05-26-2018, 07:21 PM
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BRIGITTE.
låt proffsen sköta det här || speech || info
// here’s a oneshot of Brigitte practicing her conjuring powers just before sparring with Reinhardt back in Dungen just to get some creative juices flowing. this takes place some time before she was found in Ascendant territory
Another day in Dungen.
Brigitte woke from her slumber, passion burning in her heart, as was the norm for the spunky young lioness. She stretched, arching her back into the air, and inspected her flail for anything that could have harmed it during her sleep. The rats in Dungen were pesky creatures, gnawing at anything they could find with their sharp teeth. It’d be quite the bad news if Brigitte woke one day with a few wires cut.
She padded over to her Crusader friends, already awake and eating some meat that the caretakers left out for them to feast on. She sat down and pulled a steak for herself out of the pile of flesh. Beside her was the gargantuan, well-aged Reinhardt, a West African lion who led the Crusaders. She bowed her head in respect to her mentor. He returned the favor, bowing with a warm smile.
“Up for a little sparring, Reinhardt?”
Brigitte brushed her burnt red mane to the side, holding it in place with her hair clips. She stuffed the steak into her mouth, savoring every bite. She may have been a fit lioness, but she loved to eat. “My flail’s feelin’ a bit lonely. Perhaps you could acquaint it with your face.” Her and Reinhardt chuckled, his raspy laugh echoing across the Dungen territory.
“You’re on, Brigitte! Show me what you’ve been working on. I’ll go easy on you.” He winked at her with his blind eye, the parted battle scar on his eyelids meeting briefly. “This old lion still knows a few tricks.”
Brigitte and Reinhardt met in the middle of the Dungen sparring grounds and prepared for battle. The concrete floors of what was once a swimming pool was cold to the touch, chilling Brigitte’s large paws. Reinhardt was as stoic as ever, ready to watch his favorite apprentice impress him. ”Try to conjure your armor, Brigitte. You need a bit more practice with your powers. Remember to feel where your armor is with your mind. You do know where it is, right?”
Brigitte concentrated on the position of her armor and closed her eyes momentarily. Her armor was sitting in her den idly by, waiting for its knight to wear it. Brigitte looked back up at Reinhardt. ”Should I conjure my shield as well?”
”Focus, Brigitte! One at a time! You don’t want to stress out your mind.”
Got it.
Brigitte closed her eyes again, focusing on her ironclad garments. A fizzle of magic surrounded Brigitte, and the shape of her armor was slowly beginning to take form around her. She could feel her mind being worked at the core, energy building up and clouding her head with charge. ”Good job! Now, release the built up energy in your mind!”
Sweet release.
With a spark, the iron armor suddenly surrounded Brigitte, and she found herself nested inside her shell comfortably. The silver coat’s sheen reflected the sun’s light in a mesmerizing yet blinding fashion. It was a beautiful sight to behold.
”Excellent work, Brigitte! You’ve gotten much better at your conjuring powers. Your armor doesn’t look so bad either, like you’ve been diligently taking care of it. Your papa would be proud.” Reinhardt sneered jokingly. ”Too bad it’ll have a few scratches and dings once we’re done here!”
“You’re on, old man! Lemme just —“
Brigitte focused again on her den. Inside was her plasma shield, made by her father himself.
Suddenly a small shield-shaped aura appeared around Brigitte’s arm. Reinhardt looked at her proudly as she began to conjure.
Release.
The shield appeared, wrapped around her arm in all of its glory. “Okay, now I’m ready!”
Reinhardt chuckled loudly, conjuring armor of his own around him. Brigitte had forgotten how large of a cat he was with his armor on. It would be very intimidating, if only she didn’t know about the soft-hearted Crusader that wore the armor.
A large hammer and shield appeared in the arms of her opponent. Reinhardt’s helmet closed upon his head, preparing to engage Brigitte in combat.
”Let’s get this done!”
Another day in Dungen.
Brigitte woke from her slumber, passion burning in her heart, as was the norm for the spunky young lioness. She stretched, arching her back into the air, and inspected her flail for anything that could have harmed it during her sleep. The rats in Dungen were pesky creatures, gnawing at anything they could find with their sharp teeth. It’d be quite the bad news if Brigitte woke one day with a few wires cut.
She padded over to her Crusader friends, already awake and eating some meat that the caretakers left out for them to feast on. She sat down and pulled a steak for herself out of the pile of flesh. Beside her was the gargantuan, well-aged Reinhardt, a West African lion who led the Crusaders. She bowed her head in respect to her mentor. He returned the favor, bowing with a warm smile.
“Up for a little sparring, Reinhardt?”
Brigitte brushed her burnt red mane to the side, holding it in place with her hair clips. She stuffed the steak into her mouth, savoring every bite. She may have been a fit lioness, but she loved to eat. “My flail’s feelin’ a bit lonely. Perhaps you could acquaint it with your face.” Her and Reinhardt chuckled, his raspy laugh echoing across the Dungen territory.
“You’re on, Brigitte! Show me what you’ve been working on. I’ll go easy on you.” He winked at her with his blind eye, the parted battle scar on his eyelids meeting briefly. “This old lion still knows a few tricks.”
Brigitte and Reinhardt met in the middle of the Dungen sparring grounds and prepared for battle. The concrete floors of what was once a swimming pool was cold to the touch, chilling Brigitte’s large paws. Reinhardt was as stoic as ever, ready to watch his favorite apprentice impress him. ”Try to conjure your armor, Brigitte. You need a bit more practice with your powers. Remember to feel where your armor is with your mind. You do know where it is, right?”
Brigitte concentrated on the position of her armor and closed her eyes momentarily. Her armor was sitting in her den idly by, waiting for its knight to wear it. Brigitte looked back up at Reinhardt. ”Should I conjure my shield as well?”
”Focus, Brigitte! One at a time! You don’t want to stress out your mind.”
Got it.
Brigitte closed her eyes again, focusing on her ironclad garments. A fizzle of magic surrounded Brigitte, and the shape of her armor was slowly beginning to take form around her. She could feel her mind being worked at the core, energy building up and clouding her head with charge. ”Good job! Now, release the built up energy in your mind!”
Sweet release.
With a spark, the iron armor suddenly surrounded Brigitte, and she found herself nested inside her shell comfortably. The silver coat’s sheen reflected the sun’s light in a mesmerizing yet blinding fashion. It was a beautiful sight to behold.
”Excellent work, Brigitte! You’ve gotten much better at your conjuring powers. Your armor doesn’t look so bad either, like you’ve been diligently taking care of it. Your papa would be proud.” Reinhardt sneered jokingly. ”Too bad it’ll have a few scratches and dings once we’re done here!”
“You’re on, old man! Lemme just —“
Brigitte focused again on her den. Inside was her plasma shield, made by her father himself.
Suddenly a small shield-shaped aura appeared around Brigitte’s arm. Reinhardt looked at her proudly as she began to conjure.
Release.
The shield appeared, wrapped around her arm in all of its glory. “Okay, now I’m ready!”
Reinhardt chuckled loudly, conjuring armor of his own around him. Brigitte had forgotten how large of a cat he was with his armor on. It would be very intimidating, if only she didn’t know about the soft-hearted Crusader that wore the armor.
A large hammer and shield appeared in the arms of her opponent. Reinhardt’s helmet closed upon his head, preparing to engage Brigitte in combat.
”Let’s get this done!”