he the bright maid of heaven shall precede

affiliated dimitri alexandre blaiddyd, leader of the blue lion house at the officers academy pfp by emm

[heliacalrisings]

royal refuge

[anniversary 2024] heavy armor +1

[heliacalrisings]

"Not in such dire circumstances, but yes." Acknowledgment all the same. "My homeland does not see snow and wind so harsh, but I have traveled in harsh weather."

Of course he felt a little bad for using Reginleif in such a manner, but weapons could be repaired, steel could be reforged. Lives could not be resurrected. He had learned that particular lesson in a harsh manner.

Well, there were some circumstances in which one could come back to life, but he was not willing to bet anything on those methods.

He's grateful when Dimitri uses his cloak to give them one more barrier from the harsh conditions that rage outside.

"That's right," he answers. "From the continent of Magvel. And you're from Faerghus, correct?" He had taken some time to learn about the different regions of Fódlan after arriving, intending to develop good relations with them should he be given the chance. Having the opportunity within a cave while huddled for warmth wasn't exactly what he had pictured. "I actually thought Faerghus and Renais quite similar."

As he spoke, he pulls his pack closer and shifts through the contents. "Ah! There's a blanket in here." He pulls it out, the fabric unfurling in his hands. It's not terribly big but it's better than nothing. "There's only one. How should we use it?" If they can both huddle in it then that would be ideal, but Ephraim knows he's tall.

[blaiddllodi]

"We can be thankful that we've brought at least the one with us." The rest of their preparedness couldn't be commended, but it wasn't exactly the time to be particular – between the two of them, they had the resources of wit and experience to make it through this unscathed, if he had to wager. Although Dimitri was not the wagering sort, it seemed unavoidable in this instance, but to bet on one another.

It wasn't exactly the kind of thing that one might put on his bed, but it would do for an emergency field camp – well-woven wool, not threadbare. Reaching for it, Dimitri shook it out to its length, mentally measuring against the both of them, before he nodded.

"Well, it certainly wouldn't provide shelter for long periods of time, but I suppose it is sufficient for one of us. Please, I insist. As you've said, I am from Faerghus – we face harsher conditions than this regularly, and much of my outdoorsman training comes from such direly inclement weather. I would be a shame of a crown prince if I could not shrug off a little bit of snow."

He smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, but the wind against his cheeks was frigid, and he could not help when the smile turned into a grimace. Still, he extended the blanket back to Ephraim.

"With the fire going, it surely will not be so bad. In the meantime, would you tell me of Renais? I know so little about it, although I try to at least learn the names of the places my House are from, if not my own country."

[blaiddllodi]

Tina stops in her tracks and gasps when she sees him. There he is, the hottest, most handsome guy she's ever set her eyes on. Her heart is fluttering. She's trying so hard not to just squeal in girlish excitement.

She mostly succeeds, letting out only a soft ee! rather than a full on squeal but it does attract the attention of the object of her affections.

Tina quickly ducks out of the way, pressing her back against the wall next to the classroom door and holding her books close to her chest as she tries to catch her breath. That perfect blonde hair, those bright blue eyes! Even Safy would understand and not roll her eyes about this one.

She leans over, daring to take one last peek at the handsome Blue Lions student before running away, giggling loudly.

Falling back into the rhythm of regular coursework, regular training, regular visits to the cathedral, was more difficult for the fact that he had already had to make these adjustments once before.

Still, Dimitri did his level best to maintain the front of an attentive House Leader, a budding

"Let's see...it is...a tactics seminar in the afternoon," he murmured to himself, shielding the sun from his eyes and brushing the hair from his forehead, tucking his textbooks under his other arm idly, "and then a written examination for history of lancecraft – I could be more prepared for this – hm - ?"

The squeak hit his ears, carried by the gentle breeze that fluttered through the chill of late winter, and Dimitri glanced up, scanning the courtyard for wherever it had come from, seeing only the retreating back of a young girl scurrying off to attend her classes.

"Hm..." His brow furrowed, only briefly, concerned for a moment that perhaps she had injured herself, but she had long turned the corner before his feet began to move in that direction.

If he saw her again, Dimitri made the mental note to ask.

[failnaughted]

The Sides of Us We Don't Easily Share || Claude & Dimitri

Mission: Sword +1 || @blaiddllodi || Mission Season: Pearlescent

[failnaughted]

A wedding between a Fódlanese noblelady and a long-lost Almyran prince? Yeah, Claude would be expecting party crashes, too. A lot of them.

