#◈ 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."

[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?”

[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.”

[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."

[aubins]

“Yuri!”

The day the monastery was attacked, Lambert left the Abyss as soon as he was able to for the sake of joining the battle. A forced retreat meant there was no time to go back there and check on its inhabitants, much less on whether the rest of the Ashen Wolves were even aware of what was happening or were okay in the first place. Lambert knew going back there wasn’t an option, at least not for the time being.

But he thought about them every day, wondering if they had managed to escape and protect themselves somewhere.

Seeing Yuri still there, well and standing, brought a sigh of relief Lambert didn’t know he had been holding all this time. Even if the Abyss too wasn’t left completely intact, it didn’t seem like their enemies had managed to actually find a way in. And whatever Ashen Wolves that stayed had held down the fort, for all this time. 

Approaching the House Leader, Lambert placed a hand on their shoulder- most likely the first time he had ever done so without a glove or gauntlets, as instead his skin sported bandages and still healing injuries. His face was much the same- pale skin covered by gauze, bruises, burns and cuts, but the smile was warm, fond, and ignored any and whatever signs of pain. “You have been here all this time, have you not? Ensuring their safety.”

“Forgive me for leaving you behind. I would not dare risk returning here and possibly be followed by one of our enemies. They were absolutely everywhere…to the point I spent much of my time wondering of the Abyss and its condition.”

A pat on the shoulder, over the Wolves’ ivory cape. “To know that you are okay after all this chaos brings me much peace. Allow me to once more join you in protecting this place.”

“And-” He lifted one finger. “I am doing absolutely fine, these injuries are nothing.” Huff- though followed by a light laugh. "I will figure out a way to restore my armor sooner or later."

“you look like shit.”

sharp and to the point, but more than anything, simply relieved. still, the mockingbird meets the professor halfway first, circling him with a tilted head and an appraising gaze before their steps draw to a slow stop before him once more. looks like professor lambert, sounds like professor lambert, acts like professor lambert—they'll take their chances with it.

“ever the professor, even after you've been through hell and back. how dutiful of you.” but there's a hint of relief in the creases of a wry smile, in the slump at the slope of their shoulders. a request for forgiveness is waved off with a laugh and a shake of their head. “if you brought back a tail, then we'd have problems.”

lilacs follow the hand that goes to pat at their shoulder, amused, but says nothing of it. “and,” yuri mimics instead, raising a finger just as lambert had, “you still look like shit. seeing me might've brought you peace but seeing you doesn't bring me any.”

arms fold over one another, an unconvinced brow raising as they pointedly look him up and down. “i'll get hapi to take a look at you later. so don't run, or i'll ask her to sic a monster on you.” do they mean it? do they not? it's hard to say—their steady gaze betrays no hint of whether it is levity or gravity that colors their tone. “for my own peace,” they add, and here their lips twist into a smirk, “or maybe i won't forgive you for disappearing after all. how could my own professor abandon me? unthinkable!”

their gaze sobers, a hand lightly tapping lambert's arm in farewell as they brush past. “i'll only say it once, professor: i'm glad you're alive, so don't go hurrying to run yourself so ragged that doesn't matter.” a glance over their shoulder as they pause briefly. “and don't get stabbed before you get your armor back, yeah?”

and with a final nod of their head in parting, yuri slips back into chaos of the underground city.

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

[warpaway]

Lambert was extremely aware that his crest was a potential liability. Not as a safety risk- no. Well, it was but that wasn’t the point. The professor was no crest specialist, but it didn’t take one to be aware of which crests were more or less common in Fódlan’s general population. Some crests bled out of their original houses long ago, now popping up every now and then in other territories without much hassle. Others however existed in a much tighter hold, as random individuals manifesting it could cause a succession crisis for the noble house’s next lord.

He was well aware that the crest he has was one of those. It was painfully obvious either way, of course a royal family would take extra care to avoid having its crest escape its grasp so as to not deal with a barrage of claims to the throne. For those not from Fódlan, Lambert could easily undermine his case or lie. For those native to the continent and better versed in the topic however, he wasn’t too sure how to navigate the problem yet.

And then there was this kid.

Lambert couldn’t just say ‘you saw nothing’ and end it there. The kid saw it. The kid inquired on it- and seemed fixated on it as well. There was no avoiding and yet he had to hold the truth well over Linhardt’s head, out of reach. “Look- about what you saw…I will have to ask you to keep it under wraps and not mention it to anyone.” His tone was hushed, though calm.

lambert approaching linhardt excites him in the way only his interests can. he's already smiling by the time the blond is in front of him, and is more than happy to let him speak before rushing into a litany of questions and inquiries that he's been accumulating since the moment he first saw the man's crest in action.

what he says is ultimately no deterrent to linhardt. never had they been one to go around brandishing their research; they much prefer their scientific endeavors to remain personal. they only do it for themself and their own interests, after all. no one needs to know what linhardt saw, and as far as they see it; they don't owe any of their other companions that night an explanation either.

"that isn't a problem at all, lambert," linhardt replies, "i have no interest in exposing secrets to the public, no matter what they may offer me."

he waves his hand dismissively, smiling softly. "that doesn't mean i'm not deeply curious about how you acquired it. are we isolated enough that you won't mind divulging? we can go outside. i have my notebook right here - thankfully, it's survived everything we've been through, though it certainly is worse for the wear."

linhardt pulls it from their pocket, along with a pencil they always keep at hand - it's the only way linhardt has ever prepared themself in their entire life. they open to a random page, one that by all account looks to be full of scribbles and loops. it's his own shorthand, that he's developed personally, and he shows it to lambert as a demonstration of trust.

