#encantresse

[nobilisseoblige]

perhaps it is unbecoming for any respectable lady to nurse a grudge so early in the day — when there were a thousand other things to occupy her thoughts, when there were others she'd rather impress or entertain.

how unfortunate, then, that she should find herself seated next to him at breakfast this morning. just when she'd thought the early bird would catch the worm — or, in this case, the preferred seat next to the preferred partner.

apparently not.

so, with the briefest flicker of a sigh, dorothea turns to him, gaze sharp and disapproving as she gestures toward a bowl just out of reach.

"ferdie, would you be so kind as to pass that over? i'm afraid these delicate limbs of mine are much too frail to exert themselves this early. must be the curse of being a poor commoner, you know."

she flickered like flame to a wick, making her gaze align with his in such abject indigence, he began to trace back his steps to yesterday. if that. he frowned, in kind, wondering if a mere 24 hours were enough to stave off whatever wrongs he had cast on her life. he wished to break into her good graces. actually, no, he shouldn't word it as such. fall into her good graces? walk into her good graces? be granted the honor of her good graces? something in that line, surely, would do his tight-rope-walking heart some good.

"yes, here. of course." he was gladdened to be of some help, gloved hand rolling over the rim of the bowl before passing it over to her. whenever they did get to eat together, (though the 'togetherness' was contentious at best), she had the most dour look on her face. she was a spell-and-a-half, eyes whispering a curse so strong he knew not what knotted tree he would fall asleep by the roots at. "...if I may."

"have I said something to that effect, recently, Dorothea? to you? I am so certain I've offended you in some way, but I cannot fathom the start or end of it." she scathed him with a morning scowl, mouthing a sigh so disappointed he felt it burn at least three tiers back on the House Aegir family tree. "if i could right my wrongs, surely i would." his voice lowered, urgent. hand pressed to his chest like a creed. brow creased in rising concern.

"i know!"

he stood straight up, nose skyward. "here! this is what we shall do." he began to reach over the table, bringing all the dishes a little closer to her. rich greens and chopped scarlets, bell peppers and raining dressings. he shifted the pitchers painted in sealed blue, the sugar pearls, and glazed goose. Ferdinand tapped down every color around her, so she needn't strain herself to reach.

"see? now your morning should be unmatched!"

his eyes, clear as day, looked to her petals expectantly. unflinching. how could he fail her without knowing? how would he do right by her, without understanding? she needn't suffer by his side, if he could just see as she's seen. but what would a rose see when the sun wasn't around? she revoked her splendor from him, as if he were condemned to something lower than dirt. he wondered if they'd ever see a morning without the prick of thorns attached.

regardless. he smiled. it was the least he could do around her. "it's early."

"aren't you glad for it?"

[hresvelged]

 ♫ HAPPY HOLIDAYS~ ♪ 

by all accounts, a princess and a pauper should not have much in common—two born to different destinies, forever expected to remain stationed at their respective ends of the spectrum. in spite of that, it hadn't taken dorothea long to find the common thread between them. whether one was deemed important and the other insignificant, it was still a terribly lonely path to walk. both bound by a longing for something more than what their titles afforded them, both with bright eyes fixed on a kinder future, one that might allow them to choose their own fates rather than follow the whims of wicked men.

maybe that's why she approaches her esteemed house leader in a more pensive mood this time around, though still happy to see her. "beautiful evening, isn't it, edie?" and it is, to dorothea. the sunset is remarkable, woven with lilacs and rosy oranges, the gentle gusts of wind carrying the scents of spiced goods and the season's fragrant flora. "i was hoping it would be. i wanted to give you your presents on a perfect one."

the corners of the songstress's eyes crinkle affectionately as she takes one of the princess's hands in hers, pressing something cold and metallic into her palm. a charm bracelet, which dorothea points to delicately. her finger first hovers over a musical note, for herself, before moving to the purple bear for bernadetta, a black tome for hubert, and so on. "you may be our future emperor, but you'll always be our friend first and foremost. we'll be there with you every step of the way."

once she’s sure the gift remains secure in edelgard's hand, dorothea retrieves another present from the side. a book, bound in cherry blossom pink and topped off with a silver bow. "and this is for those long nights when you can't sleep. i'm told it's a fantastic read, full of characters and plots that stir the heart." she places the book gently onto the other's lap, but not before a small giggle escapes. "you know, one day, i really am going to write an opera about you, and it'll rival everything you've ever seen or heard. only the best for my edie."

