bravenewworld | Elite Four Aftermath - In The Blizzard's Wake

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Elite Four Aftermath - In The Blizzard's Wake

The warriors of Union fought hard, and in the end, victory was their reward. Seeing the battle lost, the fanatics of the Elite Four fled into the night, those that were not killed or captured of course. Sveta was nowhere to be seen, nor was her mysterious companion, and as its rage was reaching its peak, the mighty Dragon simply vanished in a blaze of energy, recalled by its trainer but not before slamming the mysterious red dragon into another tower for good measure.

As quickly as they had come, the gods of Union vanished, leaving behind the ruined, devastated city. What was once panic has subsided to a quiet shock and horror as the dead and wounded are gathered and people try to find out what was damaged and if their family and friends are still among the living.

While the damage is great, the defenders of Union can take heart in the fact that it could have been much, much worse. The habitat suffered a major blow with a great hole blasted into it, but it is otherwise undamaged and salvageable. The forge likewise had one smithy station destroyed from a divine claw smite, but is otherwise unscathed. The signal tower took moderate damage from the initial attack, but it is reparable, given time. The biggest toll, however, is on that of the people. The Residential District, as well as parts of the Entertainment district lie in tatters. Several towers are gutted, and a few even fell completely, many of the citizens inside them trapped and unable to escape. In all, the death toll numbers around 700, with at least 1,000 wounded, and is expected to rise as rescuers desperately comb the wreckage in search of survivors. Never before has Union lost so many of its citizens, never before has such suffering and violence come to Union. People are afraid, they are angry, but, in the true spirit of Union, they are banding together. The City of Union has survived. But it will never be the same.

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"I must disagree," Sanger shakes his head, seating himself on the ground. "It is the easiest thing in the world. Simply do as your heart says, and it will not lead you astray. What is it you want to do? That is your calling."

For Sanger, it had been easy to decide. There never was anything but mastering the sword for him. To use it in defence of those who had no fangs of their own, he had joined the Steel Battalion. And now, after a death and rebirth of a kind, he is here, in Union, a lone warrior.

"And when you've found that path, you will inevitably find yourself." He finishes, perhaps not realising that Sophia meant literal amnesia as opposed to a metaphor about the confusion that all people face. But perhaps his answer would be the same either way: Find what you want, and go do it.

"What my...heart says?" Her brows pull together, while one hand lifts up, playing long fingers over the jacket covering her collar bone. She'd been so concerned by the loss of memory that she hadn't considered that as an option. Can it really be that simple?

Surely not. Yet Sanger seems utterly certain, expressing that fact as directly as his way allows (which is very). There's a soft hum under her breath of thought, before she lets her eyes close a moment. She feels a little silly, actually, but, what harm could it do?

"..My heart wishes for peace," she says at length, chin tilting in towards her chest. "I do not know what path that might take but.. 'Strength of heart, over strength of arm'." She's quoting herself there, recalling her conversation with Sveta, and tries not to frown at how that had gone in the end. "That feels right, somehow."

See? A first step already.

"I see." Sanger replies simply. It's a path different from the one he's chosen, but it's a fine path nonetheless. For the Sword that Smites Evil, strength of heart and strength of arm are one and the same. His sword and his soul simply cannot be separated.

"Then I suppose it's up to men like me to let people like you follow your paths." After all, nobody could chase anything if they were dead. Probably. Ghost-types might say something else about it, but they're hardly the majority. "It's best if swords are allowed to stay in their sheaths, but the world isn't so kind. So I had best make sure to keep your road clear."

He's almost meditative in his response, using words borrowed from his master but that still ring true from where he stands. Not everyone can fight, and not everyone has the will to fight. Those that do have the responsibility to keep the fires of war out of their way.

"You mean that, don't you.." Entirely serious, which adds a hint of wonder to her words. Although. That desire, the wish for peace -- feels incomplete. Though Sophia lacks the words to explain the full depth of that feeling, anchored as it is in the blank space where her memories once resided, she does make a token try.

"But that burden.. It isn't right that it should only fall on you." ..Sanger specifically? Or a more generic you? "I may have no desire to fight, but. Working together, to realise the sort of harmony that the Savior represents here..That may be a dream, but if there are other ways to fight back against the wrongs in this world, then it's only right that every chance is taken."

Heart before swords. Every avenue exhausted before combat becomes necessary.

She sets her mug on the wall next to her, before resting the flats of both palms on her thighs, leaning forward a little. "Do you work with the Swords of the Saviour here?" A pause, recalling his earlier words. "Or were you simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time? Or right place, I suppose."

"No, the Swords would never accept a warrior like me. I am from Caldera, but I mainly fight alone." Sanger answers her question first, but doesn't expand much on it. It's a long story, and not one that's terribly interesting. "So I go where I am needed." He adds at the end.

