#princessmacedon

[hermidetta]

"Bernie!" Only some few minutes after their return to reality, and after she's said her small piece to Pasithee, Maria runs back to her friend and sweeps her into a hug; she would spin her around, if she wasn't far too tiny to do so. As it is she sways back and forth a bit, practically buzzing with joy. "Oh, Bernie, she was! Mairenn was Pasithee -- you were right!"

When she settles, she gives the brilliant violet a small squeeze before stepping back, hands still gently lingering on the other girl's arms. Something tremendous shimmers in her eyes and quavers in her chest, a joy she hadn't ever expected to have and now struggles simply to hold... But she's grinning; even if there's something tender and fragile behind the narrow of her smile, she's grinning.

"...Thank you, Bernie. I brought you somewhere scary, but you always cared about me. About both of us." Linhardt -- she should check on him herself, after this. "About the hope I was chasing." Grin mellows to a smile, a soft-stitched arc with affection still bursting at its seams. "It means the world to me."

And then she giggles; and then she releases Bernie and throws out her arms; and then she steps back yet again and she spins, and she laughs, and when that grand bubble of joy pops she throws a wink and a playful grin over her shoulder.

"So, won't you please tell me what your favorite dessert is? Maybe your favorite tea? Hee hee! I already have more and more hopes! I hope that's okay!" Like how I hope to see you smile -- yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

"ah! maria!"  bernadetta's not all that strong, or tall, but when maria hugs her they both fit into each other's embrace just right. her cheer is just as infectious as her hope. before bernadetta realizes it she is swaying, too, a breathless little giggle on her lips as thin arms return maria's squeeze.

it was scary, wasn't it? something sheepish surfaces to the curl of her lips. if bernadetta had been tasked to name any of her own merits, she would not have passed as easily as she did on the feast. but maria thanks her. points out how she has cared—why else would she bawl over linhardt? and bernadetta had not been able to recognize any of it at all. to her it had been as easy as breathing, natural, and painfully unremarkable.

(yet maria thanks her for it. for being herself, somehow.)

it had been striking to bernadetta, the memory of maria in these same ruins some time ago, the way her eyes glimmered as she spoke almost breathlessly: i want to go. i want to find her.

how could anyone have denied her then? bernadetta could not dream of it even as they jumped into another one of pasithee's own making, could not dream of it even as maria held bernadetta through the village that terrified her senseless. (she had been so convinced that they were the feast.)

"no! i mean, um—thank you. i was just a big fat chicken."  her cheeks flush at the admission. hearing it aloud makes her feel even sillier.  "i didn't even know her name. or what she did. just that we were looking for an angry girl."

bernadetta hadn't even understood half the things written by that book. apparently she was a projectionist, and apparently she was friends with mairenn. apparently she was responsible for the distress call and apparently there was some villain named melanie(?) who was responsible for the chaos, instead of count varley who bernadetta had initially suspected of foul play. none of it made sense, and almost all of bernadetta didn't want it to. all she wanted was to crawl back under her rock and not have to know.

"and that you were there, and that i didn't want either of you to get hurt or go alone. so... e-even if you go somewhere scary again, i'll go with you! if we really have to."

but her hands mirror maria's in their gentle lingering. it's strange to bernadetta how hope could be this beautiful. to rob maria of it would be to extinguish the sun itself. when maria lets go, twirling and laughing, bernadetta nearly wants to join her. bernadetta wants to laugh, too. the wink catches her off guard, and she flushes with a stammer.

"m-my, my fav— peach sorbet?"  bernadetta blurts, stumbling after maria.  "and sweet bun trio. and albinean berry blend! wait, you have to tell me yours, too!"

one after another, these questions and hopes. they bloom and flourish and blossom all over again—yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

[heavy-draw]

And like she has found and been found by the others of their little group, Maria at last discovers -- well, who has she discovered? There had never been a chance to exchange names during everything that happened, but she would find it terribly sad if she never had a name to place to that resolute back.

"I'm glad to see you," Maria greets softly, offering a small wave. "Thank you for everything you did."

A pause; she clasps her hands behind her back, tilting her head with quiet curiosity. The woman's hair is a much less warm tone when not painted with firelight, but the way she carries herself is-- well, cool. And so is her outfit! The corners of her lips upturn.

"My name is Maria. What about you, Miss?"

