#vedrskati

[gallantgautier]

🤗 he's curious about the smile on the girl's face that passes by. he remembers her, specifically remembers the way her expression sank when he'd returned her exam to her earlier in the morning. what had turned her spirits around? he finds the source not some steps later: sylvain, standing with a sign and a broad smile. the realization brings a small one to sety's face as well. ❝ i can't accept, ❞ he's quick to say with a gesture of refusal, ❝ but... the idea is a good one. people need it. ❞

Free Hugs! - Accepting!

This is the second time he’s been struck dumb, unable to do much more than blink, as Sety says something that makes him want to shrug it off and simultaneously bask in the warmth of it it.

People need it? Need him? The idea is almost laughable, and yet...

The former wins out. With a sheepish smile, he rubs at the back of his neck. “Ha, nah. I didn’t do anything special.” What he needs to do, and fast, is shift the focus away from himself. Balancing his sign on his shoulder, he reaches out and takes Sety’s hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Since you can’t accept.” Sylvain says with a laugh, able to meet Sety’s eyes at last now that he’s pushed any thoughts that he’s doing something worthwhile out of his head. “You keep up the good work too.”

[vonvestra]

Queen: What kinds of things (e.g. objects, hobbies, etc.) does your muse enjoy that others wouldn’t expect them to?

Masks Torn Free | accepting

Also asked by @theindigoflirt

Queen: What kinds of things (e.g. objects, hobbies, etc.) does your muse enjoy that others wouldn’t expect them to?

Hubert loves board games. Granted, they’re usually strategy games, but the fact that he would waste any time having fun should be a surprise to most people. Board games used to be the way he passed the time when he was a child, especially during the years that Edelgard was gone, and he grew adept at adapting the rules to suit solo play, since rarely did he have anyone else to play with. Before their falling out, his father taught him a handful of games that they would play together on occasion, and then Hubert taught those games to Edelgard and her siblings. He sometimes played with the servants as well and they would teach/give him new games, but it wasn’t often. Most of the time, he played alone.

He gets very competitive when he plays, but not in the sense that he rages when he loses. Instead, he’ll challenge the same person over and over again until he beats them, which can be exhausting or annoying for his opponent. Edelgard is no exception, but whether it be from distraction or an unconscious desire for her to win, he ends up losing to her at most games.

He left his games behind when he came to the Officers Academy, thinking them more or less too childish or time-consuming. However, he’ll never reject a gift.

Another thing that one might find surprising is that Hubert does, secretly, enjoy formal dance. This is based on the subtle tone of excitement he has when you select him for the White Heron Cup in-game. It’s not really a hobby or an avid interest though, so he knows the basics - as all nobles do - but his skills are quite rusty. He doesn’t really have many opportunities to practice, and he doesn’t think himself elegant or graceful at all. But he does enjoy it, like he secretly enjoys the thought of flying on a pegasus, and looks for excuses to dance with Edelgard. He almost always paints it as an obligation though, rather than a desire, so that he can avoid criticism for his lack of ability. He doesn’t want anyone to believe that he has any confidence in his gracelessness.

[meek-miko]

UNHALOED ANGELS BREAK SOFTLY IN THEIR DESCENT. what does your muse think of martyrdom? is it something they think is, at times, necessary to move people to action or is it something they think is a needless waste of life?

Let it be known that this question / topic would give Sakuraa hellish case of cognitive dissonance. The rosette is a healer ( a shrine maiden even! ) and therefore, wants topreserve life as much as possible. She knows that deaths are necessarysometimes – in war, in pursuing the future, in protecting those you love – but shedoesn’t think anyone should make themselves suffer or die in order to motivateothers. She’s had nightmares of Ryoma knelt surrounded by enemies, dying by hisown hand for the sake of those he loves. And the idea makes her stomach turnwith disgust and horror.How can you do that to the people you claim to love in a bid to move them toaction? Leaving them carrying that pain without you? Even if the act causesthem to band together, there will always be a space where you are meant to be thatwill go on being empty into eternity. A reminder of what was lost. Some mightfind that inspiration. Sakura doesn’t. She hates it.Don’t tell her that someone died for the love of their people and cause. She’llget upset. She’ll never tell you she’s upset, of course – that requires a levelof spine that she hasn’t unlocked yet – but if you’re perceptive, you’ll noticethat she’s withdrawn from you a little. She doesn’t want to get close to you ifyour great big plan is to die to rally, rather than live.…But Sakura herself has no problem dying if it meant that it would benefitpeople. Heck, it doesn’t even have to be people. It can be a person and she’dbe fine with it. Not because she thinks she could inspire anyone that way butbecause Sakura doesn’t hold much value in her own life. She fights to livebecause she’s the healer and if she dies, that could mean others fall too. Shefights to live because, even if she can’t see any worth in herself, there arepeople who would mourn for her—that’s not something she wants them burdenedwith. She understands how hypocritical that is, trust me, it’s another log on herfire of self-loathing.

