#redmessenger

[elusivia]

9. A photographic memory

The snowcapped mountains near his village were beautiful, silhouettes etched into his mind as permanently as his own name.

Last time he'd seen them up close had been when he'd left for good, leaving nothing but soured memories snd corpses. When he closed his eyes he could still see the mountains and their forests, as if they were waiting for him to come back to trails he'd never hike again, the hidden spots only he'd known lost.

Zelkov sketched it once in awhile, the places around his old home, but never the village itself, never the view from above, never looking back.

Every time after he thought too hard about home, seeing it in his dreams, he'd get rid of the artwork as soon as he could, only to draw or paint the landscape of home sometime again, pursuing closure he'd never fully have.

It was frozen in place. Not living, not dead. Beautiful, bitter, and ultimately cold.

[viridescent-lance]

Forsyth is a passionate man, but Lukas never imagined he could be so consumed by fury that he would viciously assault someone. It’s uncharacteristic of the knight, so much so that he wondered if the Elementals had a hand in this.

The morning after the ball, Lukas approaches Forsyth, a frown already set on his face. “About last night. With that man you hit. Was that of your own accord? …If so, you should know better. You recall what happens when I lose myself—I lost the trust of many comrades in the Deliverance, and they deserted us in an hour of need. I don’t want to see you in that same position, my friend. Don’t repeat my mistakes.”

Of all the people for Forsyth's encounter with Griss to get back to, it had to be Lukas. He was already well aware that his behavior was shameful, even if Griss had been terrorizing the party. He should have handled the situation in a mature manner, perhaps even consulting the elementals and asking if they had some sort of detention center. Instead, he'd struck what onlookers would interpret as a helpless man, if they did not know the context of what he had done that night.

"I...wish I could tell you that I was goaded on by the spirits. That vile man, certainly, but it was entirely my own decision. The fault lies with my own poor temper." Forsyth grits his teeth, finding it difficult to look Lukas in the eye. He feels a mixture of emotions bubble up in him, and the mention of that miserable lord Lukas had struck feeds the fire of righteousness far easier than it does the haze of shame. "I still do not begrudge you for your actions there. It was prejudice and cowardice that led those soldiers to take the opposing side. And Griss...he was assaulting individuals at the ball, accosting even our own Lady Celica."

"...that is not to excuse my own actions. While his behavior was unacceptable and required disciplinary action, I took matters too far, in my own hands." It's hard to truly accept that what Forsyth had done was wrong, he realizes. He'd rehearsed repeatedly for an encounter such as this, drilling it into his head that this is not what a proper knight does. But the feeling at the time was that of frustration, of the thought that if no one does anything, that cruel man will continue to run free and without accountability. But had he really fixed matters, or simply done what felt right? Being in the presence of Lukas forces Forsyth to think about these things in a much deeper way. "Thank you, Lukas. I value your insight dearly."

"...I would keep an eye on the man, Griss, however." Forsyth shakes his head, crossing his arms as he attempts to keep himself level. "His behavior around Lady Celica is most concerning, and his violent actions put multiple students and staff alike at risk. We should deal with this in more official channels, and I've likely made it more difficult to do so, but...ugh. You're right, Lukas. I apologize for making matters worse."

[justices-blade]

18. A memory they’d love to change

✧ meme-ories! | closed :)

The sound of a paper bag falling in an alley. A dead-end nook, awkwardly shaped, sculpted further by old crates, now smashed and overturned. A dingy hammock dangles from one end.

Why is it empty.

"Finch?" One step, then another. Hands pull a crate upright, only to find it empty. "I brought lunch."

Silence. The torn hammock sways in the spring breeze. But that's fine: They're good at hide-and-seek. Took to it even better when those Crimean freaks got into Nevassa. All the better to use against those Begnion dogs prowling every main street. They don't even want to touch commoners half the time if it isn't to push 'em around.

So no way they got into a dingy little alley like theirs. Lips tug into a frown, pushing past the wreckage to the hole in the wall, poking his head under a tarp into the reoccupied shell of a house.

