#ruinakete

[fellpurpose]

MAGE DRAGON DID NOT KNOW WHERE HER FEELINGS WERE, for lots of factors of to-day, but mainly, in the bond she had grown with a certain, dull blonde-haired artist. he was all that she despised; intellectual in the wrong form, awfully loud to a discomfort, and a human. but, she could not deny the power that thrummed beneath his veins, commanded thus only by thunder and lightning. his theatrics, though, could be bent to a beneficial angle, in the possible form of distracting what he would then ruin.

how unfortunate, then, that all hopes of dragging his reputation through the remains of her wrath were immediately dispelled upon the sight of him; facing the wall of the library’s corner, gesturing wildly and without possible coherence, and mumbling to himself in a voice that was too loud to be whispers but too quiet to be discernable.

zephia’s smile immediately contorted into a grimace, the small box in her hand nearly crushed beneath her fist from shock.

“...right,” came her small mutter, followed closely by a curt hum as she took to softening her expression, “odin? step away from the corner, would you? i come bearing a gift.”

it was not much. a substitute for a present she would prefer━━━claws at the slope of his throat and a crook in his spine from kneeling━━━but she learned long ago that suffering must be introduced as a grace before it can allow for a sacrifice of blood. she cannot offer the intimacy of drawing blood together until he sees why there was an intimacy in the loss.

when odin turned, zephia quickly thrust the gift at him. a small, square box that, upon opening it, revealed a rather quaint gem. pale in color, though there was no denying the flicker of a sangria tint within its dull shine.

“it is a simple ability of mage dragons, creating magical objects and the like.” a pause; mage dragon’s smile twitched. “in light of you entertaining me in the armory, i gift you a charm of luck. do not exert it, for you can only use it minorly.”

but this sacrifice━━━a draw of the magic buried deep within her as of her demise, stalling her strength for but a day━━━would bear fruit. zephia would see to it that he returned the favor, whether by blood or trust, he’d be bound to her by this mere gift. thus, her expression brightened, sangria eyes narrowing with a senseless joy and her hands clasping as a sign of gratitude. 

“i heard that it was human custom to present others with gifts to-day, so here. take it, please.” she played the interaction with faux innocence, smiling as she added, “we are not friends, nor are we close, but i pray to the fell dragon that our bond grows, either way.”

( HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, from ZEPHIA to ODIN ! ) p.s. "elix they haven't even finished the armory thread" ok but i want an excuse to send sara funny threats via vday so look away from my indulgence orz odin's this close ( pinches my fingers ) to getting his fifth hound badge ( this is a lie )

in the shimmering haze of his own grandiosity, every gesture is a flourish and every word a soliloquy. just like the protagonist of the tale enclosed in his clutch, the mage thinks himself an enigmatic figure in this cast-off corner of the library. a theatrical virtuoso! the maestro of melodrama! he, who possess a flair for the dramatic, rivaled only by the gods themselves!

yet amidst his opulent realm of self-adulation, there comes a moment of surprise —the sound of the familiar voice. odin turns suddenly. zephia is met with a sharp gasp! and the rapid thud! of the book he shuts close.

( behold! see what is bestowed upon those who yield to the majesty of fate! )

within her grasp is a precious treasure. the pale hue of the gem, like the delicate blush of a rose petal, appears ethereal against the backdrop of her fingers. upon closer inspection, he can discern a hidden richness—a whisper of sangria, as if the gem holds within it the essence of twilight's warmth. an undeniable allure —a subtle charm that draws the eye of a chosen one and stirs his imagination. "that opulent finish...to stare at it...so alluring...like losing oneself in the twilight dusk-!"

odin's eyes grow wide. at long last, the grandiloquent maestro is rendered speechless (a rare occurrence in the annals of his dramatic repertoire). he returns the faux smile with sincerity, bowing his golden head as he takes gift into his own capable hands. "th-thank you, my lady!" and thus, the curtains of his ego part temporarily, revealing a glimpse of humility beneath the veil of extravagance. eyes mist with emotional wonder, and features alight with awe and gratitude. ( could this be confirmation? could he really be all that he aims to emulate? )

"ahem. but i would hardly call it SIMPLE! your skills are most impressive. and this attitude of yours...so casual in the face of a dark art as complex as conjuration...to be expected of a being with your ILLUSTRIOUS POWER!"

he beams, thoroughly delighted by this new development. "you heard correctly! now, let us be allies in shadow. two paragons of darkness who walk the lonely path of the fell arts. with this exchange...i hope you'll come to think of me as a reliable friend and companion."

the gem is turned over carefully in his hands. a thought occurs suddenly, and bright eyes turn pleading. "WAIT! before you leave, lady zephia...you must tell me what exquisite name you've bestowed upon this treasure! a most feverish, fervent yearning burns within me...the anticipation of knowing its name pierces me with a MILLION and one knives of pure agony- !"

