#interaction: solmtinel

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

When you break the news about the imposter lords to one of the villages, they naturally react in horror and shame for being deceived. However, something goes awry when the message is passed along to the village elders. A miscommunication down the line leads these leaders, half-blind and three-quarters-deaf, to believe that you are the “real Lyndis”. Whether you are or not, there is little you can do to convince them otherwise, and so they demand you make things right. [Grants +1 Authority]

(Starter for @solmtinel)

It was supposed to simply be an in-and-out. Deliver a message, which had been written for them on a scroll and sealed with the Archbishop's personal seal, offer assistance if any property damage had occurred, delivers alms if necessary, then get out and back on their way to the monastery in time for a meal and some training.

"You want us to what?"

The steward of the village smiled blandly, cocking his head without turning to hear the murmur of Old Faerghan from the line of elders behind him. After a moment, he repeated himself, "The Lady Lyndis is being asked to make recompense for the damage she has done."

Raven shook his head, a frown tugging at his lips. They had been assured that there had been no casualties from the imposter's shenanigans, not even when the faux Lady Caelin attempted to shoot a bow from the back of one of the Ancestral Herd with her feet. "You told us that she hadn't caused any damage."

Amused, the steward canted his head again, calling out to the seated council behind him in a lyrical tone, waited for the answer, nodded once, curtly. "Not physical damage, my lord." He pressed a hand to his chest. "Damage to the heart. To the dignity of our proud village. As you may know, we uphold ancient traditions here, and this supposed imposter has flagrantly disrespected those of us who hold such things dear."

The man leveled his gaze for a moment on Raven's companion, one of the new students from Elyos, a colorful girl with a colorful personality, before turning back to Raven. He smiled blandly. "As her man, I would like for you to inform her that she must pay the proper dues."

"As her what?"

[thiefknight]

{mission task board 09/24; bow+1}

Absolute focus.

Total clarity.

This is life or death.

With careful aim, Zelkov pulls back the arrow and releases it, letting it zip through the air until it finds its mark: an unsuspecting Golden Deer student down the hall. As soon as it strikes, bright red blossoms across the student's clothing...

Bright red... paint.

Zelkov has never been particularly good with a bow, but he also isn't terrible at it. If nothing else, he has laser focus when he wants to, and something about this painted arrow battle has scratched a mental itch for him. Where he had first thought it was foolish and a waste of time, he is now fully devoted to the cause of covering the monastery and the other students with red paint in the name of the Black Eagles.

And although he may not be the best shot in the House, he is quite agile. He uses that agility now, to duck away from the student before any retaliation can be made, and to scale a nearby flight of stairs two at a time before disappearing into the shadows again.

There is literally nothing at stake in this "fight," and yet, it's all Zelkov can think about.

He hears another set of footsteps approaching nearby. A second student, or perhaps the first coming after him? After calming his breathing for just a moment, he whips out of the shadows to take aim at the student, once again coming face to face with someone from the Golden Deer.

"Nice try, but you can't sneak up on me," he says as he takes aim.

red vs gold

[peerlessscowl]

🥂 she considers it for a moment— talking to him again. even with their losses the other houses seem to joyously take in the feast. perhaps they could make up in this kind of atmosphere. staring at him from across the room, her lips purse tight and she turns to ignore him.

stubbornly, she can't bring herself to approach him. it still pisses her off thinking about how he'd dismissed her ideals as a princess— as solm's future queen.

it doesn't cross her mind that he can't possibly know how deep her troubles run.

Raven feels the prickle on the nape of his neck, a chill that he had become used to – bloodlust? No, he shook his head. Simply the press of so many bodies nearby. Still he, could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. 

Depositing his empty flute on a nearby tray, Raven turn on his heel, prepared to leave, to drag whoever owned the eyes out to where they could be taken out – and then he found them, the usually warm brown eyes focused on him, chilly and disdainful. 

Raven straightens, his eyes narrow, and when one of the wait staff walks by he grabs another flute of champagne and, without breaking eye contact, takes a single sip of his champagne. The message he hopes, is clear – I am not going anywhere. 

[blaiddllodi]

Dimitri was accused of being a lot of things, but naïve was not amongst his sins. Indeed, with one of his closest friends being Sylvain Jose Gautier, he could not afford to be off his guard for even the slightest moment, lest shenanigans abound.