"Oi! Ollie-ollie oxenfree!" He steps in to push another crate aside, nothing spilling out save two old waterskins. The odd shape under another tarp doesn't greet the world with a mop of brown hair and a gap-toothed smile, just their misshapen leather ball and a spare cushion of hay. Another tarp, another miss. He stops and listens, for raspy breathing, for quiet giggling.

Nothing. A kick to another crate. It splinters further.

"Finch! It's me. This really isn't funny."

The words echo off wood and stone. Has his voice always been so loud?

"Finch!"

So why isn't it loud enough?

"I got the flaky pastries! Your favorite! They're still warm, and if you don't come out right now, you big lug, I'll eat it all myself!"

The words are steady, but the hands fumble the tarp back out. Wind and sunlight hits skin again, but the silence doesn't change. Grey eyes turn upwards, towards the roofs, towards the debris, towards the other side of the walls. Finch would have never managed to scale much of anything in his state, was the slower of the two even when he wasn't sick as a dog. Still, shaking hands grasp for anything, anything: Clamber up to the rooftops, feet a-skittering along crumbling tiling, peering down for anything, anything —

Anything that isn't a wake of debris. It's all just debris. No sign of a charge, a brother, of Finch. Why had he even left that morning? How many hours was he even away? The fabric of the hammock is long-cold, even in temperate spring. Armored footfalls hammer in the distance, a new constant made stark in the absence of another.

"You little twerp!" He yells, anyways, carelessly sending slate to break against cobblestone. "Who said you can make camp on your own?"

A leap, diagonal, wind at his back, through his hair, dingy scabbard hitting his thigh painfully as he lands. "When I get my hands on you, it'll be over for you!" Tile changes to wood, then tile, then wood again. "I'm captain this time," he cries, voice choked by the sun in his eyes. "so I'm gonna tickle you so bad you throw up, and, and —"

A crack. There is something beneath his feet, and then there is nothing. Rotten wood splinters with a cacophonous crash, and Edward falls with it in abrupt silence. Dust rises in the emptiness of another house left unattended, stinging his eyes, wrapping 'round his throat. It's just the dust. Finch is fine. Finch is smart. Finch probably juked 'em. He's slippery like that.

"So come back!"

Only the walls to hear him. A fist pounds, wood creaks, voice breaks into air, barely over a whisper.

"... We haven't even decided on dinner yet."

[beholdenning]

Lukas couldn't help but feel left out whenever he saw the others communicate with Denning with hand gestures. Despite all the people who travel through the Valley Approach, the culture itself has always been on the conservative side, never quick to accept new ideas or ways of being. Signs were used in patrols, not casual conversation. Anyone who couldn't use their words would easily find themselves left behind and forgotten...

Lukas waves Denning over. He refuses to let the language barrier come between him and someone who's proven themselves to be a steadfast, reliable ally. His grasp on signs is rough, just cobbled together from what he's observed from the others, but he still tries.

"You did very well, Denning. Thank you for all of your help." His hands don't quite capture the message, 'You were good. Very strong. Thank you.' "I hope it's not too much to ask, but... would you be able to teach me about your sign language?" 'Help. Teach me to speak with hands.' "I teach speech classes. How to talk to other people and communicate what you want to say. I think this sort of thing would be valuable for the other students to learn." 'Teach my talking class. They need help and they are happy to be taught.

If anything, Lukas hopes the genuine smile on his face conveys how grateful he is for Denning's help in these battles.

Many of his kin are unthinking, unspeaking; There is no need for either when they all know the same strategies, have the same directives, when they are all bound so by their duty. One falls into step where the other has fallen, marching forth like clockwork, as soldiers that only exist as ideals, as simulated pieces upon a board.

Humanity is a double-edged blade, in that way. It is both the weakness and strength they noticed in the students, the failings and the surprising points where they excelled, struggling against impossible odds. Perhaps it was merely the miracle of their stage. Perhaps...

... He would have to fight by them more often to be sure. But when the man with hair of russet-red waves him over, Denning is sure of one thing; That this man had not escaped their scrutiny for want of competence or skill, but because those who are most skilled, most steady, most integral to the group, oft do not fall into notice until they are struck down. Each time, their scattering formation was due to this man's fall.

