#verseandrhyme

[wolfhednn]

WHO KNOWS. MAYBE FAITH WHERE SHE CAME FROM⠀🗲⠀wasn't so bad, for her to say something like that. it didn't sound like she had much of an issue with the idea of fighting either, which was a surprise. usually most clerics were quick to balk at the idea of warfare or continued bloodshed, counseling him to consider turning to more peaceful ways. as if the history of this land hadn't been forged through bloodshed, and all others everywhere else so long as people had things to fight about.

". . . hmph." to her note about fathers and fitting into them, he says nothing, only a quietly stout huff giving any acknowledgement to the remark. whether he disapproved or otherwise is left to hang in the turn of his head forward again, obscuring his face and whatever thoughts ran behind it.

it's an idea that faerghus——no, probably all of fódlan——wasn't ready to hear. even he can't deny a hollowness that pits in his gut in response to it, as though looking at the distant lines of a homestead left far in the distance and moving farther with each second, knowing he would never see it again.

regardless: "felix." he finishes her inquiry with a note of finality.

and once more the soft sounds of a cathedral in mourning come to life in his ears: shuffling and subdued conversation, the billowing of cloth, loud scraping creaks of the wagons towing stone beyond the caved-in wall ; a few steps in front, a young acolyte crosses within sight to search for something amidst the crates, nodding wordlessly to them in apology for the disturbance. with the reminder of the rest of life beyond the small chapel, it's more than time for him to take his leave. haughtily, as if mocking: "don't make a habit of collapsing."

the faint clink of a sword belt is all that succeeds his footsteps returning to the shadows of the nave.

doves, off-white.

restoration⠀∶⠀confessions.

[nobilisseoblige]

verseandrhyme asked:

🎄 He is...the loud one of the eagles. She faintly remembers hearing his name, boldly declared by him himself, but she had not cared to remember it. Nor does she plan to. "Pardon me." She pipes up, hoping to interrupt whatever it is he is saying. "You are blocking the hallway. Could you kindly take whatever antics you are doing here elsewhere."

"Why is everyone whispering?"

there was no joke, nor punchline, nor build up, but the students scattered the moment he piped up. honestly! class wasn't even in session and there weren't any particular signs that people were studying in the hallway, so why was everyone so hushed? he canted his head one way, combing back his hair in confusion. "very well then! keep your secrets! but be rest assured, it would be particularly ignoble of you to be scheming right under my nose." he always felt particularly left out in these matters, but it bore no weight to him!

and as of late, Ferdinand could have sworn the volunteers around the academy were undermining his pride in some such way. if it was simply overlaying their own touches to the decorations, he would bear that no mind. however, was it necessary to go back and lay out mistletoe where he knew there weren't any? he knew no one really meant any harm, but did they even once consider that it was easy to preserve one's dignity if it was a task done alone, but once you involved another (let alone, that person's romantic quandaries), the situation became a lot more… delicate? even he had his fair share of bruising after all that.

"I am prone to suspecting there might be something afoot. you all wouldn't happen to know if there was intention behind all the mistletoe, would you?" raising his voice, Ferdinand folded his arms over his chest, tapping a finger on the side of his arm impatiently. "i'll have you know, that—"

a voice snapped him out of his reverie, pulling both of his feet back onto the ground. (if he was a kite, she tugged on the string, just so.)

he recognized her immediately—what, with the lovely pink locks and stars glimmering in her eyes, she was someone the gods certainly favored when they graced the world with love. she was, of course, not of their house, but Ferdinand knew that before long, she would perhaps be drawn to the allure that was the Black Eagles. After all, they had some of the most brilliant, most considerate, most— oh, wait, what exactly had she asked of him?

"yes, well, pardon me!" unshaken, but stirred. "they are not antics, and you'll have half the mind to listen to me if you—"

he was poised right between the hallway and an open lecture hall, talking and excusing himself as she made her way through. gesturing. postulating. the whole nine yards!