So when a secret missive arrives from what ultimately is his true homeland with an invitation to the ceremony, and within it, he finds an even more secret missive asking him to ensure the safety of Yuliy and his beloved, the latter surprises him significantly less than the former. If there’s anything about the whole thing that catches him off-guard, it’s the fact that they actually decided to go through with the wedding A) in Fódlan rather than Almyra (not that Almyrans would have taken kindly to it, but at least it’s easier to find strong bodyguards there) and B) with significantly less secrecy than he would have done it if it were him.

He can only guess that, in spite of the obvious concerns, Yuliy and his soon-to-be spouse are still significantly more optimistic about being allowed to love who they want to love than he would be. It really gets him wondering whether they’re that hopefully, or he’s that bitter.

Well, it doesn’t matter that much, does it. What matters is ensuring the success of the ceremony. So Claude nonsenses out some diplomatic excuse to take a few days off and travel to participate in the wedding — the real reason, obviously, undisclosed — and sets off.

And then, as he gets to the venue, he bumps into Dimitri.

Oh.

Well, this is going to be awkward all of a sudden.

“If it isn’t my favorite Your Highness,” Claude greets with a friendly wave as he directs his horse towards the blond, betraying exactly none of these thoughts thanks to the years of practice he’s had with this mask he wears on the daily. “Did you also get an invitation to the wedding? Guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you might have cousins to mothers to uncles to grandfathers related here. Or is there some other reason?”

[blaiddllodi]

Dimitri shook his head, grimaced. "No, House Elidure is not connected to Blaiddyd that I understand, although I suppose it's possible that a few generations back there was a stronger connec – oh."

He was being made fun of.

The grimace deepened, but only for a moment, before he sighed, allowed the tension that had been building during the long horse-ride to seep out of him. It was not terribly unusual to find such connections amongst the noble houses, and while Dimitri did not think that there was a higher proclivity of this in Faerghus, he knew that he had to understand that others might – or that it might be prodded at.

"In truth," he continued, pointedly, slowing his horse's pace by tugging her in a gentle circle around Claude until his fellow House Leader had caught up and they continued along the road side by side; "It is due to the Western Church. Garreg Mach would...rather a direct envoy of both Crown and Central Church be present. The hope is that this might deter any...shall we say lingering frustrations, atop of the difficult position that the marriage itself has to offer."

And what better envoy than the Crown Prince himself.

His eyes narrowed, somewhat, as he cocked his head in his friend's direction. "But if we're on the subject...I don't recall Riegan being of particular connection to Elidure either. I suppose it isn't unfeasible that the heir to the Leicester Alliance would be invited, but it is quite the trip for you to make."

[blaiddllodi]

well now look at us. idiots standing in a circle.

[blaiddllodi]

A very old book has come back into style. “Regarding Knights and Chivalry” is its title, penned by a so-called Knight of Faerghus nobody has heard of, and its foreword claims to offer a comprehensive guide to knightly conduct… except its teachings are utterly bizarre. When it isn’t making readers act like absolute fools, it’s dooming them to failure on the battlefield with its absolutely impractical and ridiculous advice. And yet it’s spread like wildfire among the public again, toted as the secret key to winning love. Are you falling for the silly fad, or are you trying to help kill it? [Grants Lance +1] (starter for @rigelprinceofdespair)

Whether your foe be a lout, he will drop his gauntlet in preparation for your wroth. To abase oneself of his level, drop your own in return – but if you are a man of honor, you will pick it up, and accept his challenge.

It is of a soft heart that one may tie a lady's favor about the haft of his tilting spear. Let this weigh you down not, instead bring trinkets of all value to the field of battle, and keep them close to one's heart, a reminder to fight all the harder.

Dimitri had heard a handful of these proverbs beginning to be shared about the campus, with increasing tones of self-assurance and indeed even smugness, the odd lilt of self-satisfaction that a young, naïve, warrior might express upon sharing something that he knew, that he believed his opponent did not.

He had patience for them, the first time or two when a training partner had told him as such, and had tried to explain as was his due responsibility, that this manner of conducting oneself was all well and good for a parable, but on the actual field of battle was the surest way to get a man, either oneself or those under his command, killed.

"But aren't these from your own Kingdom, Your Highness?"

Now that had been perplexing in its own right, and Dimitri could only shake his head in bafflement, not receiving any explanation except that it was a collection of advice from a most famous knight of the north. When he demanded to be shown this collection, all demurred, shrugged, said their copy was elsewhere.

He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted the strap of his lance over his shoulder, hoping beyond hope that there would be an absence of these sorts in the training hall today, perhaps he could actually get some exercise -

And with a sigh realized that it wasn't meant to be, at least until the fad had passed, and found another gaggle yet of students gathered about, proclaiming in haughty tones the best way to comport oneself with honor and dignity, and looking rather foolish for it.

