#◈ egittae

[txmehunting]

"you."

can i help you?

[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."

[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.”

[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.

[machiot]

@egittae sent:

It wasn’t always that Lambert got to see Marni, much less actually talk to her. The girl seemed quite adamant in not coming to class and always seemed busy in one way or another despite the professor’s pleas, but in the end he wouldn’t force anyone to attend his lessons. After all it wasn’t as if the Ashen Wolves were an actual class with an actual academic program- it was just their group and nothing more.

However, he had to admit that he often thought about her. All abyssinians had their reasons as to why they chose to hide from the world and that definitely included Marni, but the professor could only wonder how a girl so young ended up like that. He wouldn’t pry, but he did, genuinely, want to reach out. Or try to.

This was his best chance, at least. “Good to see you, Marni. Your performance in the game was quite impressive, you did extremely well!” Even if they were from another team, he did have to admit that seeing Marni and Lyon in the top positions brought a smile to his face. “Even if we belong to rival teams- and even if you refuse to come to class…in the end I still view you as my student. And as a result, your victories and your progress bring me much joy.”

“Great job, Marni. I am proud of you for being able to come this far into the games.”

With blond hair and light blue eyes, a casual observer might look between the two of them and imagine some sort of kinship. Father and daughter. Uncle and niece. Maybe even distant cousins with a generation gap between them.

Ironically, that same passing resemblance is the very reason Marni feels like she's on pins and needles every time he talks to her.

His appearance dredges up unpleasant feelings that she'd rather tamp down. No, rather than feelings, what she wants to tamp down are memories. Memories of useless brothers and a mother who only ever held her hand once, all blond haired and blue eyed.

(Her other family was better precisely because they didn't look like her at all.)

"'Come this far'? What, did you think I was some pathetic little weakling?" Marni furrows her brow and rests her hands on her hips. Is this guy looking down on her? Like she's some loser? "Of course I made it this far! It's because I'm stronger than everyone else that no one can even touch me! I won both last week and this week, so I'm totally gonna win next week, too!"

What happened the first week was only a fluke! If that stupid dragon hadn't been there, she would've swept that game without even breaking a sweat. It was bad luck, that's all.

...If it had just been anyone else.

Marni shakes her head, sending her ringlets bouncing, "Keep piling on the praise, but you're still not getting me to go to class! I'm not taking classes from someone worse at games than me!"

[rafent]

“Forgive me for the absolute chaos that developed soon after your entrance. I assure you that a…generalized knife fight was not in the plans. Anyway…make yourself at home. As much as you are able to, at least.”

“As for your situation with Professor Alfred, it is not my business so I shall not pry. But I will say, if anything happens, you have my support. I know you are a capable individual and that you most likely do not need someone to protect you, but…some support, even if moral, is good. Enjoy your stay.”

Though he did look like he went through hell, Lambert smiled softly. Who knew that he'd be talking like this to the man that moons ago he had been reprimanding at the Ethereal Ball.

The past few hours rife with a great many happenings, ever quickly could one outcome escalate to another. Confrontation, force, anguish, estrangement; nothing that evaded expectation for a Fell Dragon, much less one like Rafal who had meticulously, and painstakingly, once prepared those misfortunes as a spider would a web. However, this time they were not of his making, and he did not relish in the sensitive aftermath that settled afterward.

Busying his hands, burdened of mind, the dragon staking his claim over the empty bed adjacent to Griss' halted only at the other man's approach. Measly distractions abandoned. "There is no need for apology, Lambert. If we should speak of facilitating chaos, I believe I am even more responsible. Once more, you have my regrets that my affairs have brought your people into their crossfire."

Indeed; that Alfred should chase Rafal, that their waves should reach as far as these shores, the consequence had been a sea of utmost turbulence. But no matter that circumstance, still Lambert would offer his well wishes and - to Rafal - even an inch more. His quiet consideration succeeded the man's overture, an extension of good will that he knew to be sourced from unwarranted kindness. A kindness that he, reversely, did not recall demonstrating toward him during the ball.

