#[:softsmile:]

[firelles]

She was one who was strong of will, who reached between the bars of a cage to offer comfort whilst in combat. He knew little else about her, having fallen too fast. It was a shame, for she seemed to be one to know of gentle strength- to comfort and protect, and to defend. As he, again, casts a glance in concern of her wellbeing, he notices the flowers that decorate her attire- delicate, yet remaining. They suited her, he felt. Both in her performance in combat, and her attempts to free their captive ally.

“Greetings- I must apologize for the late introduction… I hope I am not remiss in my approach. I am called Sephiran.” He inclines his head. She seemed to have a bearing of nobility, or perhaps that was simply her spirit, so he will give her the proper respect as deserved. “Your performance last round- as much as I could see- was impressive. Might I ask for your name in return?”

It is he who had fought with her just as strongly, tearing apart the lock with willful fibers of their beings until it no longer remained an obstacle. His instinct to free their caged comrade first and foremost— That in itself said plenty of a kind character. There are a number of faces in the heat of battle who prioritize victory over everything else. Such is the fate of a poor leader, resigned to failure of their land. But here, amidst this group, she does not sense that. Actions alone speak volumes, that much she knows.

Thus, understanding envelopes her face as her hands clasp neatly in front of her. "Worry not. The blame can fall on I, just as much. It ill-suits me to fight alongside you all without passing on my name, of all things!" A petite giggle leaves her lips, upholding herself to remain within the grace of Firene's princess. Taking hold of the ends of her skirt, she slightly inclined into a polite bow as greeting. "My name is Céline. I know not what lies ahead for us in the upcoming battles, but you can rely on me all the same."

[valflaame]

She recognizes him in the way one might a memory, for this is a man that she has known all her life, and yet not the one she had seen when last they met.

He is younger by some years, and he is unmistakably living. The latter of which Ishtar finds to be a comfort more than anything. They had been likeminded, and she had hoped that the two of them might could have helped to bring an end to all of that suffering.

In the end, fate had other plans.

"Lord Arvis," she bows as mother had always taught her to, lips drawn into a small smile to contrast the sorrow that lingers in her gaze, "it has been... quite some time."

Her fingers twitch, wishing to busy themselves with something. Has time spared him the knowledge she holds just as it has his age? As it had Lady Deirdre?

"I cannot express how grateful I am to see you well."

He does not immediately recognize the woman in front of him. He's startled at first, but years in court have shown him to keep his expression even and controlled no matter how confused you may be.

But then it hits him. His eyebrows raise and he remembers Ishtar, much younger than she stands before him now. Julia has grown as well, and his son has become older than he remembers. It should make some sort of sense to him that this is not a place of logic.

"Lady Ishtar," he greets, and mirrors her bow in greeting. "I'm pleased to see you as well. I did not know you had arrived here, or I would have welcomed you myself."

He folds his hands behind his back. "You've grown quite a bit since I've last seen you."

[vallitemaiden]

Mikoto trailed after Dheginsea through the deserted square, careful of her steps amid the debris. She had since traded her worn and tired slippers for more practical footwear. And when he crouched, she followed suit, spying the reason why only a moment later.

Keeping a wary eye on the enemy, she glanced toward Dheginsea, and was caught off guard by the absurdity of such a large man crouching behind an abandoned food cart and stuffing potatoes into his cloak. She smiled at his insistent voice and then nodded. If she ignored everything else, this almost felt like sneaking food from the kitchens. Almost.

"Let's go that way," she whispered back. The eyeball was floating in the other direction, completely oblivious to their presence, and the two were able to make their escape with haste.

Though they had all come here, she had not seen Ferdinand, Sothe, or the others. Given the state of the city, that was likely a good thing. Any loud noises would surely only draw enemies down upon them.

Mikoto fell into step beside Dheginsea as they approached the city entrance once more. "We make a good team, don't you think? I'm glad that we could work together again, though I hope that the next time is under less dire circumstances." But when would this end? When would she see her children again?

