of it. You sure you haven't got an Ancient grandma or something?" Laughing warmly, Danta - of course - follows up the casual question with an eruption of flame. This he tries to aim over Deimos's head to rain down upon him, trying to get around his shield rather than through it.

---

2/4 Danta tries to rain fire overhead to get around the shield!

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

Deimos

He snorted from behind the makeshift shield of flares and tempests. “Helps to be born with magic. My father was also a fire user.” His running theory had always been something constructed in lineage; though perhaps it remained to be seen in his own – seeing as how Erebos had snagged at water, both something he and Evie had. Deimos’s mother had held the same. And though he doubted Dantalion would be the type to want to hear the following notions, he shrugged. “And lots of practice.” An almost daily ritual and routine; between battle practice and incantation use; the Sword had always been dedicated to ensuring his strength and prowess were capable feats. He watched as the Ancient prowled; a brow arched, only shifting his movements in increments, not wanting to be the predictable figure.

He did permit a round, a bark, of laughter at the inquiry though. If it was meant to distract him, he wasn’t much deterred – glancing upwards to watch the eruption of flame aimed precisely over him. Grinning, he rapidly absorbed the shot embers, so they added to the construction of the shield, now neatly extending even further. “I am certain – I do not come from Caido anyway.” In neither Isilme nor Helovia, there’d been no semblances of such a race.

To challenge the Maverick though, he sent out a whip of flames of his own, though aimed it towards the Ancient’s feet.

2/4 Deimos absorbs the rain of fire into his shield, and then sends a fire whip towards Danta’s feet.

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Yes, that does tend to help," Danta agrees, watching with interest as Deimos absorbs his rain of fire and uses it to grow his shield, making it even more difficult for the Maverick to hassle him with his flames. He scrunches his nose - of course - at the idea of practice, pausing after making a full predatory circuit of the other man. "I practice," he says with a childish pout betrayed by the laughter in his eyes. "Just probably not in the same way you do."

Opting this time to attack via the environment rather than giving Deimos more ammo for his shield, the Maverick sets the dry grass alight around the Sword, directing the flames to race forward and towards his feet. It's just at the same time that Deimos lances out with his fire whip, and Danta finds himself hopping to the side with singed pants, laughing all the while.

"Ah, I'm not sure that matters - coming from Caido. It wouldn't surprise me if Dygra was everywhere in some form or another. You'd make a good Ancient either way," he says.

---

3/4 Danta (sort of) dodges the fire whip and directs flames to race through the dry grass towards Deimos!

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

Deimos

He snorted; imagining Danta’s version of practice was something akin to mauling and hunting (which to be fair, the Sword did that too). But then the Ancient was stalking again, and his brow remained firmly arched, waiting and watching for something to appear nearby, either striking his shield or some other blow from beyond.

He didn’t expect the grass near his feet to instantly be scorched, and he chuckled, side-stepping on a quick leap towards the right, dousing the incantations as they came close by and leaving the smoldering, burnt, decrepit ends where they lingered. His laugh was a booming bark, shaking his head at the matter, before flickering his own bout of fire over the Maverick’s head, intentionally striving to get him to move further back. Not so much a pattern of rain, but a downpour of an inferno; figuring the man would either absorb it or meander out of the way.

As for the response, he shrugged; he couldn’t claim to know enough about Dygra to ponder anything further on that regard; fully confident in his own scruples and choice of race affiliations. “But then I would not be able to make you nice jackets.”

--

3/4 Deimos barely dodges the grass set on fire, and tries to angle a downpour of fire over Dantalion’s head.

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Ah, that's true enough," Danta says with a waggle of his finger, as if nice jackets are more important than any gods-given talent or ancestral chaos Deimos might have. "Or bags that hold anything," he adds, just as the Sword sends a cascade of fire raining over his head. The Maverick, of course, does absolutely nothing against it, merely shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazes skyward. Some of the flames catch on his shirt or settle in his hair, smouldering without damage, and when the barrage is finished he grins towards Deimos.

"That was quite pleasant," he tells him, batting out a few tiny flames that are trying to eat away at his shirt. No sooner has he finished, though, he's charging directly towards the other man, intending to barrel directly through his fiery shield to try and tackle him over. Hilarious given their differences in body type, but who knows, maybe he'll get lucky!

---

4/4 Danta absorbs the fire raining overhead and then charges through Deimos's fire shield to try and tackle him!

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //

Deimos

The agreement and accord made him snort, but the way Dantalion simply absorbed the fire didn’t surprise him in the least. And for all that was worth, and previous discussions aside, Deimos could only snag and control and take such elements; but never immerse himself fully into them. While the Ancients could inhabit and sink into the flames, the Sword was quite mortal in their perimeters – but still enjoyed the fringes, the edges.

Laughing and shaking his head, he had about half a moment to start snagging at something new, when Danta simply charged at him. His eyes widened for a fraction, before lunging in the opposite direction; feeling the charged air around him warp. On reflex, he tucked the fiery shield so it was nestled quite close to him, not that it would’ve mattered, but the action left him chuckling regardless. “Not sure what that would have yielded,” Deimos offered in response, wondering if he’d stood his ground, if the Maverick would’ve merely bounced off and fallen into the earth. “That was likely enough though. Thank you for the assistance. Probably been the most amusing training in a while.”

4/4 Deimos lunges out of the way and brings his fire shield in closer on reflex.

what does it mean to look upon a ruin
we are boneless. we are boiling hot blood.

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Oh fuck--" Already laughing as Deimos simply isn't in the space he'd occupied a second ago, Danta manages - just - to turn a dead fall into a clumsy tuck, and he tumbles to a stop in the soft (and charred) grasses to grin up at the other man. "I just thought I would try something new," he says, shrugging amicably. "Not often you get to fight against someone who can just walk through your fire shield." Hopefully not often, anyway.

Picking himself back up off the ground and brushing ash and flower petals from his clothes, he offers a roguish little bow as the Sword calls their bout amusing, Danta's tail flicking at his heels. "I'm always available if you're ever in need of further amusement," he declares. "For now, though, if you don't mind but I've got a wildfire to encourage."

Excusing himself from Deimos, the Maverick picks up where the other man had been trying to reduce the flames, but of course Danta's actions are more chaotic by far. Not enough to cause true damage - probably - but enough that Deimos will likely see the smoke hanging in the air long after he's out of sight.

~FIN

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //