Fatality ━━ Matt vs Chris Sturniolo²

𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎. The Battle of Corvium

[ tw: violence, death ]

𝖝𝖝𝖝𝖎. The Battle of Corvium

Maeve

THE WIND HOWLS. It buffers the walls and ramparts, blowing more than a few back from their position. Rain freezes on the stonework, making their footing precarious. The first causality is a fall. A Red soldier, one of Heyward's. The wind catches his jacket, blowing him backward along the slick walkway. He shouts as he goes over the edge, plunging thirty feet ━ before sailing skyward, born of a gravitron's concentration. He lands hard on the wall, colliding with a sickening crack. The gravitron didn't have enough control. But the soldier is alive. Injured, but alive.

"Brace yourself!" echoes down the lines of soldiers, passing between green uniforms and red. When the wind roars again, they buckle down. Maeve tucks herself against the icy metal of a rampart, safe from the worst of it. A windweavers' strike is unpredictable, unlike normal weather. It splits and curves, clawing like fingers. All while the storm tightens around them.

Blake shoves in next to Maeve. The Deuveux glances at her, surprised. She's supposed to be back with the healers, to form a last wall against any siege. If anyone can defend them from Silvers, give them time and space to treat their soldiers, it's Blake. The rain makes her shiver, her teeth chattering.

"All right, lightning girl?" she says with some difficulty. Water drips over her face.

"All right," Maeve murmurs back. "What are you doing up here?"

"Wanted to see," she says, lying. The young girl is here because she believes she has to be. Am I abandoning you? she asked before. If she doesn't want to be a killer, she shouldn't have to be.

Maeve shakes her head. "You protect the healers, Blake. Get back to them. They're defenseless, and if they go down ━ "

Blake bites her lip anxiously. "We all do."

They stare at each other, trying to be strong, trying to find strength in one another. Like Maeve, Blake is soaked through. Her dark lashes clump together, and every time she blinks it looks like she's crying. The raindrops land hard, making them both squint as they pelt down their faces. Until they don't. Until the raindrops start rolling in opposite directions, flowing up. The pair's eyes widen at the exact same time, watching with horror.

"Nymph strike!" Maeve screams in warning.

Above them, the rain shimmers, dancing on the air, joining together into larger and larger droplets. And the puddles, the inches of water in the streets and alleys ━ they become rivers.