And yet, he had. He had taken his eyes off of his friend for a moment, and the singular blunder had left Dimitri on his own, surrounded by a flock of young men and women in attire that was certainly designed to tempt - someone, perhaps, old fashioned though some of the costumes were - and with a predisposition to serve.

Perhaps that was the appeal, perhaps that was why Sylvain had dragged him here to begin with - oh, when he got his hands on him - but the longer Dimitri sat at the neatly decorated table, the more his only temptation was attempting to make himself much smaller than he truly was and to disappear into a hole in the ground.

The sound he made at his name was coupled with what might have been a flinch, and he forced himself to plaster a polite smile onto his face and turn to face she who had called him.

"A-ah," he chuckled, raising a hand to rub at the back of his head. "I…was here with someone, but it seems that…ahem, it does seem that I am quite alone." He said it in the tone of a man realizing that his allies had fled the battle, and that he was to face the charge by himself.

He inclined his head, some small relief at the acknowledgement. "It, ah - you're correct, it is not my, er, usual preference. Not to say that anything is wrong with it!" Hands raised to wave off any offense, spotting the young lady's uniform, marking her as employed. "I just…I don't believe I am the target audience for something like this."

1-800-MAID commercial jingle — dimitri & timerra

[bxldrsdraumar]

It wasn't the first time Sigurd had braved the elements for the sake of the monastery's larders. The food shortage was a problem, and he was of exactly the hardy constitution and skillset needed to relieve some of the pressure – he already ran quite warm, but more and more lately it seemed as though the cold scarce bothered him, and his stamina and general strength were rather greater than the average knight on their best day – so he was happy to lend his services whenever they were needed. 

Unfortunately, just as he and the rest of the knights had become comfortable with these tasks, learning the temperament of the animals and the woods around them, so too, it seemed, did the wood and the animals begin to adapt to their presence. 

Sigurd sighed lightly, his breath curling steam with his disappointment as he saw the buck dance off into the white away from them, streaking the ground with a delicate trail of red as it went – straight into a den of wolves. 

It seemed that the buck thought that he might take his chances with the lesser of two evils. 

Sigurd cocked a brow, listening as his young charge spoke, his lips rising into an indulgent grin as she finished. "Perhaps," he said, kindly, "If our intention were merely to survive the wilderness, that would be the soundest plan – but it is not. Our aim is to gather food to bring back to the monastery, and that is what we must be prepared to do. It is not merely ourselves we are trying to feed, but dozens and more mouths. 

"If it is your life that you fear for, worry not – I am rather old hat at this business," he added, grin turning to a smirk, before he began to move once more, through the snow at a fair, loping pace after their quarry. 

sigurd no swiping

[sayhwaet]

Beowolf considered himself to be steady in the saddle, a solid hand on the pommel of any warhorse or racing mount, and he'd had his fair share of experience with all breeds, and shapes, and sizes. Made life difficult if you couldn't get the upper hand on such a huge tract of land as the Agustrian countryside, and made it easier to turn tail and book it if you were familiar with all kinds of mounts. 

None o' that flying shit, though. That turned his stomach. 

So when he'd arrived at the monastery and found its stables well stocked and filled with not just horses of all shapes and sizes, but also a variety of animals primed for riding, he'd had a grand ol' time touring about and making himself acquainted. 

He could not help himself when he laughed at the prospect of riding a wolf, and had poked his head in on a recent seminar, listening to the pros talk about these feral beasts the same way he'd seen fancy men talk to their horses. But, oh, the difference in stature was clear, and it seemed to him, watching the beasts move, that these things could book it in terrain that he'd ever only dreamed of. 

As he approached for the follow-up seminar, he didn't suppose he could be too terribly surprised that attendance had dropped dramatically. 

"Some wacky shit, ain't it?" He said with a grin to the dark skinned woman rubbing the ruff of a wolf. As it clicked that she was to be the day's instructor, he whistled, low and appreciative. "You ride these things where you're from? Hat's off, girl." 

potentially deadly wolf lessons

[thiefknight]

He manages to dodge her second arrow, but only just barely, and it whizzes past his head so closely that he's sure there must be gold paint in his hair now. Ah well--nothing he can't recover from.