Taking a seat against the cool wall of the bunker had been a welcome change of pace from the flaming, crumbling halls of Garreg Mach-- the sweat that caused her bangs to cling to her forehead made her want nothing more than to dunk her head into a cold sink of water, but such luxuries were never found on the battlefield. Instead, she opted for dragging a gloved hand through her disheveled hair, heaving a sigh. A familiar voice pulled her from her brief reverie, though, and violet eyes shot upwards to lock onto her comrade's face. The corners of her lips attempt to turn upwards into a smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything. "There's no need to thank me. It wasn't a battle we'd have won," Shamir responded in a nonchalant tone, yet nodding in thanks regardless. "Either way... I'm glad you're... well. Alive." "Shamir." She patted the spot next to her, offering the chance for the other woman to rest as well. "You look like you need the rest, no offense. I think we all do. How'd you make it over here?"

[nobilisseoblige]

With everything that has happened in a night, none among them can be faulted for the pall of dread cast over them. The soothing of panics, the finding of loved ones, and worse yet the failure to— to be bright is a choice one makes, and one Maria is not alone in.

There is another boy, albeit she does not know him and has only seen him in passing. Yet every time she has, there has been a sort of solidity about him. Steadfastness. (That was the impression of fleeting glimpses, at least.)

“Excuse me!” Is it the fourth or perhaps the fifth time that she stops him? A hand lingers by his elbow to bid him pause, herself half caught walking the other direction. Clear, rosy-hued eyes see him — again, at least for this moment. It isn’t much at all, but she passes him a small snack, the last sweet remnant of whatever she’d had on her person when this began.

“You’re doing great,” she says and means, a smile twinkling in her eyes. “I appreciate you. But don’t let me keep you, okay?��

And — she dares! — she dares to softly giggle as she turns back the way she was going.

he was aware of everyone and no one at once, as the whirl of adrenaline tightly unwinded every ounce of focus he had outward. towards the crowds of people that needed him, towards the crowds of people who didn't need him. he passed by a number of small make-shift encampments in the bunker, coming and going with whatever jugs of water or gauze was needed. it was now that he thought himself irresponsible, for not knowing how to heal nor knowing any sparing words that would compel his comrades to keep their hearts tight to their chests. but the least he can do was come in and out, un-mysterious, unbidden, until the world (whose guard was rightfully raised) was ready for him.

it is strange, when he took to counting heads like he would stars, he thought he saw the same face once and again. a star with soft red locks and the impression of gentleness in a field of trampled souls. Ferdinand let her sit in the corner of his thoughts for a while, the receding warmth coming in and out like a vision. they were both busy, both tied up in their own sort of outwardness that inertia carried them back and away without a word. and again. she stopped him a number of times, sharing gear or a slice of bread, or words he put faith in.

but on the fifth stop he stopped completely, letting the hand that bid him pause truly take him out of his reverie. the world stopped, dizzying feeling of doing too little and too much fell away to her bright, bright eyes. rose colored, in a way that reminded him of home. his heart started quietly, this time, less like clockwork and more like he was walking through a well-loved spring. "you're so kind to me." he said breathlessly, canting his head one way.

so kind.

"Miss, I…" his gloved hand met hers for a second, two little lights flickering off each other to keep the other going. "I appreciate…"

he perked up, shoulders up and fists in tight balls.

"I APPRECIATE YOU!"

he called out loudly, his voice reverberating throughout the camp. "I really, truly do!"

"........................wait! what's your name again!?"

[jasperblion]

{ ♕ — What does leading a ‘good’ life mean to your muse? Are they satisfied with the choices they make? !!

my life philosophy | still accepting!

One of the biggest topics I want to get around to with Alm (if it wasn’t obvious by my terrible lack of synonym choice on his dossier page) is his interaction with choices: both ones he went through as well as ones he must consider once the prophecy has run its course (...or has it?).

Alm’s path as a fighter and warrior comes naturally from his blood of the Rigelian emperor, though he is also being raised to fight and inevitably strike down his father for the new age. Still, even if this lifestyle was relatively forced upon him, he enjoys what he’s been taught and certainly takes it to heart. If he can consistently use the power he’s been given and commands to properly assist and protect the ones he loves, then he is living a good life.

I won’t give a one-by-one review of every potential choice that Alm has made or been forced to make and go over his approval, but just know that any that involves rescuing a life is one he does without regret. By comparison, the decisions that had him down his own blood, ones that he never had a say in, he far from approves of.