"You would treat me well in spite of our first meeting, and even sympathize with my plight," he noted observantly, others lulled into easy acceptance of cordial sentiments and gentle smiles, whereas a child of Gradlon could only offer awe and vocal suspicion. "Such is unmerited, considering what troubles I have wrought for you then and now. But." The dragon's bashful glance moved untoward, sidelong and without meeting.

Curiously fixated on the ground. ". . .It goes greatly appreciated, nonetheless."

[quartzhearted]

[ Makeup Parlor ] [ sephora parent edition ]

"Alright, like the kids these days say...get those eyebrows on felek on something." He's a bit drunk, but determined. What he'll do though is left to the Goddess to decide.

"You're not escaping until I'm done."

"eh? the eyebrows on what? hey, be ca--!"

morion is nice and refreshed, with a bruise-free cheek and some more snacks in him. he's decided to stick to surveillance for the night so he doesn't miss out on any trickery he's supposed to put a stop to.

but everybody knows there can't be normalcy here, right?

suddenly he's accosted by lambert once again, but this time the guy seems a bit loopy. he must have had a bit more to drink than morion's seen. that's fine; dragons know morion does it often enough.

he does not, however, expect lambert to drag his arse down to a makeup parlor and essentially trap him in there. what?

now he's here. morion certainly prides himself on appearance and makes sure his beard is well-trimmed, but he's not sure what lambert is referring to here. is he going to shave his eyebrows off? is that what a felek is?

"uh... go easy on me?"

[blaiddllodi]

[ water ]

“Kid, are you okay? Like genuinely so?” Lambert had met this boy exactly…maybe four? Five times? In nearly all of those he seemed to have this haunted look behind his eyes which always left the professor wondering what could’ve caused it. Seeing him from afar he seemed fine, a friendly prince with an easy smile. But as soon as he got a closer look…

…well, now the kid looked like he had just seen a ghost in full resolution, and Lambert worried that he might pass out on the spot. Something about that look in his eyes made his heart break a little bit, though he wasn’t sure why. 

Maybe he had an idea why.

But it sounded ridiculous to his own mind.

“Drink some water and rest for a moment, will you? You look horribly pale, boy.” The party had just started too, did he manage to get plastered in record time somehow without Lambert noticing?! "I shall stay here until you look like you are not going to drop dead. Just rest."

Dimitri had come to recognize the voice when it spoke, not through any will of his own or any attempt at recognition, but because there was a section in his mind which had already seemed reserved for the sound, the rumbling timbre scratching a particular itch that he hadn't even been aware of until he heard it and felt the breath come out of him.

When he turned to greet the professor of Abyss, it was with a smile on his face, but the smile stuttered and flickered from his face for a moment -

"Mitya, drink some water, rest for a moment - you look - "

"Horribly pale, boy."

"A-ah?" He cleared his throat, fingers closing around the glass of water on instinct. "Do I? Perhaps I have been sleeping poorly..." He did not think that it had been much more poorly than any other night, but if this stranger came to him with such concern, he would not brush it aside so carelessly.

He forced the smile back onto his face, turning subconsciously to the warm glow of lights from the ballroom and taking a gentle drink of the proffered water. "I'm quite well, though, I assure you! It is a lovely night, and I would be loath to miss it!"

It was a lot of pomp and display, if he were being truthful, but there's no reason for him to extend this burden for this professor to shoulder - what need have he to bear it in the first place? It was for Faerghus, in the end, and so it was Dimitri's alone.

"You are too kind. Please, if you've other guests to attend to, I'm not so frail that I'm defeated by such an event as this."

[hresvelged]

Lambert knew who she was, it was part of this odd, confusing knot of information that somehow his brain found effortless to not only remember but unfurl over everything else. The last woman he had been married to, what their union meant to his demise, and finally the child she had but couldn’t get to because of circumstances he had yet to remember fully but that he knew had been because of some political disturbance.

After all, the girl was the imperial princess. Didn’t take many pieces into the puzzle to figure out the mess.

First find his son, and now be suddenly reminded that…he sort of has a step-daughter, doesn’t he? But she most likely doesn’t know much, even less remembers in the same way Lambert himself has little to no memories of Edelgard as a child. They most likely never properly met as family, and everything else was built simply on association and assumption.