"What makes you like the Golden Deer so much, anyhow?" he calls toward her. He is genuinely curious, but more than that, he's trying to distract her. Get her thinking about something else so that he can sneak up on her. As he speaks, he begins very slowly making his way around the pillars, looking for the one she is hiding behind.

For all his lifetime of practice in stealth techniques, however, he hasn't learned his way around this place yet at all. Nor has he had much chance to scout ahead, with everyone painting each other with arrows all day. Unfortunately, this makes him extremely vulnerable to her as he whips around a pillar he is certain is the correct one, only to find the space as empty as all the others.

"Where did you go..."

red vs gold

[thiefknight]

He is quick to fling himself out of the way of the arrow, although it catches him in the lower leg just enough to leave a flash of gold paint behind. Surprising--no one has been able to hit him at all, yet, and he's impressed that his first "damage" came from someone he knew. Taking stock of the situation, he reaches for another arrow and readies it as he darts behind a nearby stone wall.

"Timerra," he calls from his half-hidden location. "I wasn't expecting you to be fighting for the other side!"

It isn't a fight, and the sides don't really matter. Even so, Zelkov is entirely in his element in this game, and he may be taking it a little bit too seriously. Possibly.

After just another moment's wait, he dashes to the other side of the stone wall and emerges, aiming his arrow at her once again and letting it fly. They may have fought in the same war previously, but now? It's every Elyosian for themselves.

red vs gold

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

solmtinel

not so gently timerra is reminded of solm’s isolation before everything that happened with the divine dragon. of how the queendom relied only on itself and not a single ally to protect its place in the world. allies were fun and all, but they could betray you at anytime— she finds herself falling back into that mindset.

“…”

silence so deafening you could hear a pin drop. she unintentionally stops where she is, her mount sensing the emotional distress rolling off her in waves. was she silly to think he would apologize? was she silly to think so quickly that maybe they could become friends?

he’d called them comrades just moments earlier, but comrades betray each other all the time. she shouldn’t be surprised over this behavior. “i guess you were lying about being comrades at the end of the day.” she finally speaks with a serious gaze, her grip on her reigns tightening out of the stress on her mind.

she turns away from him, kicking at her horse’s side to get it to go just the bit faster than raven. within distance of him if he wanted to say sorry, but far enough that she didn’t have to look over and see that stupid scowl on his face.

And like that she pushed ahead, trotting her horse along the path to put distance between them. For a moment, Raven almost thought that she would make the race back to the monastery to leave him in the dust out of spite, but he noticed that she slowed her pace some dozen yards ahead of him. He scoffed aloud at the stern set of her spine, the proud slant of her head – did she think she was being gracious, attempting to bait an apology out of him? 

At the end of the day, these are still children, but the sentiment carried none of the sympathy it usually did, acidic pettiness staining his capacity for empathy at the moment, corroding further every mile they traveled in tense, heavy silence back to the monastery, well within calling distance but both unwilling to move the barest inch. 

They reached the monastery and it was clear to see that both were coiled taut enough to shatter at the slightest provocation, the page in the stables taking the horses from them in meek silence. Raven took the stairs up to deliver their mission report two at a time, simmering in his discontent, and debriefed in short, clipped tones, excusing himself eventually to make it just in time for last call in mess. 

He took what he could get, a cold serving of pasta and lukewarm barley tea, in his room before shucking his boots and depositing himself facefirst into his bed for a fitful night of sleep. Vaguely, his brow furrowing against the pressed linen of his pillowcase, he thought of times past, sitting around a cookfire with those he might call friends, eating freshly caught roast meat.

- Fin

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

solmtinel

“hey now, i didnt mean that as a bad thing—“ she starts to say, immediately recognizing the edge in his voice. this time, however, it’s not funny.

especially so when he brings out his own insult— when she hadn’t even meant for the last thing she said to be one herself. a frown accompanies the very first genuine disappointment she feels in him. disappointment quickly turns to a brewing anger.

he doesn’t know what she’s been through. he doesn’t know how she’s been out there every day fighting directly for her people. she knows this, but that doesn’t change how much it hurts. it doesn’t change the regret she feels opening up to him just that little bit. “the only thing on my mind as a princess are my people. i don’t have time for romance, not when it wouldn’t benefit solm in any way.” she bites back, losing her joyous tone from before. her gaze narrows upon him. “are you done insulting solm, or should i not even bother with you and ride on ahead?”

if he apologizes. she tells herself. she’ll forgive him.

