EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

[aionmods]

The Empty Throne Pt 2

ESCAPE

As more and more of the prisoners awaken to the Pleroma's power, it soon becomes clear that conflict is inevitable. Strength that was locked away blossoms once again, and simply waiting is no longer an option; those that remain in the cavern have made their choice, and they will not be kept there so easily.

By means that may not be immediately apparent, the Pleroma have found themselves able to cast a spell that will ensure their freedom... but only if they can last the half hour it may take to complete. Whatever this power, Xishen, the Aion orchestrator of the Kenoma's ritual, seems able to sense it. As it begins, she will appear at each of the Kenoma's sides.

"The Pleroma has taken hold of them," she says. "Stop them now, or when you see them again, it will be as your mortal enemies. If you believe in the Kenoma's promise, take a stand. The Regent is watching."

For those that heed her, it will not be hard to find the congregation of Pleroma, the first seeds of their teleportation magic taking form. What's more, the fires of their hope have been stoked by this new chance at survival, granted them a surge of energy born of the Pleroma, compensating for the poor state of their bodies. The tension comes to a head, between those that would follow the Regent's path towards a better universe, and those that would seize the wild power of the Pleroma to escape.

Whatever violence ensues, eventually it will come to an end. Despite the Kenoma's efforts, the teleportation spell will come to fruition, enveloping the Pleroma in a sea of light and warmth. The Kenoma can only watch as fractals of blinding color whisk the Pleroma away.

VALLEY OF INNOCENCE

You will find yourself at the Shrine of the Innocent, surrounded by a valley of flourishing wildflowers. As you step from the shade of the monument, you will find your arrived here just in time to enjoy a warm spring spring morning, the sound of birds and gentle breezes tickling your ears. The sun slowly drifts past the horizon, its rays reaching out to you, as if in comfort. The air itself is alight with a strange aura of peace, as if committing violence here would be a sacrilege. There are no man made structures as far as your eyes can see.

Flowers of all shapes and sizes can be found here, and so can fresh water and various fruits and berries. All of them are safe to eat, and seemingly grow in abundance. There are animals here as well, all the common types one would expect from a place like Earth, with the occasional odd addition. While you can try to hunt them, you will find yourself unable to follow through on any attempts to hurt the creatures here. In turn, they regard you as familiar, and will fearlessly wander close as they inspect these new arrivals. In the distance, you may even catch sight of what appears to be a unicorn, only for its ephemeral shape to disappear from sight just as quickly.

The Pleroma will find safety and comfort here for a time, before they recover enough to travel onward. At some point during the afternoon of the first day, they may spot the occasional humanoid figure moving in the distance; when attempting to move in their direction, they will find an assortment of clothing set out across the grass as if in offering. It will come in many sizes but in mostly plain colors, fitting a general aesthetic of 'things a fantasy peasant might wear'. There will also be some blankets, wrapped cheese, jams, jerky, and bread left alongside them.

While there are trees and brush enough to find shelter, the Pleroma will find they hardly need to while resting here. The weather will be picturesque, a comfortable temperature even at night, and there will be no disruptive rain or aggressive wind. Of course, nothing lasts forever, and even though there could stay here for days, what if the Regent's forces are on their way? Once again, they must find the strength to carry on.

THE TRIWATER

As the Pleroma vanish, those claimed by the Kenoma are left in the darkness of the throne room. The Hylician soldiers are clearly agitated by the fighting, but Xishen herself seems unflustered. She will only sigh before quietly coming to the aid of any Kenoma that still need it, providing some light healing magics and explaining that their work here is over. With the Pleroma gone, all that's left to do is to return to Achamoth.

Things move quickly from there. The camp grounds are packed up, and soon enough the Kenoma will be ushered towards the river at the edge of the forest, to board a particularly large river vessel. As the Hylician soldiers prepare to go their separate ways, you will be told that you are to take the Triwater river to the capital city of Achamoth, where you will finally meet your new master, the Regent. The vessel is big enough for all of you, and it will set off the moment everyone is boarded. Suddenly, the world of entrapment and ruins you've been living in since your arrival will be left behind, leaving you to ponder the nature of your future.