"Ah? Berkut isn't it?" It was not quite a familiar face, but passing at least, and he approached without guile, waving a greeting and smiling ruefully. "I don't suppose you have the sense to know this is nonsense, do you? Can I hope?"

[crevassier]

la chancla (it's areadbhar)

continued from here | @blaiddllodi we're really in it now homie ong

[crevassier]

"You cannot continue in this way, Sylvain."

Had it come from anyone else, he would’ve allowed these words to brush by his cheek like a slap and continue his day. A reminder of something he already knew more than well enough by now, it having become far too big for him to possibly force himself to not notice or ignore- that he didn’t even want to ignore in the first place. Even if it had come from any of his closer friends, such as Ingrid or Felix, it would’ve been in vain. Perhaps it would’ve stung, but the feeling would’ve been shrugged off. Even if it had been said by his own father, it wouldn’t have settled heavy in his chest, or at least not so immediately.

But it came from Dimitri. His prince.

The man that gave meaning to his existence, who he vowed to stand by and protect and who he’d later completely dedicate his life to as knight and margrave. Someone he was bound to by duty, unquestionable devotion and familiarity from a shared childhood- though the latter seemed to have gotten tattered, a ribbon with frayed ends coming apart little by little.

Had it reached him? The fiasco with Dorothea and Ferdinand at the shores.

“...so, what about it now? Did any of the gossip reach you?” Dimitri’s scoldings were far from new to him, the Gautier had heard them enough times to memorize most by now- but this time it felt different. Before Sylvain always found a way to weevil himself out of it all, add a laugh or two, lighten the situation in an attempt to lift the heavy curtains and make a run for it promising ‘yeah yeah I’ll be careful’, but now velvet was replaced with steel bars and he was trapped. Whatever the prince had in store for him now, he’d have to listen whether he wanted it or not.

“Look- whatever it is that you heard, I know okay? I won’t play dumb.” He could still try- as even a rabbit trapped by a heron’s beak knew to struggle when facing certain death.

[blaiddllodi]

"How much does one ever hear?" he returned, throwing a sharp glance over, feelings the lines of his face tighten into that familiar mask of irritation. The patience that he had with Sylvain was an intimate affair, knowable only by the two of them, the same backs and forths to go over the same topics until one weaseled his way away or the other was dragged to another responsibility. It was also an infinite wellspring, deep and dug into the permafrost, the words and concern and yes, even the lectures, came only from a place of hope – that there was something better on the other side, that he acknowledged, but that Sylvain must acknowledge within himself.

"Sylvain, you have asked how many people here with you tonight, and then you abandon them at the gates. Far be it for me to dictate the course of your life, your love life or otherwise, but the harm that you cause continues regardless, and there are only so many bridges left to burn before you find yourself an island."

It wasn't a lie, but it was a platitude, surface level and turning that blind eye to the writhing mass beneath the deep dark that neither of them appeared to want to address in that moment, but had been building in strength for...it must have been years, hadn't it?

The words came to him easily, paths trod and retrod until they wore one another down - but this was different, Sylvain was different, he was resigned, no longer the affable front of dismissal, no longer trying to escape it, but...

Tired.

Something cold dragged up Dimitri's esophagus from his gut, and he took a breath, straightened in his seat.

The gossip.

Whatever you've heard.

Slowly, his face pinching, he turned to face Sylvain, fingers bunching into a fist in the fabric of his cape. "Sylvain....what have you done...?"

[duchaisruin]

the past arrives with a duel (be sure to win)

toa etheral ball 2025 ◈ entertainment - joust | blaiddllodi (mini)

[duchaisruin]

No matter how old or big Crested folk became from the years, they never outgrew being monsters. For Dimitri, this still remained true. Despite the prince's best efforts to hold back, the familiar sound of shattering and cracking pounded against Miklan's flimsy excuse of a shield, bending it towards the brigand. The brigand eyes fluttered to blink away the grains of sand and memories caught between his lashes.

The crowd roars in triumph: clapping, screaming, hollering, demanding for more. His heart pounded hard against the metal of his chest, but Miklan's kept a placid line across his lips. This was bad, this was the worst scenario that the brigand had been avoiding. Shifting his weight to slide off from his horses' saddle, the euphoria of the crowd quickly transformed into boo's and complaints. Whatever they had to say ricochet off of Miklan's metal back, fading into white noise. Miklan bit down against his cheek and the swollen chunks of his pride, iron staining his mouth; unhorsing from a duel and walking away was shameful.

Knowing the strength of the brat, even with a flimsy lance, the risk of his helmet getting knocked off was worse. Kicking his heels off from the stirrups, he timed the seconds till he can breathe again. There was still a way out of this—just get off your horse and walk away with the point and stay the hell out of the brat's way and—

Before he could plant a foot onto the sand, a referee cried out. "Hey, Knight Guy! You can't dismount off from your horse until round two!"

