Claire Keane
hello vonnie
wallacepolsom
🪼
taylor price
Stranger Things
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Kaledo Art
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
AnasAbdin
dirt enthusiast
Monterey Bay Aquarium
#extradirty
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
DEAR READER
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Mike Driver
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
ellievsbear
seen from Iraq
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Spain
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seen from Norway
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seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
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seen from Lithuania
@ardoves
— ardoves: closed & affiliated rose from fire emblem: shadows, golden deer student at the officers academy . as loved by alina ( she / her )
(stats / dossier / interview )
home is where you are
aphotic mission board: sword +1
"Haha, it makes you wish we had spent more time watching the chefs cook rather than trying to get them to sneak us snacks, doesn't it?" Kurt laughs softly, reminded of all of the times childish curiosity had gotten them herded out of the kitchen. Beyond being royals, they had been as nosy as any regular children, drawn away from their play by warm scents wafting from the kitchen. "Perhaps they would have let us watch more closely if we had sat quietly."
Now that they're older, that chance is slim to none. They have grown into their roles as royals, as employers and overseers rather than mere observers. If they stood around in the kitchen and watched now, it would carry the weight of making a judgement on those laborers. Rather than the young prince who would one day marry Holtz's princess, he was now an exiled prince with only the clothes on his back and the retainers at his side.
It wouldn't be a surprise if they herded him away from the kitchen for a different reason these days.
Kurt weighs the vegetable knife in his hand; lighter than your average dagger, but a heftier shape meant for cleaving and chopping rather than stabbing. If he were on the road, he might consider using a dagger just for familiarity, but that might draw some ire in a shared kitchen space that already has knives set aside for cooking.
"The shape and size are different from I'm used to, but the method shouldn't be too different," he nods. "Just, er, don't look too closely if the pieces are slightly different sizes."
Rose echoes with laughter of her own, the whistling of silver chimes somewhere distant and familiar all the same. "It does-- oh, but those were such fun times."
There is a sigh in her voice that is wistful if not a touch forlorn. A longing for years long past that has been carefully folded in layers of nostalgia. Those were happier, simpler times. It is ill befitting of a ruler to shrink from duty in favor of reminiscing upon a world where the weight of it had not settled so soon, and even more so of a girl as diligently optimistic as herself to shut her mind to the possibility of the future being just as happy. But it will never be quite so simple again, and that she quietly mourns.
"Maybe we'll have to pay the kitchens a visit next we travel to my home," the idea is posed with none of the concerns that cloud Kurt's own mind, though this is oft the case. Hers is a flowery dream of the fire-warmed kitchen and their fingers intertwined, the chefs smiling when they pause to ask questions. It is a distant thought still, that she will soon be somewhere else's queen and no longer just Holtz's princess.
She watches the other test the knife, tilting her head with amusement as though he had just made a joke. "I don't imagine anyone will be looking so closely."
Their little list returns to her hand to be puzzled over once more. Cutting things is a safe start, yes, but then what comes after that? Surely they are not merely to dump all of these things into a pot and call it edible. But then are they to cook the individual ingredients? That would make sense, she supposes, but then...
"How does one cook... carrots..?"
— flight response ⭑.ᐟ
( freaky ghost house - rose & ronan )
Even in a place as bustling as the town of Garreg Mach, there can be found little secrets tucked away in forgotten alleys and abandoned streets. Among such secrets is a two-storey manor not far from the central square, average in all ways except for the fact that it’s stood empty for who-knows-how-long. Lacy drapes still frame the dusty, vacant eyes of windows, and the stone pots sitting along the porch hold the dried, dead remnants of what had once been flowers, suggesting that the house has never been fully relinquished to another owner. Although it’s gone unnoticed for quite some time now, rumors about hauntings and paranormal activity in this house have begun to circulate among the students of the Officers Academy. It’s said that this house - colloquially called the Lily Bolden House, after its last owner - contains the vengeful spirits of the Bolden family murdered by one of their own, and that they kill all those who dare set foot inside. So, naturally, as confident as you are in your own abilities to escape certain death, you’d want to see this for yourself, right? [Grants Authority +1]
It's still daylight out, the sun's light framing her silhouette perfectly in the doorway where she has frozen with a hand still on the knob. Dust hangs in the air like a film, catching and dispersing the evidence of the outside world into something to further obscure what lay within. It turns Rose's posture stiff, her throat coarse. She chances a glance over her shoulder.
