wyvern lord.

Independent Gerome from Fire Emblem: Awakening RP blog. Friendly to all!

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

of wyverns.

[bewitchingflower-blog]

Camilla glanced at Minerva somewhat chidingly. 

“There, there… No need to be like that… I won’t hurt you…”

She returned her focus to Gerome. 

“As you may know, we don’t get many visitors in Nohr… It doesn’t have the most inviting atmosphere, you know… So I like to take on these sorts of tasks. And since it involved wyverns, of course I was quick to accept…!”

She turned towards the castle’s entrance.

“This way please, Gerome… I’d like you to meet my wyvern. Her name is Marzia…”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

Minerva snorts again, but Gerome suspects her unease is just due to an unfamiliar environment, and less so because of Camilla herself. At any rate, Gerome nods at her explanation and obediently follows her toward the castle’s entrance-way, noting both the similarities and differences that the place had when compared to Ylissean architecture.

Nohr looked about ten times more...intimidating. Aggressive. Warlike. He supposes it’s only to be expected...

“...A good name,” he remarks, truthful. “How long have you flown with her?”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

heaven and earth.

[felldivine-blog]

“Right. And keep an eye out for any Magic,” Morgan returns, keeping the warning in mind. Gods, she hated wyrmslayers… it was always a pain to defend against. But that was okay… she was going to be sure that her plan will work. They’ll be no miscalculations on her part. The first Risen that comes in range of them and Gerome lobs his head off. That sets the whole chain of events in motion.

And they fight! The forces that were chasing them were coming down upon them at a chaotic rate. The Risen that come towards her heed their commander’s will, with wyrmslayers in hand. Swiftly she flies around the trees, trying to elude their mindless slashing. Even a small nick of the tail would hurt like hell to her… curse those sharp edges! But that was also okay. The moment that Morgan saw an opening, she unleashed two streams of blue-white fire upon the Risen. Among the fire, the disintegration of their bodies was evident from the fading purple smoke in their place.

Success! But there were more where that came from. She still had to make that path towards that commander. Man… she was going to sleep hard when this is over.

“…so uh, does he want to capture me or kill me? Seriously, stick with one command over there!” she commented, her comment more of a taunt than a joke. Gods, sometimes she just wanted to fight the Risen. Sure, they just moan and growl ominously, but at least they weren’t spouting nonsense… er, most of the time.  While the Risen were attacking herself and Gerome, the Grimleal only bide their time in the distance and wait until they’re weakened to strike. Pah, Amateurs. Perhaps… if she would clear out the Grimleal in the distance and force them to out themselves before they could move and strike… it was worth a shot.

While she endures the spears grazing upon her scales, Morgan inhales so that she could launch another fireball from a distance. This time, among the hidden. “Gerome. I’m gonna make you a path here.” she signals, before unleashing her fire towards the trees. A flash of engulfing fire shines bright when it makes contact with the earth, but Morgan does see a few heads clearer now. Hopefully clear enough for her companion to strike.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

Mages and arrows could be damned, as far as Gerome’s concerned. They’ve got the blessing of cover and a bit of low morale amongst the enemy--perhaps even some coordination loss due to the forest fire and felled trees--but they’re badly outnumbered, even without the Grimleal directly involving themselves, and with the aerial units staying far out of range.

Morgan’s aware of this, of course.

Gerome replies to her exclamation with a faint air of amusement, despite the fact that he’s in the middle of decapitating a Risen as he does so. “Perhaps he intends to capture you first, and then kill you.”

“Do you dare mock me?!” cries the commander from somewhere close by. “We’ll see who’s laughing when Master Grima dines upon your souls! Get them!”

The entire situation is devolving into an out-and-out slaughter. Gerome’s already lost track of the amount of Risen they’ve both disintegrated by this point. The tactician’s not the only one pondering what to do about the Grimleal in the distance, but unsurprisingly, she’s the first one to come up with a solution.

He doesn’t spare a moment to even answer her. The wyvern lord simply jumps straight into the fray, the extra light and the divine glow of Morgan’s fire giving him just the edge he needs. Gerome throws an ax and renders one Grimleal’s arm entirely useless as it embeds itself into his flesh with a sickening thud, and the other cultists scatter out from the denser trees, entirely exposed.

“Pitiful,” Gerome scoffs, and Minerva makes a sound in agreement.