It took more strength than he'd wanted to admit to not buckle off from the stirrups in surprise. Bile fizzled up Miklan's throat as he gripped onto the reigns, the leather creaking from his grasp and his invisible panic was drowned out from the audience reignited roars

@blaiddllodi

[blaiddllodi]

cont from here

Dimitri nearly could not believe his eyes when his opponent actually began to dismount from his horse. It had been a joke, plainly - why enter a tilt if you were unwilling to be tilted? - but it seemed clear that whoever this person was, it had only taken one round for him to decide he wanted nothing to do with Dimitri.

The crowd appeared to let the man know what he thought of that, jeers and raucous disapproval rising in time with the waves, and Dimitri's brow furrowed.

"Well, I cannot in good conscience ride against a man here against his will," he attempted to call, above the crowd, but they seemed to take it as provocation, as a sarcastic challenge, and began clapping their hands in earnest to drive him forward once more.

He grimaced somewhat as the attendant came by with another lance for him, and considered for half a moment merely forfeiting, on behalf of the other man, to lay down his lance in mercy – but the crier called out the start of the round, and the flags went up with the cheers, so with a sigh he pressed his heels in and brought his horse to a canter forward, dipping the lance down just slightly, aiming off deliberately.

"NOOO!!" The boos rang high as the lance struck, cracked but did not break, and once more failed to score a point or to unhorse the helmed knight.

Dimitri attempted another smile across the field. "You appear to be doing better than you think! Come, strike a point against me, if you can!"

[blaiddllodi]

sleepless hours from sundown

[burningquake]

Ingrid had been on the sand when the storm began in earnest. She’d immediately taken to the shoreline, eyes squinting against heavy droplets, searching the dark sea with its bobbing ships for her friends. She was redirecting her search indoors, cursing her inefficient shoes, when she heard the shrill whinnying through the roar of rain, and the shouts, the sounds of animal struggle, coming from the stables. And then: a caped figure making its way toward its doors. Ingrid abruptly turned to follow.

The scene inside was chaos: a number of animals succumbing to their base fears, spurred on by unfamiliar neighbors, grooms and stablehands overwhelmed. But most nightmarish of all was Prince Dimitri, so kindhearted, just one stall door away from being dangerously clipped by a pegasus.

“Your Highness! Be careful!” she shouted. Then she sucked in a lungful of air–breathe! Breathe. There was no use adding to the clamor. Ingrid willed her blood to stop pounding; the Prince was safe, fine, capable, calling for her help. She stepped up alongside Dimitri, tried to tune out the cacophony of other animals.

“Whoa there. Easy, eaaasy, girl,” she tried, voice cooing low and even. “It’s only a storm. You’ve seen these before, haven’t you? It’s nothing, just a lot of water. It will pass. You’re in good hands here. His Highness is one of the best, most gentle horsemen I know, and I know many.”

Her string of chatter continued, automatic and constant and easier as it went, as Ingrid slid the door open and let herself sideways into the stall, careful not to face the mare directly. For a few hopeful seconds, ears swiveled toward her. Nostrils flared, contracted. Then a thunderclap. The mare reared again. Hoof struck wooden bucket, sending water sloshing. Ingrid flattened herself against the wall. 

Thus far, she’d mostly dealt with frightened horses back home, where she knew the herd’s circumstances, and the herd knew each other. This temporary shelter for a strange transient herd was another matter. The stall was clearly a short-term solution, slightly too small, especially if the animal was usually allowed to roam. Ingrid weighed options; the horses would likely come out fine, but this pegasus, clearly green, with her lighter, numerous bones, risked injury if she continued like this. Ingrid could only pray there were not too many others like her.

“This may sound preposterous, but I think she’s better off outside,” she said to Dimitri, already glancing around for a lead rope. “I doubt she will fly off in this weather, but being closed in like this is only making things worse. I recall seeing a paddock in the back–we could take her there.”

[blaiddllodi]

It did sound preposterous, but only for a moment, in the heat of high tension. There was an instinct deep within him that Dimitri could not suppress when he saw Ingrid shrink back, and he pushed himself before her, his back to the rearing beast while she sought the safety of the wall.

But the fact of the matter was that he trusted her – not merely because she was a skilled rider, or that her family's territory produced the finest pegasus for the whole of Fodlan, but because it was Ingrid. Intelligent, level-headed, kinder than she had reason to be, after everything that had befallen them.