[jehannanmage]

TO HAVE SEEN HOW FAR INFINITY CAN REACH. if your muse could ask any one question answered truthfully by any person in their life or some omnipotent being, what would it be and why? what do they hope the answer would be?

[ character tags meme ]

At his core, he’s gotten over it. It’s a thing of the past. He’s had his sister by his side, and then Gerik’s crew alongside her, and then Saleh, and then Ephraim and Eirika’s pals, and then Saleh again... and now, his friends at Garreg Mach.

And yet... somewhere deep, deeeeeeeep down...

He’d seek to ask his parents: why?

He’s not sure what he’d hope to hear, though. Is there a good reason for abandoning one’s children?

[damekingmaker-blog]

thunder only happens when it’s raining

starter for @vedrskati​!

Nanna was told to expect missions from the Church of Seiros as a student, but she hadn’t expected to be sent out on one so quickly. A sanctum was discovered in the Western Church, deep in the Kingdom of Faerghus. She spends most of the journey poring over maps of the Kingdom, books of their history, trying to understand. It helps, a little. Enough to get Nanna’s foot into the door of the sanctum with all the confidence of someone that knows exactly what they are doing.

And in a way, she does. The dark magic is immediately apparent, like a slap to the face, or the way cold air rushes through an open door on a winter day. The air here, it’s like it isn’t meant to be breathed. For a minute she’s back in Manster, in the dungeons waiting to be brought up to the arena, in the basement where the Loptous Church hid away like the nest of rats they were. Somewhere so dark, dank, and cramped–Nanna can only bear it for an hour until she is forced to excuse herself. 

The temple at Lake Teutates had been a place Nanna wanted to visit while she’s here, but not like this. It’s so cold in here, and she settles for leaning against one of the pillars of the entrance hall, her head pillowed by moss. Before she can relax, a second set of footsteps click behind her, forcing her to look back. Green hair. Familiar, kind eyes. “I’m fine, Sety,” she says before he can get a word in about how she ran out of the sanctum, or how she still looks tense. “I only need some fresh air.” Nanna presses her forehead against the smooth, cold stone, willing away the coming headache. Away from the sanctum, she tries to focus on this temple she is in. It’s cold in here, wet. The scent is clean, like fresh rain. Nanna takes a good, deep breath to steady herself. 

[dragon-kiddos]

DISCOUNT DRAGONSTONES: Buy One, Get One Free! (Closed: Kana and Sety)

Kana cannot say that the battle against Gricenchos was the toughest battle he’s ever faced, but it’s definitely up in the top five. Still, the fight against Anankos didn’t hurt him as badly as that stupid tiger had—at least he’s out of the infirmary, now! ... Not allowed to play too much yet, but still. It’s something.

Being relocated from the infirmary to his dorm room wasn’t exactly ideal. Sure, staying laid up in his bed instead of in the ones in the infirmary was definitely preferred, but he was still bored. With no one to watch over him, he was free to do as he wanted, within reason. Kana knew his limits and knew that for the most part, all he could do was take little walks around the monastery and chat with his friends for only a short time before he would get too tired and would have to retire for a nap. He could barely make flower crowns with his arm broken like this! (Though that didn’t stop him. They were just... less pristine than usual.)

He never expected to be robbed while napping under his favorite tree in the monastery. 

Seriously. Who robs a kid? An injured, sleeping kid, at that?