[cherryhairedcherche]

Cherche continued glaring at him, until she concluded it was a reasonable story. “Minerva has taken a liking to you,” she pointed out, looking at her wyvern who showed no fear around him. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you’re nothing more?”

Many things were racing through her head, though she didn’t want to think too far into it. But she always wanted to name her child Gerome… She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time for silly thoughts! He had his own wyvern– maybe that’s why Minerva showed no fear.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

“I would hope so,” Gerome answers after a pause. “Minerva is a splendid wyvern.” He’s inwardly embarrassed with himself--embarrassed by the fact that he wants nothing more, for a single fleeting instant, than to crush his mother to him in an embrace.

But...this is not is mother. This is not even his home. It’s another timeline, another place, somebody else’s parent. He folds his arms, solemn as ever.

“To you? Yes. I am nothing more than a fellow comrade-in-arms.”

[cherryhairedcherche]

@battlefieldwolf started following you!

Cherche was on edge, having met this… boy on the battle field. The battle was over now, and everyone was regrouping. She went to him, gaze fierce. The scary part? He had called out Minerva’s name when the wyvern almost took a blow. “Who are you and how do you know my Minerva by name?”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

Almost instantly, Gerome tenses up as the woman--his mother--approaches him, and he’s reminded of the rare incidents where he had done something to earn her parental displeasure. Nothing shows up on his face or even in his body language, however. He’s outwardly very calm.

“My name is Gerome,” he replies, voice stiff as he places a hand on his Minerva’s snout. “Considering what you know regarding Lucina’s past, you may be able to put two and two together yourself...I am one of her colleagues. Nothing more.”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

of wyverns.

[bewitchingflower-blog]

Camilla smiled softly, almost amused, as she watched Gerome bow before her. 

“Welcome to the kingdom of Nohr, Gerome…. It’s a delight to meet you…!”

Camilla took note of Gerome’s mask. It wasn’t uncommon for people within her kingdom to hide their faces; Camilla didn’t think that it was odd, however much she longed to meet his eyes directly. 

She held her hand out in front of her for Gerome to shake. 

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

...He has the most bizarre sense of danger. Not...entirely, mind you, but almost like he’s missing something.

Whatever the case, he takes her hand and shakes it with the firmest grip he can muster. Gerome supposes the knightly thing to do is to kiss the back of her hand, but he’s most certainly not the type, and besides...Nohrians may be against it, for all he knows.

“...The pleasure is mine,” he says as Minerva snarls behind him. He’s quick to soothe the wyvern, but keeps his eyes on Camilla. “Would it be too...forward of me to ask why you decided to train me yourself? I don’t feel as if I have earned the honor.”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

breach.

[prcvisor-deactivated20160423]

“No, I’ll be going to the healers Gerome. As much as I would like to fight alongside the rest of the soldiers, I’m useless in this condition.” Lucina sighed, removing her mask and frowning. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room.” She replied, turning away from the other and beginning to walk to find a healer. 

She didn’t say it, but she did appreciate his concern for her. They had earned a bit of time for rest…Though she knew they could only keep their battle up for so long. The only factor that kept them fighting, was her hope that they would tip the scales somehow.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

“Lucina, wait,” Gerome says after a long moment of hesitation, moving quickly to catch up to her. Minerva hangs back but follows them along the capital’s walls, the sounds of distant battle nearly drowned out by her rattling armor and scales.

“...Allow me to escort you. Just in case.“ There’s a faint pinch to his brows as he speaks, and now he’s trying to size up just how bad the injury she has is. He does offer her a chance to take his arm or lean against him if the pain is worse than she’s pretending. “You’re pushing yourself again,” he murmurs, but it’s only said because he’s much too contained to directly say I’m worried.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

human nature.

[galdrxr]

She silently agrees, nodding her head in response, while moving quickly outside of the cage. He was right, they needed to formulate a plan of action. Of course, he would have to do most of the work, which she felt guilty for. With only a Reaper Card, her moves were limited. Since she wasn’t used to fighting, most times her blows either missed or did little damage. Once within Gerome’s safety, her large wings extend and spread out, stretching out. The cage she was stuffed in was cramped, so she couldn’t move around much. Once she could feel them once again, they curl behind her once more as they walk a bit away from the slavers’ camp.

