SACRIFICIAL LAMB

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 / 𝐖𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐎

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 [ MY LOVE ] 

[ @bladesingcr continued 🍂]

YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT THAT AGAIN.

Yes, he was, and always would be–to an extent. He wished he could give her a true answer to why he lives, why he EXISTS. But, even he didn’t know that. He couldn’t even remember how long he’s walked this world. Yet, gazing up at her it didn’t even matter. In her he saw what HUMANITY FOUGHT FOR. In her, he finally could touch, could UNDERSTAND the passions and dreams that those in battle would draw their swords and spill blood on still ground for.

Lips curl into an easy smile as she mimics the distant ghosts of warlords–albeit…simplistic. Albeit, much more amusing, yet still accurate. IN SOME SAD WAY, THAT’S EXACTLY HOW IT IS, MY LOVE. 

“…That’s about right, love.” A soft laugh, GENTLE AND TIRED, “…To those outside the bubbles they live in…it does seem childish doesn’t it? And stupid.”

Hand raises to gently brush back blue strands, the starlight reflects brown iris, makes them look almost silver, “…But, to others it may be everything they ever worked for. It may be a matter of life or death no matter how silly it is to others.”

🌿 — He always seemed so TIRED, especially when he smiled. Perhaps it was the weariness of frequent battle, or simply not getting enough sleep, but she wondered every time what ailed his heavy shoulders. Her arms fold, leaning her chin upon them on his chest. She swore she could see liquid silver in his eyes when the light hit them JUST RIGHT, but always did she convince herself it was only an illusion. She returns his smile regardless, soft and sincere, but then melancholy. 

“Everyone has something they would die for,” she sighs. “But it seems so...I don’t know...unnecessary to kill each other over anything, especially if what is at stake could be shared.” 

She had been told she was too optimistic. Admittedly, even RHEA had chastised her for her starry-eyed dreams of a world of eternal peace, even if she admired her positivity. She lays her head upon her arms, looking out at the tips of the grasses beneath them, watching a lady bug climb one of the blades like it were a mountain. 

“I wish the world could be SPARED destruction, too.” She speaks more quietly now, “if people have to fight, I wish that fight didn’t rope in what and those who didn’t ask for it.” 

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — Unlike her children after her, Sitri is not a very perceptive person, bordering on NAÏVE even. It’s not so much that she’s incapable of seeing past certain aspects of people, and more she feels it rude to push for it. She may occasionally see something others don’t, but even if she did she’s not the type to press about it unless the time seems right. She tries to get to know people and, if they feel comfortable, they may confide in her. In general, she only sees what people wish for her to see, whether because she genuinely falls for their ruse, or she is simply trying to be polite. 

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — SHE’S OFTEN HEARD A SOFT VOICE IN THE BACK OF HER HEAD. Sometimes when she dreamed, sometimes when she lie awake in the early morning, but always was she just short of seeing it’s origin. She could wander within her dreams for what felt like days without reaching any hint. But...she saw her sometimes. A young girl, sleeping on a throne, hair not unlike that of Seteth or Flayn or even Rhea. Hair like her own. She wondered about her all the way until her heart ceased to beat. 

And now, so many years later, she sees her again, yet this time she walks among others, nearly always at the heels of her child. Would it be ODD to ask her? Would it be FRIGHTENING to speak of dreams to someone so young? Her curiosity outweighed her caution as she trotted over to Sothis, the young woman who Jeralt had taken in, who had woken in a bed of flowers much as she had. 

Or perhaps, it was only a coincidence. 

“GOOD MORNING, Sothis,” she smiles, so warm and sincere. “I don’t usually see others up early enough to watch the sun rise.” 

@progenitorgod // starter call

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — I have one more shift at work then it’s over for you hoes

[jeureza]

Eisner.

//me, ugly sobbing at the corner ; ^ ;

[deebyfeeby]

Sitri Eisner

[provenprofessor]

Imagine if life was normal....

//Credit to @korokorokoroko on Twitter

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — PERHAPS IT IS NAIVETY that makes Sitri not too terribly concerned with the certain PRESENCE people can give off. After all, his husband is a famed mercenary, and she far different in contrast. At least, she could only assume - her memory had not been kind to her, and while it devastated her to know how much time she had lost, she was determined to regain it, and make new memories while she had the extra room in her mind to hold them close. She would get to know everyone in the monastery, and do her best to accommodate their interests. 

Jeritza is a strange one, for sure. He’s stern, speaks little, blunt as a cliffside and twice as stoic. He seemed just as dangerous as a cliff too - in that he seemed the type of person to push someone off one if they so much as breath wrong in his general direction. Sitri is not so air-headed as to think he would even entertain the notion of speaking with her casually, but there is one interest he has that she is sure will allow her time to learn of him. 

“Professor,” she approaches, voice no less sweet but entirely serious in her proposal, an iron sword at her side. “Jeralt is away on a mission, but I’m in terrible need of a SPARING PARTNER, if you’d be so kind to help me brush off the dust on my SWORDSMANSHIP.” 

