tenayalla

[tenayalla]

(hope u didnt get this twice lmao)

"Hey, Rhajat..."

Normally Claude would think nothing of approaching an ally about a concern of his, but the threat of real curses and hex getting sent hid way forced him to change his approach. He still doesn't know Rhajat all that well... so he approaches her like a scarier, gloomier Lysithea. "I got you these. Think of it as a peace treaty. Or an offering, if that's what you're into." He gives her an award-winning smile as he hands over a stack of sugar-glazed gingerbread cookies.

"And I'm still wearing that charm you gave me." One thumb hooks under his shirt and pulls out the necklace Rhajat gave him earlier. "But when I asked Mitama about what you cursed me with, she said that you didn't curse me at all, but that you were trying to be friendly."

Claude gives some time to let the news of his realization sit in, sighing as he rubs the back of his head. "So... that's how I'll view your gift. But I have to tell you that there's definitely better ways of befriending people than throwing curses at them, or pretending to in any case. I think it's making your life harder than it needs to be. Think about it. I could have just taken off your charm, thought worse of you, and gotten myself crushed by a boulder somewhere because I didn't have your protection. Then where would we be?

"So... Why don't we start over?" Hesitation, then Claude offers his hand to her. "I think we started off on the wrong foot when we first met. You're a close friend of Mitama's, so it'd be a shame if we couldn't at least be on good terms with each other."

MITAMA IS NOT NEAR CLAUDE when he comes to speak to her.  she supposes that it is the reason behind the anxiety in her throat.  the reason why she immediately takes a step back for every one claude takes towards her.  not of fright or concern   —   rhajat could have easily struck him down with a spell the moment he entered the classroom   —   but maybe of confusion.  brown eyes stay stuck on the item in his hand, arched brows and a grimace shadowed over her features.  the reaction to the cookies is immediate but she realizes the fault of it only after she holds her hands out to take them from him.

she does not like sugar, not does she enjoy cookies.  at the very least, it is the idea that counts.  mitama would be upset if she immediately turned away an offering, so rhajat nods slowly and awkwardly holds the stack of gingerbread cookies.  she does not whisper thanks.   (   the smile he gives her is what makes her frown threaten to return.   )   claude speaks once again and the mention of the charm pulls rhajat’s gaze up instantly.  there is a sigh of relief that slips from her lips at the sight of the necklace.  she tempts the instinct of reaching for it to see if any rip has worn into the string.  the gem itself doesn’t seem lacking in its aura.

“   oh...   ”   is her only response.  rhajat glances away; at the case in her hand, the desk near her hip, the ground, anywhere that is not claude.   “   i... the...   ”   it is not embarrassing, nor is it disappointing but there is some emotion that flushes her face slightly and pushes a grimace on her lips.  silence hangs in the air and rhajat almost takes it as the implication of claude telling her to leave, that the conversation has ended.  rejection is a silly little thing, one that she is used to   —   that is why surprise takes to her expression when claude speaks.

the stack of cookies lie heavy in her hand, desperation to end this discussion setting in the slump of her shoulders.  rhajat keeps her gaze aimed at the case in her grip instead of the house leader that insists that friendship can come in easier forms.  it would be fruitless to object that she does not want friends; indeed, the small group of friends she has is well enough to last her all of her waking life.

“   then you would have died.   ”   rhajat interrupts, blunt yet confused at the question.  if the charm had been taken off then no, claude would not have died instantly, but whatever pain fate had set him for the night would have reached him.  she realizes that her reaction is wrong only moments later.

rhajat bites back another retort when claude holds a hand out.  she does not like touching people, or being near people, so she is unsure of what makes her take his hand.  her gloves save her half of the distaste of contact, fortunately.   (   she can guess that somewhere above, the fates are amused of her struggling.   )   finally, after a beat of silence, she says,   “   i will have you know that i want to make my life harder.  if i can’t bear it, then no one else can.   ”

a pause.   “   the charm.  i need to check its spell soon so now that we are on good terms, i won’t have to steal it from you as you sleep.   ”   proper response?  maybe not, she wouldn’t know.   “   and i... do not eat cookies... but thank you, i guess.   ”   and with that, she pulls her hand back, moving it to continue holding up the stack of treats.  she will probably hand them over to a friend if the first one does not go down her throat well.

remembrance brings up a memory and silently, rhajat adds:   “   and i suppose now is a good time to apologize for... cursing your classmates.  no, i won’t swear to not do it again.  this is just so i can stop feeling bad about making mitama upset.   ”

[tenayalla]

NAME FIVE OF HER SONGS, I’LL WAIT - & LEO

princepsumbra​:

> starter for: @tenayalla

He allows the girl to believe she’s gone unnoticed for a few days. 

Only then does he recognize the mage as Rhajat of Hoshido. He’d been far too wrapped up in other things during the ball to truly scrutinize her. She’s been stalking both him and his wife certainly since said ball. Previously, he’d believed they had left behind their shadow once the war ended. Apparently Rhajat fell back on old habits without remorse. 

It is only during a much needed lunch break he rounds on his heel, stopping in an empty corridor to again confront this mage. 

“You continue to follow both me and my family around. Tell me, Rhajat, have we done something to cause you offense?” If memory serves, her live was saved by Corrin’s actions. Unless another incident occurred to cause this odd behavior that he is unaware of. “This little game of yours must come to an end. I’ve no desire for any international incidents to arise on foreign soil.” 

Arms rest casually at his sides. He does not truly believe she holds any ill intent, yet he will rest easier once hearing the truth from her own lips. 

SHADOWS CLING TO rhajat’s body as she takes to the corners of classrooms and corridors.  she allows the whispers to fool her into the lulling belief that her presence has been unnoticed without the parchment of a charm sticking awfully tight to her skin.  footsteps masked in silence, each press of her heel against the ground gives entrance for a noise to be imagined but not heard.   (   she learned to walk lightly when she was but a little girl, stuffing a tome beneath her robes and trying to sneak past the caretaker’s rooms in order to make it to her own.   )

rhajat is desperate enough to ignore the sudden silence that takes to leo’s footsteps when he turns a corner, leading into the corridor that faces away from the expanse of classrooms and doorways.  though when diviner realizes that it is a trap of confrontation, it is already too late.  she turns the corridor after him and stops walking, immediately aware of his steady gaze and how it sticks to her.  it is not enough to push her to waver or stagger in her pace; in fact, the realization of the misunderstood air around them pulls her lips to threaten a smirk.

leo’s voice is disgusting.  rhajat frowns and presses the side of her knuckles against her lips, almost muffling her voice once it slips out,   “   do not associate me with hoshido.   ”   a warning.  a threat, even.  for the reason her eye twitches at the implication that any incident that follows her shadow would attach to hoshido’s reputation, an aggravation, annoyance, even more.  hoshido already knows of her presence; as a master would its monster.   “   i have no memory of any game i started with you.  this right here is not a play.   ”

a scowl forms on her lips,   “   and no... your family does not cause me offense.  in fact, i’m quite envious of what you have.   ”   rhajat stalks forward, steps odd and tilting, as if gravity was forever in a fight to pull her down.   “   of who you have, rather... hehe!  how has your marriage been, leo?   ”

(   he is not a prince or king.  not to her.  never to her.   )   this will not please her for long.  still, she entertains the conversation.  the crawling gravel of her voice and how it barely echoes off of the corridor’s walls.  rhajat’s scowl does not lessen up, but there is the glimmer of a smile   —   amusement, thrill   —   in her eyes.

“   go ahead, amuse me with an answer.  my charm work can wait.   ”

for @princepsumbra !!

[tenayalla]

          her grimace deepens into her face at the question.  a reminder that she shouldn’t even be eating this, nor subjecting herself to the horror of whatever this damned piece of cheese is.  but curiosity is a greedy force of nature, one that dragged her to be the very danger she is now.  still, this seems a bit much.   “   flesh.  i dislike the animal’s meat but... diary products are...   ”   she does not get to finish her sentence before disgust pokes her in the stomach.  it is only caused by the wonder that the cheese before them might taste of a pegasus   —   whatever that tasted like; rhajat does not want to know.

            rhajat shoots mitama a glare of low effort in being a true glare, a scoff on her tongue and pride in her words.   “   j-just because my research is not done does not mean that its magic is out of reach!   ”   it’s simply an answer of probability, though mitama was safe from this practice for a multitude of reasons.  one being that rhajat doubted that the cheese would kill her, two being that she wasn’t anywhere near finished with learning and controlling the grasps of reanimation.  even to its smallest level of human life; not faceless.

            “   mitama,   ”   rhajat whines out, a pout threatening to play at the ends of her lips.  she gives only a moment of though and defiance before sighing, giving mitama a defeated nod.   “   let me slice it then... i don’t want a large piece.   ”   if it tastes horrible, she thinks, then at least she’ll have the proper spell to strike herself down with.  or on a more... normal view, the favored fruit to eat after.

            so, carefully, rhajat takes a knife from the table   —   dull, sadly, pulls the plate back towards her side, and slices off two pieces of the cheese.  it is firm enough to not push any concern into her head but still, a pegasus is a pegasus, and she’s certain that one is unable to make... cheese.  by her previous statement, the two pieces are small, too.  not as small as she would have liked, but it is small enough.

            “   okay, come on—   ”   she ignores how odd it feels to pick it up.   “   —no counting, let’s just... no, alright, i’ll count to three.   ”   another pause.  another moment of silence where her focus is so directed onto the cheese and not her words that rhajat waits only a few seconds, no verbal marking of time, before putting the piece into her mouth.

            (   she doesn’t even realize that although the cheese is in her mouth, she only chews twice before freezing.   )

[ “pegasus cheese” ] !!

" try it first, " rhajat says, quickly pushing the plate of fruit and... pegasus cheese towards mitama, " if you fall over and die, i'll be sure to bring you back. " her caution is... unnecessary, but as someone whose diet only consists of spice, fruits, and specific grains... the idea of cheese from a pegasus is horrifying.

Mitama frowns, leaning closer to squint at the plate. "I thought that you did not eat anything that resulted from an animal." She asked, raising a finger to poke the cheese. It was firm...there was that at least. "Or is it that you simply do not consume their flesh?"

Pegasus cheese...there was a good chance that the name was completely unrelated to the make. It was not unheard of, for things to be named such on a whim. How would one even milk a pegasus to create the cheese? Mitama had snoozed through quite a few explanations from Caeldori regarding the care of pegasi, but she was quite certain her friend had never covered the subject of milking.

"Wha- you said that you had not completed your research into reanimation!" Besides, there were certain things in life that Mitama was certain were not meant to be altered, and the cycle of life and death was most absolutely one of those things.

Mitama frowns at the cheese once more. "...a piece of it for both of us at the same time. That is my only and final offer. If not, you will simply have to eat it on your own."

[tenayalla]

[ Romanesco Smoothie ] - A sweet milkshake with a pretty green color. The whipped cream and fruity taste masks the fact that half of this was made with broccoli and other vegetables. Good for sweet tooths who refuse to eat their greens.

"I know you've been following me all night," Leo says without turning around. Her name escapes him, though he does know she's a dark mage like himself. A Hoshidan one at that, which is an anomaly he should be keeping better tabs on.

"If you have something to say to me," prince calls into the shadows, finally pivoting on his heel. "Spit it out. I've no interest in keeping up this game much longer."

Smoothies in his hands drip with condensation, dark spots forming on his gloves from the water.

          his voice threatens to snap the sane coil keeping rhajat’s instinct bundled beneath lock and key.  her eye twitches at the accusation; no matter how obviously true it is.  more so, that rhajat’s lips curl and stretch into a cruel, twisted grin that dips into the skin of face.  amused at the implication that leo has known of her movement within the shadows, loyal to following his figure from the ballroom’s crowded walls to the open space of the marketplace streets.  a proud, definitive cackle almost rises from her throat at the idea that he could have called her out anytime earlier, and yet he didn’t.

            when he turns on his heel, rhajat is right behind him.  peering up at him with a darkened expression; close enough that his occupied hands almost brush where her arms are crossed over her chest.  rhajat giggles, delirious on the annoyance that lives subtle in leo’s voice.   “   ohh, i wish i cared for your interest, prince.   ”   she speaks softly, voice lowered to a whisper, maybe.  just ever so slight.  she giggles again, her grin widening as the silence strikes them curt and invalid.

            “   you could have confronted me long ago, and yet here we are.  you enabled this game as much as i pushed myself into it!   ”

            two smoothies, one in each hand, and obviously both are not just for him.  rhajat imagines   —   guesses, really, that the other is for corrin.  maybe kana.  and it’s that conclusion, drawn from wisps of reality, that buries the greed and envy deeper in her chest.  quiet with the voice in her head, she bites down on her finger and tilts her head.  a hum of thought.   “   aw, but you seem so busy, surely.  ignore little, brooding ol’ me and continue walking.   ”

            quick yet with such ease that it seems slow, she grips onto her card and presses the parchment directly onto the ring on leo’s closed fist.  as fast as the contact comes, it leaves even quicker, but rhajat does not move from her spot.  if the threat of danger ever arose, it’d be leo who would drown from the view of the public.  frightened enough by a lady that he’d attack her for a stamp!  imagine what others would think!

            “   there!  a symbol for corrin to praise me for; befriending the toy prince...   ”

            but no, rhajat’s smile immediately drops in place for a scowl; more natural on a face like her own.  like a corpse to a grave.  a shadow to a candlelit corner.   “   and say now, who might that other drink be for, huh?   ”   the thought of taking one and pressing her lips to the straw, where corrin may place her lips later, is enough to almost cause rhajat to sway and her knees to buckle.   “   two seems quite a lot for a walking corpse, yeah?   ”

[ LEO’S STAMP HAS BEEN ACQUIRED. ]

[tenayalla]

[ Laugh ] - Laughing makes for a natural smile, and so the sender tries to make the receiver laugh for the photo. + [ Bunny ears ] - The sender sneakily puts up two fingers behind the receiver’s head, making them look like they have bunny ears. "What is the meaning of life? No bunny really knows!"

           it’s with great disinterest that rhajat recognizes the heron that makes his way over to her.  she frowns, conflict stirring within her head at the question of if she should force herself to deal with him now or if she should end it all with a flick of her wrist.  rafiel makes it over to her before her mind can lean towards the latter option.  the offer of a photograph is met with reluctance that is only overcome with the gentle persistence of the heron; and the thought of pushing forth a stamp exchange, but that can come later.

            in front of the backdrop, their positions are taken: rhajat with her arms crossed loosely over her chest, one shoulder raised slightly, and rafiel beside her, ever so polite and pretty.  the very nature of the two gives off a hard contrast.  walking parallels to each other.  rhajat notices rafiel’s arm moving behind her and her response is to immediately form a threat that fades from her tongue at the words which leave rafiel’s lips.  it is a joke, surely.  supposedly.  maybe?

            rhajat does not laugh   —   her humor too twisted and cracked to allow this joke to take a hit at her amusement   —   but the expression that becomes of her face is enough to cause the projectionist to cackle as the countdown begins.  one could say she looked horrified, others could say that she looked partly amused.  but whatever it is, is unusual, but as the flash goes off, the projectionist calls it perfection.

            it takes her a moment to recover; the photograph is given to rafiel once it processes.   “   give it to me.   ”   are the first words that leave rhajat’s lips once her expression has returned to something... natural.  if barely suppressed resentment is an emotion she’s most comfortable with.   “   i’m burning it.  give me the photograph.   ”

[tenayalla]

prompt 3. party all night

With the conclusion of the White Heron Cup, this year’s Ethereal Ball is starting to wind down. Most students stay in the ballroom, determined to squeeze more dancing and socializing into this evening. Some, exhausted by the night’s festivities, head off to their dorm rooms for a well-deserved night of sleep.

But the night is still young! And yet more students are eager to party for as long as they can, especially after weeks of hearing that certain intrepid merchants would be selling hot street food long into the night. Wandering into the town square, you find it bright and filled with festivities: warm food, hard drinks, and small houses rented for private parties among friends.

Note: Please remember ask meme etiquette. If you reblog from another mun, be sure to send them an ask. As much fun as it is to receive asks, remember that someone needs to send them first. Pay it forward!

Warm up with some food…

[ Mulled wine ] - Warm red wine spiced to perfection, ideal for staving off winter’s chill.

[ Spaghetti and meatball ] - On top of a bed of spaghetti is a singular, normal-sized meatball. The chef was hoping that couples would insist that the other take the meatball, but more often than not they fight over it instead…

[ Chocolate fountain ] - A seemingly endless fountain of chocolate, accompanied by plenty of biscuits, cakes, and cookies to dip in.

[ “Pegasus Cheese” ] - Zofia’s most famed and exotic export (allegedly). A delicate yet firm cheese with a savory, salty, and buttery flavor that pairs well with fruit. It’s good, but perhaps not worth the price tag…

[ H-True-O Water ] - Originating from an artesian aquifer from the frigid lands of Albinea, this bottled water is boasted to be the finest in the world. With all that marketing thrown at you, you can really taste the difference!

[ Forestberry Jamwich ] - A new invention that is still unknown in Fódlan, this sandwich combines sweet jam made from Fódlan’s summer berries with a savory paste made from ground Dagdan peanuts.

[ Romanesco Smoothie ] - A sweet milkshake with a pretty green color. The whipped cream and fruity taste masks the fact that half of this was made with broccoli and other vegetables. Good for sweet tooths who refuse to eat their greens.

[ Dona Dona Fried Set ] - A full-blown meal all on its own, featuring juicy fried chicken, deep-fried cheese with tomato sauce, and a basket of fried potato slices. Every bite you take tastes so good, but feels so bad.

[ Street Crepe ] - A novel take on an old classic, these handheld, stuffed crepes come in varieties both savoury and sweet. A light and fluffy treat to cap off the evening.

[tenayalla]

[ Glamour ] vampire poses for the twilight book club

            arvis is one of the few people in the monastery that rhajat tolerates and enjoy the presence of.  it’s why when they almost bump shoulders at the ball   —   a threat bubbling in the back of her mouth on instinct   —   the offer of the photograph is asked by her and not him.  he accepts, politely, and the projectionist allows them to take position.  though, in moments of idleness, the projectionist gives them a hint at what pose to set themselves in.  out of the offered options, there is only one that catches rhajat’s attention.