[twistedisciple]

THE WATER OF THE POND WAS STILL, to the mage dragon’s dismay, when she came across her hound; claws behind her back and grace spread across her countenance. she had not the mood to delay her gratitude, but still, she had, smiling all the while as she took the curious face of interest, “i do not think you’ll catch many fish today, griss,” said with a hum, “the pond does not seem active this evening.”

and if it were, then that would matter little to either of them. for zephia moved in front of him after a moment of contemplative silence, a gesture not necessary once she continued with, “at my side. i need you.” before turning away to walk. she’d need not to order anymore, as her word would bring him to his feet, and has, many times before.

her attention was not for nothing, after all. the event would begin soon, and with it, her time would be cut short. so, she had planned everything in advance━━━from setting to victim; facade to scene ending; even to the very end when, thus, griss would return to her seeking what she would bestow. blessings to sombron had been given prior, in the hopes that all would fall into the steps she carved for them.

“lady daphne. blue, short hair. hazel eyes. average height. severe injury to the arm. a former knight of the monastery.” zephia listed these effortlessly, counting them off with the image of the victim in her head; their face had been given hardly a glance in passing, though she had retained all necessary for griss to mark his target. she looked to the side, gazing up at him with a smile, surprisingly delicate despite the fangs, “i need you to hurt them. they are closely loved by my associate of the church. one that has not proven to be as important as i asked of them.”

what more could he wish for? a target on another’s back and the promise of one on his, too. a gift from her to him; a promise of love she would happily reciprocate.

“keep daphne alive and do not hurt anyone else but them.” mage dragon stopped their stride, pausing before the split of the path, leading up to the monastery’s greenhouse and, opposite of it, the dormitories. a sigh, brief, before she turned fully to griss. “i have a new spell i hope to perfect. and to train properly, i need a willing person to lay as my straw dummy.” without pause, she added, “that will be you. only if you complete the mission. think of this like a… treat, if you will. hm-hm, a reunion gift, even.”

but he would not fail her, she trusted him on that. so, with a curt pat, or soft slap, on his cheek, she turned to leave for the greenhouse, “go on, then, griss. you will find me in the training hall once you are done.”

( HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, from ZEPHIA to GRISS ! )

The water of the pond was still, in spite of - or because of its place on Griss' list of last-ditch entertainment. He'd been left with idle hands today, something that he neither loved nor hated, and after some deliberation, chose to waste his rare freedom half-dozing on the dock. The cheap wooden rod he'd left in a clasp hadn't bobbed or bent once, so by the time Zephia found him, he'd nearly fallen asleep with his hands behind his head and the toe of one foot brushing the water's surface. But like any loyal hound, he recognized the sound of his master's footsteps even in a daydream, and roused at once.

"Yeah." He rose languidly onto one elbow to watch Zephia circle around him. "Haven't even gotten a nibble." But he didn't sound disappointed. Whenever the mage dragon came around, he knew she'd have plenty of entertainment for him - the time he'd idled away was inconsequential - and he'd risen to his feet before she'd said anything more. She'd never been one to waste her breath on small talk, or to check on him simply to see what he was doing. Dusting himself off, he abandoned the lifeless fishing rod to eagerly catch up with her.

"That knight doesn't sound too hard to find." His grin stretched across his face as he trailed a half-step behind Zephia like he always did, and it was audible in his voice whether she looked back at him or not. "Hurtin' 'em's not gonna be hard either if their arm's already messed up."

Even though the monastery's passages had emptied at this hour, with most of its residents either in the dining hall for dinner or settling into their rooms before the sun sank completely behind the mountains, Griss had the good sense to keep his voice down to a rasping half-whisper. It was harder, however, to tamp down his bubbling excitement. He didn't need Zephia to sweeten the deal, but sweeten it she had. When she stopped to turn back to him, he could hardly stand still.

Then - pop - her cupped palm struck his face, a good luck kiss with claws. Anything softer was foreign - and offensive - to them both.

"You know just what I like." He parted from her, laughing.

- - -

By daybreak, just as she'd ordered, Griss waited for her in the Training Hall, wide, sleepless eyes watching a crimson dream play again and again across the empty back wall. New stains, the same color as the one across his left eye, streaked his other cheek, and his sleeves were darker in places, still damp - all of them trophies for Zephia's assessment. If she was happy, then he was happy.

[machiot]

@ruinakete sent:

MAGE DRAGON HAD DREAMED OF ITS THIRD HOUND BEFORE SHE SHOWED FACE. how cruel of an ability memory was. never had it remembered a glimpse of its night terrors until then; grasping at its stomach, fisting the fabric of its nightdress between its claws, watching the ceiling with an unwavering stare. the same gaze it held to the back of another's head; just as incredulous, just as horrified.

"yes ma'am, the girl went down there. blonde hair, pretty smile, carrying a weapon. yes ma'am, that's the girl, alright!"

ghosts had not haunted them, not in the many occasions that led its gaze to meet that of a past identity. so, no, when zephia recognized the curls of blonde, able to practically feel the tresses it once delicately touched and combed, the weight in its chest was not denial.

to feel guilt would mean that it regretted the hand that drove a blade through a daughter's stomach. but it could not wield guilt against an action it would commit, time and time again if she forced its hand.

and marni was not its daughter.

still, zephia approached her, strides light and countenance absent of malice, as if it was anything but the beast it revealed itself to be. swiftly, it closed the distance between them, of the alley's dirt path and stray grass. claws sharp, fangs bared, the mage dragon nearly trembled at the sight of marni's back, the obliviousness of her wonder in the world. or perhaps, her curiosity about what allowed her to breathe once more. but, no matter, as whatever blessing she once had would cease to exist when this dragon, once again, ran her through with its blade.