Still, Kana was naive, and while anyone else’s first thought may have been oh, my things disappeared while I was asleep, I’ve clearly been robbed, Kana’s first instinct was to believe he’d misplaced his precious dragonstone and the sword he carried at his side, despite the fact that he’d never lost his dragonstone before. (The sword was a different story.)

He knows the stone is gone the moment his eyes snap open—an unpleasant dream, no doubt caused by the separation. Uninjured arm pats around blindly at his chest and upon finding no familiar gem hanging under his scarf, panic starts to settle in his mind. Immediately does he shoot up and start to search the immediate area—

—and before long he’s hurrying around the monastery as quickly as he can, searching every last nook and cranny that he usually hangs out in for his dragonstone. Never once do the stares of the other students reach him. 

Until a recently-familiar voice finally does. 

“Oh! Mister Sety!” Had they not fought together against the stupid tiger, Kana probably wouldn’t have remembered his name—or even recognized him at all. “Have you seen, uh, a little green emerald on a cord anywhere? Or, um... my sword?”

@vedrskati

[yewfallen]

lost remnants

@vedrskati

 “ professor, ” faval calls, his brow quirking immediately after saying it. the word is strange on his lips, but he supposes he needs to exercise some respect for those in positions of power here.

classes have already ended, but the fighter lingers anyway. he pulls up a few paces in front of the knight, not waiting to see if he has the man's attention before he asks:

“ i want to learn a li'l bit of reason magic. ” he looks to him expectantly, a tinge of both caution and distrust alight in his eyes. “ ...so what do i have to do to get you to teach me? ” 

[crest-of-cethleann-blog]

Saintly Discussions || Flayn and Sety

The cathedral was always rather busy on Sunday's, though as it was the students only day off per week, it was no surprise to Flayn as she walked through the grand doors . It was the crowning jewel of Garreg Mach Monastery, a testament to the faith itself. The afternoon light streamed through the single stained glass window, bouncing from the gilded alter that stood in front of it. No matter how often she saw it, it gave Flayn a feeling of great peace and comfort. She had spent hours marvelling at the various decorations, or assisting where she might. As a student though, she found her time taken up by studies and lessons.Though she was hardly ungrateful for the lack of time that she had to practice. It just made the few moments she had for it, all the more impactful.

The follower turned student followed her usual path, giving a quick prayer to the Goddess before she took a quick right, a slight skip in her step as she entered the much smaller room that housed the statues of the saints. The room was lit with candles as opposed to glorious sunlight, the statues considerably less grand. It did not matter though, it was her most favourite part of the grounds. Mint eyes flickered throughout the room, Indech, Macuil, Cethleann, Cichol and.. a knight? Flayn blinked curiously, knights often did spend time in the cathedral but it was a man she did not recognise and she knew most of them, thanks to her brother. The surprise did not sway her inquisitive nature. He gazed up at the statues in front of them both, turned away from her.

"Good afternoon, I don't believe we've met- are you interested in the Saints?"

@vedrskati

[vonvestra]

kitsuneiisms​:

Haze, thick and disorienting, like a dream - unable to move or respond, only to look, to hear, to feel.

“Begone, wretch!”

Xander - Selkie’s head turns towards the sound, still unable to stand on her broken limbs. A direct hit - just what they needed. But the victory is short lived - the short burst of energy she gets as she sees the stampede behind him is only enough for her to clear the fog, to attempt to sit up and watch as the crown prince of Nohr falls.

They can’t afford to lose anyone else - not here, not now. Shaky paws dig into the dirt, determination holding her up where bones cannot. The pain cracks, shoots up her forelegs with each movement - but she can’t stop, won’t stop.

“…Heal!”

No sooner does the kitsune find solid ground than her comrade’s words ring out - and her magic as well. Soothing comfort finds Selkie’s wounds to close, discomfort as the magic washes over leads to relief - she can stand, she can move, she can fight!

A growl, then - sights focus on its chest, on that crest stone of all things. Was that how it controlled the beasts around it? So it was her new target.

A howl, another leap -

[Selkie rolls: 9. Beast Caveat - Miss!]

But Gricenchos is faster. So close, mere inches between her and that stone, yet the beast’s paws - she hadn’t kept an eye, hadn’t watched her surroundings as focused as she was. One swipe sent her reeling back the way she came, tails barely brushing against the stone on the way out.

