#cielenruine

[dcggersedge]

@cielenruine | cont

The collar is already gone, removed from her neck the moment they returned from their strange performance. So why is it that every thing Matthias says feels like another little jolt to her confused brain?

"The way I...speak to him?" She repeats slowly. What does that mean. What does that mean? She doesn't remember speaking to him any differently from how she speaks to everyone else except for. You know. The...lessening? Of the lying? Was that it? But Matthias shouldn't know she's a rotten liar either!

"I...I don't get it? How do I speak to him?" And how does he speak back that might've tricked anyone into thinking she had a place to call hers?

Yunaka laughs, a little desperately, raising her hands to scrub at her face. Still human. That's funny. She'd been nothing more than a tool at the hands of the script and Helena. Almost like home, here she was murdering by the demand of others again! Like she learned nothing!

And he praised that!

"I'm not..." She drops her hands back down to her sides with a sigh. When she meets Matthias's eyes again, she's not bothering to plaster on the cheerful smile or quick wit. They're both too tired for that. "I'm like, the farthest thing from a knight, Matthias. And I don't think Rafal even likes me, let alone employs me."

She hadn't answered his first question. She waves at her back. "It hurt. I'll be fine."

[doyouevenliftbrooo]

🎨

"Woah, you're huge! Alright, alright. I've got this."

"Check THIS out. It's your rooster's bust to fend off rivals. Sick, right?"

(( hi kuno i love ur old man ))

[hermidetta]

Waking up covered in his own blood wasn’t foreign to him. Nor was the sensation of feeling like he was in an entirely unfamiliar place. The light that had seemingly enveloped him took more than a few blinks to go away and he finds himself recognizing…the dining hall… Ah. That was right. Their counter attack. Maria and…Hugh…they weren’t anywhere in sight amongst the corpses that littered the once lived halls but his attention turned back to where he had left her. Tables are thrown to the side and he kneels down. A finger rests to check her pulse and she is breathing but…slowly. It made sense. “It’s not going to be an easy recovery.” He speaks, if she can hear him or not, he says it regardless. Bruised arms slink beneath her and she is lifted.   By now, the infirmary had to have been reestablished. “But you’ve so many friends and a great leader who will be at your side the whole way,” he said as smile crept onto his face and he began making the trek, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re back to yourself in no time.” Not that he was someone who had even known who that was. She had taken that hit for him. Her state now…it had been his own weakness. He wavered and she had seen. As they make it to the infirmary, he finds an open bed to place her on. Judging from those who were around them here…perhaps if they had lived, that healing would have taken away all injury. But they had not. Whatever spell had been cast had worn itself thin simply retrieving them. “Your sacrifice...” he couldn’t help but scoff as he looked off. “To stay back and accept such a fate so I might not die alone…many would call it silly…I would call it silly and yet I cannot thank you enough for it.” “For what you have done for me…what you’ve been doing for Lambert long since I arrived…I promise I’ll repay your actions in kind, Bernadetta.” As much as he ached, he would be fine. He hoped the same would be the case for her. “Until then, please rest up.” And he was gone, off to finally put an end to the unrest he’d been feeling. He could only hope Sylvain wasn’t hitting on whoever’d ended at his side.

the world is silent.

bernadetta opens her eyes. she is enclosed by an endless maze of hedges with no entrance nor exit in sight. all that surround her now are flowers—lush blooms of every size, shape and color she had thought imaginable, and even those she had not. the greenery is alive. she is not.

two rabbit's feet, adorned by white ribboned slippers, rustle down the grassy aisle. they round a corner. two corners. three, four, six, eight. eight, and eight, and eight. how many times had she counted eights?

eight, she starts to mouth again when the blade drives into her side.

