#solmtinel

[hosannan]

Of Oceans Crossed { Timerra & Nanna

The Officers Academy welcomes the continent of Elyos! With the current interest in countries outside of Fodlan, the students are eager to welcome new faces and learn all they can about these new-to-them countries. The cooking club in particular is hosting a potluck for all to attend, starring a roast bear on a spit.

Ah… Nanna had heard the of the likes of Elyos during her initiation into the academy, but she hadn’t come across it in any of her maps until then. It would be a shame not to use this potluck as an opportunity to bridge a connection of some sort—perhaps even make friends if she was lucky. The sweet miss Veyle had made quite a lovely impression with her elegant decorum, so Nanna could only hope that it would be the same for any other. The cooking club had set up their spit outside, strewing different sets of blankets outside for all to come and eat. She had heard that Leif was part of the hunt for the bear they had mounted, so it certainly wouldn’t hurt to try it…

“Hello!” Best foot forward, Nanna. “Oh, one slice, if you may—” She had an aside with one of the cooking club members for a moment, before turning her attention to the girl in line. She had all sorts of accessories and baubles that were entirely foreign to the culture of Thracia. Nanna took a mental note to ask her if they were cultural pieces or if they were part of the young woman’s usual wear. “I’m Princess Nanna of Thracia, haha! I’m still quite new here, myself. Have you been enjoying your time at the academy?”

She continued with ease, taking a plate of bear and a side of potato, steamed and dashed with herbs. “I’m quite fond of your hair ornaments…” Nanna stepped wayward, to allow the rest of the line to continue its steady stream. Her swarthy complexion and colorful accessories were beautiful, in Nanna’s opinion. Her own feather accessory rippled as a breeze stirred past them. “Are they significant to your country? Or perhaps to yourself?”

“Oh and—If you do not mind, might I join you for a meal?” Nanna hadn’t managed to sit down with her new colleagues yet, so this was as good a time as any. And besides, the worst she could say was no, right?

@solmtinel

[failnaughted]

@solmtinel ; Riding +1

You're telling him that Fódlan actually opened itself up for diplomatic relationships with other countries and continents? And made itself some friends across the seas? And those friends can come to the Academy and study here and not be treated with sneering and suspicion every step they take?

To Claude, this feels like the wildest dream he has ever had. But also he won't lie, if this is a dream, then he wouldn't mind never waking up.

Of course, this process of opening the doors and borders has taken some time now, as he knows, and will take some time still, but that's cool by him. He expected that. He expected it to take longer than however long he has to walk this earth, really. The progress made so far is already more than he ever thought he would get to see.

Well, anyway. With new visitors come new customs, and supposedly, one of them has introduced a most peculiar tradition: wolf riding. The mere idea sounds strange to Claude when he first hears it. He's seen wolves in his life, they are gorgeous and majestic creatures, and by no means small - but he doesn't recall seeing a wolf big enough to ride. How does that even work? Do they actually mean that literally?

This curiosity, and the resulting eagerness to open his own eyes to the new and unknown the same way he had hoped Fódlan itself to do, brings him to the monastery's kennel (big and beautiful, fairly recently built by the looks of it) to check it out.

It is as he enters and his eyes land upon the wolves resting in the kennel that he understands the answer. Yeah, he's seen wolves alright. Never as big as those though, what the heck? He's fairly sure he has seen horses smaller than these.

In front of the next kennel, he spots a person - another student, and from his very House at that, as he now recalls. He smiles bright and waves in greeting as he's noticed.

"Hello there. Here to check out the wolves, too? Is it true they've had some pups recently?" He laughs, a hint nervously. Those are some wolves alright. "Are the pups... also as big?"

The Weirdest Doggy Daycare in Fódlan || Claude & Timerra

[peerlessscowl]

Cultural Inappropriation

When you break the news about the imposter lords to one of the villages, they naturally react in horror and shame for being deceived. However, something goes awry when the message is passed along to the village elders. A miscommunication down the line leads these leaders, half-blind and three-quarters-deaf, to believe that you are the “real Lyndis”. Whether you are or not, there is little you can do to convince them otherwise, and so they demand you make things right. [Grants +1 Authority]

(Starter for @solmtinel)

It was supposed to simply be an in-and-out. Deliver a message, which had been written for them on a scroll and sealed with the Archbishop's personal seal, offer assistance if any property damage had occurred, delivers alms if necessary, then get out and back on their way to the monastery in time for a meal and some training.

