#//so props to you oomfie. thank you for your asks as always

[swiftscion]

“ You wanted my stamina, right? ”  He wasn't sure if he was remembering correctly, but he does vaguely remember something like that from back when they had been competing against one another for that fitness seminar. It seemed as if ever since coming to Fodlan, the two of them were competing in some way, now that he thinks about it. Rivals. He hadn't expected that kind of relationship with the Isaachian princess, but it's not one he feels any need to revoke either. He thinks they're doing just fine as they are.

And so when the day of the Winter Festival comes, he comes bearing a gift for her. A bottle wrapped in a silver ribbon trades hands from his to hers, but instead of any alcohol, what is in there livens the spirit in a slightly different way.

“ It's not the same, but here. It's an S Drink. ”  She had given him something rare as a present once, so here he was doing the same. He's not sure anything he could give would compare to the treasure of good news her Verdanite gift had been for him his previous birthday, but he tries nevertheless in his own way.  “ My army used these when we needed to push ourselves beyond our limits. If someone was fatigued, they'd drink it and be able to go into battle just fine afterwards. ”

In their darkest hours, this had been the thing to save them. And now he was passing it onto Larcei.

“ If you want to keep training and getting stronger, then this should help. And when you're the strongest you can be, come to me, OK?? ”

Because he wouldn't want to miss it for the world.

S Drink, huh? Doesn't Leif know that pulling the ace out of his sleeve will leave him defenseless in his most desperate hour? Larcei handles the offered bottle with a practiced hand, swirling it from its head to give the contents a healthy mix. She goes wordless at first, just hunting around in Leif's eyes.

What could this mean? Does he not think he'd need the S Drink's advantage to best her; is he hoping to see her at her highest peak so he could savor bringing her plummeting back down? The bronze twins on his face are shields, revealing nothing and concealing everything. She just has to trust that this is what he'd mean, as her friend, as her competitor.

And she smirks.

Larcei would have it no other way. This belief of Leif's--that he can take her at her strongest--is something to be excited about. It's fuel for her furnace, a shovel of dust to power the cosmic engine in her star. "When that day comes," she warns, though she still wears her wicked smile, "I'll wipe you for good. You'll regret even thinkin' you could match me at my best."

His words filter through her head a second time as she eyes the drink. This thing could save her life, if the prince has even one honest bone in his body. Thinking back to all the times she pushed herself to her limit, borrowed power from beyond the grave--fought even after burning out--she devises a number of ways she could put this to good use. This S Drink, that she now pockets, becomes her lifeline.

Leif comes into view again.

"'Till then though, you can't give in. And I'll make sure of that." An arm crosses over her chest, balled into a fist at the end. It's swearing an oath of some sort. Though nonspecific, the heart behind it is very real. "What you gave me might save my life, so I'm savin' yours in return. Leif, you've got my promise as a warrior of Isaach that I won't let you fall." Her fingers clench tighter as the words permeate the space between them. They leave their lingering taste for a second of silence, during which Larcei's eyes flutter shut. This is something serious. She can't have Leif catch her goofing off.

Once it's over, she pats him on the shoulder with a friendlier air about her. They can go back to being buds.

"At least, not until we've had our fight!"