She is... not entirely certain why she has come here, exactly.
Rumors, the sort that are more akin to daggers, have never been much for her interest. Nobility has their share, of course, and her brow threatens to furrow at even the thought of what has now come to feel so distant. It just isn't her idea of fun, whispering behind the backs of people she does not know well enough to speak to the faces of. What is the point of developing theories on strangers, what with the perfectly ample ability to simply learn the truth from the source. And make a friend while at it, perhaps.
But these rumors, the ones that have put a chilling wind beneath her wings since she heard them, aren't that. They are like a fantasy, a book she might have picked up in the library on a particularly quiet evening and thumbed through until the sun sank and her lamp ran dry. Only they are not fantasy, or at least she doesn't think they are, which is why she has let a half-concocted plan coax her through the streets and into this doorway. Which had been a lot less scary in her mind, somehow.
A cautious step forward is answered by a loud groaning from the floorboards, which send her feathers all aflutter in the same motion of surprise that brings her hands to cover her mouth and leaves the door to slam behind her, earning another jolt of surprise as she swivels to catch the last rays of light just before they're gone. Her fate sealed then, she supposes.
"It's fine, it's alright. Nothing to worry about, just breathe." The sweet, quiet warble of her voice is for none other than herself, a careful breath out to steady her feet beneath her. "Just remember why you're here, Rose. You'll be quite alright."
Why she's here, yes that. That which wasn't really sure of approximately two steps ago, and that which she has decided to become most certain of now that she is past the point of no return. It had been a silly, perhaps naive thought: If the spirits of the family are in such anguish, perhaps they want to be in this home as little as any visitors. Not that she is the best of priests, or trained in the faith even half as much as even an okay one, but she knows how to pray. She knows that sometimes having anyone to pray for you at all doesn't make it much matter whether they are particularly good at it or not.
Clearing her throat and shaking what she can of the fear from her feathers, Rose takes a step forward.
"Hello, is anyone there?"
Her only answer is the floorboards again, whining in time with the shifting of her weight.
"Hello?" Louder, this time, with more confidence. "If you can hear me, I promise I do not mean you any harm. I would like to help you."
Darkness breathes chills down her spine even as it straightens, like a hundred hands reaching for the sliver of skin on her neck, begging for the feeling of something living. Rose takes another step, another. A humble foyer, she thinks is what she is standing in. The sound of her voice seems to echo in here, distorting back towards her until it sounds like a stranger's.
"My name i-ACK!"
The squeaking of hinges and the trembling of the building as the door behind her swings open again send Rose staggering backwards. It's all a blur of hazy light and adrenaline, a panicked fumbling for a means to escape only to realize that she is only falling further into the horrifying home and cornering herself, sending a fresh wave of fear through her. With a gasp, her back knocks against some odd piece of furniture, and pain lances through her wings enough to leave them too stunned to slow her collapse into a heap upon the floor. Arms raise above her head, defensive, anticipatory magic warm beneath in the tips of her fingers.
"Please, I do not wish to hurt you!"
@seawardoath
home is where you are
aphotic mission board: sword +1
Maybe it's a little silly, but being called upon for cooking duty feels a bit like being on the road again. Not in the stressful sense where he needs to constantly check over his shoulders to make sure no one is following him, but in the way that it is refreshing to be included in the menial chores for once. Even if he feels a little lost in front of the large piles of ingredients, the fact that he is included at all despite his status feels meaningful.
...But still, it does feel a little unfair to hand him in particular a recipe that lacks any actual steps. Where to even begin? Soups and stews are fairly simple as far as dishes go, but don't they still require a certain familiarity with food preparation?
