Chapter Text
There was a presence in the darkness up ahead. Ominous and formidable.
Her pace slowed. Beside her, Arcadion stopped entirely, grin deepening as he tilted his head far beyond what would have looked comfortable on a human neck.
“I think we are not alone,” he stated.
“Yeah,” the Avatar agreed. “I think you’re right about that.”
Enilno bled into her hand, its blade a shimmering silver sliver of light in the darkness of the cavern.
A face emerged from the darkness ahead, broad and leonine, for all that it might have appeared too pale and too flat, and framed by a shagged auburn mane. Impressive wings arched above its back, casting a shadow over the cavern walls from what light the quickblade cast, and the outline of its tail was poised dangerously between them.
“Oh. Well.” Holding the quickblade out in front of her, the Avatar slipped her hand into the pouch at her side, feeling for what reagents she had left by touch. Not good. “That’s... still better than a Balron.”
“Is it?” Arcadion wondered aloud.
“I mean... if it kills me, you can drag my ass back to find a healer someplace. No chance of that with something that can obliterate my soul.”
“And why would I ever do such a thing, pray tell?”
The Avatar took her eyes off the creature only long enough to shoot the demon at her side a withering glare.
“Arcadion, this is not the fucking time.”
“Truly, give me one good reason,” there may have been a faint note of amusement in his voice, “And let us not fall back on the power of friendship again; I for one find it most dreary.”
“Entire universes ending, asshole – where you gonna find another planeswalking hero on such short notice?”
Arcadion hrrmphed.
The manticore narrowed its eyes, and moved guardedly towards the Avatar.
Arcadion stepped between them. The creature snarled and pivoted for him, and he gave a startled cry as its tail lashed down, pinning him to the ground.
The Avatar blinked.
As they growled and spat at one another, she held the sword aloft, squinting at the creature’s notched ear. With an incredulous chuckle, she grinned.
“No fucking way!”
Arcadion disintegrated, and the manticore turned its attention back on her. Without hesitation, it padded right up to her and bumped its forehead into her like an overgrown housecat.
“Ginsing!”
Arcadion reformed, mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste as he smoothed his hand over the hole in his chest; flesh and muscle reformed, and he flicked the ichor off his fingertips. He then fell to watching the Avatar scratch the manticore’s mane, and cleared his throat.
“Care to explain?”
“It’s the power of friendship, you wouldn’t wanna hear it,” she remarked, before going right back to babytalking a monster with a reputation for its mankilling prowess. “Look at you! Look how big you got!”
“Ugh,” Arcadion opined.
The Avatar opted to ignore his opinion.
“Hey, you know – with wings like these, I bet Ginsing could fly us up that mountain to that temple.”
“I have wings,” Arcadion reminded her. “I could fly thee.”
The Avatar leveled her gaze at him. “You explicitly told me you couldn’t.”
“Perhaps we spoke of different things.”
The Avatar rolled her eyes. With a soft growl in the back of his throat, Arcadion moved closer and reached for her arm.
“As poignant a reunion as I am certain this must be-...”
Ginsing snarled at him again, raising its tail.
“Aww, don’t pay any attention to him, big guy; he’s a sanctimonious prick.”
Arcadion sputtered his indignity, and vanished in a puff of smoke.