Right. What did she know? It was mid day when they caught her. Her cage was one of the last ones so she was unable to see the other slaves. From what she remembered, most of the slave traders were on foot or horseback, most carrying lances or axes while the healers and mages were few. Unless she hadn’t seen the entirety of the camp, either way this could help them. And if the others caged were also laguz–– they might be able to fight back. While she hadn’t been on the battlefield during the final showdown during the Mad King’s War, she was caught up by her brother who informed her of the weapons triangle the beroc used.

She looks up the Wyvern Lord determined; she had much to say, but how she’d be able to express this with limited speech bothered her. Leanne glances toward the side, wary of the silence enveloping the camp. Questions pertaining to him could come later, if he wasn’t in a rush to return. This however answered some questions for her; she wondered if Minerva had different weaknesses compared to the wyverns in Tellius.

“S-some h-had axes and lances, on ground a-and horseback. Not sure about archers.”

She frowns, trying to gather her words. “…I-I remember seeing mages an-and healers too. Fire and… Thunder? I think.”  She pauses for a moment, “L-laguz, if…other slaves la-laguz… they’ll likely help.” Gerome had told her he was from far away, so it’s likely he might not know the terminology. “Beasts, Birds, Dragons––” If any Goldoans got caught up in this, she hadn’t a clue how, “  they transform and fight. I-If Beroc, get to safety. Slavers might taken th-their weapons.”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

He thinks irrationally of a pegasus for a moment as she stretches her wings out, and Gerome tries not to stare. Against the glow of the moonlight, she definitely seems less than real. Shaking his head to anchor himself back into the very dangerous situation at hand, he continues to keep a careful eye out as they walk, and she explains herself the best she can.

What would Morgan do? he supposes, is the question of the night.

Leanne seems rather determined to help her fellow prisoners. That much he can’t deny--not with that fierce glimmer in her eyes. Unfortunately he’s left wanting for information that Anna should have had the sense to provide him with beforehand...ugh. He’s not the type to complain though, and he listens carefully.

These “Laguz”, if he understood her right, were basically like manaketes...but with creatures besides just dragons. Manaketes and taguels. He knew firsthand how powerful such shapeshifters could be, and already, the scales may be in their favor if they can release the other prisoners and get them organized. Not an all-out battle, but a victory brought about from catching the slavers off-guard in the dead of the night...It might work.

Gerome stops once they’re a decent ways into the trees, trusting Minerva’s impeccable senses to warn them of any approach. He leans against the wyvern’s shoulder as he regards Leanne with a serious stare.

“I see. I’m more concerned about the mages and healers than anything else...” Assuming there weren’t many archers. “Hmph. We will have to think of a way to arm the human--er, non-Laguz for combat, in addition to ensuring those who can fight are not immediately overwhelmed. It will require subterfuge.”

He strokes his chin, thinking deeply.

“How do you fight?” he asks at length.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

((whew. forgive me for being a bit late on replies.

I’ve got a project to work on. You know how it goes. so responses may be sporadic/erratic for a bit.))

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

of wyverns.

bewitchingflower

He’s here because of wyverns. It’s simple as that. It’s not because he’s got his eye on his wayward friends or anything...absolutely not. He’s here in Nohr just to learn about wyverns. Yes.

...From the princess of the entire kingdom. 

A tremendous honor, he knows, and Gerome is still privately reeling from the revelation of just who had volunteered to teach a newcomer about the ways of Nohrian wyverns. Gerome bows low to his mentor, one fist over his heart, solemn as ever.

“You have my gratitude for the assistance, Your Highness. I am Gerome, and this is Minerva. We are yours to command so long as this arrangement holds.”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

heaven and earth.

[felldivine-blog]

Her pace starts to slow, noticing the trees around them grow thinner and thinner. Judging by the change in scenery, they must be close to the exit if they were having more room to move around. But Gerome’s warning slows Morgan’s pace a bit, and eventually she stops and turns. If her plan of attacking one side was going to work, then she was going to have to attack the leader. The discouragement from the Dark Fliers when she made that shot earlier was not lost on her. If they were to lose morale and their focus from that… then imagine if the commander itself would do to this group… then it’ll be beneficial to the both of them. They would slip past them and reunite with the others amidst the confusion. 

Yes… yes, this might work.

