Lessa

More than anything, Lessa wanted to go. She wanted to give Eous her head, dig in her heels, and urge the mare into that gallop she knew she was capable of. She wanted to feel the thrill of it, as close to flying as she had ever been in her life. More, she wanted to close the distance to Oliver in as little time as possible. Already, her mind was conjuring the worst case scenarios, painting them in vivid color and detail across her vision whenever she closed her eyes. So she kept them open, choosing instead to focus on the path ahead, and the comforting rock of the horse beneath her. She wanted

Lessa's anger roared out of her, bellowing like an animal as the vines plucked Jomei off the ground. Her blood felt too hot in her veins, and a sudden need to claw at her skin overcame her. What was this feeling so sudden and new? Was it simply the frustration from the quest itself, and their terrible luck? Was it disappointment, and guilt from her own shortcomings? Was it panic, watching her friend get hauled into the air by the vines? Or was it just sheer, unadulterated fury at the goddamn fucking piece of shit Guardian? In the end, it didn't really matter. Roaring, Lessa threw her

Thread Summary 10,010 words. Both Players at T3. (Sorry, this thread was started before we included stat blocks.) (10010 / 10) * 3 * 0.7 Baldur 2,102 EXP & 200 col Lessa 2,102 EXP & 200 col

He drinks a whiskey drink, he drinks a vodka drink, he drinks a lager drink, he drinks a cider drink. He sings the songs that remind him of the good times. Ḥ̦̩͒̑̄ͥͩ͜e̵̲ͥ̈́̍͜_̵͓͇̺̬̤̥̽ͫ̅͐̄͒̈́ͣ́̇̔ͯ̄͢͞ s̴̸̷̶̛̼̺̙̗̤̯̟͇̮͖̟̱̟͕̬ͮ͗ͫ̔̓ͨͣ̈̄̌̆̽͐ͭ̀̔̑ͦͪͩ̆̀̿͆ͫ̚i̢͉͖͚̻̺̙͕͚͍̾͋̃͆͌̿n͑̿g̷͇͖̣̰͍̹̠͖͇͋̓ͨͮ̂̐̽̿̐̓ͧ͛ͥ_̫̗ͥ͡s̷̷̨̡̧̢͚̘̻̦͕̻̼̫̰͉̞̊ͫ̾̅ͪͣ́̃̈́̓ͪ̿͛̈́ͧ̃̀̀̐ͣ͘͠͝͡͞ t̷͚̼̻̙̭̰̻̣͚̬̘̅̔̄͂́̈̀ͬ̿ͬͣͣͯ͜͟h̶̥̑͑̐͢ę̷̛̠̼̦̪̰͙̼̪̫͂̿̿̔̄̌ͭͧ̾̀̎̒͗ͥͫ͗́̓̉ͥ̚̚͠͠ s̺͇̹̝̽̆ͭ̌̑͟_̧̮̥̬͉̀͗̿ơ̸̵̴̤̗̳̪̙̭͇̹̱̲̙̘̣ͯ͑̿̑̅̔̓̊̌̑́ͦ͑͘̚̚͟͟͠n̹̰̠͉̲̜͇̉̓̄̈̇̑ͪͥ͘͞ģ̰̻͎̣͔̖̰͚̇̒́ͯ̎͒̐̍͟͞ͅs͎̉ͬ̚͞ͅ ṭ͖͍̭̲̜͍̞̪͈͗̍͒͐ͨͭ͒ͮ́͆̋̄̚͜͞h̢̦̤͈̳͕̤̓̉̎͒ͧ́̎ͯͭ̓̚͢at̷̷ r̈͒̏em̵̶̮̫̜̪̝̙̟ͤ̅̃͊ͬ̀ͧ̆̅͢

Lessa swept her arm across her midsection, then hinged forward at the waist, presenting Jomei with her most regal bow. She didn't straighten before speaking, instead peering up at the man from beneath her blonde bangs. "For you, I shall fight a Grove Guardian any day." Only then did she stand up again, plucking the flower from his pinched fingers with a flourish, and sending it shattering into shimmering fractals. "One left," she announced, though she highly doubted Jomei had lost count. They were so close to the end, and she could practically taste the victory, as sweet as the grape pop

