[ The old-young sage is back and in good hands with Urianger and Ithaqua (or the other way around), but Ginger, who has been itching to join the battle and contribute more than just the very little he has, decides now’s the time. The sage gets a distracted nod and smile from him, but Mika’s the one who has his attention. ]
Shall we, my love? [ Between the two of them, Mika’s the fighter. So he suggests a plan, hashed out in murmurs between the two of them.
There’s a lot going on in the air when Ginger flies them out through the window: lightning and darkness, water and heat, gravity upturned and so many swords - and from below hands itching to drag this scant leftover of a man to hell.
He flies them even higher than that, where it feels like they could touch the Heavens, where he’s always been the most comfortable with his power, and then -
One by one his mirrors - his barriers - spiral below them like a staircase of cards. A crimson ratio of red, the carpet unrolling for… ]
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Shall we, my love? [ Between the two of them, Mika’s the fighter. So he suggests a plan, hashed out in murmurs between the two of them.
There’s a lot going on in the air when Ginger flies them out through the window: lightning and darkness, water and heat, gravity upturned and so many swords - and from below hands itching to drag this scant leftover of a man to hell.
He flies them even higher than that, where it feels like they could touch the Heavens, where he’s always been the most comfortable with his power, and then -
One by one his mirrors - his barriers - spiral below them like a staircase of cards. A crimson ratio of red, the carpet unrolling for… ]