#unfxllenone

[fanfaire]

WhoWhatWhere: Scene 2 You’re an army instructor trying to get your soldiers to fall in line, but this one clown doesn’t seem to get it…

The kameras whir to life, the stage lights flare, and Lumine has to bite back the smile she wants to don so badly at seeing Furina onstage. It seems very natural to find her here -- as much so as it had been to find her behind the director's seat when the Kamisatos had paid their visit -- but in a way that is actually fun this go around. You know, without the weight of a nation's livelihood on its back!

Furina has no lack of creativity, and though Lumine feels a bit weirdly about having to be in a position where she chides another for the second time, the show must go on.

"-- and when you are out there, in the heat of battle, you never know what you'll face. A second is all it takes for someone to turn the tides on you." Serious, diginified, severe. Lumine calls upon the memory of the Millileth for this particular performance. Her gaze sweeps over the line of 'cadets,' expression set with a serious furrow and frown combo, arms strictly at her sides. Her march is even, paced.. "So I expect you all to take this seriously --"

And halts, in front of Furina.

"-- including you. Do you know how to be part of cohesive unit, soldier? I hope you didn't come here thinking this is fun and games."

prompt : you're very excited for your first day of clown school... !

OF EVERYONE SHE MIGHT BE PAIRED WITH, it seems some machination of fate⠀(⠀should such things prove true⠀)⠀had ordained it be teyvat's wayfaring traveler once again. appeared at the helm of some comet star at the eve of disaster, destined——it seemed——to untangle all ; and only after their summary departure come the flood.

even five-hundred-year instinct does not save her muscles entirely from locking for a brief moment in reluctance and regret, but it is five-hundred-year instinct that relaxes them again and directs her again like muscle memory to the solace of the present moment.

all these things could come later. now, she was not furina, and that blonde familiar face not the star-bound lumine, but other figures worlds away entirely. the other was one that she might smile at——harmlessly, vapidly——in the character of ' estelle ' imagined for flashing bulbs of light, who thought nothing of weaknesses and rancors and shortcomings, and only instead of a grandly misplaced hope for the future.

it is this smile she levels now at her instructor——though she certainly didn't seem to be dressed as a clown, but perhaps they didn't get to wear the costumes until later in the schooling?——a little nervously, a little unsure. eyes flick back and forth to the imaginary others in line with her as though to seek affirmation, or at least a laugh.

"s—soldier? ehe. . . " she titters in a voice entirely unlike her own, girlish and breathy, just shy of nasal. "o-of course i don't think it's all just fun! i—i'm here to learn, honest!"

[mrch7th]

[MAKE-A-MELUSINE]

"Hey, excuse me--" A tentative greeting. When the pink-haired girl glances her way, Lumine's offering an apologetic smile, holding the little Melusine doll she's been working at in a careful grasp. "I just noticed your hands were free, and I could use a little assistance, if that's alright?"

And what an interesting doll it is! A brown and white ensemble, and long blond hair... familiar to her, but not others.

"I'm trying to give him a braid, but -- I think I'm being a little too rough? The little wig keeps popping off." She laughs, fingers playing with the hair that most melusines certainly wouldn't bother with. It's important enough to her to keep, though.

"Could you just hold the head steady, while I fix the hair? It'll only take a second!"

“huh—? oh!”

it's one of those little melusine dolls that almost everyone seems to have. march 7th's already gotten a few to give as gifts herself. she takes the doll without much need for prompting, an easy, “yeah, sure!” chirped as she turns the back of it toward the stranger, grip shifting to hold the doll's head.

and look how cute it is! a braid sounds like a nice idea. march hadn't had to bother much with the hair of her own collection, considering that most of the crew of the astral express had short hair anyhow. “your doll is really cute,” march hums, eyes creasing as she smiles. “i made some for my friends too. is this one for yourself, miss?”

[dellarosula]

╰ ✧ ˖  @unfxllenone asked:

[STUNT DOUBLE]

Lumine glances over the edge of the airship, where only open sea awaits. It glitters and shines as they float along, languid as the current being followed, but there's certainly still a breeze buffeting all aboard. She has to press a hand to her head to prevent her costume's hat from flying clean off; in that subtle glance towards Navia beside her, she wonders how many pins must usually be in the Demoiselle's own to keep it in place. At least the shot is simple: they'll both be taking a fall into the waters below. "Can't complain." She muses, under her breath to where their other filming companions can't hear. "Sure beats being shot off a cliff, doesn't it?"