The boat itself is well equipped and comfortable for what it is. A variety of colorful hammocks are hung in the lower decks and are open to be claimed for the journey back, which will take a day or two. The Kenoma will be offered a change of clothes of a similar style to what they already have if necessary, and there are plenty of blankets and cushions available to make life in the hold more comfortable. There are dice available for games of chance as well as some mystifying decks of cards that seems to have twelve suits with five cards each, themed around the Legacies. The twelfth suit is for the Regent.

Though the sailors controlling the vessel will mostly keep to themselves and leave the Kenoma alone, one of them will occasionally play harp music on the deck. Though they probably don't actually need help running the ship, they will let the Kenoma help them with chores and ship running tasks if they are so inclined; generally speaking, these sailors just seem like normal people, albeit a bit shy of their passengers. If you're polite to them, they may even gives you a river tour of Horos. On this ride alone, you'll get to see several magnificent bridges spanning the Triwater's width. At night, you are treated to a clear spring sky filled with stars.

As you make it closer to Achamoth, you'll notice the landscape shift, becoming mountainous and dotted with more and more military watch posts. The land becomes increasingly lifeless in a way that's hard to put your finger on, nature giving way to man-made creations of impressive architectural prowess. Soon, you will meet the person behind it all.

QUESTIONS

Can my Kenoma character fight against other Kenoma and/or help the Pleroma?
Yes, though if you do this you must describe what your character has done in a reply to the "Committed Actions" top-level below. This way, the mods can be aware of what happened and have your character treated accordingly. They are unlikely to receive immediate consequences if they don't hurt their fellow Kenoma, but their choices will follow them into Achamoth. If a Kenoma vs Kenoma conflict escalates into serious violence (attempted or successful) committed by the Kenoma rebel, Xishen will intervene and consequences will happen immediately which may restrict their actions until the next event post.

Can our characters leave the valley?
They can, yes, but really this event is just meant to cover the day or two they spend recovering before finding a more permanent place to go. You are free to have your character investigate the valley and probe the spaces beyond it, but please save any plans for large scale travel to the next event, which will be happening on April 2nd. The game will move into a 1:1 time ratio as of then.

Can our characters leave the boat?
Technically yes, but any Kenoma who wander too far will get in trouble. You are expected to report to the Regent, and behaving as if you are considering doing otherwise will not make an good impression.

Does the hope-based Pleroma boost last into the valley?
The boost to Pleroma characters will fade shortly after arriving in the valley, like coming down from a high. They'll have to recover the normal way from there.

Comments

for KIM DOKJA.

[epiprocta]

[ The start of the conflict finds Gen lurking at the edges, gazing warily at all the chaos unfolding before him. -- this place really doesn't stop being ridiculous, does it? 'Take a stand?' Really? How the hell is he supposed to intervene in all this bullshit? Not knowing what else to do, he'd filched a shield and a sword from one of the guards, but the blade remains in its sheath and he only holds the shield loosely at his side as he surveys the skirmishes starting to break out, the sounds of shouts and clashes echoing off the cavern walls.

A clenched-jaw exhale before he glances back towards Xishen; not like he wants to be reduced to that creepy woman's obedient underling, but it really feels like failing to at least play along would be a bad idea. ... right?

-- it's a sudden flicker of movement at the corner of vision that catches his attention, and Gen jerks around to face whoever's come running his way. Recognition immediately has his gaze sharpening, and though his posture remains neutral, there's a slight shift as he grips harder at the shield. ]

... it's you. [ Said with a note of unabashed derision as he stares at Dokja. Not that he even knows the guy's name. All he knows is -- ] What, did you wanna get snuffed by me that badly?

