The Dance of Life
Title: The Dance of Life
Game: FE8
Word Count: 469
Characters/Pairings: Tethys, kind of Gerik/Tethys, with mentions of other characters
Warnings: None :)
Game mechanics used: Tethys' dance ability, and stat growths
The arrows were flying fast. Spells hurled in every direction. They were pinned down, no where to go. Tethys had to think. Natasha and L’Arachel healed as fast as they could, but their army was surrounded.
Gerik lead the charge, but she could see that his blade was brittle. A few more attacks and he would be defenseless. His shoulder bled through his leather armor. She noticed how his footing was off; two missteps, left foot unsteady and shaking. Gerik’s greatness was the strength of his arm, not the swiftness of his feet.
The healers would never make it on time.
Tethys twirled, glided, and bended out of harm’s way; the fire soared behind her back, a javelin nicked the edges of her braid. Arrows flew under her legs, around her arms without even coming close to touching her. Speed was her gift; she was a lucky gal, but her natural agility, the stamina from her dance was all she needed. Tethys smiled as the enemy missed her at every turn.
His shoulder kept bleeding. He was staggering. Tethys wound her way to the front lines, Innes and Ephraim shouting retreat commands in the background. She ignored them. Gerik glanced her way, panic etched on his face.
“Chief! Hang on, I’m coming!”
“What are you doing? You’re going to get killed!” Gerik parried a lance strike. His shirt was ripped, streaks of blood lining each cut. The aches from his body showed on the lines around his eyes. Tethys swirled her ribbons around him, the red fabric dancing around him like lights. The enemies struck at him and missed; the fabric alluring their blades away from his skin.
“Focus your eyes on me, Chief. Relax, I’m here and no one will touch you,” Tethys twisted the red streamers in maddeningly fast circles, the enemy trying to see where to aim their attacks.
The sway of her hips and the lines of her legs moved through the air about his body. The energy of her movements, the life in her eyes stirred a strength in him. Gerik raised his sword above his head and brought it crashing down on the mage in front of him.
“General!” Tethys screamed. Seth turned her way acknowledging her. “Get him out of here, he’s wounded.” Seth nodded and galloped into the fray.
“No--”
“Don’t argue, I’ll be fine.” Tethys winked at him as Seth hoisted him up on his horse. Seth waited, seeing if she would come with him, but Tethys waved him away.
She felt eyes on her back; a mage took aim. The fire bloomed in his hand but she didn’t flinch. She was use to fire, the heat of the sands of Jehanna and dirt roads of the markets were hotter. It struck at her feet, and she was not burned.
Game: FE8
Word Count: 469
Characters/Pairings: Tethys, kind of Gerik/Tethys, with mentions of other characters
Warnings: None :)
Game mechanics used: Tethys' dance ability, and stat growths
The arrows were flying fast. Spells hurled in every direction. They were pinned down, no where to go. Tethys had to think. Natasha and L’Arachel healed as fast as they could, but their army was surrounded.
Gerik lead the charge, but she could see that his blade was brittle. A few more attacks and he would be defenseless. His shoulder bled through his leather armor. She noticed how his footing was off; two missteps, left foot unsteady and shaking. Gerik’s greatness was the strength of his arm, not the swiftness of his feet.
The healers would never make it on time.
Tethys twirled, glided, and bended out of harm’s way; the fire soared behind her back, a javelin nicked the edges of her braid. Arrows flew under her legs, around her arms without even coming close to touching her. Speed was her gift; she was a lucky gal, but her natural agility, the stamina from her dance was all she needed. Tethys smiled as the enemy missed her at every turn.
His shoulder kept bleeding. He was staggering. Tethys wound her way to the front lines, Innes and Ephraim shouting retreat commands in the background. She ignored them. Gerik glanced her way, panic etched on his face.
“Chief! Hang on, I’m coming!”
“What are you doing? You’re going to get killed!” Gerik parried a lance strike. His shirt was ripped, streaks of blood lining each cut. The aches from his body showed on the lines around his eyes. Tethys swirled her ribbons around him, the red fabric dancing around him like lights. The enemies struck at him and missed; the fabric alluring their blades away from his skin.
“Focus your eyes on me, Chief. Relax, I’m here and no one will touch you,” Tethys twisted the red streamers in maddeningly fast circles, the enemy trying to see where to aim their attacks.
The sway of her hips and the lines of her legs moved through the air about his body. The energy of her movements, the life in her eyes stirred a strength in him. Gerik raised his sword above his head and brought it crashing down on the mage in front of him.
“General!” Tethys screamed. Seth turned her way acknowledging her. “Get him out of here, he’s wounded.” Seth nodded and galloped into the fray.
“No--”
“Don’t argue, I’ll be fine.” Tethys winked at him as Seth hoisted him up on his horse. Seth waited, seeing if she would come with him, but Tethys waved him away.
She felt eyes on her back; a mage took aim. The fire bloomed in his hand but she didn’t flinch. She was use to fire, the heat of the sands of Jehanna and dirt roads of the markets were hotter. It struck at her feet, and she was not burned.