So close. A landing without pain - she caught herself this time, keeping her momentum going into a run. Circle around, strike again. Watch for the others, watch for the beast.

Until she skids to a stop upon turning around, confusion plain on her face.

Where…

“Where’d everyone go?!”

Fog had rolled in when the sky was clear just moments ago - this was the same haze from before. Words now, gripping, tearing, shredding into bark, the weight threatening to break her branch. The whispers are all around, shadows in every direction.

“Kana? N-nino?”

No answer. The shades glare and judge, but they do not speak.

“…Hey! Someone, answer me!”

At first, there is nothing - Selkie had never felt fear before, but if the fox had to define the word to a feeling, perhaps it was this. Panic sets in - was this Gricenchos’ influence? Could she break free?

Was she dead?

“…Selkie!”

“That voice… it can’t be-”

“Selkie!”

“Daddy! Daddy, where are you?”

Kaden’s voice was unmistakable - it took no time at all for her to follow the shades, the mist beckoning forth until she nearly barreled her father over. Excitement soon turned sour, and a whimper as she nudged close.

“Daddy… what happened to you?”

He was even more wounded than she’d been - how was she hurt again? No matter, none of it mattered -

“They’re after us, Selkie. I… I told you they wouldn’t understand us. I can’t fight - you have to protect me.”

“They? Who…”

That’s right. She’d transformed in front of her allies - how foolish could she be?! This was her fault, they’d gone after her daddy now, he was hurt because of her. Why did she transform in the first place?

A memory emerges; patrolling the woods, a father’s cry - death by silver, narrowly avoided by his shield.

Fear - that’s right, that was the first time she ever felt fear. Her daddy saved her that time, all those years ago…

“Daddy… how are you here?”

[Selkie rolls: 1. Failure to resist.]

Kaden frowns, and opens his mouth to speak -

“No… never mind. It’s not important.”

Whipping around, the kitsune gets into a defensive stance, growling heavily. The shades turn, eyes focused on her once more - it was a ploy! A trick, get the two together and end them in one fell swoop.

“It’s my fault you’re in this mess, Daddy - I’ll make it up to you! I’ll protect you!”

One in particular stands out - standing in the back, a mage, most likely. Her eyes hone in -

“I won’t let you hurt my Daddy!”

[Selkie has set her sights on Soren!]

@vonvestra​

At last Mist and Nino had arrived, but it seemed that for every person they revived, another fell in their place. As wounded as the beast was, and as wide as the pool of green grew under its broken claws, it would not back down. A creature without an instinct to preserve its own life. Truly a killing machine.

The glimpse of the stone in its chest had told Hubert as much. The tiger - though by no means did it ever appear to be an ordinary beast - looked instead to be a manufactured one. His hunch had been correct.

But the screams of the battlefield rent his thoughts before they could drift too far toward what Edelgard faced in Sreng. The trees and underbrush offered little cover in the grand expanse of plainsland, but Hubert took quickly to the shade of one to recalculate his plans.

Were they risking their lives for a test? A mere plaything? Or was this a portent of disaster?

His eyes cut quickly to the left as that strange fox from before streaked past him toward the beast. But then it spun around with a snarl and a wild look in its eyes. While it may have been an ally before, it certainly wasn’t one now, and Gricenchos lifted its blood-streaked head as if in triumph of its own makeshift army.

A roar shook the heavens, scaring dark clouds of birds into the sky and scattering the pegasi that still circled above it. Even at a distance, Hubert flinched at the deafening sound, but he saw his chance. The beast had stretched so that the stone in its chest was visible between its outstretched forearms. Purple energy gathered around his hand again as he broke from his cover and crossed a flatland of corpses. A miasma spell would be fast enough, a quick strike at the weak point of that shield and—

Hubert’s attack: 4 - Miss

Gricenchos’ attack: 3 - Miss

Hubert dove to the ground, the orb of viscous poison not quite gathering the momentum it needed before it splattered ineffectually across the earth. At the same time, a hand axe planted firmly where he had been standing just moments ago. Followed by the wyvern and its rider sliding grooves into the ground some feet away. Too close.

