[Ardyn isn't the only one swinging a ridiculous greatsword one-handed. At some point, the Blade of the Mystic clashes against another massive weapon, this one longer and broader, sending up a shower of bright sparks. The ringing of the royal arm on holy steel is loud and high, almost unnaturally so for such an impact, as if the metal of the strange blade is singing for a brief moment.
The hand clutching the white and gold sword remains steady, as heedless of the weight as Ardyn is of his own weapon. The wielder is a tall, slim boy, paler than the Glacian but for eyes that burn as scarlet as Ifrit's darkest flames. Those eyes watch Ardyn closely, too keenly intelligent and far too old for such a youthful, androgynously beautiful face.]
I'm not a threat.
[Maybe not to Ardyn or anyone else but a homicidal monkey, but if the Chancellor can sense power he'll find it in spades in this boy. Dark, seething, nearly as virulent as Starscourge in its hatred. Yet the youth is outwardly calm, not betraying even a hint of the endless, wordless scream inside him.]
Never be sorry
The hand clutching the white and gold sword remains steady, as heedless of the weight as Ardyn is of his own weapon. The wielder is a tall, slim boy, paler than the Glacian but for eyes that burn as scarlet as Ifrit's darkest flames. Those eyes watch Ardyn closely, too keenly intelligent and far too old for such a youthful, androgynously beautiful face.]
I'm not a threat.
[Maybe not to Ardyn or anyone else but a homicidal monkey, but if the Chancellor can sense power he'll find it in spades in this boy. Dark, seething, nearly as virulent as Starscourge in its hatred. Yet the youth is outwardly calm, not betraying even a hint of the endless, wordless scream inside him.]