            “   might we borrow fake fangs?   ”   rhajat asks the projectionist, tapping the corner of her lip for emphasize as she continues,   “   my own fangs aren’t as sharp as that of these greed ridden creatures.   ”   surprisingly, the projectionist has them in her bag; rhajat does not question why.  her own fangs grew dull after the constant grinding of her teeth and chewing she took to personal items, so instead, she takes one set of fake fangs and gestures arvis to the next.   “   if we’ll take a picture then, dammit, we better look the part.   ”

            satisfied, rhajat moves back to the front of the backdrop and leans her back against arvis’; leg out from the slit of her dress, one hand raised in a dangerous curl of her nails, and the other hand mimicking the same claw-like gesture but higher.  her smirk is sly, born from the wisps of genuine amusement in her chest.

            hm, even a slip of blood would have fit the photograph’s requirements.  but the flash sparks before them right as the idea comes to mind   —   it’s better, honestly, since she would’ve had to choose a candidate to snatch a slice of blood from... and that took issues and time.  no matter, rhajat’s expression returns neutral as she steps away from arvis, flexing her fingers as the projectionist prepares the photograph and shows it to them.

           it’s... terrifying enough for common standards.  it’d do nothing for their reputation but the closeness of the shot makes the two seem ominous.  good.

            rhajat nods and takes the photograph, presenting it and her card to arvis with a smile.   “   as my favorite professor, i’d like to have your initials to prove that tonight was less of a waste than it’s showing to be.   ”

[tenayalla]

[ THREAD END. ]

tenayalla​:

larcei pulls from rhajat’s grip and the diviner sighs, taking her card from her hand as she lets the snapped headband fall to the floor.  she even makes the extra note of disdain by crushing the pieces of the headband beneath her heel.   “   are you a fool or a child for trying to engage in combat with me over a photograph?   ”   rhajat asks, her gaze disinterested yet focused entirely on the stance that larcei takes.

          she moves her stare to glance at the crowd, content with the lack of any familiar faces that might scold her for causing a scene.  well… the cause of this scene might have been her refusal but the only reason it grew into this is larcei’s clear trait of being unable to take a ‘ no ’.

          there is much to study on both their figures; enough to take in the difference in class and fighting style.  when larcei pulls her fists up in a form of guarding, rhajat only proves herself correct in guessing of the girl’s combat style   —   even so much as experience if she tries to note the tightness of the stance and how she positions her shoulders and feet.  but rhajat isn’t a swordswoman, neither does she utilize any weapon in battle, so her mind can only relay information taken from watching others in battle.

          larcei taps the signet ring and rhajat’s frown deepens, arms crossed as she places her foot back slightly.  her bag of charms, tomes, and ingredients of curses is somewhere back near the front, beside a knight who promised to take good care of her items.  it’s only now that rhajat scolds herself for leaving it, especially when her environment is one that she isn’t used to.  the only tome she has on hand, clipped to the custom belt she has around her waist is….

          rhajat smiles, wicked and pleased with the mockery that has become of larcei’s voice as she circles the diviner.   “   it isn’t necessary to sound so needy,   ”   rhajat teases, attentive of larcei’s pattern of stepping.   “   i’ll get the stamp when i do.  be patient and   —   MIRE!   ”

          her hand presses against the tome on her hip and an outstretched hand aims at where larcei circles in front of her; the accuracy of the reach is off, only slightly, but it’s enough to strike true.  slime, a distasteful but glowing green, gathers at larcei’s feet, quickly surrounding her figure as the spell sparks from rhajat’s hand   —   the sound of footsteps separating the crowd causes rhajat to click her tongue.  of course, such a squabble would bring knights…

          before the slime is set to spark and explode, rhajat closes the distance between them and slips the ring off of larcei’s finger.  thankfully, rhajat’s card isn’t as crumbled as she thought it was, and it’s soon decorated with a fancy print of initials.  generosity in how she even stamps her own ring against larcei’s card after managing to find it.

          “   you might want to answer their questions once they arrive,   ”   she whispers to larcei while nodding towards the approaching knights.   “   oh and please do tell them all of the details of how a dark sorceress set off the spell.. hehe, it’ll do wonders for my reputation.   ”   and with that   —   making sure to set larcei’s card and signet ring on the ground next to her   —   rhajat moves away and slips into the now scattered crowd as the knights finally make it to the center, where the slime has already worn off and set an explosion too small and too light to hurt anyone.

[ LARCEI’S STAMP HAS BEEN ACQUIRED & RHAJAT’S STAMP HAS BEEN GIVEN OUT. ]

for @swiftscion​

The fires of outrage burn bright in Larcei’s smoky eyes. She knew all mages were full of nothing but underhanded tricks! Her mouth opens to scream, her feet move to draw in closer, and her fist rises to throw a walloping punch–all at the sound of Rhajat’s mire–but she’s too late. Her legs don’t move fast enough to escape the collection of cursed sludge that locks her in place. The moment she’s trapped, her bolt jerks backward. All that generated momentum goes absolutely nowhere, serving to enrage her further. 

If Larcei won’t be allowed the opportunity to fight Rhajat, then the least she can do is give some sort of parting shot. “What’s the matter?!” She screams, desperation ringing true in her shaky voice, “Too scared to fight me for it?! You sounded real tough just a minute ago, but now look at you! Too scared to walk up to me and–hey!” The ring is taken off her finger, as Rhajat does indeed walk right up to her. In Larcei’s blind rage, she’d been too focused on attacking the introvert with words to notice that outstretched hand swiping her signet. 

“Grr… Don’t think you’ll get away with this! When I see you around the academy again, you’ll regret havin’ done this to me! You hear me?! You’ll regret this!” At this point, she’s pretty much yelling into an entire crowd of people. Rhajat is out of sight, and instead Larcei can helplessly watch as several of her other peers turn bewildered heads her way. Crimson sears her cheeks as the humiliation of this all settles in, and then the scion begins to struggle.

Her feet wriggle and writhe in the thick substance but to no avail. Rhajat’s magic is potent, and Larcei can’t move more than a few inches in the mire before the knights arrive. She looks at them with shame, knowing well what this situation certainly looks like. 

But before she can get a word out, kaboom! the slime explodes. Nobody is harmed in the attack, but the goop sprays out on both the authorities and Larcei. Her dress and shoes are ruined, but to make matters worse, so are the splendid outfits of the knights. They weren’t too pleased with Larcei before, but now that their night is ruined too… You get the picture. 

“W-wait! I’m not the one you’re lookin’ for! If you let me explain, I’ll tell you how this isn’t my fault!”

END

[tenayalla]

swiftscion​:

The moment that headband snaps, all restrains break from Larcei’s mind. No more is this petty squabble about wearing a dingy little accessory: it’s centered around broken properly, insulted pride, and an awfully sour attitude. The scion’s blood roils with red-hot rage at the sound of Rhajat’s threats. Just who does this woman think she is?! If it’s a fight she wants, it’s a fight she’ll get. 

Looking at Rhajat’s hands, and then her own, she comes to the realization that she’s got nothing to fight with. Bare knuckles would have to do.

“Hmph! If you think I’m leavin’ this ballroom without that photo, you’ve got another thing coming!” She’s gotten louder now, much louder. With ashen eyes trained so viciously at a soon-to-be opponent, nobody else in the gathering peanut gallery matters. 