"You want us to what?"

The steward of the village smiled blandly, cocking his head without turning to hear the murmur of Old Faerghan from the line of elders behind him. After a moment, he repeated himself, "The Lady Lyndis is being asked to make recompense for the damage she has done."

Raven shook his head, a frown tugging at his lips. They had been assured that there had been no casualties from the imposter's shenanigans, not even when the faux Lady Caelin attempted to shoot a bow from the back of one of the Ancestral Herd with her feet. "You told us that she hadn't caused any damage."

Amused, the steward canted his head again, calling out to the seated council behind him in a lyrical tone, waited for the answer, nodded once, curtly. "Not physical damage, my lord." He pressed a hand to his chest. "Damage to the heart. To the dignity of our proud village. As you may know, we uphold ancient traditions here, and this supposed imposter has flagrantly disrespected those of us who hold such things dear."

The man leveled his gaze for a moment on Raven's companion, one of the new students from Elyos, a colorful girl with a colorful personality, before turning back to Raven. He smiled blandly. "As her man, I would like for you to inform her that she must pay the proper dues."

"As her what?"

[bxldrsdraumar]

mint :   does your muse view themself as virtuous   &   moral ?what do these words mean to them ?

(@solmtinel who asked the same)

Sigurd is a bit of a funny guy in that he assumes that what he is doing is the right thing always without actually checking to make sure that this is the case. Critical thinking skills are not his forte - this man is all heart, and because he knows that his actions come from a place of love and righteousness (by which I mean, he never acts out of ill will), he thinks this means that by default these decisions are the correct ones.

Let's get a little Doylist with it and take the most egregious example: the entire castle seizing mechanic of the game. Sigurd is compelled by the virtue of the programming of the game to conquer not just castles in his own country, but those of neighboring countries as well. This is explained in-game as a bit of a game of dominoes - one act of aggression leads to a reaction leads to a reaction leads to Belhalla - but for every castle that Sigurd takes, someone pushes against him, and his response is generally uniform:

I did it because I had to, it was the right thing to do.

It is really only when Eldigan (and Lewyn) confronts him that he starts to feel remorse for his actions - Eldigan because this is a man he respects coming to defend his own country against Sigurd's invading force, just as Sigurd had done at Yngvi; and Lewyn who points out that for every action Sigurd takes, there is an equal consequence to the smallfolk, which he does not see because he has blinded himself in his single-mindedness.

To Sigurd, virtuousness and morality are the pinnacle of what a man should strive for, and so he does in his way - but he is so naive that he fails to take into account that he isn't actually the main character, and that just because he wants something a lot doesn't mean that it's actually Right.

[apostatizing]

Lost (And Found) [ Panette & Timerra ]

“Boss? Boss!? Oh, where could she have gone…” Though the two had entered the monastery together, it soon became clear to Panette that the acceptance process would not be the same for a commoner like herself and a crown princess. Still, the berserker made sure to search every inch of the monastery...save for the cathedral. The school itself being such a holy landmark was hard enough to stomach, Panette saw no reason why she should have to subject herself to other people’s piety when she knew for a fact the boss wouldn’t be there.

But now she was certainly in quite the pickle! No matter where she looked there was no sign of the crown princess…and that in itself was unusual. The bright eyed Timerra often left a trail behind her everywhere she went, and she is sure that their new home would be no different.

The ugly thought that something bad might’ve happen to her crosses her mind, and though it lasts only for a moment, it consumes her. What if someone laid a hand on her!? Panette could already feel her blood boil, her fists and teeth clenching as she stomped down the courtyard with the full intention of knocking some sense into whatever thug thought that touching the Princess of Solm was a good idea—

…Ah. Princess Timerra was fishing.

“Boss. I have been looking absolutely everywhere for you! I was beginning to think something had happened!” Still, Panette knows that Timerra would have been able to handle herself. She relaxes her posture slightly, looking over at whatever fish was in her basket. “It seems the fish of Fódlan have yet to learn whom they should fear now that you’ve arrived!”

@solmtinel

[nagargent]

Julia’s standard solution to any problem she can’t immediately solve is to head straight to the library. There’s a reason they say knowledge is power, after all. Research was crucial to understanding the heart of a matter and seeking a novel solution. Today’s…. surprise, certainly counted as quite the predicament indeed. Last night she had fallen asleep in her own bed, four pillows stacked up and lilac sheets soft and comforting. Yet that wasn’t where she found herself in the first light of morning.