Edelgard is no songstress, but she feels fortunate that the beat of her yet unveiled tune coincides with Dorothea's. "Hello, Dorothea. It would be a shame not to take advantage of this weather." While she prepares herself for conversation, her path curves. It is rare for her to be presented with such heartfelt gifts. Oft is she shown surface level items, plastered by fake smiles and vocals coated in falsities.

In truth, these are words she has wished to hear. It is the emperor's duty to stand by themselves; to take orders from none and herald the empire. Her locked heart presses on. Yet, Edelgard has always hoped to have others to rely on. "You hardly needed..—" She begins before cutting herself off. She is instinctually drawn towards the jewelry and its finer details. Every color and charm is perfectly attuned to someone close. "I'm.. very impressed. This detailing, it's.. Truly incredible. With this.. It's as you say. My friends will always be beside me, isn't that right?"

The princess takes a few seconds to put the bracelet on her right wrist. Hesitant as she usually is to remove her gloves, she thinks she can allow herself to just this once. They lay to her side as she shifts the token proper. It brings life to her skin. While Edelgard is more than content with what she has already received, her eyes widen as she is presented with more. A laugh leaves pink lips, curiosity sparkling in lilacs. "You really do know me well," she says as her palms fall atop the book. "I could use something like this. Once I finish reading, I'll let you know of my opinion. I can even lend you this copy and we can discuss its contents. How does that sound?" Soft of a tone it may be, her usual seriousness remains ever so prevalent.

A pink blush pours on her cheeks as the mention of opera finds itself stirring the air, breaking the eye contact to peer back into her lap. ".. Let us hope that opera continues to remain in the far future. I can't imagine a time where I won't feel flustered over it." If there is a production about her, only time will tell of its finale. She may not have said it aloud, but she would like to watch Dorothea perform such a feat. Not as the the role of the emperor, but of a friend who believed in her.

".. I need to thank you properly. I'm grateful— Not only to know you, but to call yourself a dear friend. It's evident you considered me above all else. That's.. Well, it means more than I can say." Raising her right hand, she taps the musical charm with her left index finger. "You are something truly special, Dorothea." As she lowers her hands to clutch the book into her chest, she smiles: "Hm. Perhaps a sudden question, but.. What would you say to a little trip, you and I? A brief respite away from Garreg Mach. It would please me greatly if you were my company."

[warpaway]

♫ HAPPY HOLIDAYS~ ♪

there is a slow, languorous feel to the day—a soft lull of distant birdsongs and the occasional tolling of bells, replacing the usual chatter that drifts across the monastery grounds. "busy, are we?" comes the teasing greeting as dorothea settles beside him, pausing briefly to appraise the spot where she's found them. "i've gotta say, you don't look all that comfortable, lin. guess now's as good a time as any..."

whether or not linhardt has noticed the item in question, the songstress reaches behind her back and retrieves a crinkling paper bag, carefully pulling out the gift and draping it over him: a thick, quilted sleeved blanket, complete with a padded hood that could double as a pillow in a pinch. comfortable, practical, and though it’s hardly the most fashionable thing she’s ever laid eyes on, dorothea has at least made an effort to choose something with a bit of elegance: a tasteful shade of ebony, trimmed with silver tassels and detailing.

"we'll keep this a secret from our beloved house leader, yeah?" she says, tone faintly mischievous. "can't have edie knowing i'm enabling your classroom naps." a long-suffering sigh follows suit, the drama in her voice almost palpable. "the thought of disappointing her breaks my heart. you'd protect a girl's heart, wouldn't you, lin?"

whether she’s serious or not, who’s to say? dorothea simply flashes him a broad smile, then hands him the bag for one final surprise. "there’s a chocolate pecan pie waiting for you, too. no need to share. i just thought you'd like a nice pick-me-up after your next trip to dreamland."

linhardt is only half awake when dorothea finds them. they'd been enjoying watching the clouds float lazily by and wonder how it might feel to be one of them. of anyone that could bother them, dorothea receives one of their softest reactions in the form of a lopsided smile.

her movement piques his interest, so he sits up, head lolling curiously to one side in an attempt to see what it is before she reveals it. ultimately, it doesn't matter. she drapes it over him and his hands instantly move to hold it even closer. it's plush... it's warm... his eyes are closing already.

"oh, this is lovely," they say. "and a pecan pie? i'll protect the hearts of girls everywhere for less."

his eyes open again. he wants to look at her straight in the eye as he says, "thank you very much, dorothea. this should go without saying, and it is less related to the fact that you've given me such a wonderful gift, but you really are an incredible woman. i'm happy to count you among my friends."