“Edelgard?” He’d extend his sympathy to her all the same. Even if she doesn’t know, in the end she’s at the very least still a student amidst a bubbling war. “There you are. Because you and many of your classmates were not in the Academy when the attack happened, I was worried about your whereabouts. You do not seem to be too injured, thankfully.” He heard that there were attacks on the mountain pass too, so none had been spared.

He handed her a juicebox and a blanket, draping it over her shoulders before crossing his arms. “I know what you may be about to say- that you feel well and you have to stay on your feet. I have heard that plenty already.” There was a joking, yet caring tone in his voice. “But as a professor I do ask you to please take your time to rest. There is a lot for us to do indeed, however we must also take any and whatever chance available to recompose and ensure our body is well tended to. If you have any injuries, take good care of them.”

The quick lecture ended with a smile. “And do not forget to count on us for aid. I may not be a professor of the Black Eagles, but it is within my interest to ensure all students are faring well and receive proper support.”

Her tongue did spring to say she was fine. That she couldn't sit around and allow herself a moment of respite. But, she was beaten to those words. "Of course," she said instead.

"The mountain pass had its own share of turmoil, but we were able to see glimpses of Garreg Mach's wreckage. I'd be happy to tell you more if we find ourselves with the time." While she might normally refuse the blanket and beverage, Edelgard found herself willed to comply. When she looked at his face, she found it difficult to read. That, or perhaps she was viewing too deeply in a situation otherwise scorched by crimson.

"Thank you, Professor." The blanket weighed heavily on her shoulders. "And for your concern. I'd agree, too." Draping her fingers around the juice box, she looked up. "If I can rely on you and others for assistance, I'm in no position to refuse." She offered a smile of her own; small, yet significant for someone who frequented a stoic expression more than any other. Edelgard wanted to believe that, but wary eyes left an edge of uncertainty powering through. For now, she would keep elsewise at bay.

She would never fully relax, but she could at least allow herself to breathe. Rolling her shoulders back, she brought the juice to her mouth and took the smallest of sips. "I will do my utmost to reveal the truth. I swear that."

[warpaway]

“Linhardt, is it?”

Once he finally regained consciousness, Lambert carefully took in air to speak- minding the pain flaring up from the very act of breathing. It felt miserable, but even in this condition he knew better than to let it dominate this self and render him pitiable. “I do not remember much from the whole ordeal, and I am not even your teacher…however, I feel I must apologize regardless. I should have been more mindful that a student was with us, and considering our overall situation…I let my impulses dictate my actions. That was incorrect of me and resulted in more problems than solutions.”

He smiled, his expression sympathetic. “I did see your efforts in ensuring Innes’ wellbeing. Your work is commendable. Keep it up.”

"Take care out there."

linhardt hardly gets a break before they're being pushed with the others back on patrol. they would much prefer sitting by the fire, but apparently a semi-conscious wounded man is enough to tend to and defend it alone.

he doesn't get what came over his comrades. attacking each other like starved animals fighting over scraps of food, while the enemy - malformed creatures beyond linhardt's comprehension - watch on wordlessly.

some small part of them thinks the apology is warranted. the rest doesn't particularly care. if you apologize to a corpse, what does it matter, after all? any attack of that caliber means to kill, doesn't it?

linhardt merely hums in response. it's difficult to look the professor in the eye, so he doesn't.

what he does say, though, is: "i'll do my best."

[albwreckt]

"You are a tall one, boy! But you gave me an idea for a financial responsability class."

"And you're an old one, pal! But if I show up to your money-management thing, would you slide a guy some extra credit? I, uh, bent my last lance."

[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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

[thestaunchshieldvassel]

That was a sight that brought an odd bubbling hope to his heart.

It was a boy Lambert had spotted before many times now, always orbiting Dimitri like the loyalest of knights, though one that was completely unknown to him. It wasn’t even due to the nature of his lost memories- no, this boy was someone Lambert was confident he had never met before, but he did know where he was from as well as his name from a student profile. Yes, this boy was from Duscur. Lambert recognized the intricate and unique design on the piece of golden jewelry hanging from his earlobe, as well as other key features from his appearance- there was no doubt about it. 

Duscur.