At Baldur's Star Wars reference, Lessa choked out a laugh. "Ah yes," she answered, nodding sagely. "You and Yoda do have so much in common." She fell silent again as Baldur began addressing Acanthus' question. While the King in Yellow rang a distant bell in her memory, there was no way that she could confidently answer the query herself. That was unusual for Lessa, self-proclaimed know-it-all, but she was grateful yet-again to have Baldur at her side. This time, she appreciated his ability to fill in her gaps. "I know next to nothing about Lovecraft," she mused aloud once the samurai

It was such a pleasure watching Eruda's entire demeanor change as she spoke of Raidou. Everything about her seemed to soften somehow, becoming more pliable, more vulnerable. It was a good look on her, and one that Lessa could recognize anywhere. She'd felt it herself more than once. Her own expression softened as she said, "I can tell he means a lot to you. It's really, really nice that you have someone so important to you in Aincrad. Not everyone can say the same." She tilted her head conspiratorially, then added, "Does he know how you feel?" She paused to reach back in her memories, grasping

After years trapped within Aincrad, Lessa considered herself strong enough to counter many attacks. She could, and had, withstand a swipe from a Floor Boss. She could hold her own in a duel, even with Players she considered to be of superior skill. She could stand firm against twisted cults, mistreatment of Aincrad's youngest, and injustices of all types. She could weather emotional manipulation, loss, and disappointment, again and again and again. But one thing she proved powerless against? Baldur's smile. His expression of pure, unbridled joy coaxed a smile of her own, even though

Lessa guardian of aincrad As Callisto exploded into shimmering fragments, Lessa felt Jomei's eyes on her. She shifted to meet his gaze, and expected to see joy or relief inside them. Instead, it was a strange sort of panic that swam in the green depths. Her grin dropped even faster than the massive bear had. She took a step toward him, hand outstretched and lips parted, both to offer comfort. When the tall, charismatic, stalwart tank crouched, wrapping his arms around his legs, she hesitated. That wasn't the body language of a man

Lessa stood behind her party, her gaze flitting between the five health bars that hovered above their heads. All green. All full. All safe. There was satisfaction in that - a job well-done. She had succeeded in keeping her team alive, as was the task given to her when she accepted the role of support. But more than that, there was a comfort in those green bars. A knowing that her friends, the people she loved most, were okay. That they'd all walk out of there together. That the future still held too many unknowns, but this day, this fight, they would see the end of. No one would die today. Tom

"What." She said nothing more as Lessa watched Freyd return from the dead, though her lips moved soundlessly on words she couldn't find. Shock had melded into such a powerful grief that this sudden pivot made her a bit nauseous. Apparently unable to settle on an appropriate emotion, her body chose to shut down completely, her arms limp, her blue eyes wide and glazed over. If everyone quieted down, they could likely hear the dialup tone drifting from somewhere between Lessa's ears. It was Jomei's shout that she latched onto first, borrowing his courage just as readily as she might hav

Lessa turned to follow Bahr’s finger, and the color seeped from her face once more. “Oh my god,” she breathed, but the sound was lost to the chorus of raised voices surrounding her. Grief, rage, and a pain she could feel in her head and in her heart filled the space. When Lessa went to draw a breath, she couldn’t seem to fill her lungs. Cord’s advice found her first, but Lessa couldn’t blame Jomei when he turned to address the party. Though his words were rigid, the emotion in his eyes burned hot and wild. She couldn’t blame him for that, either. She hadn’t known Freyd well. In fact,

Approved.

In a tangle of limbs and fabric, Lessa flung herself at Bahr and Jomei as the pair moved away from Callisto. Her cheeks, normally flushed a pretty pink, were sheet white. “You’re okay,” she managed, trembling fingers digging into the sleeves of both men as if to tether herself to them. “You’re both okay. Okay. Good.” She laughed out a hard breath, as if to shrug off the fear that squeezed her heart, but it came out borderline manic. Drawing back a step, her eyes swept over both men. Jomei’s healthbar had dipped lower than she’d liked, but otherwise, they seemed to have made it out unscath