A knowing look is afforded to her partner, smile soft at its edges. The stirring of the sea and whir of the engine that propels them along makes for a comforting harmony-- Navia has always loved the sound of the ocean coupled with the wind in her hair, how she can smell her father in the salt spray, hear the rumble of his laughter in the rolling waves.

"Absolutely," she agrees, fixing her hair behind her ear. "You know, not so long ago we had a scene just like this."

She hasn't so quickly forgotten the rush of fear, the feeling of a hand in hers and then its absence, the moment before nothing. Of course, this will hardly be so serious. Not that Navia intends to let the kamera believe that, in any case.

One of the handful that serve to be their company calls them to attention. Another smile is flashed to the Traveler before Navia's hurrying to take her place, back against the airship's side door. On cue, it will release and she will let herself fall towards the sea, arms outstretched so that she may catch that hand once more. Excitement glitters in her eyes as someone begins counting.

"See you at the bottom, 'kay?"

[feliscus]

quest objective :　lydie and lucian reminisce about the latter’s destroyed village and talk about the cruelty of the enemy. you are welcome to join their conversation, learn their stories, and whether you decide to try and temper their hatred or encourage it further is up to you.

“…but luckily, some soldier found me among the burning wreckage. i was brought here, given food, had my wounds healed… and here i am.”

“whoa. i knew they were scum, but to just casually burn a village like that? full of children and the elderly too? what kind of military target could you have possibly been?”

this is a place ravaged by war, but it has not been made quite real to lyney until this moment. people will live or die by his command—they already have. it is a burden he bears now as a prince and one he will carry later, too, for the hearth and all the children that call it home.

lucian shrugs. lydie spots them and waves. “hey, it’s his highness and his companions! you’re just in time. come here, you’ve got to listen to this!”

the smile rises to his lips reflexively once attention has been turned upon him, the wave returned as he draws closer to the pair. “lydie, lucian, hello. i hope we're not interrupting. you both seemed like you were having a lively conversation.” here, his smile turns teasing. “now, i'm always happy to lend an ear, but this isn't anything that's going to get me into hot water for knowing, is it?”

his gaze flicks toward lucian, head tilting. there's a hint of concern in his eyes. with less teasing and more kindness, he continues, “are you sure you're comfortable telling this story in front of me? i don't need to be here if you don't want me to be. we were only passing by.” lyney heard enough. the village had burned; people had died. he should have been the one to stop it.

lydie grins, waving her hand rather nonchalantly. “nonsense, your highness. ain’t like the enemy’s cruelty is something new to you, is it?”

lucian sighs, although there is a rueful smile on his face. if lydie's cheer has lifted his spirits, than lyney is glad. he offers lyney a light bow before continuing. “it’s alright, your highness. i mean, ain’t like my village was the first… can only pray it’ll be the last. you didn’t see it, you mean?…” he pauses, but then a realization seems to dawn on him, answering his own question. “i imagine they protect you from sights like that. maybe it’s best if you don’t know then.”

lydie’s smile fades somewhat as she shakes her head. “eh well, he’s here already and heard a part of it, so i don’t think it makes that much of a difference…” he does not miss the glance she casts toward the traveler. does she think lumine will stop her? she chuckles nervously. “o-of course, if it’s okay, haha…”

and why wouldn't it be? but before he can interject with the question, miss acheron speaks. his gaze flicks to miss acheron curiously—from their few encounters, he's not quite sure what to make of her just yet, but she's certainly interesting.

