Astrid
Were It That Prison Was Merely A Room
Then perhaps freedom could yet, in some small manner, have existed here. Freedom, a simple word which almost every ear could recognize, but many did not fully understand. It was not merely the ability to come and ago as one pleased, nor even to, ostensibly, do as one pleased. Were this the case, she would already be free. The true concept of being free remained forevermore, a much more detailed and grand school of thought on all its own. To walk about without fear or concern, to breathe lightly and calmly and smile at the sky, to make friends, experiences, to even have these things in a place like this, a school unlike any other. All were their own little pieces of freedom, alongside more immediate and concerning ones. To have bountiful sustenance of which you bear no concern? To sleep safely and soundly, resting body and soul, to traverse the space between the conscious and unconscious, all without finding yourself in contention with the very demons which would follow you all around your waking hours?
These too, like all the rest, were missing. Though experience may have forced grander wisdom her than might oft be found elsewhere, as she tried to follow the Silvery woman's advise and sleep despite her fear, Astrid was only beginning to understand. Freedom was more than just a word. Prison is more than just shackles and a cell.
Starvation and sleeplessness now collected their toll, eyes closed, mind finally drifting to sleep. It seemed only moments had passed that she jolted awake once more, assuming some trespasser had somehow evaded her senses, she lurched forward, as her eyes opened. It was not her room she saw, or rather, not the one she expected. This one was cold, lifeless, made of rock and ice. It was not a voice she heard, this was the squelching sound of pierced skin and flowing blood. There was no person, no entity anywhere which she felt either, instead buffeted by a cold draft, mind consumed by a paralyzing fear and realization, one which the body would follow not moments later. Induced not by fear, but by pain.
Every muscle across her body would tense at once, a natural response as the pain of slashing cuts, wailing crushes, and screeching impalements tore a path of ethereal evisceration across every cell of her being. As the first wave subsided, natural instinct took command, to relax itself, to move and protect itself, to run away, to do anything. Each and every of the conflicting decisions and reactions would bring about the following waves in an ever greater and escalating procession. For several minutes onward it would continue, turning her life into a show of disoriented spasms, screams, and shockwaves, as natural instinct continued ever further to gain itself release through the power of it's little storms.
Suddenly, at the gate of her icy prison appeared a visitor she'd not seen before. Taller than her, and of remarkable similarity, emerald eyes and silver locks, she seemed to yell to Astrid, but were words she could not hear. The woman, she looked almost as if she could have been the half-elf's sibling, seemed to try to find her way in. She would never make any progress, a shadowy figure, a blade rapidly imposing between her and the gate, before slashing forward, raining forth her body to go with her blood off the mountain.
A strange sense of clarity washes over her mind as she watches. Though she did not fully recognize the woman, she had felt familiar. As if she were seeing them clearly and fully for the very first time. In this window of calm, new feeling emerged. Fear gave way to a volcanic rage. Natural instinct overtaken by conscious will. The storm around her body magnified it's intensity rapidly, as new color binds with it. Red, the color of blood, a predator's fixation - and black - the color of death, war's only meaningful end. Screams of pain turned slowly into yells, then to roars, disorganized and flailing muscles followed rigid command as she slowly stood, the cold both within and without waged a rapidly turning war against an internal heat which coursed in unison with the fiery flows Muspelheim.
The Trinity of Destruction had amassed itself, synchronized into a single rampaging force, perhaps now more monster than divine. From a body small, weary and thin, pain and fear excised from the consciousness, a strength far superior to the misleading gaze would shatter the walls of this heavenly icebox suspended in frozen Hel. Her whole body flexed forward at once, thrusting backwards with the wrath of wind and lightning, the cursed changes tearing further into her body than any nightmare would have foreseen. Such immense pain would begin to overwhelm even this, the manifestation of a murderous intent itself, its ethereal cold asserting a beachhead within the body which had only just banished it.
Cursed in their nation and forged for this intent, the chains themselves would not give. The icy walls to which they had been affixed, however, had not been given substantial enough care to bear ratings for handling a storm like this. They would crack, fragment, and ultimately be torn apart, the anchors of the chains carrying their prisoner forward to the ground with them. Rivers of blood now graced this dead and frozen rock. Astrid stood, waves of ice and visceral cutting still warping her mind and body, looking up as the gate creaked open. In entered someone familiar. Someone she had seen many times in lakes, mirrors, puddles and more, a likeness shrouded in darkness, a cursed and demonic reflection.
No word was spoken as the distance was closed, and the two raised their fists. Adorned in chains of her own, the dark reflections lacked the thorns of the light ones, and whereas the latter set seemed to devour the light into a deep and frozen and blue, the former graced the world with a gentle golden-white light. Both shifted in unison to deliver their blows, and as her right hand flung forward, the world around began to fade. In entered another room, the one she had expected before her eyes not long ago. There was no blood, no chains, no tattered cloth, but the unified rampage of her power endowing her body yet remained. Too late now, be it wall or demon, something was being hit.