@detheknyght // starter call 

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — the idea of Sitri having the same prowess with a sword as Byleth but apologizing after each hit is so fucking funny to me. 

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — “This is as strange for me as it is for YOU, I’m afraid.” 

Oh, how STRANGE indeed, but an UNDERSTATEMENT worthy of divinity. She could curse her lost memory, her forgotten time, for forsaking her in her time of need. Her daughter, standing before her fully grown and rugged from a life of battle, was so deeply similar to her father, yet something felt so missing. It is not unlike how she has felt herself - a missing piece, like she was born incomplete. Even now she had to be TOLD she had a daughter, by the man who had to REMIND HER he was her husband. Only the strength of the love she once knew hummed true in her chest, so she has set to recover what she has lost. 

It isn’t hard, because of this resolve, to look upon her daughter with admiration and overwhelming love, as it is a love that transcends even death, even REBIRTH. 

“But if I am to recover anything, I have to learn of all that I missed,” her hands clap together, touching the tips of her fingers to her lips. “I wish to hear EVERYTHING, please, anything will help.” 

@obsidiansong // starter call

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 [ MY LOVE ]

“DO YOU GET TIRED OF THE SAME SPACES, Sitri?” An honest question, plagued by the assumption of escape. He’s seen her boredom, the way she sighs as monotony while wandering monastery halls. He couldn’t imagine the torture that would be never being set free from such a holy cage. 

He leans on the stone balcony railing, looking at her with CURIOSITY but also REVERIE. She felt like a dream to him as he looked at her. She had an odd way of capturing, cherry picking the finest memories of a long, long life he’s lived.

“…It seems you’ve NEVER LEFT THIS PLACE. Have you considered taking a walk to the villages even?” Adjusting he straightens, causality in the shrug he bares, “I was going there myself, could use some company.”

@bladesingcr II Starter Call

🌿 — A QUESTION SHE’S BEEN ASKED BEFORE, but she always feels obligated to give the same, neutral answer. She had once lived outside the monastery, amongst flowers and kind folk, but that had been some time ago. Even then, she had not seen much of the world from that tiny village. Now, even less of the world is open to her, given to her only in the stories of others, the tales of adventurers and soldiers. Her elbows would lean on tables, chin upon her hands, listening, WISHING to hear more and more of a world she could not touch. 

But she was content here, which is not a lie. She loves the monastery and all it’s students and singers and priests. Lady Rhea has been her friend since the beginning. Still, she LONGS for adventure, and of all the stories and all the tales she’d heard from afar, Captain Jeralt Eisner always told them the best. 

When she’s contemplating the complexity of the first question, she’s suddenly thrust into a definite answer at his offer. Entirely she ignores what he asks, instead her face lighting up at the prospect of leaving just for a little while. Rhea wouldn’t mind - after all, she was with Jeralt, the blade breaker, the man who saved the Archbishop’s life! She would be safe. 

“REALLY?” She tries to tame the child-like wonder in simply walking a mile outside the monastery, “well - I have been in need of a new vase for my flowers, if I would not burden you with how particular I can be with pottery.” 

She wonders how awkward that sounds. 

[woodendreams]

Cannock Chase, England, United Kingdom (by Will Fuller)

[bladesingcr-blog]

@fellstrs​ said: “ my resolve will never waver ”

🌿 — “I would expect NOTHING LESS, just...” 

The world had already been so STRANGE before she died. She’d only known the most peaceful of lives, utterly naïve to how cruel the world outside her small bubble could be. Jeralt had given her as much insight as he could, but she knew even he, in all his bluntness, saved the more grizzly details. A fragile woman with a FRAGILE HEART, untouched by war, by suffering, sacrificing herself to her child believing they, too, would live a life as free of turmoil as she had. 

But she remembered so little. Now, 21 years later, she is awake, breathing, confused, ASSAULTED by a world so similar yet so different. And oh, her daughter, her DAUGHTER all grown up, herself blind to their childhood, hardened by bouts of survival. WHY DIDN’T YOU STAY WITH RHEA, JERALT? WHAT HAPPENED THAT MADE YOU LEAVE? 

SSomething had to have stirred him. Something strange happened. 

Without evidence, however, she is at a loss, and now must pick at the fragments left behind, and attempt to remember HER, her dearest child. 

“Just be safe out there, please?” Her hands fold, as if in submission. “I couldn’t BEAR to lose you or your father again.” 

Tri-Crescendo / Eternal Sonata  // accepting

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — Sorry for being slow here everyone! Work and some errands have prevented me from writing much at all. The next two days will be rough but I’m going to try to be here as soon as possible to crank those starters out. 

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — stealth night time STARTER CALL. 

[kokomiin]

i probably shouldn’t have played the whole story in 1 day cause my head is still absorbing it, but sitri reminds me a lot of flayn so I wanted to draw this.

[bladesingcr-blog]

🌿 — stealth night time STARTER CALL.