Yet still, if the outcome of all of his choices resulted in who he is today, a man prepared to carve a new age with a destined friend, then ultimately he can be satisfied. Room for improvement, most definitely, but satisfied.

[rafent]

She had been looking forward to this one since she had first conceived of just the right idea: a variety box of candies, to be offered up and judged worthy. So he had deigned to do with her much more modest offering earlier this year, his expression crinkled but not unkind.

And so she had gleefully risen to the challenge, plotting its arrangement and components in her hobby notebook for some preceding weeks until she had plotted and prepared it to perfection. In the center, a sampling of small baked goods — a square of lemon tart, a four-high stack of little cookies, the like; fit in the space between box and border like a saccharine frame, many piles of more longevous candies in their delicate paper cups, such as gummies, caramels, and even a couple handmade lollipops with bows.

(Make no mistake: the many remnants of her toils were thoroughly enjoyed!)

Cradled now with care in the ribbon-wrapped goodie box in her arms, the gift is deposited at Rafal’s door upon the realization she won’t be able to catch him. Atop it, a note with script so delicate and purposeful it fairly oozes mischief: Happy birthday, Rafal! Herein lies my offering, and with it my hope you will judge it worthy! 🌸

First a single cupcake from unknown benefactor, and now a banquet from one greater known. The second of unexpected deliveries at his door struck Rafal with a bell of surprise, carmine shaped by wide-eyed examination, and body frozen as ice born statue with the accompanying note between his hands.

"Offering. . ."

Such singular but extravagant wording. Worthy and wonderful wording. Fell Dragons and offerings composed no greater pair, as born to interlace as the gaps and fingers of two birth given hands. Gradlon though long extinct lived on today in the unwitting return to tradition; deities and sacrifices; children of Sombron and their worshipers. Candy, after all, was this godling's preferred oblation, and had his kingdom still stood, no doubt there would be legions more of its kind. The rightful property of the Fell Heir for his hard won glory, stood heads and shoulders over all other siblings.

Well. Rafal might dream.

"Offering." How long the dragon stood there absorbing the flowery contents of Maria's message, mumbling a single word on refrain, and eyeing its sugary bounty was impossible to say. A creature impervious to the crawl of a thousand years hardly felt the lesser weight of minutes. One so uncaring of the opinions of others scarcely felt the stares that lingered upon him in the hallway; all averted upon catching his prominent look of glee for seemingly no visible cause. How frightening! Student and faculty alike moved past him with over hasty strides.

After short eternity, at last he twitched with thoughtful expression.

"A worthy offering, indeed."

—and returned aside with the box in tow.

[yukyunotabibito]

{ �� — Does your muse believe people are innately good or innately bad? Why do they believe this? !!

Philosophy Headcanons | 1/? (Accepting)

Nasir leans towards innately bad, simply because he believes it's in the nature of people to do some bad things within their lifetime, while being good is more of a product of their nurture and their willingness to do good rather than it being something that can just happen.

That being said, Nasir is also absolutely a pessimist and has long learned that he cannot believe that the world is good and righteous. He's always surprised, and pleased, of course when people are good, but he does not believe it to be the default.

Why does he believe this? Idk, he's insane <3

[warpaway]

“Oh! There you are, Linhardt!” When Maria approaches, it’s with a bundle in arm: some folded stack of cloth and an orange on top of it, as well as an easygoing grin sprawled across her face. The moment she draws to a stop in front of them she offers the fruit.

“It’s not much,” she apologizes, because much is not something they have, “But I hope you like it! I can go grab something else if you don’t like oranges, though!” Soon enough she moves onto brushing dust from the cloth still held in her arms. “I wanted to say thank you! You did most of the healing out there, and I’m really grateful. Thank you, Linhardt.”

There’s no question in her mind it would have been worse without them around — at the very least, she’s sure she would be much less able to run around as she is now without their help. She holds up the cloth; whether or not it was a blanket before, it is now.

“And… here! You seemed really tired before.” A smile, earnest and bright. “Hee hee… get some rest!”

when he hears his name, he's in the middle of sketching the crest of blaiddyd into his notebook. he has all the crests memorized, of course, but never before has this one interested him so severely. he needs a nice picture on the page before he interviews lambert.

"maria," they greet her with a smile. with a distraction, they're much more chipper, and it shows on their face.