She briefly closed her eyes and breathed deep to clear the thoughts and then smiled once more. "Let's wait here for the others. I'll keep a lookout."

shopping in the city part 2

toa epiphany week 3: infirmary

[pareidolla]

sinking to the floor.... i really want to explain my thought process for my voice designs but i need to draw them first.... raughhhhh

[mokagachas]

a second nui has hit the moka towers

[nobilisseoblige]

It takes a while to find him, staying on the edges of the crowd where she can't get surprised by anyone. Looking through the gaps between people, dodging any wandering or curious eyes.

Eventually, she finds him. He doesn't look good. It's her fault. She feels bad that she feels too tired to be guilty.

"Ferdinand." It takes a bit of a struggling still to reach him without getting too caught into the crowds, but she does it. She frowns as her eyes give him a once over. They should have done more. They should have at least been able to keep him safe.

"Are you alright? That wasn't...it wasn't great." He doesn't look like he's having trouble focusing his eyes...

She plasters the best fake smile on that she can. Even that's pretty awful. "Not exactly a shining performance from your professors, huh?"

“I am!” is the first utterance he managed, though he immediately began to muse on if that was truly the case. “I am Ferdinand Von Aegir, after all. you needn’t worry about me, Instructor Yunaka.”

there was truth to it, really. circumstances aside, he was still eighteen and bushy-browed— wet around the ears from the eagerness of needing to prove himself. though he wondered if at the core of it all, ‘alright’ was truly just a matter of mindset. his fingers gently teased some loose snowflakes from his scarf, feeling the flakes melt in his pads as he considered how he filled this space. these shoes. the sight in front of her. he had a quiet ring of exhaustion rolled twice around his eyes, feeling the consequences sinking in like an anchor out at sea.

“it was a particularly poor performance, especially on my part.” he rested his fist on his chest and bowed his head modestly. “I think we were all blindsided by the abrupt nature of this attack, so…” peering up, at first shyly, then with a blooming smile, Ferdinand continued. “we should all polish ourselves to shine next time, shouldn’t we?”

she smiled back. he is too much of himself to know it is not real. to him, it is real. and to him, he smiled back, though the honesty in his smile rendered a sort of peculiar humility that came with admitting his faults. there is a discerning realism to the bend of his brow, to the half-crook of his smile that lended itself to exhaustion. bleary vision made it hard for him to make out much of anything, and he rubbed his eye to make out her silhouette in the dim light. but, to him, she was a rather lovely sight after all this.

“do not fret.” he was talking for the both of them, puffing his plume of a chest as if his feathers numbered the amount of pride he had. “we are all tired. we’re all a variant of not-okay.”

he grinned. “but we’re alright, aren’t we?” contradicting himself. “I trust that, by surviving, we have to be. to some extent.”

“though I worry for our comrades out there…” a distant, far off gaze took him hundreds of miles away, back to Garreg Mach. “it is too much to think about right now. but we must confront the fact that Garreg Mach has fallen.”

gently, he combed through his thick muss of hair to straighten the locks that fell out of place. shaking snowflakes into his palm, Ferdinand Von Aegir laughed under his breath. “it’s cold out there, Instructor.” the snowflakes melted.

“stay warm. I care about you.”

[wolfhednn]

DOROTHEA'S SURPRISE GIVES THE MAN CONFIDENCE. the shift between them is almost palpable as she explains who this ' lord ione ' is——not even a real lord, which explains why he's never heard of the name. but insufferable men like that are a coin a dozen ; she might as well be talking about any number of the noble and wealthy that he's met, each of them the same as the last, names and faces blending together inseparably. he's never understood how his father and brother had a knack for remember all of them individually. to him, they might as well have been all the same.

the momentary lapse in focus costs them both——his attention snaps back at the sound of the whistle, but before he can finish processing the feeling of dread creeping in his stomach, sharper, soundless whistles sing from the far treeline. a shout as he looks up, and next thing he knows, the wind is knocked out of him and the ground is hitting him hard, and they're both scrambling as streaking feather fletchings whisk by overhead. "go! run!" he hears himself shouting, grabbing dorothea by the arm and trying to push her forward to the other side of the clearing as he chances a glance back. in a precious few-second pause between volleys, he calls entropic lightning between his fingers and throws out a funnel-shaped blast of thoron into the shadows between trees, a beam-like flash of blinding light in the dark that would hopefully give them just enough cover, before racing to his feet and sprinting after dorothea as fast as they would carry him.

