#◈ egittae

[txmehunting]

"you."

can i help you?

[ulircursed]

Wheres my son youre not my son

"Professor Grandfather!!" While Cranberry looks all of the part of a little boy, there's still a bird-like litheness in his movement that he takes advantage of to climb the tall human, settling with his arms clinging around Lambert's shoulders. "Father went back to bed 'cause he didn't get enough sleep. Can you play with me instead?"

[hermidetta]

And why are YOU bald

uncle

[hyciinths]

hey what's with those vibes dude

I haven't the faintest idea what your talking about. I'm just a guy ahaha

[katabatiic]

🎨

(what does he remember from that bizarre first impression)

sharp ass teeth

scruffy facial hair (charm point on men in legault's eyes)

????

[nohrslittleflower]

🎨!

[wolfhednn]

At least one was here. It was a dreadful development but still something that had to be celebrated in his mind.

Rodrigue’s kid, the youngest. Felix. 

Lambert…admittedly doesn’t remember much about the boy, but his features tugged at something else buried deep in his mind. A face that wasn’t his’, yet from the same family. One that shared a fate similar to his own, in the very same place and time. A face he swore he had seen moons ago, when Lambert first dared to use a Death tome.

But alas, out of the four kids- one was here. He could only hope and pray that Dimitri, Sylvain and Ingrid were okay somewhere, looking after one another. A new problem entered the equation however- how to even approach his boy? He hadn’t gotten any chances to properly be in his vicinity until now. It was almost guaranteed that he’ll either be shrugged off at best- and ideally, or at worst…well. It would be down that same road of being blamed as a faker again.

Just don’t recognize me, he hoped. “Felix? From House Fraldarius, correct?” He could just pose as a teacher like any other, checking in on the students. Did you see where Dimitri went? Do you know where any of the other three are? Are they okay?

“Are you okay?”

Why is it that he can see Glenn so clearly on that face? The Felix he remembered was…different. But also much younger.

THIS LONG, HE'D CHOSEN NOT TO CONFRONT IT. he'd heard the rumors, of course. a professor named lambert, a tall, blond man with a striking resemblance to faerghus' crown prince if one stood the two together. too striking to be ignored, especially when more than one had whispered of that same resemblance to a man who should've been dead.

then, once or twice, he'd seen the man himself from afar. never close enough to judge with his own eyes, but he found that he wasn't certain he wanted to.

the boar, after all, had spent this long agonizing over his father's death, along with that of so many others. he spent day and night bearing their tragedies, fashioning their memories into keepsakes and defining himself by them, just like his own father. they really were made for each other——father and son, more than he'd ever been.

so what was he supposed to tell them?

what was he supposed to write home? ' the king's back ', as though that would get him anything but pages of nonsense and rebuke besides? ' it turns out the king is still alive? ' ridiculous.

so he'd avoided the spectre. the corpse, the charlatan, whatever this was supposed to be. the fault in time, or even the goddess' idea of a sense of humor. after all, he'd learned not too long ago that apparently anything was possible. including, it turned out, dead men walking among them whole again. he'd avoided the spectre, and consequently he'd avoided his son. there was no reason he should have two fathers, after all ; how much more coddling could he get?

so, with a huff, "i'm fine," he says. "thanks for your concern."

not wholly able to stifle a cutting tone.

he meets the man's gaze dead-on, matches its uncertainty with unfaltering boldness in equal measure, bordering on audacity. with one more drink from the waterskin in hand, he pushes off the bench on which he'd sought a moment's respite. even that, it seemed, couldn't go uninterrupted by ghosts.

"i have things to do. if it's the boar you're looking for, i haven't seen him."

[stellalimned]

Lambert reached for Limstella, grabbing them from under the arms and lifting them up slightly like a cat, giving the student an once over. Once satisfied with his analysis, he placed them down and gave them a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Thank the Goddess, you are well! With that crowd at the marketplace we could have been easily targeted by petty bandits, so I am glad we both managed to pull through intact.”

