#kingoftempest

[theofficersacademy]

It's been a difficult decision, but I'm afraid I'll have to drop Dimitri and Petra for the time being. Work (and life in general, but most work) has been kicking my butt, and it doesn't feel right to just hoard muses for a time when I'll be less busy. Thank you for all the good times and I hope to be back soon!

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and Petra Macneary have been dropped and are now available!

- Mod Ree

[herrings]

tomodachi quest.

on the third night of their plight, there’s fireflies. away from the banks, they drift in minimal presence. a lone luminescence amidst the dreary night, a lone guidance— drifting. their presence tonight is profound, linhardt thinks. for, somewhere in a book he had read, they were symbolic for the spirits of the fallen. he may not have known the bodies that had plagued the banks personally but, as a firefly rests upon his shoulder and dimly glows, he cannot help but be appreciative. by an odd chance, perhaps the soldiers’ spirits have carried to these adrift lights. a good conclusion, linhardt thinks as he watches the beetle, an ending to which they are cleansed the horrific, final moments of war.

he’s about done with his business in the foliage when a violent rustle catches the heir’s attention. it startles him, heart leaping to the flat of his tongue as he freezes, alert. it’s silent— then, he hears it again, louder, paired with a harsh howl of wind. it is only when the rustling comes closer that linhardt springs to his feet, the firefly on his shoulder immediately taking off as the heir stumbles back. when a snap is heard near him, linhardt’s breath hitches, then he twists and jets off into the direction back to camp.

“dimitri—!” he calls breathless once he makes it back to familiarity, where a figure sits by the campside flame. the heir scrambles about until he plops himself by his schoolmate, skin pallid. “dimitri, i—!” no, he can’t talk— he’s wasting breath-- he needs a moment to collect himself— linhardt topples over, hands clawing at his chest as he desperately tries to calm his breath.

“dimitri, there’s-- there’s something over there..!” linhardt points to where he came, “and it tried to chase me...!” no, he definitely wasn’t overacting and he definitely wasn’t influenced by mercedes’ ghost story earlier. he was being rational. completely rational and very much justified about an unknown source in the forests. 

@kingoftempests ( @maesterofmagic and @forlornwyvernrider included. )

[wolfhednn]

IT’S A STORY ABOUT FREEDOM. — メ

          the crustaceans are rebelling, hungry for liberation from their oppressors. this makes sense, of course. actually, the whole of the wildlife on the beach are rebelling; seagrass wave their stalks in indignation, clamoring with voices heard only in inexplicable, inherent knowledge; ocean birds cry their fury, winging overhead in militant circles; shellfish clatter; horseshoe crabs scuttle up from the surf, spear-like tails jabbing at the sand; the whole stretch of sandbar rises up in revolution like a veritable army of marine life.

          he’s fighting alongside them. this, of course, also makes sense. in the same way that looking to his side and seeing the boar, as well as hubert of house vestra and a girl he’s only spoken with once but knows fleetingly as constance, the last remnant of house nuvelle, also makes complete sense.

          he’s never wielded a blade, which is what he understands the folding polearm device in constance’s hands to be. he’s never been skilled at magic. but what he does know — his fist, padded by the hollowed-out half of a coconut shell, slams into a plastic straw, which he doesn’t realize shouldn’t be so compact — is how to fight at close quarters. the soldier belonging to the lord baja blast’s men crumples to the sand, opening the way for their advance.

          ❝ we’re wasting our time here, ❞ he calls across to hubert, who, by understanding simply granted without origin, he knows to have been their tactician in this assault. ❝ where is the one leading them! ❞

» @vonvestra, @kingoftempests, or @irroche

[alfvangr]

"Ah, Alfonse, I'm glad I caught you." Dimitri approached, a plastic bottle in his hands. "I found this while rummaging through one of the closets in my room here. It says its some sort of sun protection salve? The directions say to rub it into the skin, but I've been having some trouble reaching my back. Would you mind rubbing this onto me once I remove my shirt? I'm happy to return the favor." Dimitri wore a pleasant smile as a hand rested at the button near his collar, ready.

Stranger things have happened in the past—being transported to a beach by some otherworldly power after “expunging evil from five realities” scarcely fazes him, now. Much as he’d rather they just return to their proper world already, a chance to relax and recuperate doesn’t sound so bad... and he gets the distinct feeling it’s been a considerable length of time since he last saw certain faces.