he doesn't know what happens to the bound bandit, doesn't stop to look back and see. he keeps one eye on the shape of dorothea's back half-umbral in the undergrowth around them as they dive, pulse pounding, back into the trees, one eye on the shadows in case they'd been surrounded, ears out for sign that they're being pursued.

a glint of something silver ahead.

heart in his throat, felix surges forward to push dorothea out of the way. "look out!" pain bursts across his other upper arm, a sharp slice he takes with a grunt. "go right! get back to the monastery, as fast as you can!"

he draws his sword in his right hand, gathers thunder in his left——sends the bolt forward in the direction the knife had come, watching it illuminate a hooded figure in its glow, then breaks into a run after it on foot with a battlecry. hoping he wasn't sending her into a bigger trap instead.

　tailor of roses and their thorns.

　　　　　　　　　 　　❪　m. recovery　/　sword point　❫

[firelles]

It was with all the grace and strength of the gladiolus flower that she fought. In tandem with the other flier, she battled in both the realm of the sky and of the ground. Her efforts were invaluable in Lilian’s rescue, but also in the defeat of the various foot soldiers they fought at the same time.

Which is to say that when she, too, fell (and not too long after their first), it had been a terrible omen; their fight may be less winnable than initially thought.

Yet here she stood, healed of her wounds just like the rest of them were. Any torn leaves were mended, wilted petals restored, shortened roots rejuvenated. It was an adjustment to realize just how deeply the arena would right its damages. Though their memories were intact and their minds were affected for it, their bodies were just the same as when they first stepped onto the stage.

“Hello,” Fluorspar begins with a curt bow of her head. “I wanted to commend you for the prowess you demonstrated last round.” It was safe to say that Selena would remain safely rooted to the ground, but her two airborne comrades had grown in her a respect for the art—to be flying as though it were second nature, to command the sky as if it were your domain. Though they fought their monster for it, this one especially had not backed down.

“I am Selena,” she introduces, a slight smile, almost aloof, on her face. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“And what is your name, if I may ask?”

It is not her first time she had found herself defeated in battle since arriving to Fódlan— No, she is reminded of a similar venture some moons ago. The training regime on these lands truly was vigorous, but she knew its necessities. Even if she falls, she gets back up. She always does. She always will. She must.

With one fight over, another is to begin shortly. She is never sure what to expect, but she supposes that is the mere realities of any fight. Predictability is not always granted.

She recalled how strong and graceful Selena appeared to be during battle— Truly an experienced soul. Céline offers a smile and small bow, words coated with kindness. "I offer similar words. Without your efforts, I am certain we would have had a much more difficult time," she replied in return.

"You may call me Céline. I am only a student within the monastery's walls, but I have much to learn." That is part of the very reason she enrolled, for what is an academy if not a place to grow? Her knowledge feels ready for the future, but her heart does not. "Perhaps I may even do so from yourself— From what I observed, there is no doubt you have quite the keen eye."

[nohrslittleflower]

was going to leave this in tags but actually I think it’s a big enough update to her that it deserves its own post so:

Elise’s staff has broken during the events of Epiphany’s finale. Because she does not know how to use magic without it despite her S+ Faith skill, from now on Elise will be narratively unable to use magic until she can get a new staff, fix her old one, or learn to use magic without it. However it ends up happening.

This probably won’t last longer than the month of February but. You know. Don’t worry about it okay yay <3

[princessmacedon]

fogado stretches and rolls his arm once, twice. out of all his times running through that city, this by far was the most dangerous---if he hadn't given those girls the slip back at the inn, who was to say what would have happened to him? that he managed to not be a burden on his partner dead body-style was a blessing, and it was all thanks to his own cunning...

...AND a nice big fortify from a little girl with red hair.

he can't say he'd ever met this person before, which is SO WEIRD because the minute he busted butt into the marketplace he clocked her as having the nicest vibes EVER. she seemed so sweet! and she IS! because she took one look at his sorry state and whipped that staff out like nobody's business!!

fogado ought to bring her a gift as thanks. he'd picked up a brand-spanking-new recover staff from the markets and hadn't had the chance to hand it off yet. maybe she'll like it?