Finally allowing himself to truly look at Limstella, the professor nodded. “Our introduction was rather abrupt, I imagine. But I shall start by making it clear that what I and Matthias told you about what it means to feel warmth when under another’s wing was genuine. You may not be my student, per se- I cater to a different house, but I shall still view you as if you were one of my own. That includes giving you all the support and aid you might need.”

“Your performance was expert, and most importantly you carried yourself masterfully throughout the entire time in the city. I could not be more proud of how things have developed.” Lambert finished with a smile, gently patting Limstella’s shoulder as he had done many times throughout their search for supplies.

Pondering over his next words, the professor hummed as he settled with an answer. “Formally speaking, I am Lambert of the Ashen Wolves if you ever come to need my assistance.” Another pause. "As for my relation to Matthias...as you saw, I am a knight under his service. We have known each other for many years."

The way in which Professor Lambert picks me up to appraise me is surprising, as if I am a small animal or a child, though given his height and strength, such a feat must be quite easy for him. He handles me with gentleness throughout his scan and pats me on the shoulder once he sets me down. His relief is prevalent as he speaks, and—and he promises to lend me his aid even though he serves another of the academy's Houses. And his praise is effusive and proud, igniting that curious warmth in my chest and making it grow ever-so-slightly from the tiny spark it has been. Truly, the difference between him and Lord Nergal is night and day. It makes me wonder... what would it have been like, had I been built to be his servant instead of Lord—

No! Blasphemous, disrespectful, incorrect, wrong! I was always meant to be a servant of Lord Nergal, could not have been anyone else's but his. He has always been my master, and for me to even think about serving anyone else save him and his family is evidence of faulty logic. These men, these professors, their quintessence blinds me and is leading me astray. My only goal should be to serve Lord Nergal to the best of my capabilities—but he is gone and dead, and I have nothing but extrapolations of his orders to direct me in this foreign land. How am I meant to function as expected when these men with their warmth and kindness and care are here and he is not? Am I so faulty as to begin to think of having a different master the moment I am exposed to such flawed yet incredible examples of humanity? I must distance myself from them as swiftly as possible—a pang replaces the warmth, the same as I felt when I looked upon Professor Matthias and Professor Lambert as they bickered and joked amongst themselves while I was left to watch.

... What?

I cannot think on Professor Lambert's words of his affiliation or his relation to Professor Matthias, so captured am I by this conundrum I have found myself in. I do not understand what this is or how to identify it; however, the professor was helpful before in defining what made the warmth happen, so he must have some knowledge in this area as well. I turn my attention to him, feeling as if my very form might begin vibrating at any moment.

“Professor—Professor, I must ask you something. If you are in loyal service to someone, and that master dies, and others come along who are warm and kind and caring towards you unlike anything your master did… what must you do? Is it possible to remain in service to that late master to whom you have always been loyal, even though those others treat you like a person and not as the tool that you are?”

[lordgaspard]

♡ (softsmile)

●●○○○ | ATTRACTION ●●●○○ | AFFECTION ●●●○○ | INTEREST ●●●●● | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

"He was the king of Faerghus... and he deserved the role. Any would be honored to serve under him. His fate is one that should never have happened."

"...What do you mean he's alive??"

[hresvelged]

“I see that in total, we have been able to deliver a sizable amount of resources to our allies. We may have been on opposite sides of the city, but it is good to see you all well considering some of the troubles we had to handle as we made our way through it.” As soon as Lambert caught sight of the second team he naturally went over to check both their progress as well as status. It was a blessing that despite all, no one seemed to have gotten too hurt- and it was by pure chance that he ended up near the young princess.

"I do hope that despite the unfortunate conditions of the city, you have enjoyed your time in Faerghus. I am sure you understand we are all managing with what we have available, even more when it comes to the commonfolk and smaller nobles."

Or was it? It was hard to tell, when a small part of him felt drawn to the girl. It made little to no sense as they never shared a single moment as family, but it was as if just the fact she was his step-daughter made his mind yearn to come closer.

Lambert knew better, keeping a respectful distance rather.

