Day 7 - Remember

Two chapters in one day? Impossible. -laughs-

Takes place in Awakening.

The Einherjar observed the battlefield, the blue aura around him wavering as he watched the enemy advance. Thy were powerful, and rapidly striking down the soldiers that had been sent here with him, most of them crumpling after the first blow with no chance to dodge or attack first. He frowned, running a hand through his hair in distaste. A distant, nagging voice at the back of his mind reminded him that he couldn't die, being nothing more than a spirit from a card, but one further back still screamed at him to run, to return, to try to find his way back home.

But that home was no more, as far as he knew. A part of a long-gone past, he was nothing but a copy of a man long dead.

The grip on his iron bow tightened as one lone myrmidon approached him with a blue light hanging around him, similar to his own, a long-range healer standing by just out of his bow's range. The phantom assessed the other one, finding that he was a bit more powerful than the opponent in front of him. But he had a healer backing him, and that wasn't to be forgotten. While he was observing, the other attacked, a quick slash that he was barely able to dodge, and still managed to graze the red tunic, which gave little to no protection. Hurriedly jumping back, he notched an arrow and let it fly, hitting the sword-wielder in the left shoulder. A cry of pain, before the swordsman gritted his teeth and pulled it out- Farther back, the archer briefly saw the healer lifting his staff and casting a Physic, healing his adversary.

Drat. Any hope of himself winning was thrown out the window. The brunet myrmidon charged forward again, assaulting him with a barrage of blows, while he himself did his best to defend and evade, and possibly do his own share of damage, even though he knew this was futile, considering that blasted healer lurking behind the wall with that damned Physic stave. This was, in no way, going in his favour.

Slamming his left fist in the archer's gut, the myrmidon sent the red-clad man stumbling backwards before falling to his knees, winded and in pain. He wheezed and grimaced, before glaring upwards at the brunet, who froze, a brief flash of recognition flashing across the dull eyes characteristic for an Einherjar.

"Who are you?" He asked, lowering his sword for a moment.

"That is none of your business. Now finish what you have started and end this now." The archer spat, blond locks falling in front of his face in disarray. He brushed them away, before bracing himself for the blow that was to come.

Except that it never came. Only a hand was offered to help him stand up. The blond stared at it in confusion- He didn't understand, why was the other offering help even though he had brought harm upon him?

"You are the enemy, I am your adversary. Why do you offer your hand to me?"

"You... I think I might have known you. Besides, we're of the same kind and origin, so I guessed-" The myrmidon paused, looking the other spirit up and down. "Never mind. So, are you up for joining our group?" Grinning, he gestured over to a white-haired tactician conversing with a blue-haired lord. The scene somehow seemed familiar to the blond, as if from an age long past- But he couldn't put his finger on why it seemed that way.

And that grin... He swore he knew that grin, too, better than he perhaps wished to. And at theat moment, the wish to find out who this brunet is began gnawing at him. Was he linked to the man he was based off of?

Perhaps. The only way to find out was to join this ragtag group of people, he supposed.

"Very well then. I might as well come along."

He could've sworn that the grin on the other's face grew ten times happier at hearing the news as he waved the tactician and blunet over. After a few hushed whispers, the lord then turned to the blond archer with a smile.

"Welcome aboard, Leonardo. We're the Shepherds."

Edward.

Edward.

That was the name of the Einherjar who had managed to recruit him. Edward.

The archer, utterly confused, held on to this name in his times slumbering within the cards. His only link to the past.

He had to remember at some point.