Dimitri glanced over his shoulder at the stall itself, where the poor thing had continued to knock and buff against the temporary walls, and there was only the momentary calculation of the dangers of taking her outside into the rage of the storm, or allow her to carry that rage inside.

A nod, just the one dip of his chin to acquiesce, and he shifted out from in front of her, seeking to find the pegasus' lead - "Here. I will hold it, and you can calm her. With luck, she will continue to focus on you, and she will not be so frightened of the rain."

It was only rain, after all, no matter how driving, and perhaps Ingrid was right. He knew what his own feelings would be, were he in the same position, feeling the press of walls around him growing smaller by the second.

He too would attempt to break it down, inch by inch, if it allowed him to breathe clearly.

"Come on, then." The rope tight around his fist, Dimitri leaned forward, fingertips tugging the gate of the stall open, and prepared himself to restrain the force of hundreds of pounds of power, to prevent it from going wild.

[blaiddllodi]

May 2025 Activity Check

-PASSED-

Skill Points Earned: Monthly +1 Authority +1 (x) 50 -> 52

Allocated: Authority A+ Riding B+

[blaiddllodi]

when catering orders barbeque but you’re a vegetarian

[virtuoustyrfing]

The director's appearance nearly startles Seliph, who has forgotten where they are. Despite their shared loss, he wonders whether he should've kept his thoughts about the play to himself. He feels terrible, even, because he might have unintentionally unearthed something painful in the Faerghan prince.

He nods to the director, who walks away, seemingly satisfied. Seliph can hear him shouting directions to the stagehands and other actors.

Blue eyes flicker back to Dimitri.

"No," Seliph shakes his head, stepping back. "No," he repeats more intently, voice soft and quiet to avoid catching unwanted attention. "Please don't apologize. I fear I am at fault for dredging up such painful memories.

"But rest assured, I won't tell anyone what we have just discussed." With a hand brought over his heart, he nods. "Our break seems to be over, but my offer from earlier still stands—about practicing our lines together, if you have time for it."

That very same hand extends forward, now as a wordless invitation.

"Let's do our best to make this play a success with the roles we were given."

[blaiddllodi]

"Next take! Ready?"

In. Out.

Dimitri nodded his head, eyes lifting to the space where the audience would be on the night of performance, and allowed the warm, buzzing air of the space to fill his lungs. Seliph's understanding continued to prickle at him, to wrap around his shoulders as ill-fitting as the scratchy cloak that he wore for the performance - it was not that he could not find the compassion in his heart to extend to the young man, but that he was furious that it was necessary, that such things continued to befall young men no matter where in the world they were. No matter how young.

"Action!"

In. Out.

"It…it is an auspicious day for you! My men and I have prepared…a…" His head swam instantly, the heat of the lights and his own burgeoning rage flushing every inch of him, and he stopped for a moment, grit his teeth, forced himself to meet Seliph's eyes. "We've prepared a surprise for you."

Afterward, when all was said and done, when he had received the director's notes on his atrocious performance, Dimitri knelt before a pail, and vomited until the rage was all he felt.

- fin.

[blaiddllodi]

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

"Ah, Dimitri! I haven't seen you all evening," Mercedes rounds on him with a friendly smile. She holds the cheese plate aloft, nodding her head towards it. "I picked one up but there might be a little too much for me."

Mercedes hums thoughtfully, as though she has no idea how to solve such a predicament. As though she hadn't planned this. She pops a grape in her mouth before looking up at the young prince.

"I've noticed you tend to prefer cheese dishes at the monastery. Would you like to share this with me? You'd be doing me a huge favour."

"Mercedes! I'm glad to see you've kept yourself safe and dry." He hadn't had a chance to check on his housemates during the storm, but trusted that they would manage well enough - still, there was relief to find Mercedes before him, smiling and lovely.

His glance flickered down to the platter of cheese and accoutrements that she proffered, and a smile dawned on his face warmly. He...hadn't eaten much that evening, or that day, if he was being honest, and it was very like her to be so attentive. Dipping his head with a gentle, self-effacing laugh, Dimitri raised his gaze to hers, and gestured for a nearby table.

"You are too good for the likes of me Mercedes, but I'd be honored to...assist you with such an enormous task."

Unclipping the seashell charm from his wrist, he tapped it onto the platter, and pressed his hand to the small of her back. "Why don't you go save us a seat, and I will join you shortly. Perhaps I can find us some crackers."

[blaiddllodi]

[ GARDEN ] - The Viscount has a greenhouse attached to his estate, hosting his collection of flowers both normal and enchanted, imported from a variety of places and modified by his own hands. Being unable to go outside in these conditions in any safety, this might be the next best thing.