The mere thought of that name sent a mixture of feelings down his spine. There was warm fondness and hopeful optimism, cheerfulness and energy, tainted by an ominous cold that gripped his throat as if trying to choke him. It wasn’t anything specific to the boy, no- but the place.

It was strange. Lambert doesn’t remember anything bad from there. Even as his memory faltered, there were no remnants of resentment or negative feelings, only shreds of hope that brought a smile to his face. He did wonder then, what must have happened there. Why did the mention of the place felt like a phantom standing at the corner of his eye as well as a burst of happiness.

Well, staring from afar wouldn’t change anything for better or worse. “Good day to you, I assume you must be a retainer of Prince Dimitri! Dedue, correct? A pleasure to meet you.” Lambert smiled warmly, offering a hand to shake. “My name is Lambert, a professor working…parallel to the Academy, to put it simply.”

"It brings me great joy to see people of Duscur in here."

It must have worked then, slipped out of his mind with context lost to him.

[tw: brief mentions of burning bodies]

It was a perplexing feeling bubbling in his chest, his mind discomfiting at the sight of a certain blonde man during the days and weeks of training. 

He had taken to task new skills he had always seen as an offshoot of his own already developing proficiency in physical arms and wears. He had heard back then of a new riding and lance instructor but had never put much thought into another man of considerable age with a propensity for people watching. Jeralt, for how standoffish he had seemed, reminded him greatly of this new instructor in that regard. But the man was much more… enthusiastic, even if more reserved on confronting him with what was on his mind. 

His indifference and noting the man was strange were backed up by Dimitri being out of sorts and his feet carrying him like the wind. An air of discontent around the young masters Dedue would not stand, should he be able to soothe his worries. But alas, he did not have the information Dimitri needed, and they were nowhere near settling the stirred-up emotions, only a promise between them to be vigilant of the man from thereafter. 

Time goes on, and while Dedue had never been a part of the man's interest at one point, someone had: the young lord himself. Dimitri’s moods, each path crossed, seemed to whirl the flames of something bitter. Dedue would have pushed the instructors to get involved so that he does not get into a fight with the staff; even though they are in Fodlán, it would not go well without proper suspicion on Dimitri's part. Dedue's word would be... void. To put it lightly. 

He shakes his head those days, listening to his lord and not being able to assist in anything but gravitating around him. The man never closes in when Dedue watches. Truly, it would have to be Dimitri's call, he sighs internally. 

Until the most recent shift in demeanor and shift in Dedue's priorities, it seemed Dimitri was the man's greatest concern. Looking into his schedule and what he wants to try for the future, besides training his axes and armor, was looking into lance work. Riding classes would also fix the issue of him leaving his lord without him at his side because Dedue could not keep up. Much to his chagrin those overlapping classes led him to now—crossed paths with the man whose eyes tried peeling a story from him, looking for either something more or maybe something familiar. Whatever he found, it all culminated into a smile and their first proper greeting.

Although Dedue found himself simply staring at the man even as his introduction was finished, he closed his eyes at the hopeful prospect of other Duscur students. A thickness in the air not from how guarded Dedue was to the man, but from how this next part must go. 

Behind his eyes he sees fire, charred flesh, smelt burning clothes, and an indiscernible scent of metal—unsure if it was boiling iron weapons or boiled blood within the confines of rubbery skin. He doesn't know if his face shows anything, but it doesn't matter anymore. 

He opens his eyes as the silence gets more awkward, the hand having been left hanging between them. Out of courtesy and wanting to put faith in Dimitri's wish to know the man better, at a detriment to either of them yet to be seen, he takes the offered hand to shake. 

“I am the retainer to his highness Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.” Because he is a student, he does confirm his name as well. “I indeed am designated Dedue Molinaro, sir.” 

In the small pause afterwards, he wonders many things in the span of milliseconds. Children of Duscur, here? What a wishful thought…

“And it's only me, sir.” And it'll only ever be me, he dooms.

[twistedisciple]

continued from here

So this guy’s got an angle after all. Truthfully, Griss would be more suspicious if he didn’t, but it’s not everyday that he meets someone fearless? daring? stupid? enough to want to get up close and personal with a wolf like that. And if this is some roundabout metaphor, then he knows even fewer people willing to have that dance with danger with him. An out-of-place serenity smooths his face as he looks ahead again, leading them both down a well-worn path back toward the center of the island, presumably toward the dormitories, and he nearly makes a quip about how Lambert must not have gotten bitten yet when the man’s revelation shuts him up before he can even start.