“war begets cruelty, regardless of who the enemy is.” she lingers to the side, inspecting weapons and armor strewn about. clearly, however, still paying attention. “as for your experiences…  i can understand, to a degree. it’s not particularly my place to interject… but my offer to lend an ear is yours to have. i've… seen plenty in my time. lost people close to me. it never gets easier.”

and perhaps she, too, has known this world's cruelty.

lydie and lucian are wrong, after all. because lyney is not really a prince, and there had been no one to protect him. he has faced life's horrors with his head held high, his sister his only companion. they had to protect each other and themselves; there had been no one else. and it has left him with much that he cannot unsee.

but they both look at acheron as she speaks. lydie nods, and lucian’s rather forlorn expression relaxes a hint, the pitiful smile just a little bit less forced than a moment ago.

he is not plain old lyney here, but a prince that his people look to. and those words are best heard from a mercenary who would understand better than royalty ever could. he shakes his head. “no, it's all right. what sort of ruler would i be if i turned away from what's happening to my people? your safety is my responsibility—i will not flee from suffering simply because i have the privilege to.” and perhaps it is not just a question he asks himself for this role, but for the title he will one day inherit.

lyney offers a gentle smile. “if you will tell me, i will listen. please, go on.”

again, a glance at lumine as though for permission, and lyney wonders if they think she is somehow his keeper. but lucian speaks, and lydie does too when he is finished, exclaiming that their enemies must pay.

as promised, lyney merely listens attentively until both are done, and then sighs. “we should have accounted for villages in their path when driving them off...” he mutters under his breath. and though he hadn't really been there several weeks ago, it is a fault he will take responsibility for nonetheless. he nods briefly in acknowledgement. “i know words mean little, but i am sorry, lucian. i'm afraid i cannot do anything for your village, but i will take it into account going forward.”

and miss acheron speaks too. “i’m sorry,” she offers, and moves to take a seat nearby, carefully laying her sword across her lap. “atrocities as such deserve a punishment… but not by kind hands such as yours. a person’s eyes often tell a story of their soul—yours retain a spark that can’t be ignited again once it’s extinguished.”

to lydie, lyney can only offer a dimmed smile. he has never been much of a proponent of violence—he may be a child of the hearth, but he is a magician first and foremost, not a fighter. he cannot completely fault her for it, but he will still steer the conversation from it. he clears his throat. “will you tell me how you came to join our army, lydie?” an apologetic smile. “i'm sorry, it's something i should already know. i try to make the effort to remember everyone's names, but it's more difficult to remember everyone's stories too. but i will still try. it is the least of what i owe you for pledging your life to my cause.”

quest start!　 @octoboltflash & @unfxllenone

　🌢　if something must burn.

flame insignia: sword of fate　⸻　starring :　acheron, lumine, & lyney

[incitomniaveritas]

[PROP DESIGN]

"Hey--" A soft interjection to make herself known; Lumine stands nearby the stranger, offering space as he continues to work on yet another prop for the filming. It feels like she's seen him running around all day. "You've been pretty hard at work, haven't you?"

She gestures forward with either hand, one holding a latte, the other a water bottle.

"I thought some fuel might be nice. Just checking in on people, you know? Take your pick. There's more where that came from, if you need!"

Overture 2024 一

He's hands deep within a stereo when he hears a feminine voice call beside him. When he cannot immediately place it in any box of familiarity, he looks up to identify her. His unmoved eyes look upon her with scrutiny before realizing she has no machine or trinket for him to fix. While his expression did not sharpen, he's still busy within the confines of the ousia-powered device, so his face at least relaxes somewhat.

Her clothes are not like the locals, but she carries herself like she's sure of herself. Her claim to have seen him around could be a testament to that, or his prowess on doing anything except unwind.

He's on the ground, on his knees no less, so to take her offer he has to sit back on his feet in a squat. It's as comfortable as he can get to reach for her offered drink of water. "Appreciated, miss." He unlatched the water to take a deep swig of it, and caps it again to speak. "I've been nonstop around Fontaine to fix matters all day, yes. I cannot deny I've done quite a lot. Deprivation will get me nowhere, I concur."

He takes another swig as he listens, then ponders. He knows the city is full of interesting characters, all the way from a popular officer to another plane superstar, so he keeps his involvement short. "But I cannot take you up on your offer to leave just yet. I've been commissioned to fix this, so it's well worth my while. If you can bide一" he looks inside the stereo again, "一ten minutes, I will take you on your offer for something to dine on."