[salvageable]

[ When all hell had broken loose inside the cavern, Dokja hadn't had much time to think about anything other than protecting the casters. But after a rough start, he's found that the fighting has mostly dispersed to other corners of the place, away from threatening the people securing their escape.

So that leaves him with an opening in his fighting schedule.

He skids to a halt before the very person he'd been searching for, the boy who had made an impression hard to forget. Maybe it was the amount of abuse doled out or maybe it's the unpleasant reminder of what Gen represents for Dokja. Either way, he's here for one reason only. ]

Kid, I think you're mistaken about something.

[ It's then that Dokja shoots forward with an inhuman speed, as if carried by the wind, his hand outstretched as he aims to grab the boy's throat, mirroring certain actions from before. ]

I'm just here to pay back what I owe.

[epiprocta]

[ Of course. How had he forgotten?

There isn't a single goddamn normal person in this place.

Still young and bristling with adrenaline, Gen's animal instincts are sharp and his reflexes are good -- but not that good. He does automatically tense and steel himself when he hears that odd edge to Dokja's voice, so different from the listless, weary tone he'd employed just a few days ago; his gut instincts tell him that he should be on guard, so he is. But even that's not enough to save him how quickly Dokja closes the distance between them, that blur of movement followed by the feel of fingers at his throat.

For a split second, he freezes. Throat working beneath Dokja's grip as he gives a hoarse exhale, gaze flickering with a touch of anxiety.

-- then he reacts. Impressively quick for an untrained teenager, but nothing that special. And his movements remain crude and undefined when he lashes out with that arm holding the shield, aiming to knock Dokja's hand away from his throat as violently as necessary so he can back off a pace or two. ]

[salvageable]

[ Being frustratingly human for a few weeks had been so incredibly debilitating, all the strength and speed he'd painstakingly worked his ass off to gain just gone in an instant.

But now that it's back, it's hard not to let loose. He scales things back, uses only a fraction of what he normally would against his opponent. This isn't an apocalyptic catastrophe or an ancient god-like being he's facing. This is a teenage boy. Dokja's not that unhinged.

So when he sees the shield come up from the corner of his eye, he meets the blow head on, swinging his already outstretched arm to the side to knock the shield away from him. There's no hint of a flinch, nothing that would indicate any pain from colliding his arm with the shield, and again, using only the amount of strength necessary for this moment.

There's a gleam of satisfaction lighting up his gaze that matches his delighted smile. It would've been boring if there was no fight back.

With one fluid move that seems almost practiced with how easily it's done, he turns and angles himself to slam his shoulder against Gen's chest.

What the hell are they making kids so tall for these days? ]

[epiprocta]

[ There's some poetic justice in how lashing out with the shield ends up being to his detriment. Gen's unused to the weight of that clunky thing, and when Dokja bats it away with shocking ease, the heft of it magnifies the recoil of his arm until it strains all the way up his shoulder and he loses his grip on the handle; there's the clatter of metal as it goes skittering away across the uneven ground.

He's barely had a chance to realize what's happened before the triangle point of Dokja's shoulder slams into his sternum and knocks the wind out of him.

It's a meager testament to his fortitude, to his sheer experience when it comes to fistfights and scraps that he manages to stay standing instead of getting bowled over. Even as he staggers back two, three paces with a ragged gasp, Gen stays stubbornly upright and the shock in his gaze is quickly giving way to fury. ]

You're doing this as payback? [ His retort is spat out acrid and sharp even before his breaths stop coming in uneven rasps. ] -- then do it properly!

[ Maybe there's something admirable about his gumption when he lunges forth the next moment, fist aimed at the point of Dokja's chin despite the clear difference in fighting experience between them. Maybe. But mostly, it's kind of a stupid move. ]

[salvageable]

[ What a scrappy guy... What fierce tenacity! That Gen remains upright is certainly commendable, and Dokja's smile widens into a pleased grin.

