#cynthero​

[exclted]

˚ · . OCEAN’S 11 / lucina, cynthia, laslow, & odin

Duke Maxifeld has received a letter detailing the planned heist of his family’s priceless heirloom - a weapon said to take on many an alternate form - during his upcoming annual ball. The Knights of Seiros have assigned you and your partner to attend undercover and find the wannabe thief before they act. The event is strictly for couples only. Better make your act convincing! [Grants Any Weapon +1]

She can’t say that she’s thrilled about the arrangement.

Lucina’s finger taps restlessly against the champagne flute she holds. It had been passed to her no more than a handful of moments after she had stepped through the door, and had not lost a drop of liquid since. All the good it had done her was to provide an excuse to untangle her arm from Inigo’s.

Because, of course, they had been assigned to this. In some ways she’s grateful -- at the very least she knows him -- but she would have much preferred just about anyone else. Just when things had begun to feel a little less weird with him, no less. 

Layers of midnight blue organza ebb and flow around her legs as she and her partner maneuver their way through the crowd. As much as she enjoys the excuse to wear a dress, it would have been better much better if it had been one of her own choosing.

But then all of those had gotten near instant vetoes from her friends when she had discussed her attire for this little event, so Lucina had settled for something at least a little bit practical.

Even if her insistence upon wearing her Falchion and its holster above her skirts had been shot down twice as quickly as anything else she may have suggested. Something about how it “wouldn’t be very stealthy of her,” and, “totally ruins the vibe of the dress.”

Whatever that meant.

Lucina frowns as her eyes scan the crowd. “It would have been nice,” she sighs, “if we even knew what it was that we are supposed to be protecting.”

@laslow !!

[mysticmarimoon]

Artfight Attacks from this year! I had a lot of fun as always ^^

Characters: -Luna by cynthero -Aria & Korrus by Gifflebunk -Valentina by DeepSeaOctopus01 -Zhirael by @isoprene-daydreams -Blaise Balfour by @jessclown -Avion by @artemlsic -E by kiannnn -Aeon by @windblume-violet​

My artfight can be found here!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST or use for NFTS! Reblogs appreciated!

[viridescent-lance]

"no, no. you gotta go like this," she gestures with two fingers. "watch me!" she adjusts her dress, sweeps down her skirt then immediately starts weaving her legs together. knees in, knees out as she sweeps her arms across in the air like a sprinkler. "and then, then you gotta bring it arooooound town. and then you do this! and this! and this and this and this and this and—"

"Like this?" Forsyth whirls in a circle, his arms like a windmill as he kicks his legs in what he hopes is an appropriate manner. Cynthia is a very amicable individual, someone he feels an immediate kinship with; while dancing is typically a weakness of his, getting in sync with her isn't a particularly difficult task! He is even adding his own flare!

Again, again, again! Forsyth is beginning to feel a little dizzy, and other ball-goers are giving him and Cynthia a wide berth, but what is this ball for if not for engaging in mirth and recreation! And, perhaps, making a good impact reputation-wise, but Forsyth doubts this will mar his good name.

"I've never heard of a dance like this before!" Forsyth pauses to catch his breath, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. Perhaps dancing is something he can acclimate to after all! "Does it have a name, Lady Cynthia?"

As far as he knows, this young woman is in fact a knight! What an accomplishment at her age! And still, she seeks to further her education...truly an admirable individual.

[illeoneardito]

"roy, my man!" she doesn't actually know him, but that isn't going to deter her from being overly friendly anyway. before really even approaching him, cynthia's already apparently fallen into a dance of her own. actually, dance might be a generous description. it's more that she's ominously flailing all her limbs at once as she hops over slowly but surely. the number of casualties is immeasurable as she slaps with reckless abandon. "come on; do it with me!"

“Eeh, what?”

The overly excited voice of the Golden Deer girl that he hasn’t yet properly met, but has heard about in passing, reaches his ears as it says his name, prompting a quick turn towards her.