The room she awoke to was — she’d hate to sound judgemental but rather untidy. A chaotic mess that surely only it’s inhabitant would be able to find their way around. Stretching out and looking in the mirror, Julia saw a face that she didn’t recognise. Even this person’s bed clothes were far more vibrant and colourful than anything she’d choose to wear herself. They’d probably leave her looking washed out and exhausted, but they pop against the warm skin of whoever’s body she’d accidentally snatched. An early riser, her first instinct was to panic and run to her father who would surely know what magic caused this and how to reverse it.

At least, she hoped he would. Once she’d calmed down, Julia made her way to the library, head down in case anyone she didn’t know recognised the body she was inhabiting. That wasn’t a conversation she felt ready to have at such an early hour. Still, her trip was fruitful and she was sure that a few hours in the books would, if not lead to a solution, at least point her in the right direction. As she headed back to the girl’s room, she was greeted with a bizarre sight. Herself. Banging her fist loudly against a door in the way she would never normally. It takes her a moment to realise that it’s not really her and unless something has gone very awry (which in fairness, it already had) that the girl knocking on the door was the same girl who’s body she had woken up inside.

“Hello? Is this your room?” Julia feels her heart pounding in her chest. Or more accurately, someone else’s heart in their chest. It’s uncanny speaking to oneself, stood right in front of you and she can’t help but worry that the girl will be furious and blame her. “I'm Julia, I think we need to talk. Shall we go inside for some privacy?”

"I'd offer to shake your hand but mine are a little full at the moment. Well, they're actually your hands, sorry."

record scratch. freeze frame. yep thats me

[thiefknight]

{mission task board 09/24; bow+1}

Absolute focus.

Total clarity.

This is life or death.

With careful aim, Zelkov pulls back the arrow and releases it, letting it zip through the air until it finds its mark: an unsuspecting Golden Deer student down the hall. As soon as it strikes, bright red blossoms across the student's clothing...

Bright red... paint.

Zelkov has never been particularly good with a bow, but he also isn't terrible at it. If nothing else, he has laser focus when he wants to, and something about this painted arrow battle has scratched a mental itch for him. Where he had first thought it was foolish and a waste of time, he is now fully devoted to the cause of covering the monastery and the other students with red paint in the name of the Black Eagles.

And although he may not be the best shot in the House, he is quite agile. He uses that agility now, to duck away from the student before any retaliation can be made, and to scale a nearby flight of stairs two at a time before disappearing into the shadows again.

There is literally nothing at stake in this "fight," and yet, it's all Zelkov can think about.

He hears another set of footsteps approaching nearby. A second student, or perhaps the first coming after him? After calming his breathing for just a moment, he whips out of the shadows to take aim at the student, once again coming face to face with someone from the Golden Deer.

"Nice try, but you can't sneak up on me," he says as he takes aim.

red vs gold

[peerlessscowl]

🥂 she considers it for a moment— talking to him again. even with their losses the other houses seem to joyously take in the feast. perhaps they could make up in this kind of atmosphere. staring at him from across the room, her lips purse tight and she turns to ignore him.

stubbornly, she can't bring herself to approach him. it still pisses her off thinking about how he'd dismissed her ideals as a princess— as solm's future queen.

it doesn't cross her mind that he can't possibly know how deep her troubles run.

Raven feels the prickle on the nape of his neck, a chill that he had become used to – bloodlust? No, he shook his head. Simply the press of so many bodies nearby. Still he, could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. 

Depositing his empty flute on a nearby tray, Raven turn on his heel, prepared to leave, to drag whoever owned the eyes out to where they could be taken out – and then he found them, the usually warm brown eyes focused on him, chilly and disdainful. 

Raven straightens, his eyes narrow, and when one of the wait staff walks by he grabs another flute of champagne and, without breaking eye contact, takes a single sip of his champagne. The message he hopes, is clear – I am not going anywhere. 

