batb part two: electric boogaloo

[fearlessly]

[ alisaie is not afraid of the woods.

truthfully, alisaie is not afraid of much at all - not the things that most are afraid of, at least. she does not fear the dark, or wolves, or bandits. she does not fear loud storms or knives in the dark of faerie tale monsters stalking haunted forests. what she fears is being along. grieving. losing those she loves.

and that is why she is here. alisaie has ridden tirelessly through the night, driving baptiste hard over the hard, wintry earth, her breath frozen in her lungs, the frigid wind stinging her cheeks and ears and eyes. alphinaud is her entire world. he is all that she has, all of her family that remains, and the thought of living her life without him, moving forward alone..

she would rather not move forward at all.

and so she will find him, regardless of he consequence, heedless of the potential danger, for without him, she has no life at all.

baptiste remembers the way, and though she can feel the tension and fear in the body of the horse beneath her, still they press on, hooves slamming hard into the earth, empty branches pulling at her hair, whipping over their heads. the forest seems to go on and on, deeper and deeper into darkness and mist, until at long, long last the space opens up, and a dark castle looms ahead, its twisted spires climbing into the gray sky, its gloomy edifice frowning down as she approaches the wrought iron gates choked with decayed vines.

alisaie is not afraid of much, yet still the sight of it sends a chill down her spine.

what is this place? she's heard of no such estate as this - a castle, so close to the village? how have there been no stories? no history? she has ridden less than a day to find her brother, not far from home at all, and yet.. there is nothing in their books about this great castle, no tall tales, nothing at all. it is a phantom. still, somehow it feels familiar to her.. like a memory of a dream's dream.

exhaling a shudder, alisaie slides from baptiste's back, leading him to an icy, overgrown brook for a drink, looping the reins over a strong, bare branch before at last she approaches the castle. it's silent, sinister, but she.. she has no choice. if this is where alphinaud is, then she must press forward. the rusted gates groan, splitting the silence, and alisaie approaches the great doors, the old rotten oak swinging beneath her weight as she slips carefully into the great, dark foyer. ]

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[punshots]

[ For all the strength and power behind this artificial body of his, the wind is fierce, the force of the storm strong enough that it has force through the doors, which has never happened before. Sure, maybe the wood of the bolt was aged and weak, but still — this is a storm unlike most he has reckoned with before. It's terrifying in its fury and rage, and that doesn't matter. He has to keep this castle and its inhabitants safe.

...But he cannot do it alone. Nor must he, because not long after his struggle begins, the castle's denizens join him, coaxed on by Alisaie's encouragement. But even as they join him in forcing the wood and metal of their unusual bodies against the door, that still is not enough. The storm is hungry, eager and wild. How can they possibly hope to fight it off? What will happen when they can't keep the cold of the winter out of the castle? He will have failed.

But just when things seem the most bleak and it feels like his body will go slack against the door, the wind begins to...ease. At first he simply thinks it is simple dumb luck, that the storm chose to relent right at the moment when they needed it to, but it takes no more than a glance over his shoulder and the sight of Alisaie there, weaving magic in her palms, for him to understand what has happened.

She...helped them? She helped him? When she could have taken this opportunity to run through the doors to her freedom? Sure, there is a storm beyond, but surely she could take her chances. She is resourceful. But, no — instead she chooses to stay, and she chooses to help.

Slowly but surely, with Alisaie's aid, Prompto and the other enchanted servants are able to force the doors closed, while a resourceful armchair pulls over a plant of wood to use as a makeshift bolt. With the door secure once more, the crowd erupts with cheers amid the snowdrift that still remains on the floor.

They did it.

Sagging back against the door, Prompto takes a deep, rattling breath, and sighs in relief. ]

[fearlessly]

[ it is no easy thing, attempting to tame a storm of this magnitude - it fights her endlessly, it does not want to ease, but she coaxes and coaxes, and soon enough its excited energy begins to wane, bored of arguing back and forth, the buffeting winds lessening until at last the loud boom of the doors slamming shut again breaks her concentration enough that she lifts her head and opens her eyes. the storm is still strong, and it will remain strong, but the castle and, more importantly, its denizens, are safe. as far as she can see, there is no splintered wood or shattered china on the floor..

speaking of which. the teacup in her collar wriggles free at last, hopping into her hand where it squeals a high thank you! before bouncing once or twice on her palm, and hopping to slide down the snowdrift with a howl of excitement.

alisaie sighs, dismissing the glyphs of light that still hover near her fingertips, and plants her hands onto her hips, surveying the damage. there's snow everywhere, and the wind has tossed about papers and (actually inanimate) items, leaving the foyer looking more disastrous than usual. ]

What a mess..

[punshots]

[ It sure is a mess, though hey, it gives the servants something new to clean up, at least??? Not that any of them will be worrying about that tonight. Instead, they should just enjoy their victory over the storm, and that they all, collectively, were able to protect their home. Some of them may not like it here, or want to be here, but it is what it is, and as long as they're in it together...

...but gods, how long has it been since they have had such a coordinated effort to do something on that scale?

As the servants begin to dissipate once more, chattering excitedly to one another and thanking Alisaie as they go, Prompto catches his breath, and looks up at her once more.

She is...extraordinary, isn't she? He knew it wasn't uncommon for Elezen to wield magic, but still, he has never seen her do something like that before, and to force back a storm of such magnitude...and for the sake of them, for this castle.

The moment of silent lingers, and still he doesn't rise to his feet — he lacks the strength to. But at last, he speaks up. ]

...Thank you.

[ Without her, things could have gone much, much worse. ]

[fearlessly]

[ a thanks is.. certainly not what she expects to hear. alisaie does not answer right away, only looks to him in mild, muted surprise, before she lifts her hands, and shakes her head. ]

It was nothing.

[ she might not entirely trust or like him, their relationship is certainly complicated, but there are innocents here, gentle, kind people(?) who would she would not see injured. what happens to them, if they break in this form? what if a cup shatters, or a chair is dashed to splinters? could they be repaired? would they be.. gone forever?

it isn't worth the risk to find out. ]

Now, are you going to get your big arse off the floor and give us a hand, or not?

[punshots]

[ He huffs that not-quite-laugh sound again, before he is rising to his feet at last, lumbering over to help Alisaie and the staff begin to clean up the hall. This could have gone so, so much worse than it did, but it didn't, and it's thanks in no small part to her.

He...doesn't know what to make of her. But, gods...she is extraordinary. ]

Oh, I suppose...

[ There's as close to the sound of a smile in his voice as he can manage, and while he doesn't sound happy, exactly, he does sound...relieved. Lighter. ]