In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
Shattered Grimoires is the work of the mind(s) of Ardere & Shattered Grimoire's staff. All characters and content are copyright their creators, and may not be replicated without their creators' permission. Black Clover is owned by Yuki Tabata and published by Viz Shonen Jump. All images belong to their original owners. The theme you are currently viewing was made by Eliza of ElizaCodes exclusively for Shattered Grimoires.
It was slow and competing, like a river trying to push past a gorge of rocks and spike's.
But even so, there was recognition in his lips twisting into a fainting smile as the passion of hatred was quick to drain like, someone had put a hole in a river.
The bubbling pain was dissipating, the hefty glob taking with it a few more rushes of pain as it slid down his skin, cleansing the drying and fresh streams of blood as it made like raindrops to his body with pools forming at the base of his feet.
He was gracious enough when it came tot the book being returned, he wasn't in the best shape to do much himself. Defeated enough to allow the book to sit there until the morning light beckoned him. If it was to wakefulness or to the hereafter he hadn't yet decided yet. If it was his to decide to begin with. Though he was quick to pocketed his grimoire. It had a definitive stained copper to it's outside and he wasn't exactly thrilled with letting everyone from this side of the world and the next learning the true status of his Grimoire.
'Knowledge can be just as powerful as reputation'
It was a line he remembered hearing long ago. And while it didn't fully apply. It did apply to something specific. Maybe spiking his grimoire at problems more often might solve more issues. Maybe. He'd have to test it out more often. "Hitting with the wide trickin' with the spine" he spewed out his words at least slowly drizzling away from a collective mess of nonsense. Partially. At least Mania added the right question.
He gave a nod, he was partial to a dip still, as if his spine was just a little too weak to support his own head. "Head and mouth, connecting weird word wrong stuff. Arm slither chew." He felt like a drunk with the curse of sobriety in only his mind, but at least for now he was standing even if it was a little too weak for his liking.
Connor regarded the men with a contrite demeanour, although he had nothing against them, he only had so much to go on. Really, it was a thing of strange coincidence that they had even met in the circumstances they had. Grasping at straws was something Connor could appreciate, certainty was a commodity that few could afford but was an easy enough resource to provide. Given that the man was compliant Connor felt as though they could communicate with some difficulties, but words were difficult for the man so Connor cut him some slack. Not everyone was an academic or proverbially astute at getting their meaning across. Being that he was no stranger to a lack of understanding, he figured that he would give not complicating things a shot. It obviously meant a lot to the man, so Connor listened without interjecting anything or stirring himself to frustration. As far as phantasms we’re concerned, the enigmatic nature of the three men was drawn into question, not one of them had introduced themselves. So much for civility. Although, rationally it seemed a poignant idea to do so, Connor figured that introductions would; if at all, be exchanged later. “Mystery is abundant these days.” He gestured towards the other guy subtly not wanting to offend his sensibilities.
Aeneas offered up more words in a confusing order that left Mania with nothing gleaned. At least it seemed he too understood his communication was sorely lacking right now, but from what the rogue could discern he was in fact hurt. Though to what extent Mania could not say as he stepped in closer to inspect Aeneas. Mania was thinking he may have had a fracture on his spine from the way he was sitting upright - barely able to keep his posture straight. The rogue was no doctor and out here in the elements and wilderness they would be hard-pressed to find anyone. Mania also wasn't a healing mage and if the rogue had to put his money on the other being one, Aeneas would be in for a long, painful night.
The most he could offer was to make sure he would be at least somewhat comfortable, but even that would be harder done. This was still quite the precarious situation Mania had found himself in. Three men in the woods late at night didn't often end as a simple meeting, but something much darker and heinous. Mania was hoping that would not be the case as he saw the cuts and scratches Aeneas had sustained. He wasn't bleeding much, but still, any blood drawn was cause for alarm.
"I agree, you wouldnn't happen to be a healer?"
A shot in the dark beneath the oblique filtered starlight that filtered through the canopy above. The stranger was far from reaching any understanding from Aeneas, that much was clear. Mania was starting to think his mind had been playing tricks with him and that Aeneas did not know the other. Still, the notion was buried somewhere deeply rooted like cancer. Mania would continue his inspection should Aeneas not mind his hands sifting about his person. Once he finished if allowed he would stand back, unsure what more he could possibly do.
"You think you can stand? Can't have you just laying about the dark. " WC: 334 TWC: 3,004
That familial ache everyone had experienced in their lives at least a few times, almost to remind them they were alive than to let them sink into the woes of unconsciousness, though Aeneas was at the precipice of wishing unconsciousness would just take him to give him a few lax moments. But that little voice that rattled off in the back of his mind told him on repeat.
Do.
Not.
Die.
It wasn't welcomed but like a cruel truth it had to stay. But unlike it, Aeneas had to move. He didn't wait to find out if the out and proud Rogue Connor was a Healer, he had to move. In the distance he heard another rotation of the vultures. The gravel kicked up. The dirt shifted beneath footprint and the low growl of a golem ruptured the air. But something else grew in the distance. The sound of branches bending, over burdened by heavy weight. It was distant yes, but they were starting to tighten their circle. Like a Shark slowly wrapping around a source of blood.
Aeneas was quick to give a nod to Mania. It was difficult, and he shuffled a hand through the ground to find purchase of a loose branch and using it like a pole to slowly whisk himself back up and matching eyes with Mania. "Dying but not dead. Slither doing that for the busted one." His words gurgled out as he coughed up something in the dark. He scanned the area shortly, his head wasn't working straight but looking up to the vortex swirl of stars he put a thumb up, it helped a little, the swirl of stars seemingly straightened by something to help measure them before lowering down his thumb. Once, twice, thrice. He was hesitant but he pointed eventually and slowly started hobbling in the direction. It was eastwards. Slightly deeper into the small patch of forest that littered the wildlands.
