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[warchiseled]

the last prince.

K

remnos, the mist-shrouded city of chaos and war! Its royal lineage is tainted with patricide, and its god bears the name of calamity. The undying Mydeimos, the lion apart from the rest. Chrysos Heir who seeks the Coreflame of Strife, must suffer a thousand deaths, be bathed in blood on the path home, and bear the madness of fate alone. — Kingslayer be king, godslayer be god. Iron-hooves pound across the wilderness for the campaign, and must eventually soak in the blood of their homeland.

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[warchiseled]

[The impact was rough, even for Mydei. He gritted his teeth, adjusting himself on top of Phainon and releasing his hold on him. He settled on Phainon's hips, removing his legs out from under Phainon so they weren't being crushed.]

Don't tell me — [Mydei clears his throat for a moment.] — don't tell that's all you got, Deliverer.

[dawnforged]

N-no— [wheeze.] Not at all!

[And he reaches down to grip Mydei by the hips to toss him off and onto the riverbank beside him. Begone.]

We haven’t— hah. Sparred since you completed your trial. I just need a second—

[warchiseled]

[Mydei rolled off of him willingly, actually.

He landed on his back beside Phainon, the cold water doing wonders to his heated skin.]

Should I go easier on you?

[Mydei will lay here with him in solidarity.]

[dawnforged]

If I ever ask you to do that, you might as well just put me out of my misery then and there.

[Pride aside, they’re supposed to be equals, right? If he can’t keep up with Mydei, then how can he be counted on for anything?]

Probably a good thing you took the gauntlets off, though.

[…]

Sorry. If it seemed like I was mad at you earlier. I mean, I was, but—

[warchiseled]

[This was going to come up at some point, better now than stewing in it for ages.

Mydei opened his eyes to stare up at the canopy, the hum of adrenaline fading from his veins now that they were no longer actively sparring.

For now.]

Your concern for me is appreciated.

[dawnforged]

[There’s a lot more he’d really like to say right now, but Phainon instead takes the opportunity to shut up. If he deflates at all, it’s barely noticeable.

A deep breath later, and he’s pushing himself up to his feet. He reaches up to shake the water from his hair, rolls his shoulders, and holds a hand out to help Mydei up to his feet.]

You can have that round, then.

[When he does finally break his silence, he just sounds… Tired.]

I’m alright to keep going. Ready?

[warchiseled]

[Mydei takes Phainon's hand, getting back up to his feet. He doesn't release it, though, and instead tightens his grip on him.]

Speak your mind, Deliverer.

[They are standing way too close, mostly because Mydei isn't releasing Phainon and just holding onto him like a leash to prevent him from escaping.]

[dawnforged]

[Man can’t you just let him retreat and bottle things up again it’s better that way.

He huffs out a heavy exhale, shaking his head and fixing Mydei with a wavering smile.]

It’s nothing, really. Promise.

[Give him his hand back he’s tugging.]

C’mon, seriously. I want to redeem myself, get at least a few good hits in?

[warchiseled]

[He's quiet for a moment, staring at Phainon with an expression that is unreadable unless you know him as well as Phainon probably does.

Be tightens his grip for a moment before he releases him and takes a step back.

He should probably say something.

Whatever it is that's bothering you, I am here to listen.

It will be okay, Phainon.]

Take your best shot, Deliverer.

[Mydei turns his back towards Phainon, his shoulders tense as he walks away from him. He turns once he's a good distance away, raising his first and holding one out in a Come here motion.]

[dawnforged]

[Damnit, he’s gone and spoiled it again, hasn’t he?

Frustration blooms anew, and the line of his jaw is sharp as he sets it. He waits until Mydei gives the go ahead, that feeling broiling deep in his gut until it simmers to something closer to rage.

It makes no sense. There’s no reason he should be this mad at Mydei right now, especially after being the one to extend the olive branch in the first place? Yet when he swings his fist again to try and clock Mydei square in the face, all the former levity has given way to a sort of smoldering intensity.]

[warchiseled]

[Whatever was wrong with Phainon was obviously something that Mydei had made worse. It couldn't just be the truth behind the crystals, there had to be something else underlining the whole thing.

But Phainon has very rarely confided in him.

Mydei didn't bother to block this attack, and instead taking the full hit to the side of his face. Golden blood filled his mouth, spilling past his lips as he moves with the momentum of the punch.

He dropped to the floor, aiming a kick to Phainon's legs to knock him over again.]

[dawnforged]

[This time he’s able to see the kick coming, and Phainon takes a quick step backward to get out of range.]

Quit it with the kicking.

[A sidestep this time, and then he’s reaching out to grab at the back of Mydei’s neck to try and roughly hoist him back up onto his feet like a scruffed cat.]

[warchiseled]

I didn't realize you had put such rules in place.

[When he grinned, it kinda looked slightly demented, with all the blood coating his teeth. Its fine dwbi.

Mydei was too busy trash talking to move much, though, and suddenly he's being yanked up like long cat and he looks like

?????]

[dawnforged]

I didn’t. I’m doing it now, though.

[Mydei is released. No longer a scruffed Mydei. Phainon gives him a moment to recover from the shock and then he’s throwing another punch. Another body shot this time, because he does feel a bit bad going for the face]

[warchiseled]

[A message pops up over Mydei's head that just says

Mydeimos will remember this.]

HKS. You can't put rules in place after the match has started.

[Mydei is quick on his feet, and unlike last time, he didn't take the hit. He quickly deflected Phainon's blow, countering with his own to Phainon's chest.]