[PP-F11] A Dance of Blades (Lessa)

[Daeron 1]

It was the afternoon period of floor 11. Taft's sun had moved yet again, and things were looking fairly normal. The wind was at an optimal level, not to heavy or too light, but enough to give off a breeze that could help a player relax. The temperature was cooling as night was approaching, but it was still warm enough to be out. Christmas was within the air, and this would be a great time to go grinding. For a game that wants players to remain trapped in this world, it sure was being generous around Christmas time and allowing players to get a chance to climb the ranks.

Enjoying a stroll through the dusk of the floor. Daeron's hair brushed the air, like a hand, and his armor grinded against it's own parts as it was heavy metal with a gold coating on it. Daeron's blade was sheathed, and even though Daeron hadn't been able to be with true civilization for a long time, he didn't mind it. Curious however, he wanted to know what these newer towns were like. He hadn't any way to tell except for the little amounts he could see through the PK blocking gates of each town. By the means of this town, the buildings were made of a material called terra firma, and the streets were of stone, so unlike many floors, this one seemed to be one of the "nicer" ones. It's been a long time since he's had any contact with his friends too.

In fact, many of the people he once associated with seemed to have gone off the radar themselves, or they just helped the front lines. "Hmm" he said, as he put his index finger to his lips. "I wonder what the floor bosses have been like" he said out loud, but only loud enough to hear if someone were close enough from where he was standing, which happened to have been outside of the city limits, right by the wall. He sat there, relaxing as he had been working his way into getting to the front lines yet again. "I wonder how many more casualties we have suffered..." he thought to himself.

 

(Sorry if I'm really rusty. It's been too long haha)

[Lessa 1]

The bells. Her blue eyes slipped behind closed eyelids as she listened to the sound, which echoed loudly through the old stone streets. Sometimes, she wondered if the bells were the only consistent thing that Aincrad had to offer. Nothing else stayed the same. Not really. The floors were unchanging, she supposed, but the events that transpired there were always so unpredictable. The star-streaked fourth floor, and the memories of a near brush with death and falling in love. The second floor, with its long, bowing grasses and long hours spent... just... existing. Though the seasons did not change on those floors, their impact on the young woman did, constantly. The various scars on her mind and her heart that the previous year had etched still throbbed dully, yet she found some solace in the chiming of the bells overhead. Every four hours, no matter who was there, who was listening, or who was still alive. Time moved on. She was envious of that.

When the notes finally died away, and her eyes opened once more, Lessa was bathed in light. Like a kaleidoscope, the dying sunlight through the stained glass windows threw shapes of many vibrant colors across her and her surroundings. A patch of red, as fiery as the streaks in the evening sky, fell upon her shoulder. It mingled with the red of her blouse, shimmering along the edge of her armor, and setting her blonde hair ablaze. Gingerly, she lifted a gauntleted hand, and pressed a finger to the mark. The colors had changed, indicating a new path to be followed.

With the consistency of the bells came the chaos of the lights and the secrets they shared, but at the moment, that was what Lessa was searching for. After her unsuccessful grinding adventure with Calrex and Celes, the Guardian had dedicated much of her free time to honing her skills. She lacked knowledge and experience in so many areas, and she recognized that the only way to improve was to practice. This new mindset had led her to a new floor, one she had quickly taken a liking to. The new atmosphere brought about a new rejuvenation. Maybe that was the first step toward regaining that spark that she had lost so many months ago.

Following the column of red light, long strides carried the heavily clad woman to the gate of the city. A few paces further, and she drew her heavy claymore. Yet as she moved past the wall, movement in her peripheral vision caused her to freeze. A flash of orange, but that was all she needed. That tainted cursor, a dark mark that indicated a player killer. The scum of the earth, the woman sneered silently.

Edited December 9, 2015 by Lessa

[Daeron 1]

Daeron, who was relaxing in the dusk of the sky, had taken no more than a breath when he suddenly heard metal being clashed against one another. He knew that sound, and it wasn't a friendly one. It was the sound of a player drawing their weapon. Daeron's eyes widened, as he quickly rolled to prepare himself for combat. Daeron's hand was quick on the reaction timer to draw his own weapon and also to hold his golden shield up before his golden clad armor. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he asked confused at why they might be attacking him. Granted, he was a player killer still technically, even though he didn't commit the acts, doesn't mean he doesn't have the status, after all the orange cursor proves it.

"Listen, you don't know what you're doing buddy. I'm a front liner you see, and I serve a very important purpose to clearing this game. The name is Daeron, I'm not a player killer like you think I am. I promise you that. But if you still want to tussle, then let's go at it." He said taunting the other player that was now showing hostility before him with weapon in their hand. Was this it? Was this going to be a real fight happening right here right now? He hoped they came to their senses, but at this rate, the fight would go into action any second.