Yes, he is steady and true, like a rock, like arrow-flight on a windstill day. The morph trots to him after a brief pause, hands by his sides, not expecting three of their number to know sign; And is surprised when he does, even if it is halting, uncertain not like one taught or one remembering, but one who is improvising. Golden eyes widen the barest of fractions, before Denning's hands come up to rest in idle, ready to give a reply...

The compliments roll of him like water from swan-feathers, though the smile is noted, but the request surprises him; Not only to teach one, but teach many...? The morph, knight, Instructor, as Nanna had dubbed him, had tried to fulfill that role once, and though the girl was, is satisfied, he is not. Teaching when he is meant to learn; It is an experience not unlike telling a cat to sit and roll over, or a dog to leap from height and land unharmed.

Still, it is hardly a contemplation. Would you and Teach are at odds — One a request, the other a command. Still, both ring the same to the morph's mind, and the word need is a potent one, indeed, so they nod in affirmative, moving their hands slowly that he may parse;

'if you wish it, i will.' Then, a pause. 'you know my name. may i know yours?'

[nagaficat]

🍪

Lukas is pretty sure Deirdre is married... he thinks... so his brows furrow quizzically as she holds one end in her mouth, instead of just handing one over like he expected. "Ah... forgive my rudeness, but what are you doing?" (we don't have pocky in valentia sorry boo)

"It is a game!" Deirdre attempts to explain with the cookie still between her lips. That does not work as well as she had hoped and she plucks it out just for a moment to properly explain the rules. "It is all the rage with the students right now and I thought it might be fun to try as well. I hold one end in my mouth like this and you simply just eat the cookie. If you cannot finish it, I win!"

She smiles brightly at him and gives the Pocky stick a little waggle. "Will you play with me, Sir Knight?"

[aimlessarchery]

a kiss against the neck which feels more like a bite,  teeth bruising skin 

("Ah, pardon me." Lukas got a little too excited. Somehow he doubts Python would accept an apology for this sort of thing here and now, but these are uncharted waters. He lays a kiss over the bite to soothe any pain.)

For one who claims to lack fire in these sorts of endeavors, Lukas sure is hot under the collar. Under Python's collar, specifically. The one that's been popped open to provide space for his friend to explore to his heart's content. Fingers curl tightly in short red tresses at the unexpected bite, a hiss escaping through his teeth with his sharp intake of breath. The exhale is slower, wavering in a way that dances between a sigh and a soft laugh. "Such a gentleman…" His hand uncurls to card gently through Lukas's hair. "You're more than pardoned, good sir." The laughter is more clear in his voice now, warmed by their closeness. "By all means, let it all out. My shirts've got high collars for a reason."

[enarmor]

a kiss after treating a wound 

(“Since you would have come up empty handed otherwise. Though I recognize I’m not your type.” With a roll of his eyes, he continues, “You seem to prefer women who will have little patience for a scoundrel such as yourself.”)

"Ah... Your affection bandages the wound of my heart!"

Pucker-up! Sain's not about to say no to a free smooch, and so when Lukas gives him the opportunity he takes it with pride. The knights kiss (as knights should) and Sain, being the man he is, reads far too into it. He slings his hand round Lukas' shoulder, resting the pads of his fingers against the back of his neck. If such an act could buy him even a few moments with another's lips, he'd take it; he's desperate.

"Though your words ring true, Sir Lukas," he continues, his eyes simmering down from the daze of passion from just moments prior, "it is the duty of knights to fall for wonderous women, is it not? Why, practice chasing skirts was almost as important as lancefaire or riding."

It's true, for Sain at least. Growing up his father was so concerned with drilling the forms of a proper warrior into him that he neglected to teach Sain how to feel and love. With figures like Yogi and rotten Lundgren to model his behavior off of, the Lycian learned young that womanizing was to be his destiny.

No knightly order is perfect. Sain is living proof of that fact.

But Lukas and the compassion he shows for Sain's dying heart nearly move him to tears. He has to fight to stop a silly smile from overtaking his shocked expression, and even then, some semblance of sheepishness manages to pull through.