As annoying as this kid is, as much as he reminds Dokja of his (especially) unpleasant past self that he wants to have left behind, there's no helping the way he's always taken a shine to people who don't give up.

The kind of people he's wished he could be.

That doesn't mean he'll let Gen get in the hit, though, and Dokja pulls back out of the way with barely any room to spare. The fist grazes just past his chin, a light brush of air following up soon after. That was close. In fact, a little too close. ]

You're better at this than I would've thought.

[ Forgive Dokja for cheating a bit as a sudden, forceful gust of wind seemingly appears out of nowhere to try and knock Gen off of his feet. ]

[epiprocta]

Shut up!

[ No, he absolutely will not be forgiving Dokja for whipping out that magical bullshit, because it catches him completely off-guard.

The missed punch he can deal with; the momentum of it does pull him off-balance, leaving his middle unguarded and vulnerable, but he can usually compensate for that. Unfortunately, even if he shifts stance to steel himself for a punch or a knee to the gut, that does nothing to guard him from the sudden blast of wind.

It knocks him completely off his feet as Dokja had hoped, dumping him heavily to the ground, and it turns out having the air knocked out of you for the second time in so many minutes is harder to bounce back from. Gen's left disoriented and breathless for a moment before he can even think to try and scramble back to his feet, and even then his movements are a little stilted.

The furious glare he directs up at Dokja hasn't flagged in the slightest, though. ]

[salvageable]

[ While he admires the amount of effort Gen is putting forth, Dokja's not trying to prolong this friendly(?) undertaking between them. He wants to get back to the casters as soon as he's able in order to anxiously hover over them, part of him aware that he's wasting his time here.

Really, it's too bad he's this petty that he went out of his way to pick a fight with a teenager.

But if they're going to part ways, he might as well say goodbye.

He's quick to follow after the fall, his hand darting out to clasp around Gen's throat to firmly keep him down, the press of his fingers a promising threat, while Dokja's knee moves to pin itself against the boy's chest. Appearance-wise, there's nothing about the man to suggest that he's strong, but it can be felt now in the weight of him, in the vice-like grip of his hold. ]

Settle down.

[epiprocta]

[ Unfair. This is unfair. Gen tries to jerk away the moment he feels fingers around his throat once more, as soon as he feels the pressure of a knee bearing down on his chest. Dokja's hardly a big man, skinny and shorter than him, and there's no real technique to the way he's being pinned down -- it should be easy for Gen to rip himself free.

Key word being 'should.' Because it isn't.

Gen huffs for air as he tries to dislodge Dokja's weight from atop him, but the mindless fury in his gaze colors with a tinge of confusion when his attempt accomplishes precisely nothing. It feels a bit like he's been nailed to the ground by a boulder for how solid and heavy Dokja's grip is, and he's left thrashing haplessly to try and free himself, boot soles scraping against the rough terrain as he fights like an animal caught in a snare. ]

-- are you even human, you freak?!

[ Case in point, regardless of the vulnerable position he's in, Gen continues clawing and yanking at Dokja's arm, furiously trying to dislodge fingers from around his neck. Maintaining that enraged glare the whole time. ]

[salvageable]

[ This is particularly cruel, even for him, Dokja thinks as he gazes down at Gen with a mild look of interest. He watches as the boy thrashes and claws at an iron grip that won't give, passive at first, before something in his mind snaps and disconnects.

It's just for a split second, but in that short duration of time the fingers around Gen's throat clamp down dangerously as a nameless occurrence seems to come over Dokja. His eyes shake, breaths coming in hard, and it's like he sees someone else under him.

And then it's gone.

The change disappears just as suddenly as it had appeared, and he instantly eases his hold, no longer squeezing like he wants to drain the life out of the boy. He's left staring, disturbed by the shift that had overcome him, before he forces the right state of mind to jostle its way back into place. What was that? He'll have to discover for himself another time. ]

No, [ he finally answers, a shameless smile on his face. ] I stopped being human a long time ago.

