Post by Aegle Vitus on Dec 20, 2016 18:13:49 GMT -6
Aegle was disappointed too. All that build up, all her anticipation, all Guinevere's potential, and all she got in the end was a bit of fire dust in the face. She watched the small flower of flame as it came towards her, a dissatisfied frown already formed on her face.
What a profound let down.
As the blossom bloomed into light, Aegle only breathed in and braced herself for what was to come. Fire was nothing new for her; Everyone and their grandmother used it. She'd been scalded, burnt and set alight more times than she could possibly count, and the experience had long ago lost all appeal and mystique. There had been a time when being on fire used to be interesting; When It used to be exciting. Now it was just annoying, and the most boring possible element that might be brought to bear against her.
Aegle had barely gotten her eyes closed before the blast of pressure rushed across her restrained form. She had, naturally, attempted to close her arms and ward off the flames, but her arms had not capitulated, but they would have done her little good at such close range anyway. Next came that familiar feeling, that horrible creeping stinging that burned so hot as to almost feel cold, and quick on its heels was the more insidious throbbing of nerves incinerated by the momentary rise in temperature. Her ears popped for the second time in as many minutes as the fire dust first consumed all oxygen around her, then collapsed in on itself as it ran out of things to burn, and she heard the hissing, howling tempest of unsettled air that always came with an instantaneous flame. Aegle's jaw was iron as the agony crept across her, spreading seemingly to every inch of her body, and she made not so much as a sound as the flames licked at her body. It hurt incredibly, but she would not cry out; She knew better. She'd breathed in flames once, and it had nearly killed her, and was not a mistake she was eager to repeat.
For the second time in as many minutes, the crowd gasped in seeming unison, and eyes flicked between the carnage in the arena and the expected obliteration of aura depicted on the status screen. For the second time in as many minutes, their expectations were subverted. This fireball, for as huge and flashy as it was, took less of a chunk out of Aegle's aura than her impact with the ground, and left the pint sized huntress with something close to four fifths of her overall strength. It was because of this momentary misdirection that less than half the arena was watching when Guin's red threads, insulated by ice and leading into faltering flames, suddenly drew taught and were pulled into the fire with all the force of a car crash. Then, from the heart of the quickly fading inferno, was issued as a inhuman, keening shriek that cut through the cacophony of fire and flame. Aegle lunged free of the fireball, the threads on her hand still glimmering like slashes of blood, her free fist raised. With less than thirty feet between them, Aegle was upon Guinevere in less than a second, swinging a lightning fast punch that seemed to shriek as loud as the unchained machine than propelled it, trailing smoke and tethers of flame the whole way.
"That it?!" Aegle roared, her voice hoarse over the wailing of her Oupis, as she brought her earth shattering hand down on Guin, whom she'd snatched towards her by the lengths of her own reinforced threads. Her eyes blazed as bright as emeralds in the seared ruin of her face, her lips pulled back in an agonized sneer that showed off every one of her blood stained teeth. Flames still raged atop her head, consuming the last of her vibrant mohawk, having already rendered the rest of her face as bald as cooked meat. Amusingly, without eyebrows, Aegle looked just as surprised as she did infuriated, though perhaps that was less amusing for the girl she was about to punch. The rest of her hadn't fared much better, and some had fared considerably worse. Her clothes were smoldering rags, with bits of smoke and the occasional flame visible throughout the capacious folds of hoodie and cargo pants, exposing still burning underclothes and blotchy flesh beneath. What skin was exposed ranged in color from a aggravated pink to a furious, nearly bloody red, as if she'd been attacked with molten blades. She was a charred catastrophe, having just survived a blow that should have obliterated her aura and sporting injuries that should have been in far too much painful to mount any sort of attack. What was more, she definitely wasn't having any trouble moving, and her capacity to charge out of a raging inferno as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience would have put the most self-possessed fighters on their heels.
Yet nothing was quite so striking, not the charred fabric, nor horrible burns, nor the still raging flames, nor even the explosive surprise of her assault, as the other fire that burned off of Aegle in overwhelming waves. Light, golden and bright, roiled up her arms and off her shoulders and trailed through the air behind her. It spilled in effervescent motes from her raised hands and pounding feet, and writhed with its own irrepressible life across every surface of her body, like glittering armor. Even the Oupis smouldered with these passionate and unnatural flames, driving Aegle forward faster, harder and more implacably than should have been physically possible. What was more, it filled the air around Aegle with an immutable and undeniable certainty. Certainty that neither she nor her arms would ever break, that she would would raze mountains and hold back the churning sea, that she would weather any attack and shatter any defense, that she was as unstoppable as an earthquake and the single most deadly thing on the face of Remnant. Even those in the stands could feel it, the sudden explosion of will and determination and the wholesale abandonment of doubt, so furious and utterly convinced of its own incredible power. And some among them even shied back, as if afraid her dauntless resolve might be directed at them. She shriek victoriously as the last vestiges of pain and doubt were shed from her in an explosion of orange flame, a thousand times brighter than Guinevere's tiny fireball.