Teeth grit and grind as Rhajat’s figure is eyed by the other girl. Nothing too bulky, from what Larcei can tell. She might not be the best at her studies, but combat smarts are without a shadow of a doubt her area of expertise. She can deduce from Rhajat’s form alone that she wields no heavy weapons like axes or lances. Either this woman is a sorceress, and an easy victory, or a fellow myrmidon–making this battle one about honor. In either scenario, striking her down for the sheer nerve she’s displayed on this night seems a fine course of action for Larcei.

“See this?” She then taunts, pulling her fists into a guard, “If you want my stamp, why don’t you come get it?” To emphasize this point, the signet ring is given a few taps. If Rhajat’s a smart enough girl, she’d be able to understand that Larcei intends to stamp her face with a swift right hook. If the lack of gloves makes this fight potentially unsafe, the addition of their rings brings it up to downright dangerous. 

But does Larcei care? Things are heating up now, and the bouncing on her toes should tell you that the answer to that question is a resounding ‘no’. 

Her face has moved on from anger to a taunting smirk. Someone should’ve definitely went to get one of the knights when she begins to circle Rhajat, but the crowd’s eyes seem to be glued to the spectacle. 

For all of them, Rhajat, and Larcei, this night is shaping up to be one to remember. 

          larcei pulls from rhajat’s grip and the diviner sighs, taking her card from her hand as she lets the snapped headband fall to the floor.  she even makes the extra note of disdain by crushing the pieces of the headband beneath her heel.   “   are you a fool or a child for trying to engage in combat with me over a photograph?   ”   rhajat asks, her gaze disinterested yet focused entirely on the stance that larcei takes.

          she moves her stare to glance at the crowd, content with the lack of any familiar faces that might scold her for causing a scene.  well... the cause of this scene might have been her refusal but the only reason it grew into this is larcei’s clear trait of being unable to take a ‘ no ’.

          there is much to study on both their figures; enough to take in the difference in class and fighting style.  when larcei pulls her fists up in a form of guarding, rhajat only proves herself correct in guessing of the girl’s combat style   —   even so much as experience if she tries to note the tightness of the stance and how she positions her shoulders and feet.  but rhajat isn’t a swordswoman, neither does she utilize any weapon in battle, so her mind can only relay information taken from watching others in battle.

          larcei taps the signet ring and rhajat’s frown deepens, arms crossed as she places her foot back slightly.  her bag of charms, tomes, and ingredients of curses is somewhere back near the front, beside a knight who promised to take good care of her items.  it’s only now that rhajat scolds herself for leaving it, especially when her environment is one that she isn’t used to.  the only tome she has on hand, clipped to the custom belt she has around her waist is....

          rhajat smiles, wicked and pleased with the mockery that has become of larcei’s voice as she circles the diviner.   “   it isn’t necessary to sound so needy,   ”   rhajat teases, attentive of larcei’s pattern of stepping.   “   i’ll get the stamp when i do.  be patient and   —   MIRE!   ”

          her hand presses against the tome on her hip and an outstretched hand aims at where larcei circles in front of her; the accuracy of the reach is off, only slightly, but it’s enough to strike true.  slime, a distasteful but glowing green, gathers at larcei’s feet, quickly surrounding her figure as the spell sparks from rhajat’s hand   —   the sound of footsteps separating the crowd causes rhajat to click her tongue.  of course, such a squabble would bring knights...

          before the slime is set to spark and explode, rhajat closes the distance between them and slips the ring off of larcei’s finger.  thankfully, rhajat’s card isn’t as crumbled as she thought it was, and it’s soon decorated with a fancy print of initials.  generosity in how she even stamps her own ring against larcei’s card after managing to find it.

          “   you might want to answer their questions once they arrive,   ”   she whispers to larcei while nodding towards the approaching knights.   “   oh and please do tell them all of the details of how a dark sorceress set off the spell.. hehe, it’ll do wonders for my reputation.   ”   and with that   —   making sure to set larcei’s card and signet ring on the ground next to her   —   rhajat moves away and slips into the now scattered crowd as the knights finally make it to the center, where the slime has already worn off and set an explosion too small and too light to hurt anyone.

[ LARCEI’S STAMP HAS BEEN ACQUIRED & RHAJAT’S STAMP HAS BEEN GIVEN OUT. ]

for @swiftscion​

[tenayalla]

[ SACRIFICE ]:     knowing that the circumstances only allow one of them to survive, the sender sacrifices their life in order to guarantee the receiver’s survival and safety.

settling dust   (   cw ; death, implied suicide   )

          there was a time where death had brought its scythe close to rhajat’s neck.  where it watched the blood trickle from the flesh of her neck, unamused and assuming of every stutter that her heart made, wretched within her chest.  she had been a young, young girl then.  clutching a tome to her torso and wheezing past the knot lodged in her throat   —   unable to mutter anything coherent through the blood filling the space of her mouth.  death watched her as she spit out fear in strings of saliva and blood.  death watched her grow up, then.  in that shrine, with the world trapped in her fingertips.

          and now, death watches her as her world is torn from her again.  always taken away, never given, because not even a damned soul like hers deserved to carry the weight of something so beloved.  so free.  so alive.

          she is not a child here, nor is she unfamiliar with the graze of death but she has never felt this pain that seizes her heart and threatens to crush it beneath the earth and sky.  the horizon where she witnesses the sway of corrin’s cape as she rushes in front of her.  it is all too late, rhajat knows that death never leaves a job unfinished.  it always leaves with something in hand.  something to drag out of the living world.

          rhajat expects to feel warmth beneath her fingertips when she reaches out for corrin; assurance, maybe?  or the comfort of still having.  but it’s nothing alike it.  her fingers close around air, nails digging into the torn skin of her palm, and immediately, it sets off the buildup within her throat.  she sobs into the ground, shoulders violently shaking as guilt slips from her lips in screams.  anger focused on the untreated depression of loss locked into her chest.

          she wishes to forget corrin’s last words, those of adoration and certainty in survival but it had not been her own.  she wishes to forget that corrin’s last words will forever be toward her and that they had not been one to aid the selfish tragedy in her.

          none of it will matter.  none of it will prove to be essential because it is not corrin’s arms that pull rhajat from the ground, nor is it her hand that wipes away the dirt and blood and tears on the diviner’s face.  none of it will matter because rhajat will join corrin; how else shall the delusion of having still live within a dying girl’s chest?

          so rhajat laughs it off   —   cackles to her heart’s content once the pain seizes her throat and lungs.  there is smoke and guilt and satisfaction but no regret, never the hurt of self-sacrifice.  she will remember corrin as a goddess, as the hero of beauty and valor, and she could care less for whatever it is that she is remembered as.  as long as they are joined beside each other, it will not matter if their graves are buried on the same hill.

          she’d be damned if she left corrin alone   —   you cannot rid a monster of its desire, no matter how desperate.  no matter how disgraced.