(steel meets her skin—— she always had thin skin—— she——)

she glances down where red blooms from her wounds, dying her light dress. something trickles down her forehead; her hand swipes at it and yields a crown of white flowers soaked red, too.

something tickles her throat until she coughs up iron and petals—the metallic tang on her tongue thick as honey.

bernadetta blinks and finds herself in the dining hall. she is back in her uniform. bodies and rubble litter the floor; everything is cold, so cold. she looks to one of the places she feels numb and makes out the indent of jaws in rent flesh.

another blink. she is back in the maze, but crumpled to the ground, ribbons streaming behind her silhouette like wilted flowers, like sparks off a falling star. viscous paint soaks the hedges around her, colors and patterns of their leaves left unintelligible like her once white dress.

blink. the dining hall again. a man with red hair is cradling her. she cannot see exactly what expression he wears. she hopes it is happier than hers. she hopes it is not lonely.

when bernadetta's eyes fall shut to blink again, this time she keeps them closed. she is afraid to open them back to that ruined white dress and another ruby sea. part of her heart urges the rest of it that she might be fine to keep those eyes shut for good.

It's not going to be an easy recovery.

she feels her nose twitch—the figuratively-dying protest from the muscles in her face, petulant from the idea of suffering down a road to recovery when she could just let go now. can't she just go now?

But you’ve so many friends and a great leader who will be at your side the whole way.

does she? dare she believe they could care for her the way she does them?

For what you have done for me...what you’ve been doing for Lambert long since I arrived…

but even lambert had no use for her anymore, did he? not when he had found others; everybody finds others, everybody finds others, like—

"pro... essor... mat... hias...?" professor matthias? a cough claws up her throat.

I promise I’ll repay your actions in kind, Bernadetta.

finally, bernadetta opens her eyes to a familiar ceiling. her body feels stiff. bound. a spike of panic bounces down her spine before she realizes it all hurts too much to move even if she wanted to. had she been captured? no. she is so certain in her uselessness that bernadetta already knows the enemy would have left her for dead. that only meant...

"...alive," she mumbles, head dipping back on her pillow with a sigh. "somehow... ow... bernie's alive."

too bad at existing, too bad at dying. never one to overachieve, she sets it all aside for now, heeds matthias's advice and drifts back off to sleep.

[hresvelged]

“Yours is a face I least expected to see here.”

His tone is amicable. He offers a smile he hopes distracts enough from the bandage he's had fashioned to his cheek.

 “Everyone has fought quite fiercely this year. It seems some nerves and anger might still have held out from the moon before last.”

He waves her over to the chair beside him.

 “I may not be a Black Eagle's professor, but I cannot hide the fact that I’m interested to hear about your battles and what you may need to improve upon for the future.”

"Yours as well."

She bobs her head. Partaking in a mock battle will not change reality. Nothing can erase the crimson mountain passes and walls hiding truths. "It wouldn't surprise me if there are those who didn't participate for that very reason."

Edelgard silently walks over to the seat and crosses one leg over the other. Her hands sit in her lap, fingers laying at her sides. She looks directly at the Margrave as she speaks and notes the bandage on his face. She doesn't know what caused it, but she doesn't comment on it. A wandering glare all but momentary.

"Certainly. I have nothing to hide." Her back does not touch the chair. She keeps herself propped upright. There are many directions she could begin, but it is a matter of what to say. "Hm.. Well. This time, I used a sword." An intentional pause, not elaborating on it any further. No matter. "When first I fought, Professor Yunaka is the one who gave me openings."

There is no change in her tone. "I was lighter on my feet, but what found its way near me most often were sets of bows and arrows."

[deliverred]

It was highly unusual to be left waiting for too long. Sometimes things ran over, students needed help and Lukas had always been such a kind soul to help them but today was…an exception. Their tea had gone cold as had the snacks and he found himself warming both up and handing them out where it seemed a child of the church or a student might have appreciated the treat. The table had been offered to a few students who’d yet to reciever their own brew and he was off to find his odd middle child. The training grounds proved empty as did most other halls he recalled the young man traversing. His brows knit together and suddenly he found his feet traveling to the young man’s room.

A gentle knock was offered and a response was waited for but after a few moments, the door cracked open and he…found himself stunned. “Lukas…?” Matthias stepped into the room quietly and made sure to close the door behind him. He wasn’t unused to this sight. Between Sylvain, Miklan, and the soldiers that were often found that way in their barracks, he understood a bit…too well what might have happened but to see it occur to Lukas… “I was wondering what emergency might have kept you and it seems to be the worst of them all.”