“Sety!” He spied the mage nearby and quickly picked himself back up. “Quickly, while it’s still distracted!”

Hubert casts Rally Blessing/Dexterity on Sety

Next: @vedrskati

`` eye of the tiger » gricenchos boss fight

[theindigoflirt]

Into the Fray Once More

No return from a battle is without chaos. Inigo forced himself to smile through the spike in his anxiety upon his return from Morfis. Garreg Mach practically crawled with the returning students, all of whom shouted relieved greetings at seeing their friends again. He understood, of course; catching sight of Cynthia’s bouncing pigtails or Owain’s ever-present yellow coat lifted a weight off his shoulders. The two were currently surrounded by excited housemates. Inigo couldn’t muster the energy to sidle in on the conversation. What he really wanted, even if it was a little selfish, was to shower and take some time to recover from all the noise. Besides, he’d probably break down into tears talking to them, and the last thing anyone needed right now was tears.

So, Inigo slipped away from the main courtyard and happily snuck away to his room. Now, one shower later, he feels ready to face the afternoon. Inigo returns to his room, whistling merrily as he drops off his dirty clothes. Sand rustles from somewhere inside the bundle. He’d be cleaning the stuff from his room for months. Inigo gratefully deposits his burden on top of his growing pile and brushes his hands off for good measure.

Now, a cup of tea and a lovely lady were calling his name! Inigo grabs a fresh Academy jacket from his closet, smoothing out any wrinkles. A returning hero had to look his best, no?

Inigo turns to leave when something catches the corner of his eye. Suspicion coils in his stomach. With careful steps, he approaches his desk, gingerly picking up the stark white envelope. The wax seal bears the Academy’s symbol. Swallowing, he breaks the seal with his thumbnail. A hurried script forms the body of the letter. From one Sety, an assistant Reason teacher. They must depart tomorrow for a sanctum belonging to the Western Church.

So much for that cup of tea, Inigo thinks, refolding the paper and tucking it into his pocket. The life of a mercenary never ends! At least it’s better than wandering alone. This time, he’s surrounded by friends.

Forcing a smile onto his face, he departs his dorm in search of Sylvain and this mysterious Sety.

@gallantgautier & @vedrskati here we gooo!

[flowerofiris]

Talent In All Shapes And Sizes (Sety & Nino)

@vedrskati

Why did they have to give her a scroll to learn from, rather than just showing her the spell in action? Nino looked very nervous as she looked over this spell the academy gave her for fighting the big scary tiger. Just learning how to read the name of the spell took her a while. Superior Jolt. She pronounced it out loud. “Suh... peer... ee... or... Jolt.” She wondered if she was saying it right. Those vowels were really tricky on her; most of the time, it was just a guessing game.

The name, however, was just the beginning of her troubles. There was a lot of information... she understood it was a really useful spell that let her counter other magic users, but she didn’t have any sort of spell to compare it to. The closest thing she could think of was Thunder, which was much more beginner level compared to this, and Bolting, which served an entirely different purpose compared to this spell.

Slightly frustrated at how difficult reading could be sometimes, Nino put down the information. She had the poses down, she had the name of the spell down, and she understood how to concentrate her magical energy. Practice would make perfect! She was a very talented mage, after all! She just had to practice and she’d get it, words or no words!

“Alright...” Nino took in a deep breath, then exhaled. She was outside, there was plenty of space for the spell to be used without doing too much damage. She took position, waving her hand slowly as electricity began to crackle around her. The power was making her wince in slight pain, but she endured it. “Superior... Jolt!” She yelled out, sending many streaks of lightning out of her fingertips... that proceeded to go forward a few feet and fizzle out. Nino looked slightly crestfallen. “Oh... h-huh...” This was the first time a new spell really stumped her and didn’t work. The feeling was unfamiliar, and... to be honest, really disappointing. She sighed and sat back down, getting back to attempting to read the very complicated text...