"This is the path I chose. To protect the innocent and cleave through evil may be my responsibility, but it is no burden. It is far better for me to stand on the battlefield alone than to watch those who shouldn't be forced to fight." He explains, not moving from his spot, in many ways a picture of stillness.

"If we could live in a world without war, and this sword could be hung up as an ornament for the rest of its days, I would be glad. But when we are attacked, to sit and die seems a great mistake. War may not lead to any lasting peace, but we may have to fight them nonetheless. As long as evil that cannot be reasoned with exists."

That earns a puzzled frown. "Because you are from Caldera..?"

No, that doesn't seem right. Union was--or had been--unfailingly welcoming to arrivals. But then again, the Swords were oath bound to the defence of the city and her people. One could not do as Sanger intended and go where you were needed when you had other such loyalties, other duties, holding you back.

"If we cannot fight, then we must find other ways to defend ourselves. Until reason can be found again..or those better able to fight might lend their aid." It's a logical enough a path to consider, and the two could walk in step for as long as there was a need. That there would be a need...well, she's disappointed by that, somehow, but perhaps a time would come where it wouldn't be anymore.

That said, Sophia does lift one hand, fingers closing against her palm as it rests against her chest. "But if something, or someone, can be reasoned with, is it truly evil?"

"No, because the Swords don't kill." Sanger answers eventually, letting the questions hang in the air for a long moment. He has a feeling it's not the kind of answer Sophia would like, but Sanger doesn't do what he does to be liked.

"It's their decision to make, but when I swing my Colossal Blade I rarely have the luxury of pulling my blows." Because really, have you seen the thing? The philosophical arguments aside, it's just physically impossible.

"So I have to make sure what I fight is truly evil, and while I believe it to be something that makes itself clear at a glance..." It's true enough, but he doubts Sophia will be satisfied with such an explanation. "Evil must possess a will. If it cannot be reasoned with then perhaps it cannot be evil. A plague may be unfortunate, but it is not evil, no more than the sun can be considered good for rising each day. No, it is those who can make the decision to stop, but persist in harming others that can be considered evil."

"Oh."

Well.

Sophia can't quite help tensing up, a little less certain now of her conversation companion. It may indeed not be an answer she likes, exactly. But it is no less honest than anything else he has said to her this evening. And he does have a point - not that she's ever seen him using the sword in direct combat. Something else trickles through her mind, an offhand comment of no discernible origin.

The only ones who should kill are those who are prepared to be killed.

..That's not a line of thought she likes, either. Pressing fingers to her temple a moment, partially splayed against her forehead, she tries to focus again on the conversation at hand. It would be rude to zone out when Sanger is open to discussion on an admittedly subjective subject, after all.

"It all comes down to choice, in the end.. But even those who's actions may be evil have a reason for what they do. But can someone really make the right choices if the only views they've ever known are those they've been raised to believe?" Belief was a powerful thing, after all. Sveta's faith in her gods had been unshakable - and she'd clearly believed that wiping out Union was the right course of action.

Edited (whoops lets nudge that close-quote mark to the correct place shall we) 2016-02-11 00:17 (UTC)

"You may be right." Sanger admits. He's stubborn about many things, but Sophia does have a point. It's one he has thought about before, but that's also why he has an answer for her. "Most of the people of Union would agree with you, and welcome all with open arms. I think that's admirable. But once it comes to violence, there's often little choice in the matter."

As much as Sanger philosophised on the battlefield, he knows full well a few shouted sentences over the noise of battle is hardly going to convince anyone to abandon their dearly held beliefs. No, once swords are drawn, it is likely too late for any of that.

"But I think deep within all of us is the ability to grasp right from wrong. The instinct not to hurt others is a strong one. No matter how they were raised, when the result looks like that," he glances pointedly at the damaged Union, "it surely cannot be possible to believe your actions were righteous."

The damage is hard to miss. It is, after all, why Sophia took perch here, to view the aftermath and think on what came next. Her breath curls in the air before her, before her head shakes slightly. "You're right. I may wish it wasn't so, but, to deny reality changes nothing.

"Still..It takes inner strength to be kind. To open yourself to the possibility of harm, and pick yourself up again after. We can only hope that Union learns from this, without losing what makes it so strong." She drags a strand of loose hair back over one ear, aware that her expression is turning a little melancholy again.

"But what kind of Gods do they follow, to have those that Union worship turn against them..?" They're rhetorical questions, for the most part. She has no answers, nor does she expect Sanger to. But they are things that worry her greatly. "What kind of place must Ever Grande be, to teach their children to hate.."

Because that is what this was, all of it an act born of hatred.