He has no idea what she is doing. Or well, actually, he does, she’s dancing - but even for someone as inept in the art as himself, he can recognize that the style of her performance may be best described as... liberal. Carrying a healthy dose of fantasy well beyond him in its spirit.

And leaving a wave of chaos and destruction in its wake.

It takes his mind a moment to catch up and realize he is being invited - or, perhaps, challenged is the better word - to join her, and at first he wants to reject, use whatever excuse he can think of in the couple seconds he has left; but that might just add him to the list of the casualties of her valiant march.

So, as she reaches him, he flails his arms helplessly around him. His feet refuse to separate from the ground, but his knees do as their please; all in all, he produces a whole display that looks ridiculous to a degree he did not think he was capable of.

“Fffff... You owe me a stamp for this,” he says after a moment, before finally breaking and bursting into laughter. “Hahaha, just kidding. That was absolutely not something that had a right to earn one.”

“Um, nice to meet you, Cynthia. I guess this works for a first encounter.”

[atypicalsenerio]

she isn't sure when this got competitive. she's even less sure how this ended up happening, but she'll be gosh darned if she's going to get beat out at a river dancing competition by some lame mage. still, that doesn't change the fact she's now sweating and mostly, she's just kicking. that's what she's doing. "HAD?" heavy breath. "ENOUGH?" another heavy breath. "Y—" there goes her shoe, flying through the air and striking some poor waiter across the room. a pause. "HE DID IT!"

Soren didn't like this.

He'd just wanted a stamp.

He'd barely agreed to the test of skill in this bizarre form of dancing called river dancing. Then again, Cynthia struck him as someone who didn't need full fledged agreement from those around her to generate chaos. Had he still been working as a tactician, he might've tried to channel her energy into a special maneuver where she tricked the enemy into attacking itself with sheer force of willpower and spirit.

However, he was not at work. He was kicking his legs and hopping to some jig that only Cynthia seemed able to hear.

River dancing had seemed like it might be easy, since it only involved the lower half of one's body, but that was not the case.

He wheezed. "Hhh-" he couldn't even get words out to declare how badly he wanted it to be over. He was relieved when her shoe flew across the room. Less so, when she tried to pin it on him.

Soren raised the hem of his gown, scowling and red faced. "I'm wearing both shoes," he pointed out. He turned and grabbed the shoe from the waiter who was rubbing their head and glaring daggers at him. Soren held up the high heeled shoe that seemed to be more straps and heel than anything substantial to stand on.

"I would not wear this blend of hunting snare and caltrop on my feet."

[ashenprofessor]

there's a part of her that feels bad. like, not bad enough to not do it, but bad because she's worried poor proffy byleth over here is going to take her one hundred percent seriously. "the TRADITIONAL dancing styles of fodlan are like this. watch." then suddenly, she flings herself to the ground to do the worm. but like a good worm. a worm with core strength.

Byleth watched as Cythina threw herself on the floor and started wiggling. It was quite unlike any style of dancing she'd seen before, including the numerous late nights in roadside taverns fetching Jeralt from drinking himself into a drunk stupor.

"Is it?" She said with a hint of scepticism in her voice. "Thank you for showing me. All this time and I always thought the Traditional dance of Fodlan was the Drunk Giraffe"

Raising both arms above her head, the Professor waved them side to side whilst wiggling her head in time.

[renegadeofmacedon]

she's whipping it. whipping what? it's not apparently clear; though through some vague interpretations, you might be able to kind of get a sense of what she was doing. she's? holding a rope, maybe. a lasso? oh, there: now she's fake-lassoing poor minerva from across the ballroom, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as she tries to drag her out onto the dance floor. with an inappropriate wiggle of her hips, she calls out: "COME ON, YOU KNOW YOU WANT TOOOO."

Minerva, to be frank, isn’t quite sure what she’s looking at. Between those... strange, undulating moves, and, what was that... Was she trying to entice her to come over? While she may admittedly be weak to compliments, this, this was...