[gallantgautier]

❝ sylvain. ❞ ocean green depths glimmer with a calm satisfaction to see the other boy doing well and looking lively after the events in almyra. ❝ i don't mean to intrude. i just wanted to check in. you were injured in that battle, and left our group so suddenly afterwards. how are you doing? ❞ he smiles, a small, tranquil thing. ❝ oh, i never got the chance to tell you, but you fought admirably against gricenchos. well done. ❞

Sylvain starts, and by starts he means jumps nearly half a mile out of his skin, his ghost madly flapping its arms in panic for about three seconds before it realises that the sudden voice is only Sety and settling back into its corporeal form. But on the surface it merely looks like he twitched, squeaked, and held his breath for half a second. Small victories.

Look, his book is just that interesting. He would have heard someone approach any other time. Totally. For sure.

Honey brown eyes blink up at the other man, first in confusion, but slowly softening at the sound of his concern. He waves a hand, grinning broadly and laughing as if they had merely shared a joke, “Me? I’m just dandy, don’t worry.” Sety’s answering smile comes with relief, he normally gets chewed out for talking so lightly about his injuries, no matter how small. It’s a refreshing change, one that he’s not sure how to show gratitude for just yet, but he’ll figure it out.

The stretch of silence doesn’t last long. Sylvain had been half considering asking the mage on his opinion on this array he had been studying, what sort of effect it would have if he modified the outer left glyph. But his half-formed question crumbles in the face of what sounds awfully like genuine praise. Sylvain blinks, once, twice, and then a third because what?

“O-oh, uh...” he flounders, very intelligently, and inwardly kicks himself for it, turning his face back towards his book in hopes that he did so quick enough to hide the faint dust of pink across the bridge of his nose. There’s a warmth swelling in his chest that he doesn’t know what to do with, makes his hands suddenly fidgety, and he lifts one to rub at the back of his neck to give it something to do.

“Well, it’s...” he pauses again, interrupted by a laugh he attempts to coax into not sounding embarrassed. “It’s no big deal really.”

[vonvestra]

The change in topic comes as a surprise and scrutinizing eyes once more dart toward the other mage. Perhaps he had sensed the dangerous territory he was treading into, or perhaps he had simply exhausted his curiosity - either way, Hubert is glad to talk of magic and his expression lightens to match. While he still does not look pleasant, by any means, the raspy growl has left his voice to be replaced by smug amusement.

“You’ve done your research, Professor.” Mockery drips from his words; a verbal applause for doing the bare minimum required of every new faculty. “Yes, I am heir to House Vestra, the family that has served the Imperial line closely for generations.”

Pride swells over his prickly tone, and though his sneering smile does not falter, he acquiesces to Sety’s questions with a notable lack of animosity.

“I was tutored by my father and other members of my household, but my experience is by no means commonplace. We specialize in a rather different sort of magic. A discipline that cannot be learned by ordinary means.” He searches Sety’s face for recognition before continuing on with a question of his own. “How familiar are you with the dark arts?”

`` war paint in every era » open

vonvestra‌:

A huff of laughter, louder than before and nearly an outright scoff, answers Sety’s inquiry. His smirk grows along the corner of his mouth and, shaking his head, Hubert looks away.

“I do not care much for blind devotion.”

A statement that rings with irony from Edelgard’s humble servant, but is also made all the more damning. His path and purpose are clear, after all, and his goddess is real. Unlike those who pretend to see signs in thousand-year-old books and conjure blessings out of sunlight.

“The church’s followers would leap to their deaths at the Archbishop’s command, and praise the Goddess for their survival.” His eyes find some stain on the unfinished wood of the nearby table. “These missions are merely practice.”

It doesn’t answer Sety’s question, barely comes close, but for all of Hubert’s distrust of the church, he knows better. He tilts his empty cup and stares thoughtfully at the crescent of drying coffee at the bottom.

“You would not have been hired had they not believed you would jump when you were told.”

          blind devotion is what hubert calls it, a sneer audible in his tone. another piece to add to a growing pile — facts and testimonies to broaden his understanding of this place so like, and so unlike, his home continent across the sea. if hubert’s assessment is accurate, then hearing a perspective like this is rare. he’s grateful for the opportunity this unplanned conversation had given him, in spite of the other’s demeanor.

          hubert stares at something out of sight in his cup, and quiet fills the space between them as sety considers his words.

