Chapter Text
"This hand of mine glows with an awesome power! Its burning grip tells me to defeat you! TAKE THIS! MY LOVE, MY ANGER, AND ALL OF MY SORROW! ARC BLADE!" I screamed as I shoved my hand through the chest of the Simurgh.
The wailing, popping screech of the bladed fistful of lightning in my hand died as it sucked out the last of my mana. I leant my forehead against my ugly Simurgh statue as it disintegrated into fading motes of light.
"Did you get it? Show me!" I turned and hurried expectantly to Norman who was filming with my phone.
He held it out at arm's length and hit play. Really, besides the utter ear-rape of my Arc Blade it was a good video, and most importantly, made me look hella cool.
"I can do some sound mixing so we can hear you properly," he said, dragging the time slider back to somewhere near the start. My smooth, clear voice could be heard briefly before being muffled by the 'bandsaw fucking a live cable' whine. "I'll have to cut you looking at the camera at the end anyway."
"Actually," I stroked my armsbeard thoughtfully. "Leave the sound as is, leave it all as is. This is the real shit the people are after, that raw, uncut, unwashed reality."
"If you say so," he handed me back my phone. "I've never bothered saying anything on my Ward accounts that I didn't have to."
I swatted him on the shoulder, "you leave it to me, chief, I'll get this shit posted right."
Norman grinned savagely, "Bastion won't even punish us for this I bet, like, who the fuck is going to stick up for the Simurgh, man?" He laughed. "We should do this for every Endbringer."
"I feel that," I tossed my phone at an angle, making it spin diagonally before catching it. "I feel that feeling deeply…" I trailed off.
Maybe I should transfer here, it was certainly a lot more fun than Brockton, and with fewer Germans.
"Hey, Rey-Rey!" I called across the room. "Is it ready yet, I just had a brain blast."
Tyrone looked up from his phone, "s'been ready the whole time."
I set off at a stride, noticing Norman was giving me an 'I guess I'll just go fuck myself then' look out of the corner of my eye as I disregarded his entire existence the moment something else came up. Fugg. Oh well, too late now, I'll do better next time.
"Bring it forth," I quoth, gesturing grandiosely with an arm. "Show me the beast."
With a roll of his eyes, a perfect replica of my ugly Simurgh appeared glorious technicolour and all, and flipped me off. It began to soundlessly break-dance, wings clipping through the wall and floor as it ground out a sick windmill into a L-kick. The Simurgh air flared, it's airtime tubular, before slowly floating to the floor and settling back into its usual upright posture.
"This Simurgh is too gnarly."
It flipped me off again as Tyrone spoke. "So you figured out how to make that distorted bass-drop meme sound?"
"Absolutely, almost. I've been working on it for ages but the super-vibrato change in electricity mana of my Arc Blade just gave me some insight, which in hindsight was totally obvious. I won't go into it, but suffice to say that when I get this I can throw us a rave any time, anywhere. Shit will be fukken neato," I held my hand up, feeling the mana pulsing under my skin like a second heartbeat. I slowly wiggled my fingers, playing with the colourless energy, feeling it play off itself, directing the currents. A low pitch whine started up, the kind that gave your teeth fur. A second tone began atop the first, higher and wobbling as my mana vibrated against itself-
"Nailed it," I said, and made that bass drop.
Tyrone clapped his hand over his face to muffle his unflattering snort of a laugh, "oh this is going to be so good, you have to start dabbing in public with that!"
And I wanted to. I really wanted to. Really, really wanted to. And maybe I would if the situation called for it and it would be funny, rather than at random like I had in the past. Sure, I'd thought it was hilarious but looking back on it…
"Dabbing is for faggots, that's why we're making the Simurgh do it," I sneered at him. "And if I'm wrong, may Behemoth strike me down in a foreign country in six months time. God bless the Triumvirate."
"Too soon, man," Tyrone hung his head to stare at the gleaming white tiles. "They're not even back yet."
I rubbed at my Armsbeard, flaring CHA for a second so I could feel bad about myself.
"Sorry."
Tyrone shrugged.
"Sorry," I said again.
"Ngl smh tbh fam," he said. "Lets just do the thing though, what did you want to have her say?"
I told him the quote, he agreed it was hilarious.
"Not sure what voice to give her," I said, and cleared my throat. "Because it can't be a good voice, I was thinking maybe Midwestern accent with a valley girl pattern and vocal fryyy," I dipped into the voice as I spoke. "But like, crossed with a fat person. Make her sound real stupid."
"Works for me! Run through it a couple of times so I can get the lip flaps synced right."