"annnnd— if you'll excuse me!" gently, he pressed both his hands on her shoulders, turning her away from the inner doorway. they circled back towards the hall, half-quartered turned, like a two-step dance with both parties unwilling. shifting eyes and quiet laughter dappled the room inside. there was a hint of red berries peeking from just behind the entryway. "you may have my hands after this, but you'll thank me later."

a slight pink brushed the tips of his ears.

@verseandrhyme

[hresvelged]

🍪!

No matter how many times she sees others hoist sweets and wave them around as if it is some sort of prize, she will never get used to it. She doesn't understand it— How, each year, friends and allies alike present biscuits within their hands in an attempt to get one another closer. Is that the goal? It must be.

Watching Mitama stand in front of her like this has her interest maneuver into curiosity and surprise. She looks into the other girl's star-filled eyes and takes a step closer. "You must know how bold it is to offer this to the likes of a future emperor." A finger lightly taps the side of her temple. "If it is a challenge you propose, I will accept. I must warn you, though. I've.. yet to fully understand why this has become such a trend."

As Edelgard leans in, the bite she takes is larger than she anticipates. The loud snap erupts in the quiet space and causes her cheeks to glisten pink. The princess immediately turns around as her hands grip against her forearms. The embarrassment is difficult for even her to hide. "Forget you saw anything. In fact, pretend we have yet to cross paths at all. That is an order."

[aimlessarchery]

It is hardly the time for merriment or easily collectable gifts, but the difficulty does not dissuade one from trying all the same. Even if it is not what she might have hoped, she still wishes to try.

"Python!" It takes some time to find him, and even more to catch up. The staff she has found is not in the best shape, but it serves its double purpose as healing tool and cane well enough without raising more suspicion than she would like.

It has been a time since last she saw him. She has no idea where he might have been in the supposed...the supposed moon that had passed. It was a relief to see him again, even if she did not expect that sentiment to be returned.

"It is almost impressive how quickly they managed to reestablish the habit of alerting us to people's birthday while the monastery is still in ruins." Though she smiles, there's a hint of bitterness to it. She does not share it with him.

She pulls out a bundle from a bag at her side and holds it out to him. "Here. My au- my father's fellow retainer is an archer, so I picked up some lessons. You are likely low on supplies, correct?" She does not know the name or specifics of the materials she had gathered, only that she recognizes them from watching Setsuna and Kiragi maintain their bows.

Once handed off, she gives a slight bow of her head. "Happy birthday. I do wish it was under better circumstances."

Python blinks for a moment, taking in the girl, the staff in her grasp, the bundle of supplies offered to his. She's a healer then, like her father. And her father is a retainer with comrades who have the same skillset as Python does. Mitama continues to give him new information about his strange friend simply by being herself. He takes the offered gift, waits a beat, and then slumps forward with enough suddenness to pull at his healing shoulder. It adds an extra sincerity to the tight wince he already planned on pulling his face into. "Putting me to work? Ugh, and here I thought I'd found a slacker in arms when it's time for cleanup duty…" When he lifts his head, he gives her a half-smile. "Eh, the circumstances are a tiiiiny bit better with every friendly face I see alive and well. So thanks for that, Mitama."

[twistedisciple]

"You." When the man turns to face her, he will find himself under attack as her uniform coat flies into his face. When pulled away, he will next find the culprit standing in front of him with arms crossed, not in impatience, but simply waiting for his attention before she continues on.

"I assume, based on the quality and state of your clothes, that you are familiar with the act of mending rips and tears in fabric when they occur." Mitama nods to the jacket that he now holds this time. "Would you know how to repair that?"

Her sleeve is torn, ripped at the seam where Dimitri's swinging lance had caught and pulled it to now hang from its place by only a few threads. It is not the end of the world if not, she has other options, but it seemed worth a shot. "You can freeze it in a fountain to return it if you so wish, I do not mind."

The swelling split in his lip from the last time someone had approached him has finally stopped bleeding, so it's another punch Griss expects when he turns around. Primed reflexes snap the coat out of the air, but not quite fast enough. When he drags it off his head, he blinks with surprise at the pink-haired girl fro the last fight. Because she's not squaring up to hit him while he can't see.

