You know, Sylvain's not usually one for solo missions! He doesn't have Dimitri's raw strength to fall back on in a pinch, nor is he so confident in his ability to outmaneuver and outclass his opponents as Felix. Comparably, he's found he's at his best when he has the support of trusted friends and allies at his side--and, perhaps more importantly, when he has someone he wants to protect.
That last part does have a bit of a tendency to outweigh anything else, for better or for worse. Like... well, now, for example. He'd meant for it to be a simple trip! Sure, he'd be the first to admit that the plan had hardly been his most sensible right from the very start, but when he'd inquired about a certain location on the map--Caph, a place left distanced from the majority of the Court's other territories--and was waved off by claims that it wasn't worth checking, what else was he meant to do? There hadn't been time to sway anyone else to come with him by the time he'd decided, and it was meant to be a simple trip anyway... Ride out, check for potential signs of survival around the area (he's used to patrolling borders, after all) and then be back in Acubens by the next nightfall.
Looking back now, he thinks as he steps blindly back and nearly stumbles over one of countless bones littering the ground surrounding, it's a damn good thing Felix had been so stubbornly against the idea that he'd decided to come out as well. Without the light of the moon, Sylvain can only just make out the merciless swing of a Spartae's sword as it clangs uselessly against his shield; it feels too heavy as he lifts it, exhaustion clearly written in the effort it takes to return the blow, but the way the creature finally gives way against the silver-tipped lance Felix oh-so-kindly borrowed for him (thanks for the unknowing donation, Priestess, u da best) provides just enough relief for him to keep going against all odds. He can still hear Felix fighting some distance from him--and that brings a sort of relief with it as well--but how long have they been at this? Hours, surely, as the weariness searing into his muscles and the ache of bruises from blunt blows blossoming beneath his armor seems to suggest they've been at it all night. Too long, he corrects, a laugh caught in his throat like it might be trying to choke him. They've been fighting too long. Even the strongest soldier on the battlefield doesn't stand a chance if he can't bring himself to keep fighting, and if things continue like this...
...In a moment's respite, he tries to pick out his companion's frame against the seamlessly dark horizon. Although... he doesn't have as much trouble as he expects, actually? Or maybe it just... isn't so dark anymore. Sylvain nearly catches a mace to the shoulder as his tired mind tries to work these details into something concrete, something usable, and it's only once he glances back to his newest assailant and has to blink as his eyes fight to adjust to the change that he catches the faint golden glow rising on the horizon.
Even still, it's not until he fells the creature and finds none near enough to replace it that things slowly start to click into place.
"Felix," he shouts, and he aims for relieved but lands somewhere squarely between startled and panicked as he catches one last Spartae as it retreats past him. "Is... is that it?"
Did they actually survive that, because frankly, he's pretty sure he's tired enough to pass for dead.
Action; A novel for the October Event
That last part does have a bit of a tendency to outweigh anything else, for better or for worse. Like... well, now, for example. He'd meant for it to be a simple trip! Sure, he'd be the first to admit that the plan had hardly been his most sensible right from the very start, but when he'd inquired about a certain location on the map--Caph, a place left distanced from the majority of the Court's other territories--and was waved off by claims that it wasn't worth checking, what else was he meant to do? There hadn't been time to sway anyone else to come with him by the time he'd decided, and it was meant to be a simple trip anyway... Ride out, check for potential signs of survival around the area (he's used to patrolling borders, after all) and then be back in Acubens by the next nightfall.
Looking back now, he thinks as he steps blindly back and nearly stumbles over one of countless bones littering the ground surrounding, it's a damn good thing Felix had been so stubbornly against the idea that he'd decided to come out as well. Without the light of the moon, Sylvain can only just make out the merciless swing of a Spartae's sword as it clangs uselessly against his shield; it feels too heavy as he lifts it, exhaustion clearly written in the effort it takes to return the blow, but the way the creature finally gives way against the silver-tipped lance Felix oh-so-kindly borrowed for him
(thanks for the unknowing donation, Priestess, u da best)provides just enough relief for him to keep going against all odds. He can still hear Felix fighting some distance from him--and that brings a sort of relief with it as well--but how long have they been at this? Hours, surely, as the weariness searing into his muscles and the ache of bruises from blunt blows blossoming beneath his armor seems to suggest they've been at it all night. Too long, he corrects, a laugh caught in his throat like it might be trying to choke him. They've been fighting too long. Even the strongest soldier on the battlefield doesn't stand a chance if he can't bring himself to keep fighting, and if things continue like this......In a moment's respite, he tries to pick out his companion's frame against the seamlessly dark horizon. Although... he doesn't have as much trouble as he expects, actually? Or maybe it just... isn't so dark anymore. Sylvain nearly catches a mace to the shoulder as his tired mind tries to work these details into something concrete, something usable, and it's only once he glances back to his newest assailant and has to blink as his eyes fight to adjust to the change that he catches the faint golden glow rising on the horizon.
Even still, it's not until he fells the creature and finds none near enough to replace it that things slowly start to click into place.
"Felix," he shouts, and he aims for relieved but lands somewhere squarely between startled and panicked as he catches one last Spartae as it retreats past him. "Is... is that it?"
Did they actually survive that, because frankly, he's pretty sure he's tired enough to pass for dead.