[tenayalla]

that’s my bestfriend and she’s a - & mitama

verseandrhyme​:​

The fates, for once, seem to favor Mitama’s intent. She calls out and Rhajat stops. It is her, undeniably, even if her friend refuses to look at her and wears hesitation like a blatant cloak over every line of her. Joy surges in the place of an absent void Mitama had been refusing to acknowledge - Rhajat, her dear friend. Others of their group had arrived, certainly, Shigure and Siegbert and Ophelia and Kana, many more besides, but Rhajat was a story all its own, a fondness built over hours of shared solitude.

And yet that joy is not shared.

Mitama’s smile wavers as Rhajat’s hesitation persists. Her fear - fear? from Rhajat? - is clear when the mage glances back over her. Mitama can see no source, nor can she think of any reason why the mage might not share her elation unless…

The seed of doubt is planted and buried deep. Mitama’s smile is all but gone by the time Rhajat speaks up, finally.

“It is fine…” Because it is. If it is Rhajat, Mitama does not mind waking. Does not even feel the need to demand a tithe or repayment for her solace being interrupted after all that has transpired between them, all the hours and gifts they have shared. She cannot help but wonder if that is no the true source of it, not when Rhajat continues to look uncomfortable even after she gives her the requested penance.

“Bad?” Mitama repeats. What is she meant to take that as? Hurt pangs absently in her chest as Rhajat attempts to move away from her further. Attempts to brush this all away. “What is meant by bad? Hang on.”

Mitama pushes herself to her feet, scowling. “No, we may not dismiss this as a simple figment of dreams. Do you think yourself so insignificant in my mind that I might not wish for you to be a part of my reality?” Or was it the opposite. Was it that after so long departed, Mitama had become so impermanent a figure in their lives that they might discard her? Remove her from whatever place she had managed to make for herself in their hearts and-

Mitama forces her thoughts to an abrupt stop by closing her eyes. She takes a deep breath, slow and steady, before allowing her stars to emerge once more as she looks to her friend. “I was unaware you had even wanted to venture to Fodlan, let alone that you were here.”

          rhajat watches as mitama rises to her feet, disappointment and confliction keeping the diviner from stepping back on her own account.  she ignores the pain of seeing mitama’s smile fade gradually as the moments pass; a reminder that the immature, pitiful urge which brought her here was something to be looked down upon.  for it is the reason behind the change of atmosphere   —   is what rhajat tells herself.  though it is an impossible feat to believe a lie that falls from a disgraced soul’s lips.

          a repeat had been made of rhajat’s words but she is unable to elaborate as mitama speaks.  though small, she still frowns,   “   nothing of the sort.  i doubt that you would have allowed me to wake you without payment if so...   ”

          there is something wrong.  there is something off and suffocating but rhajat cannot focus properly to find what the cause of this feeling is.  instead, she attempts to focus on mitama’s eyes, the intricacy of her pupils always brought forth a calmness like no other   —   but mitama’s eyes are closed and rhajat finds a staring partner with the ground.  her thumb tilts in her mouth and the skin on the pad of her thumb threatens to break.

          she nods with a sigh,   “   i did not wish to come here and my arrival wasn’t too.. long ago.   ”   immediately, rhajat catches the slight error of her words, so she speaks up again.   “   no, i... i didn’t want to come here for fódlan’s attractions or education.  from your letters, it has told me all that this isn’t a place of which i’d find amusement.  gods, my short time here has already been hell.   ”

          the people, to begin with, were entirely too eccentric.  too loud, too persistent with their voices and opinions and whatnot.  rhajat even had to sneak away from the tour she was given upon arriving here simply because the classmate giving her the tour was frustratingly bizarre with her manners; there wasn’t a rule on needing to embrace every new classmate, so why was she held so tightly when the tour began?

          she isn’t sure how to say her thoughts without sounding foolish.  pathetic, maybe.  but in front of mitama, she who has heard and witnessed many of her vulnerable moments, this shouldn’t be as hard.   (   it isn’t.   )   “   my network in hoshido has reached to nohr but even the magic there has limits that this continent’s magic doesn’t.   ”   rhajat pauses,   “   and maybe i wished to be in the presence of a friend, again...   ”

          lonely.  she hates the word but it is correct in this sense, no matter how unfortunate.   “   i was not going to tell you of my arrival, at all.  this was supposed to be a quick change of setting... i’d follow you and the others for a bit, have my mind cleared, and return to hoshido immediately after.   ”   it does not sound like the apology in her head; she isn’t sure if this is the reason why she said it in the first place.

for @verseandrhyme

[tenayalla]

[ Cheek ]

She waves down Rhajat very enthusiastically--all of the excitement around her is just too contagious, and she will get one of these silly little pictures with everyone from home if it kills her. It's just a sweet little press of her lips to the other's cheek, followed by a happy little giggle just after the camera flashes.

          there is a force, unknown and undesired, that pushes rhajat to follow corrin’s gesture, no matter where the location is that the goddess beckons her towards.  she follows alike that of a nun walking the steps of a blind following.  she follows as if any other direction would strike her down immediately for seeking attention from anyone else.  she follows and does not realize that she has, once again, put herself in a daze until corrin’s arm is wrapped around her waist and the projectionist’s small smile enters the corner of her vision.

          even still, she would not care for the teasing look   —   can not care for the look when corrin’s so warm.  so inviting.  her smile is a force of nature’s blessing all in itself; for each joyful twitch of her lips, the delicate curve and the weak, delirious smile that it brings to rhajat’s own lips.  it is a gift from the gods above and although she is unsure of her deeds that could have brought such a prize, she is grateful.

          gratitude quickens the beating of her heart   —   rhajat’s gaze drifts to the ground for a moment, only that, and the soft kiss pressed to her cheek brings such a reaction that one would be correct to think that rhajat is hopelessly enamored with the lady holding her.

          the smile she wears on her face soon widens, to an extent where the smile appears too soft and the blush darkening her cheeks seems too heavy.  it is a deed in itself that rhajat manages to stop her knees from buckling, it gives her an excuse to cling onto corrin and press her face against the goddess’ shoulder.

          she does not hear the flash of magic until it has already passed.

          rhajat ignores the projectionist’s voice as she comes over to them, cheerfully stating that the photographs had produced perfectly.  that they were theirs to take.   (   theirs; possessive usage of a word, surely.  right?  theirs as in something that they own together.  something to cherish that is theirs and only theirs.   )

          “   th... thank you,   ”   is all she mutters against corrin’s shoulder.  she does not push herself to look at the photograph; is it shame that forces this restraint?