There's a faint shink of metal behind her, a Honedge's query, and she blinks, looks up and then back over her shoulder a moment. Musters a smile for her first friend. "And where have you been?"

"It would be a mistake to presume the gods are some kind of moral authority. They are as fallible as anyone else." Sanger answers anyway. He wouldn't quite say they are merely human, but the legendary Pokemon are, to Sanger, merely extremely large creatures. Intelligent? Yes. And they have the benefit of experience guiding them. But even so, they are not immune from evil, and sword works as well on them as they do anything else.

"No, in fact for these beings who have been around for uncountable lifetimes, they may even view all of this as a minor quarrel. They saw it fit to destroy all of civilisation once, what's a thousand more lives? It may be up to us smaller, ephemeral creatures to pass our own judgements." It should be clear by now that Sanger's not especially religious. The guidance of the gods is something he doesn't consider at all, and he says as much while as calm as ever, enveloped in a stillness that only a martial artist can really manage.

His calm is temporarily disturbed by the appearance of the Honedge, and Sanger turns his head slightly to watch it from the corner of his eye.

He can't place his finger on it, but despite being a mere Honedge, Sanger feels the need to be on guard against it. Perhaps it is simply the relationship between swords.

"Yet they did. They spared humans in the past, or we would not be here now." And Union would not have a Savior figure so ingrained into their society. "I do not think they would have appeared here to fight alongside the city's defenders if they felt that our lives were worth so little."

She sounds a lot closer to amused than scandalised about his Sanger's bordering on what might be considered sacrilegious (they would certainly do so to the likes of Sveta!) Perhaps she's not quite as one might first assume.

"I have reason more than most to believe in the Gods," she adds absently, "but I think they would prefer we learn, or relearn, some things for ourselves. Why else leave us alone for so long?"

She doesn't notice any disruption in Sanger's calm, however, attention focused on her Honedge companion. She's certainly comfortable with its presence, which might otherwise be considered odd given her peaceable stance. Moving up and over the wall, the ghost-type hovers next to her, trying to get a better look at whoever his charge was talking to.

"I take it your patrol went well, th--!" Startled, Sophia leans back as the ghost suddenly veers forward, rather firmly placing himself between her and Sanger. She can't see his glare at the human male, but it's clear from her expression that this behaviour is more than a little odd. Even for a pokémon as overprotective as, "Ymir?"

"I cannot begin to guess at their intentions, and I suspect it would do us little good to spend time dwelling on ancient history when so much of it is lost to time." There are only a few beings who have memories of that war, and Sanger would hardly consider them reliable sources. He's not terrible likely to have a religious revelation though, all things considered.

"So we may have to relearn all there is to learn regardless." On that, they are in agreement.

"Is that Honedge your partner?" He asked her, shifting his body slightly to face the Pokemon. He's always liked Honedges. He hasn't bonded with one, but he likes them regardless. Most of them, anyway. This one may be an exception. He can't say why, and he's not going to declare his dislike of a Pokemon for no good reason, but the animosity being sent in his direction is clear, and if he weren't try trying to be the bigger man, he might very well have sent it right back.

"He is," though perhaps that confirmation is unnecessary, given the Honedge's behaviour, swerving very slightly from right to left as she tries to peer around him. "He was my first friend, and I trust him a great deal," she adds, though she's beginning to feel a little exasperated in a very short span of time.

Sophia certainly appreciates (or would, were she aware of) Sanger's restraint, as she reaches over to press fingers against Ymir's scabbard. He turns at once, still keeping Sanger in clear view, but evidently he's not best pleased by these turn of events. That makes two, if her frown is any judge. "That's enough, thank you. Mr Zonvolt here is an ally of Union, not an enemy."

Singular eye looks from human to human, but it's rather clear someone's not convinced by his trainer's argument.

"..We were attacked by one of the Ever Grande group when we were helping an evacuation group to the Shrines. If you'll forgive the pun, he's been on edge ever since." And that man's commitment to death - theirs, or taking his own if he failed - still haunts Sophia even now. But that doesn't excuse his rudeness here.

(Or, perhaps, he simply recognises Sanger as a different sort of threat.)

"Perhaps he views me not as Union's enemy, but yours." Sanger offers an alternative explanation, not terribly offended by the negative attention. He turns to return the Honedge's glare, not about to leap at the Pokemon, but readying himself for a possible attack.

"After all the previous excitement, to see his partner with a strange, armed man must be rather alarming." Sanger is self-aware, at least, but he's probably not quite right either. The instant discomfort between Ymir and himself in all likelihood has little to do with the state of Union, and the possibility of combat. No matter what they would be unlikely to be fast friends. That much, Sanger could sense.

"I had to help fight off the dragon myself, so I'm aware of the danger."