Perhaps, had he more men like the Valentian to teach him right from wrong, he might've turned out differently.

[ashenprofessor]

25. A birthday memory

Whilst growing up on the road, birthday's were just another day rather than a chance for a big celebration. Perhaps if close to a town, their father might be able to scrounge a small cake for them to share with a special feast but if busy if was often postponed for another time.

Not that Byleth ever minded, they knew their father loved them and didn't feel like they missed out. There was usually a small gift ready for them to open in the morning when the awoke. Some trinket or a new weapon, then Jeralt would cook them their favourite food for breakfast.

The best birthdays were when they weren't working and Jeralt would spend the day with them. Take them hunting or some local event in town. One year there was a fair close by he took them too. Wide eyed, Byleth got to watch a spectacle of fire eaters and tumblers putting on a show. The day had concluded with a firework display and they'd sat on their father's shoulders staring up at the bright colours lighting up the night sky.

[duskofendflame]

( doubt )

More Memories (still accepting)

“You want to know when I was not believed as a child…? Haha, do you want the short answer or the long one?” The short answer was simple, clearly no one - or at least not the adults - had not believed in you, not your words or your abilities. Why else would you have been confined to the Northern Fortress? If your - no he wasn’t anything to you, he was not your father. If Garon had believed you were capable, you were strong, you would not have spent your childhood in that place. Though, you supposed that you knew that it was a bit more complicated than that now, but even knowing the truth, it was hard to admit.

“The simple answer is that… I was never believed as child. I won’t burden your heart with how things really were. I’m sorry that I don’t have a better answer.”

[optimismxmagicism]

Ewan at that point was still facing the other way, away from Lukas. His small frame trembling ever so slightly. With it being just a game, he hated that it affected him. But he was still upset. Still sad. Still, he didn’t want anyone to see him sad, ever. So when the older man approached him, he turned around and showed his best smile.

“Hiya, I’m Ewan! Don’t worry about me, I’m perfectly fine!” He said with a practiced kind of cheer. He had his 5 minutes of sadness, and no more than that. He had to convince his new opponent… no, his new friend, to go with Ally too.

“I just got a little unlucky, I’m sure the professor was just up to one of his tricks. But that’s okay!” While his tone matched his expression, there was just that little genuine twinkle of carefree joy missing. “I’ll be picking Ally again this round, so.. please, pick Ally too!” He genuinely asked, his voice slightly unsteady as he said “please”. He really didn’t want to be eliminated from the game… but he didn’t want to betray anybody either, so the best chance he had was appealing to Lukas, who seemed to be trustworthy enough.

"there are moments when a single snail can make the world go extinct. you are that solitary snail."

@eagerfutureflame witch's accord round 2!

With two more candies in his total, Lukas finds himself quite pleased with how things are turning out for him. Forsyth kept his word as promised, but it looks like a handful of pairs that haven't been truthful. For as many people walked away from the last round with an early lead, their victims barely hold onto their last piece.

The young boy here is one of them: his partner last round walked away with Betray on his bracelet, while this one still bears Ally. The same decision as Lukas, but with the opposite outcome.

In the younger man's shoes, Allying would simply not be an option this round. Lukas frowns as he approaches his new partner, concerned. "My apologies for the poor outcome last round... are you alright? My name is Lukas, by the way."

[viridescent-lance]

“I have a gift for you. I thought you would appreciate a taste of home after being away for so long.” With Forsyth’s penchant for sweets, it was easy for Lukas to find a host of treats that would keep on the long trip here. He gifts a generous care package filled to the brim with Zofian specialities: a jar of dark honey, sweet fruit preserves from this year’s harvest, and a bottle of fine wine. “I hope it’s to your liking. Has Fódlan treated you well so far?”

"Oh, Lukas, you didn't need to go to such lengths! This is absolutely wonderful." Forsyth feels excitement building in his chest, at the sweets and the presence of of his dear friend. Oh, how he has missed him! "I'd only heard you were coming but a day before your arrival, so my own gift feels lacking in return."

Lukas is one of Forsyth's closest friends, a stalwart and thoughtful man he cherishes deeply. They served in the knights at the capital together, after the war in which they met and bonded. Forsyth found comfort in the familiarity of Lukas' dulcet voice and reliable companionship, especially when Python spurned knighthood and chose to strike out on his own.