[berglietz]

♫ HAPPY HOLIDAYS~ ♪

good heavens. to think people did this for fun.

it had taken dorothea some considerable effort to wrap this present — to roll it onto its side, to get it into a box that would disguise its shape, and stars above, the time it'd taken just to hoist the finished product from her room and onto the walkway. (this is what she gets for buying the heaviest axe she could find. weighed down and whatnot. she'd been told it would be the perfect thing for a man intent on honing brute strength.) though the songstress tries to lug it down the steps, dorothea arnault quickly finds that she doesn’t last long. it's with a resigned sigh that she abandons the heave-ho’ing and instead locks eyes with a knight stationed off to the side. right on cue, he hurries over, eager to assist. smiling warmly, she'll graciously allow the man to take over, watching with mild interest as he lifts the cumbersome gift. there’s a fleeting moment of satisfaction when she notices how he strains under the weight — he does his best not to huff, but quickly does his face turn pink, and soon enough, she can see his chest heaving beneath the pressure of that heavy plate armor. (confirmation that she’s chosen the right challenge for her intended recipient.) with a string of coquettish thank you's and what would i have done without you's, she and the present finally arrive at the training grounds, and it's there that dorothea waves off the helpful knight, and calls out eagerly to one cyan-haired von bergliez. "caspar!" her voice rings pleasantly, words laced with a note of cheeriness. "have i caught you at a good time? i was hoping we could play a game." at that, she steps aside, revealing the large package behind her: now standing upright, wrapped in tidy cobalt-blue paper. "if you can lift this gift off the ground, then you get to keep it. from me to you."

dorothea draws close now, smile widening as she pulls a small medallion from her pocket. its leather cord hangs neatly between her fingers, and quickly does she loop it over his head, letting it fall with a satisfying clink! against his chest. "a small token of my affection for the strongest man i know. you'll do great things one day, caspykins."

"Oh, hey!"

Caspar comes at Dorothea's call just as the knight she'd arrived with steps aside, leaving her with that big blue box. He eyes it with interest.

"So all I have to do is pick it up?"

Arms wrapped around the package, it only takes that first ounce of effort to realize that the challenge was sincere. Whatever's in there, it's heavy enough to make his limbs ache with the effort to make it move.

She hadn't carried it all this way herself, did she? That man who walked in with her-- she'd gotten him to help. Dorothea could get a man to do just about anything with a smile if she needs it. Far from the first time since he's met her, Caspar wonders how she does that.

The cool slip of leather around his neck brings his attention back to her, and her words send blood rushing to his ears. A light flush of exertion darkens to a deeper shade right before her eyes.

Oh. That's how she does it.

"Come on-!" His voice squeaks up into an utterly embarrassing register. "Caspykins?? Really??"

He doesn't know how Dorothea's magic works on other strong men, but somehow Caspar always ends up wanting to bury himself in the ground when she directs it at him.

(Later, when his fingers curl around the medallion at his chest, it isn't the nickname ringing in his ears that will come back to him. If he does great things one day, he hopes he can celebrate and sing with a friend, especially one with such a beautiful voice.)

[dcggersedge]

As the festivities sweep across Garreg Mach, one member of the Black Eagles House finds herself partaking in a time-honored tradition—one that celebrates the warmth of camaraderie and the strengthening of bonds. A time to forget about the barriers of status that divide, and to embrace all that brings people together. 

(record scratch) 

“professor yunaka!!!” like a notched arrow, dorothea is suddenly in motion, propelled toward the woman with a swift, almost alarming force that might have been unsettling—if not for the wide, irrepressible grin stretching across her face. “i’ve just heard the news! is it true? i hope it is. otherwise, i just might cry.” a feigned sniffle, before she extends a gift bag triumphantly, its deep crimson coloring reminiscent of their banner. “you’re just in time for our gift exchange. this is for you!”

inside, she will find a small box of marzipan candies—delicately molded into whimsical shapes. nestled beside them is a snow globe ornament; a fragile, dainty thing containing miniature snow-dusted trees. “welcome to the black eagles, and may you have a lovely holiday~!”

An unexpected shout makes Yunaka flinch, hands suddenly grabbing a tight hold of the papers she was reading and wrinkling them. "Aw, man..." She mumbles to herself, frowning at them before placing them back on her desk. She'll try and smooth those out later.

Clearly, whatever was being yelled about was way more important if the rapid pace at which Dorothea was approaching her was any indication. At least...she thinks? The smile makes it a bit confusing.