[losojos-decupido]

" brrrr! talk about nippy weather, huh, tims? "

upon exiting class this fine day, fogado nearly fell over backward when he was greeted with the sparkly-shiny face of His Big Sister Timerra. she'd been standing outside, just minding her own business, really, but just from seeing her fogado felt as though she had personally run up to him and hit him with the world's largest hammer.

needless to say, he was very, very happy to see her.

and when the solm sibbies meet, adventure is sure to follow; not long after righting himself, fogado had insisted the pair go on a hike to get the blood pumping and catch up on the goings-on. classic plan! classic stuff! they get to wander, fogado packs some dried meat for timerra to chew on. win!

but what is decidedly un-win is when the trail they're on is inexplicably hit with a snowstorm unlike anything fogado could have predicted. last he checked, the weather was supposed to be fine! he was sure of it!

snow doesn't lie, and fogado wastes no time quickly ushering timerra somewhere the blizzard can't actively beat on them. now the two of them sit under cover of fallen trees, fogado occupied with starting a fire. the wood is damp and hard to ignite, but can he call himself a wanderer if he doesn't know how to navigate around a little wet tree bark?

he laughs to timerra about the cold, all the while focusing intently on his task so the shivers that tense his muscles don't break out. " hey, i think there's a blanket in one of the bags, " he says over his shoulder. " go ahead and bundle up while i get this fire started, 'kay? "

@solmtinel

a hand for the queen

toa anniversary board: heavy armor +1

[peerlessscowl]

hibiscus :   how does your muse view the gentler ,   daintier things in life ?   as things worth preserving   &   caring for ,   or things only bound to wither   &   disappear ?

(@solmtinel and @luminousrider who asked the same)

Popular question for Raven, and it's easy to see why. With his background and character conceit, it would be real easy to assume that Raven is a follower of the Survival of the Fittest ethos, and from the rough exterior that he throws up one might assume that he's disdainful of soft things, or one to be disappointed by their transient nature.

But this couldn't be further from the truth.

Before we dive into his background and supports, I want to point out a detail in his character creation: his name. Raymond as a name (pointed out by Lilina in their first thread) means "protector", specifically "protecting hands". Odd name to give to a character who only wants revenge, right?

Well, let's look at it. (Cut for length)

What does he want revenge for? His family. It seems straightforward enough. But we must dig a little further - the fall of House Cornwell was precipitated by allegations of embezzlement which had the house dissolved and removed from the Lycian League, and ultimately led to the suicide of his mother and father (and presumably others). Due to the shame from such a scandal, different characters seem to have slightly different stories, and in the confusion the story Raven got was that his family was framed for political gain, taken advantage of for their kindness.

(This turns out to be half true, as we learn from Oswin that Marquess Cornwell took on the debts of those in his march, and was so buried under the debts that he tried to steal funds from the League to cover it. Again, the theme of a protector who is willing to dirty his own hands to spare others.)

So he sees the dissolution of his house not only as a political ploy, but of a stronger house removing a weaker house, and this drives him to fury.

But that seems mighty personal, doesn't it. That doesn't necessarily prove anything. So let's look at his conversations with those that are weaker and softer than him - Lucius, Priscilla, and Rebecca.

In his Lucius supports we see Raven at his most volatile, which is an interesting detail that I've discussed before, but we also see him at his most tender. He starts each of these supports with a question that many with illness (chronic, mental or otherwise) are familiar with: how are you today? Innocuous until you look at the phrasing - still under the weather? No fits today? He is keeping a watchful eye on Lucius, knowing that he is of a weaker constitution than himself, and checks in regularly.

But that's his best friend. How about someone else? Priscilla is someone that he lost quite young (when he was 9 and she was 6), and it is clear that he still loves her a great deal despite the time and distance that separated them. He remembers clearly times when they were young children, and indeed only joins the army at her behest - and yet their support chain is another instance of Raven being particularly aggressive. You are planning something dangerous she says - I don't want you getting involved he says. He misses her so dearly, but knows that proximity to him is likely to get her injured or worse - and yet in the end, he would abandon all else rather than his baby sister.

But okay, that's his sister. He's allowed to be a little biased. What about a stranger? How about Rebecca? Rebecca's conversation with Raven is one of my favorites because it emphasizes his softest characteristics. She accidentally wakes him from a nap because she cannot string her bow correctly, and rather than chastise her, he takes the responsibility on himself - and asks her to do the same moving forward. And when she thanks him, he opens up to her, although indirectly, which causes her to break into tears - which, most importantly, he doesn't flinch away from. He doesn't get uncomfortable, he doesn't scold her - he acknowledges that she is soft, that she is still a child (and perhaps with the implication that she deserves to keep being a child).

Raven is not a soft man. His world and his circumstances have not allowed him to be. But he will fight tooth and nail to ensure that everyone else gets their chance at softness, because that is something that other people deserve.