"Mine?" That earns a very startled look, moving her attention away from the Honedge a moment; he certainly looks less than pleased by that as well, but it's not like Sanger's entirely wrong. (Not completely accurate, but Ymir certainly sees him as an opponent, to start.)

"..A man, seated in discussion with me, who has given me no reason to doubt any intentions," she then corrects, straightening a little; it's not a scold, exactly, and he had given her reason to be at least a little nervous, but: "If you had truly intended my end, you wouldn't have wasted your time talking with me."

If anything, her expression turns a little more solemn when he mentions his own participation in last night's battle, and she shakes her head. "..Really, Ymir, you can stand down now." The Honedge looks rather offended by this request, and even more so when it's very evident that Sophia won't back down on the matter. Redoubling the glare, there's an almost indignant flip of his tassle before Ymir pulls away from them, floating off to haunt the far end of the wall ~~in a sulk~~ with intent to stay on guard. This earns a sigh from Sophia, but it doesn't appear that she'll be changing his mind tonight.

Don't think he's not watching you, though, Sanger.

"The Elite Four approached us with promises of friendship first too," Sanger points out the possibility that things might change at any moment, "I may be plotting something in secret or simply extremely capricious."

Of course, Sanger has little patience for secret plans and is anything but capricious, but how could anyone be sure of that after one meeting? He hardly blames Ymir for his suspicion. If it were Sanger, perhaps he might very well be acting the same way.

"I can promise you that I'm not, but even if I were, I'd want to convince you of that regardless."

There's a Look that very clearly reads 'you're not helping', even as Sophia straightens further, looking less relaxed and more like a statue as any hint of her earlier good humour slowly vanishes with the continued line of conversation. It was difficult enough being unable to use a warp band to better communicate with her pokémon allies and provide reassurance after the events of the past few days. She didn't need someone to disagree with her on top of that - and it wasn't like Ymir would thank him for siding with him regardless.

"I wasn't aware an amiable conversation with a stranger automatically made us friends." She's not cold, exactly, but it's clear that someone's point was received very very clearly - and whatever annoyance she feels is being carefully swept behind a mask of polite conversation. (Annoyance with him, for deciding to muddle matters? Or with herself, for having been long enough in a situation where such trust was automatically given thanks to the culture that was Union? ..Hard to say.) Sliding off the wall, there's a half-hearted swipe at her pants to wipe away dust, and the bulbasaur beside her snorts awake, made aware of her movement.

"As it was, I wouldn't trouble anyone to make such a promise. It's not my place - and even if it were, wouldn't someone making such a promise upfront simply make them more suspect?"

Sanger is obviously the most helpful person. If you need something hit very hard with a sword. In all other matters, the overly serious blockhead is more of a crapshoot, but even he can tell when he's annoyed someone when she's making so little effort to hide it.

"You're right. We are not friends." He rises to his full height, seemingly unperturbed. There weren't very many people Sanger would consider his true friends anyway, even if he would grant anyone on the side of good a certain level of courtesy.

"Feel free to suspect me, then. I'm hardly in a position to stop you." He's also a person who doesn't seem to particularly care what most people think of him, as long as they don't keep him from doing his job. It really won't help his case here, especially with the Honedge who's already inclined to hate him, but what's a man to do?

"In the end, actions are the only way to prove anything."

At 5'9", Sophia is not the shortest woman in the world, but she's easily dwarfed by Sanger. She doesn't appear intimidated by this - or, if she is, Sophia is better at hiding it, staring back up at him impassively.

Her brows furrow very slightly at his words. Actions are the only way to prove anything. Then, her gaze drops away, momentarily distracted as she turns to pick up the pidove still napping on the wall. "You're right," she murmurs, tipping the statement over in her head, before carefully adjusting the bundle of snoring feathers in her arms and turning back to him. Her expression softens, the slightest smile touching her lips.

"Thank you, for risking your life to fight that dragon."

Her point made, she graceful bows her head, then turns on her heel. "Good night, Mr Zonvolt." Ymir may radiate a certain smugness once she's in the Honedge's range, but Sophia hopes at least that it's clear that she doesn't suspect Sanger, whatever he says.

Edited 2016-02-24 22:00 (UTC)

Sanger's not trying to intimidate anyone, so he's thankful for that much at least. When he wants to scare people, he fully intends to leave them good and frightened for the rest of their short lives.

"I don't do what I do for gratitude, but you're welcome regardless." He nods with a small smile. He's not nearly so heartless as to blow her off completely, at least.

"Good night, Miss Nate." Sanger follows up, not quite moving from his spot just yet. For one thing, there's only one way down the hill. It would be rather silly for them to say their goodbyes then end up heading in the same direction.

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Elite Four Aftermath - In The Blizzard's Wake

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