"Oh, Di- I mean, Prince Dimitri,” Alfonse greets in return, smiling warmly even as he hopes his brief lapse in formality goes unnoticed. he hasn’t grown as close to this dimitri. he can’t use his name so casually—dimitri only uses his because he’d kept his title a secret. “Of course I’ll help. And I appreciate you going out of your way to do the same for me.”

Calloused hand—for once, free of the glove that always seems to encase it—plucks the bottle from Dimitri’s grasp, uncapping it while waiting for the other to free himself from the confines of his shirt. Looks up a second or two after, and—

—nearly drops the container when he gets an eyeful of muscular back covered in scars, fair cheeks flushing red. Breath is caught in his chest—he knows the other prince is strong, but everything Dimitri wears manages to hide the evidence of it. An awkward cough, and Alfonse gets to work rubbing the salve onto his classmate’s skin without comment. He doesn’t trust his voice not to produce an embarrassing squeak should he attempt to speak at this particular moment.

[verseandrhyme]

🥝  :    does my muse have any  ‘  unusual  ’  habits,  interests,  and  /  or talents?  do they hide it,  or are they proud of it?  

Fruit headcanons

Also asked by @soireenea and @kingoftempests

The haikus is probably an obvious weird habit of hers so glossing right over that one.

As the result of an old thread on my old Mitama blog with Pent, Mitama raises birds. Pigeons, mostly. She had to abandon most of them in her deeprealm when she was dragged along to the warfront, but her caretakers are still keeping the alive and well as per her instructions. She experimented with using them to send letters through to other deeprealms when she was younger, but only one of the birds was ever really good at actually crossing the realms.

If you ever see a particularly fat and spoiled pigeon around the monastery, that’s Mitama’s, please don’t bully him.

She also studies cursed artifacts and ways to contain them, inspired by a certain accident when she was younger. She hasn’t gotten a particularly good grasp on not making them yet, but she knows well enough how to contain them if they do appear.

Modern AU Mitama can rap.

She’s not particularly embarrassed about any of her hobbies or anything she does, really, so she has no qualms about sharing what she knows with others. She could probably ramble until she fell asleep about something that interested her, if you let her.

[regalblades]

“Lloyd! Join the Blue Lions!” Did it makes sense? Not particularly, but Dimitri had already gotten Pent with his gambit, so why not the other adult figure hanging around the sandbar that day? With another heave of the bin, Dimitri launched its volume towards the knight.

A raised brow, and he turns in the direction of Dimitri’s voice—

Result: Hit!

Ah. It may as well have been a tidal wave for how it crashes into him, thoroughly drenching him from head to toe with the excess dripping from saturated hair and fabric. He blinks once. Twice.

“You have five seconds to start running.”

Lloyd has been aggro’d into joining Waterwall. Lloyd will remember this.

[flowerofgoneril]

Competition did things to a man. Unwise things. It was with this distorted image of a good idea that Dimitri emerged from the bushes, running like a demon released from hell towards the first person that he saw. It was only after he had flung the water at the washbin that he had realized who exactly his unwitting target was. Uh-oh.

[roll 4]

Hilda's eyes grew wide with fear as a crazed Dimitri ran toward her, wash bin in tow. She had seen this look before. The determination to win in his eyes was the same look she saw in the husk that she had slain. For a split second, she was back on that battlefield, Freikugel in hand, monster rushing toward her.

She did the only thing she could thing to do. She screeched and ducked, covering her head. The water was tossed right over her and she was safe. Hilda stayed there a moment more before Dimitri left and went on his way.

[minorindech]

The prince stood before the von Varley heir, holding a flowering branch the size of his torso. "Bernadetta, I wanted to thank you for your help in the greenhouse," he chimed, holding out the bough covered with soft pink petals towards her. "Admittedly, I'm still learning how to best care for delicate things, so I apologize for the rather unwieldy presentation. But nonetheless, I thought you might enjoy these given your affinity for plants!"

Of all the things to happen on this beach Bernadetta didn’t remember coming to, getting handed what was practically a flowering log by the prince of Faerghus was not one of them.

(Why did the thought of Faerghus make her heart race so intensely?)

“Woah!” Bernadetta stumbled a bit as the bough was handed to her. One end of it landed with a thump on the sand, but she managed to stay upright on her shaking legs. “H-how did you...Where did you...You found the greenhouse here?”

Still, the flowers sprouting from it looked healthy. It was...actually kind of pretty, despite how strange it was to be holding it. “U-um, you’re welcome! I really don’t feel like I helped all that much but I’m, uh, glad you found it useful? I’d, uh...maybe pluck the flowers from it next time, I don’t think I’m as strong as you to carry this around!”