“I’m sorry, but... No thanks.” As much as Minerva would like to try and get a stamp, whatever the other woman thought to accomplish, it will have to wait for another day. 

[amnesiac-pawn]

// this ain’t canon to what happened on Team Sea, but sometimes we embellish the story to make it a little more grand!

[blaydiud]

✸ she cracks her neck. lowers her center of gravity and stares directly back at dimitri. she's prepared for this.

✸ – A bear hug

     “Cynthia...” At first, he seems unsure.

But hey, this was the girl who successfully lifted him from the ocean upside down on a pegasus. She seemed strong, so meybe this was safe...taking in a breath, he nodded.

     “Okay. But uh...still, if you feel anything you should not be feeling, feel free to scream?”

The prince wrapped his arms around her tightly, and with a “hup!” lifted her off the ground with ease. After a few seconds, he slowly placed her down.

     “S-So? How do you feel?”

[arcstral]

┊♕ .┊   𝐒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞

Marth  &  Cynthia.        ◞        @cynthero        ◞        Sword v2 +1.

               𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐀   𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄   he has only wielded once. Amidst all the articles plucked from his allegedly depthless inventory of feats, that alone should profess something to chuckle about. A single step into the brand new smithy and the man behind the counter immediately ushers him in with a crow of his name, or rather his title, locking his hand with a wagging shake fierce enough to throttle the circulation: ‘You are he.!! The Hero-King who wielded the blade of light! We’ll surely need your insight on the magical arms we have in store!’ The words more appropriately spell his doom rather than his acclaim, and without the ability to squeeze in even a word of his own, well- 

               Great humor backs the disposition, likely by the fact that his silence would be his undoing for all the course of a few dubious hours. He boasts little certitude of how it’s even evolved to this point, roped along by a light shove between the shoulder blades and a guide to the forefront of a secret workshop as soon as his head passed below the shingles. Or perhaps it was not actually so secret and Marth has only caught some stray hemp from his pillow stuffed into his royal ears. Regardless, one talk of the castle-town had been that the place peddled a particularly fine whetstone and that’s all he came here for; originally.

               Now he stands in a mysterious room locked behind a press of stone in the wall, before a long table bedecked with various swords forged from unidentified metals and sorceries. Luckily, his lone comfort lies in the fact that he was not alone. Even when the escort disappears and leaves him to these outlandish elements, all around him are students from the monastery obligated to weather a similar experience. One particular girl amongst them he has seen for the bounce of her pigtails here and there in the classroom, never quite close enough to observe for a proper name or face.

               Marth approaches and taps her on the shoulder pleasantly enough, then when she wheels around, he thinks to express a bit of sympathy. “Hail! It seems we have all been unwittingly pledged here to a strange obligation of sorts. I doubt blame could be pinned on anyone if we simply went.. On our.. Way,” The short circuit of his thoughts meant that there were no tracks for the words to smoothly trundle across, and the prince stared stiltedly. A bit with concern and perhaps some fearful awe as well, at the dazzling stars that flickered behind the girl’s eyes. Was she.. Here of her own accord?

[extenebris]

Of a Feather [Salem & Cynthia]

starter for @cynthero | +1 Riding or Flying

To say the Officers Academy had been advertised one way would be misleading. It hadn’t really been advertised at all and the news of its existence had only reached Salem through letters from those who had traveled from Jugdral to it themselves. Or through the word-of-mouth of those who came back again. Even so, he had imagined it to be an average institute of learning, albeit one nicer than the community schoolhouses he had seen pop up throughout the Thracian countryside. He had heard it was an academy established primarily for Fódlan’s nobility; the admission of those of less impressive lineage was relatively new.

So Salem had arrived expecting a quiet education. The existence of giant beasts that roamed Fódlan had been - perhaps intentionally - left off of all accounts of the experience at Garreg Mach. Stranger, however, was that none of his classmates had seemed especially troubled by the news of the birds that had come to the fields outside of town. Was it truly so mundane, then?