( because knowing that she was alive would be enough to bring tears into its eyes. tears that it never once shed, not in life or death, not that it can remember. what more could it do than simply eradicate the feeling from its very root? stop the chance of her betraying it again despite the urge to forgive and forgive and remember?

no, marni had served her purpose and shown her hand of loyalty. if she were to see lady veyle again, then zephia would be condemned, once again, to face her ire. and it refused this. )

"marni?" it spoke, breathless but not surprised; as if simply tearing the name from its throat hurt it, "is it you? are you... this isn't a trick of the mind, right? you stand before me, alive, yes?"

it swayed on otherwise reliant feet, uncomfortably unfaltering in its stare and smile. its sword weighed heavy at its hip, almost thrumming with the intangible hunger of a starving corpse. and, when its third hound turned to face it, mage dragon lunged.

Since coming to this strange and foreign land, Marni had spent many a sleepless night paranoid that Zephia would find her and finish the job. Dread that those purple eyes would look down at her and she would be too paralyzed to do anything but meekly accept her fate.

"Don't worry," the people down here had tried to soothe her, "people come here to make themselves hard to find. If you don't want don't want to be found, you won't."

But those bastards had sold her out at the first opportunity...!

Her heart ached, unforgivably so, at the sound of the mage dragon's voice. At the same time, though, her stomach dropped and adrenaline pounded through her veins. Fear and longing churned together uncomfortably to create this nameless feeling threatening to strangle her.

"Z-Zephia?"

(I missed you. Did you miss me, too?)

She would have forgiven it all. She would have happily gone to stand by her side again if Zephia had looked upon her and told her that she did well for surviving. She hated being punished, but she could accept it all if it meant being forgiven.

But a Hound never forgives a traitor, because, you see, a Hound that bites once will bite again.

Maybe it only made sense that Zephia would try to de-fang her, then. Misbehavior could only be tolerated up to a certain degree before it became unforgivable. The sword that lunged at her now was only there because she had rebelled in the first place.

But because Marni had bared her fangs once before, she bared them again.

They had all scoffed at her insistence on keeping a weapon with her at all times, but the sword clanged against the haft of her axe, hastily thrown up defensively. The vibration of the impact traveled down her arms all the way down to her core and Marni winced.

"Why?" No one would come help even if the girl screamed, but she did so anyway. "Why can't you just leave me alone, Zephia?!"

[princessmacedon]

[ PAN DULCE ] : do they have an "i can fix them" complex ? or are they one that needs to be fixed ? if neither, how do they feel about the idea ?

oh i’ve been looking forward to this one!! i don’t think Maria necessarily believes that she can “fix” someone or that it’s something you should intend to do to someone else, but her view of and beliefs in love do run somewhat adjacent to this!

love, as she sees it, is something no one is born unworthy of; at some point, we were all worthy of love. though she’s loathe to admit the implication that at some point someone can no longer be worthy of it, the hopeful part of her considers that an active state, if that makes any sense? if very severe. people like gharnef she considers to be unworthy of love because they will use it to hurt and destroy — to be cruel beyond measure with no care for anyone else except the object of his reverence. (this isn’t even to say that only people who are ‘good’ deserve love, but it’s hard to explain) but, if gharnef could change, if he could care at all for others…

it’s tricky. it isn’t in her to say people don’t deserve love, but neither can she rightly say that gharnef as she knew him would use it as anything other than a tool of ruin and hurt. she would not want anyone to love the version of him she knew.

anyway— her belief is more that love is human (not in that it is exclusive to humans, but that it is genuine, sometimes flawed, and connects us to each other); she believes that it can be healing, salving, understanding. for so many, that which you cannot do for yourself is something you can do for others, and that strength is love. for so many, they are too scared to believe in themselves until someone places their faith in them, and that courage is love.

the way Maria sees it, love isn’t what “fixes” a person — love (at least in this context) is a form of belief in a person, an encouragement for them not to give up on themself, maybe to inspire them to change or find the courage to begin.