"Repair it?" he parrots. That's all? Maybe he's a little disappointed that she's not come with another delivery of pain, but that takes a backseat to his curiosity for the time being. It's not every day that someone other than Lord Rafal has a request for him. Taking the coat in both hands, he turns it around and around until he finds the tear she'd mentioned. He snorts.

"Yeah. Easy," and that's all he says before he turns and ventures deeper into the medical tent. If the Deer student thinks he's making off with her belongings (however improbable that seemed, what with the coat being a standard issue uniform, and also too small for him), her watchful eye would find him slinking between cots instead, checking over bedside tables, trays, and trolleys until swiping something and making his way back.

"Thought all you noble brats were taught stuff like this," he mutters, throwing a smirk up at her as he drops down to sit on the ground. It's then that he reveals what he'd been searching for: a spool of suturing thread and a needle. Possibly used. With coat draped over his crossed legs, he works the stitching swiftly, closing up the gap near-seamlessly with a few crisscrosses. It only takes a couple of minutes, and when he's done, he snaps the thread off with his teeth, then rises to return the coat. The repair work reveals hardly a trace of the tear that had been in sleeve a few moments ago, at least at a distance. Upon closer inspection, one would see glimpses of the thick, white medical thread.

"Now what's in this for me?" Griss sneers, snatching the coat out of the girl's hands before she can take it. "No such thing as a free lunch."

His eyes fall to the horrible red ogre mask hanging from her wrist and in a split-second decision, he catches hold of it and tugs it off.

"I'll just take this then."

He tosses the coat at her face, like she'd done to him.

Griss has acquired Mitama's Monster Mask

[vallitevoice]

"Well, that was disappointing."

She wonders what is expected from her? Apologies? Condolences? She will find none of either here, not when the princess has already run from her once and failed her twice just within this exam alone. For being the woman who helped drag all of Hoshido and Nohr into such a large scale conflict, Mitama thought she would be better at it.

"I have no intention of bothering you further after today. Only that I say one last thing." Gaze steady, hands folded neatly together, none of that politeness or warmth is to be found within her now. No, the child who stands before her is every bit the soldier that she, her father, and the war made her out to be.

"You may not know me, and that is fine. But I know you, and I know what we really fought against in war. My friend's mother was not a coward." Mitama raises her head boldly. "I am sorry to hear that your lifetime lead you to be one."

Message delivered. Just as promised, Mitama turns and walks away.

This is one of the last people she wants to see after being taken down in the battle. MItama continues to follow her, to haunt​​​​​​her in some ways. Azura doesn't know her but the pink haired maiden does.

The songstress doesn't want sympathy. She came here to start over so why should she have to run into so many Hoshidans? What did they want from her? To cry and grovel at her feet that she started a war?

Too bad. It wasn't her fault that she was born a princess of Valla, that she had to harbor a secret so deadly she couldn't tell anyone. That she knew the true evil causing all the troubles of the world but could not cry a whisper to another soul. What did this girl know of sorrow, of her problems? Does she intend to lecture her?

Before Azura was apathetic. Now she is angry. Enraged, boiling with a geyser so hot it will melt anything it touches. 

"You may know a different version of me," they conjecture, fists clenched, body tensing up, heat rising to her chest, "and that is fine. But you know nothing of me. Of my life, of why the war was started, of who I am. You are just a little girl crying wolf because things did not go the way you wanted."

"We don't always get what we want. You are merely taking your anger out on me. I was content to take your heat because you are a student but I will take these words no longer." "You need some growing up to do." Azura turns and walks away. Clearly, this wasn't going anywhere.

[luminousrider]

"Excuse me, would you show me your fingers please?" She did not expect to run into the woman so soon after their battle, but she will take the chance that presents itself as it comes. Though she does not know her, and therefore does not know how forward her action may come across, no sooner does she make the request than does she take her hands in hers and begin to carefully examine her fingers.

Carefully, she gives a finger pad a light pinch. "The tricky thing about ice and magic is that extremities are so sensitive to temperature." She explains. Color returns to the digit properly, and she is able to comfortably move onto the next. "It often makes for casting uncomfortable at times, but being encased in ice is far more risky. Too long, and it is rather easy to look a finger, after all."