"Indeed, Fódlan is a fine nation. We've certainly had a share of trouble, but the students, faculty, and general citizenry are of good heart and character." He does not wish to worry Lukas with the details of exactly what trouble they have faced, and the perils he has fallen prey to, not at this moment. For now, this is a reunion most warm. "Can you believe it? Python, a professor? I'll say, for you to take up the profession of teaching would be entirely believable, but him...I've half a mind to start teaching some classes myself, just to keep him in line!"

Forsyth laughs, a hearty chuckle that rumbles through his whole body. He claps Lukas on the back, pulling the man into a hug. "It's good to see you again, Lukas. I hope Garreg Mach has offered you as warm a welcome as it did I."

"Oh! And your gift!" Forsyth knew he was forgetting something! He reaches into the satchel strapped across his back, producing several neatly-bound tomes, nothing particularly fancy but clearly made with care. "Several of the more popular novels from the local bookshop! An introduction to Fódlan's popular culture."

[aimlessarchery]

🎨 (if you're not taking these anymore dw but im curious about how python sees him)

// tbh i have so many thoughts about how python sees lukas that are hard to condense in his goofy teasing doodles of him but LKDSJFK take these for now

[hycanitho]

@redmessenger sent. "Lady Clair, it's lovely to see you again. You're certainly a sight for sore eyes... Ah," Lukas watches with wide eyes as any army of butlers carry trunk after trunk into the students dorms. "Did another person accompany you here? I'm sorry to say I didn't catch them."

Clair’s first order of business upon her return to Garreg Mach was transforming her Academy-ordained dormitory into a space that resembled something liveable. It looked to be tough work, for the room she had been given is only an eighth of the size of her chambers (maybe even smaller than that, in comparison to the sprawl of her summer estate). How she would ever fit even a quarter of the things needed for her survival into this veritable shoebox of a room is yet to be seen.

She steps out into the hall for a moment while her troupe of maids and manservants rearranges her dormitory to her liking, for overseeing such a task is quite the arduous thing. A familiar sight awaits her right outside her door — those russet tones and deep, dulcet voice could only belong to one lanceman.

“Lu - kas!” she crows, throwing out her arms and wrapping him in the tightest embrace she can muster. “I do say, it is the most delightful of surprises to see you here. Did my brother write to you about my arrival?”

Ladyknight releases him from her vice grip, throwing a glance over her shoulder at her various servants bustling about her room. “Oh, no, I made the journey alone. My father thought it best I come with some help… you know, for all the things that needed to come with me. I couldn’t have possibly carried all my belongings on my own! Why, I must have brought at least four trunks of gowns alone…”

Clair clears her throat. “Well, I doubt you came to see me for an inventory of my belongings — and, honestly, Lukas, between you and me, I scarcely remember half the things I even ended up bringing!” Grinning brightly, she loops an arm through his and rests it at the crook of his elbow.

“Now, I believe I am in the mood for a cup of tea. Or something sweet. Both, perhaps — yes, I think I would like both. We just have to catch up, Lukas. There is simply so much I must know!”

[gentlenekomata]

The horrible feeling of mud and soil still persist in Sakura’s mouth as soon as she opened her eyes, just to find herself in another dimension now, with a whole new ambience, but with the very same weapon as before –the bow, which she actually found it very useful and she felt pretty at ease with it now, since she developed a sort of attachment to it, since it reminded her of Takumi. Another plus, was a very gentle steed under her legs, which was nervously snorting at the surroundings, leaving a baffled expression on Sakura’s face, as soon as she noticed the great danger ahead of her team: a tall, very tall armour-like presence towering the whole zone, leaving a terrified feeling among all of them, especially on the poor riding beast of the petite princess. With a gentle pat, the pink-haired girl reassured her steed and then she turned to see and cheer about the safety of her whole team –she felt her heart so warm in seeing that everyone was safe and sound but… she turned once again, the armour was seemingly staring at her, she felt the urge of doing something, right now.

