Pro Vitis Horum

#sara ;; immovablewill #//MILKY I AM SO SO SORRY THIS WAS SO DELAYED //#Thread: my compass was WHAT?!

SAILORS, he would be lying if he said he found the presence of the bunch endearing, even now the private vessel docked north of Nod-Krai is entirely unmanned for that exact reason, and yet he's found himself resigned to a civilian vessel from the time being, all identifying markers as to his presence cast into the sea long before they embarked the vessel. Rumours have been afoot of late, another of Gold's creations come to surface, and he cannot rely on the lineage of the Marshall Knight to deal with the threat resurfaced.

It takes little more than a half second's gaze to realise how wholly his entourage has managed to outnumber the sailors, as his gaze turns to the young woman before him, mulling over the information supplied by a long life to put a name to the face before him. Once, amidst his time as a fatuus, a file had crossed his hand regarding Rosalyne's death, and yet the person before him is no more responsible than anyone, one 'Kujou Sara' if his mind is doing him any service.

It is only when she holds the ale to him that he pulls himself from the stupor, raising an eyebrow beneath the masque at how effective pulling the iconography of the Fatui from his outfit has been as he nods a polite refusal. "Alcohol will only hinder the hunt I'm afraid, as it stands, it would seem our captain needs it more than either of us." The man can barely stand it seems, swaying from side to side like a fish out of water even as the Harbinger's agents rush to keep him steady.

His gaze turns towards the horizon, to the brewing storm that heralds a season's worth of snow and ice. The waters south of Snezhnaya are never kind, and the ashen features of the sailors tell him that none of them were half as prepared for the weather that awaits as they once claimed to be.

"There's a storm coming, and a nasty one by half..." A grumbled expression, watching as the clouds turn white as snow and waves calm as if awaiting the edge of the tempest. "Lead on, it seems that our... hosts were more than unprepared for the weather that awaits, nor the nature of the creature they prepare to hunt." He can feel it in his limbs, that ancient ache as fire crawls beneath his skin, warning him of the sinner's gift that awaits beneath the tides.

In haphazard rhythm does his shoes thump against the deck, hand itching to draw his blade and cast it deep into the lunar kissed tides. "Have they told you ought of the beast they hunt? It would seem they have left you woefully unprepared for the nature of the abyssal creature that awaits. I would advise doubling the fabric you wear, and be prepared to assume the helm should the worst come to pass."

[RING] (ty dm for your service)

Had she not been so used to the bone-deep chill of the Abyss, she would have gotten off of Belobog the moment she arrived. At least this 'Underworld' was a bit warmer. Especially when her blood was pumping with adrenaline from a good fight.

"Phew. You all certainly give my enemies a run for their Mora. Who's next, hm?" Starry eyes scanned the crowd outside the ring. A good portion was battered and bruised, courtesy of her skills. She raised an eyebrow as her gaze fell upon an imposing figure. Even with a helmet, she knew of him. Knew he brought a good battle.

"You." She spoke, the point of her blade just a few feet away from his chest. "Come. I'm sure you wouldn't say no to a quick spar, no?

"Traitor." There is no other word needed for the woman before him, not as the blade at his side oozes a vicious purple. He knows, he felt the pain wrack through his body at the machinations of a nation that wants little more to live in peace. No, there will be no kindness in the weight of the blade, nor the power that seeks to remove head from shoulders, for he refuses to recognise that false lineage any longer.

Enemies, he could almost laugh at that, at her belief that those enemies weren't brought upon by her own hand. All it takes is the beat of a wing for him to kick off the ground, the blade extended to maim rather than kill as it passes by golden locks in a sea of frost. Once, he would have hardly dared to raise his blade against her, yet the kingdom she seeks to revive is not the kingdom he loved.

"You dare to show your face, expect cordiality... Princess of the Abyss Order?" A sea of relentless near misses, flakes of snow and ice spread around the arena almost haphazardly before a gesture has great pillars rise from the earth like a trap. 8 pillars with 8 walls, a star of ancient design as he turns his back to the betrayer, calamity attracter.

"They say to kill a star is blaspemy, they said nothing of leaving it within the ice... Lumine."

#ghsnowswept2025

[ SONG ] - Nothing raises spirits quite like music, and nowhere could possibly need their spirits raised more. It only takes one person with an instrument and someone to start to dance before a little section of the city becomes just that much brighter. Grab a friend or a stranger and take a moment to forget about the worse things in the world.

As the voices rise and fall, Alhaitham looks up from his reading. It's loud—but not in the way that bothers him. It is simply the sound of people making the best of their situation. They're off-key—a few of them are singing the wrong lyrics entirely.

Alhaitham looks at the silent man sitting near him—one of the few, aside from himself, who haven't joined in on the joyful tune that the people have struck up. He's from Teyvat too, Alhaitham remembers. But the thought does not foster any familiarity; not when he remembers that mask.

THE VIOLIN COMES EVER SO EASY TO HIM, a string of notes familiar to his like the shade of a long gone past and yet it is still so sombrely calming as the music of Khaenri'ah begins to echo high into the night sky. The vision bearer that sits beside him sparks memory, a report from Sumeru and yet Zandik's hubris is of little interest to him, not when it involves the youngest of the seven.

So instead he continues to play ever silently, not sparing a glance even when the book is pulled from coat to be read by candlelight. Sumeru has never been of interest to him in life, not when most was merely a lifeless sandpit that tried and failed to hide the gate to hell. Icy hues track the children that dance too close to the fire, a wall of black ice rising to move them back even as he plays, content in the silence of the damned like he has so often be bathed in.

Only when the festivities begin to die down does he turn his head slightly, caring enough to address the scribe sitting in silence. "How intriquing, surely a humble scribe would be best at home in the libraries of the Akademia than on some foreign world..." He does not stop playing, does not even turn his head in acknowledgement as he watches embers begin to burn themselves into nothingness.

"Or have you chosen to allow the Fatui to commit blasphemy against your Archon?"

#ghsnowswept2025

Sentinel: A winter night's reprieve

The Captain is off being the captain, I fear. His coming and going can hardly be considered something to be tracked, and all the better to his liking. Some have managed to find him and some have not, yet that is all the better for the 1st who willingly looses himself in the wilderness.

[Part One] // [Part Two]

Plains: Paimon Museum: Childe // Layla Fight Club: Kachina // Topaz // Lumine Settlement: Ororon // Venti Admin:

#ghsnowswept2025 #.tracker

[LATE]

Ororon wasn’t drunk, but he also wasn’t sober either.

As the Museum winded down for the evening, and most of the visitors had left, a few individuals decided to stay to enjoy the more calming atmosphere than what could be had during working hours. There was chatter and the occasional laughter that caused Ororon’s ears to twitch on the top of his head. The young man, while a majority of the time was so full of spirit and smiles, always so eager to introduce himself, was standing by his lonesome between a couple of the displays. Not really reading the plagues but just looking down at them despondently as he was lost in his own thoughts.

His eyes shift down to the half-drunk beverage in his hands that absolutely was not to his taste at all. He remembers ordering from the person who was serving the drinks, at first, asking if they carried any Fire-Water, in which he received a strange look from the guy and an outright denial of carrying the substance. Now, he was nursing his second drink, a brown liquid he couldn’t remember the name of, but it’ll do. A chuckle escapes him as he remembers, so long ago, a denial of a second drink from the Captain when he had requested another, the memory brings a smile to his face before falling just as fast.

It’s been so long since the Captain’s sacrifice to restore the Ley-Lines in Natlan. Lying dormant on a throne of his own making, but the sequence of events still pains him even now. He grieved for a long time. Visiting the throne almost daily to the point where he would leave everyday items there, knowing that he would be back sooner rather than later. It’s… been a while since he last visited the Captain’s tomb as the reconstruction of the Tribes had taken priority at the time. Getting over the loss had been rough, but I guess it is painful when you lose someone you considered family.

Tears began to well in his eyes, but he didn't allow them to fall. Letting out a shaky breath to calm the bountiful emotions that want to spill out of him. He looks up from his drink to try and distract himself, but his eyes widen a fraction when he sees a (familiar?) tall figure. Both the haziness in his mind, and eyes full of tears not helping in the slightest to his plight.