" 'scuse me! umm, li'l miss red? " fogado calls as he makes his way over to the girl in question. sure, that'll work for now. " i wanna say, first of all---thanks a bunch for takin' care of me back there. i tell you, it was rough out there! "

he extends his hand holding the staff. " second, i brought you this! i'unno if you're in super-duper need of a new one or anything... but i figured out of everyone i know, you could use it like a champ! "

Li'l miss red? Maria's head turns on instinct, to be greeted by the face of one of her companions in this little expedition. A shame she'd yet to learn all of their names, but she was getting close! And soon? Hopefully closer!

He looks better than he had when he joined them at the markets too, and the realization coupled with the new company puts a shining smile on her face. How tired he had looked then! Though, as with Hugh (and she'd seen the attacks he'd weathered), she cannot recall if he ever lacked for a smile.

"Hi, big mister sunshine!" Well, she's not as good at nicknames as he is, but a hand darts to her mouth, a peal of merry laughter spilling through the slivers between her fingers. He does seem like sunshine though -- like warm and easy company, the sort that smooths the tension in your shoulders. It's something she recognizes in the way he talks, familiar in its forgotten formalities even if different in its degree.

Another laugh. "Wasn't it? I'm so glad to see all of you again!" She blinks once, twice, a tentative hand reaching to accept the staff. "For me?" It's ticklish to be thought of when you had not expected to be; the little cleric beams, hugging the staff to her chest appreciatively. "Thank you!" A courteous dip of the head, excitement tearing through sparkling eyes like a shooting star. "Thank you so much! I know exactly what to do with this! Hee hee... Like a champ!"

That shimmering gaze turns to him, fulgent and mirthful. "My name is Maria, by the way! But I don't mind if you call me li'l miss red, hee hee. It's really nice to meet you!"

[starrook]

"...I know." Alcryst takes a deep breath. Brodia failed her, just as it's failed many others. He doesn't question that. "And I understand that you did what you needed to do to survive. That your past is difficult to speak of because of that. That... I'm probably one of the last people you want to talk to about it." Yunaka is tense. Alcryst sees her fists clenched tightly, fingernails gouging skin. Angry? Scared? Both?

She should be. As much as Alcryst is a friend and ally of Yunaka's, he is Brodia's crown prince, charged with the protection of her people. That includes the people she's wronged over the years. And it includes her.

"I want to trust you," Alcryst says gently. "Because you've done so much good for me and mine, and I truly believe in that goodness. But more than anything, I want to be fair. And I want you to feel like you are being treated fairly, all things considered. ...You are more than just some petty thief to me. You are a friend. And you undersell what you are capable of."

goodbye, sun

return to brodia

[rozyrne]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐑 !

rivalries are put aside, and camaraderie takes their place. and for the golden deer, pulling neck and neck with the eagles and lions despite having the fewest contestants in the ring is all the reason to celebrate! or so rosado and hortensia thought. at the post-tournament grand banquet, the elusian pair have set up a golden deer corner, complete with yellow and cervid decor and drapery, and both hosts arrayed in house colors and face paint. "three cheers for knoll! three cheers for hilda! three cheers for eliwood!" "fear the deer!" a celebration lifting up the class heroes who'd carried them from underdog into the spotlight, and for all the deer who cleared the way valiantly to let them get there: —hip-hip hooray!

FOOD & DRINK:

—  CUPCAKE DECORATING  ╱  from yellow-sugar icing to pretzel antlers to cookie toppings shaped like deer, there's no shortage of supplies to make your cupcakes look any which way you want.

—  CARAMEL MERINGUES  ╱  a triple layer of chocolate and caramel in glass containers, tied off with a bit of string attached to a spoon. perfect to grab and take with you, or feed to a loved one.

—  DOE POPS  ╱  cake pops shaped like deer heads! and something sticking out of each one. a paper fortune? what does yours say?

—  GOLDEN SPICE CIDER  ╱  a warm and buzzy autumnal drink, perfect for the season and sure to banish any chills. both alcoholic and non-alcoholic varieties available.