"The news?" What news? Was something happening? Just in time for...oh! She was the news! Yunaka blinks before laughing sheepishly. "Aw, it's not really news! I just thought-"

Wait. Hold on. Pause. Gift exchange?

Yunaka lets out a mangled noise that is maybe (?) a squawk. "Wait, there's a gift exchange? Nobody told me there was a gift exchange! I haven't prepared anything to exchange!"

Dorothea hands her a bunch of little candies and a cute little ornament - geez! They had one ready for her, and she just got here? She quickly turns to put the gift down on her desk before Dorothea can see how wonky her smile looks.

"Hang on, don't leave! It's not an exchange if you're the only one giving a gift." She carefully plucks out a few of the candies and holds them out for Dorothea to take. "Please? I promise next time I'll definitely have something ready, but I'll feel awful if I don't give something back!"

[nagaficat]

As the festivities sweep across Garreg Mach, one member of the Black Eagles House finds herself partaking in a time-honored tradition—one that celebrates the warmth of camaraderie and the strengthening of bonds. A time to forget about the barriers of status that divide, and to embrace all that brings people together.

“professor deirdre~!” dorothea calls out in a sing-song voice, barely making any effort to conceal the mirth dancing in her eyes. she extends a gift bag with a subtle flourish, its deep crimson coloring reminiscent of their banner. “don’t you look stunning! i can only aspire to be half the woman you are someday.”

"today i come not as your student, but as a festive envoy~! this is for you.”

inside, she will find a small box of marzipan candies—delicately molded into whimsical shapes. nestled beside them is a snow globe ornament; a fragile, dainty thing containing miniature snow-dusted trees. “may you have a lovely holiday~!”

It is always a treat to see Dorothea. The songstress is warm, friendly, and delightful. Deirdre is more than happy to have someone so lovely counted among her students. Still, there is something about this festive season that seems to make everything even more enjoyable.

Deirdre's face lights up in the presence of her student.

Dorothea wishes she could be half the woman Deirdre is but Deirdre smiles knowing and warmly. She knows her student already is even more than that. She would have remarked on Dorothea's own loveliness but her thoughts are interrupted as a gift is offered.

She pulls out the snow globe and shakes it, watching as glittery snow swirls about and settles on the branches of a miniature forest. "I grew up in a forest like this," she muses, a faraway look in her eyes. "When I was young I wanted nothing more than to leave but now, well, I suppose I am nostalgic."

She shakes her head, dismissing the ache she has for what had once been her home. It is the present that now matters and that present includes her darling student, Dorothea.

"Ah but this is a lovely surprise! Would you come and share these sweets with me? I am sure they would be even more delicious when enjoyed with lovely company."

[twistedisciple]

that’s him. the abominable forestman who’d tried lighting her up like a beach bonfire just a few months ago.

for the first time tonight, dorothea's lips curl in displeasure at the sight of him—at his bloodied form. she takes it all in, eyes sweeping across the shredded, stained robes, the storm of bruises and gashes, and the butcher's knife in his hand.

then, both pointedly and somewhat disgruntled, she finally clears her throat to speak.

"don’t you think it’s time you found a new hobby?"

Who’s this bitch? Griss thinks, but for once doesn’t say it out loud. His face says it clear enough. Eyes flicker from golden head to golden toe and then, miraculously, recognition dawns. She hadn’t been quite so bright when last he’d seen her, but he’s pretty sure now that this had been one of the hapless students he’d chased through the woods. His expression splits open into a devilish smile and he runs a finger along the back edge of his knife, testing her with a couple of slow, toying steps closer.

“Not when there are kids like you who still haven’t learned their lesson.” However thin that lesson might have been, it had still technically been a class. Keeping one’s composure, how to deal with the unexpected, what it might feel like to narrowly escape death at the hands of a psychopath - interpretation varied but they were all equally valuable.

“The way you’re dressed, a killer would be able to see you no matter how well you tried to hide.” He stalks around her like a predator after preying, showing his teeth, warning her with the razor sharp edge of the blade in his hand. “This game’s all about trick-or-treating, but don’t you think it’s weird that everyone’s only thinking about the ‘treat?’ Hehehe, the best time for a trick would be when everyone’s got their guard down.”

Griss lunges like he’s about to stab at her, but restrains himself at the last second and redirects the knife’s point to gesture with a flick at her shoes.

“Let’s see how well you can run in all of that. I’ll even give you this lesson free of charge!”

Run.