“We’re gonna have to take out their commander here then,” she suggested. Cut off one head, and the body will fall and all of that jazz, right? But… with that Goetia around… it sure wasn’t going to be easy for them. For one thing, it was a powerful spell in itself. One hit would set both her and Gerome way back on their recovery, and Morgan wanted them to stay in good health for as long as they were able. Two… well, their cover of fire and fallen trees could either help them or have them at a disadvantage. But all wasn’t a total mess… the space now given to them gave them more room to move around. And Morgan was going to use that messy cover to their advantage.

“I dunno about you, but I’m gonna enjoy taking that creep out,” she speaks, her eagerness underlined with a dragon’s hiss. One less Grimleal in the world makes things a little bit brighter around here. “We’ve got more room to move around, and we still got some trees to work with. We could catch whatever nearby Grimleal or Risen off guard, and it’ll open a path to the commander. Once he’s gone, then we can use their discouragement to make a run for it. By the time the other group comes, we’ll be too far ahead of their reach.”

She steels herself, hearing that the ominous moaning coming closer from beyond the flames and debris. She looks ahead with anticipation, biding her time for the right moment to strike. Cautious, but at the same time, confident. “Alright… here they come. You ready?”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

Morgan, as always has a plan, and Gerome would be lying if he said that’s not reassuring to know. She’s truly her father’s daughter.

It’s a little distracting--that burning Grimleal. The one she shot down. The wretched soul’s been engulfed in divine fire, and he’s not even stopped smoldering yet, looking for all the world like a white bonfire. Gerome’s noticed it too. The flying Grimleal are definitely reluctant about receiving that same treatment.

"...Of course.” He’s always ready for the slaughter. Fighting is, after all, what he does best. A lone wolf he may be, but on the battlefield, he will protect the pack.

A hoarse cry sounds out: “Get them! Bring me the dragon!”

“Watch for the Wyrmslayers,” Gerome hisses as he observes the ominous stalking of the Risen approaching them. The quickest of the Risen is one wielding a long spear, and Minerva darts forward, latching her talons around the handle and pulling the lance forward, unbalancing the undead. Gerome seizes the opportunity to lob the creature’s head off, and five seconds later, the rest of the forces arrive.

It quickly descends into chaos.

The Risen’s eyes are glowing like red embers in the darkness as they lurch and strike out with a mindless fervor at the pair, snarling like beasts more than reanimated men. There’s the distant chanting of a few hiding Grimleal who seem to be waiting for the right moment to strike--

The commanding cultist cackles. “Yes! Yes! Bleed them! Bring them before Master Grima, that the Exalt may know that surrender is her only option! Destroy the hopes of the Voice of Naga with her daughter’s death!”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

the course of fate.

[great-knight-frederick-blog]

He understood what Gerome meant; he supposed there were more pressing subjects on his mind than romance. “I see.”, he answered, wondering if Gerome though he had asked a foolish question. “I suppose I had thought the same before I met Cherche. Perhaps, if the right person comes along, you might find yourself in my shoes… Or not; I only wish for what would make you the happiest.” – though their relationship wasn’t always the most perfect, they were true words.

“…Here we are.”, he stopped in front of a door, grabbing his keyring. “The door to our family’s quarters. In Cherche’s absence, it is a sensible place for you to stay until the date passes.”, he says, turning to Gerome with his lips pressed together. “Obviously, little Gerome is going to be here as well… If you find that uncomfortable, my personal quarters is off-limits to him.”, he explained. “I would like to ask that you keep him in the dark about this situation… Unless, that is, I come to pass. Then I would like you to tell him everything.”, he requested, looking serious and grave.

“He has a right to know.”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

He doesn’t think it a foolish question. In fact, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it at all. During these days of peace, he’s thought long and hard about more things than just whether or not he’d get together with somebody. There’s much and more to consider.

“I do not deny that circumstances may change in a moment. Perhaps I will experience a situation the same as yours.” Everything changes in an instant. This much he knows to be true.

They’ve arrived. Gerome’s heart plunges downwards, strangely, as he thinks about the fact that he’s about to enter a home different than the one he once knew. He looks over at his father, doing his best to maintain a passive expression.

“...As you wish.”

His discomfort still likely shows, much to his chagrin.

[tactxcian]

“Hmph; archers. You won’t stand a chance.”

    It seemed that Robin’s mood had suddenly changed entirely. His feelings of despair and overwhelming helplessness simply vanished. The tactician’s firm belief and practice of strengthening the invisible ties within allies surely contributed to his burst of courage.

