#mistletoe mini: mitama

[nobilisseoblige]

verseandrhyme asked:

🎄 He is...the loud one of the eagles. She faintly remembers hearing his name, boldly declared by him himself, but she had not cared to remember it. Nor does she plan to. "Pardon me." She pipes up, hoping to interrupt whatever it is he is saying. "You are blocking the hallway. Could you kindly take whatever antics you are doing here elsewhere."

"Why is everyone whispering?"

there was no joke, nor punchline, nor build up, but the students scattered the moment he piped up. honestly! class wasn't even in session and there weren't any particular signs that people were studying in the hallway, so why was everyone so hushed? he canted his head one way, combing back his hair in confusion. "very well then! keep your secrets! but be rest assured, it would be particularly ignoble of you to be scheming right under my nose." he always felt particularly left out in these matters, but it bore no weight to him!

and as of late, Ferdinand could have sworn the volunteers around the academy were undermining his pride in some such way. if it was simply overlaying their own touches to the decorations, he would bear that no mind. however, was it necessary to go back and lay out mistletoe where he knew there weren't any? he knew no one really meant any harm, but did they even once consider that it was easy to preserve one's dignity if it was a task done alone, but once you involved another (let alone, that person's romantic quandaries), the situation became a lot more… delicate? even he had his fair share of bruising after all that.

"I am prone to suspecting there might be something afoot. you all wouldn't happen to know if there was intention behind all the mistletoe, would you?" raising his voice, Ferdinand folded his arms over his chest, tapping a finger on the side of his arm impatiently. "i'll have you know, that—"

a voice snapped him out of his reverie, pulling both of his feet back onto the ground. (if he was a kite, she tugged on the string, just so.)

he recognized her immediately—what, with the lovely pink locks and stars glimmering in her eyes, she was someone the gods certainly favored when they graced the world with love. she was, of course, not of their house, but Ferdinand knew that before long, she would perhaps be drawn to the allure that was the Black Eagles. After all, they had some of the most brilliant, most considerate, most— oh, wait, what exactly had she asked of him?

"yes, well, pardon me!" unshaken, but stirred. "they are not antics, and you'll have half the mind to listen to me if you—"

he was poised right between the hallway and an open lecture hall, talking and excusing himself as she made her way through. gesturing. postulating. the whole nine yards!

"annnnd— if you'll excuse me!" gently, he pressed both his hands on her shoulders, turning her away from the inner doorway. they circled back towards the hall, half-quartered turned, like a two-step dance with both parties unwilling. shifting eyes and quiet laughter dappled the room inside. there was a hint of red berries peeking from just behind the entryway. "you may have my hands after this, but you'll thank me later."

a slight pink brushed the tips of his ears.

@verseandrhyme

[nobilisseoblige]

he has not the wit of brevity. the v in Von Aegir could have stood for verbose, and no one would blink on the matter. however, as a feverish color bloomed on her cheeks, Ferdinand found that the illusion of choice had left him. there was only one real path left to take, and one real title to take upon himself. a fool, by any other name, is still a fool.

a frown split his face, as she formally indicted him a representative of his house. there's a split second where he wished to say something blithely ignorant (so you know of me then? to know me so well? a shining example sounds right as wind!) with a blaringly bright grin on his face. but that would be contrived, and painful now that everything had been laid out before him.

"If I have offended you, then allow me to bear the burden of making it up to you." he does not scorn her scoff, and does not sneer at her scathing review. in fact, her own tongue ran freely enough for the both of them. "you make a good point—in wronging you, I have also wrongfully represented my house. I acknowledge as much, and shall own my missteps…"

"but my house is not in the wrong here." staunchly, he put his foot down. though he folded like a paper ship, this was one matter he refused to dangle by the leash at. "I shall gladly be the object of your ire— but my colleagues should be dignified by their own actions."

it is, however, her second blush that struck squarely between the brows. in no time at all, his eyes widened like saucers, and every synapse lapsed one after the other. oh! he thought. oh.

he made a tight knot with his tongue. there was a notch in his eyebrows, as he took on more damage the more she dropped stars out of the sky. how prudent she was! to save him the grief and simply tear his ego into pieces!

I didn't mean it! (it didn't matter.) I hoped to preserve your dignity! (that hardly was the case now.) I so dearly wished to have gotten to know you better. (truth.)

so it was not a matter of pride, as she would have liked to have had him believe. nor was it a matter of preference. her flaring red cheeks were contagious, spreading up his face like vines. he saw now, that his words were crossing lines he didn't think possible. had he been making advances and denying advances with the same foul mouth? a kiss would have not made a difference.

glumly, he stepped to the side, thumping his chest once as an apology. "very well then." he bowed, deeply.