…which might sound kind of similar in the end? and i won’t say that it’s completely different, but at least in intent Maria doesn’t think love is “fixing” — she can’t compel anyone to change; that can only come from themself. but she believes it can become bravery, strength, and the want to be better, because that’s what it is for her

[izanagifortune]

@ruinakete continued from here:

BOREDOM COULD LEAD A KINGDOM INTO RUINS; was it not human nature to take until satisfied? to quell one's disinterest by any means necessary? thus, this interaction was fate, foretold by a stereotyped compatibility that the dragon's den would be approached by an awfully bored soul━━━a man whose whimsy was as horridly informal as his vocabulary. this was not the first time the dragon's gaze had fallen on the strange man, nor would it be the last. however his reputation may precede him, izana's starting mannerisms crack open the dilated eyes of this mage dragon. it blinked at him, stiffly sat on the cathedral's first pew, claws unmoving in its lap; an awful contrast to the white robes they rest above. madam zephia. its countenance faltered, stuck between the beginnings of a scowl and a smile. yet it spoke with an air of enthusiasm, tilting its head up to meet his gaze properly, "oh? well, entertainment is hardly a one-way road. you amuse me and i, you, yes?" after all, the lack of activity within the clergy was bound to send its members scrambling for some crumb of delight outside of the casual kneeling and chores they━━━and she━━━were tasked with. thus, the mage dragon was quick to rise from the pew, hands clasped as it regarded izana with a minor curiosity; as humored as it appeared annoyed. "however, this work has become a bore, hasn't it? well," its hand reached to pat his arm, already beginning to move toward the ajar doors that led to the monastery's bridge, "come now, stranger. your company will have to do, i suppose." a pause in stride; sangria eyes glanced back at izana's eyes. the wicked grin pulling at zephia's lips had not matched the consideration within honeyed words, "lest staying among the masses is safer for you? privacy will not scare you, no? hm-hm, the choice is yours."

"Nope! Privacy or people, it doesn't matter to me! A party of two is just as fine as with many!" He practically skips towards the bridge, more eager to leave the cathedral than to stay in it, "that old church is full of stuffy people and stuffy things though! Fresh air is good for me, and everyone else of course!"

Blinding white hair (yes, tragically beautiful; wasn't it?) flutters in the light breeze of the day as he steps outside. Shoes tapping gently against the ground, he turns back to Lady Zephia with a mischevious grin, "Of course! I can entertain you as well! Fortunes or jokes? I can certainly do either!"

He had plently of other party tricks up his sleeves (His rather large sleeves. They could fit a lot!) but there was far too many to mention in a simple short sentence! Best to focus on his best talents! (His fortune were not just simply a talent! They were a gift from the very gods above! Not to brag~)

"I mean, tell me about yourself, doll! A conversation is the start of all great things; isn't it?"

[beholdenning]

HC + PURPOSE.

// denning was made for a purpose, and that was to serve nergal and further his ends, mainly through helping him develop new morphs from the information gleaned from denning itself. if the person who made it, the one it should serve, no longer lives, then its purpose is effectively void.

// ... he was never meant to outlive his master. logically, it should follow that he has no purpose, but he still moves and speaks. tools outlive their masters often, and heirloom fabric scissors or old passed-down hammers still get used. his perceived objecthood is a good explanation for his continued use.

// i don't want to say too much on his present general will to live, so far as his kind of artificial life can do so, but... he finds that if his hands stay idle forever, it would be a terrible waste. so it is that despite the technicalities, servitude remains his purpose, though imperfect.

[justices-blade]

HC + GRIEF.

// something to be endured, never indulged.

// grief's weird to him. it scares him. edward already habitually has an avoidance of emotions or trains of thought he deems unpleasant or painful, that don't lead to an obvious resolution, and grief is no exception. pain and anguish are distractions! recoiling is a sign of weakness! he can't be weak in a daein that finally could let him climb the ladder if he's strong —

// and he's seen the things grief can do to people, seen the measures they drive them to, the depths of despair. kids without parents, kids without siblings, haunted tales of a blood-plague long past, winters that take and take. when he was far, far younger, he kept his circle almost exclusively to his younger brother to help avoid it. if he intends to push on and keep living, he can't afford to get himself bogged down by something like grief.

// — is what he thought. it's not that he can't be affected by it, its that he denies it with all its being until it comes in to crush him. he doesn't endure it, he runs away from it. losing his brother to the occupation nearly did him in, since he spent his entire life orbiting that single point — it's impossible not to feel crushing grief about it, but he jumped the hoop directly into denial that he's dead and more that he must've gotten away, somewhere, somehow, then attached himself to leonardo then the dawn brigade like a burr.

// while surprisingly emotionally intelligent in some aspects, this is where edward genuinely, completely and utterly fails. he discards bits and pieces of grief and lets it pile up to choke him and trip him up when he doesn't realise. he doesn't acknowledge it, doesn't try to move past it, doesn't try to confront it. if anything happens to make him grieve, he represses it.

// and if he let it go — if he ever tried to look — he's full of love, so he would grieve for loss of anything — a bird with a broken wing, a clotheshook left empty, a body at the other end of his blade.

// so he doesn't let himself think long enough about it to fall in love, to grieve. he looks for other things to love that still live. if he didn't, he could never be strong again, he thinks. daein's no longer a demon meritocracy from hell, but the hardiness and value in power of its people is still so engrained into him and continued in his conclusion that the strong need to protect and raise the weak, and that he is part of the strong. he can't shake it.

// it's bad.

[lycianlynx]

HC + BETRAYAL.

// c'mon, they're an emotionally mildly volatile teenager. you think they're gonna handle betrayal well? they'd feel betrayed over you taking their declared share of snacks.