Astrid's fist, in reality, would strike the wall of her Holy High dorm. Made by Hephaestus himself, it would truly be her first experience hitting something that did not feel pain, nor broke under the outsized force her small frame generated. Though she would succeed in leaving a small, but still noticeable impression into the edifice, the same cheery news could not be delivered to... the entire rest of the house. Everything not heavy as hell or bolted down would be launched in a series of chaotic ballistics, the door to room itself blown straight off the hinges by a positively apocalyptic change in air pressure. The blast wave, born of sheer inhuman force and the whirlwind of storms around her body, would continue out, blasting into the rest of the building, leaving it only somewhat better off than her room would be.
Locked though it was, the front door would only fair a bit better. Though the force had dissipated enough not to simply rip it off at its obvious failure points, it retained enough to break open the lock and knob. A loud, though seemingly distant BOOM could be heard, no doubt for miles, even by humans, like a grand faraway explosion. Up close, it was more akin to a massive pressure cooker blowing itself open. Her own ears ringing slightly, Astrid would slowly stumble out of her room, vision still blurring between a terrifying, confusing, blown around reality and an even more frightening fantasy she could hardly tell the difference between. Strewn about as the room was, very little was actually broken. Aside from the parts of the doors which had very blatant, very small points of failure acted upon by extreme force, everything else had fared well through it.
Including, oddly, the television, a fact that would have made a more sane girl marvel Hephaestus craftsmanship. It was evident it had been kept standing by something impacting it as it fell forward, yet it seemed mostly unscathed. Half unintentionally turning the couch back upright, supporting her weight atop it, in its reflection she watched not only her mind - but her body - dance between the worlds. One looking terrified and anxious, the other snarling, bloodthirsty and enraged. Both, too, were trembling, outright shaking, the only constant between them save the yet ever-present kinetic aura of domain-given power.
Aemilia
For Glory and an Empire
"The Emperor's armies marched. Many legions of little green-energied soldiers began to slowly emerge from the forests. Their General, a Wise but young Emperor had used the natural appearance of his people to cunningly blend with their woodland surroundings, enabling them to move stealthily around their Confederation pursuers. With a tense border on their southern frontiers, the Emperor had no choice to sally forth outnumbered to the north against his Eastern rival. Many months, even years of diplomatic entreaties had lead to this point.
A tale old as time, indeed! For many a Kingdom had waged many a war over the rights of life's liquid essence, water. The Eastern Confederation had simply refused any peaceful amendments to the borders of the Great Lake, as once-in-a-century drought ravished the Imperial Plains. His army approached its shores now, scouts from both sides catching glimpses of the other.
And a fortuitous day! Having lost sight of the foxy Emperor, the Confederation generals and, perhaps, a bit of their squabbling, has resulted in three fragmented smaller armies guarding multiple approaches. When amassed, the Imperial Legions assembled are unable to match the, but with a hasty attack they could yet be faced one-by-one. His unexpected appearance from this angle leaves his nearest opponent unawares, and his men snap into rapid advance to catch them before they adjust!" Aemilia, who had to this point been following the green army of tiny little figurines, made in the same technique as her life-size self-copies, rushed around and ahead of them, now standing about a dozen feet from the Oasis, and in between the advancing Green army, and the off-guard Black army trying desperately to adjust in time to meet their foes.
"Messengers ride hard to the other encampments as destiny closes in on the beachside battlefront! The Confederation scrambles still to array their shields in the correct direct, but the distance is closing, banners now visible in their waving brilliance from the battle lines." A loud BOOM is heard in the distance, roughly across campus, though its muffled sound gave it an eerie feeling of distance, breaking Aemilia's commentary for a moment, "Someone is apparently too anti-social to use the gym... NO MATTER. FATE HAS ARRIVED. THE LINES ARE DRAWN, THE ENEMY UNPREPARED, MONTHS OF DIPLOMACY, WEEKS OF SKIRMISHES AND MARCHING, HAVE TO LEAD TO THIS MOMENT. There is no longer time for blissful thoughts and regrets, to wonder upon the sky and stars of a world where blood need not rain, where life need not suffer, FOR ALL THAT REMAINS NOW IS TO DRAW YOUR BLADES, AND RENDER UPON OUR ENEMIES THIS RIGHTEOUS CRUSADE!"
As Aemilia draws her own gladius triumphantly, and a cacophony of little war yells as thousands of tiny, tiny Rebirth and Destruction energy-made entities clashed, she thought to herself. It's great no one is around to watch this, she's not really shy, but. The looks people give you? They're a bit awkward? Maybe it was jealousy that fueled their judgement, that for whatever reason they could not do the same. Whatever it was, it was nice to have a bit of time alone for it.