—  CROUCHING CHOCOLATE, HIDDEN STAG  ╱  a culinary minigame? a table is arranged with a terrarium-like miniature woodland display, complete with moss, trees, golden deer flags, and a herd of deer themselves. one item in this display is made of chocolate. how many things are you willing to bite to find which one it is?

ARTS & CRAFTS:

—  THIRTY-POINT CROWN  ╱  craft your own glorious headpiece with paint, twigs, and twine to show off your deer pride! who can boast the most impressive rack? ( of antlers, duh. what were you thinking? )

—  WOOD CARVING  ╱  for the dexterous and crafts-minded, a setup with display and instructions to carve your own wooden deer to take home. organizers are not responsible for injuries.

—  DEERLY BELOVED  ╱  a stack of deer-shaped paper and pens greet you. "write a compliment and stick it onto its recipient!" the instructions say. if you're fast, maybe they won't even know it's you.

—  READY-TO-PAINT CERAMICS  ╱  a station of unfired bowls and plates and small vases invites you to decorate them however you want! several stencils are provided for the uninitiated, or you can go where your hart takes you.

—  DECORATE A FRIEND  ╱  from washable paint to stick-on sequins, glitter bombs and pinnable deer tails. find a willing victim to array in deer spirit — or make one.

GAMES:

—  FÓDLAN CHESS  ╱  a traditional strategy board game using a triangle-shaped board that can be played by two to three people. the objective is to be the first to move all your pieces to one of the other corners by jumping over your opponents' pieces. are you up for the competition?

—  LIMBO  ╱  everyone knows that being a deer isn't just about strength or smarts, but flexibility. challenge mode: wear an antler crown while playing, and don't let it fall off your head!

—  ANTLER TOSS  ╱  you have five tries to land as many rings on the tines as you can for a prize. if a friend is willing, they can wear the antlers on their head for you to aim at instead!

—  DEER PONG  ╱  the classic party game, with alcoholic and non-alcoholic versions. some say that the non-alcoholic one misses the point of the challenge, but at least it lets everyone play, right?

—  HEADLOCK  ╱  in a classic show of strength, stamina, and bravado, it's time to wrestle like the stags do! put on a headdress of real oaken antlers ( not light, that ) and lock heads with your opponent to throw them to the ground! no use of other body parts or implements allowed.

GUIDELINES:

reblog this ask meme to indicate that your muse is participating! anyone who's reblogged the meme is automatically accepting asks, so no need to double-check. 　

please be mindful of not only waiting for interactions to come to you, but try to be proactive about sending to others too. it's not quite polite to always expect others to do the work! 　

muses from any house are welcome! it's a celebration meant for everyone. 　

this is still narratively part of BOEL, but to keep things separate from the BOEL tags, you may use the tag #GDPride2024 for related posts if you wish!

[mrch7th]

{ Who, What, Where - Scene Two }

Caelus shouldn't be entirely surprised that he got paired with his best friend, considering they did both join the class together- but it's still nice that they randomly got partnered. What he doesn't like, however, is what was written on his prompt card. Well- only because he worries a bit as to how March would react to his character's specific motivations. He remembers how concerned her and Dan Heng ( and Seele and Bronya ) looked at him after he gained the Preservation's Blessing. Maybe that will work in the duo's favor in creating a good scene- since it will be a bit too natural of a reaction from the both of them- well, mostly from March ( unfortunately ).

Enter stage. Spotlight active. And- Action!

Chaos surrounds the environment- debris everywhere, a low level of "smoke" caressing their ankles, distant roar of collapsed buildings disappearing in fires- enters a single man, holding his side where a noticeable red ( not the real color he'd "bleed" [gold].. but the audience doesn't need to know that ) stain soaks the entire area under his fingertips.

❛ This.. This isn't looking good.. I'm.. running out.. of time...! ❜

The lad looks beaten up ( the makeup artists did a real good job! ), and the visible limp of his takes tiny steps forward, scanning the area around him- snappy jolts back and forth of his head showing how desperate the silver was searching.. What was he searching for? A person. Specifically, a head of pink hair with iced tips. A friend. And Caelus doesn't have to "search" long before he finds his target. A shaky exhale of relief, and the Nameless stumbles forward, excitement and solace mixing to paint his face as clumsy feet take him to at least meet the lass half way-- before he can no longer stand, crashing to his knees. Caelus makes his voice as scratchy and out of breathe as he can- making sure to emphasize the exhaustion and comfort he gets just from seeing March surviving the "End of the World". He still has a chance to do what he set out to do- before it's too late for him.. for the two of them.