// i do think it's notable that betrayals towards him directly count for less than betrayals on his scale of what he considers basic morality and human courtesy. he's not mad at you taking what's his, he's mad at you taking from someone else. they're not mad that raigh left them specifically behind out of nowhere, they're mad that raigh left the orphanage with one less able set of hands to fulfill his own wishes.

// essentially, they value people's word and honesty a lot, and will assume a person's goodwill if they have a good rapport with chad. they want to believe someone will do the right thing no matter the scale, and its this belief being breached that sets off their betrayal alarm.

// of course, they have a mostly reasonable scale on this response, at least. also, they're a big fat hypocrite hahaha

[rafent]

there would always be guilt swelling within the mage dragon's heart at every sight of lady nel and lord n——rafal. lord rafal. the same dragon it once sought to eradicate with hatred fueling the flames of its outstretched hands. yet now, its hands were raised for good, pressed gently to the porcelain of a teapot's belly as the fire beneath the wood dwindled to simmering crackles.

today was lord rafal's name - day, and zelestia had no clue what to give the fell dragon. they had not been as acquainted as she'd like, despite her unwavering duty to uphold him and his older sister's ideals——would he enjoy the same delights as lady nel did? should she prepare a plentiful of gifts in the light of him disregarding the first? or the second? no, the fell dragon would not bring himself to deny at least one present, right?

thus, most of the day went as proclaimed; zelestia pondered, stumbled, and tripped over itself in the endeavor of pleasing lord rafal. it hardly left his side, tending to every need of his ( though there was an evident lack of tasks, as rafal was as independent as his countenance let on ) from brief worries to more grueling acts. doors opened in advance, food offered by eager hands, and attempts at ushering the fell dragon to rest whenever he stood idle for a moment too long.

all of it was fussing, at its finest, and yet, she could not understand why her heart still ached afterward. thus an introspection led to now; hands cupping a teapot, two embroidered cups set across a table spread, and a mage dragon as confused as the set - up was simple. all this time, she came to realize, and she hadn't even expressed a 'happy birthday' yet?! oh, how stupid that was of her! a fault that, quickly, needed to be dealt with; hence, her placing the pot down to find the fell dragon before the night ended.

"lord rafal! a moment of your time, please," zelestia exclaimed——pleaded, really. breathless, she stepped before him. an unspoken apology was strewn across her face when she bowed her head, clasping her hands together against her chest as she continued, "i'm sorry! i forgot to wish you a happy birthday earlier, despite my attempts to ease any hardships you'd face today. so, um... happy birthday? i mean, happy birthday!"

when the mage dragon rose, she smiled sweetly, hands no longer clasped as she eagerly gestured to an area quite a distance away, where the earlier teatime set - up was. "i prepared tea for the both of us, if you would like to sit down and try some. unless you are more inclined to rest, then by no means shall i stop you. actually, i encourage it!"

( —— fell xenologue au ; zelestia )

As Rafal knew well, as Nil had known first, the Four Winds though humble were not to be underestimated. Each knight defined by strength and fealty that far exceeded the scant numbers to their ranks. To his surprise, they further outsized expectation in that loyalty to Nil failed to disintegrate entirely, some carried over to the man who displaced him and the very Elyos they were born to. Zelestia among them, Zelestia who despite her draconic roots was more alike a tireless hummingbird, flitting to and from Rafal throughout the day in a never-ending desire to please.

Often while speaking together, his partial expectation was that she would expend all the energy she had on her own worries. Or that his mind would simply implode from the speed of its thoughts processed. Whichever came first. "What nonsense, Zelestia. Every moment of this day has decidedly been claimed as yours. What purpose is there in asking after it now?" Arms crossed, the glowering mien above it colored by torchlight in an expression that was hostile but not unusual or - to another extent - true to the surface portrayed.

Had Rafal truly been displeased with her efforts, he would not have permitted himself to partake in one inch of them. He realized that despite his unforgivable sins, his most undeserving of natures, she conferred on him a day of comparative normalcy. Something he had not experienced for a thousand years. In a figment of reality he would not name, he had even enjoyed it; the fussing on his birthday, the bustling energy of Zelestia, and the sense of preoccupation only recently condemned.

All of it achingly familiar - a return to fond and simpler times though he knew those times existed no more. His cold gaze slackened, a flickering warmth behind it. "Heed the words I shall only say once; for all this time, you have not allowed yourself to rest in your attentions toward me. . .so I will accept your well-wishes on one condition. You will sit alongside me without worrying mindlessly of this or that."

A heartbeat toward retrospect, the next addendum hastily immediate:

"—and you will know the value of silence."

After all, he enjoyed such pleasantries in fixed moderation, including the social aspect inherent within them. He did not even speak to Nel so brazenly or as often during their teatime. But no doubt there would be time to learn of his habits for those who knew Nil better than they knew Rafal. This, the expectant Fell Dragon invited - starting his approach toward the prepared area without awaiting response.

[sublimeflowoftime]

abatina :   is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time   (   due to becoming more educated on the topic ,   certain experiences  ,   etc .   ) ,    or that they   would   change their mind about under certain circumstances ?  

Botanical Headcanons

Spoilers right out the gate with this one okay here we go

THE AGARTHANS. I take no criticism on this.