[rafent]

cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

it’s not particularly cold this evening — the sun still sits low on the horizon, casting long shadows and filtering its fading warmth through the trees. perhaps it comes as a surprise, then, when dorothea suddenly sheds her jacket and drapes it effortlessly over his shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

without missing a beat, she proceeds to fuss over it — and over him — smoothing the fabric into place, adjusting the collar, ensuring every wrinkle is smoothed out. she even brushes aside the hair caught beneath the material, letting it fan out just so. she'll linger for a moment longer than necessary, hands gliding over the fabric, adjusting it until it’s snug against his frame. only when a sideways glance confirms what she’s been waiting for does the songstress step back, letting out a small huff — equal parts amusement and relief.

“before you think to thank me,” she murmurs, “i should tell you this was more for my benefit than yours.” her chin jerks subtly toward a figure who now slinks away into the crowd. a small motion, but enough to make the point clear. “he'd been following me for some time. i figured the sight of such an imposing figure”—a finger taps rafal's arm—“would send him packing. seems i was right.”

“i hope you don’t mind,” dorothea adds with a light shrug, tone breezy, as if all this were just part of a casual evening out. eyes twinkle as she looks him over once more, now with genuine approval. “in any case, you’re welcome to keep it for the time being. i daresay black is your color among others.”

with that, her hand slides gently around rafal’s wrist, a light tug guiding him toward a confectionary stall down the street. her voice lifts in a more playful tone: “and for your noble assistance, shall i treat you to something sweet? i’ve heard the fried dough is to die for. something about it being served with an imported chocolate syrup of some kind...?”

𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 — accepting

Across their acquaintance, unreasonable had never once come to describe Dorothea, so it was reasons that Rafal searched for. Reasons that he knew inherently to exist.

Stopped in his tracks, he allowed her fussing, compliance and curiosity commandeering the dragon's form equally. Fluttering birdlike hands setting straight this and that, attentive chartreuse gaze missing no detail, and the protracted quality of each careful yet exaggerated movement; the totality of a mysterious display that appeared to him not only purposeful, but feigned. Then at last an explanation that would tie together these all.

"Humph. Such pageantry." Rafal followed her eyes to the fringes where the stranger slipped away, then lingered there, protectiveness in every sense that remained on edge. Humans though of little consequence to dragons were worse enemies to one another; there would be no malefactor nettling one of his student flock, aside. He turned to the girl with a glower, a look not meant for her.

"If you had need for a scarecrow, Dorothea, I would have lent you a dragon's transformation to superior effect. We would clear the entirety of this space and more with none to dare bother you ever again." Genuine his offer, and perhaps a touch extreme if one should lend it any second thought. Rafal did and shrugged after a beat. "Though I suppose the matter is already dealt with. Next time, then."

Unreasonable never, but certainly generous. In the midst of removing the jacket and folding it for return, he felt himself tugged forward - a single earful of her proposal and his brightened expression was not to any imagination. In regards to said noble assistance, he had done little more than stand around and be dressed. Therefore—

"If you should insist so generously on a reward, I will not be so lacking in manner as to refuse." A reward for so little work, however? Unacceptable. Of course, Rafal would make himself worthy of it. ". . .And if you should care for a second performance, you need only say the word. I would not be opposed to being hand fed."

[heavy-draw]

@encantresse

"Well... It's about time you hit something. Just next time, aim for the target, yeah?"

[stellalimned]

everything dorothea knows about them can be counted on one hand: one - they'd been paired with professor laslow during the mission, and two - they'd assisted her with the first bandit attack.

she struck first. they followed with the killing blow, leaving her somewhat relieved to have avoided it altogether.

"i never got the chance to thank you for your help," the songstress starts tentatively, drawing closer so their conversation remains private. "you stepped in before things could get worse for us. i'd have done what was necessary, of course, but—"

taking a life never becomes any less horrifying.

her throat clears suddenly.

"anyway, i thought i should introduce myself. we're allies, after all. i'm dorothea."

The Black Eagle student introduces herself, thanking me for my assistance during the mission. I know little about her save that she has a propensity for magic as befitting her quintessence that sparkles and gleams in a way that draws attention to itself for those who can sense such things. She also has a melodious voice much like the Lady Ninian, which compliments her fine features. I recall seeing her in the magic classes one level up from mine; she is a formidable mage, one from whom allyship could potentially be useful.

"My name is Limstella," I respond. "Your attacker turned on me, and I defended myself in response. That is why I was required to intervene." I pause, then continue. "You are skilled and powerful. It would be pointless to allow such excellent quintessence to be extinguished. If you wish to be allies, I would ask that we study together when we have the spare time for it. I am led to believe you are a mage of high caliber, and it would be beneficial for me to learn from mages who have reached a level higher than me. Should you need something from me, ask and I will endeavor to fulfill your wishes. But keep in mind that my loyalty is first and foremost to Young Master Nils, as I have been inherited by him to be his servant, and his orders take first priority."