❛ There... There you are..! Hah... Thank.. Thank goodness- you're alive.. ❜

march 7th hates this before it’s even begun.

she’d been giddy to see caelus’ name listed down as her partner. she always delights in the opportunity to do things with her friends. but then she kept reading. and reading. and then he walks onto the set and—

it’s like all of her worst nightmares have come to life before her eyes. her stomach twists at the sight of him. and it’s stupid, so stupid. she knows it’s not real. it’s not even remotely close to right—red, so red, in place of sparkling gold. but her expression crumples anyway, delight turned to dread in an instant. how many times has this happened already? he hasn’t even been with them that long, but how many times has he almost died? actually died?

what is she supposed to do if, one day, he actually does? and doesn’t come back?

anyone, she thinks now. please, they could have given her anyone except caelus. she’s not going around calling herself the world’s greatest actress by any means, but if she could have had a stranger here instead, at least she would actually be able to find the words instead of standing and staring at him like an idiot.

“…i’m alive,” march echoes, her voice hollow. maybe it just seems like convincing acting to everyone else. that would be nice, she guesses. at least it would look good for the camera. she doesn’t really care. her body moves on autopilot as she meets him halfway—of course she does, because real or not, he’s her best friend. she will always try to catch him when he falls. she sinks to her knees next to him, her hands settling on his shoulders, sliding uselessly down his arms to settle over his hands. her skin chills automatically at the tide of emotion, ice forming at her fingertips like there’s a real wound to even be tended to. “and you’re…alive?” her voice cracks. she doesn’t mean for it to. it would be really stupid to cry here.

it’s not real. he’s fine. and yet quieter, but far more insistent, he’s not fine. he’s not. she swallows around the lump in her throat. “how did you…” her voice is scratchy, but unlike caelus, it is no act. “what happened…?”

the world is ending. it’s a funny question to ask.

[inserviceto]

Hero's Proof

Hero Mastery WC: 1,469

If you had asked him what a hero looked like as a boy, Harken would have been able to spout off several names and details in quick succession. Knights that he grew up hearing tales of, had even seen with his own eyes on the special occasions that brought many to castle Tuscana.

They were brave and true, strong and tall, indomitable in his memory. 

He had been told he was to follow that same path, and he had been excited to do so. His brothers were knights, his father was a knight. It ran in their blood. He dreamed of swearing his oath to the Marquess and serving honorably like the rest of his family.

It had been his only goal in life. 

Harken can’t say if he ever considered himself a hero while serving in Tuscana. Perhaps the closest he came was after first swearing his sword to the old Marquess. Things were peaceful under his rule, and the most they had to deal with were skirmishes with brigands. Harken had been proud to follow in his father’s footsteps, to serve unfalteringly to a lord that cared so much about his people.

But the Marquess had not been long for this world by the time Harken had been knighted, and not very long after his own father’s passing, the Marquess was claimed by old age and illness. In his stead, his son rose to take the reins of Tuscana.

Things were never quite the same after that.

The young Marquess enjoyed what power he had, and if he could flaunt it or lord it over those who had not, he would do so. Taxes steadily increased and wore down the common folk, money used for frivolous things like tourneys and lavish banquets. The knights were no longer protectors of the realm, but enforcers of the Marquess’ will. If you refused or could not pay, the knights would come calling and leave only after the debt had been satisfied – ransacking homes or bringing struggling people into the stockades.

The knights themselves were kept in line by severe punishments should they speak out, and intense competition within their own ranks for rewards from the Marquess. Where once they had been comrades, now they were rivals. 

Even his own brothers were not immune to the pressures of it all.

They all did terrible things to survive. Many people turned to savagery just to feed themselves and their families, and inevitably, the knights were deployed to beat the people down for it.

Innocent blood on his hands, all because he bent the knee and said some words that were hardly being honored anymore. A true hero would stand and disown such behavior, fight to right the wrongs that were being made against people who had done nothing to deserve such treatment. But Harken bowed his head, and followed orders, and dirtied his hands and soul for the lord he was sworn to.