[Lessa 1]

The stranger began to babble on, as if she were the threat, and he were the one who had anything to fear. Had she not been preoccupied, she might have paused to appreciate the irony in the exchange. Who they hell do I think I am? Rich, coming from a player killer. And what about that attitude that he copped before he even knew who she was? Who felt it so necessary to announce his name and occupation that way?

But she did not think those thoughts. Instead, her mind was consumed by emotions that came so rapidly that she struggled to comprehend in the moment. First, recognition, a spark that he struck with the simple sound of his voice. Next, the heavy nostalgia that hit her like an oncoming freight train. It was flanked closely by relief for his wellbeing, anxiety at his presence, and curiosity as to his whereabouts the previous year. But each mingling emotion immediately warped into a sickening nausea as her mind finally made the realization. Daeron. A player killer.

The words flowed before she could stop them, and the voice did not sound like her own when she spoke. "Daeron. Sorry to see you've gone orange."

[Daeron 1]

Daeron was confused at what was happening. All she said was sorry for him going orange. "Lessa... I've been orange for a long time, you know that, it was like this since you've first met me. However, you know that I'm no threat. You know that I've only meant good." he said, taking two more steps towards the girl. He put away his weapon and his shield, and held out empty hands towards her, to show that he meant no harm, that he wasn't going to fight her. If she were going to kill him, then maybe something else might happen, but he had no intentions of fighting her for no reason. Daeron looked into her eyes, his orange, fiery eyes, locking with hers, trying to establish calamity between the two, to thin out the tension that had built within half of a second. "Lessa, you know me." he said simply as he took a third step towards her, now leaving maybe five steps between the two before he could possibly reach her. He was nervous, afraid at what was happening.

[Lessa 1]

Her chapped lips parted, but she struggled to find the words. Instead, she emitted a soft, breathy sound that sounded a bit questioning. Her brow furrowed as Lessa made sense of his words. Always been that way? Was he telling the truth? It had been a year since she had seen him. The months had been spent actively repressing all memories of... then. It was easier that way. Why dwell on the past, when she could focus on forging herself a new future? One driven not by the people around her, but by her own self-motivation. Her perseverance had picked up where her friends had left her.

Yet one of those friends stood before her now, slowly approaching her. She gazed back, wide-eyed, searching his gaze for the answers she could not seem to ask for. Was it true that he had always been a player killer? The fleeting memories that still lingered painted a picture of a charming young man. He had taken her ice skating once, that much she could remember. Why would she have gone ice skating with a player killer?

His equipment was gone now. Bare hands reached out to her, yet she could not bring herself to as much as sheath her own weapon. He had closed the distance between them in a matter of seconds. Her gaze dropped to the space between them. "Ah," she finally muttered. "I guess I didn't remember."

[Daeron 1]

Daeron slowly continued to approach her. "Listen to me please, I've always been that way." He told her once more. Finally, he got a slight response from Lessa- but not the one he was looking to hear from the blonde. Stepping closer and closer, he finally put his hand on her sword, slowly pushing it to the side, and stepping closer to her. He locked eyes with her once more, this time with their noses nearly touching. "It's me Daeron, the one whom had met you on the fourth floor almost a year ago... You're Lessa... the girl I had fallen in love with before." He said, lowering her weapon now.

He knew that was he was doing was just like playing with fire, except he knew that if he got burned this time things might get more heated than the fire itself. He was now in her face, nose to nose, he took the other unoccupied hand and cupped her cheek. He felt so confident he wasn't going to get hurt, even though deep down he knew that this could hurt worse than anything he had experienced before.

[Lessa 1]

His breath was warm on her face, only adding to the creeping crimson that spread across her cheeks. His closeness caused her throat to close, and she found it suddenly very difficult to draw in air. "I remember you," she managed to reply, taking a step back. His fingertips brushed along her cheek as she put more space between them. His declaration of love did not surprise her; he had not shied from making his feelings known all those months ago. And though his presence overloaded her senses, his words of love did not. She had doubted his intentions then, and time had done nothing to convince her. "I remember enough. I guess I just forgot some details." In one fluid, yet strong motion, her hand replaced his on the hilt of her claymore.

She would not tell him that it was good to see him, because that would be a lie. It was nothing that the other player should take personally, of course, as Lessa preferred to steer clear of anyone that she knew in a past life. So she settled with a simple "how have you been?"

[Daeron 1]

Finally, getting her to remember,  he allowed her to create space between the two. She returned her weapon at her side and her face was filled with bright pink color. "I've been alive least to say at that. I haven't really met anyone for a while as i had gone off the radar for several months. Lessa- When I said I love you, I didnt mean it like that. I was saying how I once had feelings for you. So you cam remember. It's been far too long since I've seen you in order to say something so naive."

Daeron kicked at the grass, clipping only a few blades. "Why do you try to avoid me? Or anyone for that matter? Youve changed so much, it's like you're a stranger to me once again." He asked her, now leaning against the wall of the town as a back support .