"thank you so much," he says, accepting her gifts. "you're right - i fell asleep once or twice on my feet out there. don't tell anyone, eh?"

linhardt closes his notebook and takes both, tucking both the 'blanket' and notebook under his arm in order to begin unpeeling the orange. he's not sure if he's actually hungry, but he also isn't sure the last time he ate, so certainly it can't hurt anything.

"i appreciate this, but it feels a little undeserved," they continue, digging their fingers into the orange's flesh to remove a slice. "you see, i'm not much of a fighter at all, anyway... so it was always going to come down to me healing you all. it was the least i can do. you certainly did a number on those monstrosities - that, i feel is far more important."

[stellalimned]

"Oh! Limstella?" It somehow feels a surprise to see them in this chaos -- this in spite of their second meeting being nothing but. Something about their quiet, orderly appearance, maybe? The idea cracks a small smile as the little princess approaches them without a second thought.

"Are you doing alright?" She remembers how they promised to look out for her; remembers the sea of people fleeing the attack, and gingerly takes their hand. "Tell me if you're hurt, okay?" Her grin pairs with upturned brow, tone turning light and playful, but not enough to douse her concern. "You have to!"

A presence approaches, heralded by familiar sun-bright quintessence and red hair, calling out my name. I turn to find Maria approaching me with an inquiry on my functioning and am struck with a sense of... something, deeply positive, at the sight of her standing before me looking little worse for wear. I had not been able to find her during the battle and could only assume that either she had joined a different group or else... fallen. To be reunited with her is a good thing, indicative perhaps of the success of the academy's next goals, whether they be pinpointing the enemy that attacked us and delivering retribution or returning to take back the monastery. Capable people like her are imperative for the oncoming campaign, and... it would be unacceptable and pointless, for her to be snuffed out.

She takes my hand, imploring me to tell her if I am damaged. I nod in acquiescence. "I will report so to the best of my abilities. At the moment, I have just undergone repairs thanks to one of the healers, so I have no current need for such at the moment." I pause, then continue, "The same is extended to you. I do not possess healing capabilities at the moment, but should you require it, I will endeavor to obtain you a vulnerary or a healer's assistance as swiftly as possible." After a moment, I reach out and pat her head. This is considered a gesture of reassurance among humans, is it not?

[hresvelged]

It is one thing to believe in someone; it is another thing to worry anyway, and Maria always does. They are as much the same thing as they are separate in her mind: both of them aspects of what it is to care for someone, yet both worthy of their own existence, especially in a time like this.

So just as she believes that Edelgard of all people can and will persevere, so too does she worry anyway, because she cares.

Lips settle into a smile when she finds her, faint but warm, shoulders dipping slightly with another dose of relief.

“I knew you’d be here,” a ghost of a laugh separating each half of the sentence, “But I’m still really glad to see you, Edelgard.”

"As am I to you, Maria."

While she cannot view the ruckus from where they stand, she knows its there— Knows that the monastery is colored with reds and browns. Edelgard can so easily envision papers tossed across the floor and quills shattered in two. It was a place of peace for many, even if she herself only shared the sentiment solely due to the people she has met there.

Maria is one of them.

"Are you well? .. As decent as you can be, I suppose." Her words linger with silence, untying one of her purple hair ribbons as she fixes back into its proper placement. She can tell that her words are different than usual; kind as ever, yet airier to befit the befalling setting so many now find themselves stuffed into.

She decides to take a step forward, lips lined straight and eyes forward. The hues lay heavy, but the resolve is firm. "I've been meaning to tell you something. This may sound sudden, but it's best I speak it while it's on my mind." An intentional pause. "I value the time we've spent together. I hope you know this."

[reddragonprincess]

"Wow!" Hands clasp together in absolute, unmitigated delight, tucked beneath her chin, rosy eyes set all a-sparkle. She has always known that her sister is wonderful and radiant, of course, but it is nonetheless a joy to see her shine off the battlefield. "Minerva, you look amazing today!"

Unpinning her brooch from her sash, she holds up her black feather, parted now from its two golden companions... achingly familiar, that, but still she smiles as she holds it up.

"Did you know? If you meet lots of people and trade-- decorations, this year!-- then they'll send you home with a treat! Oh, Sister, you'll trade with me, won't you? Please?" After all, though she keeps the heart of the wish to herself, she has long dreamed of sharing these festive, joyous celebrations with her siblings -- brother and sister both. The stamp cards and vines of yesteryear remain preciously held in her box of treasures; this memory, too, she will cherish.