Oh, wait, hadn’t Cynthia started a game? “A-are you collecting signatures too? I, um...I guess I can give you mine? If you want the signature of someone like me.”

[carcinac]

He'd never seen the other gentleman before, but he knew that his name was Ferdinand von Aegir. In fact, arguably everyone in a half-mile radius knew that he was Ferdinand von Aegir, as he certainly never passed up the opportunity to introduce himself. His relationship to Edelgard was questionable at best, but one thing was for certain: he was no Blue Lion. And that was enough. Dimitri ran forward, the arc of the follow-through embedded in his muscles, as he launched a tub of water at the noble.

why, if it isn’t the crown prince of faerghus! ferdinand may be no citizen of faerghus, but anyone with an introductory level of knowledge in fodlan knew the incoming rulers of each nation. it seems as if prince dimitri wishes to converse, much to the aegir scion’s delight. jubilation sparks in amber hues, a wide grin splayed upon smooth lips as ferdinand prepares himself for an introduction. there is much to talk about with prince dimitri and, whilst he’d much prefer if they spoke of matters over tea, the shoreline was decent enough.

...but why was dimitri running?

ferdinand was well prepared to inquire, a singular brow vaguely dented in confusion, before he noticed the presence of a basin. right, they were still in the midst of battle and it seems as if dimitri is leading the frontlines for his team.

roll: 5! total miss!

as the tub of water is launched, ferdinand swings his forgotten orca floatie forth. it makes for good defense, for its immense size shields the aegir heir from an incoming splash. beneath monochromatic material, he laughs. “ha, all in good name!” he says as he lowers the whale, lips quirked upwards, “though, a suggestion? you’re better off conversing with me over tea than… whatever it is that you have done, prince dimitri.”

[arcstral]

🏊

send 🏊‍♂️ to go swimming with my muse

               Altea. A small but rich island fenced in by the watery pen of an ocean, one no less sweet and blue as the sugar crystals clustered atop desserts. All the qualities of his maritime nation meant that Marth was acquainted quite intimately with the sea. A faithful friend he has always seen just yonder his bedroom window, even a playmate that has indulged him since he was a young boy spinning his wildest imagination round and round.

                The practiced strokes of his arms wheeling him through the water could attest to his experience, though it has numbered a few years at least since he last sunk himself into any pool that was not his bathtub. He is out of practice, a little out of touch. As his head breaks from the surface the prince swipes a hand through the front of his hair, nudging the wet strands from his face. His clarified vision affords him the sight of a blond nobleman swimming some distance away. They look to be similarly aged, and more importantly, enjoying the leisures of a dip in the waves just as well as one another. It grants him a bright idea.  

               “-Ahoy!” Marth calls out good-naturedly to the other, paddling his way on over before floating within arm’s reach. He sees the question in this young man’s eyes and extends an informal smile first and foremost, “I see you are sparing no effort in enjoying the cool water. I, myself, am the same way! If there is no further activity to preoccupy you.. How about a small and friendly race? Your physique tells me that you’d make a fine competitor.”

[nobletoatea]

Ice Ice Baby [Dimitri & Lorenz]

+1 Authority Mission Starter for @kingoftempests

Lorenz had spent time in Fhirdiad braving the cold winters up north, but he still felt frozen to the bone and full of complaints whenever winter rolled around in any other part of Fodlan. As a noble, of course, he must be a role model and not make sour faces and yell at the sky whenever he set a foot outside, but he still envied anyone who was able to simply curl up with a cup of tea as he longed to at the moment.

But, he had a responsibility.

The monastery staff had a delightful idea to recruit students to chip away at the pond for ice storage. Now, as rumor had it, the waters were not nearly as pristine and holy as Lorenz wished, but he decided to simply pray that the monastery’s ice storage would be sanctified despite whoever might have... immersed themselves in it beforehand.

His fortunes had turned around in terms of a work partner. Prince Dimitri seemed more unfazed by the cold than Lorenz, whose nose was beginning to turn red like a rose when his scarf slipped down his face. Dimitri was responsible, right? Surely this would go just fine.