[crowfeatherd]

”Renaud…?” Moze parrots in a near-whisper, attention at last dragging from the disappointment of the table’s winnings (or, for him, losses) to the golden-haired security guard, only then recalling the name of his character on the cue cards. By now, the others around the table have turned to look at him, some smiling, some goading, all of them displaying their piles of chips as if in some victorious taunt. Moze has always hated being the center of attention, in character or not, but what would an experienced gambler do here, he wonders. He is neither a gambler nor experienced in these settings.

He stands up then, stool scraping against the wood floor.

”It was a bad play,” he says and crosses his arms, bowing his head. “The odds are less than half.”

He’d counted the black and red segments before he’d delivered his line. He’s no gambler, but he knows basic probability at least. Pale eyes cut sidelong at the smug croupier, as if substituting the dagger he was not allowed to bring on set. Then he throws an equally sharp look at Lumine.

“There won’t be a next time. Goodbye.”

And in a swirl of smoke and ashen feathers, Moze disappears.

@unfxllenone

High Stakes, No Fun

Who, What, Where - Scene 1

[iustitians]

Every once in a while, even Neuvillette decides that he not only needs a break, but also deserves one. It is not in his nature to ever complain in excess, so in the vast majority of situations, these woes remain unvoiced, tucked away at the bottom of his heart (and in many cases, washing over Fontaine in the form of rain) until he can find the peace of mind to rid himself of them entirely. And today, after several instances of incorrectly submitted paperwork, three trials and one culprit dragged away forcefully by the Gardes while screaming and hurling insults the entire Opera's way... yes. A break would be nice.

And yet even in spite of that, if asked, he would reject the idea that this bothers him in any way, explaining that this is simply his duty. His is the task to judge the people who made mistakes, and one day his will be the task to judge the gods - and what are gods if not people who make mistakes at a much larger scale?

It is best if he enjoys his breaks while he can still take them at all.

Thus does he, after settling all the necessary affairs, head out for a walk. Where he intends to go, that is a mystery to all of Fontaine, one he has maintained for five centuries now. No matter how much time passes and how stubborn the journalists of this land may be, they have never figured out his favored paths.

Today's destination turns out to be the calm and serene Loch Urania. Although the depths of Erinnyes may sometimes still display instability at times, and thus he continues to formally discourage journeying into and exploring this place, the three lakes are now as peaceful as they should be, thanks to a recent intervention by Pahsiv. As well as someone else he knows, from what he knows. He wonders, not without amusement, if she knows that he knows.

Speaking of which,

Just as he approaches the lake north of the Weeping Willow, he pauses as a tremor shakes the earth, the vibrations clear under his feet. That is strange - he has not sensed any anomalies in this area for a while now. Thoughtful, he accelerates his pace, intending on checking out the source of the disturbance.

It is not before he finds it, and the expression of mild concern is quickly replaced by a light smile and an ever so amused huff as he watches her.

"Ah, Traveler," he speaks, coming closer. "Good afternoon. I see you are hard at work of... some sort, today."

What Is Shattered, Still Remains || Lumine + Neuvillette

[fanfaire]

AH! NOW THAT WAS CERTAINLY something she⠀(⠀estelle, that is⠀)⠀would leap at the chance to answer. chest puffs out, shoulders straight and back as chin tilts with pride——ironically, for a moment looking the very picture of the dutiful soldier she has, perhaps, if the instructor's word was any indication, thus far failed to be.

"i've always wanted to help people!" she crows, brimming with verve and energy, jumping at the chance to declare herself before her fellow clowns-in-training and have the chance to shine. "but i've always believed that it doesn't have to just be about handing out food to the needy or curing someone's illness. not everyone is made for things like that. . . "

she trails off a moment, pausing heavily——enough for a proverbial audience to understand: this isn't merely hypothetical.

"for some of us, the best we can do is put a smile on someone's face, or make them laugh. or give a crying kid a balloon. and——that's okay! that should be celebrated too!"

"erm. . . " right? suddenly, she looks around to the imagined others in line, conjuring the peripheral stare of a row of eyes, then finally, hesitantly, to the instructor's feet, not quite brave enough to meet that gaze and the potential of neutrality or disinterest looking back at her. maybe it wasn't that unique after all. suddenly, coming out of her mouth, none of it sounded as impressive as it had in her head. "at least, i think so. maybe it's not much."