[ He draws his free hand back, curls his fingers to form a fist, and, using just the right amount of strength so as not to cause lasting damage, sends it flying toward Gen's face. ]

[epiprocta]

[ It's a good punch. Dokja's knuckles slam into his face right at the base of his nose, the impact hard enough to snap his head to the side and make his ears ring as his whole body jolts beneath Dokja's weight. He can taste the familiar copper tang of blood, too, where he's cut the inside of his mouth against his own teeth. And it hurts. Of course it hurts. Already the dull static of pain blooms through his skull, pooling dull in his jaw and lingering sharper against his tongue.

But more than any pain, more than any injury, what really sparks the gleam of loathing in his eyes is the way Dokja had looked at him before landing that blow.

He knows that look. Knows the way pupils dilates and focus dims as a person looks past another, like they don't even matter. Knows it far too well. And the knowledge that the finger-shaped bruises bound to linger at his throat aren't even meant for him is more infuriating than any punch could be.

There's little warning before Gen wrenches himself up, practically choking himself against the grip at his neck just so he can spit in Dokja's face. ]

Look at me. [ His words come thready and wet, slurred with mingled spit and blood, and breathless from the way he ignores the press of palm against his throat. It really is pure fury driving as he snarls at Dokja, ] Look at me if you're hitting me!

[salvageable]

[ Maybe he's still out of it, but he barely reacts when Gen spits in his face, just drags the back of his hand against the mess on his cheek before slamming the boy back down against the cavern floor, keeping his arm rigid and straight to prevent it from happening again. Ah, so it was noticeable that he had went away for a moment there... Well, no matter. He's back to himself now.

He holds Gen in place like he's a troublesome child, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth in a chiding manner. ]

What are we going to do about that temper of yours?

[ It's mostly muttered to himself, but there's no indication that it actually bothers him. Now that Dokja's accomplished his single punch, he really doesn't have any more reason to keep at this. They're even now, right? No hard feelings? ]

It wasn't personal, you know? [ Says the man who really went through the trouble of finding Gen to deal this one blow. ] Don't hold it against me.

[epiprocta]

[ Whatever furious words he would have spat out next catch in his throat as Dokja slams him back down, and Gen's left coughing and hacking on his own spit for a moment. Not that that puts even the slightest damper on the sheer rage he's practically radiating, and it only intensifies when he hears Dokja's blasé comment. ]

Fuck you.

[ No, he will hold this against Dokja. And he sure as hell is going to take it personally, obvious in the way he grabs at Dokja's arm hard enough his nails leave lines of red in their wake. ]

I hit you more than once. Do it properly if you mean for this to be payback. [ 'Weak,' Dokja had called him, and the thought of this 'payback' being half-assed out of some sort of twisted pity is infuriating. ] Do it like you're trying to kill me, you piece of shit!

[ 'Have you ever killed someone?' More than anything, that casual question from Dokja is what he'd hated. So if Dokja wants to return a few blows, fine. But he'd better address that same question himself. It's not fair otherwise, is it. ]

[salvageable]

[ What's another few lines to a myriad of scars already littered across his arm? Take it out on his arm, claw off his skin if Gen has to, it's fine. After all, Dokja's selfishly using Gen for his own reasons, the spiteful, demonic parts of him still not satisfied with the cruelty he's inflicted on the boy he sees too much of himself in.

He wants to know more about him. The source of this anger, the misery he's suffocating himself in. Does it feel like Dokja's own? Does it hurt as much as Dokja's pain? How visceral and honest his reactions are... What stories must be held within this child?

His other hand comes down now to join the first at Gen's throat. They position themselves a little higher up on the neck, to the point where he can practically cradle that furious-looking face with the tips of his fingers. It could almost be considered an affectionate hold if it weren't for the strength bearing down on the boy to fix him in place. ]

You couldn't do it for me, [ he says with a sharp bark of a laugh, nails biting into the soft flesh under his grip. ] Why would I do it for you?