No. That can’t be he’s…

Ororon makes his way over, his heart pounding in his ears. His own eagerness causes him to trip over his own feet and into them as soon as he got close. He wraps his arms around the figure, trembling.

HE WALKS AMIDST THE NIGHT IN A SUIT AS BLACK AS THAT DISTANT SKY, passing through the crowd like a phantom of his own creation, even as he watches people dart between exhibits so full of life that he cannot help but commit those faces to his impeccable memory. Thrain can hardly remember when this became his role all those years ago, yet the memories are not lost, merely stored away so this corroded form no longer suffers beneath the strain of centuries worth of memories.

He sees the boy long before the boy sees him, the hood pulled high over the head in an attempt to block the world from appearing within that narrow space to call one's own. The glass is both half full and half empty as he slows his approach, makes himself stand out amidst the crowd even as heterochromatic eyes search across the icy steel in a mist of recognition tinted with the shadow of regret.

Has the boy been well? A question oft asked of the laylines yet one he cannot bear himself to hear the answer to, allowing his consciousness to recede every time the angel attempted to speak to him of it. Some things he feels are best left unknown, the condition of his once charge included amongst the sea of unknowns he left behind when that unending mission finally came to an end.

YET, it is the impact against his chest that pulls him from his melancholy, the feeling of a trembling figure against his chest that anchors him to the world as a steady gauntlet comes up to hesitantly pat against the back. Silently, calmly, the glass is removed and set aside, spiriting the young man out into the wintery air lest the atmosphere become far too much for the young man with a silvery soul to handly.

"Calm Ororon, let the tears stop themselves, you will feel better when you do..." No, the captain cannot fault him, and yet comforting him is far beyond the abilities of the ancient knight, a task he once willingly left to his soldiers and yet none of his loyal comrades exist here to help him, and so he must learn.

#Ororon ;; gardenvampyr #tw; alcohol #cw; alcohol #alcohol mention #ghsnowswept2025 #//apologies for the delay_!_

【 ✦ 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐁 】 the air is thick with the smell of sweat and your ears ring with the sound of loud cheers and disappointed yells. there’s no place for elegance here, only who could land a clean hit first! the rules are simple: bring your weapons, your gadgets, and what have you! today is special, today you can go all out. j-just be sure you don’t kill each other.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐒: nothing escapes death. no amount of hymns sung in reverence, sacred salt spilled, nor blood spilled in sacrificial fervor can alter the fate that awaits every being that draws breath. there lies only those before the boundary and across.

*𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: there’s no escaping death, except for a few specific situations. talisman-clad zombies, ushering herbs; ghostly whispers drawn forth from ancient leylines; and curses of immortality set upon by the ruler of death. such peculiarities are not within ███’s grasp, nor within her realm of understanding. in a world where truths and fact are elusive, certainty is a luxury few can afford.

[ 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒: before her towers the rotting corpse of a man, and she is fairly certain that this should not be the case. ]

❛ captain. ❜ the title dies from her lips, her knuckles now ghostly white as they gripped her staff with an iron resolve. a world record met: she’s speechless. because what else could there be to say? she had never offered her respects before he departed from this realm, neither had she found the courage to do so during their second meeting. now, as she points her weapon toward his throat, she grappled with the absurdity of it all. the harbinger is no armored monster to be vanquished, nor is she a silver-haired heroine destined for glory. never mind their massive difference in strength——what was she trying to accomplish here?

❛ captain. ❜ regardless, she summoned the strength to utter his name once more, stalling for precious seconds. ❛ capitano, first of the fatui harbingers. ███’s sure you have an idea why she called you here, s-so she doesn’t need to explain herself! ❜ smooth ███, very smooth, he’ll never catch on.

she closes her eyes, inhaling deeply, as if that alone could draw courage into her small frame. instead, only the gnawing urge to flee claws inside like a wild beast, desperate for escape. she knows if she surrendered to the fear, if she buckled to her knees and wept for the whole arena to see, she’d be let go without a word.

but it’d be worse than losing: it’d be dishonorable. no, she may not be a hero, but she must press on———finish what she impulsively started.