Thankfully, none of hers seem affected. She releases her hand with a satisfied nod. "Unfortunately I missed any of your fighting, and cannot judge if you fought well or not. But you fought longer than I did, so I hope you take pride in that accomplishment. I hope also that you do not hold anything against me; I would rather have not fought at all, were that an option."

"Wh-what?" But before Altena can fully comprehend what is being asked or even who is asking it of her, Mitama takes her hand and starts prodding and poking at her finger tips.

"Hey what the hell?" But Mitama explains and Altena allows her to continue until she is satisfied. Altena isn't really sure why Mitama bothered to check in on her but she figures the person who actually cast the spell that froze her would be pretty knowledgeable about its effects.

"I've fought better but at least I went down fighting," she admits as she gives her fingers a wiggle herself. The cold isn't uncomfortable anymore but it does still linger. She's never been good at resisting the effects of magic and she wonders if that's why she can still feel the chill in her bones.

"It seems like you're lucky though. My fingers are fine. Seems like I don't have to resist the urge to take revenge." Is this a joke? She isn't sure.

[starrook]

🎲 have some fun have some whimsy x2

"Am I really the first person to kiss you here?"

Mitama is beautiful after all, with her soft round face and silky hair, not to mention the stars in her eyes. It feels wrong for Alcryst of all people to earn the privilege of seeing what lies beneath her priestess robes. But that just means he has to prove he's worthy of the privilege, right?

His hands grip soft flesh, lips gliding along her hipbone. "I'll do my best..."

15. A kiss along the hips

[viridescent-lance]

[ Trip ]

Mitama squeaks, quickly righting herself. She had not even been dancing, just trying to make her way across the nightmare of a ballroom, only to trip and bump into another guest. She should have just gone to sleep the evening by in her room rather than try to attend.

She quickly turns to the poor victim and bows. "I am sorry for my clumsiness." When she lifts her head, the green is familiar. It takes her a moment to place the name, only remembered from an echoing announcement of her failures. "Sir...Forsyth, yes?"

Forsyth has seen this girl before, a while ago at this very ball. He hadn't gotten much of a chance to talk with her or even see her up close then, as they'd been on opposing ends of a dancing competition.

"Ah, no worries. It could happen to anyone." He reassures her, but something about her eyes strikes him, wobbling the last couple words. The literal stars in her eyes are unusual, yes but it's where he's seen them before that's the problem.

That man's infuriating face...hers does resemble it, as he looks closer. Could it be...?

"Ah, sorry." He's been staring at her for a second, which is weird. He shakes his head apologetically, brushing away those thoughts as well. "You just look like someone I know, is all."

"Would you like to exchange brooches?" An easy way of changing the conversation, and something he does need to make headway on. "I've a teardrop crystal, myself."

[vallitemaiden]

"Happy birthday, Lady Mikoto." What a strange thing to say, after all that she had been through. Still, Mitama smiles brightly as she places a carefully wrapped bundle onto the woman's desk.

"It is tea that is crafted with the intent of aiding with headaches and other similar ailments. I have heard stories that speak of the fantastic sounding abilities you possess and...well, I do not know if it is a concern in actuality, but I thought that it could not hurt to have."

She gives a short bow. "I hope that you enjoy your day."

belated birthday (12/6) ask

Mikoto was surprised to be receiving a present but certainly not ungrateful. "Oh, thank you dear." She accepted the wrapped gift and held it with careful hands. As Mitama explained the gift, her eyes softened.

"This is very thoughtful of you. I'll use it wisely." Mikoto inclined her head in return, deeply appreciating the young woman's sentiment.

[mmoneystones]

continued from x

Citrinne lays one hand on her chest, near the heart that the bishop aimed for as their final hurrah. She can feel it continue to pulse, so she can only nod her head in response to Mitama's concerns.

"I am alright, thank you. Under regular circumstance, I utilize magic for combat myself. The force of a spell in retaliation is not unfamiliar to me. Though today must be an exception."

Yes, an exception. Citrinne still underestimates how long it has been since her last true battle. A year may be little time for some, but to her it has been over 365 days since she had to be in top fighting shape. Time has proven to make her fumble on the defensive end of things. Future rounds will determine if her offense is just as rusty.