[epiprocta]

[ The added pressure of a second hand against his throat earns a fresh round of struggling; Dokja might have to bear down harder to keep Gen in place despite the way he thrashes against the ground hard enough to scuff up his own clothes, boot soles scraping against the ground as he kicks and jerks. Even the clawing at Dokja's forearms intensifies as Gen spits between ragged breaths, ]

You think I couldn't?! You weren't worth the effort!

[ The fury in his inflection hasn't waned in the slightest, but Dokja might notice the anxious way Gen's gaze flickers towards Dokja's arms for a moment, his throat working hard beneath the press of palms, the way cold sweat beads at his brow. Because even as he invites the prospect of death upon himself, he can't help being a little scared. Dirt rustles and scrapes beneath them as Gen haplessly tries to crane his head away from the brush of Dokja's fingertips, and even as his breaths tighten into shallower rasps, he's sure he means it when he snarls, ]

Get your hits in now, 'cause I'm gonna kill you the next time I see you!

[ Maybe saying this will get the guy to really try to kill him. Wouldn't that be nice. Maybe. Isn't that what he'd been wanting before ending up here, anyway? -- he's not even sure any more. ]

[salvageable]

[ It's an impressive struggle that certainly keeps Dokja on high alert. He's almost a bit worried about how he's supposed to depart now that his business is done, the ferocity pouring off of the boy in waves showing no signs of abating. He'd hate (well, not hate) to have to resort to drastic measures, but if it's necessary...

The smile never once leaves his face even as he listens to the threat. What's one more person wanting to kill Kim Dokja? ]

I'm looking forward to it.

[ He doesn't know where it is he and the others who withstood the sickness are headed, but he imagines he won't be meeting the other side in some time. Unlike many of his companions, he hasn't foisted any close feelings toward the newly adopted Kenoma, so it's no skin off his nose to see them separated. Even so, he thinks he'll be a bit sad not to be able to keep tabs on Gen. The kid's kind of fun to have around.

Dokja removes one hand from Gen's neck, holding it up in a show of good will even though his other hand compensates by clamping down harder. See? He's done. No more hitting despite the boy urging him to. He really had just come here for one solid punch to the face, after all. ]

Stay down until I'm gone or I'll break both of your ankles.

[epiprocta]

[ He's always found catharsis in anger, in violence, in those singular ways he could maintain any control over his life -- which makes it all the more maddening when he finds himself utterly defanged at Dokja's hands. The fact Dokja seems to treat his furious threat as little more than a joke has his blood rushing so fast and so hard through his veins that he can hear it in his ears, a dull roar that almost drowns out that casual threat.

He remains in place as Dokja starts backing off not because he's afraid of having his legs shattered, because honestly, he can't even bring himself to think about the consequences of his actions any more. He remains in place only because he thinks he stands a better chance at immediately hurting Dokja through the use of underhanded methods.

Gen exhales roughly as he feels one hand peel away from his throat, but offers no rebuke; he only glares up furiously at Dokja as he withdraws his own hands to brace them against the ground. Certainly, his shoulders are squared with tension and his jaw's clenched taut, but that's only because he's still boiling with unresolved fury, right? Not because he's about to do anything stupid?

-- haha, as if.

Is Dokja really surprised that, when he starts to rise, there's immediately a blur of movement as Gen lashes out -- fingers gripped taut around a piece of rubble that he tries to smash into the side of Dokja's knee as hard as humanly possible. Aiming to topple Dokja so he can get his hands on the man's face to claw his eyes out, smash his head into the ground, tear his face to shreds. Hurt him.

And hey, he technically 'stayed down,' didn't he? ]

[salvageable]

[ No one ever really listens to Dokja, so this was honestly the only outcome possible.

