Fandom ⌜ "Red Fated Ribbons" ⌟ ↝ ⌞ Vapor_Wave & Ouiaboo ⌝

[Ouiaboo]

∴ Ouiaboo , Xillia ∴
× Setting ×
At the dawn of the new war on Plegia.
Ylissean forces have begun a war with the Grimleal after a resounding victory in Valm against Walhart.
The dawn of Grima is nigh, but can the Shepherds stop the darkness from winning?
× Characters ×
Robin, Lissa, Kuro - Ouiaboo
Chrom, Frederick, Claire - Vapor
...more to be discovered...

​

× The candlelight licked the darkness. The time ticked on. The tactician was wearing down, and yet there was still so much more he had to do. If they were to win the war with Plegia, to save the halidom, he couldn't rest until it was clear what path they would take. Strategies whizzed in and out of his mind, and he jotted down which good ideas he came up with. In the morning, he'd review them with Chrom and the others who leaded the front against Plegia. His ragtag group of friends... He took a glance at the time, as if that would do any good. It's late. That's all there was to it. He released a sigh into the night, and continued on. Just as he'd neared a conclusion to his strategy, it hung at the end of his tongue. His mind was doing anything left within its power to avoid work. The loss of focus that happens at dusk. Just a little more, he pleaded with his own mind. It was no good. Unfortunately, he wouldn't come to the conclusion here. At least not for now. A scream penetrated the night's silence.

Robin stirred at once from his thoughts, jostling his desk so hard the candle nearly toppled to the ground. His papers certainly did. Robin struggled at first to come to reality, but once he had he broke into a sprint. His robes rustled in pace.

"Chrom," his voice came rough to his throat. He cleared it. More firmly, "Where's Chrom?" His eyes took in the scene before his mind did. The Shepherds had set up camp, and now that very camp was lit aflame. It was a spectacle behold, a blaze in the dead black. Robin set himself to work immediately, to keep the pyre at bay.

"There's still someone inside!" someone cried.

Robin's heart sank.

 

[Xillia]

₮he evening prior had been an exotic one, one the band of Shepherds and their soldiers hadn't seen in eons. The soft flutter of wind coupled with the dance of crestfallen leaves that seemingly waltzed in their aloft ensemble, echoed in the melodies of the night. Distant sounds of campfires cracking, the idle chatter of men and women as they drank their night away, reverberating their resounding victory over Valm. Chrom stood idly above the site, his sharp, azure blue eyes reflecting the glimmering flicker of dozens of embers in wake. Around them however, lay the declining figures of fatigued bodies, now wary from their exploits and the gilded veil of victory coming to its hazy resignation. A gentle gust swept back the matted midnight blue hair from his brow, forcing his eyes hidden beneath the lids above as though the nature's touch was one of a lover's.

He was stirred from this blissful dream-scape by the thick thud of reality. From his left, the sounds of heavily armored heels digging into the dirt, marching towards him. Years of battle now had taught him caution -- yet -- as soon as his gaze had spun and caught a glimpse of the figure from within the luminescent glow, his features relaxed once more. The swoop of brunette hair, coupled with the square jawline of a refined noble, and armor as thick and bulky as a miniature mountain, the man approached. He said nothing at first, merely joining at Chrom's side to meet the sight he'd overseen for the past few hours, Though one for few civilities and the abruptness of an ox, the larger man spoke.

"It is oft unbecoming of a lord not to remain in the protection of his encampment, correct?"

Chrom let forth a gentle chuckle, his kind eyes turning to the side to meet the man's shoulder, "Not entirely so. It's also a wonderful opportunity to get some air, to clear my thoughts."

Frederick's brow perked at this, "Is something amiss, M'lord?"

Chrom merely shook his head, "No, nothing like that I suppose, just lost in thought with all that has happened as of recent."

"Your mind rests on Walhart?"

"It does, that and many other things. We're now on the border of Plegia, the next target of our continental liberation, and they've not once attacked. Their scouts must know we're out here, secrecy has never been our strong suit."

A long pause followed as Frederick cleared his throat, his eyes now travelling over the tents before falling upon one in particular. After his extended silence, he continued, though his voice was stout and emotionless, "I suppose we owe the victories up until now to one in particular, their fervor has proved rather tenacious in these previous conflicts. Wise and concise, in all the right moments, even the ones I have failed to control, though it pains me to admit it."

A sturdy hand landed on his shoulder and his gaze met Chrom's, his warm smile easing the uptight nature he'd held so valuable in his travels. "We all have our flaws old friend, we're just blessed to have someone like Robin who's strengths just so happened to be coming through when those flaws deem a task impossible."

"Yes, m'lord. You have a fair point."

Once more, the silence echoed between them, Chrom's hand now sliding from the plated pauldron, his eyes beset towards the layout of the encampment. "Perhaps... When this is all over," Chrom carried on, the silence now broken for the final time, "We should hold a feast, to honor him, to honor you, and all the others brave enough to have accepted this challenge on Ylissian behalf. I think it would only be fitting, and the morale boost would be a huge help."

Frederick cleared his throat, "Once this is over, m'lord, you should return to the throne of the kingdom and continue rule. There will always be others to fight wars for you, your constant endangerment of your own life for others is noble, but at the same time, wildly foolish."

"Maybe so." Chrom conceded, his soft smile now fading, "But I won't ever truly find peace until I know that those I care about are safe, and their health kept in check."

"Never you mind tha--" Frederick's gaze snapped back down to the campsite, a horrific sound, piercing the night as the intricacies of their conversation.

"That'll have to wait, something's going on!" Chrom snapped, his form already in a descent down the hillside towards where the sound had come from. His legs pumped faster and faster, in motion with his arms, until at last he'd arrived to where a crowd of soldiers, disoriented and disgruntled, stood over the stilled body. He gazed down and his eyes shot wide open, the youth they'd put on guard duty that night, he could scarcely remember the boy's name, but his eyes had been wired open in shock, a trickle of blood pooling from his mouth and down the side of his jaw. An arrow, lodged deeply in his sternum. Chrom's hand extended, "All forces assemble and be battle-ready immediately, it's--" He was interrupted once more by a deafening roar from the west in the treeline.

It was enough to shake even a seasoned soldier to the bone, "It's an ambush!" He exclaimed as a volley of fireflies flew into the sky, descending in a maelstrom of death, capturing a few unsuspecting men and women in their voracious assault. Panicked, Chrom's eyes darted towards some of the tents that were now lit aflame, spreading rapidly in the tight formation of their canvas homes. "All men to the ready! Form a defensive line!" His hand drew down, slipping the Falchion from its scabbard and let the fine steel swing into the air.

. . .

(About a mile away . . .)

The road between Ylisse and Plegia had been a dangerous one, though often the one less traveled at night for fear of bandits. However for one individual, it was less traveled during the day for a lack of desire to run into any opposing armies, the silhouette in the moonlight, kept a resounding pace, the clinking of steel clattering from beneath the tattered cloak as the shadow pressed onward. All was quiet on that evening, well, at least it had been up until then. The initial roar broke the figure from her rhythm, the smell hitting her nostrils before her mind could even combat the thought. "War..." She muttered in a low, husky voice, eyes now trailing up to the north. "A good chance to stretch my sword-arm again."