The sound of her voice was unmistakable –soft, a bit chirpy and unbelievably strong. Minerva knew it was her and as she turned to face her, she was surprised to see her little sister in a long dress, actually making her seem older than she actually was and remarkably beautiful, but that was already known by the red-haired Macedon princess. She bowed her head, sketched a smile and she caressed Maria's cheek with the back of her index finger, catching the enthusiasm of her tiny body.

“You look wonderful, like you always do, my little one” she softened her tone, observing the brooch in her hands: the black feather, a very curious combination for her, but in some way, it actually fit her quite well. She listened to her request and with a murmured laugh, she gently unhook the string of pearls from her dress, inspecting it for a short moment, before turning her gaze to Maria.

“How could I say no to you?” she chuckled with a soft smirk upon her lips, handing over the brooch with care and placing a hand over hers. “Here, I’m sure you already met so many people from the monastery” she nodded, leaving her hand rest for a little longer, “Your deserved treat will come very soon!” she teased her with  mocking expression, noticing a familiar figure looming around the dance area.

“Have you seen Michalis too?”

[sereneshymn]

Oblivious to the psychic damage her old comrade turned competitor might take from a certain other Macedonian, Maria happily waves as she approaches the man, lemonade in hand.

“Sir Rafiel!” He was part of the faculty, wasn’t he? Or… wasn’t he? She turns the title over on her tongue, briefly contemplating forms of address before abandoning the thought altogether. What matters is that she recognizes him, and recognizes the color of his bandana.

“Hee hee… here, take this! It’s light and refreshing — it reminds me of you!” Smiling, she passes the drink into his hands. “And you’re on the… sheep team, aren’t you?” A finger raises to tap her own blue bandana, tied into a bow on her head. “We’re not teammates this time, but you and my brother are! He’s kind of grouchy, but he’s really strong! So…” Another laugh. “…good luck! I’m rooting for all of us!”

A little star twinkles in the corner of his mind, and before he even turns his face towards her fully, it is already adorned with a warm smile ready to greet her. Amidst this confusion born of an unfamiliar situation, few comforts offer him as much solace as the knowledge that he is not alone in it all.

"Little Maria," he greets, light laughter bubbling behind his words. "Please, just call me Rafiel. There is no need to be so formal with me - I'm just an infirmary helper. I'd like it if you could think of me as little more than a friend."

The drink she offers him is accepted with gratitude and a smile brighter still than it was a moment ago. "That does seem to be the case," he says. He still doesn't quite understand what is going on, so the words lack confidence behind them, but his expression remains calm and serene. "Your brother, you say? I will be glad to become acquainted with him. No worries about the character - I have some experience in this field." Well, that's what he says, anyway. The exactly nature of this experience he chooses not to go into.

Her laugh is joined by his, for friendship is one of life's greatest joys and treasures that he always wishes to partake in together with others. "Haha, I will do my best. Good luck to you and your team too, of course! I'll be cheering for you."

[hermidetta]

It's a bit harder to pick a gift when you want to know someone, but don't know them so well yet -- a problem she looks forward to solving in the future! Today, however, she knocks gently on Bernadetta's door, grinning on the other side of it.

"Hi, Bernie!" Maria greets, her voice in the shape of a smile. "I have a present for you!"

It's a bouquet of flowers in a white, thin-necked vase, naturally. But the choice of flowers itself is not as classic: yellow tulips and white heather stretch tall enough that Maria peeks from the side and not over the array, not too unlike the hidden, true star of the present: a long-limbed little teddy bear, purple in hue but with sunflowers embroidered on his tummy. In fact, he even seems to have little flowers on his crown as well... He wraps his arms around the neck of the vase like a squishy soft ribbon, paws discreetly held together by means of beans made of button and loop.

"Happy birthday! Hee hee... here, these are for you!" Gingerly, she passes the present over. "I know they're supposed to be red, but--" A laugh bubbles up. "I really wanted to give you these instead!" Well wishes, as ever, and sunshine in her smile. All the lovely things Maria thinks of her. Her eyes crinkle at their corners, sparkling as she lifts a conspiratorial finger to her lips. "And I'll make you some sweet buns later, if you want them! Look forward to it, okay? Heeheehee!"

⠀ ⚘ birthdaydetta 2k24 ♡ ⠀

even the shrinking violet, who loves the shade, turns its head toward dappling sunlight. maria's voice calls bernadetta through the door, and the latter's nose pops out from a rather familiar book. she slips a pressed flower on her current page, shuts it, and bounces off of her bed to gravitate to the front entrance. the door shies open, more than a mere crack, but just enough for the entirety of her figure to fit through it—curved petals of a bud mid-bloom.