    If they were to both survive this, he had to quickly do away with these archers; only then could he receive the full support of his fellow Wyvern Lord. Without another moment’s hesitation, Robin began to cut through the Risen’s ranks of archers with his Levin sword, managing to avoid their futile attempts to strike him at such a close range.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

A stray arrow flies off badly askew as an archer frantically attempts to shoot Robin, only to miss utterly. Gerome’s impressed as always by the tactician’s skill as a soldier, but he’ll be hard-pressed to hear any words of praise from the Wyvern Lord.

Once he judges it safe enough, Gerome sends Minerva barreling through the battlefield, knocking over any Risen they encounter with a swing of his ax. The wyvern circles around Robin as Gerome scopes out the current situation. Archers dead. Mages in the distance. They’re still pretty outnumbered. What else is new?

“We will have to contend with their Chieftain before long. Minerva sees him there, behind that line of spellcasters.”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

human nature.

[galdrxr]

An ally.

She feels her tense shoulders and wings relax a bit. This ‘Anna’ must have sent him to assist, whomever she was she had to thank her formally. How she found out was beyond her knowledge, other then maybe Nealuchi coming across this person and pleading to her to help her out in some way.

Leanne stares in wonder as he unlocks her cage, uncertain if it would fit. Her gaze shifts over to Gerome’s wyvern, noting of some differences from the wyvern’s she remembered (Lady Jill and Sir Haar’s companions were a touch bigger, if she remembered correctly). She searches his sides, looking for a possible weapon but sees none. When she hears the clicking sound, she blinks –– surprised. It didn’t look like the key would fit and that he’d have to resort to using some kind of weapon to break down the cage’s door. Fortunately, this Gerome fellow came handy, which she appreciated greatly.

“Leanne, I…am Leanne.” She replies steadily, “…thank you…Sir Gerome and Minerva!” She appears exhausted, from fatigue from lack of food and sleep, but she still appears cheerful. She nods in acknowledgement to his partner, smiling.

Before she is able to leave, she halts – his words surprising her. Others? A frown mars her features; why did these humans continue to do these things…? Unless the people they captured were both laguz and beroc….regardless it wasn’t right. She appears displeased by the news, her hands clenches onto the fabrics of her white dress.

Pain and sorrow, she can feel those emotions faintly within the area. Gerome didn’t appear like he’d make her leave to safety, instead he gave her different choices. Such a refreshing feeling, being given the choice of what she could do. 

“Yes.” This Gerome, he had a good heart alike Sir Ike. She could trust him, definitely. “trust…you.”

She shakes her head, a look of determination can be seen in her eyes. “Stay and help. I…I can assist you.”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

She’s as kindhearted as she looks, which Gerome supposes is something of blessing. How some individuals managed to hold onto that gentle demeanor despite dealing with the worst of humanity...well, it’s something he’ll never understand. Gerome hears the exhaustion pulling at her words, noting her halting way of speaking...he’s uncertain if it’s because of the language, or plain weariness. Both, perhaps.

Leanne, she says, and Minerva instantly takes to the name. Gerome decides in that moment that she is certainly worth helping.

He accepts her thanks and her trust without a word, only inclining his head as he pulls the door open and steps aside, contemplating their next course of action.

“We will need to make a plan of action, and it goes without saying that it would be safer to do so away from the camp..talking in the open is nothing short of suicidal. There is plenty of time left in the night...if we act swiftly.” But not without caution. He’s no tactician but he’s familiar with guerrilla tactics, as his past--of the future-that-was--is rife with such incidents; freeing captured villagers from the Grimleal, evading the Risen...this is only more of the same, but with slavers instead of cultists.

Gerome offers her his hand and pulls her toward Minerva, closing the cage door behind him. The night is silent--the darkness oppressive--and even with the dead guard nearby, Gerome feels as if they may be being watched. He grips his ax and scans the area.

“...I come from a land far from this place. Tell me what you know about the nature of these slavers. Any information could be crucial.”

Minerva circles protectively around Leanne, scales bristling beneath her armor as they put just a bit of distance between themselves and the slavers’ camp for now.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

heaven and earth.

[felldivine-blog]

The earth was shaking beneath her feet as she runs in that form. Eventually she flaps her wings and hovers above the ground… high enough so that she would stop making her position too obvious, but her speed was enough so that her friends could keep up with her. Morgan’s focus often switch from what was around her to what was above her. As expected… she did see several aerial units following them as they ran. They’re waiting… they were waiting for an opening so that they could swoop down and fight. Gods, what opportunists!