A bubble of resentment welled up in him at her reaction, her hot temper feeding his. He didn't give a damn about Solm, let alone enough to insult it, but her pushiness had aggravated him from the start, her inability to let sleeping dogs lie smacking of immaturity. If something as simple as being embarrassed got such a rise out of her, she would make as fine a ruler in her country as Raven had seen in his own. It wasn't his place to teach her how to behave, but the spiteful, hurt part of him couldn't help but twist the knife. 

Raven snorted, deigning to grace her with a scowl. "If the idea of romance is so insulting to you, it's no wonder you behaved so ridiculously back at the village. Indeed, it seemed to be the only thing on your mind back there. Seems to me that's a priority for most girls your age, noble or not, but especially so for a princess. Suppose that's why you needed to be sent to this finishing school," he added sourly, "to file off the rough edges." 

He clicked his tongue when his horse knickered at the shift in tensions, reached down to pat the beast's great neck gently. "If you choose to ride ahead, princess, please, don't let me stop you. It is only ever my greatest wish that you should follow your heart, after all. As your soulmate."

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

solmtinel

“a vassal huh?” she hums in amusement. tempted she is to ask more of what he actually is to her, but she doesn’t think she’ll get any better an answer than what he’s already given her. she’s fibbed her way through her identity before anyways, so she can’t say she blames him for being short about it. “can’t say i can imagine you as a vassal, raymond.” she points out instead of asking the hundred questions on her mind.

"i think those elders would have been even more convinced you were ‘my man’ if you told them that, though.” timerra jokes with a lighthearted laugh. “they probably would have spun it as lovers crossing nations to be with each other."

He stiffened at the commentary, the leather of his reins creaking as his grip tightened. No, he supposed he didn't come off as a vassal, for subordinate was never something that he had trained to be, never suited him. And he had been alone for so long that he was certain something in his manner was off, habits or not – he still had not found the right balance of his upbringing and his years as a mercenary. 

He supposed he couldn't fault her the assumption, but there was a needling to her tone, a desire to know more that instinctively drew the walls back up around him. 

"Then I guess you don't know me as well as you think you do," he said simply, raising his chin a bit. "We all come from different backgrounds. I'd never picture you as a princess, either." It wasn't meant to be accusatory, but he couldn't help the rough edge around his tone at the word. 

He cast a glance over at her, a simple down-up once-over, before he returned his eyes to the road. "Used to suitors travelling from faraway to court you, are you, your highness?" he said dryly. 

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

solmtinel

“i swear you aren’t prepared for how good it’s going to be.” solm’s princess grins, even in the face of hardly any reaction from raven. she can see at least that he is listening to her judging by the tighter expression on his face. all she needs to talk is to know that she’s being listened to. they return to silence for part of the ride before a question comes to mind.

“hey, so how do you know lyn?” she shifts her weight as she turns her head to look at raymond for the brief moment the question lingers in the air between them. “i mean, i fought alongside her as an emblem before but i don’t think she ever mentioned a raymond. are you guys even actually friends or is it like a... fought in the same army type of deal?”

"I will try to prepare myself," he said, and thought for a moment afterwards that perhaps he better had, actually. From the way she kept bringing it up, how it was the first thing she used to smooth over ruffled feathers, it was clear that her country's fare was something that she held quite dear, and it seemed to him that her ability to create it in any environment was something that she was quite proud of.

He wasn't particular, no, but if something went awry, he wanted to make sure he steeled himself not to show it. And if he enjoyed it, well, then all the better. No matter how dour he had become in the last few years, he still could not bring himself to disrespect a gift given in earnestness, and loath be it that he should break a young girl's heart by saying that he didn't like her cooking.

"I'm…sure it'll be great," he added softly after a moment, still not taking his eyes from the road.

And then the question.