A dragon? Griss’ skips a step over a vine.

”Hold on.” He cuts a ‘stop fucking with me’ look over his shoulder. “Lemme make sure we got the same definition of a ‘dragon.’ Big, scaly thing with fangs as big as my hand, yeah? Can swallow a grown man whole?”

He stops and turns around, eyes the scar on the man’s shoulder. Sure, the guy’s got a few more of them, too, and sure, he looks pretty strong, but he’s in one piece. After a moment, Griss’ sneer comes back.

“Look, you don’t gotta impress me. Just say you got nipped by an overgrown lizard.” A shrug and he turns around again. “Doesn’t make a difference to me. You’re gonna be begging for a real dragon to eat you up once I’m done with you.”

He starts to laugh. “Or maybe it’ll get you the answer to that question. Why does pain fascinate me so much? Just lemme show ya—“

Whirling around, Griss swings the pocket knife he’d been using to chisel his coconut across Lambert’s chest.

@egittae

[ulircursed]

Now that the game had reached its end, Lambert could finally focus on thinking straight. And first of all…he needed to clear up something. Still smeared in clown makeup- though he had already discarded the frilly accessory that had been placed around his neck, he approached Andrei. “You and Kliff did well out there. Great job. Ah…well, I must also apologize for my reply to you before, it was a tad dry…as you saw, I was not exactly at my best condition.” That was an understatement.

“But there is something else I would like to talk to you about. I…” He still remembered how he had hugged the young man and felt him shuddering- crying in his arms. “...what happened, Andrei? I only heard some rumors and stray words in regards to you and some girls, in particular Bernadetta. Just…what happened?”

By the time the other pair exited the maze for the final time (quicker, he notes, than the first time they'd entered), Andrei had dismounted, a hand combing listlessly through Buttermilk's mane for lack of anything better to do. He looks up, slightly startled at the fact that Professor Lambert's face still looked like that — does the paint not come off?? — before shaking his head at the other's words.

"There is nothing to apologize for," he says quietly. As Lambert continues with his question, though, Andrei lowers his head, taking an involuntary step closer to his steed, eyes glued to Buttermilk's mane as though it held the answers to all his problems.

"...It's nothing to be concerned about," he finally answers. He'd all but fled from Lambert's sight the moment he had calmed enough to do so, and had hoped his air of nonchalance would simply bury the interaction in both their minds, but of course, that is an absurd wish. Of course he'd ask.

"Bernadetta and I have... come to an agreement." And that part isn't even false, though it's probably the only one of his interactions in the previous weeks that had a positive outcome. Andrei closes his eyes, letting out a slow exhale. "The previous weeks have been... taxing, is all," he admits carefully, still not meeting the professor's gaze, "I— I'm sorry for losing my composure in your presence, Professor."

[machiot]

@egittae sent:

"Marni..." She was one of the more difficult ones to handle. A strong and confident girl for sure with skill dripping from the blade of her ax, but impossible to get to class or discipline. "What is this scheme I hear of trying to take another teacher's shirt? You do not need me to tell you that this is not good..."

He crossed his arms. "How about we stop that and find something less...potentially troublesome to pass time with? Something that does not involve stealing people's clothes? How about you show me your ax technique?"

Uh oh, here comes the fun police to shut her down.

"What? No way," Marni says bluntly. "I was promised a whole mountain of praise if I pull this off. Besides, I can have you tell me how great I am with an axe any other day, but today is special! I'm not gonna have an opportunity like this again!"

This guy had been a major pain in her side ever since he showed his sorry face. What use did she have for all those stupid classes? She knows she's strong already and if she wants to get even stronger, experience has taught her that she'll need to do it on her own. Everyone else... is just a bunch of weaklings who would hold her back.

"Besides, me and His Kingliness go way back! I even knew him back when he was still just a prince, so don't butt in to a little joke between buddies. Or what, you're some kinda killjoy that hates friendship?"

She would not describe herself and Diamant as friends, like, ever, but this guy didn't need to know that.