[blaiddllodi]

Dimitri was accused of being a lot of things, but naïve was not amongst his sins. Indeed, with one of his closest friends being Sylvain Jose Gautier, he could not afford to be off his guard for even the slightest moment, lest shenanigans abound.

And yet, he had. He had taken his eyes off of his friend for a moment, and the singular blunder had left Dimitri on his own, surrounded by a flock of young men and women in attire that was certainly designed to tempt - someone, perhaps, old fashioned though some of the costumes were - and with a predisposition to serve.

Perhaps that was the appeal, perhaps that was why Sylvain had dragged him here to begin with - oh, when he got his hands on him - but the longer Dimitri sat at the neatly decorated table, the more his only temptation was attempting to make himself much smaller than he truly was and to disappear into a hole in the ground.

The sound he made at his name was coupled with what might have been a flinch, and he forced himself to plaster a polite smile onto his face and turn to face she who had called him.

"A-ah," he chuckled, raising a hand to rub at the back of his head. "I…was here with someone, but it seems that…ahem, it does seem that I am quite alone." He said it in the tone of a man realizing that his allies had fled the battle, and that he was to face the charge by himself.

He inclined his head, some small relief at the acknowledgement. "It, ah - you're correct, it is not my, er, usual preference. Not to say that anything is wrong with it!" Hands raised to wave off any offense, spotting the young lady's uniform, marking her as employed. "I just…I don't believe I am the target audience for something like this."

1-800-MAID commercial jingle — dimitri & timerra

[pridelessdaydreamer]

This girl–!

Linhardt wasn’t unfamiliar with super-fans of combat (by Sothis, Caspar was one, and that’s his best friend), but this girl? He doesn’t know how to describe that attack as anything but straight-up insane.

“If whatever that was was the result of ‘pride’,” — he achingly gets up from where he’d been graciously knocked over , — “I’d rather be an aimless wanderer forever.”

Linhardt counters!

Roll [1d20]: 20 + 0 = 20. Crit!

Timerra HP: 3/5

Linhardt recovers 2 HP! (3/5)

He doesn’t know where that accuracy come from, but with the flash of light Nosferatu emits, Lin quickly bolts off, putting space between himself and his attacker.

(And just one more strike for good measure.)

Linhardt attacks Timerra with [Nosferatu] from range!

Roll [1d20]: 1 + 0 = 1. Miss!

Timerra HP: 3/5

“Actually, you know what? Pretend that didn’t happen.”

Then the boy runs off as if that could save him from this girl.

The Battle of the Eagle and Lion, huh...?

Linhardt knew that it was a big deal and all, but once the battle began, he made no real effort to find any of the enemy. Actually, he completely intended to go off and take a nap somewhere, at the very most healing from a distance.

(Of course, then he ran into someone, and they just happened to not be an Eagle.)

Might as well pretend to be invested.

Linhardt attacks Timerra with Nosferatu! Roll [1d20]: 5 + 0 = 5. Barely Hit! (0 ATK + 0 MAG = 0 DMG)

The 'attack' goes wildly off course, and Linhardt can't help but sigh.

"Well, you can't say I didn't try." He raises his arms to make himself a big target.

"Go on then. It's your turn now."

oh man this was exciting. while she wasn't super proud of the golden deer— least enough to go out in a blaze of glory for them— she loved a good fight as much as anybody else did. (except maybe diamant. that guy was crazy about battling.)

[ timerra rolls to counter with killer lance, 3, miss! ]

she braces herself for dark magic to descend upon her, instinctually holding the length of her lance in front of her. but nothing comes. she hadn't even tried to dodge and the guy had missed.

[ timerra rolls to attack with killer lance, 19, crit! 4 damage— linhardt 1/5HP left ]

"hey, cmon! where's the pride for your house huh?" she taunts, turning instantly to an offensive stance. "let's at least have some fun, mr. black eagle!' she grins, planting the blade of her lance into the ground to support the leap she takes at linhardt, kicking him square in the gut. solm's princess lands gracefully, then drives the butt of her lance into him as well without even a second of warning.

[bxldrsdraumar]

It wasn't the first time Sigurd had braved the elements for the sake of the monastery's larders. The food shortage was a problem, and he was of exactly the hardy constitution and skillset needed to relieve some of the pressure – he already ran quite warm, but more and more lately it seemed as though the cold scarce bothered him, and his stamina and general strength were rather greater than the average knight on their best day – so he was happy to lend his services whenever they were needed. 