He knew that he would regret bringing up his association with the Lady Caelin, knew it was stupid to have brought it up in the first place - it was just a stupid miscommunication - but in the careful juggle of all of his lies that allowed him to live safely in Garreg Mach for the time being, Lady Caelin was the one truth that could send everything crashing to the ground.

"We didn't fight together, no," he said hesitantly, working through the minefield in his mind. "I…was a vassal in her home, briefly. Working there for the time I did is what encouraged me to come to the monastery, in respect of my family's wishes."

It wasn't a lie.

Not really.

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

solmtinel

"ooh comrades! that sounds nice, i like it." she says this with a lighthearted laugh, climbing up onto her horse and beginning their ride back together. she feels a tad better knowing that her grievance s hadn't settled too deeply in his heart.

"humble type, huh? alright, fair enough." she hums. "but i still want you to get a taste of solm. our way of cooking meat makes even a bad cut of meat taste like heaven." she boasts proudly of her nation's cultures to him as she watches both him and the path home simultaneously, wanting to see the kind of expressions he could make.

"oh yeah, our forces are made out of mainly wolf knights. it's hard to find any pegasi or horses out in the desert but riding wolves are abundant in my queendom." he didn't even know you could ride wolves, so she thinks it okay to at least share that bit about solm. "they're crazy little guys. totally different from normal mounts, but i love em'."

And that easily, her serious demeanor had slipped back into gregariousness, chattering happily about her culture, about its food and its forces. Raven kept his eyes on the road enough for the both of them, steering his horse in such a way to ensure that hers did not veer, and listened, stonefaced. Were it not for the minute creasing of his eyes, or the furrow in his brow, it would be easy to assume he was ignoring her, though a sharper individual would know that he was processing, storing the information for later. 

"If you insist," he said in response to her claim about her cooking style. "I'll be happy to try whatever you make." He wasn't particular with his meals – roadside inns, the academy mess hall, roadside fires, much of it was all the same. If she truly wanted to share her meat with him, he wouldn't fight her on it. 

Her comments about the wolves in her country's military piqued his interest – he might have assumed that she was simply making it up, pulling his leg for a little more fun at his expense, were it not for how she held herself in the saddle knees tight, leaning back. Whether she was a habitual rider or not, it was clear that horses were not her area of expertise. He grunted in response to her chattering, idly noting that it would be harder to kill a wolf if it came down to it. 

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

solmtinel

while it was all fun and games for her, timerra can see clearly that raymond's been pushed to the limit with all this physical affection— which she isn't surprised about. that's just how broody mercenaries tended to be. didn't like to be touched a lot, among other things. she glances towards him as he moves to leave, hoping to follow him but being stopped to talk further about the matter at hand.

and of course she bows her head, even genuinely apologizes for all the ruckus they'd caused. she had her fun moments but at the end of the day she was still a princess soon to become queen. there was a noble diplomat locked inside under all that energy of hers.

she isn't able to escape more blessings of romance upon her and her supposed lover, though she makes effort to return to raymond's side as soon as possible. (that probably doesn't help the whole lovers miscommunication on their end.)

"yeah, i'm done." she speaks plainly, closing the distance between them. she goes silent for a moment... before deciding to offer an apology. "i wanted to apologize for earlier, actually. i pushed you too far, didn't i?" this is the first time she faces him with a genuinely serious exterior— the first time she faces him as princess of solm. "i hope you'll accept an offer of solm's fines roast meat as an apology gift when we get back to the monastery. i could teach you a thing or two about riding wolves too, if that piques your interest."

The demeanor shift didn't go unnoticed, and Raven looked at her sidelong for a moment before nodding. He was no child throwing a tantrum, and he had been raised with a stern emphasis on courtesy. No matter uncomfortable she had made him – no doubt would continue to make him in the future – his mother would never forgive him leaving an apology to air. 

"It's...look, it's fine. We did what we needed to do to ensure that the mission completed successfully. At the end of the day, we're...comrades." The word stuck in his throat for a moment, and he struggled to come to terms with the fact that he meant it. It was something that he would have to get used to if he were to stay here at the monastery, and he couldn't afford to jeopardize his chance over something so trivial as being embarrassed. 