Even on high alert, even with his gaze trained on Gen, it still isn't enough. As soon as both hands are off the boy and Dokja moves to stand, the piece of rubble slams right where it had been aimed, the pain searing but not unbearable due to the nature of his inhuman body. It does, however, cause his leg to buckle and give out from under him, a surprised grunt the only noise that slips past his lips.

But before Gen can descend on him, a vortex of wind shoves its way between the two, whipping wildly at the air surrounding them, and then bursts outward, the forceful gale throwing either side away from one another. Dokja lands lightly on his feet some distance away, though it's plain to see that he's favoring and leaning most of his weight on the uninjured leg.

The real accomplishment is the smile that's been wiped clean off his face. ]

Nice trick.

[ The compliment is an especially dry one, and Dokja is at war with himself. A part of him wants to make good on his threat to break Gen's ankles, his fingers itching to snap bone and tendon. It would be so easy, just a single push from Way of the Wind and he'd be right there. To make it more excusable, it's not like it would be a fatal injury. He could do it, he could do it, he could do it...

But he doesn't move forward and the effort of holding himself back sees his hands shaking. He'd come here for one reason only, he reminds himself over and over again. And he'd accomplished it. ]

[epiprocta]

[ The moment he sees the blow land and Dokja buckle, Gen's focus is entirely on reaching up, on trying to tangle his fingers into Dokja's hair, on clawing, mauling, tearing, causing as much damage as he possibly can while he has the chance.

Which leaves him completely unguarded for the gust of wind that follows.

It's an incredibly disorienting sensation, suddenly being thrown by what feels like a solid wall of air slamming into him, and the impact catches him completely off-guard. Dokja might have landed gracefully some distance away, but Gen is afforded no such dignity. There's the scrape of dirt and grit as he's flung bodily across the uneven cavern floor, the breath knocked out of him when a piece of rubble catches him right below his ribcage, and even once he comes skidding to a halt a short distance away, it takes him far too long to realize what's happened.

Does it make it easier or harder for Dokja to hold back, seeing Gen struggle to even raise his head from the ground? He'd knocked his head against the ground before coming to a halt, and it takes him far too much effort just to drag himself onto all fours. His first attempt to haul himself back to his feet has his vision swimming wildly, and Gen groans as he sinks back to the ground, breathing in uneven rasps between shallow coughs. ]

... 'm gonna kill you.

[ Oddly enough, that mumbled threat is probably the first time Dokja might hear Gen sound his age. After all, it's hard keeping up his usual delinquent affect when he's dizzy and breathless. Still sprawled across the ground, disheveled and dirtied and sniffling from a bloodied nose, Gen properly looks like what he really is -- a frazzled teenager completely out of his depth. ]

[salvageable]

[ It's a sad sight to see, isn't it? If Dokja thinks so, it doesn't show in the impassive way he stares at Gen, black eyes steady as he watches the boy try to pick himself up before returning to the ground. But there is something there in that hollow gaze and it flickers, for a moment, toward the direction of where he'd last seen the Aion.

He'd be a hypocrite (more like further cemented in his hypocrite status) if he thought anything of her bringing a powerless teenager into this sort of place. After all, he'd done the same for his own war, even recruited children not yet in their teens to fight his battles for him. But he'd done it with the knowledge of their potential, of what they could do for him, and so he wonders what it is that's being seen in Gen.

Whatever it is, he'd rather it appear sooner rather than later. He doesn't know what's in store for all of them in this strange world, but having experienced what they have in the past few weeks, Dokja's certain that they'll never be far from danger. And while it's not concern that squeezes his chest as he returns his attention to the boy on the ground, there's something unpleasantly adjacent to it. ]

Someone as weak as you can't kill me.

[ Consider it motivation masked in a taunt. For now, he steps back as he glances toward where the fighting has picked up near the casters. He's needed elsewhere. ]

Do your best to stay alive.

[ Or don't. He tells himself it's not his business. Anyway, with those encouraging words, Dokja turns on his heel, summoning the wind to him to return to the thick of where the battles are commencing, leaving Gen where he is. ]