"oh, maria! h-hi..."  her gaze falls to the vase.

well wishes. good luck. friendship, new beginnings. her ashen eyes widen at the bright arrangement, a bundle of joy cinched by a bear and bottleneck.

and maybe it is all coincidence—maybe there is no particular message behind the charming stalks of yellow tulips and white heather beyond 'happy birthday', but even that much is enough to melt hearts on the spot. sunflowers, too, from a sunflower herself.

"for me?"  bernadetta chirps, albeit with lingering sheepishness, the uncertainty she can never seem to truly shed. hands accept the gift without protest, though, her delight made evident through the faint flush in cheeks and gentle twitch of a touched smile.  "thank you! i like flowers. any color, as long as they're not poisonous! well—poisonous ones are neat, too, just not up close."

oops, she's rambling. there's a tiny yelp of realization before her lips pinch together, but luckily maria doesn't seem to mind. somehow, despite being in bernadetta's company, she never seems to mind. she even promises sweet buns, and the way bernadetta's face brightens is more than enough answer to that.

"r-really? yay! i will!"  she can't help but blurt, hugging her adorable bear and vase—mindful of the flowers, of course, though the tips of the petals tickle her chin. it widens her grin.  "maria, you're always so nice to me. um, if you want... only if you want. we can share the sweet buns together. a-and talk more about books?"

[renaisguy]

Perched on the steps leading into the hut that will be her temporary home, Maria perks up as another weasel makes their way over. She's greeted a couple of them already, but this one seems to be coming straight for the very same hut -- one of her new roommates, maybe?

"Hello!" She leans forward, bracing her palms against her chosen perch. "--you're a weasel too, aren't you? Hee hee!" The blue bandana marks him as such, at least, and she hops to her feet, waving as she hops onto the ground and out of his way. "My name's Maria! I think we're roommates!"

"Hello!" He waves back. "I'm Forde, nice to meet you." So this is his final roommate, huh? She's... younger than he expected. (By now he really should know better, this is a school trip after all).

"Or maybe I should say... it's weasel nice to meet you." Not the best pun in the world, but it's hard to come up with weasel puns at short notice. If he were on another team... it'd be stoatally different.

"I settled in earlier, took one of the lower bunks. Hope that's alright." He leans against the railing of the steps for a moment. "Lovely place, isn't it? I've already found three good nap spots!" He chuckles. "So if you ever want the room to yourself for a bit, just let me know, ok?"

[frauleindermorgen]

@princessmacedon sent:

[ Forestberry Jamwich ] "Oh, Micaiah!" It has been such a long time since they last spoke, but Maria's eyes light up in an instant at the sight of her. A walk hastens into a trot, and she lands at her side soon after, separating the cleanly cut halves of her snack. A few new bracelets dangle from her wrist as she shifts one half up for Micaiah to take, if she wishes. "Do you want to split this with me? Hee hee, I'm getting a little full... but I really wanted to try it!" Raising her half of her sandwich to her mouth, she takes a small bite, her gaze turning toward her wrist as she chews. A beat passes, and then she gently taps one of the bracelets with her fingertip.

"I got this one for Aphie," she explains with a smile soft upon her face. I bet she'd be causing so much trouble. I wish I could have given her a crepe. I think she'd have really liked it here. -- all thoughts she leaves unspoken; the ball is meant to be enjoyed, and she still has mischief to get into on someone's behalf. "It's pretty, isn't it? Hee hee... and the sandwich -- oh, jamwich! -- is tasty too!"

Maria's confident steps reminds her of the first time they met, before that mission. They have not spoken of it since, and she has not at all spoken of her second meeting with Aphea — and she thinks for the first time, perhaps she can share in Maria's bravery and do so, one day.

Today and in the now she takes the half of the sandwich offered to her, saying she would of course love to; deftly, she splits it in two and offers it back to Maria; "oh," she says covering her mouth, "it is quite good isn't it! I wonder what is in the jam. Perhaps I can try and make my own?"

Maria's pure thoughts of Aphie chorus around her even without words, and Micaiah takes a moment to really examine the bracelet the princess has indicated. "I think... that's a wonderful idea." She looks at her own accessories - just the standard brooches given out to and for others at the ball but her eyes stay on the black and a white feather, and she thinks of all the other plumage of birds. The animals the Aphie in the desert, and Aphie in the cave never got to see.