❛ not sure what your terms are but, if ███ wins, you owe her a bowl of bread soda iceberg. a-and, we’ll have a long proper talk about aaalll of this. ❜ damn, she should’ve challenge him to a competitive eating competition. she would’ve smoked this guy. ❛ and, she hopes you won’t mind she’s taking the first swing! ❜

there was only one way she could defy the stacked odds against her. ███ vanishes backwards into starry ether before reappearing above the captain, polearm raised like a comet streaking through the night sky. imbuing the weapon’s tip with a faint, ethereal yellow glow, she prepares to unleash her signature move, the only one she had ever truly mastered: bonking the enemy straight on the head!

THE NAME SPOKEN ALOUD IS STATIC TO HIS EARS, a dangerous, fractured symphony that makes the angel that lay hidden within his fractured soul recoil in horror. SPACE twists and warps around the fae flying high into the air, as if there exists a boundary of false stars to hide the visage which shimmers amongst the broken steel. He has seen this only twice before, the coronet of constellations that perverted the order of space, the sky so distant. Yet she can be neither of the two he knows, nor one believed to have associated with the treacherous Gold.

HE had sat upon the throne of the Sentinel Reagent, fallen through fire and snow to arise once more amidst a barren wasteland as the demonic silver heavens shone overhead. Yet even those endless troves of knowledge that lingered amidst the branches of demonic silver and heavenly gold did little to dispel the ringing static in his mind, to give clarity to the seas of unending noise that screamed of the name being false, of the identity false and heavens rent asunder by fury of false gods.

"Come, ███, let us end this once and for all!" The name is a curse, a blasphemy as the world shifts, as snow is replaced with seas of lava, the narcissistic ticking of a false god's clock echoing heavily in his mind as the ice once clear as crystal is stained a deep and ominous purple in his hand. This is a power rarely used, trained in secret in barren wastes as the Abyss calls to him, begs and pleads to be used as a weapon like it had once before. This is a power designed only to take, to corrode and malign until all that is left is the sweet touch of nothingness on a winter's day.

A raise of the blade, bringing the purple dyed edge of the damned's blade up to crash against the polearm, letting the corrosion of ice seep deeper and deeper into it as the fae, as the ███ is pushed back by a blizzard of his one design. Light after light bursts into nothingness, leaving the ring clad in the darkness that Khaenri'ans had become so accustomed to, save only for the two pearls glowing cold blue amidst the shadows.

-> @moonpiety

#THIS WAS DISCUSSED WITH FRILLS #paimon ;; moonpiety #ghsnowswept2025

Thrain: After the races

(N.atlan AQ Spoilers within)

The winners are called, as so he is content to depart into the night once more, travelling far out amidst the frozen snowfields in search of the crack in which he fell through before the trotter pops into existence beside him. He hadn't expected it to follow him so far beyond the bounds of the city, and yet it stood there by his side, prepared to remain defiant like it's namesake

#ghsnowswept2025 #// this has been living in my mind since it started

THE HOME STRETCH

GHSnowswept2025 - Final - Mydei, Kazuha, Capitano

Autumn had a small lead on the other two, seeming to take the chance to slow their pace. Perhaps preserving their stamina for later? Or maybe they only felt tired. Either way, it was an understandable choice to make.

Autumn has moved 1 space Remaining stamina: 3

Unlike either Kazuha nor the unknown warrior, Capitano seemed to know well how to train the trotters. Perhaps that was why Guthred was so quick to rise in the race. An experienced trainer likely went a long way.

He really does have tea on him, always. Is there a tea set in his coat as well?

“Quite alike,” he agreed, “their priorities might skew simpler to ours, their inner worlds different to ours but their personalities hold true. Fine companions, aren’t they?”

#ghsnowswept2025 #mini event: trotter race #naturesmessages #mydcimos #thread: the home stretch

He can't help it, he smirks, feeling the wind turn almost completely still, as the snows begin to pick up in intensity as his gaze settles on the trotter digging deeper into the ground. There is a trick amongst a certain species of Saurian that he went to great effort to teach, watching as ice blooms like flowers as Guthred sprints into the lead.

-> Guthred sprints 5 positions, 3 Stamina remains.