“May I ask you an oddly specific question, Edelgard?” That did not however stop him from poking at a few curious points. “Worry not, I do not intend to corner you under the spotlight.” He reassured with a light tone, allowing a beat to pass by before organizing his thoughts. He had to ask, even if something- no, almost everything in him begged him not to for reasons far too mangled and chaotic to comprehend. 

But this was too, part of who he had been. Of the fate he had suffered.

“Have you ever heard of a woman named Anselma? Of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus?”

"I had a memorable experience. That much I can affirm," she replied. Perhaps a plain answer, but truthful nonetheless. "We encountered a number of armored foes, most of which took multiple attempts at disarming. But.. Yes. What matters most is the end result." Her steadfast ambition refused to allow her to falter even in tasks such as this. It always had been this way.

She herself held hopes that their goods would be distributed equally. Refusing to do so would be a waste of time. "I can only hope these resources become properly allocated. To keep them all in a single person's hands would be selfish."

Edelgard wasn't sure what question would be proposed to her, but she could not say she expected another name. It felt sudden; unsteady. Her instinct was to cross her arms and take a step back while remaining level with eye contact. ".. Anselma?"

She only knew of one Anselma. It was no secret— Not particularly, having been a consort of the emperor. The woman had vanished when she was a child. Edelgard still cared for her. Respected her, even if she knew little of the person calling herself mother.

Her brow quirked, hesitant to answer the question without knowing why she must or what purpose it served here. "I know the name, but the Anselma I'm familiar with was never in the Kingdom." She wasn't there nor Adrestia. She hadn't been for many years. That was what she was told. "It's unlikely we know the same person, if that's what you're asking."

[twistedisciple]

Lambert stared at the guy. He had never seen this dude before, and honestly he seemed the type that would blend in well with the folks of the Abyss. Maybe it was the lack of clothing, maybe it was the chains, maybe it was the inherent aura of basement he exuded. And yet…and yet something in him set Lambert off a little bit. He wasn’t sure why, but…something in there just didn’t match with the professor’s own compass.

So, first came the disapproving parent stare. Then a pause, some consideration. Arched eyebrows, a nod…yeah, he was trying to figure out where to place this guy. 

“Your tattoos look cool, that is all I am gonna say.”

Griss is minding his own business. He’s been minding his own business since he got here, and right now he’s not really doing anything except whittling the end of a stick he found with the sharp edge of a rock. For fun, of course. (And maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll get to stab someone with it later) But sitting out here under the shade of one of the palm trees growing along either side of the entrance to the dormitories, no one can say he’s bothering anyone.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Soft wood peels away in curls and drops to the ground around his feet. Every now and then, he stops to admire the point, to test it with his fingertip, but it’s never quite sharp enough. He keeps scraping away until he feels the weight of eyes on him. Brows furrow, attention shifting to his periphery as his whittling slows but doesn’t yet stop. Could be nothing. Could be Yunaka finally trying to make good on her threats.

Feet approach him, and his eyes raise from royal blue wrap to chiseled body to the disapproving face of some regal, lion-maned fellow he’s never met before. One brow rises as Griss sits back, one hand on each knee, makeshift knife under one and handmade spear under the other.

For a beat, they simply stare at each other in silence.

”… But you got more you want to say, don’t ya?” he asks at last, his lips curling with a smile. There’s no point sitting anymore, and this spear’s as good as it’s going to get so, twirling it in one hand, he stands up and takes an ambling step closer. “Like how you want a few yourself, right? Lucky for you, you found the right guy for that.”