A seat was taken at the end of Lukas’s bed and Matthias found himself leaning over his own legs. “These things do pass…but they will only do so smoothly if you’re clear with others. I…won’t ask you to tell me all of it or any of it at all…but to have you in here like this means it’s something you know needs to be handled.” A hand reached over and gently rubbed the man’s back. Comfort had never been and would never be his strongest suit but he wouldn’t let that be due to not attempting to do so. “People aren’t as simple as they might seem, all the more in moments like what I’m sure has caused you such a wobbly heart.” While he meant the words, he did offer a small shake to him.

“I’m sure they’re worried.” In hindsight, he didn’t know much about those who Lukas was around though…he couldn’t imagine that they’d be the type to be happy with things as they were now.

Lukas doesn't particularly recall making his way back to his quarters, nor any other plans he'd had for that day.

It had been a beautiful day, truth be told. The sun was out, but the air was cool enough to offset it; leaving the day wonderfully balanced. But as soon as he reaches his room, the door is shut on the day and his vision is cast into muted shadow.

Not that he's really seeing what's in front of him at the moment. He rests with his back against the closed door for a prolonged moment, doesn't register the thunk of his head against the wood as he stares into the dead space of his room.

He stays there for an undeterminable amount of time before blinking, eyes feeling gritty.

He pulls in a weary breath, lets it whisper through his lips before pushing off the solid wood of the door to blindly stumble in the direction of his bed. His legs connect with the frame and he lets gravity carry him forward onto the mattress with little care to where he falls; he just misses bashing his skull into the wall.

Lukas lays there with his legs hanging off the side of the bed for a moment before curling up onto his side, knees partially pulled up and arms laced tight against his middle. It's something he's seen others do in an attempt to self-soothe before, though it doesn't really ease the dreadful feeling inside him, nor does it offer much comfort.

The knock to the door goes unheard, likewise the fact that someone is entering until he feels the bed dip with someone else's weight. He's only taking up half of it, curled up as he is, so there's plenty of room for another.

It takes a while for the words to sink in, but when they do, there's another weight added to him. "Matthias, I should have...sent you word. I...," Lukas trails off, words heavy on his tongue as he flicks his gaze to a different spot on the wall. "My apologies."

These things pass...

"I handled it-- I attempted to handle it," he amends, fingers digging in just above the bend of his elbows. "It's difficult to be clear with others when they refuse to see what's in front of them."

The touch against his back is unexpected, and Lukas finds himself frowning in vague bewilderment at the offering of comfort.

It might have been a little awkward, but it does accomplish the task of pulling Lukas out of the tight ball he'd wound himself up in. He felt horribly stiff, distantly wondered how long he'd laid there in that position, before doing his best to shuffle around to properly speak with Matthias without accidentally kicking the man in the process.

Hm. Still had his boots on. He'd have to shake out his blankets later.

"...I rarely assume people to be simple. Everything that goes into...being them is complicated, and trying to understand it all feels like I'm piecing together another language at times," he murmurs, running a palm over his face. Lukas sighs, lets that same hand fall to his chest, presses hard until he can feel the unbothered beat of his heart.

"Is that what this is? An issue of the heart?"

Then take it out. Remove it. What good did it do him, caged in the ice of his ribs? If he could hold it in his hands, bloody and heaving, he could at least prove that it existed outside of his own desire for it to. Maybe then, free of him, it could be what it was supposed to be.

He smiles, fingers curling into the material of his shirt.

"I'm not sure they should worry. They have better things to turn their attention toward, and all I've done is try to sully the happiness they've found."

[mmoneystones]

"I don't believe I ever caught your name." He was apologetic in the slight bow he offered to her before coming to rest in the sand not far from where she was seated. "I must apologize if I came off as...cold in our game. In the end...it resulted in this. Though even now is an opportunity." A smile and a slight lift of the shaved ice. "Perhaps it's the 'Queen' or 'Ringmaster' telling us to use our time to know one another and correct our mistakes." Stilted always were these introductions. He'd done them a hundred times over yet he offered the best smile he could to her. "My name is Matthias, I'm a professor for the Blue Lions who's just made my way here. Though some may refer to me as Margrave is they hail from Faerghus as I hail over the northern region. It's good to meet you...even if the introductions are late."