"Rose," Kurt says sheepishly. "Do you think people will mind terribly if we... er, improvise a bit here? I'm not really sure what to make of this soup recipe."
He leans in to let his fiancée get a closer look at the recipe that would be more accurately described as merely just a list of ingredients.
"Going by the ingredients, it sounds a little like something they've served me when I visited your home when we were younger, but it seems like it's missing something. Maybe it's a vegetable? One of the spices?"
@ardoves
The sound of her name turns her head, the array of kitchenware she had been pondering forgotten in an instant in favor of Kurt. An answer is half formed on her lips, chirped reassurance— that she's sure nobody will truly even notice— that is forgotten in an instant as her gaze flits over the "recipe."
"Hmm..." A once over, a twice over. "Yes, I think you're right. Let me think-"
It's a sweet sort of irony, that someone else's homesick request might have been her own on a different day. Of all things, they've been handed a rather easy task for all but the lack of direction. A small mercy for two people generally considered above a skill set such as cooking. Teeth worry her bottom lip a moment longer in thought, wracking her mind for what final piece could possibly be missing.
When it doesn't come to her, she offers the other an apologetic little shake of her head.
"I'm sure it will come to me once I taste it. Maybe you'll even remember, yourself." A smile for him, one that lingers just a bit longer than she means it to, before her gaze returns to the list and then all that has been procured from it in preparation for this. "We'll just have to guess a little bit, I suppose. How are you with a knife? It's not so different from a sword, surely."
She plucks a few carrots from their pile— a safe place to begin, she reasons— and sets them neatly on the wooden slab meant for cutting. "If it's anything like what we make back home, these will need to be cut into smaller pieces."
— SOMETHING WICKED THAT WAY GOES .
but you're awfully familiar with shadows, aren't you, little miss ?
He had to leave. Why did he allow himself to get to this point to begin with? What shame, what disgrace. What would Fáfnir think if he saw Ótr mingling with such people? Living underground like some sort of rat—though he supposes his mere existence is no more superior to that of a rodent, not anymore, not ever since that damned Summoner took him away and made him into a Hero. Now he could not even die with dignity. Now he could not even die at all.
But that would not stop him from trying. Sweet release was all he had to look forward to. Quietly, he crept up the ladder, blending in with the shadows which seemed so plentiful in the Abyss. He moved past the guard, past the people. He had a knack for disappearing, which was good, because he had to leave. He did not know where to, just knew that he should.
He made it to the surface, where the half-moon greeted him with dim light. He pulled his cloak closer around his body. It was rather cold tonight, but that did not matter. It would be colder where he ended up if things went well. He was no longer afraid of these things, besides. The cold, the hunger, the feeling of being alone. He was a useless child no longer. He was something else, something wicked.
He stuck close to the shadows. His back pressed against the wall, and he kept his breathing light so as to not leave silvery wisps of breath.
Now just go through the gate and find a way to scale down the mountain this academy stood on—but as he made his way toward it, something else caught his eye. Or rather, he was caught in theirs?
"Gah!" The figure's sudden appearance startled voice out of him. He did not dare believe what he saw. A head of blue, a round, red face? It could not be—it should not be. Yet in Ótr's mind, she was all he could see. Did she always have feathers, or did she assume the form of a valkyrie to mock him? He did not doubt Reginn's capability to haunt him even now.
A hand went to the knife he had kept by his belt. His eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing here, so late at night?" His tone held venom, as if he were some diligent patroller and not some wretch trying to escape paradise, "Shouldn't a girl like you be in her room?"
@ardoves
It hadn't been with any odd intentions that Rose was out at such an hour.
The night's breeze ruffles the fabric of her nightdress, brushes across her cheeks what strands of pale blue have fallen from her ponytail. She had simply struggled to fall asleep, that was all— and wouldn't anyone, so far from home as she has come?— the siren's murmur of a breath of fresh air and a moment beneath the stars too sweet to ignore. It would set her mind at ease, shake the worry from her wings.