          ❝ i see, ❞ he finally says, nodding slowly. normally, he would thank him for his insight, but given that the man doesn’t trust him, it seems somehow inappropriate. so instead, he takes another sip of his own tea, now beginning to cool. 

          part of him considers leaving it there for now; there are enough thoughts swirling in his head even without the company. but then a reminder that most of the others from the academy that had been assigned to the almyran force are exchange students and staff like himself occurs to him again, and curiosity piques once more.

          ❝ oh, there’s something else i wanted to ask. i know that you come from a noble family, and you’re a mage as well. growing up here… how did you learn magic? were you tutored from a young age, or did you attend schools before garreg mach? ❞ he and those he had fought alongside in the war — their lives had been ones birthed into and shaped by terror and conflict, an entire generation afflicted with a blighted inheritance. and now he was called to lead a country to peace when he has never known it.

          even something as simple as schools, as education — piecemeal fragments had to be sifted out from beneath the weight of nearly two decades of occupation and built again from its foundations.

[gallantgautier]

A Plea on the Wind (Sety & Sylvain)

((Starter for @ vedrskati ))

This is one of those occasions where Sylvain likes to take a good, long, hard look back at his life and all of it’s various ups and bottomless pit depth downs. There was that one time he broke his arm after falling out of a tree, which he had only climbed up to prove that he could. Another of his greatest hits was the occasion he hadn’t realised that The Angry Brother would come in the form of triplets and had to run away from three pairs of brass clad knuckles. Oh! And he’ll never forget the time he had woken up in the stables in only his boots without a shred of memory of how he got there. Ah, good times.

This, he thinks, is most certainly not one of those times, and he wonders if perhaps what he’s doing is making light of the fact that his life is currently flashing before his eyes. Understandable really, given his situation. He hadn’t meant to get separated from his group, but Chastity had caught a whiff of something and bolted, unfortunately, with him still in the saddle. And then he had the greater misfortune of being bucked from said saddle as a lone patrolling wyvern rider had turned a spooking into full panic.

A lone knight knocked off his mount is easy prey for anyone, a man of Fódlan is irritable for an Alymran warrior.

Which is almost how Sylvain ended up in his current situation, he hasn’t quite finished recollecting which his worst mistake was quite yet. It wasn’t, he thinks, rolling onto his back the moment the beast landed over him, talons clawing the earth either side of his torso and fangs approaching dangerously close to his face. Nor was his mistake in grabbing Felix’s dagger from his hip and plunging it into a scaled neck, he’s not going to blame anything that stops him becoming wyvern lunch. Or is it dinner? He might be disassociating.

No, his mistake, he finally decides, was not rolling out from under the creature as it collapsed on top of him, lifeless. Because now there’s an Almyran warrior with an axe who’s very pissed that Sylvain killed his mount, and no amount of struggling is going to get him out from under it without some help.

Which leaves him few choices. Yelling seems pointless. Throwing the dagger could help him, but if he misses then he has nothing to defend himself with. That said, how well is he going to be able to defend himself while pinned down with just a dagger? But maybe yelling could help if Chastity ran back to the village?

Well, all he’s got is a dagger and his voice, so he raises both and prays something will come of it.

[vonvestra]

By the time Hubert reached the battlefield - some minutes behind the archer battalion he sent ahead - the fight was already well underway again. The plains offered little cover, and those engaged with the beast relied on constant movement to avoid a swipe from its heavy paws. Even that, however, was not a guarantee, and Hubert saw the broken, bloody bodies of wyverns and their riders crushed on the ground like insects. Neither the thickest hide nor the sturdiest armor stood a chance against Gricenchos’ mighty jaws.

Sylvain was down, Selkie as well. And Xander soon joined the numbers of the fallen. Whether he was still alive would be ascertained later. For now, he might as well be dead.

The beast thought so, too. Pink foam dripped from its panting mouth as it approached, hunger and exhaustion in its eyes. The arrows and javelins raining down bounced off its back, as useless as sticks to slow its footfalls, and even the blood running from the new gash in its leg barely fazed it. It was hungry, and Xander would be its hard-earned meal.

Then Gricenchos reared up as purple flames burst from the ground in front of where Xander had fallen. Dead or not, allowing the monstrous tiger to eat a foreign monarch would light a new conflict on Fodlan’s shores.