Citrinne turns up to see the familiar face of the teammate that greatly contributed to their recent bout through Wonderland. After nodding at his bow, she scooched slightly away so that he could have some more space to lie in the sand.

“Nor have I, on the name part, that is,” Citrinne returns his smile with a less wide one, but it holds warmth all the same. “I am Citrinne. A noble warrior of Brodia, my home from Elyos. You may remember it as one of those books that were burnt during our final stand.”

So this Matthias…was a noble of this very land? An interesting ally, especially when they’ve been allied for the previous month. The Brodian actually feels guilty for not getting acquainted during the rest of all of this Happyland chaos. “Would you answer better to Magrave Matthias, then? It’s admittedly a bit of a mouthful - Citrinne is enough for me, by the way. I am merely a Knight of Seiros here.”

Now that introductions were out of the way, she leans a fair bit closer toward Matthias in case some of the others were sneaking earfuls. “May I be honest? You never sounded that cold, at least to me. I more remember the times we agreed on some form of answer rather than debate, or more so less arguing after the first batch of questions.”

“If it weren’t for your authority, I doubt that we would have left that strange dungeon before the sun set,” Citrinne waves a hand toward the fading orange on the waves. “While I hold no interest in knowing that Queen, it is good to know she gave me the chance to meet a fair amount of allies.”

[rafent]

"I see you spent quite a bit of time with the blacksmith." It had been risky, but the Margrave felt himself responsible for a once over of the people before he set back off. One might even think of it as some sort of homesickness. "He was quite sad you all couldn't stay longer, he even asked me to relay a message saying come back as soon as time allowed." "All of that is to say, thank you. I've nothing I can give now to properly express it but I assure you, you'll know the spoils of Gautier far better after a while." The Margrave turned to look at the rest of the people around them. "...In the end we could only do this because of everyone gathered here...regardless of so many things that would set us apart, here we are working together." "Rafal," he spoke softly, more as if he felt ashamed for even asking such a thing. "If it had been possible...how many do you think would have left?" "I can certainly understand the sentiment...Fodlan is nothing but a temporary home for some at best and a brief retreat from the lives they're raring to return to...I wonder if we were elsewhere, how many of Fodlan's would have chosen such an option as well..."

Arms as full of chores as of weapons. Fruitful his party's endeavors and weary their legs with excitement enough to confine one to a fortnight of rest. Between informal apprenticeship at the anvil and ensnarement at the inn, the recent trip to a newfound city would not be easily forgotten in more ways than one. Rafal reckoned that the passing of a thousand years would not be sufficient for fading its memory. As for his opinion on those uniquely involved?

Friendly face, ease of welcome, and a warmth to rival smelting fires. Thinking of these–or desiring strictly not to think of them—the presence of pinkly dusted earlobes hinted at his embarrassment. ". . .A plainly ridiculous notion. How might one ever feel sad for someone known across the sparsity of a single day?"

So was said, yet perhaps there were something to be said of reflection; how curious the void that might form in the absence of someone who had taught him so much in so little time. The heart was a fickle muscle, could be the only explanation, prone to attachments and misguided claims of substance where there existed little to none. Rafal shook his head gruffly, as much to ward off a sentimental deluge of thoughts as to answer Matthias with just one.

"Think nothing of it, my actions were unremarkable. The adversities trivial."

Adversities that, by the very tone of the other man, had not been totally left behind with the city they'd departed from. Shifting of the invisible, minuscule though it was, caught both eye and ear. The dragon considered what he was asked and answered it with honesty, a stable presence of mind that faltered for nothing. Not even to spare the feelings of one silently acknowledged a friend.

"The possibility of deserters is impossible to place a finger on. Even more futile to be troubled by. Many who remain will do so for as long as it serves their interests. This will not change, Matthias, whether you should fear the outcome or not." A glance to the nondescript crowd before them bustling with faces and people; crimson watching as if for someone. More than one. "Preserving oneself, preserving one's treasures, these are reasons greater than any allegiance to a place."

Return to Matthias, calm and unblinking: "However, there exists a second constant: so long as there is merit to remaining here, you shall find those who will stay."