Though Morgan will not be deterred. A low growl emits from her throat, readying herself to fire at will and shoot those Risen down. But something startles her… the air suddenly charges with an ominous crackle. Wary, Morgan turns her head behind her to figure out the source… and just as she did, she was met with a flash of a dark, glowing spell. Luckily it misses them, but the bolt it came with was so destructive, Morgan was glad that it missed.

“Goetia… man, they’re pulling no punches here.” she gasps. Wrymslayers, aerial forces… and apparently there were sorcerers with advanced dark magic under their belts. Wonderful. But… on the bright side, thanks to the fire she made and the tree Gerome had knocked down, they had to be slowing the advance of the group that was behind them somewhat! For now, Morgan returned her focus back to the front. Let the Grimleal try to come at them. They’ll lose against her strategy.

Up above she sees an opening in the first aerial flank, and she immediately takes a breath to fire a shot at it. The shot was accompanied with a loud screech, the blue ball of fire whistling through the fire and hit the mark that was intended. “Hah! Target hit!” she cheered to herself, but this chase was probably going to take a while. She’ll just has to stay vigilant.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

Aerial soldiers--dark riders, perhaps--were flying very high above them, tracking their movements. They were too high to attack but also too high to target them, and Gerome knew they’d have their hands full the moment they came down to engage them in combat. He bites back a swear and looks over his shoulder, sprinting alongside Morgan’s shimmering, reptilian form.

“That Goetia was from their commander...it’s that same blasted Grimleal we encountered a month ago, the one that razed that village to the ground with Thoron.”

One of the aerial riders overhead screamed and descended toward them, and Morgan took the opportunity to shoot him right out of the sky, causing the Grimleal to topple from his steed in a flaming heap. Gerome had to admit--that was an impressive shot. The other flying soldiers were discouraged by the sight and pulled up, frantic to avoid more dragonfire.

As they continue, the trees grow thinner up ahead and Gerome leaps onto Minerva’s back, coaxing her into her usual low hover for battle. There’s now enough room for a decent amount of mobility, though it’s still a little clustered. The wyvern takes a bit of a running start but pulls herself up, armor jangling.

“We can’t go out into the open,” Gerome grunts, gripping the long handle of his ax. “Those aerials will be able to aim at us undeterred. If we are to engage the Grimleal, we’ll have to do it around here.”

An unearthly moaning drifts toward them from the mess of fire and toppled trees they’ve left behind...Wonderful.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

the course of fate.

[great-knight-frederick-blog]

It was strange, to see Gerome so radically different from what he was used to. If Gerome would not speak, Frederick feared that he might lose him in the crowd.

“To answer that, I suppose I would have to start with the story of how I met your mother. She joined us when we were in need, and fought at my side in that battle. Afterwards, I found myself watching her practice her techniques… we started talking, and started to see each other more often. I found myself making excuses to see her; at first, under the guise of training..”, he chuckled, the memories seeping into his mind. 

“But one fight, I had noticed that she was being surrounded, and I jumped into the fray to help her, caring not for my personal safety… It was then that I realized that she was more to me than a fellow knight and comrade… and that I was in love with everything about her. I gathered my courage and proposed to her, and she has blessed my life ever since.”, he recounted fondly.

He felt that he was rambling, however, and stopped himself there. Guiding Gerome to Frederick’s quarters, where his other Son would be, he mulled over how he would ask a similar question back. “Supposing an ideal future for yourself and Minerva… have you ever considered a partner?” – though, he knew that person would have to be able to deal with Minerva, a tall task: Frederick knew from personal experience.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

Both his parents are proud knights with a code of honor as stalwart as their hearts. He’s always admired that--admired their tendency to put others before themselves, and though he resented their heroics at times...it’s not hard to see why they ended up together, hearing Frederick explain it all.

Gerome smiles slightly but stays silent as his father recounts the tale...Cherche had told him something similar, but from another angle, of course. The question about a partner in his future catches him so off-guard that he nearly trips, much to his chagrin. He takes a moment to think.

“I...feel as if I would make a poor husband,” he replies, somewhat evasively. “Romance is not something I have ever dedicated much thought to. There have been incidents of others becoming enamored with me, but I I would be too...distant. Detached.”

They’re on their way to Frederick quarters, and having a pretty normal chat, illusions or not; Minerva’s not here, but Gerome supposes this is what children want with their parents....