"I think I will make her something too. A bracelet of feathers. There are so many pretty birds around here; after all, and I am always finding fallen ones on my walks. Would you like to come with me on one Maria? We can eat jam sandwiches and search for feathers together."

[godofclosure]

From a distance, Maria sees someone she hadn't expected to see: Miss Embla, who had seemed to disdain most things light and bright and especially festive in the little time she had known her. Which made her presence here all the more curious, and especially worrying. What was Happyland so far if not a surfeit of light, bright, and festive?

So she circles around, returning a few minutes later with a simple flask of water. The heat and sunshine could be brutal, especially for those less accustomed to it.

"Hi, Miss Embla!" Maria smiles as she approaches, but keeps the exuberance of her voice to a gentle minimum, holding out the glass for the other to take. "It's pretty bright out here, huh? Here's some water, just in case."

The girl from the illusion… Maria, she believes it was? Strange, she can never seem to recall the name of mortals, nor does she ever care to, and yet… The sun must truly be getting to her.

Embla had of course noticed her amongst the crowd (as well as how she unfortunately wears a color different from her own this time, disappointingly), but she hadn’t expected she to be noticed. Or approached, for that matter. And to be given an offering no less, on such a thoughtful premise…

“Hmph. Do not worry yourself over me. I am fine.” Slightly-less-clawed hand takes the glass, only a slight hesitation in it, for once. This mortal doesn’t strike her as the type to poison such a thing as water. When was the last time she had water, anyway? Yesterday? A week ago? Centuries ago? Time is a blur.

“I should hope you have been… ‘hydrating’ as well. It would be inconvenient to your team if you were to pass out. Or worse.” It feels odd, advocating against ill will befalling her ‘enemies’. By all accounts, she should want them to pass out, or away. It would make winning easier, should their numbers thin. Still, she would prefer it happen to another, instead of her water source.

[rafent]

Steps so often soft are made now with the crisp punctuation of heel to stone, a pace granted by purpose. Maria is not wholly harried, never crossing the line from a trot to a run, but certainly there is room to slow down as she approaches, a hand hovering near proud dragon’s elbow.

“Rafal?” A gentle insistence in her voice, the way healers have learned to do. Still she pauses just long enough to be assured that he himself endures. “Griss and I were part of the same patrol. He’s okay! He’s okay, but I think he was poisoned during a fight. It seems like it’s already passed, but keep an eye out, okay?”

Fingers interlace and lock behind her back, a smile faintly offered, though this with a note of apology.

“That’s all. I just thought you would want to know.”

If Rafal was one who belonged in the thick of battle, believing it his best service to others, so too did he seek after it for his own ends.

Every cask must have a body; only a body would confirm one concretely dead or alive. The closer he carved his war path to the monastery, the higher his chance of discovering those unaccounted. Whether to confirm them living or expired, all would be with his own two eyes most of all. And more: busy motions reserved him above all else, even above the darkness gnawing at him outside of it. What she alright? Was he alright? Was this or that person alright? Rafal did not think of these, could not afford to. But as the need for his might extinguished to newly brought end, those insidious, dragon-eating questions resumed. Returned.

Commanding, equally placed strides carried him forward but in them existed no feeling - merely rote, mind elsewhere, giving way to rare and startled response. Trapped in his own mind then whisked from it, he flinched at the feathery gust of air at his elbow. Started, relaxed, understood all in orderly fashion as Maria registered.

"Honestly. How is it that you manage to manifest at the precise moment I think of you?" Between the humiliating coincidence of worry and a timely report which absolved it, the dragon unloosed exasperated sigh with both greeting and scolding alike. Straightened, ultimately, for the silent relief of her words. ". . .Never the mind. You spoke of Griss and sharing his patrol? Then your report is candid. You have my gratitude. I am pleased to hear he has not come to the worst, poison or not."

Timely pause, cleared throat: "Pleased but not worried, if you should be wondering."

Irony did not escape him, that lord and knight should grapple with selfsame struggle of poison throughout their battles, both mended and no further beleaguered. That same affliction set his eyes upon Maria closely, a long moment of scrutiny to deliver his satisfaction. An embarrassed swap of interests thereafter.

"You appear in good condition. I am pleased for that also."

Rafal gazed pointedly at barren walls. They were very ugly but very spotless walls.