Clowning Around

GH Who, What, Where || Scene 2: Furina + Lumine

[octoboltflash]

“That I have,” Lydie nods to the General’s words, her smile returning to her face to some degree, now that full permission to continue the topic has been given. She then turns to Lyney, who had posed the question. In spite of the topic at hand, the hint of cheer remains on her features in spite of the heavy subject matter. It’s pretty clear it’s a coping mechanism. “It’s alright, Your Highness! There’s like thousands of people here, you can’t be expected to remember everyone’s stories. But if you wanna know… Well, I lived in the capital, and I was there when it was taken,” she begins. “As our soldiers were retreating, my parents pushed a bow and quiver into my hands and practically threw me outta the house. I obviously didn't see it in person, but I know from some refugees I met later that they were executed - as was my Willy. We were suppos’ta marry next month… But that ain’t happenin’ now, unless I happen to join him on the other side. And I ain’t doing that until I return some more of what I got.” The last sentence is spoken with more anger, every word filled with hatred - it’s only with her next breath that she manages to release some of it again. Lucian stares at her, wide-eyed. Clearly, he’s heard this for the first time. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “That’s awful.” Lydie shrugs lightly. “It’s okay… Well, no it isn’t, but y’know what I mean. Besides - I know suffering ain’t a competition, but I still find what happened to you kinda worse. I mean, at least the capital was a military objective, y’know? Your folks were hunted down for sport.” Lucian doesn’t respond for a longer while. It seems like he cannot find the proper words. He then looks back at Acheron, his feelings difficult to recognize behind his expression. “Does issuing punishment like this hurt the one who does it, as well?” He asks.

Her reason for drawing her sword has remained singular-- past, present, or future, that fact will not change. A weapon is meant only for one purpose: to take a life. Regardless of its wielder, steel cares not for that which it slices. The first cut is always the hardest. It's a line that you've crossed that you can never return from, and the moment her blade tore through the flesh of another, everything within her mind remained in an eerie stillness. Her odachi's weight suddenly became absurdly heavy, as if she was holding not just a sword, but the burden of something that could never be taken back. She didn't know when the reality eventually settled in. Maybe it was in the moments Izumo splintered into fragments, or in the hazy memories of dark figures approaching in droves, seemingly never-ending. Perhaps it was in the seconds where her friends crumpled one after another, left with nothing but the silence and the ringing in her ears. The blood on her hands was not her enemy's alone. It was hers, too. The remnants of innocence, the flames stomped out underneath the weight of loss. The weight of grief. The weight of the way strikingly blue eyes had stared in her direction, Acheron finding herself never able to forget how they looked before the life faded from them: Scared. Confused. Not ready for this to be the end. White hair stained red from the carnage of the battlefield, a scar to be carried on the jagged surface of her very soul. A gloved hand is raised to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes falling shut for a brief moment as she mulls over the gravity of the man's question. It's an answer that's too long to express, an answer that tears a jagged cut through the center of her chest because she knows. She's lived it. Over and over and over again. "... It does," Acheron's voice remains quiet, low, and nearly carrying a hint of a defeated edge. "With every life, you lose a bit of yourself. It doesn't matter if you deem them to deserve it or not." Lithe fingers drag over the surface of her sword's saya, pausing as she carefully weighed her words within her mind. Her enemies have always fallen before her, and it nearly feels hypocritical to speak in the way that she is. "It doesn't matter who's struck down. In the end, they have loved ones as well. Someone will be grieving-- whoever is left behind in the aftermath. A reality you're both living." "Protect the ones that matter. For those that have touched your heart, keep them as close as you can. The rest is irrelevant. Hunting your enemy for the sake of revenge... These deaths cannot bring back that which you've lost." Acheron sucks in a sharp breath, exhaling in something that sounds almost like a breathy laugh. "If that were the case, all of my friends would have returned to me and I wouldn't be forgetting their voices more with every day that passes."

@feliscus @unfxllenone

　🌢　if something must burn.

flame insignia: sword of fate　⸻　starring :　acheron, lumine, & lyney