In the beginning (BEGINNING beginning), she tried to help them, with creating the Nabateans and having them also assist in helping society advance technologically and socially. If she didn’t like them at all, she would have no reason to help them in originally creating Agartha. Later on when they start to see themselves as ‘above’ her and her children’s help as she understands it and starts attacking them, she reasonably changes her mind and does not like them at all anymore. Killing her and most of the Nabateans probably didn’t help that much either.

However, now that she doesn’t have memories, there are likely still lingering feelings of something being wrong, like what she feels when visiting the red canyon. When she meets Kroyna and Solon in their disguises as Monica and Tomas respectively, she seems to know something is a little off, even if she doesn’t know what. But because she doesn’t know what, she just brushes it off as “huh, they’re a little weird. But they seem nice :)” and carries on with her day.

At this point, she doesn’t have the memories that would make her hate the Agarthans were she to meet them, so she gives them the benefit of the doubt as long as they have some form of credibility behind them, despite what her intuition may say. 

This would likely give her a chance to actually talk to and potentially befriend an Agarthan or Agarthan creation. In this case, even if she were to get her memories back and be angry at the Agarthans again for what they did to her and her family, that one person is still her friend. Unless they betray her again, while she might be a little uneasy around them for a bit, she wouldn’t hate them.

In fact, if her bond with them is strong enough and they were willing to vouch for the Agarthans having changed and become better people (whether or not it’s true), she’d probably be willing to give them a chance again. Though it’s unlikely some of the more violence obsessed Agarthans wouldn’t just ruin that immediately.

[adalrikr]

"Yes, Lady Zephia..." He says, frowning softly. While she is certainly an authority figure, and he does feel inclined to obey her... she has proven herself to be less trustworthy that he had expected. He would certainly not obey each and every one of her orders like he would have had it been Lord Pent.

But she was not his Lord Pent. And he had no reason to remain loyal; now did he?

Once the boys are finally home, Erk breathes a sigh of relief. No more trouble for his night. He departs from the porch at once, determined to get home to his own dorm as quickly as possible. He had studying to do, and this bodyguarding expedition had already wasted enough of his time.

"Lady Zephia," He says, firm and resolute compared to his normal tone, "Bending to your will in the future is... not something I find myself inclined to do. If you have something specific you need me for, I will be more than happy to help. But do not expect me to be your obidient little dog. Goodnight, my lady."

He heads off without another word, tome clutched tight to his chest. It had been... an interesting night, to say the least.

[end]

☽ ・ to keep a child's heart —— zephia & erk

MISSION BOARD: FRACTURE / bodyguard prompt.

[pryings]

once again, there comes a signal that it is time to change tables once more. the last round is about to begin.

12PM. EST FEB 18 - 11:59PM FEB 19 ROUND THREE.

knoll and hubert help people along, assisting stragglers with finding their seats.

"this time, we will be testing the efficacy of questions that, in prior rounds, resulted in mutual approval," knoll says. "you will not be assigned a question you got before, but rather, one that elicited a good response from someone else. please do your best with these topics."

"be sure not to disappoint us," hubert adds.

sothis (@sublimeflowoftime) & zephia (@ruinakete) topic: how do you connect with others on an interpersonal level?

seliph (@virtuoustyrfing) & sakura (@gentlenekomata) topic: which food brings you the most joy?

minerva (@reddragonprincess) & freyja (@foreversnightmare)  topic: which animal you most relate to?

linhardt (@pridelessdaydreamer) & denning (@beholdenning) topic: favorite flower

poe (@loveevangelist) & ike (@ofradiances)  topic: how would you save your current conversation partner if you were in a sandpit together, getting slowly pulled down into the abyss? or would you prioritize yourself?

saizo (@saizov) & l’arachel (@aglaean) topic: music and dancing

dwyer (@apathynoir) & mark (@allyphase) topic: discuss your hometown.

leif (@diadic) & petra (@calderosea) topic: preferred ways to pass the time.

erk (@adalrikr) & lucius (@semperiuvare) topic: what hobbies do you partake in?

selena (FE8) (@fluxrspar) & elffin (@moriddyn) topic: assuming you do not die within the coming months, what are your plans for the future?

nils (@carmennivis) & faye (@fiberflxwer) topic: how many pets you would be willing to adopt, assuming you had the time and space?

hector (@braveryinblue) & eitri (@grimkkr) topic: are morals universal?

raven (@peerlessscowl) & elincia (@amitieos) topic: local sights you enjoy.

xander (@chevaleri) & laslow (@laslow) topic: childhood aspirations/goals compared to current ones.

(per usual, if you don't see your muse's name, check the other half of this post!)

[twistedisciple]

FIRST CAME THE SCRUTINY OF THE DRAGON'S GLARE, one of the first inward gazes into the inevitable, yet pointedly disappointing defeat of her hound from where she stalked the spectating masses, the unfurling emotion obstinate despite the end goal of his mission merely serving to distract before reaping true benefits. second came the soft curl of her lips, twitching the solidarity of her countenance until she had not the energy to stop the laughter that broke free from her.

and that was how she appeared upon reaching her other half; grinning blatantly in amusement with her claws unsheathed, clasped hands near her stomach unless it was to carelessly dismiss an idle medic with a curt wave or, if necessary, entirely push them out the way herself.