[verseandrhyme]

piano, sender teaches receiver how to play the piano.

on the bench, dorothea shifts just enough to make space for mitama.

gently, she takes her friend's hand, adjusting the fingers before placing them over the correct keys. “my expertise lies more in singing than in playing,” she says brightly. “but i’ve picked up a few things along the way—some tricks, some stories. the latter i’ll save for another time.” one of mitama’s fingers is pressed down onto a key, producing a soft, clear note.

“it’s not about hitting the right note every single time. instead, focus on finding the feel of it. get comfortable with the rhythm.”

dorothea hums the melody, letting the sound float between them for a moment. then, she reaches over to the lower keys, her left hand dancing over the black and white with practiced ease. she plays the sequence again, slow and deliberate, offering it as both a demonstration and encouragement.

“your turn now. if you start to feel frustrated, we can always take a break. music is meant to be enjoyed, after all. if you force it—”

a flicker of something unspoken crosses her features. the songstress pauses, her gaze momentarily drifting as if lost in thought.

“—it becomes something of a performative chore.”

a long exhale. she meets mitama’s eyes once more, and this time, dorothea flashes another smile. "go on, then. the poetess might just surprise us both."

ask meme | accepting!

Her caretakers had made it plain to her from a very young age. Perhaps music is not where your talents lie... A book of poetry had been pushed into her hands, and that was that of the discussion.

And yet, even still, she did always find herself longing to be able to recreate that melody her mother had sung to her.

Dorothea's hands are soft. Mitama carefully notes the position she guides her own hands into. She shifts a bit to settle comfortably, always hovering her fingertips just above the keys. The piano is an imposing instrument. If she should play the wrong note, will it echo for all to hear her failure?

It is hard to think so, when Dorothea's hands guide hers gently. The note that her fingers ply from the piano is singular, but beautiful. Clear and steady. Her instruction makes it all sound so easy, as though it is not a craft people spend their lifetime honing.

As if a girl who cannot even sing her mother's song can make anything worth listening to.

When Dorothea's hands pull away, Mitama's gaze follows to watch as she lays claim over her own section of the instrument. The melody she plays is lower, almost somber, but still beautiful. The poet finds her gaze shifting from hands to face. Does the other student know, she wonders, how her face changes when she concentrates?

A flicker of something then. She has seen that before. The expression Asugi makes when he speaks of his future. The expression Rhajat makes when she speaks of her father. It is gone again before Mitama can pin it down to examine it. She meets Dorothea's gaze and lovely smile and laughs, softly.

Listen a moment / in the chords of melody / can you hear my heart?

Her fingers press the keys slowly. The first few notes fill the air hesitantly. Her fingers shift, and the next notes come slower than they should. Still, she presses. Offbeat, out of time, but the notes still come. The music still comes.

It is not a song. But Mitama thinks it sounds lovely.

[nobilisseoblige]

before they left for their mission, there was something ferdinand said that stuck with her: "I don't know if you know this, but I have been prepared to die for my people the moment I accepted my lot as a Von Aegir."

dorothea had silently chewed over the words on the way there, processing whatever odd feelings they stirred within her—and the inkling of concern at the thought of a classmate who had long contemplated his own death.

the childhood in enbarr came to mind as she walked those city streets, taking in all the weary faces with a growing sense of despondency. it was a recognizable exhaustion she saw in them — the lines of desperation etched into foreheads and around eyes, the way most residents hardly smiled at the sight of them. the violence that plagued every corner, the vicious assaults on anyone who dared to step outside.

she lived this life, once. it is the same one she fears returning to.

"ferdie. a moment?" she is not quite sure where she intends to go with this. dorothea watches him carefully as their group ambles past city lines, mindful of who remains within earshot, and waits patiently for a private moment before continuing. "have things...always been this bad here?" did you know?

Week 2 Intermission

"not like this. not that I was aware of." the words cascaded from his lips, like a haphazard spout that he was just waiting to fall apart. "however, I did grow up seeing children on the streets, and those in poverty asking for tithes." Ferdinand added immediately, not hiding any of his cards. he didn't need to. Dorothea already knew it by heart, lived it by heart. Enbarr was just one prime example, but the rest of the Aegir territory reflected the same failure to change. he did not expect this brand of terror that besoughted his land. he had, in horrified disdain, stood among the lifeless, the desperate, the violent—all of whom he could only surmise were there prior to the fall of Garreg Mach. he didn't know. he should have known. he didn't know.