Gravel crunches beneath his boots. The path down the mountain to the fields at its base is well-worn, and for that he’s grateful. He had only wanted to inspect the area, perhaps even to catch a glimpse of the beasts themselves to gauge exactly what sort of monsters Garreg Mach deals with on such a regular basis, but not if the risk of being lost was too great. The weather is mercifully clear and warm, though summer rain clouds build in the distance, too far still to determine their direction.

A horse dressed with saddle and reins snorts at the underbrush up ahead, tail swishing at the gnats its curiosity has stirred up. It raises its head as Salem draws closer, and he notices the circlet of flowers that sits slightly askew below swiveling ears. There’s no rider to be seen, but Salem imagines that he’s not the only one who thought it a fine day for a hike, and keeps walking. By the time he reaches the base of the mountain, and the edge of the forest that opens up to the stretch of fields that surround it, a sharp crack stops him in his tracks - the snap of thick wood and the signal of something large in the trees overhead. Salem’s fingers tighten around the staff he’s brought with him - nothing more than a walking stick in Fódlan, but the instinct to send his enemies to sleep with the wave of his hand remains where magic has left.

Thud. A boot falls heavily to the earth beside him.

A boot...?

Salem glances up. Lips part in a gape. A girl in disarray drapes over a branch high above, one foot now bare.

“Are you alright?” he calls to her. He’d ask how later. “I will--” Looking from right to left, he finds nothing along the path to help. “--find some way to get you down.”

[boundlesshart]

jump scare / so, last year's joke hadn't gone so well. mostly because she ended up just injuring both of them, but this year's going to be different. different, mostly because for once there isn't any descent from the skies or anything that otherwise would suggest planning. it's just a girl, offering an unopened can of peanuts to her house leader, filled with a few of those brightly colored springy toy worms. and assorted nuts! "claude, can you open this for me? pleeaaase?"

If there’s anything Claude has learned about Cynthia, it’s that she tends to wear her heart and intentions on her sleeve. As he takes the can of nuts in his hands–noting how light it is despite its supposed ‘contents’, of course–Claude has a feeling that this is another prank of hers.

“This? Sure, why not?” Cynthia’s pranks are harmless enough. And what was it that his mother always said? You can only find humility in failure. Claude has plenty of skills and talents, of course, but it’s better to be humble about it all than risk an inflated head. And so Claude opens the can.

As expected, fuzzy worm burst out of the can like a colorful firework. What Claude doesn’t expect are the actual nuts that launch out with all the speed and force of a bullet. A stray peanut hits the bullseye: Claude’s actual eye. He cries out in pain, dropping the can to cradle his poor eye. “Fuck! ....Cynthia!”

[fortuitousflowers]

⚔ ! :0)

verses meme! (closed!) | @cynthero

cynthia has entered the battle!

battle theme: Red Carpet Extend-o-matic

battle intro: “Okay, okay! Just remember that the safe word is ‘petunia’ and that you don’t need to push yourself if-- Cynthia? Sigh, there she goes...”  victory: “Even Magnolia is proud of herself!” 

defeat: “Wah? How... how did you know the way to counter that...?” 

taunt: “Hehe... Oh, sorry! You’re just so cute~ ♡” 

reacting to taunt: “CYNTHIA!” 

tie: “Heh, you’re a tough one, Cynthia. I’m proud of you.” 

perfect victory: “Did I look... heroic?” 

final finisher: “I’m not backing down!” 

⚔ tag-team quotes ⚔

assist: “You’re going to have to get through me first!” 

cynthia down during assist: “...Run. Before she sees what I’ll do to you.” 

using item on cynthia: “I brought snacks!” 

healing/buffing cynthia: (giving her a smooch) “See? All better~ Wait! I have vulnerary too.”  

tag-team special: “How does it go again? Ah, right. Ahem. NOW DIE IN THE NAME OF A BRIGHTER FUTURE! ...Like that?” 