"there you are! how many did you fell, dear?" a greeting in itself, paired with the delicate cant of her head as she watched griss with keen eyes, wholly unbothered by the sight of bloodstained cloth being deposited at the side of the cot she found him near. "hm. . . i would have offered you the monastery's cups, but they have a disgusting taste in drinks. hmph! no matter. i am proud to see you last as long as you had, though not entirely impressed. you are a hound after all."

because she had not, though again, the relevance of her direct participation mattered little when it brought her in the shadow of lord sombron's self - appointed, falsely crowned heir. and that, too, would be a matter to be brought upon later. yet, to completely ignore it. . . not many of her conquests always went untold from her hound's ears, as to lean upon him provided her with a body to punish when all led to fail. after all, who else had delivered the word of the fell twin's existence if not him?

two - toned eyes flit from griss' face to her flexing claws. "had you seen lord rafal's performance earlier? defeated in the first round." then, quiet, the rare flicker of strange intent darkened her countenance, indulging the opinion of her half she hardly took to notice. "what do you think of it? is that his usual prowess in the throes of battle?"

Medics parted like a sea, or like fleeing rats, telling Griss of Zephia's arrival before her laughter reached his ears. Those tending his wounds had eagerly abandoned him under the pretense of giving the two of them privacy, but he couldn't say he cared one way or another. The bleeding had stopped by now, but he'd been made to relinquish the mantle of his loyalty, the cilices and straps intended to bind and chafe, and the rest of his clothing from the waist up so that they could dress his wounds. Now he sat on the edge of the cot, defanged and declawed for Zephia's judgment. He leaned back on his hands to watch her with a lazy smile.

"Yeah, well--" he excused the comment with the wave of one of his hands, dried blood still caked around and under the fingernails. "-- me 'n this other guy got outnumbered."

Just the facts. He'd never been one for glory in battle, as long as he got to have his fun. And he couldn't say he didn't have fun this year. It was clear in the remnants of his smile. But despite the residual exhilaration, despite their languid drift, carmine eyes were still attentive. Zephia had been taken out of the tournament, too, and he wondered idly about the lines of her face, whether they had always been there or were new.

"Lord Rafal lost, too, huh?" he answered absently, until she snapped his attention back for an opinion. His gaze hardened with sharpened focus and caught the tail end of something dark slither across her expression, too fast, but too uncertain. A trick of the light, or one of the mage dragon's many secrets he knew he'd never understand, Griss couldn't tell for sure.

"I dunno." He shrugged the thought away and pushed himself stiffly off his hands, bending forward to drape his arms over his knees instead, the ridge of his spine making shadows down his bare back between crimson-stained bandages and crimson-inked skin. "I've only seen 'im fight as a dragon."

The memory of his first run-in with the fell heir evoked an itch across his chest that he scratched at absentmindedly.

"Always did think his human body looked kinda flimsy though," he said, and then discarded it with a shrug as if it had no merit at all, as barren and superficial as it was. It wasn't often that Zephia asked him for his thoughts, and rarer still that he knew the kinds of thoughts she wanted from him. The years -decades, by now - they'd been suppressed had allowed his survival for this long. The question had set rusted gears to struggle infinitesimally in some forgotten part of himself, powered by nothing else but the irrepressible desire to please, yet lost in ambiguity, unable to find the traction to turn. He searched her face for a sign that that was enough, all too eager now for distraction, and his attention caught on something else. He tilted his head slowly to the side and reined in his splaying grin, the faintest glimmer of concern softening his eyes.

"They got your injuries all taken care of, yeah?"

[machiot]

@ruinakete asked:

THE HOUND RECOGNIZED HER DOG'S BARKING AND SHOUTING THE MOMENT IT REACHED HER EARS, drawing her focus from the needlessly worrying attendant at her side to the exposed entrance of the medical tent she currently idled within, heels crossed at the ankles and sidelong gaze nearly dull with a lingering boredom. so, dearly granted, the commotion that caught the eye of most nearby curiosities was, too, the catalyst that pulled her from her seat in the front corner of the tent.

had marni participated in a battle far lost? yes, as there could be little doubt in the reality of the dog's silly whining; and, after all, fell dragon had not been the only bearer of her diverted attention. ignoring the existence of both marni and mauvier would be a feat not even she could accomplish without time, lest she be reminded of how long it took to forcibly dull the impact her family's lasting breaths had on her own.

a strange emotion tugged at her heart, coiling uncomfortably around the useless, unbeating organ at the sight of marni seething and growling before a healer. and almost, suddenly despite herself, her lips deemed it wise to twitch into the cracks of a smile once given only to the hounds beneath her.

it was a mistake she swiftly met with disdain; the difference between dogs and hounds was merely the hand that guided them, and that, in its simplest form, was what zephia had forfeited the very moment she turned her blade onto the hilt of marni's axe.

their eyes met once the healer turned on their heel to tend elsewhere. mage dragon had not hesitated to fill in the space they once occupied, unsheathed claws on her thighs as she leaned closer to where the dog sat. a purr scratched her throat, "predictable, i fear. . . fodlan has weakened your axe grip, darling."

then came the disappointed curl of her frown; the inquisitive mock of her arched brow. "your performance was as pathetic as your last had been. hm, even in spite of all you learned. i even took the time to watch you amid battle!" a pause was taken, two - toned eyes searching marni's face for retaliation, before she offered a smile, "are you not ashamed of your lacking efforts? i would be, if i were in your shoes. barking to get back into battle though you can hardly perform a proper bite. . ."

and softer, in a croon, she sighed, "silly, silly girl."