"Hmph, it would seem the lessons paid off after all." A simple statement, savouring the minty Snezhnayan tea as his gaze shifts between the two around him. There is time now to observe, the way a hand remains steady by the hilt of the blade, the way another seems out of sorts with the nature of the world, as if they come from some far off place where the ways of the star are distant.

"Treat them like a companion, like a trusted ally, and it would seem the limits of their natural strength are far beyond our comprehension." A sage node, watching the way eyes strayed to his tea flask with veiled amusement at the reaction to a habit he has yet to every truly shake, perhaps he'll return to the palace soon to replenish his supplies after all...

THE HOME STRETCH

GHSnowswept2025 - Final - Mydei, Kazuha, Capitano

Kazuha glanced over at the unknown warrior, it seemed there might be some complications between him and his trotter? Curious. His gaze drifted to the race below, turning softer. It seemed Autumn had followed their wishes, keeping their pace up as needed.

Autumn has moved 4 spaces (balance check success) Remaining stamina: 2

Being spoken to, Kazuha turned to face the other. Is that how it appeared to him? They wouldn’t particularly say they knew how to best treat Autumn, this was new to them after all.

He hummed, as pets? Curiosity swirled in their gaze as they waited fore the other to continue, it seemed this was the complication between Honeycake and himself?

Perhaps he is unused to animal companions?

Their gaze drifted back to the trotters on the race. “I suppose not, they seem to fear very little from what I’ve seen?” He glanced back over at the warrior, still pacing.

“I would say they respond well to gentleness, that is if Honeycake is at all like Autumn.”

#ghsnowswept2025 #mini event: trotter race #thread: the home stretch #mydcimos #naturesmessages

-> Guthred slows his pace, recovers: 2 Stamina

To focus is to calm the mind completely, to lull oneself into a state of complete calmness until everything ebbs away, so the Captain watches, watches as Guthred slows to let others overtake before his attention is turned back to the conversation he has long since withdrawn from. "Beasts they may be, yet little can be said for how reliable companions beasts can become with a mediocrum of respect."

In truth, he has little experience with these trotters, merely calling upon centuries of stored memories of those the world left behind. There is a similarity here, to be found between Saurian and Trotter, as his brings him clawed digits to his lips to signal for Guthred to slow himself as ice blue eyes shine behind the blackened veil.

"Some respond to encouragement, some to a fiery spirit and some develop on their own, rather similar to humans in a way don't you think?" A question posed to both before a flask of tea is pulled from his coat and raised to his lips. Perhaps he should bring the saurian back to Natlan after all, it would trive amongst the tribes for it's strength of will alone.

THE HOME STRETCH

GHSnowswept2025 - Final - Mydei, Kazuha, Capitano

#ghsnowswept2025 #mini event: trotter race #thread: the home stretch #naturesmessages #mydcimos

THERE IS A NOSTALGIA TO BE FOUND HERE, stepping into the trainer's booth for the final time as the owllike being toots endlessly over the speakers. 6 have entered together, yet only one can be the one to claim overall victory as his gaze falls over everyone from the Night-Wind Elder to the unfamiliar warrior to his right. No, his resolve is inviolable, staring out to meet the trotter that looks to him with a steely gaze, resolute in desire to win.

"Embody him well." It's a simple command, yet one heavy in laden thoughts as he waits, and waits until the clock strikes noon and the single shot echoes in the air. It's dangerous really, the way Thrain hyperfocuses, ignores the people around him to encourage his trusty companion to move forward.

Mist condenses to Ice once more, carving out a path forward as Guthred leaps high into the air, carrying themselves forward ever so slightly before the ice does the work for it, letting it carry them into an early lead and yet neither trainer nor trotter can allow themselves to become complacent...

So Thrain turns to the people beside him, pulling out the sandwiches, made from a local delicacy, and offering them to the gentlemen on both sides of him. "Come, we have time, why not indulge in some food while we wait?" Food opens the lips, and he finds himself rather intriqued by the Inazuman and the unknown warrior.

𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗠 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗠⠀──⠀⋆˙⛃

#GHSnowswept2025⠀∶⠀𝗜𝗣𝗖 ★ 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗘 ,　semifinals.

A TITLE INSTEAD OF A NAME　♤　is a bit of disrespect to the introduction he'd given out of goodwill, but he doesn't dwell on it for long. the captain. . . of what, he can't help but wonder. but a potential answer starts to form a moment later from the other's continued discussion with the fortress' duke. at first, he doesn't think twice at the next title provided, picking up the cup of tea offered instead and examining its dark and aromatic contents. but then it comes back to him——the knave. was it the same knave he'd met before? northland bank, snezhnaya——the more he considered it, the more it seemed to add up.

waiting until after the captain answers the other young man's question about the tea blend, he takes advantage of the lull in conversation that follows to ask him.

"if you don't mind, i had to wonder: are you involved with the harbingers of her majesty the tsaritsa? ' the knave '——i've had the pleasure of acquainting myself with someone by that name." and the two of them had mentioned something about an incident involving her children earlier, he remembers now——more likely pieces falling into place.

grand salami sprints!　roll ,　4　|　position⠀11　stamina⠀1

if the captain's whistle had stalled the other trotters into obedience, it only appears to spur grand salami into action. seeming to recognize that its rival has pulled too far ahead to pursue, he redirects his attention to the frightful trotter that'd been keeping to the outer circle for most of the race as it makes a bid to draw up behind him——with another aggressive squeal, rounding toward champ with head low to butt and push him back into his place.

#ghsnowswept2025 #mini event: trotter race #naturesmessages #avcnturine #dukemeropide #thread: i ham what i ham

THRAIN CANNOT HELP BUT LAUGH INTO HIS CUP, turning his attention to the young man from Inazuma for a moment when he asks about the blend. "A local blend from Nod-Krai, someone I once knew was rather fond of it, so I've made an effort to keep some on my person lest they appear unexpectedly." A rather large oversimplification of the nature of Fatuus Tea Parties, but still, some details are better left unspoken.

"Ah, you've picked up on it, perhaps I should introduce myself properly... Il Capitano, the first of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." A former title in truth, and yet he has little in the way of desire to give up on the title at the present juncture, not when the sanctity it offered gave him more leeway to move than some of the other titles he's amassed over his long life.

-> Guthred SPRINTS across the Finish Line

A loud yip pulls his attention away from the enrapturing conversation that has managed to truly amuse him, watching as mist turns to ice as Guthred leaps high into the air, using momentum to carry themselves over the finish line... before moving sideways and turning around, as if staring down the competition that has once barrelled into it's side. "Competitive, aren't they? It would seem Grand Salami has earned themselves a rival. Wouldn't you agree, Wriothesley?"

𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗠 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗠⠀──⠀⋆˙⛃

#GHSnowswept2025⠀∶⠀𝗜𝗣𝗖 ★ 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗘 ,　semifinals.

Like an autumn breeze, there are moments of steadfastness and then calm. Kazuha noticed the way their trotter seemed close to exhaustion, too close for his comfort.

“It’s alright, you do not need to go right now, rest easy.”

Autumn looked up to where Kazuha stood, seemingly looking for directions. The gentle gaze of his seemed to be enough for they took a moment to rest, inching only a little farther.

Autumn moved 1 space Remaining stamina: 2

Now seemed as good a time as any to take a bite out of a few snacks of theirs, the race seemed to be slowing down now. He glanced at those beside him, ah, still discussing business. Snack sharing could come at a later time, unless they spoke up.

#mini event: trotter race #ghsnowswept2025 #dukemeropide #avcnturine #naturesmessages #thread: i ham what i ham

"Wriothesley then, as for myself Mr. Aventurine, you may call me the Captain if needs must." A pause, turning his head to the track as Guthred begins to slow, bringing fingers to the inky veil covering his features and letting out an almost shrill whistle, akin to that of which the natives of Natlan use to calm their saurians.

The effect is almost instant, Guthred's pace slowing to just barely stay ahead of the competition while Capitano turned his attention back to the three men in the box, excusing himself for the briefest of moments before returning with a still steaming pot of tea and four cups with which to drink it.

-> Guthred paces themselves! Moves 1 position and restores 2 stamina.