[tenayalla]

continued from here ; @swiftscion​

"What?!" Larcei immediately snaps, all but ready to take no for an answer, "But it'd look so cute on you! On us! We're supposed to wear these together!" Being the stubborn thing she is, Larcei refuses to back down. Her face boils with a cute anger, reddening almost entirely. She's damn near ready to puff out her cheeks and stamp her foot down to make a point, but is trying to rein things in a little bit for the event.

"And it's a dance! We're supposed to have fun! 'Don't think dyin' instead of wearing a silly little headband is part of the fun."

Grumble grumble. What's this girl's deal? All the swordswoman wanted to do was try on a pair of kitty ears with her! It's such a simple task, and yet here they are. Though it'd be much, much easier to pick a different prop like Rhajat suggested, denying Larcei anything is like trying to rip a toy from a dog's mouth.

She's going to bare her fangs and hold on as long as she can.

"Ugh, you need to calm down! It's just one picture; nothin' to get all antsy about!" One picture that, should it spread, could easily ruin the dark and mysterious image Rhajat's created for herself. Plus, Larcei is very clearly the one who needs to calm down here. But let's not tell her that, yeah? "Why'd you even show up to the ball if you're just gonna be a big party pooper like this?"

She then huffs, and you'd swear you could visibly see some anger being blown out of her. As one can expect from her, she's gotten quite loud in her dialogue with the Hoshidan. A small group of people--be they students, faculty, or otherwise--are beginning to eye the situation. Not like Larcei cares to notice, however.

          the snap in larcei’s voice is instantly met by rhajat’s scowl; fingers twitching from where they’re holding out the empty stamp card.  she can’t see anything but a small, whiny child in front of her.  a girl who won’t shut up and listen when told.  she doesn’t see herself.   (   she supposes that this is why her anger begins to flair up easier than before.   )   rhajat diverts her gaze to the ground and stares hard, attempting to push the thought back and tie it down.  with time, it’ll work.  with time, she’ll calm down.

          but larcei doesn’t stop.  her voice continues to whine and squeal and talk, by the gods she won’t stop talking.  rhajat ignores the trembles that cling to her spine, the envious shudders that attempt to press her mind into what she could do and how great it would feel getting rid of the lady in front of her.

          larcei groans and continues with her spew of complaints; rhajat does not move.  mitama would be disappointed if she disposed of someone here.  what would kana think?  what would corrin think?  the judgment of it all   —   probability, the catalyst of her anger   —   keeps rhajat’s hand still from where it’s reached out.  spots of darkness scatter in the corners of her vision as it blurs; she’s been staring for too long, but larcei has yet to take a pause and breathe so neither will she.

          it’s larcei’s final question that yanks rhajat out of her daze, gasping slightly from the mere moment of losing herself.  then, within seconds, rhajat crushes her card and the headband in her hand.  the material of the headband snaps immediately and she raises her gaze to glare at larcei, her other hand coming forward to yank at the collar of larcei’s dress and pull her close.  it’s then that rhajat takes notice of the people looking at them   —   she’s unable to see if a head of pink hair is peeking from the outside of the crowd.

          “   if you have an issue with my presence here then i can certainly rid this ballroom of one of us.  although, i will not promise that the method will be painless.   ”   there is an incantation in her throat, one that would take effect immediately after being spoken.  but rhajat smiles wickedly and, unlike a smile, this look seems perfect for her.   “   i asked for a stamp and i will get a stamp.  the question is, will you give it to me kindly or shall i take it by force?   ”

          if she wished for a picture so badly, then rhajat will give her a picture.  surely, the projectionist wouldn’t mind snapping a beautifully taken picture of larcei’s corpse.  wasn’t grave work such as this, something looked high upon?

          “   hehe, i can even give this crowd the dance of suffering that they so badly desire~.   ”

[tenayalla]

[ Meow ] - Headbands adorned with two cat ears, perfect for hissy felines in human suits.

Tap, tap, tap, tap! The sound of swift footsteps could be heard behind the Hoshidan as a swordswoman of astra, eager to make friends, approaches her. Dances are hit-or-miss for this little lass, but the photo machine seems like plenty of fun!

"'Scuse me! Your outfit looks real pretty!" Rhajat's shoulder is prodded by a Larcei standing on the tips of her toes, with giddiness written all over her. "But if you ask me, I think it could use one of these." She then presets a set of cat ears to the other woman, with its accompanying pair in Larcei's other hand. She probably wasn't allowed to take those from the prop table, but let's not worry about that.

"I was thinking we could get a picture together? Oh, and then maybe exchange stamps! My name's Larcei, by the way. Nice to meet you!"

          it’s the tapping that almost brings out rhajat’s flight or fight instinct; unable to keep herself from worrying if the rapid footsteps were approaching her or someone else.  and the dragons mock her futile attempts at comforting herself when her shoulder is touched and the footsteps fade behind her.  she could ignore them and run.  but she doesn’t   —   a scowl settles on her lips as she turns around, disinterested in the giddy joy pulling at larcei’s expression.

          if she were a sensitive little thing   —   maybe the girl of her past   —   then she’d blush at the compliment, except all she does now is blink.  then she sighs,   “   thank you, i suppose.   ”   but larcei continues, obviously with an idea in mind, one that rhajat hoped would fail immediately.  maybe she would trip.  maybe she would stumble so stupidly over her words that she’d walk away embarrassed.

          whatever it is, rhajat doesn’t expect is for larcei to put an unusual headband into her hands.  a headband that threatens to snap in her hand when she closes her fist; humiliated at the mere idea of wearing such a prop.  and with a stranger at that!  not even hayato would be able to bring her to such a low image... is she lying to herself?  who knows.

          “   no.   ”   her answer is slow, still processing the headband she was given.  rhajat glances at larcei with a frown,   “   if you want a picture with me, then choose a different accessory.  i’d rather die than wear that.   ”

          rhajat is kind enough to not throw the accessory away, instead pushing it back in larcei’s hands.   “   stamps are fine.... i guess.  the name is rhajat,   ”   and it isn’t nice to meet her but that would be needlessly rude; almost snapping the headband in half was enough to this poor lady.  after another moment of pause, a continuation of shock, rhajat holds her card out for larcei’s ring to make its print on the first line.