It didn’t last long. It couldn't have lasted long, with how everything was falling apart.

The Marquess was fond of inviting his peers to the castle, throwing raucous events and allowing quite a number of visiting lords to get away with almost anything they pleased while within Tuscana’s borders. 

But there were some who looked upon the debauchery and wrongs with a critical eye, and they wouldn’t stand by while people of Lycia – even ones outside their territories – suffered.

The first time he’d spoken with Marquess Pherae, Harken had been so thoroughly worn down by everything that he’d not really realized the gravity of the situation. Lord Elbert had promised his aid, in whatever way was necessary, and Harken had been dulled to such a degree that understanding had not sunk in until his own lord had called him to attendance and proceeded to humiliate him in front of the court. He’d been stripped of rank and title, dishonored and thrown out. And through the shellshock of it all – the sneering and the shameful looks from even his own brothers, doing nothing for him that might draw the ire of their lord – Harken was laid bare to everything he had done.

There were no heroes here, and he was no exception.

Tuscana’s fall and rebirth were quick. Lord Elbert of Pherae had kept his word, and rallied several other territories to remove the current Marquess from power. He would not be disposed of peacefully. Battle sprung forth like fire on a dry plain, and while the knights of Tuscana stood by their lord – not out of love or loyalty, but by strongarm – they could not fight off attacks on several fronts.

They would put up enough effort to drag the conflict out for a time, but none of them wished to die for the lord that had mistreated them so.

For his part, Harken had been approached by Marquess Pherae again. He had been Marquess Tuscana’s preferred knight – always there to please, always there to torment, never speaking out or acting up. He knew all the knights that sat opposed to them, knew their skills and the strategies likely to be deployed. He was of use, and he could finally do what he should have done so long ago: help the people that had looked up to him as a knight.

Lord Elbert had been kind to him in the little time they had engaged with one another, and even through the weight of despair and guilt, the light of the other man’s words got through to Harken. It would never make up for the things he had done, but he could put a stop to the suffering so that recovery could begin.

They fought their way through the ranks of Tuscana’s knights, Harken joining Sir Marcus in flanking Marquess Pherae. They were trying to end this as quickly and with as little bloodshed as possible, Lord Elbert hoping to talk sense into Marquess Tuscana now that things had escalated.

But Marquess Tuscana would not hear any of it. He struck out at Marquess Pherae as he offered out a hand of peace, and as Sir Marcus rushed to his defense, Harken felt a blanket of calm drape over him. He stepped forward to cover the other two, sword and shield at the ready and his former lord’s screaming face set firm in his gaze.

He remembers nothing of what came next.

A now familiar and precious voice swims in his ears, and Harken comes back to himself as if from a dream. His shield has been discarded, his sword…Sir Marcus has pried it out of his white-knuckle grasp. He blinks, and lets out a shuddering breath; sees the mess of blood on the ground, on his hands, on him–

There is a hand at his face, warm and careful, barring him from looking further. His vision is taken up by blue eyes and fiery hair.

“Are you alright, Sir Harken? Please, come away…The fighting is done.” 

Lord Elbert’s words sink in slowly, and he can dully hear himself asking “What…?” as he is led away. 

He does not remember what happened. Not when he is being cleaned up and checked over for wounds – there are none, the blood, as much of it as there is, is not his. Nor when talks are had, and a new lord is brought up to take the position of Marquess at the Lycian League’s vote. And not yet still, when Lord Elbert takes him back to Pherae and brings him into the fold as one of his knights.

He cannot remember, but the feeling of heroics is not there. Even when people talk of how he had defended Lord Elbert so fiercely, single-handedly engaging the enemy general in combat and slaying him. He did not feel like a hero. He hardly thought he should be here at all, serving such a fine lord as Marquess Pherae. 

He does not feel like a hero, but he comes to regard Lord Elbert as his. And if he can be of any use to the man that took him in, disgraced and bloodied and far from deserving of it, perhaps Harken could earn such rightful praise.