Hubert’s attack: 5 - Miss

With hands outstretched in a triangle shape, Hubert held the wall long enough for the hallmark of the spell to form from the black fire at its center - a skull, with hypnotic white eyes - and Gricenchos, for a moment, seemed to slow its wild pawing at the air.

There. He had thought he had seen it before, back at the fort, but now he was certain. A stone glowed red at the center of the beast’s chest, between its front legs.

A crest stone?

Gricenchos’ attack: 3 - Miss

Then the tiger’s massive paws hit the ground again and sent a tremor through the earth. The flames licked at its hide, but an orange film shimmered faintly around its body. A reflective shine, like some sort of...

“It has a shield,” Hubert called to the others.

From that stone?

“Aim for its chest! Keep it away from the injured until our healers arrive.”

Next: @flowerofiris or @healingmist

`` eye of the tiger » gricenchos boss fight

[vonvestra]

He has become a regular fixture in the canteen, a shadow that has remained in one corner for so long that wary eyes no longer check on it. There is little else to do in camp but wait for deployment. And drink the local coffee, which Hubert has found to be the only thing worth the trek into Almyra, despite the way it coils his worry for Edelgard’s safety into a tight, unending loop. Even watching the ever-changing line of soldiers and militia filing in and out through the doors has lost its appeal.

It has been a decade since he has been so lost, and caffeinated restlessness entices him to make the journey to Sreng on his own. Mapping out half a dozen plans for a new escapade occupies his mind for some time, but the memory of his humiliating failure of a rescue all those years ago keeps him seated, tapping a rhythmless beat of helpless frustration against the tabletop.

He hates this. And the crowded hall. And even his own classmates. He watches them contemptuously with eyes made hollow by insomnia.

The guest who joins his table earns only a glance of acknowledgment, and a second one of minimal interest when a servant delivers his order. With his own cup still half-full, he waves away the offer of a refill and looks out again at the ripple of restlessness across the hall. He’s seen the posturing from the locals nearly a dozen times already, and the way his classmates mirror it as if forgetting their noble upbringings. How easy it is to rile them up.

Hubert scoffs into his cup by way of an answer to his new companion’s observation.

“Recruiting foreigners at the last minute? Seems the church really is desperate,” he says to himself, but loudly enough for the other to hear. His eyes slide toward him as he returns his cup to its saucer.

“You’re blindly risking your life for something you know nothing about.” A smirk curls his lips as he nods toward the group of academy students bowing up at the slights thrown toward their goddess. “Hm. Then again, I suppose you fit right in.”

`` war paint in every era » open

          with a gentle clink, dark-colored tea is placed on the table before him, and he lifts his head to nod his thanks, wrapping his hands around the steaming cup. it’s almost too warm for a drink like this, here, but he hadn’t been familiar with anything else that’d been named. best to stay safe for now while he’s still getting his bearings, not out of lack of trust, but in the chaotic whirlwind of the unknown, even something as small as spiced tea is comforting.

          and speaking of familiar…

          he looks over to the small commotion happening near the center of the hall. a group of the local militia, as he understands it — boys roughly around his age and that of most of his new peers — had grown restless waiting, brimming with eager energy. in a way, they remind him of his friends from the war as they joke, pushing each other around, parading bravado in the faces of those from fodlan without realizing it… maybe it’s the youth. it must be, because the zealous light in their faces is foreign.

          blowing a cooling breath over his tea, he continues watching as a few of them break off from the cluster and cross over to the academy students he’s been tasked with overseeing, their chins thrust forward and bearing challenge in their gait. some of the ensuing exchange is audible, but the body language and gestures are enough, even without it.

          a contest. he catches wind of their target’s name — a competition to see who can defeat the beast in the end, he guesses. sety takes a sip from his cup, pleasantly surprised at the strong flavor.

          ❝ it’s good to see some things don’t change much in other parts of the world, ❞ he remarks with concealed humor to one of his new allies sitting nearby. ❝ i’ve only just arrived, so i don’t claim to know much about almyra, or fodlan. ❞ some further snippets of the stand-off drift into earshot — a goad about fodlaners ❛ hiding behind the goddess’ skirts ❜. ❝ i’m out of my element here, ❞ he admits with a shake of his head. ❝ would you tell me what’s going on? ❞