Marni hadn't even been that injured when she had been unceremoniously hauled off of the field. No one had breathed a word to her about any sort of time limit. What was the point in a mock battle if no one even collapsed to the ground? She could still go further, last longer than either of her idle teammates, but they wouldn't let her back out onto the field.

It was something about her being eliminated, but she very clearly could still fight. Were these people stupid? Didn't they want to win? Wasn't that why they sent her out there in the first place?

It was quite busy in the medical tent and the healer in charge of Marni had no time to spare for her after patching up her wounds. There were many others limping in to the tent in various degrees of injury and no time to waste on a girl who kept foolishly insisting to be let back out onto the field.

The dragon who took the healer's place silenced Marni's yapping far faster than anything anyone else could have tried. Only moments prior, the cleric had needed the help of a staff to get Marni to stop moving, but now she sat still as a statue. Her gaze dropped to where Zephia's claws rested, sweat beading on her forehead.

If there was one thing she feared above all else, it was lectures from Zephia.

"You were watching me?"

Marni's throat constricted. Shame, at having performed so poorly, and that stupid, stubborn thrill of happiness that Zephia had looked for her. If she had known that she was being watched, maybe the fear would've inspired her to hit better.

...No, maybe she really had just gotten worse after that day. Without a firm hand to guide her, she had gotten sloppy, her bite directionless. It wasn't until the blond man had goaded her into attacking that she managed to land a single hit.

"It's not my fault, okay? If they let me go longer, I would've been just as good as I used to be! I'm used to longer battles with lots of people!" Frayed nerves loosened her lips, words spilling out one after the other. "It's not like you're out there fighting right now, either!"

Marni clamped her mouth shut after that last line. Impulsive or not, it had been a bad idea to say it aloud and she knew it.

[fiberflxwer]

mille-feuille - do they believe friends can become lovers? if so, when does love transcend from platonic to romantic? if not, why?

[ edible enjoyments | Still accepting! | also asked by @ruinakete and @reddragonprincess!]

[ She's too experienced with the latter, with friends going from platonic to romantic. How about we focus more on friends and platonic love?

What I've always found strange when looking deeper into Faye pre-writing is that, honestly? She ranks pretty low in the friends rankings. Now meta-wise, this can possibly be due to being a SoV-exclusive character that even then is entirely optional, but I'd like to think there's more to it than that. Take her only non-Alm support, with Silque, for instance:

Faye: Well, um… I don’t think that kind of friendship is for me. Sorry. Silque: Huh? Faye: I’d rather spend time near Alm than stand about gossiping. No offense. [SoV Faye/Silque C Support] Faye: Talking about Alm isn’t fun unless Alm himself is there. Look, it’s okay. Not everyone has to be friends, right? [SoV Faye/Silque B Support]

On paper, Faye just rejects Silque's friendship advances with the excuse that it's all better with Alm than anyone else. However, Sacred Echoes tries to diverge this uncomfortable fixation with Alm by tapping more into Faye's reserved side; having little interest in making friends with someone she just met and having nothing really special to share even if they were friends.

I'd like to believe Faye lacks experience in friendship for a mix of these reasons: both reserved in only knowing friendship with village boys and using Alm as a front for why she needs no one else in her life. It's why she would probably not have made many friends in the Deliverance, even with the woman (though Silque is likely the one exception, who finally broke through and helped her a bit in this aspect).

I know this post got pretty off-topic in relation to the initial question, but I would say that Faye thinks that only very close friends can become lovers. They are the only types of friends that she has truly felt comfortable with, so otherwise she couldn't picture anyone, or at least herself, getting with them romantically. ]

[theofficersacademy]

Activity Check: April

We’ve conducted the activity check for April!

If your muse is both:

Not listed below

Has made the activity requirement for this month (3 IC posts, regardless of any exemption status)

you may claim your activity skill point! Simply add it to your Total Skill Points on your stats and allocate it wherever you please. If you have reached a new letter rank and would like to claim a new ability, please message the Masterlist.

Warned:

Constance von Nuvelle @nuvelled

Rhea @aurheatum

Samuel @notsoscarlet

Dheginsea @old-scalebag

Chrom @ylisseanstar

Emmeryn @emblemartyr

Tharja @searingenvy

Zephia @ruinakete

Lianna @liaytolisia

Booted:

Claude von Riegan @achaemenidstar

- the House Leaders