[twistedisciple]

Understanding what seemed incomprehensible had been a fun pastime, usually. When it came to his teammate whose appearance had firmly spelled out mercenary in only the most menacing of terms, he felt a bit ill at ease.

”As it happens that we’re teamed together, I’d like to understand your strengths.”

Introductions could come after. More than that his curiosity had been piqued. Between the shirtlessness, the piercings, and the tattoos it was clear an appeal to authority would be ill advised. He knew an agent of chaos when he saw one.

Not the worst way to start a conversation, Griss thinks. Up until now, they’d been sitting in silence, which is - at least for Griss - unusual, but he’d been too consumed by the task of stoking the fire in the pit to bother anyone else. Now he looks up at the older man sitting on the other side, an eyebrow raised beneath his shaggy hair.

“Guess you have a point,��� he concedes, for once surprisingly reasonable. Embers lift up and disappear into the dusky night with one final push against the main log, and then he withdraws the stoker to hold across his lap.

This question reminds him a little of when he was still just a pup in a duo two people short of being called Four Hounds. What had he told Zephia all those years ago?

“I’m real good at killing.” He’s proud and nonchalant at the same time, without a hint of remorse or shame. Even though, back then, those words hadn’t come from the blood-soaked, mute child Zephia had asked to meet. “And figuring out all the ways a person can be hurt.”

With a smile wreathed in shadow and eyes glinting with firelight, he gazes through the flames at the man on the other side.

“I’ve been told I can get too,” grin widens, “distracted though. But killing ‘em fast is so boring. They gotta get some good hits on me too. So!” He slaps his palms against his knees and sits up like they’ve just completed some sort of business transaction. “You got someone you want me to kill? Maybe one of those cute little sheep would look good in red.”

[renaisguy]

"I hope it's treated you well, that lance." The margrave offers the greeting with a smile. "But I've once more a proposition." He handed out the spear. Brand new, nary a scratch on it. "People work best with the weapons they know. I thought it might be better to get you a new one of what you had rather than something else." Well that and of course, it wasn't as if they had unlimited options. "A trade once more?"

Matthias gives Forde the Spear(30/30)

“Matthias, glad to see you’re holding up.” The lance Forde was gifted has served him well. Very well, actually, he’s not sure he would have survived the past two weeks without it.

“I’ll be sad to see it go.” He admits, handing it over. “It’s a little worse for wear, but I hope it serves you well.”

He takes the spear. It’s not the same one he started with, but it makes no difference. It feels the same, it weighs the same, and he’s sure it’ll throw the same.

“Thank you.”

Forde gives Matthias the blessed lance (7/40)

[ulircursed]

🐴

"I never had the chance to thank you for welcoming my rider and myself into your homeland. I found it very pleasant there." It was a little foggy, sure, and the humans there were noisy and skittish, which is probably why Andrei ended up so stressed out, but Buttermilk never felt anything out of the ordinary. It was a nice city. "If I ever get the chance, I'd love to visit once more."

[nagaficat]

While it had been his house to reign victorious, the celebration still included all. Their conversation had lent him to seeking her out. It was a funny repeat of history. Truly it was. From her back alone, he could tell she was thoughtful, someone on weighed on her mind and seeing as this was her, he was certain he knew what about. He takes a seat at her side. Though a bandage covers his cheek now, he won't allow her to use it to deflect from this conversation. "I'll first ask; would you like to talk about it or need you simply someone at your side?"

"Am I so obvious?" She forces a small smile and makes room next to her. She has never been good at hiding her feelings.

She is not sure what she wants. A friend at her side, most definitely. But does she want to speak of it? She has, at least, already shared most of her secrets with him. If there is anyone who might understand, perhaps it is him.

"First, please allow me to congratulate you on your house's victory. It has been a long time coming and I am glad to see everyone celebrating so cheerfully." She does mean that. As heartbroken as she is, she can still appreciate the joy around her.

"I have only just heard some terrible news and I am afraid I am finding it hard to fully participate in the celebrations. You see, I am a widow again. Even though I had not been able to see him in years, I still feel so terribly alone. And the Ethereal Ball is so soon too..."

