STATS & SUMMARY
HP | 400/400 |
MP | 400/400 |
Speed | 40m/s |
Strength | 40 |
(Melee Damage) | |
SP | 1 |
(Spell Power Multiplier) |
ITEMS ON HAND
N/ASPELLS USED
N/ACOMBAT SUMMARY
Damage Taken: | N/A |
Healing: | N/A |
MP Used: | N/A |
Buffs: | N/A |
Other Notes: | N/A |
~ |
Step.
Spin.
Flare arms out, bring them in in a V over the eyes.
Step back, one, two, three, four, fi-
Illya stumbled over her feet. Yemaya's head craned slightly as the idol stumbled in her work. Illya had the beat down perfectly, she had each and every note of the song running perfectly through her head in time, she had accounted for how her voice would sound during the dances, when there were instrumental solos in the song, where the crowd would be, what they would look like, everything. Now all that mattered were the steps. She was a skilled dancer, for sure, her connections towards music bolstering her agile feet and lithe frame to make her as skilled an idol as anyone could ever hope to be. Her only problem was her being the only idol in her group. Well, that and her inexperience on any stage outside of local venues, but that was something that was quickly fading.
But something was off today. Her internal rhythm was occasionally met with waves of interference, her feet would stumble upon nothingness. Maybe it was simply the jitters of being in more high profile concerts in the upcoming weeks and months? Maybe it was her body telling her she needed to work on another song? Her routine was new, otherwise she would not have been practicing it. What was wrong?
"Ughhhh this is going nowhere, Yemaya!" Illya finally said, flopping onto the ground in defeat. "I'll work on the routine tomorrow or maybe the day after? I dunno, just not today. Not feeling it today."
Yemaya sighed, the powerful voice of the Aviaku ringing in her head. Just ensure that you do not completely forget, Illya.
"Try an' lift your feet up a li'l bit more on step five on that backup steps,
Laerwen advised. "You're trippin' up a wee bit, mostly over your own ankle. Need to float a bit more on the steps, almost make each a li'l hop 'ere and there. I know you're capable of this, Illya, just work on it."
Laerwen's addition made Illya sigh even more. "Thanks for the advice, Laerwen. I'll work on it later, but I've already got it noted in my head to try to float a bit more. Lighter on the feet and all that. Well, it's fine. I'm just not feeling it today. It's real lazy here in Amber Island right now. The higher ups are all doing stuff, so it's basically up to the officers to handle thing-" A realization came to her mind and Illya kipped up to her feet. "I got it! I know what I'll do today! I'll go and talk to Aoi! Us officers gotta be good friends, right? I mean, how would it look if the third highest tier of worker within Dies Irae had members that didn't get along! I mean, the Ambassadors and the Commander all get along really well, so why not me and Aoi! Let's go, Yemaya and Laerwen! Aoi, here comes Illya!"
Illya sprinted out of her room, not even bothering to put shoes on, looking absolutely ridiculous in her idol attire. Her bare feet slapped upon the stone floors of the halls of Dies Irae's guild hall, the God Slayer already mapping the layout of the hall in her head to find Aoi's room. Far away from her own room, far away from somewhere that Illya was sure the strange raven haired girl would find much too loud. Laerwen and Yemaya were much slower to follow after the excitable rosy haired idol, taking their time in making their efforts towards the room of the other officer, likely already planning their apologies.
Illya's legs pounded to a halt at the onset of the door to her fellow officer's room, and she was prepared to enter when a strange noise began bubbling through. Was it... crying? The seldom heard voice of the officer became audible as Illya's hand paused above the doorknob. Suddenly it clicked. Why Illya was struggling through the day. The sound of crying, the mumbles of defeatism, all of it suddenly crashed to a head like a wave pounding against an unsuspecting sand castle. Illya's hand trembled more and more as she opened the door to see something she had hoped she would never see.
Her fellow officer, impaled upon a sword.
WC: 0726 | TWC: 0726