A curse fell from chapped lips as Lessa watched Callisto rake at Jomei’s midsection once more. A quick glance at his health bar revealed he didn’t take too much damage - certainly not as much as he might have without his new tank build. But that didn’t stop the wince as she watched her friend stumble backward. "Be careful!" she called out for what felt like the millionth time since the fight began. She had to trust that he’d be fine - he was their tank, afterall. But that didn’t keep her from worrying. Her attention was quickly drawn away as vines thrust upward from the ground. As visions

Lessa let her head roll back, eyes closing as the music once more washed over her. It crashed like wave, sound and emotion drenching her as it pressed against and through. Despite everything - the injuries, the stakes, the smell of death hanging heavy in the air - the woman paused to appreciate the magic of the bow skipping along the strings. “Goddamn,” she finally moaned, her soul returning to her body through a force of will. “You are really good at that, Jom.” The notes hummed through her, buzzing like electricity along a hot wire. She felt a sudden need to just go. To act, to deal dam

Lessa gasped as Jomei stumbled, and her heart leapt into her throat. The sight made her sick, but apparently not as sick as he was. She winced as her tank lost his lunch, and her desire to help him warred with her need to give him space. She knew from experience that having someone invade your space while you were hurling wasn’t exactly pleasant. What was she going to do, hold his hair? Instead, she called up her HUD, and drew out another antidote. Those around her were topping off their protection against the vile creature’s influence, so she might as well do the same. She consumed it in

"Shit," was all Lessa could manage as Callisto raked his claws across the party. Then her vision suddenly blurred, her head ringing so violently that she nearly fell to her knees. As it was, her empty hand slapped over her ear, her shoulders scrunching in an attempt to shield the other. Fortunately, as soon as the madness had come, it disappeared. The antidote, it seemed, was doing its job. She staggered for a moment, struggling to get her (hah) bearings. Once she had, her first priority was checking on the status of her people. Each had health bars skirting the fine line between green and yel

The Guardian breathed a sigh of relief as her party escaped the first attack unscathed. The creature clearly possessed enormous strength and power, and the Frontliners would do well to respect it. So to avoid taking damage in the first rotation was a true miracle. Lessa flashed Jomei a grin, then winked, and said, "Guess you're not half bad at this tanking gig, huh?" Her gaze flicked across the other parties, curious how well they fared, and her blood froze in her veins. She watched Callisto give Alkor's body a shake, her oldest friend clamped tightly between the beast's rotting jaws. Les

The mass streamed through the door like water through a spillway, and as Lessa watched, the crowd grew smaller. She watched NIGHT, her guildmate and good friend, as she led the way into the room. Baldur followed, his long hair swinging as he turned away from her. Then there was Alkor, walking alongside Oscar, and the woman felt her palms growing damp within her gauntlets. Once upon a time, Alkor had walked into a boss fight much like this one, and hadn’t walked out again. Lessa pursed her lips, drawing a long, deep breath, before slowly exhaling again. She turned to her party. Jomei, his

In a tangle of limbs, hair, and cloth, Lessa burst into the shop. She nearly tripped over a pretty display just inside the doorway, her gauntlet clanging against her heavy breastplate as she attempted to right herself. "Gahhh," she managed, the sound somehow even louder than her armor and her general clumsiness. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for tripping, and for being so loud, and-" Helplessly, Lessa gestured toward the way she'd just come. "And for just everything. I'm normally more put together, I swear. It's just that I have literally one hour left before I'm supposed to fight a floor boss, and

Lessa guardian of aincrad Good luck on the boss fight today. You got this! Lessa stared down at the words, her expression vacant even as pleasure and pain warred just beneath the surface. It had been months since she had heard from her good friend, and much longer since she had seen him. When was the last time that he had taken interest in the Frontlines, let alone enough to send her a message about it? His attention, and his well-wishes, shone like warm sunlight. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to permeate the canopy of

"It's so pretty in here," Lessa breathed, gaze sweeping over the entirety of the shop. Though the clock was ticking, and she really shouldn't be wasting any time sight-seeing, the place was too nice to not appreciate. Natural sunlight spilled through the windows, splashing across the cozy furniture and well-worn rug. The urge to simply curl up in one of those armchairs and take a nap consumed her, and if she were a cat, she absolutely would have. Unfortunately, she was not a cat. She was a Frontliner, and she had very little time left to prepare before the big floor boss fight. If you had

Accepting with love. Thank you for everything, NIGHT. <3