[jehannanmage]

where is the lamb sauce

With so many people from different countries in one place, the kitchen is looking to expand their recipes with more dishes from Fódlan and beyond! The Head Chef is holding a cooking festival, inviting any muse with a flair for cooking to put forth their new dish for a taste test! Cooking for the tryouts or trying out the cooking, what do you bring to the table? [Grants Authority +1]

Starter for @cynthero

Garreg Mach has made a terrific mistake.

“Why don’t you two try your hand at the cooking festival?”

Ewan had thought the Head Chef out of his tree, and had looked at him as such, eyes round. The mage blinked in confusion, glancing at Cynthia with brows furrowed before affixing his perplexed stare on the Head Chef anew. “I thought we were forever banned from the kitchen...?”

It was the Chef’s turn to sport a puzzled expression, head tilted to the side. Retrieving his ladle from the pot of stew before him, he shook his head in question. “No, I think I’d remember if I’d exiled a couple of kiddos like you. Make yourselves at home, the next round of competition starts soon.”

Ewan turned to look at Cynthia, eyes brimming with excitement. They could make up for their past transgression here, he was sure of it. (Even though he still didn’t really think their scientific research a crime worthy of the crummy punishment they’d been afforded, but, whatever.)

“Whatcha think we should make? Oh, oh!! Something with a kick, maybe, yeah?”

[rivclry]

♤ ; open sesame! (L&K)

@cynthero

Her vision still foggy from the sudden lack of consciousness, it took a while for Leonie to get her bearings. When she came to she noticed others from Garreg Mach strewn about this strange cave city. For a moment she thought it was only the small group of people she was with until she noticed the pairs of eyes staring at their group from the darkest corners. Strange shadows dipped in and out between the strange blue lights and guards geared with strange weapons patrolled the streets. 

Wherever they were it couldn’t be Fodlan.

The whole atmosphere of the city was unnerving to say the least but everyone seemed determined to find a way out of the city - if not get some questions answered. Being unable to simply sit around Leonie wandered towards the giant gate-like structure. Hopefully there she could find some answers on how to get out of this cave they were in that she could bring back to everyone else.

As she approached the large structure she noticed a familiar figure hopping around before the gate. Looks like someone had beaten her to the punch.

“Hey Cynthia! Were you thinking about getting through the gate too?”

[sweettoothforhire]

she's still just sitting there. staring, like it'd do anything. ( part of her is tempted to just convince herself that he's alive, just sleeping. ) head flicks up when gaius sets his hand on her shoulder, apologizes and she doesn't know what for. she produces the small machine aeschylus had given her. clicks the button. watches, anyway, to see if he'll answer. she sets it down in the snow, her hands in her lap. "it's okay." she doesn't want to cry, but she does. "everything's going to be okay."

Her words bring him back to the prison, back when this whole mess started going down.  

Gaius wasn’t wrong after all. The chaos and cheer eventually fades, and hidden behind smiles and gimmicks was still a kid not immune to the cruelties of life. He doesn’t know what that mechanism is for. It looks different and not from their time. It must have been looted somewhere. Or, judging from how she waited, either something capable of healing, or something Cat Eyes gave her. He’s placing his bet on the latter.

Fucking asshole.

If you wanted to go around giving gifts, at least don’t straight up die right after.

His eyes fall on the man lying motionless before them, Cat Eyes never to be seen again. 

They really liked ya, bud. You better have some trace in history for their sake.

He turns his attention back to Cynthia.He doesn’t know if everything’s going to be okay. They don’t even have a way back yet. Their only guide in this time is gone. Their numbers less than when they started. Still, Gaius pretends not to see her tears, letting her keep on the front for a while longer. He dusts off the muck, snow and dirt from her head, and dips it down just a tiny bit as he lightly pats her.

Stumbles, I don’t know how you did it. But you raised a strong girl.

 “...atta girl.”