[txmehunting]

"Boy, you look like you are about to pass out...while I would usually advise you to calm down or rest, I cannot trust that you will do as I say and therefore must take you somewhere calm, preferably the nurse's office. Do not resist." And there he goes, wrapping Senno in a blanket. Senitto.

haha... yes... sennō's power is returning, bit by bit... as he sits in this random corner of the ballroom, plotting the demise of many an adversary, why, he even thinks he's starting to shake less! ahh, his little happy place is this dim, untouched corner of the massive hall where nobody is coming to bother him ( except for that little waiter child ). nothing could go w

SOMEONE IS PICKING HIM UP SOMEONE IS RESTRAINING HIM SOMEONE IS MOVING HIM FROM HIS HABITAT! HIS BABITAT!!!! HIS HATIBAB!!!!!!!!! BABBF!i!h!ihIFH!!ESTHL3949!)(@)!!(#@

"WHAT?! WHATTTTTTT?!?!" sennō suddenly thunders, shakes becoming great landshatter quakes and face burning more crimson than his eyepaint. "WHO! WHO IS TOUCHING MEEEEEEE??!??!?!?! PUT ME DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWN!!!!!!! PUUUUUUUUUUT MEEEEEEEEEEEE DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

wait! he's a student! he's a student! they should care about students' wellbeings, right?!?! "HEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!!!! I'M BEING KIDNAAAAAAAAAAAAPPED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SOMEONE IS TAKING ME FOR NEFARIOUS PURPOSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[rafent]

♡

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours

○○○○○ | ATTRACTION ○○○○○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●○○○ | LOYALTY ●●○○○ | TRUST

"A mildly unforgettable man. It would be difficult to lose sight of such towering height and bright yellow hair in a crowd or otherwise. The knightly sort at that; if I should recall correctly, during the supply run to Faerghus he referred to himself as the vassal of Matthias. It is also to my understanding that he is proficient with a lance and once brandished it to fearsome effect against Griss."

"Troublesome would it have been if he slew a Fell Dragon's knight, but fortunately for Lambert it has not come to that. If he should ever turn that same lance upon me, however. . .heh. An intriguing and futile endeavor."

[ulircursed]

Wow Andrei

It's a normal day for Hector, seated in the Blue Lions classroom. Nothing breaks the silence save the scritching of pens against paper and the occasional shuffling of seats along the wooden ground.

Suddenly, he hears a roar, barely audible for its distance, seemingly coming from directly below his feet.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENTTTTTTT------!!!!!!!!"

Hmm. Sounds like it would've been terribly loud, if he were any closer. (to the ground?????)

Oh well. The day goes on as usual.

[fleurfr]

[ GARDEN ] [ TOWEL ]

“Oh Dimitri, there you are. I was looking for you everyw-”

Oop, that’s not my son.

Lambert stopped in his tracks a couple of feet away from who he initially thought was the prince of Faerghus, only then figuring it was a completely different boy. Blond, a maturing young man clearly of noble background, but his hairstyle was ever so slightly different and his eyes were a vibrant green instead of icy- not to mention the completely different choice in fashion. His’ was much more elaborate and detailed, faer closer to the abundance of Adrestia compared to the more subdued elegance of Faerghus- not matching either nation regardless. Foreign, definitely.

Was his eyesight really getting that bad? Damn.

Letting out a gentle chuckle, the professor ran a hand through his hair. “My apologies, for a moment I was sure you were someone else- my bad.” In his arms were a set of towels he had acquired after managing to escape from that weird cave. One was offered to the mysterious boy. “Either way, are you in need of a towel? It is unwise to stay in wet or humid clothing, even through warm weather.”

“My name is Lambert, a professor. May I know your name?”

Alfred is more than a little confused when the gentleman calls out someone else’s name when addressing him, not turning his head at first but eventually turning to face him when he realized the mistake had been made. It wasn’t quite as exciting as being mistaken for a king, but to be mistaken for… Dimitri? Hadn’t he sparred with him once? A challenging opponent, and one that made Alfred reconsider his entire workout routine. And his pride. And his dignity.

The offer for a towel was extremely kind, however, and Alfred’s perpetual smile returns in earnest. He had truly been soaked to the bone because of this rain, hadn’t he? Of course he had. It was plain as day, flaxen-blonde hair pressed firmly against his forehead, where it was otherwise voluminous and boyish. “Oh, thanks! That would be great!”