"see? no one will know. this is my personal cipher, let's say."

having shown him their notes, they quickly flip to a blank page and position their pencil expectantly over the page. "so, let's start - what's your full name?"

[princessmacedon]

“Maria!” The professor was quick to run up to her. “There you are. Good to see you in good shape.”

She was one of the Lions, and that was essentially what Lambert knew. He had never come across the young girl before, at most having only spotted her in the distance occasionally. In the end he has grown to perceive her as a powerful healer with quite the mastery over light magic- and a pure, innocent heart.

Sometimes to a fault. At least in his personal view.

“I shall not underestimate your capabilities in combat, but it worried me regardless. You carried yourself out there with focus and bravery, great job.” A concerned frown reached his features. “You took quite the beating in some of our battles however…are you doing well?”

It is quite the rare occasion for Maria to receive a compliment on her combat skills of all things, indirect or otherwise; the (pleasant!) surprise rounds her expression, so much so that she forgets to greet him in turn.

"Really?" Oh, but she cannot help that little sparkle in her eye, that thing of many names -- sometimes hope, sometimes remnant dreams, this time the vestiges of a girl who chose not to chase long-stretching shadows yet never could turn her eyes away from them. Chin and lips press into her palm in a bid to stifle this ill-timed happiness, but an upturned corner peeks out the other side nonetheless. "Thank you, Professor! I always do my best -- I have to keep up with everyone, after all!"

Her head cants, his inquiry not forgotten as that irrepressible warmth mellows in response. "Yeah," she answers him, because the word is in the shape of a smile, "I'm okay. Thank you for worrying about me--" In truth, she worries more over her equipment than herself, and what it means for her ability to help. "--but!" A playful finger points at him, though earnest concern catches the light in her eyes. "I'm more worried about you, Professor! I wasn't there when it happened, but I saw the way you looked when all of you came back."

It needn't be said. Lips purse slightly, then part before smiling again, this time in warmth and measured calm.

"I'm safe because you protected us. So let me help you too, okay?" Soft laughter chimes in the wake of her words. "Go get some rest! I'll bring you something yummy!"

[hresvelged]

Their last conversation had ended on a good note, at least to him. The reaction he saw was a better start than if they had thrown around names left and right- even more since he never intended to share the truth in such a manner.

But now, he seeks her for something else. “Edelgard? I see that your team is back from Enbarr. Good to see you.” From what he caught by simply walking around the group, it seemed that even the capital was in a state of disarray. A troubling idea, but at the same time he thought it was good that Edelgard had been there to witness it.

“Though the territory my group had been sent to is not under your house’s rule, it is part of the nation you are to rule over soon…and so I thought it would have been sound of me to give you feedback from my experience. Take this as words from a knight of a neighbouring country.” Her poise was at least, reassuring enough. Let’s hope her words and actions are the same.

“Putting this bluntly, I saw more bandits and beasts roaming the town than citizens. I do not need you to apologize for the state the city was in, but I need you to become fully aware of what your country looks like. Not a single spot must be left blind, lest it is allowed to fester.” Unable to cross his arms as one sat in a sling, his free hand rested on his hip. “And if I may…I know Adrestia does not possess the affinity and tradition towards knights as Faerghus does, and I am not implying it should be the same, either. But among the bandits, I saw knights. Armors in decay, bodies frail as if left to starve. Their goal was invading homes and most likely killing its owners to claim it for themselves- in the end our only option was to kill the man.”

A sigh- and behind the fatigue and injuries, his gaze was firm. Not the type to belong to a teacher or even a knight, but perhaps something more- from one lord to another. Or maybe it was a trick of light, coming from a few torches nearby. “These men and women are your country’s bones, teeth and claws. The moment you abandon them, your nation becomes soft and defenseless as its own blade turns against itself- a bandit gang is a nuisance, a horde of knights turning to crime is the first step to a paramilitary group that can grow so fast that by the time your lords become aware of it, it is too late.”

“Care for your people, but do not turn your back on men and women whose jobs are to devote their lives to you. They know the layouts of every capital and fortress in this empire, including your palace. Careful, Edelgard.”

She is glad she went to Enbarr— To see its streets and glimpse the Imperial Palace. Most of all, to show the people she will always be at the ready to arrive. Their ally.

Edelgard did not ask for feedback. She receives it all the same and provides her attention. "Your knowledge as a knight is certainly extensive..," she muses as she carefully listens. "I'd have no reason to apologize even if I wanted to. I understand Adrestia has its flaws. I've seen it myself." The world obscuring her eyes is desolate; empty. "We do lack knightly tradition, yes. But, in return.. Our military might is far stronger than any other. The knights you saw must have become that way only because.. Well, that is simply the way of the world right now. I doubt that is any different in other regions." Her fingers tighten.

He spoke of endings— Of finalizing someone because they saw it as the only option. Of the Empire's unrest compared against Faerghus and Leicester. The girl sighs and crosses her arms. "You are saying the ends of eliminating someone was your only choice. I wasn't there, of course. But.. Was it? Without knowing their intents for certain, do you believe it just? I'm only curious on your perspectives."

She looks up, then away. Perhaps she is not so different, in some regard. ".. Never mind. Your answer changes nothing. This only proves that Fódlan cannot stay the way it is. The fault of that is neither yours nor mine."

No matter how much time may pass, her immovable will remains relentless. "If there is one thing you must know about me, let it be this— I will never abandon my people. As emperor, I will vow that to be so. Your caution is noted, nonetheless. I will take your words into consideration."

[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