Lorenz figured he had to let the other lead out of respect. Perhaps down the road as fellow leaders, they would remember this incident fondly. He ignored the frigid air biting at his toes and nodded to Dimitri, getting ready with an ice cutter. “I’m afraid I am more suited towards fairer weather Your Highness, but I shall assist as best I can. You must have more experience with manual labor such as this?” Whoops, that sounded bad. He winced behind his scarf. “That is to say, I am used to rose gardens and rolling fields, not ice and any work that stems from it. I am yours to guide.”

[herrings]

There had been a rush of goodwill going around lately: Cynthia, Gaius, even Lorenz seemed to be offering warm smiles and even warmer wishes in reunion. With all the cheer, perhaps this was the time for penance. "Linhardt?" Dimitri called, trying desperately to look above the waist look above the waist for the Love of the Goddess look above the waist—! Willing himself to forget the forest, the prince cast his gaze to the sky and presented the Adrestian with a plate. On it, a single baked potato.

of all the skips that have fallen in linhardt’s memory, there is one recalling that particularly haunts him. ominous woodplains, the sensation of being watched, and a chill that crept down his neck until the snapping of twigs made him dart away. he remembers seeking for prince dimitri, to which the house leader had cast him a look of concern, and then--!

utter embarrassment.

the hevring heir was inclined to believe that his memory had been misguided, that it must have been a tale spun by his imagination after indulging in a serving of peach sorbet before bed. no matter what the scenario called for, why would he carelessly flash himself in front of someone? and prince dimitri nevertheless? the young adrestian has never been much a fan of the blue lions; there’s no reason for him and prince dimitri to be in the same vicinity beyond classes.

and yet, dimitri approaches. the prince calls out to him, which causes linhardt’s attention to perk up. the hevring heir blinks at first, none the wiser. aegean hues attempt to lock onto brighter azure, which seems to be avoidant of his gaze--

no, they’re focusing elsewhere.

            the silent gesture confirms linhardt’s doubts.

just as dimitri forces his attention skywards, bursts of color stain porcelain cheeks. “dimitri, i, um.” the heir’s voice falters as his mind rampantly scavenges for appropriate words. ultimately, linhardt chooses to hold his silence as he, too, yanks his head upwards to focus on clouds. he holds out his hands, nearly taking the plate from dimitri, when the call of gulls alerts his ears. there’s little time to react before a pack of them go on their downwards descent, attention locked on the baked potato between them.

“dimitri!” the mage gasps, then instinctively moves to swivel himself to use the older male as a shield as the birds begin their onslaught. they tackle down the plate, tossing the offering into the sand before the poor meal is caught between wrestling beaks.

[wolfhednn]

SAKURA BEFORE THE GRAVE. — メ

          sunset over the seemingly interminable shoreline breaks like a sky backlit by flames. tails of clouds streak in the final, intense glow of dying daylight like rosy tracks of blood against a sharp, sweet contrast of lazuli blue. the sun dangles just above the sea, a searing, boundless halo like the first distant signs of ragnarok detonating. he clenches his jaw against the expectation of an incoming, surging heatwave followed by the roar of fire, against the urge to duck to the ground and roll.

          they had walked out of a war, all of them. one that he suspects none of them had been prepared for. it’s painfully clear how small the skirmishes and battlefields he’s seen before now are in comparison.

          but the faces of the suffering never change.

          the deceptively gentle chime of ice against a glass rim announces his approach, and he thrusts the overly sweet fruit beverage into dimitri’s periphery without a word, keeping his own gaze fixed on the dwindling horizon far out past the sequestered hilltop. the warm breath of early evening washes over them both and through the shore grasses, coaxes him from visions of a matted golden beast and wild eyes he’s seen before, he’s seen countless times in sleep since. ( but it feels different now. ever since what he isn’t sure could, or couldn’t have been, a shared dream reality where they’d looked on the manifestation of the boar’s true face. or what it could be. )

          ❝ you’ve been up here all day. ❞ the gruffness makes it sounds like a reprimand, and he prefers it that way. ❝ you’re no use to anyone if you don’t at least drink something. here. ❞

@kingoftempests​

[devotedscholar]

a stable hand

starter for @kingoftempests !!

If he were to get a piece of gold every time that Erk was easily roped into something completely outside of his ability, he would have no need to ever do anything again in his life. (Not that it would prevent it from happening, no.) And so, he found himself completely out his element at the stables. What help he would be was beyond him, but he was willing to at least give it a shot.

There was a stable hand instructing him as they tried reining in the pegasi. Was completely out of his element, he knew, but that wasn’t so bad. A learning experience, after all. That was what he had thought, but on reassessing the situation, maybe that was wrong. 

