[Event] THE CHAMPION, UNBOUND - Printable Version

Tectus didn't really think that any of the gembound here would try to mess with Saran'zol's remains, but ah every day she is surprised by something new. Shrike trying to dart forward was quickly stopped by her large mass, looking at the gembound with surprise. Of course, her explanation made sense, and perhaps for anyone else she should allow it. She shouldn't have favorites, but she didn't think she would want to watch anyone even eating the remains of a friend.

It just felt...wrong.

"Perhaps," she grumbled, although she wasn't sure if it worked like that. She didn't know how Saran'zol's energy functioned. "I doubt you would get the energy you desire. But if you are intent on it, I won't stop you from having a bit." What an odd thing, to have to reason with a gembound about how much of her dead friend it could eat. She'd stand to the side, but only allow Shrike a couple mouthfuls of the stuff if she leaped forward to eat, before stopping her.

Look, Relic was lucky - and grateful - to be alive. Through grit and teamwork, they'd taken down the Unbound Champion, and maybe put him to rest in the process? She didn't know much about him, but he didn't seem... Happy? Though, in her opinion, alive and sad about it was a better compromise.

She was grateful for the chance, yeah. But it stung a little bit to see the guy who'd broken every bone in your body get a special callout when you'd been working your ass off just as hard! He wasn't even supposed to be alive! If it weren't for that blue guy, he wouldn't have been here to claim any reward.

She looked to Shrike for a second, a silent observer, maybe hoping for some kind of solidarity between them, the survivors outside of the top 3. But Shrike seemed to only care about licking up whatever remained of Saran'zol, and Relic had to respect her for that. That's a Gembound who knows what she wants.

Maybe Relic was the asshole here.

Her wing was started to hurt like a bastard. She nodded to the Overseer, then to her fellow champions, and made her exit.

Shrike dipped her head, acknowledging Tectus. She was too socially oblivious to notice the Overseer's discomfort, and indeed it wasn't exactly an easy face to read, were Shrike so inclined. But she wasn't aiming to throw herself into the sand and eat it like a monster. She took a beakful of the goop, tasted, swallowed, and tipped her head back.

She'd meant what she said. It was a twisted sort of logic, but this was in a sense Saran'zol. What remained of the Unbound Champion. Now it was pouring into her veins, the hiss of Oil adding to her growing corruption.

The others had gotten their prizes, and she wasn't jealous of that. She'd not wanted anything material. This, in her eyes, was a greater gift. A piece of the event itself.

Maybe she could get a tattoo or something too.

Shrike turned, giving Tectus a nod, and then... paused. What now? That was a hard thought. This had been a vicious, wonderful battle, and now-? Now she had to just... go home to Draco, go home and... what? Sit? Sleep? Her blood was up. Returning to a life of waiting... ugh.

She wished, for once, that she had an Oilstone, so that she could be called to war. For now she ruffled her feathers, looked around at the other still-standing combatants (and no, there was no solidarity there; she was lost in her own thoughts, though she took note of the other winners with appreciation), and considered.

OH! Oh. There was backstage, now, wasn't there? Tectus had just shown them the secret handshake.

Shrike could go get shitfaced drunk for the first time in her life! Okay, hold on, solidarity found. "DRINKS!" she brayed, and turned to make for the doors.

Gaheris felt like a glowstick at a school dance.

It didn't even occur to her that someone had saved her, she was so zonked that it was becoming difficult to feel much of anything. She just wanted it to be over - and then it wasn't, weirdly enough.

He pulled himself up with incredible effort. The Overseer was speaking loudly, the noise rang down his neck but none of the words travelled. That is, until she was right in front of him with Saran'zol's staff in her jaws. What? He'd done... Well?

Heat flushed through her, even if her whole body felt like a bruise. Of course she'd done well. It's what she'd spent cycles training for! Though her brain was too blasted to respond with anything more than a wobbly nod.

DRINKS! Gaheris had never tried alcohol before. Maybe now was the perfect time to start.

The battle at its end, at last safety lasting longer than a breath's length had been achieved. Wings of light no longer needed to be maintained, and so as Fahl descended to the arena floor, the bright feathers softened and gradually wisped away. He floated an inch over the ground when they disappeared entirely. Far from graceful, he tumbled into a landing, shuffling about on awkward, fatigued feet. Were his brain less addled from combat, perhaps there would have been a bit more shame over his current state. As it were, the faintest whisper of unconscious thought encouraged him to try to stand in statue stillness, chin up and chest out at Tectus' approach. A partial success—while claws were firmly planted, the rest of his body swayed like a tree bending in a strong wind.

Balance what it was, he nearly fell forward onto his face reaching out to accept the band and shard she offered him. Thankfully, dignity was salvaged through back legs pressing themselves further into the earth. No voice remaining at the moment through his own actions, whatever gratitude he wished to display couldn't be verbal. He settled for a nod, tense neck muscles rendering the motion jerky and mechanical.

As Tectus turned her attention to the next survivor, Fahl lingered, eyes not leaving his newfound possessions. Particularly, they dwelled upon the Oilstone, a fragment of the champion they'd all faced. This was a piece of someone, the power they had held. And, if he was not mistaken, this also contained the potential to be someone again. The idea paralyzed him: as far as he'd come, was his magic even enough to truly make this flourish? He'd only just recently strengthened himself more, gained knowledge at the cost of having to climb back to his current peak of ability. Would life reshaped more so in his image even respect him, or would they look down their nose at his feeble attempts to become greater?

And then there was the chrysalis, that prison which all Gembounds were forced to return to, time and again. Others were luckier than him, enveloped rapidly by their stone without being suffocated first. What sort of fate would he be consigning any creation of his to if they happened to share his unfortunate gem location? They might spend their days in fear of any injury that might push them into momentary oblivion, knowing the panic that would ensue each instance their airways were blocked off.

Uncertainties upon uncertainties. Too much to ponder when his head ached so. Better to set this aside, literally and figuratively, to chart a course for home and a much needed rest. Slowly, Fahl turned, careful to maintain his footing. Loud celebration could wait for when he didn't feel flattened by the world's weight.