Berkut had hoped that perhaps escaping to the Garden would be enough to grant him some peace of mind for once. In his homeland a private garden like this would be a luxury only the richest in the country could possibly own. Once he had detested a place like this, it screamed of Zofian indulgence and weakness.

Yet now as he walked through, all he could remember is a small flower garden, tucked behind a small manor. Shaking his head, he focused on the flowers around him. No idea what kind were around here, yet appreciating their beauty none the less. A smile even graced his face as he turned a corner...

Only to be instantly banished. Of everyone he could have run into in the garden, why did it have to be him? Berkut stiffened, remembering their encounter before. It seemed at least Dimitri had made it to the manor. Perhaps without any of the troubles he had experienced this night.

Berkut walked up, reaching one hand into his pouch. Continuing the pointless argument from the cave would benefit neither of them here. Besides, he was a noble, he could step above such pettiness. Approaching the blonde man Berkut held out one of the pearl charms.

"It seemed we both managed to get back to the estate. Congratulations." Berkut's tone made it clear there was zero sincerity behind his words. "Here, have one of these tokens. Call it... thanks for the great concern in the cave."

Once things had settled down into the manor, no longer scurrying to and fro to seek shelter or safety from the storm, the whole affair was rather...peaceful. Whether continuing the party in the ballroom, wandering the halls, or, such as was his case, finding quiet in the garden, everyone seemed content to move about with their evening as though, by and large, nothing ill had befallen.

The rain lashing against the great glass walls of the nursery provided a calming thrum of white noise, a background heartbeat as he moved through the lush green spaces. Even at the monastery, where foodstuffs were grown and rare species preserved, there was nothing quite like this, so cultivated for appeal rather than for practicality.

He'd never seen anything like it. For all that Faerghus had its own plethora of wild flora, it had its distinct character that was nothing to soft and lovely as this.

Dimitri heard the click of bootheels behind him, and turned, prepared for a pleasant exchange with a stranger, but felt his eyes narrow momentarily upon seeing the dour, dark face of that man from before.

"Yes. Berkut, isn't it?" Hand lifted on instinct, to meet the other where it proffered the pearl, and Dimitri took it with a blink, before a small smile lifted one corner of his lips, and he unclipped a seashell from his own wrist in exchange.

"Thanks are not necessarily, but I apologize for...the ill foot we managed to get on. Perhaps it was the storm that set us on edge. I'm pleased to see you managed to make it here safely. I'm sure that you rescued a good deal of people on your way. In the future, we might work together," he added, hand remaining outstretched for a cordial shake, an offer to start anew.

[blaiddllodi]

[ SLIP AND SLIDE ] - The Viscount has graciously offered to shelter a majority of the guests in his own estate at a moment’s notice, and his staff does all they can to help direct as many people as possible towards it. However, it’s still a good distance away from the ball’s intended venue, and so the sprint there might be laden with scrapes and unfortunate falls with how the weather’s being

An almighty crash of thunder and lightening interrupted the music. Causing all attendants to look up in alarm.

"We're sorry to interrupt the festivities, but can I ask everyone to make their way to the towers" The Viscount announced. "This is for everyone's safety. Be careful but quick"

As soon as the announcement finished, people streamed out in a panicked rush, heading to the tall towers looming over the mansion. Caught up in the rush, Byleth found themself next to a familiar face.

"Hey Dimitiri" They called out "Watch out!"

The warning was shouted to alert him to the large, muddy stretch of ground coming up which several students had already fallen (literally) foul of. "Don't want to see his highness eat dirt"

He would follow at the rear, in guard, in sentinel, in the hopes that any who came before him he could redirect and guide to better footing and more assured safety.

So far, there had been some casualties of the textile sort, mud smearing hems and faces alike, and streaming down the hill with the rain washing it out before they even made it upright. It was a slog the likes of which he had scarcely seen, but for recently. Thankful for the training, he pushed onward.

"Professor!" He waved excitedly to see Byleth, and diverted his course in an attempt to be nearer them, to try to assist them if necessary as well. "Apologies, professor what was that?"

If only the storm wasn't so loud, the thunder so high and rolling in the sky, drowning out any chance he might have of hearing what they had to say to him. He picked up his pace to a jog, long legs eating the space easily -

Flash - !!

OOF!

The final of three long strides found him tumbling face-first forward and down, arms reaching for a moment, and hooking along Byleth's, dragging them down with him as he found himself on his back in the mud, spluttering the rain in his face.

"Professor, I'm so sorry! Are you hurt? Here let me - "

Arrogance was man's greatest weakness, and Dimitri understood that never more clearly than when he tried to stand in that moment and the mud slipped and skidded beneath his boots and he found himself seated once more. With a sigh of resignation for himself, at least for the moment, he offered a hand for Byleth to steady themself, and a shoulder which wouldn't move.