He smiles, accepting the towel and ruffling his hair. The part was distinct, right down the center with wisps that normally framed his face pressed firmly against his ears. Though his clothing still had that regal aura about it, it was still damp from the downpour.

“Nice to meet you, Lambert. I’m Prince Alfred of Firene, but just Alfred is fine. Here, let me give you something as thanks!”

He reaches into a pocket and procures a small, golden anchor charm. “Here! For your kindness.”

[blaiddllodi]

[ SEAGULL ]

“Behold, a criminal.”

He’s holding a gull like one would a hamburger. Somehow the animal is unfazed by its predicament.

“This devious creature was harassing some students for their food rather aggressively, which asked for a lesson to be taught. Not so bold now that you are in someone’s hands, hm?” Eyeing the seagull with a frown, his tone was rather light- almost joking, even though the story told was most definitely true and he had taken upon himself the task of restraining the animal for some time. “It is a beautiful bird, however. Just a domestic menace.” 

His hold, while firm, was gentle. There was no wish to cause harm.

Looking around the area for a moment, Lambert took one step closer to the prince, his gaze softening slightly. “How have you been doing, my boy? Enjoying the party?” Perhaps the moment would’ve been sweeter if it weren’t for the gull glancing around, but Lambert chose to ignore the bird. The memory was still fresh in his mind- a year prior, when they had first met after Lambert returned to the land of the living. It brought…if he had to be honest, mixed feelings to his heart.

On one hand, he was thankful that they had met. On the other, he regretted it for being far too careless, and causing Dimitri unnecessary panic. 

At last, such situation wouldn’t have to repeat itself now. “Oftentimes, when I glance at you, you always seem tense in one way or another. I…do not wish to be overbearing, you see. I am aware you are a maturing young man, and that I should not be constantly nagging you nor inserting myself into your life needlessly. However, I will stress- if you feel as if anything is bothering you in any shape or form, I will always be there to help.”

“...I know I have been away for years now, and that you most definitely have learned how to live without my presence, but I have and will not turn my back on the fact I am your parent. Even more now that I no longer possess titles, I will devote myself to you as an advisor, a knight, and as your father.”

Caw.

“See? He agrees.” Slightly shifting his hold, Lambert freed one hand to scratch at the bird’s head. Soon after, the professor turned to the side and finally let the bird go, deciding it had enough time in baby jail. 

“We should update our picture at the photo-artifex later, what do you say?” In his face, a warm, nurturing smile.

As though self-fulfilling in some way, Dimitri listened attentively, as a soldier to a commander, watching the bird in hand with a passing curiosity but knowing that there was something else waiting to be said - not merely because they hoped for any moment alone that they could, but because...there had to be a reason he was bringing this up.

Contrary to intention, Dimitri stiffened at the accusation, looking away briefly before glancing back, forcing himself to smile. "I...suppose that I do. My responsibilities are not so great as they will be when I am king in truth, and yet..."

He wished they were? It was something that he said often enough, that he would like to reach the arbitrary age of maturity so that the reins of his country, that cart-drawn horse rattling down the hooking mountain path, could be in hand once more, that he could drive his people to safety.

He glanced down at the sand for a moment. It never seemed appropriate, to voice those concerns to Lambert - that he wanted so badly to take responsibility as king, to take the position rightfully his father's, currently his uncle's, not when it had brought their family near to ruin.

Not when it had ripped them apart.

"I...will try to have fun tonight," he promised, sidestepping the matter entirely, glancing up with the same earnest expression that he always wore, too serious by half. "It is...a new locale for us, isn't it? We don't have warm coastal beaches, the sand too chilly by half for festivities like this."

Too rocky.

"But...yes," he admitted, softer, as though he were not speaking to the flesh and blood man in front of him, but the ghost that could hear him no matter where or when he spoke, that hovered heavy in his heart. "Yes, if you've time later...I would like a new photo. Of the two of us."

Gently, he unclipped the star from his bracelet, and held it in his hand, the shape of it stark against his glove, and reached for the matching star of Lambert's - the points not as many, but tying them together just as their Crest did, Blaiddyd to Blaiddyd.