Since all things inevitably go south for him, today was no exception. As he ran supplies back and forth for the stable hands, one of them grabbed his coat and gestured towards a pegasus that had wandered off with a “Please?” and he sighed at the lack of help. Why would it be easy.

He darted after the animal, trying to get it to slow down. It stopped and stared at him silently, but the moment he put a hand on its reigns, it continued trotting off. (Not flying thankfully.) He quickened his pace and tried coaxing it to stop, but no dice.

Attempting to dig his heels in, the frozen ground wouldn’t give and he slipped, slamming into the ground. The pegasus made a sound as if laughing and continued onwards. Erk scrambled to his feet and found the first pair of hands that could help. It was one of the house leaders - Dimitri, he recalled. Hated to bother him, but it couldn’t be helped. “Do you mind lending me a hand? It uh, it’s not listening.” He pointed over his shoulder at the pegasus that would most definitely was starting to give him a headache. 

[venalier]

CREPUSCULAR CREATURES. — ♡

          well, this brings back memories, doesn’t it. except when she did this before, it had been around an encampment of tents and lean-to’s set up mid-march, with the real possibility of an attack hanging in the air; only a couple times had it actually been at a compound of some kind — a fort, maybe, or among distorted ruins strewn through a fantastical landscape as they’d ventured into that strange, forgotten world. thankfully, this isn’t anything as dangerous as that; in fact, it feels a little underwhelming here, at a monastery already so well-protected, nested in the sanctuary of peace. but she understands — this is a military academy, after all, and it’s just part of the training. it’s good to feel qualified for something, though, and no reason to be any less vigilant. who knows, there might be a thief prowling around the instant she lets down her guard, like that one occasion during the war.

          speaking of which, the partner she’d been paired on the task with is waiting for her under the wooden infrastructure of the first floor dorms, and she hastens her step, glad to see that he’s on time and looks as ready as she feels. the serendipity of the situation doesn’t miss her, and she can’t help but smile; he’s not brown-haired, but cleanly blond; wearing blue, not red; the weapon slung across his back is a straight spear like those common to the soldiers of nohr, not a curved naginata,

          but it’s just her luck to keep getting stuck with princes for nighttime patrol duty, huh?

          she approaches at a jog, lifting an arm in greeting. ❝ dimitri, hello! i’m— oh, ogre toes, i’m so sorry. ❞ she hastily bows, then starts again, kicking herself mentally. he might be a prince, even a spear-wielding one who seems just as big-hearted as hoshido’s from what little she knows, but that hardly means they’re the same person. she’s only been here a handful of weeks and already on track to forgetting herself. ❝ evening, prince dimitri. i’m grateful you’re taking the time to go on patrol duty with me. it’s an honor. ❞

@kingoftempests

[regalblades]

hell’s wheel of pain

[Grants +1 Riding, Flying, or Heavy Armor]

The Valley of Torment is a name earned.

It is unbearably hot, in direct contrast to the frigid winds and snow that presently permeate the rest of the region. The summer sun at its worst is nothing compared to this; Lloyd’s grimace is thinly veiled as the swordsman picks at his coat. Heat and dark clothing do not mix very well; clings to him like a second skin due to sweat, only serving to amplify his discomfort—and they’re to spend however long it takes to reach the opposite end of the valley enduring it.

Never mind that once they’ve made it through, too hot will become too cold once more. Doubtless their group will need to stop and adjust—but that’s a problem to be dealt with when they get there.

Lloyd wonders why they have to go through the valley in the first place. Are there really no alternative routes they could take to cross into Faerghus? That over the course of centuries, no other roads were cut through the mountains separating the Kingdom and Alliance? It is no wonder, then, that merchants from the latter typically enter the former’s territory by ship instead.

“Sir!” A knight from his assigned unit approaches him; the man looks as if he’s on the verge of wilting in the unrelenting heat. “Everything is secure for transport. We’re ready to depart at your command.”

“Good. Tell the others to keep formation around the wagon once we start moving. I doubt we’ll run into trouble along the way, but better safe than sorry.” As much as they can be when they’re a fairly small group and only moderately armed for battle, at least. “...And drink some water while you’re at it. You don’t want to faint out here.”

The knight is dismissed to do as told, and Lloyd turns his attention to the three students who’d asked to come along. “We’ll keep several paces ahead of them, to make sure the road stays clear. Any objections?”

// next: @kingoftempests | @ingridbgalatea | @godsmercie - any of you can go!