"I messed that one up, didn't I? Please, forgive me. I'll stand in a moment, after you, please. Take my charm, while you are at it."

[blaiddllodi]

[ POMEGRANATE ] So, like....how does one eat from one of these? It's the question of the night that she didn't expect herself asking, but holds a high regard towards. If this is being served here, there has to be a way to consume it without the sparkling red seeds getting all over oneself. A way to dispose them is also important to know, too, but...but!! She spots another person checking out the pomegranates. Ok, this is her chance. She'll head over, hold a casual conversation, and learn through example. Then she won't make an embarrassment of herself, nor will she stain her outfit! She'll prove she can handle this fabled dish without issue.

"A shame the evening turned the way it did, huh?" She greets, resting her elbows against the table. She looks to the other and, waittttt. Even she knows a face like his. Quickly, eyes dart to the side. She picks up a pomegranate of her own, but doesn't attempt to eat it just yet.

It seemed only a moment ago, with that strange young girl - whose night he perhaps darkened, although she had been the one to broach the heavier topics he need not have engaged so - where these fruits had been in such abundance, and had already come husked.

Now, he stood frowning at them, flummoxed by their fickle nature and dour by lingering thoughts of the underworld, of walking ghosts, the blood that wouldn't leave his hands if he only reached.

Dimitri started, just slightly, at the voice at his shoulder, and he offered the girl a smile. "Indeed. We can be grateful that everyone appears to be no worse for the wear, merely...wet and cold. Ah, be careful - "

He was about to say to be careful with the fruit, that the last time he had attempted to crack one open it had spilled its innards all over the floor, but he stopped himself, watched with interested eyes. Surely she would not have the same issues that he had.

He cleared his throat. "I believe they sit in clusters, just beneath the rind. They are lighter than one might expect, aren't they? Do you need a sharp knife, here let me -" and he reached, found one underneath a separate platter and handed it to her carefully, almost expectantly.

"Pardon, I...where are my manners. I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. I haven't gotten your name, but...if you'd like, once we peel this, I'd be delighted to share the seeds with you. And our charms, if you are amenable to that," he added, gesturing to the delicate seashell on his wrist.

[blaiddllodi]

sleepless hours from sundown

[blaiddllodi]

[ STABLES ] - With so many people needing to travel to get to the new venue this year, perhaps you thought to beat the roadside traffic by taking to the skies? All mounts have been escorted to specially designated stables for the event, being looked after by the staff while their riders enjoy the entertainment. For those who prefer animals more than people, this is the place to go. (starter for @burningquake)

It was often forgotten, in the heat of things, at the height of cataclysm and panic, to assess the care and integrity of things which were not human. This could have been anything from structure, to landscape, but most often and most unfortunately affected the animals in the care of those who left them behind.

Although his own horse was a trained warhorse, being boxed in a stable while there is unknown catastrophe (or less – it was not as though the poor things knew the difference) happening just outside of one's scope would make even the staunchest of hearts begin to panic.  To say nothing of the wyverns, irascible and gnashing teeth.

To say nothing of the pegasus.

Once Dimitri had been assured that those who could not fend for themselves had shelter in the manse, he'd made his way to the stables erected on the beach, allowed the rain to pelt his face and arms before he ducked inside, flinging his sopping cape off as he reached to attend to the first and closest, a slim-winged pegasus knocking her knees against the stall door.

"Hold! Please, calm!" A hand reached forward, and he bit back his own feelings, any frustration or stress, in the hopes he could present the calmest face possible. It didn't work, and she spread her wings, beating against the walls, whinnying helplessly.

"Ah – Ingrid! Please, you are better at this than I – I need your help!"

[blaiddllodi]

about to go fight i'll post the vid after

i got my ass beat bruh i'm not posting that shit (x)

[blaiddllodi]

Are the elementals of Morfis up to their old tricks again? Who knows. They are, however, suspected as the most likely cause of these new portals popping up on occasion. Stepping into one brings you to a strange place beyond the monastery’s walls. A large, circular arena awaits, beyond which are two large doors. In the center of the arena, a lone treasure chest sits. The doors don’t open without a key, and with no other obvious way out, the only thing left is to check the chest - but wait! Doing so summons monsters aplenty. It is only after these foes are defeated that you find a key. Tentatively, you try one of the doors… Oops! Wrong one, it would seem, as you wake up some time later back at the monastery with no sign of the portal, only for another to show up some time later. A treasure hunting game is afoot, and to the first to successively clear all stages go the spoils! [Grants Any Skill +1] (starter for @thelightofcreation @unsungblade @unslake)

In.

Out.

