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They dodged and wove through the air, magic triple natured as their thoughts arcing around them and drawing the soldiers away. Fire and ice together never would have made for a peaceful nature, let alone the crackling rage of thunder arcing between them. They do not think anyone considered that they might ever be on the side of peace in this. Though Fire sometimes thought of hearth and family, that came to ash with the war and the others have not voiced it in an age. They are all violent, but not prone to cruelty.
They were not exactly sure what was happening, at first. Never truly sure, but their magics combined with some vile spell from the knights meant to trap them, and then...
It was not ice, exactly, that they found themselves trapped within. Ice would have been so much easier to deal with, Ice could have dealt with their own! But its nature feels much the same - harsh, imprisoning and cold enough to slow even their racing thoughts. Those at first were filled with rage, at the war and the traitors that started it, at the arrogance of humans thinking to trap them, any of them. As their temper cooled, those thoughts shifted to grief, slowly. Friends lost, family, lives that should never have been shattered..with those thoughts come fire that is not their own, and the first touch of other minds that they had heard in an unknowable amount of time.
Moogles, of all things! Of all people, but of course the explorers would come. They did so love to travel and build, to find new things and make new musics. They dig out and around Valigarmanda, hollowing the stone that had covered the ice. They sing in their own soft language, telling Them of what has transpired, the slow healing in the world of the scars left by the war. Of humans’ loss of the technology that had killed so many, and their slow climb back towards it. Eventually they have to admit they have no power to break the cursed cage of Valigarmanda’s trap. The mourning in their singing thoughts would have brought them to tears as well, if they had been able.
It is so clear they can see everything around themselves, and surely anything that came could see them. The thought is terrifying at first, but as the years begin to feel like ages and no one comes but the moogles... well. There are worse fates, surely, than to have no company but the thoughts of moogles. They could have no company but themselves.
They could have been so wounded as to have no company at all. Better, then, the dancing firelight of the torches and the going to and fro of the moogles. Better to sleep in a sense, for years at a time, only rising to see if they could damage the spell, or if the moogles had learned something new to break it...
Until the girl. Blended in her nature in a way that could easily become something like Valigarmanda themselves, and yet nothing at all like themselves. This had happened before, in the old world, but so so rarely. And the girl did not know what she was, because filthy human technology had been used to shut her out of her own mind, and that quickly the rage comes roaring back.
That quickly Thunder arcs in a way it should not, still constrained by the trap. They cannot reach her as they should be able to, but they are able to do ...something... to the soldiers by her, able to reach something inside her that responds. And then ,i>explodes, as she cannot reach herself still, and there is quickly nothing but the twisted shell of the cursed machine and the girl lying unconscious before them.
All they can do is reach out to the moogles, asking for their help to get the child away before her captors can return. When they have, one calling himself Mog watches for a moment, before turning to Valigarmanda with a pain in his eyes that they know means nothing good. Still, after a moment’s pause to brace themselves they ask what must be asked.
~the War?~
~Is coming again, kupo.~