"I should have known." again, he betrayed his feelings too quickly, like he was confessing a sin he should have been bearing all his life. what had he been doing all this time, to lead to this? what kind of noble was he, to fail his people at such an intimate level? they were alive only in body, but their spirits had long been crushed under the soles of reality. he wondered how long his land had been riddled with tears and dried stains. "I am sorry." an apology was likely not enough. he continued to step on others without intention, until every petal smeared like blood.

Ferdinand von Aegir was frightened by his own ignorance.

"you've lived a very different life than I. perhaps you've seen more of the truth than I ever had." with his voice deflated, he let that statement sink in, sullying the air in a severity the likes of which he had never needed to show until now. Ferdinand was keen on holding on to an honest future with his dear life, but sometimes the truth hurt, like a spear lodged in his skull. what light was left of him, learning that his ignorance had cost so many of his people their lives?

"my people… their faith. it feels almost wasted on me."

fingers teasing through his thick curls, Ferdinand was uncharacteristically solemn. he sighed curtly. "on all accounts, I have failed them. and I must now contend with my lacking. I spoke of dying for my people, but now, more than ever, I need to do more than even that. I need to change."

"changing when I feel so stagnant is harder than dying ever will be."

it hurt him to think the brave young woman before him actually wanted anything to do with him, especially now that he's talked and talked about faith to crowds that do not acknowledge the point of living. these people were hungry. they were tired. they were living without their basic needs met.

of course they didn't care who Ferdinand Von Aegir was.

"I pray you give them grace. it's not them that houses cruelty in their hearts; it is I who has cruelly neglected them."

"it is a lovely home. I promise." his voice, hushed, sounds like a brush of wind. it is, however, burning and honest.

"it is."

promise.

[hresvelged]

🎄 a simple delight, sitting here with the one she trusts so irrevocably. curled beside the other, feet tucked neatly beneath her, dorothea hums along to whatever festive tune drifts through the background. in her hands, a crumpled paper creation shifts as she fumbles with it, folding one marked corner, then the next, until it becomes something she can slip her fingers into and manipulate with ease.

"ta daaaa~!" she exclaims once it’s done, turning toward edelgard and holding it out proudly for her to inspect. "it’s a fortune teller! used to be all the rage among the girls at the opera. they'd use it to predict each other’s futures—whether they’d marry, find fame or wealth, that sort of thing. here, you try. "

she lets out a soft giggle and leans in to press a quick kiss to edelgard’s cheek before straightening up again. "of course, none of it is real. i like to think we can choose our own futures. or at least, i hope so. the alternative thought is... a bit daunting."

Edelgard falls into the homeliness that is Dorothea as her head leans to weigh against her shoulder; legs mimicking and fingers laying open against her sides. She cannot quite say how long exactly the world feels itself frozen, but she yearns for it to remain dormant just a second longer. Her icy exterior reaches for flames of warmth.

As she lifts herself to hoist irises towards the creation, she stares into the object more intense than intended. It's a captivating concept, even if she can't claim to understand. The thoughts pull themselves away from her as if drawn to the seat of a theatre— She does not bring the spotlight onto her, but on the songstress who so kindly sits nearby. Edelgard never tires of these moments of solitude no matter how brief. Here, the memories linger strong.

"Oh? How fascinating. I've never seen anything like that before. I can understand the appeal, even if I may have never thought of it myself," she says softly. Digits once trailing her sides move to tap the spot kissed only moments ago. A trail of glittering pink sits upon the face of a girl who so oft dons neutrality and bluntness. She routinely laments how little she got to see of the opera as a child, but she has hopes of rectifying this.

She smiles. "The future will always be ours to make." The budding emperor fixes her posture to sit upright, refusing to look anywhere but at Dorothea. These words are for her alone— For her to hear and understand. "I will fight for that again and again. No matter what. Promise me you'll be there to see it all."

As she finishes her speech, the unconsciously uplifted shoulders find themselves lowering. "This world we speak of is fast approaching. I'm ready for it, but at times.." A rough pause, cutting herself off. "Well, I could use more moments like this."

"In the meantime, though.." Edelgard allows herself to lean back, stifling a laugh with her knuckles. "What does that fortune teller have in store for me? I'd like to see. I hope it's promising."