What a profound let down.
As the blossom bloomed into light, Aegle only breathed in and braced herself for what was to come. Fire was nothing new for her; Everyone and their grandmother used it. She'd been scalded, burnt and set alight more times than she could possibly count, and the experience had long ago lost all appeal and mystique. There had been a time when being on fire used to be interesting; When It used to be exciting. Now it was just annoying, and the most boring possible element that might be brought to bear against her.
Aegle had barely gotten her eyes closed before the blast of pressure rushed across her restrained form. She had, naturally, attempted to close her arms and ward off the flames, but her arms had not capitulated, but they would have done her little good at such close range anyway. Next came that familiar feeling, that horrible creeping stinging that burned so hot as to almost feel cold, and quick on its heels was the more insidious throbbing of nerves incinerated by the momentary rise in temperature. Her ears popped for the second time in as many minutes as the fire dust first consumed all oxygen around her, then collapsed in on itself as it ran out of things to burn, and she heard the hissing, howling tempest of unsettled air that always came with an instantaneous flame. Aegle's jaw was iron as the agony crept across her, spreading seemingly to every inch of her body, and she made not so much as a sound as the flames licked at her body. It hurt incredibly, but she would not cry out; She knew better. She'd breathed in flames once, and it had nearly killed her, and was not a mistake she was eager to repeat.
For the second time in as many minutes, the crowd gasped in seeming unison, and eyes flicked between the carnage in the arena and the expected obliteration of aura depicted on the status screen. For the second time in as many minutes, their expectations were subverted. This fireball, for as huge and flashy as it was, took less of a chunk out of Aegle's aura than her impact with the ground, and left the pint sized huntress with something close to four fifths of her overall strength. It was because of this momentary misdirection that less than half the arena was watching when Guin's red threads, insulated by ice and leading into faltering flames, suddenly drew taught and were pulled into the fire with all the force of a car crash. Then, from the heart of the quickly fading inferno, was issued as a inhuman, keening shriek that cut through the cacophony of fire and flame. Aegle lunged free of the fireball, the threads on her hand still glimmering like slashes of blood, her free fist raised. With less than thirty feet between them, Aegle was upon Guinevere in less than a second, swinging a lightning fast punch that seemed to shriek as loud as the unchained machine than propelled it, trailing smoke and tethers of flame the whole way.
"That it?!" Aegle roared, her voice hoarse over the wailing of her Oupis, as she brought her earth shattering hand down on Guin, whom she'd snatched towards her by the lengths of her own reinforced threads. Her eyes blazed as bright as emeralds in the seared ruin of her face, her lips pulled back in an agonized sneer that showed off every one of her blood stained teeth. Flames still raged atop her head, consuming the last of her vibrant mohawk, having already rendered the rest of her face as bald as cooked meat. Amusingly, without eyebrows, Aegle looked just as surprised as she did infuriated, though perhaps that was less amusing for the girl she was about to punch. The rest of her hadn't fared much better, and some had fared considerably worse. Her clothes were smoldering rags, with bits of smoke and the occasional flame visible throughout the capacious folds of hoodie and cargo pants, exposing still burning underclothes and blotchy flesh beneath. What skin was exposed ranged in color from a aggravated pink to a furious, nearly bloody red, as if she'd been attacked with molten blades. She was a charred catastrophe, having just survived a blow that should have obliterated her aura and sporting injuries that should have been in far too much painful to mount any sort of attack. What was more, she definitely wasn't having any trouble moving, and her capacity to charge out of a raging inferno as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience would have put the most self-possessed fighters on their heels.
Yet nothing was quite so striking, not the charred fabric, nor horrible burns, nor the still raging flames, nor even the explosive surprise of her assault, as the other fire that burned off of Aegle in overwhelming waves. Light, golden and bright, roiled up her arms and off her shoulders and trailed through the air behind her. It spilled in effervescent motes from her raised hands and pounding feet, and writhed with its own irrepressible life across every surface of her body, like glittering armor. Even the Oupis smouldered with these passionate and unnatural flames, driving Aegle forward faster, harder and more implacably than should have been physically possible. What was more, it filled the air around Aegle with an immutable and undeniable certainty. Certainty that neither she nor her arms would ever break, that she would would raze mountains and hold back the churning sea, that she would weather any attack and shatter any defense, that she was as unstoppable as an earthquake and the single most deadly thing on the face of Remnant. Even those in the stands could feel it, the sudden explosion of will and determination and the wholesale abandonment of doubt, so furious and utterly convinced of its own incredible power. And some among them even shied back, as if afraid her dauntless resolve might be directed at them. She shriek victoriously as the last vestiges of pain and doubt were shed from her in an explosion of orange flame, a thousand times brighter than Guinevere's tiny fireball.