Sakura 10/10HP hits Titanus 15/15 with Stunner (Ranged) [Roll: 15 + 2 = 17, hit! Titanus 15/15 is stunned! Beak of Gofannon activates! Titanus 15/15 is afflicted with Toxic Poison! Aegis activates! [Roll: 10 + 2 = 12, success!] Damage is halved = -1.5 HP ; Trample activates! -2 HP! Titanus is 11.5/15 HP Titanus 11.5/15 HP cannot counterattack!

With a very firm movement, she took out the bow and with firm decision, she took aim and she shoot a perfect electrical arrow, which solidly pierced through the armour and stuck in a small portion of its body, leaving the monster momentarily paralysed. But that wasn’t it: attached to the arrow, a tip of poison to caught the enemy off guard… and it actually worked!

As the eerie armour-like creature seemingly suffered the poison and the stun, Sakura bravely stood still on her steed, turned towards her companions and timidly asked: “Who’s next?” with a very dainty smile on her rosy lips, knowing for sure she did manage to do some good for the starter of the combat.

I’m sure he would be proud of me—

@maligknightsthorns @unsungblade @redmessenger @lionscion

A magic armour with a toxic attitude (Gold Round – Team 3)

[thewitchsaccord]

Night does not fall because it never left. The stars are trapped in place and the moon will offer no guidance if asked. A procession of spirits arrives outside the monastery's gates to escort you to what was not long ago an abandoned town left to ruin and rot, recently overrun with some new, decaying faces.

The most observant among you may soon realize that despite their frightful appearances, the ghosts and skeletons occupying the town will only assail those who draw too close to the hordes of candy they guard.

A tall white shadow looms on the highest building, humming a melody that is likely to be less familiar than the voice itself considering the host makes no effort to alter her inflection and pitch.

"Fufufu..." she murmurs, seeing that some of you have grown restless. "I am Nihil. You have been chosen to participate in a game."

🍬 Candy Tracker 🍬

Ewan (@eagerfutureflame) vs Azama (@carefreemonk) Hilda (@delicatevalentine) vs Sonya (@excalibris) Andrei (@ulircursed) vs Ephidel (@artificidel) Azelle (@fjalarspark) vs Caspar @berglietz Lukas (@redmessenger) vs Forsyth (@viridescent-lance) Lucius (@semperiuvare) vs Niamh (@boundlesschaos) Grima (@fellincantation) vs Felicia (@maeido) Lilian (@divinecrest) vs Emma & Miranda (@shiningfalcon & @anruraiocht) Corrin (M) (@duskofendflame) vs Jakob (@indevouement) Knoll (@pryings) vs Caeda (@arcaeda) Selena (FE8) (@fluxrspar) vs Eldigan (@lionheartsoath) Sigurd (@bxldrsdraumar) vs Skrimir (@galliason) Leif (@diadic) vs Sylvain (@gauldheri)

[rockroselazuli]

( rose tinted )  - talk about a childhood memory they used to view as positive, but now see as negative

also asked by @redmessenger & @loveevangelist

She stayed silent for a moment.

"Um... I don't know! I have a lot of good memories that are still good." All the same, she had plenty that have turned sour. And if she was honest with herself, most of her good memories came tinged with varying levels of melancholy. Those weren't memories she was all that willing to share.

Like when community dinners were served and everyone gathered around to fill up on the smell before eating. She was told that it not only made the food more delicious, but it was healthier, too. You would be more full and refreshed from the meal. But it turned out that was an old wives tale -- the only reason the people of her village believed that was because there was never enough food to actually be satisfied. So, you tried to trick yourself into thinking there was.

And in the winter when her village would throw big sleepover parties. They were always so much fun! Her and the other kids would play together, the adults would all swap stories. Lapis didn't realize until later that these weren't actually parties at all -- they were a desperate attempt to stay alive. There wasn't enough firewood to go around. Instead, dozens had to huddle together in front of a single fire and hope their toes weren't blue in the morning.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized just how much of her life was affected by the scarcity of her land. All of it, to be exact. Every damn little thing.

But what did she have to be sad about? She didn't deserve a life any different.

"So that's it, really! Um... next question?"