[dcggersedge]

"I did mean it back there. I'm certain things would've turned out different had there been a second spared before you spurred the rest of us to act." It was remiss to think things would even begin to come close to what they once had been. Things changed, such was life. So long as she was still living, it was fine. "And I was curious...I believe they were...terrors where Lukas was from but I don't think I've ever run across anything quite like the corrupted you mentioned." Between that and the emblem rings...there was a lot he didn't know about the place she was from.

"If you'd like me to forget all I heard and return to seeing you as a professor, I have no qualms in sparring you that trouble." He'd need to be blind to notice how quickly it was she retreated into herself, only to find solace in a sword. "Selfish as it is, I would like to know more about where you come from, even if all I can offer in return is my knowledge of Fodlan."

So did I save you, or am I a quick to violence idiot?

Yunaka had found a tree to lean against, where she could watch both where everyone gathered to prepare for what would be, allegedly, their final stand, and the edge of the forest in case that fog from earlier attempted to roll its way over them. Her eyes remain focused on the distance, even as Matthias came over to speak with her, flicking back and forth between the two points.

She doesn't feel like talking. It doesn't seem there's anywhere she can go to get away from it either. She crosses her arms and tugs the cape Fogado gave her around herself.

"I don't know what Terrors are." The words fall out flatly against the ground, one after the other. There's no inflection to her tone, only a flat monotone as she continues to watch. Rafal knows all about them sits poised on her tongue for a moment before she lets it die. "It's like I said. They're dead bodies, raised by a Fell Dragon. Nothing more than that."

Why does everyone tell her that? The past doesn't matter? That they can all just forget it? Oh, who you were doesn't matter, Yunaka when CLEARLY IT FUCKING DOES.

Can't solve anything. Supposed to be a villain. Violent and merciless.

She wonders if Aeschylus is right. She wonders if she's going to die here. At this point...if it helps the others, it isn't the worst option available.

"I was hired as a professor. That's it." If she keeps telling herself that, then maybe one day it will be true.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I don't want to talk right now."

[nabataprophet]

"I believe I owe you thanks. While we were able to get tomes," notably, he held one in hand. "It was a joint effort." "And one that it seems even extended out to assisting the people of Gautier." The tome was held out to her and a small nod was offered. "I'll have to repay you properly for your assistance when I'm able, but for now one of the spoils your efforts helped procure."

Matthias gives Sophia Dark Spikes(20/20)

While Sophia's own shopping excursion had been unsuccessful on the actual shopping front, never actually managing to make it over to the marketplace on account of the unfortunate number of golems that had shown up every time they stepped out of the blacksmith's shop, it seems the other groups had managed it in their stead.

Sophia accepts the proffered tome, but shakes her head as she does so.

"No... all I did... was get rid of a few enemies. Edelgard... was the one actually helping people. Her presence... was a great help for making sure all of the citizens... moved to safety in time."

She hugs the tome tightly to her chest.

"This tome... is all the thanks I need. Anything else... please make sure it finds its way to Edelgard."

[stellalimned]

"You did well." The words are spoken gently. "I apologize that we were unable to find proper tomes for you in our journey both times. Even if it means we must eventually resort to less ideal means...you are far too capable to left without a means to use your talents." He turns in an effort to dismiss himself before making one last remark. "At the tavern, I don't believe he was trying to antagonize you. People's consideration and care, it manifests in many different ways. I hope that you are able to make more bonds, even in this unfortunate situation."

Nothing can compare to Lord Nergal's praise. This I have believed even after coming here to Fodlan, for I was made to serve him, and though it was only natural that I completed the missions he entrusted to me to perfection, his praise was a reaffirmation that I was the best, his finest creation and most valued weapon. Even if I did not need his praise, that he would make the effort to give it says everything in and of itself.

Professor Matthias's praise is... warm. As a father to his child, a teacher to his prized student. It is different from my master's. For one, it is proof that I have succeeded after a failure from which I thought I would never recover, and for it to come after a failure at all... Lord Nergal would have sooner thrown a failure away than allow it a second chance. For another, it is personal, not a foregone conclusion, but something I have earned because I failed and tried again. I do not know how to respond to it, and I duck my head while I attempt to piece together something to say in turn.