"The Church? This is not the first time you have spoken lowly of them," Citrinne faintly recalls that from her first encounter with Mitama, and how her early statements made the knight question her early allegiance. "I do swear that I held a thunder tome upon entry. Could it have been stripped from my person between then and now?"

"...no, I simply must have misplaced it. Forgive my ramblings."

@verseandrhyme

[warpaway]

🎄 Ah, she had hoped that she would not wake them. Mitama winces apologetically. "My mistake." She holds up the little sprig of mistletoe so that he might properly see it. "Someone left this on your head while you were napping. I presumed that you would rather not have that sitting there unknowingly."

mistletoe mishaps || accepting

linhardt's eyes flutter open slowly. it takes him a moment to reorient himself to reality - his dream was one of sleeping on fluffy clouds and admiring a waterfall and a rainbow. this is... mitama. she's taking the mistletoe off of his head. he's awake. he's awake. wait, put that back...

"oh," they say, rubbing at their eye to clear it of spots. "actually, it was meant to be there. i put it there myself."

if this sounds at all strange to her, he doesn't give her the time to reply before he explains. "you see, there's a few people i'd like to get closer to, but they seem to avoid me for some reason, and i realized that maybe if that was around i'd be able to confirm a couple of hypotheses i have regarding them. you don't have to worry, i don't count you in their number, but if you wanted to fulfill the tradition with me i suppose i'm okay with that."

they shift, rising to their full height first, but then bending over so she could in fact, kiss them, without standing on her tip-toes. linhardt's hand also moves to cover hers, in order to take the plant back from her easily.

[carefreemonk]

She wakes up in one of the last places he might have expected to find her; the crumbled remains of his own office.

Mitama blinks as she turns to face him from her seat on the couch in his office, now covered in a fine layers of dirt and dust. She's dazed, almost as though waking from a long sleep...or something like that.

After a moment, she breaks the silence first, raising her hands to rub her eyes. "Your office is cursed." She tells him flatly. "I had a horrible dream." The heels of her palms dig against her eyes as they get warm. "I dreamed we were at war again."

It felt like it. Flying out of her room, terror in her heart, panic in the students as she ran and ran and...

"I couldn't find you." Could not find anyoen that mattered, but him especially. "I tried searching, but I did not find you, and then-"

Light. Lots of light.

Some tears roll down her cheeks, taking some of the dirt that covers her face with them. Frustrated, she allows her hands to drop and stands up, crossing the destroyed room to reach him.

Mitama hugs her father tightly. The poet has nothing more to say.

Despite his purpose, the way the monk picks his way through the ruins and the newly grown vegetation… it almost feels… listless. As though he wanders. He knows very well what - who - it is he's looking for, and where he should like to look, but he avoids going there first.

The student dorms are a wreck, and people have already been poring over them for what seems to Azama a small eternity. No fatalities - none permanent, at any rate - it would seem, as though by some divine miracle. . . But there are still many unaccounted for, and among them…

Azama finds himself before his office, in all of its sundered glory. He manages to push the door open despite the debris. It's in better shape overall than he had anticipated, though that isn't saying much. A single tea pot has escaped being flung to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. He plucks it up carefully, brushing off some dust before setting it on what's left of his desk. His slow sweep of the room continues.

He hears movement and freezes.

There's a lump in his throat.

He turns to face her. Thinks back to their 'training session' of not long ago. Remembers the thud of blood and bones. Naturally, it is with his usual smile that he greets her.

"… It was just a bad dream," Azama assures, whimsical. "Still, I suppose I will have to take care to set better wards next time. You'll help, won't you? Ha ha."

As though everything is normal and the world as they know it hadn't briefly gone to hell and back.

She makes her way to him. His whimsy dies on his tongue.

"Oh, child… My dear Mitama…"

He returns her embrace, hugging her close. He pats her lightly, as though she were a fragile thing reasy to shatter… but she's the real deal, not some specter come to seek retribution or haunt him. There's… an absurd amount of relief to be had in this revelation.