Unfortunately, just as he and the rest of the knights had become comfortable with these tasks, learning the temperament of the animals and the woods around them, so too, it seemed, did the wood and the animals begin to adapt to their presence. 

Sigurd sighed lightly, his breath curling steam with his disappointment as he saw the buck dance off into the white away from them, streaking the ground with a delicate trail of red as it went – straight into a den of wolves. 

It seemed that the buck thought that he might take his chances with the lesser of two evils. 

Sigurd cocked a brow, listening as his young charge spoke, his lips rising into an indulgent grin as she finished. "Perhaps," he said, kindly, "If our intention were merely to survive the wilderness, that would be the soundest plan – but it is not. Our aim is to gather food to bring back to the monastery, and that is what we must be prepared to do. It is not merely ourselves we are trying to feed, but dozens and more mouths. 

"If it is your life that you fear for, worry not – I am rather old hat at this business," he added, grin turning to a smirk, before he began to move once more, through the snow at a fair, loping pace after their quarry. 

sigurd no swiping

[sayhwaet]

Beowolf considered himself to be steady in the saddle, a solid hand on the pommel of any warhorse or racing mount, and he'd had his fair share of experience with all breeds, and shapes, and sizes. Made life difficult if you couldn't get the upper hand on such a huge tract of land as the Agustrian countryside, and made it easier to turn tail and book it if you were familiar with all kinds of mounts. 

None o' that flying shit, though. That turned his stomach. 

So when he'd arrived at the monastery and found its stables well stocked and filled with not just horses of all shapes and sizes, but also a variety of animals primed for riding, he'd had a grand ol' time touring about and making himself acquainted. 

He could not help himself when he laughed at the prospect of riding a wolf, and had poked his head in on a recent seminar, listening to the pros talk about these feral beasts the same way he'd seen fancy men talk to their horses. But, oh, the difference in stature was clear, and it seemed to him, watching the beasts move, that these things could book it in terrain that he'd ever only dreamed of. 

As he approached for the follow-up seminar, he didn't suppose he could be too terribly surprised that attendance had dropped dramatically. 

"Some wacky shit, ain't it?" He said with a grin to the dark skinned woman rubbing the ruff of a wolf. As it clicked that she was to be the day's instructor, he whistled, low and appreciative. "You ride these things where you're from? Hat's off, girl." 

potentially deadly wolf lessons

[losojos-decupido]

fogado is very good at not letting himself be touched if he doesn't want to be. a friendly dodge, swift turn of the shoulder in or away, a shrug that pulls arms close or twists the self just enough. it's a natural ability, and one he pulls off quite well.

the exception to all of this is timerra. she can grab him better than what you pay to see in a brodian arena. acckkkkkkk. " buglgrgpth!! " fogado yelps in surprise as he's yanked back behind their cover.

see, the issue is that she's not supposed to notice when fogado puts himself out on a limb for her. he's supposed to be so seamless in his task that she just keeps on with her life---like clearing gravel from a path or building a bridge under her feet. it's already a partial error that she's caught on, but honestly, he was doomed the moment she asked about the second blanket. ugh, what would dad say to him about this...?

" tims, we can't just sit around and wait for the blizzard to pass. " fogado heaves a big, dramatic sigh---the smile he wears remains on his chilly cheeks. " we've got to make a fire at the very least. just huddling won't be enough for what we're wearing. just lemme go scrape up some stuff to burn; i pinky promise it won't take long, 'kay? "

a hand for the queen

toa anniversary board: heavy armor +1

[thiefknight]

He manages to dodge her second arrow, but only just barely, and it whizzes past his head so closely that he's sure there must be gold paint in his hair now. Ah well--nothing he can't recover from.

"What makes you like the Golden Deer so much, anyhow?" he calls toward her. He is genuinely curious, but more than that, he's trying to distract her. Get her thinking about something else so that he can sneak up on her. As he speaks, he begins very slowly making his way around the pillars, looking for the one she is hiding behind.

For all his lifetime of practice in stealth techniques, however, he hasn't learned his way around this place yet at all. Nor has he had much chance to scout ahead, with everyone painting each other with arrows all day. Unfortunately, this makes him extremely vulnerable to her as he whips around a pillar he is certain is the correct one, only to find the space as empty as all the others.

"Where did you go..."

red vs gold