"after you."

It did not elicit three strikes, it necessitated them. Because Ferdinand was so out, he was off the mountain on which the monastery was built entirely.

The glare with which she had fixed him with morphs into something far more flat and unimpressed as he fumbles his way through an attempted apology. She is so used to the princes of Hoshido, both down to earth and boyish and charming. This pathetic attempt at mimicking that which comes naturally to others is all the more pathetic to watch in comparison.

"If there is no need for me to accept any apology of yours, I do wish you would have spared us both the trouble by keeping your words to yourself and allowing this to end with our mutual embarrassment."

Instead, the tongue ran freely, and so called into question the matter of intention vs. impact. Perhaps she would have given him a more lenient judgement if the impacts were not still ongoing.

"Do the actions of its star pupils not reflect the character of the house? Are you, a noble of Fodlan, not meant to be a shining example of the expectations of what a student of the Eagles can be?" Mitama scoffs. "How fortunate for you that these standards stop the moment you fumble. Should I dismiss every misstep, simply because it exists? Does the next blunder you make not count, simply because you did not mean it?"

Would she have preferred a kiss? Not necessarily. But she would have liked to be asked! Was it not a practice of nobles, constantly grabbing at hands and kissing them? Surely that would have sufficed?

"Oh, so you know my name! What a tragedy for such preparation to have lead to such a disappointing first encounter." She remembers his name starts with an F. She is not about to embarrass herself by misnaming him now.

Especially not as her cheeks go red again. She recoils. "Kindly keep your tongue where it belongs, thank you. Better yet, still it and spare us all from further oversteps."

[nobilisseoblige]

hold on!? and in what world would that elicit THREE strikes, dear narrator!?

he imagined a different reaction! had he been wrong? are fair maidens not intent on reserving their lips to people they love? okay. no, he was aware that some would approach this more liberally, but— he was shoved quite harshly off of her, hands immediately shooting up like the knights of Seiros had caught him midway through some heinous crime.

but he wasn't naughty, he swore on it!

would she have preferred something else? would she have preferred a kiss? but— (did she even know his name!?) it mattered not what he could have done, because he had slighted her by way of omission. "I'm sorry, no truly I am." he was. which was the worst part of this affair. "please, you are in no need to accept my apology, but know that I simply had no intention to wrong yo—"

he was left aghast, as she dragged the Black Eagles into the mud. oh Edelgard would have his head on a pike.

"hold on!? are we talking about the same house? please, i beg you spare my house your blanket opinions and simply lay judgement upon me." pleading, he folded his hands together as if to pray.

"should I assume that you would have preferred a kiss?" BZZZT. "would that have been less humiliating?" BZZZT. BZZZZT. "Mitama, please…"

presumptuous!

it was the first time he used her name, given that he had yet to formally introduce himself. wonderful. splendid. the holidays were not supposed to be some sordid affair, but he had walked into a scene with his gloves painted red.

"i assure you, if i overstepped your boundaries, i'd also have to offer up my tongue!"

The first strike against him is that he does not move out of her way as requested. He continues to stand in her path, blocking the way between her and her obligations. She cares not for the class itself, but her attendance has been rather poor of late due to far more interesting options. If she does not enter the room, it will cause problems for her that she does not wish to deal with.

The second strike against her comes in the form of hands that rest on her shoulders like heavy weights. So unexpected are they that Mitama cannot stop herself from jumping in his grasp. She follows his lead on stumbling legs, taking her place within the hall with confused eyes that glare up at him.

The third strike comes in the realization of just what he had abruptly funneled her away from. Ah. A display of an extremely public rejection.

Mitama's own cheeks turn red. Not with shame, but with fury. She had not wanted to participate in such a trivial and frivolous tradition anyway, but he did not need to turn her into some sort of spectacle like this!

"Oh, I imagine your hands would be a good start at some sort of penance." Mitama's hands rise up in turn to shove his off of her. Was it so much to ask for a peaceful morning at this school?

"Do the Black Eagles not have any sense of decorum with them? Are they so prideful that the idea of a potential insult to their pride is so unthinkable, that a display intended to humiliate their fellow students is preferable?"

Mitama scoffs. "A no would have sufficed. Thank you for the embarrassment! I look forward into being the joke of this following class."