"I have done you wrong in so many a way…"

An apology, of sorts.

I'll try my best not to leave you again, so you'll never have to look for me again, he wants to promise, but, well…

Maybe it's for the best if they just enjoy the silence for the now.

[hresvelged]

🎲

11.) A kiss to the neck

The Goddess Tower is quiet at this time of night. She can hear her own thoughts and listen loudly to the sound of heels tapping against the ground. There is no saying how long this will last nor what tomorrow may bring. Edelgard is content with the solitude, void of prying eyes and ears. Stars act as her only light. One such star yet come close than she realizes, different than the rest.

"Oh? It appears I was found quicker than I'd realized.. And here I thought nobody would be wandering this way for at least a little longer." A laugh, small but grand all the same. No matter how sharp her words sound, she does her utmost to insert a jesting tone. Whether or not that lands, she is not so certain. She doesn't bother to clarify. "I'll forgive you just this once."

As Mitama's visage comes closer into view, her eyes are liken to the stars above. It interests her; draws her attention enough to eradicate internal musings and focus her attention forward. "Tell me," she muses. "When you look at the sky, what do you think?" Her shoulders draw back. She looks up, then straight.

"Many thoughts come to my mind." A step closer. "There are countless stars out there, and yet.." She's closer to the other girl now— In enough proximity to push pink strands behind her ear and extends a kiss to the neck. The act in itself is clumsy, if only by virtue of the way Edelgard lays the other hand on an arm to keep her still.

She backs away and suppresses the embarrassment swelling in her head. If she stagnates any longer, Edelgard is certain company will find them. "I'd like to think they lead us forward."

[twistedisciple]

[ Fashion Police ]

She should not say it. She should have some tact. She does not even know this person, and she really should not care about how they chose to present themselves. It is none of her business.

But ever her father's child, she cannot stop herself.

"Did you forget to change after they pulled you out of the pond?" Mitama points vaguely at the net shirt and outer attire that looks like it had been shred in a struggle. She was not entirely convinced that it was not seaweed on his head either. "You will get sick walking around like that, you know?"

”Huh? Pond?” Now where’d this starry-eyed brat come from? Griss runs his fingers through his hair almost unconsciously. Nope, not wet. A little - no, maybe a lot oily, but jumping in the pond would solve that problem.

So he pushes back the folds of his coat to put his hands on his hips and peer down at her, a smile slithering across his lips as he pretends to be touched by her concern. He doesn’t even notice that it’s only a veil for the insults about his attire. Or they simply don’t land. He’s heard plenty of criticism about how he’s chosen to dress over the years, most of which tends to be about the tattoos. Or the metal in his face.

“Aww, worried about lil’ ol’ me?” Expression turns as slimy as she thinks his hair is. “Then what’s your solution, doc?”

[optimismxmagicism]

[RUFFLE] - sender ruffles receiver's hair.

It occurs purely as a result of muscle memory. Kana is small, cheerful, eager, with a voice that rings out in any room they find themselves in. It is an energy that Mitama could never hope to obtain, but finds herself fond of all the same.

The second she realizes what she has done, to someone who is very decidedly not her dear friend, Mitama freezes. Staring with wide eyes, a heartbeat passes. Then another. And then her face burns a bright red.

"...Excuse me." She turns her head away. "You reminded me of someone and I got carried away. My apologies."

Ewan grinned at the (admittedly unexpected) gesture. Normally he didn’t like sudden contact, especially not from random strangers. However, with this girl specifically he didn’t seem to particularly mind.

“Heehee, don’t worry. I get it a lot that people find my hair very ruffle-able.” It was true, the combination of his small stature, baby-face and never ending optimism often endeared older students to his antics, leading to them patting his head or ruffling his hair.

All he did was help Mitama repair a staff, and while doing so he was immediately intrigued by her eyes, which looked a little similar to his own. (How many other people do you meet that are that literally starry eyed?). Perhaps that’s what made him take to her so quickly.

“Tell me about your friend though! Are they as fun as me? Or perhaps as charming?” He pressed a finger to his cheek as he winked at her. His voice was just slightly teasing.