>>6051946But no, the gentle flame of the flower burns with a heat that inflames your heart, runs through your veins and pushes against the invading chill from the wound. No. No, this was nit meant as a mournful gift, at least not yet.
“She has told me to give it to you. It’s the best I can do… Argia… are you still there? I can’t see you anymore.”
The wave touches the skin of the sea and it explodes into a rising crown of foam. You slowly start to fall into the water.
“Yes! Thank you! I will see you again!” And then, in a rush of bravado, of hope, of faith: “Day will come again!”
“Argia!” Soralisa calls one last time, the foam washes over you, turning everything white and then—
You are laying on the floor once again. The pain and chill is back — each breath feeling talons raking against your ribcage. The acrid and metallic taste of blood in your mouth.
You look at your right hand. It’s holding your weapon and atop it, the burning bloom sears its kind, light into the room, pushing away the white flickering glow of the candle-lit men like the spring flood cleans the rot from the riverbank.
Its warmth fills you. The hulk covers its face, the rictus of his grin turning uncertain. Wonder if he has ever seen the light of the sun? But now a tiny bead of that light has come right here, into the depths of the Seven Sisters’ domain, and it is affirming its right to be there. To help you, one last time.
You are not alone.
With one final effort, you raise on your feet and push yourself in one final charge, pushing your sword towards the dazzled monster, aiming for his chest just like he did with you, the blooming flower at the tip of your sword, turning the white edge into a searing blade of red and gold.
You push against the Night, one last time.
>Bo3, roll 3d100+19+66 (the bonus provided from Ansàrra and delivered by Soralisa, total 1d100+85). DC 120Don't tell me you forgot about your first friend, anon. 