Would, because the suddenly threatening hiss of a shadow startles a gasp from her, heart leaping in her throat. Rose blinks thrice, fingers poised over her lips and wide eyes searching the stranger's face. They drop to his hand, to the weapon he must be reaching for.
"I was... merely taking a walk..." She must be imagining it, the way he speaks as though he knows her. In the shadowy veil of moonlight, she thinks his eyes far angrier than any guard's should be. No, that cannot be why he is before her.
From her lips, her hand falls to clutch at the fabric over her chest. She is unarmed, her magic ill suited for something like this. A knife will find her jugular much more quickly than she could possibly incapacitate him. Feathers rustle, she takes a step backwards.
"Is something the matter? Are you alright?" He won't lunge for her, she tells herself. Not if she isn't a threat. Naga, may her wings be faster than his hand if she is so terribly wrong. "Please, I have no ill intentions."
That peaceful daybreak comes once more
[Apothic] - Routine shopping trip - w/ Rose
LOUIS CANNOT CLAIM TO BE ENTIRELY SURE WHY THE NEWEST GOLDEN DEER HAS BEEN ASSIGNED TO HIM, not that the knight minds, persay, he is after all one of the few content to remain behind to greet any new arrivals while the main host of the student body was occupied elsewhere. Yet, work is work so he heads off in the direction of dorms with the lance on his back and the shopping list firmly tucked into his pocket.
Even the dossier on the student is filled with precious little other than a name, and yet the once knight can find himself respecting that scarcity, an opportunity to form his own opinion on a student he doubts will be in many of his classes, still, he's been surprised before. There isn't much he can claim to be able to teach her, flying had always been more of Chloe's speciality than his, and yet that hardly meant he was going to skirt around showing her around as best his knowledge allowed.
A pause infront of the ornate door, two knocks before the slightest thump of heels against the floor meets his ears, shifting and waiting patiently as the soft summer sun overhead continues to pierce the fleeting clouds. Yet by the time he snaps out of his thoughts, a young woman stands before him, taking him aback and making him check the arm on the file under his arm. "Rose of Holt?" Her gait screams nobility of some sort, and yet he keeps old habits of appearing resurgent.
"You'll have to forgive me, my name is Louis, I'm one of the professors here at the academy and was asked to show you around." The slightest hint of a bow, unable to keep from chuckling within his mind at the woman who reminded him of a dear companion. "No doubt you'll meet more of the deers over the coming days, but for now, would you care to accompany me? I found the best way to learn the ins and outs is to start with the markets, with luck we may even find a few imports from Holt on our travels." He remembers what it was like to be a new arrival once, and to this day tries to ensure others don't feel quite as displaced as he had at the time.
-> @ardoves
Her door swings wide to a stranger's face– one that she finds is surprisingly soft for the man who wears it. "Yes, that would be I. Is... everything quite alright?"
Pale eyes round at their edges, feathers rustling as he explains himself. She had not been advised to expect him, or asked if she was interested in an escort, but she supposes this sort of thing must be customary if he has appeared before her. This is a prestigious academy, after all. It... makes enough sense.
( Even if she couldn't begin to place why the market could possibly be the best place to start... )
Still, Rose has never been one to turn down an innocent offer. It's a good opportunity to get her bearings, and the mention of imports from home do stir a quiet longing in her. Homesickness is ill befitting of a princess, and so it is swallowed with a gentle nod. The door to her room is shut behind at her back, the front of her skirts smoothed, the ivory down of her wings folded neatly at her back.
"I would be most happy to," the answer comes with a sweet smile, "and it is nice to meet you, Sir Louis. I'll admit I am... surprised. I hadn't expected your arrival."
His lead is easy to follow, her footsteps light and carefully picked along the way. It's hard to keep her gaze any one place, the monastery's sprawling grounds seemingly in never-ending supply of things to take in. Students gathered in the courtyard– some napping, others studying, a few laughing beneath the shade of a tree– it is impossibly warm a feeling, to be surrounded by.
"You've been a professor here long?" Fingers lace behind her back, all of her distraction forgotten for a moment's question. "The people here... they have all been so kind. It must be quite a lovely job."
I did a thing