"... Your feedback is... valued. It is because of your assent that I understood I was proceeding correctly and thus will be able to perform even better in the future." I glance back up at him, shaking my head. "Your apology is not necessary. It is evident I have handicapped myself by not exploring alternative avenues of self-defense before now, which is something I must remedy with all haste. I had believed I needed nothing other than my magic, but such a mindset is detrimental when I have little to no access to my power."

His parting comment leaves a... strange sensation in my chest. It is not the manufactured joy or sorrow that I have previously identified, and the trigger seems to be those last words. It feels... small, but... warm, like the professor's praise.

I hope that you are able to make more bonds, even in this unfortunate situation.

Before, I knew only Denning and Young Master Nils; now, I have acquainted myself with Maria, Professor Matthias, Dorothea, and a few others from these missions. I have gathered their names and garnered their respect...

Professor, it seems that I already am.

[hresvelged]

"That relic," His voice rang out before he appeared at her side. "I've never read of anything like it before." He was glad that she'd found no use for it in combat that day and yet...he could not help but be perplexed by it. A relic of the imperial house? Sure he had no idea of all they possessed nor would he ever but it had bugged him. They may have been in a bunker fighting for return to their academy but there was always a moment for curiosity, at least in his mind. "If it's of no trouble, could you tell me about it? The history of the heirlooms passed down in noble houses has always fascinated me." And it was a nice change, to ask to know more of her history.

The mention of her axe made her own eyes turn to its form— Its jaw-like appearance near impossible to miss; its power at the ready in her strong hands but heavy in a cold heart.

It was natural to hear the Margrave held unfamiliarity with it. Expected, even. Aymr was unlike the Heroes' Relics plastered through Fódlan's history. She couldn't fully explain outright who gave it to her nor why she had its prowess in her hands. There was no other Hresvelg to have wielded it except for Edelgard.

Yet, it was simpler to say they did. "Oh? What about it in particular stands out to you?" A touch longer pause than normal. She prepared a suitable answer for the circumstances— One that leveled enough between truth and neutrality. "As you'd imagine, this axe is tied to the Crest of Seiros. It was given to me some time ago. It acts as a tool for the next emperor, should they find themselves needing it. You likely have never seen anything similar to it because of how closely guarded it is to the Empire."

[optimismxmagicism]

"My, I would hope the little witch has been good in my absence." Matthias made no note to hide his presence as he approached the boy with a smile. "More treats than tricks this evening, right?" The old man leaned against a wall, taking a small rest. There was little to be read from Ewan, It would be foolish to offer oneself up to be watched if one were a devil. He could hardly say that he trusted the boy, but he did not distrust him. "I've been unfortunately tricked time and again. Perhaps the worry of a witch's curse whilst we gather our spoils would prevent such travesty again, yes?"

“My my, if it isn’t mister vampire!” Ewan spoke with faux surprise as the man approached, a cheeky smile on his face. “Who’s to say? I could’ve been getting up to aaaaall sorts of mischief. It’s in my blood, after all.” He giggled. Honestly, besides trying to make Sennō trip over a banana he had been remarkably well behaved, all things considered. Part of it was him not wanting to be suspected- If everyone tried to pin him down as a devil, any real devils could escape unnoticed.

“I see, so a little devil got to you first, hmm? Well, not to worry.” Rummaging through his candy bag, he pulled out a handful of more old-timey sweets he figured an older guy would like. Then, the mage dropped them into Matthias’ hands without asking. “There’s no point to a witch’s trick if the devil has already caused mischief. So here’s a witch’s treat instead!”

With a wink and lighthearted smile, he turned around. “I’ve actually been bothered by devils a few times myself, but I have an idea on who’s hiding their tail, so to speak.” Based on previous interactions, he’s had at least one suspect in mind. It wasn’t the most pleasant of thoughts, admittedly.. But that was the name of the game.

“But I’d love to go candy gathering with you again, Mister Vampire. You were so helpful carrying my candy bag last time! At least half of it would’ve been left behind if it wasn’t for you.” Indeed, the size and weight of that bag would’ve been too much for such a petite witch.

Then, with a twirl on one heel, he turned around to face the margrave again, putting his hands on his hips. “So, won’t you help me do so again? If you do, maybe I can even give you a hint on the impostor’s identity. One of them, at least.”