[nabataprophet]

As the festivities sweep across Garreg Mach, one member of the Black Eagles House finds herself partaking in a time-honored tradition—one that celebrates the warmth of camaraderie and the strengthening of bonds. A time to forget about the barriers of status that divide, and to embrace all that brings people together.

“sophia, isn’t it?” dorothea calls out in a sing-song voice, barely making any effort to conceal the mirth dancing in her eyes. “i remember you from the costume party! i was hoping i’d be able to get to know you better. perhaps you’ll join me for lunch tomorrow?” the songstress extends a gift bag with a subtle flourish, its deep crimson coloring reminiscent of their banner. “in the meantime,  i come not as your fellow student, but as a festive envoy~! this is for you.”

inside, she will find a small box of marzipan candies—delicately molded into whimsical shapes. nestled beside them is a snow globe ornament; a fragile, dainty thing containing miniature snow-dusted trees. “may you have a lovely holiday~!”

She isn't dressed up as the sun today, but Dorothea is no less bright in Sophia's eyes. She has a certain presence to her that fills the whole room, wide as it is. She's a bit like how Sophia imagines Larum would be were she a little older... and perhaps a fair deal more mellow.

Sophia accepts the gift gingerly. It feels rude to open it right in front of Dorothea, so she just cradles the bag in her arms. Is she supposed to open this now? No, it's probably better if she opens it later. If her reaction isn't big enough, it might make Dorothea upset.

Better to open it back in her room, then.

"Um, to be honest, we... don't celebrate this holiday where I'm from. The holidays that everywhere else celebrates... seldom reach such an isolated village. But..." Sophia squeezes the gift tighter in her arms, careful not to squish it. Her cheeks take on a light dusting of color similar to the bag as she holds it tighter to her chest. "Ever since coming to Fódlan, I get to participate in new things... like this. Thank you..."

It's not her first time getting a gift for the holidays, but it is her first time getting a gift from one of her classmates. That makes it special.

"...Tomorrow's lunch... is onion gratin soup," she adds pensively, after a moment of silence. "If that's fine... we can share?"

...Hm? Did they announce tomorrow's menu yet?

[berglietz]

"caspar! you made it back!" it's no surprise to see him—she knows he's got more lives than a cat—but still, a familiar face lifts her spirits in a way nothing else could. )

she rushes over, giving his arm a playful squeeze. "how about it? the black eagles, making it to the very end! i hope edie's proud."

dorothea's smile softens, accompanied by a faint flicker of concern. the hand on his arm lingers for just a moment longer before she lets it fall to her side. "hey, no matter what happens this week...take care of yourself, okay? and bern, too. look out for each other if you can."

"'Course I did! I can take whatever these islands throw at me!"

Initially he puffs up at Dorothea's touch in a display of pride. When he feels her shift, though, he too softens to a more natural posture.

"Bernadetta made it this far, didn't she? She's way stronger than she seems." His voice grows slightly quieter, but no less assured. "I'll look out for her though. Of course I will."

A pause, and then he lifts back up into that prideful stance. Chin up, shoulders squared, grin bright and toothy. "Just promise you won't go easy on us. We're all Eagles, but for now you should have a little Weasel pride too, right?"

[dcggersedge]

there she is! the starry-eyed, star-adorned professor one black eagle’s been meaning to talk to. and what better night than this one, with the ambiance of glowing lights and phantom figures in their midst, to make a memorable introduction?

“professor!” here comes the sun, gilded in that morning gold, poised to strike the appropriate pose—a slight curtsey, head bowed respectfully—before she looks up with a beam.

“to think that we've been passing ships in the night for who knows how long! a proper introduction's been long overdue.” a hand instinctively raises to comb through her locks, on instinct, to ensure she presents a most impressionable image. “i’ve heard so much about you! i’m dorothea.”

She doesn't react, at first. There's lots of professors here. The title could go to anyone, and she hasn't spotted any of her Blue Lion students just yet. Yunaka only realizes that it's her that's being called when a flash of gold enters her vision, making her flinch and turn.

Woah.

"Holy- that costume is amazing!" No way that's just for something like this! Something that elaborate belongs on the stage, in some kind of grand performance! The troupe could've never afforded something like this, it would've been too likely to get damaged while they traveled. "Is it from something? Did you make it, or rent it? What other costumes are there- oop."

Yunaka cuts herself off with a little laugh. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't expect to see someone pulling out all the stops." Passing ships? Were they? Yunaka's seen her around a few times, sure, but was this student really that eager to meet her? Huh.

"Nice to meet you too! The name's Yunaka. And...uh...." She laughs nervously. "What was it that you heard about me, exactly?"