"My arrival here was due to a rather unforseen set of circumstances I'll admit, but the Northland Bank is always looking for more and more opportunities to expand their offerings as it were." The man has done his research, so much so that Thrain cannot help but feel a little impressed as he purs the four cups of tea out to offset the chill on the wind. "I myself have found that recreational activities work wonders for ensuring morale is kept high."

A slide of the cups in four directions, each trainer ending up with tea in front of them in what seems to be a trick of the light. "As for your question Wriothesly, I have not personally seen the Knave, but that has ever stopped her from eluding my attention before."

𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗠 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗠⠀──⠀⋆˙⛃

#GHSnowswept2025⠀∶⠀𝗜𝗣𝗖 ★ 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗘 ,　semifinals.

AS SOON AS HE'D SEEN THE NAME ,　♤　he'd almost thought it had to be another ' wriothesley ' out there. but maybe he shouldn't be surprised that the scrupulous duke who'd fought his way to the top of the underbelly might show his face for an old-fashioned trotter race. "ahaha, if that's the case, then it's my pleasure. someone else was telling me something similar——it looks like grand salami's caught plenty of attention at this event. his real handler should be the one out here, taking all the credit."

since the other two seem to be more focused on their little fighters in the race, aventurine turns more toward the duke in monochrome ; there's no doubt grand salami can handle running by himself with or without encouragement. he's pretty sure it wouldn't make any difference to a headstrong creature that already had its own goal in mind, racing belligerently after its new rival.

grand salami sprints!　roll ,　3　|　position⠀6　stamina⠀1

"speaking of which, luck must be smiling on me today: i've been meaning to tell you about a new project that's been in development, one i think the residents of the fortress might be particularly interested in. it's a simulation game——at least for now. still in the launch phase. but it's already proving pretty lucrative, and a place full of ambitious entrepreneurs is the ideal testing ground to figure out where the bugs are, as well as how far it can go."

"of course, recreation isn't its only purpose. but we can talk more about it later if you'd like, and i can even show you the ropes."

#ghsnowswept2025 #mini event: trotter race #dukemeropide #avcnturine #naturesmessages #/oop

"Hmph..." A grunt is the only answer he can give before his composure and air of military decorum breaks easier that it feasibly should infront of the man that he can only assume is Fontanian. "No doubt the planet's peculiar atmosphere is to blame, the cold is rather unlike that of Snezhnaya or Nod-Krai." An unsubtle namedrop, half turning to the duo of gentlement while keeping an eye on the noble creature calling upon cosmic ice at will.

-> Guthred SPRINTS 5 POSITIONS, remaining stamina: 1

"You'll have to forgive me, I am rather... terrible with names, this project of yours, the Northland Bank would be rather interested in making... an investment of sorts." Pantalone's coin purse is far too tight in his opinion, and making further outreach will surely benefit their interests in the long run. Yet, it becomes a game almost of waiting to see if the rather.... vibrantly clothed fellow will take to the offer.

Fortess... suddently the Fontanian casing makes a rather sizeable amount of sense as his voice is forced to keep steady. "Ah, of course, it is rather rude of me not to greet you formally, The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide correct? I believe you had some dealings with the children of an associate of mine recently. I have no desire to interrupt your dealings, but on behalf of the Northland Bank, allow me to foot the bill, the least we could do after that unpleasant business."

How interesting the hand of fate swings....

𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗠 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗠⠀──⠀⋆˙⛃

#GHSnowswept2025⠀∶⠀𝗜𝗣𝗖 ★ 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗘 ,　semifinals.

And so he returned to the trotter race, Autumn ready to go. Or so they assumed. It seemed one of the competitors near them was the one with the ever infamous Grand Salami. Perhaps they would speed ahead as they did before.

“Go forth, my friend, to your path forward.”

A gentleness remained in his gaze towards their trotter, and so the race began with Autumn…

Autumn moved 3 spaces Remaining stamina: 3

… running as fast as their little legs could take them. It wasn’t very far but Kazuha’s smile remained the same, fond.

“A great start, keep it up. Don’t overdo it, however.”

What a hardworking trotter they had. The win did not matter so greatly to him, not as much as the trotter’s happiness did. So long as Autumn remained content as did Kazuha.