“...She would have to be persistent,” he remarks, tone dry. 

[tactxcian]

    Robin shifted his gaze towards said archers that were closing in. If Gerome was going to be of any help to him, he had to do something about them. Making strategies was indeed what he did best, and it did not take the tactician long to brew one up.

    “I’ll make a way to those archers! I need you to cover me while I handle them,” he told him. “Taking them out will turn this in our favour.”

    Robin began to cut his way through multiple Risen with his Levin sword, trying his best to create a take off zone. As he began to acquire more space, the tactician whipped out a green-coloured tome and aimed himself at the archers on the ridge.

                                   “Elwind!”

    He was propelled into the air, clearing a way to his point of trajectory on the ridge by cutting down more soldiers.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

That’s a new one. Gerome can’t help but take a moment to stare in amazement at the sheer audacity of using wind magic like a pair of substitute wings--Robin is either fearless or deprived of his wits, but knowing the tactician, it’s always just the former. 

Minerva’s off the ground in a snap of the reins, kicking over a Risen in the process. A lobbed tomahawk decapitates one Risen and sends it stumbling, one-legged, to the ground in a heap. Gerome has always been a particularly merciless fighter, and he displays no exception now as he introduces a lance-wielding Risen to the sight of its own feet, causing its head to hit the ground, freed from its shoulders.

“Where did this many Risen even come from?” he hisses to himself, and Minerva snarls.

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

human nature.

[galdrxr]

Being caught by the grimy and sweaty hands of humans was the last thing Leanne expected to happen to her today. She was intercepted upon treading in Begnion territory–– unknowingly, and forcibly put into a cramped cage. Although she was asleep for almost twenty years, she thought she knew her way back home, to Serenes Forest alas that wasn’t the case. Nealuchi offered to accompany her, which she allowed, but once they were half way into their journey she ditched the old crow to keep going. Surely he was frantically looking for her now.

This would be her end, if no one noticed what happened to her. In attempt to draw attention to herself, she sings various galdrar as the humans travel on the road. They laugh, thinking her songs are for them. She couldn’t do much other then sing; she couldn’t wield beroc weapons, aside from the tomes perhaps. But she wished she did, anything would have been useful to escape. Although she held onto a Reaper Card, it would do little against them since she was only one person. not an army.

When night comes, her throat is dry and parched from singing. She had taken breaks in between, but if she did not continue then it’s possibly no one would hear her. They’ve given her little to no food, save for some raw meat (–– if she eats that, she’d definitely feel sick). Her songs come to an abrupt stop upon feeling an unfamiliar presence steps in front of her cage. She sharply inhales; the note she held out is now off key while her wings obscure her petite form.

“…”

Another beroc, she thinks, frowning. Her wings open up, revealing more of her face to him. He looked suspicious, with the mask he wears, but reading into his heart it appears he held no ill will against her. She goes to speak, but realizes he would not understand the ancient language. Finally does she release her breath, then shaking her head at his question.

“N..not familiar.” She replies, voice hoarse from singing. “Anna? Don’t know…” She pauses, then looks intently at him, “you…? who a…are you?”

[battlefieldwolf-blog]

Oh. She’s like an angel.

Gerome’s eyes go wide behind his mask thinking of the ruined churches in his past--Ylissean-made and ornate--broken statues of winged figures scattered around depictions of Naga in her Divine Dragon form. It’s supposed to be the stuff of fairy tales,but this woman...!

Right. He’s not here to gawk. He collects himself quickly, drawing in a slow breath as he replies, “Then it appears you have an unknown ally. My name is Gerome. This is Minerva.”

A tilt of his head in the direction of the armored wyvern behind him, who is still skulking along the edges of the camp.

“A moment...” He removes a leather-wrapped bundle from his belt and unfolds it, revealing a key with a very strangely shaped head. It doesn’t appear as if it’d fit into the lock on her cage, but it does, and there’s a click! as it opens without protest. Once more, he knows Anna is as resourceful as they come, and doesn’t question it.

Before he opens the door all the way though, Gerome regards her sternly. “Are you willing to trust me? We may be able to assist the others they have captured, but if you wish to simply flee, I will escort you to safety. You can choose what we do.”

“I have little investment in this world beyond aiding you.” There’s a clinical detachment to his voice that seems out of place for such a relatively young man.

Behind him, Minerva hisses softly.