He is here now, bereft of his savior lord and a world away from the place he had come to regard as his home. But…he yet lives, and so too does Elbert’s son. An oath he had sworn again to house Pherae, and he has been neglecting it. He is no hero now, but perhaps, finally returning to face the ones most pained by his failures was a step back on the correct path. 

And he might never be worthy, but…it was time to try again. Sword and shield, heart and soul, devotion was the hero he wished to be.

[rozyrne]

"well, not exactly..." but he skimps on the details. who cares anyway; both the jana and these elementals didn't like to be seen and each one of them had a bigger personality than the last, so really the differences just came down to the fine print. far as he knew, these guys weren't going and swapping around with humans though — but also, maybe they were. he's sure fódlan, just like elyos, had a bunch of weird stuff going on that he and everybody else didn't even know the first thing about!

kind of exciting when he thought about it that way.

falling easily into hortensia's smaller strides when she hooks his arm, rosado giggles, finding ease in the comfort of something so familiar. he already likes it better here if he gets to see hortensia like this again; in elusia, she'd always seemed so put-together after leaving the academy behind for the war. not that that was a bad look on her, really ( rosado's pretty sure there's no such thing! ), but it's easy to forget how long he'd gone without seeing this side of her,

this arm-hooking, bright-grinning, babbling-about-magic-systems-he-didn't-get-the-first-thing-about hortensia.

"flying classes? which ones are you signed up for? i'm peeking at your schedule when tonight's over. and do you already know which teachers are the duds? i really can't go through another professor begonia again; i'll fail for sure..."

but before he starts thinking about traumatic exam seasons and course listings, a survey back towards the confectionary table reminds him of a sight he'd passed by earlier, and he abruptly reroutes their ambling path with a gasp and a tug at hortensia's arm, pulling her further and further through the dense foot traffic. "oh, earlier i spotted this cream and dragonfruit layer cake — did you see it? it looked just like you. come on, i want to get a sketch of you with a slice. it's just the thing to start off our year..."

Grinning ear to ear Hortensia continues to take in more of Rosado's outfit, and of course most importantly just him and his Rosadoness - elemental illusions or not, there really was no magic that could truly capture her friend other than what he himself made.

(oooh but she'll have to ask about the cute lil accessories later. That watch chain, so delicate!)

"Hehe," she glances down at the orange-ish bloom as Rosado looks at the one Air has gifted him in return. Earth... and all of its expansive beauty, she thought if fit Rosado even if from what she'd seen his actual elemental was a bit of brute.

"Oh, so your home had elementals too?" Hortensia asks, nodding along, "I wonder how similar they are then. The principles of anima magic are the same here as in Elyos so it would make sense if they had a similar system, hmm..."

Oh, she was getting a little technical there; and at Rosado's insistence it would be the academy but different she laughs and tucks one arm under his.

"It'll be even better, for sure! Did you see they have flying classes her? Oh, but that's for later. Let's not miss tonight's events - you've gotta be out for everyone's flower, yeah? I'm still a little miffed those Morfisians shrunk me before the ball even got started but with you here and events swinging into gear, hard to stay mad!"

[raijintosworn]

Her steps are wobbly as she approaches her next victim, but even with wobbly steps she's no less of a dangerous predator. She had yet to speak to the man since the ball.

Perhaps she was being too cruel... After all, the war was over. They should be... well she's not certain he would trust her to be friends but at the very least they could be polite.

But she couldn't deny how fun it was to at least toy with him.

"A very happy new year to you." Camilla slotted herself next to the fallen prince, leaning in close to his ear.

"Enjoy it."

She pressed her lips against his cheek, just enough to stain it as wine dark as her lips.

Ryoma did notice Camilla approach, but assumed she'd want nothing to do with him. After all, the feeling was very mutual. His distaste for the Nohrians, despite being forcibly exposed to them, had not lessened.

However, Ryoma should know a predator better.

She made a space for herself beside him. Ryoma did not budge: as always with the eldest three, he stood his ground. Her voice so low made his skin prickle. Her poisoned lips touched his cheek, and his expression tightened.

"Well Lady Camilla, I'd argue you've had too much to drink, if you're mixing friend and foe like this." He pulled away. "I do wish you a happy new year."

And a terrible hangover. That, however, was a wish he kept to himself.