Lessa

In the romcoms Alyssa had inhaled before Aincrad, the gentleman was always offering his jacket to his date at the faintest sign of a shiver. It was romantic, really, that a man might give up his own comfort to take care of someone he cared about. In actuality? Well, it kind of just frustrated Lessa. Granted, these were different circumstances. Most of those movies hadn't featured gale force winds, torrential downpours, or creatures that had crawled straight from the bowels of Hell itself. Come to think of it, none of them had. Also, actuality didn't feature Matthew McConaughey or Hugh Grant, s

Lessa concedes!

She kept her arm around Jomei until he was standing upright again, and even then, let it linger a bit longer than perhaps was necessary. When she withdrew, stepping away to give the man his space, she gave a small nod. "Sure, alright, we'll stay." She hoped her voice held more conviction than her words. In truth, the idea of running away to greener pastures was incredibly appealing. She'd never considered herself a scary-cat, and she and Jomei had faced some pretty horrifying things together. But something about the twenty-ninth floor made her feel indescribably uneasy, and a warm drink by a c

Tavern Closed for Private Party "You know," Lessa began, studying the sign with her hands planted on her hips, "in the entire time I've known Alexander, I can't think of another time that he's closed the place down. He must have really taken to my post-tournament party idea. Orrrr he's going to charge me an outrageous rental fee." With a small whistle, Lessa tipped her head back to take in the White Rabbit's size. The multi-story building, with its tavern and adjoining inn, sat perched on one of the fourth floor's many snowy mountainsides. It was as enormous as it was beautiful, and in th

"That's my girl." Three little words, but they ripped through her with the force of a nuclear bomb. She finished the string of attacks she’d already lined up, letting momentum and muscle memory carry her through the familiar steps, but she felt the fight draining from her like water through a sieve. She didn’t want it. And as hard as she tried, as much bravado as she could muster, she simply couldn’t convince herself otherwise. A cold wind whipped between them, sending their cloaks flapping wildly, and setting a fine layer of snowflakes spiraling around their ankles. Her hair tumble

Lessa loosed a small hum of pleasure, aware of lazy stroking of his fingers against her armor. Though she couldn’t feel the touch of his skin through the layers of metal and leather, the simple fact that he was doing it at all warmed her to her core. She tore her eyes from his to watch his knuckles trail over her vambrace, strangely entranced and foolishly delighted by the sight. If only they could stay that way just a bit longer. As if reading her mind, Jomei’s words snapped Lessa’s gaze back to his. Her smile wavered, regret tugging at its edges until she sighed softly. “I’m not doing a

The way he stared up at her sent her already racing heart into overdrive. Suddenly more aware of the cold than ever, spikes of anxiety shot through her, dealing more damage than his weapon ever could have. Oh god. Oh god, I screwed up. Her breathing grew shallower, each exhale rasping past her chapped lips to hang on the frigid air in the narrow space between them. How could she have let herself act so rashly? How could she have misread him so badly? Or had she simply seen what it was she wanted to see there? Had she imagined it all? A million excuses raced through her mind, but they jumb

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ “I'm still disappointed I never got the opportunity to ask you to dance before the party got crashed." The statement was delivered with so much tenderness, and when her eyes found his, the wistful expression he wore sucked the air from her lungs. “Yeah,” she barely managed to whisper before pausing to draw a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m disappointed, too. I would have really liked that.” Had she known, that night on la Duchesse Sincère, that he’d wanted to dance with her? As friends, of course - he’d made that glaringly obvious in his invitation. At the time, she’d found it c

"No, not at all," she answered firmly, her tone slamming the door on any possible arguments. Despite the electricity that still hummed faintly between them, she reached out to place a strong, reassuring hand on his arm. "I don't fault you, okay?" She refused to continue speaking until he met and held her gaze, and she could see for herself that he believed her. Not that the Beast was an open book or anything, and it was possible some doubts or apprehensions lingered. But he seemed to relax a bit, allowing her to do the same. "If anything, I should be thanking you," she continued, withdraw

PH

With a high-pitched shriek, mixed parts alarm and childish glee, Lessa threw up both arms to block her face. The snow slammed into her crossed bracers like a wave against rocks, sending spray splattering across her exposed skin. She made to wipe it away, then remembered her gauntlets. Instead, she did her best to shake the droplets away in a way reminiscent of a wet dog. Only then did she notice the crimson gash in her side, and the sizeable chunk carved out of her health bar. She scowled at him, glaring out from under eyelashes heavy with snow crystals. The expression, of course, was absurdly

The contrast between his emerald cloak and the white snow was so stark, and so perfect in a way that she struggled to articulate. It seemed to accentuate his every action, and draw every eye as he drew his blade. Or, at least, it drew hers. And maybe it was just the Spartan in her - a life-long Michigan State University fan, she'd grown up bleeding green and white. But damn, if he didn't make it work for him. And as embarrassing as it was to admit, she was so intrigued by the way that his cloak billowed on the blast of frigid air that she nearly missed his initial attack. Her heavy armor,

꧁༺Lessa༻꧂ Lessa | HP: 200/200 | EN: 59/43 | DMG: 10 | MIT: 46 | ACC: 2 | THORNS: 18 | BH: 6 | HB: 8 | REC: 2 | HLY: 2 | Frost.A: 2 | Frost.T: 2 (4/2) | VULN: 16 | Warm | P.Soul Lessa, Guardian of Aincrad True Tier: 10 Level: 10 Paragon Level: 0 HP: 200/200 EN: 43/43 Stats: Damage: 10 Mitigat

Silence fell then, the only things between them a hair's breadth and the words that still hung in the air. The words that still echoed in her ears. Stunning. Responsive. Simple. What feels good. Lessa let her eyes slip closed as his warm breath whispered over her cool skin. They remained like that, teetering on the literal and metaphorical edge, for longer than she could have thought possible. From an outsider's perspective, they simply looked like two lovers lost in each other, bathed in moonlight, and alone in city filled with people. The scene was tranquil, but the war raging in

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