He didn't look at her for another moment as they rode, her offer weighing in the air. "You don't have to – you don't have to give me anything. It's fine," he said after another moment, before sighing, his head dropping a little in resignation. "But if you want to share a meal, then. Then we can do that. We'll be getting back to the monastery before final meals anyway. We've had a long day," he added without looking at her. 

Another moment of silence, turning the rest of the words over in his mind. "You ride wolves where you're from?" 

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

solmtinel

raymond's new attitude hardly scares her, in fact, she would actually call it pretty funny. when you catch plenty of bandits by surprise in the desert though, it's hard to find anything all that scary.

she snorts, her smile tight lipped. this whole thing really was an exercise on keeping your cool and not laughing. "look at my dear raymond, you can see why i gave him that sword can't you?" she locks eyes with him as well, hardly even blinking.

it's really gonna take more than a stoic mercenary to do her in.

some of the elders seem to spout tears as the man translates for him. timerra has have a mind to think, after all the miscommunications, that he makes it far more dashing than it actually is.

"remember to keep those bonds close to your heart, forever." he speaks further for the elders and well— this might have been kind of sweet if they'd actually been lady lyndis and her destined to be apart love................ but they're not, so it just elicits more giggles from her.

"yes sir. we'll do that sir." she salutes him playfully, mockingly.

There were croons and whispers as they left the hall, and Raven  couldn't help but grimace at the parting shot of "remember to keep those bonds close to your heart, forever" and the jaunty taunt of his partner's response. 

If anything, he would be working to forget any part of the day had happened. The misunderstanding had been frustrating, but fine – plenty of older folks needed jobs done, plenty of folks who didn't speak the same language as he did. Being a foreigner in this land, he understood that sometimes these things happened. 

But the direction it swerved in veered dangerously close to humiliating, and he rankled at the consistent physical contact with his partner. He was sure she was a lovely girl – merely loud, annoying, pushy – but he felt itchy beneath his skin. It wasn't that he'd never been in close contact with another person before – sometimes these things happened – but the tenor of the conversation wasn't something that he had been in control of, hadn't been discussed and agreed upon, and he wanted it as far from his mind as possible. 

Without waiting for Timerra to finish saying her goodbyes to the counsel of elders and the village steward – would hate for Lady Lyndis not to get her proper facetime – Raven stalked off, making for the horses that waited for them. Sourly, it occurred to him that preparing the mounts in advance of her cemented his role as the adoring vassal, but that came second in his mind to getting the fuck out of there. 

"Are you done?" He snapped when she finally approached, handing her the reins to her horse and mounting his own brusquely. "If we leave now, we can get back to the monastery by sundown." 

He desperately needed a meal in him, and an hour alone in the sauna. 

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

solmtinel

she blinks in surprise at the bold actions of the steward, watching as raymond is brought to his feet. for a second she'd thought she'd completely messed up with her answer but...

young lovers.

so the council thought they were a couple again? perhaps it was better to just let them believe what they ought to believe if it meant they'd be able to leave. "oh, that's great!" a smile returns to her face........ before she is promptly brought into a loving embrace with raymond.

they could think they were lovers all they want, but a hug like this is probably a bit more than embarrassing for her partner in crime. she laughs. "well no need to be shy ol' raymond! give your lady lyndis a proper hug!" she teases, wrapping her arms around the man.

absolutely would be worth it to be scolded later just from the look on his face.

6…7…8… Raven counted the seconds in his head, forcing himself to keep his cool at the growing spectacle.

And then he felt the great elder being pushed aside, and lithe arms snaking around his torso. Timerra's mocking voice came much closer to his ear, and he leveled a glare at her before hissing, "As the Lady Lyndis demands."

His arms had previously just hung limply at his sides, but at Timerra's insistence he brought them up, one pinning her body to his tightly while the other came up to grip at the back of her neck. This drew gentle oohs from the spectators, and the elders seemed well-pleased with the presentation.

If that's what they want, then…

"It is as you say, great elder," he said to all gathered, his tone rough and irritated. "The Lady Lyndis and I are never to be wed for she is - " the words stuck bitterly in his mouth before he spat them out, "far higher status than I. Rest assured, though, that I will never forget her, no matter what happens."

He pulled back from the embrace momentarily, and tightened his fingers on the back of Timerra's neck spitefully as he locked eyes with her. "Never."