[tenayalla]

"Hey, babygirl, what's with the brooding look?"

Dagr gives her best smile as she jogs over to Rhajat.

"Don't need to look so glum anymore, your sun's here! C'mon, give me a smile. You'd be so much cuter if you smiled! Well, not that you aren't cute already. God, you look like a million gold! How about you and me get outta here for a bit? I know this great place on the grounds, super romantic. It'll just be the two of us..."

          the call of babygirl causes an instant reaction from rhajat.  horrifyingly so, especially since she hadn’t thought that the voice was calling after her of all people.  but the fates have deemed her unworthy of peace for tonight and, upon turning around, rhajat is greeted with the... oh gods, she’s tall... the disgust that darkens rhajat’s expression lessens but it refuses to allow her glare to fade, nor the curve of her frown to disappear.

          with every step forward that dagr takes towards her, rhajat takes three back.  the smile she’s given is awfully bright and it almost makes her faint from exhaustion at the simple sight of someone so... loud and terribly, terribly joyful.  and when the cool stone of a column touches her back, rhajat realizes that she’s stuck between dagr and the wall.

          if her belief in the fates and dragons above proved to be anything real and desired, then she would have prayed for something to strike her down on the spot.  before dagr closed the distance between them.  before rhajat would have to resort to pulling someone’s soul from their body.

          “   this brooding look fits me.  i like to be broody.  unapproachable, even.   ”   rhajat crosses her arms over her chest, teeth coming down hard on the pad of her thumb.   “   leave me alone, i’d like to brood alone.   ”

          but no, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?  because dagr doesn’t leave her alone and rhajat becomes more horrified with every word that falls from her lips.  being hit on isn’t... new to her, she’s had women and men confused on whether they should bow to her or run away, but dagr’s persistence, the timbre of her voice, it all syncs perfectly together, as if it’s natural for her to slide up to a lady and speak this way.  as if rhajat didn’t have the ability to fry her and her foolish words to a crisp!

          (   she almost feels guilty when her gaze travels across the reception hall around the two ladies, a silent, almost pathetic attempt to find mitama or ophelia or even kana to run to.  thankfully, she has not yet crossed that line of weakness.   )

          like a moth to a persistent, undying flame, rhajat’s attention is pulled back to dagr at the mention of a shared moment of solitude.  even if it was... unfortunately shared with someone like the lady in front of her, solitude would always be a treat for rhajat.  but...

          “   romantic.... actually,   ”   rhajat smiles, lowering her hand to grab at dagr’s arm; a dangerous tilt of her head, one used for many a scenario such as this.   “   sure.  why not?  you cannot keep me for long, i did come here tonight with a.. partner.  but please, lead the way, miss...?   ”   mitama wouldn’t care if she practiced a curse or two on a dear such as dagr, right?  someone so lovely, so earnest; surely, there isn’t anything wrong in seeking solitude and indulgence.  oh she had many curses to choose from...

[tenayalla]

continued from here ; @verseandrhyme

          rhajat keeps the glasses, glaring at the projectionist when she’s given a teasing smile; the brightly colored frames would have to be changed... nothing that a flick of magic can’t fix.  for now, she folds them and laughs, raising an eyebrow at mitama.  despite her sarcasm, rhajat hadn’t been joking about the ache in her cheeks.  smiling always did that to her, as if to punish the face for being unable to form a basic expression, one that it should be able to.

          “   you give me too much credit.  how are you sure that it doesn’t look completely horrifying?   ”   many reasons why she couldn’t allow it to look horrifying but she allows the thought to be entertained.    “   i might have to take you up on the offer, smiling is awful.  and do not thank me for such a thing; i put up with you because i want to.   ”

          she catches the way that mitama’s smile wavers at the topic change, no matter how slight.  if not for a father’s stubbornness reborn into her chest, she would have dropped the subject all together, but it’s something that needs to be spoken on.   (   she cannot deny that the two of them   —   claude and mitama   —   looked lovely together.  their energy was one that rhajat could already feel from the letters she received from the shrine maiden before her arrival here.   )

          the projectionist cuts mitama off and rhajat shoots her a look before stepping closer and peering at the photograph gifted from magic.   “   i’ll speak with claude tonight and attempt to get on his good side.  but yes, i... question your judgment of others.  must i remind you of... pah!  never mind.   ”

          there’s no use in bringing up things of the past.  besides, her attention is focused on the photograph in mitama’s grasp, more so on the two fingers of hers that peek up from behind mitama’s head in the photograph’s freeze of time.  when her name is called, the laugh she releases is genuine and loud, a cackle of amusement.

          “   do not worry, remember.  the photograph is beyond perfect!  muahaHAHAHA—!!   ”

[tenayalla]

         If not for persistence, Rhajat wouldn’t be here. And she doesn’t want to be here. Definitely not standing before the doorway, slipping a ring on her finger, and sharing her name with the Knight in front of the reception hall entrance. She doesn’t want to be here but... hasn’t she spent enough time away from her friends? Wasn’t the entirety of the emotion that made her come to this forsaken continent surrounded by feeling lonely?

          Rhajat enjoys the whispers of the dark, the cold that comes with it, but there is also enjoyment in feeling another’s warmth within that darkness.

          She doesn’t want to be here, but she wants to be with those who call her a friend. She wants to enjoy maybe a sight of watching Corrin spin on the dance floor, a sweeping dress on her figure, or maybe even the glance of Mitama taking the night as a moment away from slumber. Ophelia and Sharena are expecting her to be here and by the Gods, she refuses to be taken out of her room forcibly by either of the two extroverted ladies.

          ( She can allow herself a moment of indulgence tonight. There is nothing wrong with that. Altena seemed overjoyed being paired with someone... it’d be disappointing if Rhajat didn’t show up as promised. And maybe it’s that, the promise of seeing someone happy by her presence, that causes her to enter the reception hall. Maybe not. Who’d be sure of it? )

          Goodness, she should have brought a cloak or something of the sorts. This dress is... unlike her normal mage garbs. Oh well. Rhajat couldn’t change back now.

RHAJAT’S LIST OF ENGAGEMENTS; ( a newly worn ring, signed off in ink on the gem with the initials of RU. )

- LARCEI

- VELOURIA

- MERRIC

- ARVIS

- LEO