The butt of Areadbhar's shaft tapped against the ground with a heavy sound, muffled somehow in the tight space of the alleyway before the portal, a weighty punctuation of the gentle sigh he let out.

To his understanding, these portals had continued appearing intermittently, and had slowly been eradicated one by one by others from the monastery - students, knights, professors, all had banded together to clear out whatever awaited inside. He could not pretend to be interested in whatever treasure might have been promised within; lives had been threatened, and there was more danger than the lay person could face.

His eyes rested, intense, on the swirl of the portal before him, a warp in the air before them that they might not have seen if they did not know to look for it, a ripple, almost as though a movement underwater.

Dimitri turned to his companions, thankful that they all to a man seemed determined, and capable, and dependable.

In.

Out.

He tapped the butt of Areadbhar against the stone once more, as though making a decision.

"Once we step within, we will not be able to retreat. Thank you, for fighting at my side, and at my back. Together, I believe we will be able to eliminate the threat within."

A beat, glancing from man to man.

Then; "Are we ready?"

[blaiddllodi]

— RANDAL’S GOT- WELL, HE’S actually got a good chunk of talents that he’s proud of, but one of his favorites is his ability to appear ruggedly-dashing no matter how scuffed up he looked. And he certainly looked scuffed up frequently, as so happened on account of being a sword-for-hire, but he made it work. For better or for worse, as morning-after regret had taught him.

But for now its for the better, shirt half unbuttoned and curls sticking wetting to his forehead as he runs a hand through a tangled mop of hair. Gods bless, these people had the sense to keep partying despite the circumstances that surround them! Truly a people after his own heart. He half-looks at the food he picks up while circling the crowds, enjoying the view as- ah!

There he was! A boy that seemed intent on popping back up in Randal’s peripherary more often than not. Well, given the whole ‘leader of his house’ thing, Randal shouldn’t be surprised, but he did note the idea with no little bemusement. Randal had already cemented himself as a heel in Dimitri’s life, so why not go all the way?

“Dimitri! Ser.” He claps the boy roughly on the back, smiling all the while. “Good t’see yer keepin’ morale up! Would be mighty unfortunate ta see a good-n’-great leader all down and out of sorts. Partyin’ in times of crisis? Well!” Randal wags a finger. “That’s the sorta folk I wanna see at th’ helm!”

He ravages around in his plate, and after a moment, procures a mint wrapped in the palm of his hand, accompanied by one of his charms: a seashell. “For our good ser,” he says plaintitively. “No good deed unrewarded, is it?”

[ FAKE MINT CANDY ] - For when you’d like for a certain someone’s breath to be less than fresh as newly-fallen snow, but would still like to plead innocent after the damage is done.

Dimitri, in the bustle of lingering panic from the crowds, of coordinating relief efforts - if one could call it that, this was no war, and the amenities were plentiful and as rich as the party itself - had not noticed the man that had come up behind him until the hand was on his back. He stiffened instantly, head swiveling to see who exactly it was, and finding his brow hardening at the familiar face.

"Sir Randal." His tone indicated that it was not meant as an honorific. "A pleasure to see you well, then."

Turning to face the man, Dimitri found himself straightening his posture just slightly, jaw tightening - the instinct to fill the space with not merely his body but his aura, steadfast and unwilling to brook disrespect. Initially, he'd had nothing against the man, and indeed even at the harvest festival he understood that their roles were misaligned through no fault of their own. Randal was intelligent, and had spoken sense - but Dimitri was intelligent as well, and despite his instincts, his role was to sabotage as best he could.

This, along with many other things, seemed to be a thing unforgivable to the man, whether he would admit it or not.

"Are you here to help with recovery? No, I suppose not - " The question answered itself at Randal's next statement, and Dimitri knew well how he was being made fun of. Sighing through his nose, he glanced about the hall - pleased to see, at least, that most of the party that remained continued unabated.

Eyes flicked down to the seashell and, under more lingering scrutiny, the wrapped sweet. It shouldn't have rankled so much, but that it felt like a gesture for a child.

Dimitri attempted a smile, stiff, and extended a hand to take the charm with a shake, palming the seashell and replacing it with one of his own. The mint, though...

"Thank you, Sir Randal. It is...always like you, to keep such an eye out, isn't it?"

He would dispose of it later, if he remembered - or if not, then it would remain at the bottom of his pocket, stashed in the back of his closet, forevermore.

[blaiddllodi]

[ POMEGRANATE ] - There's no shortage of food at the gathering, a sight rarer in Thracia than it was here. It wasn't always that they lacked the resources to provide more extravagant feasts depending on the occasion, merely that war and famine had granted them a different set of priorities from other nations. Sara doesn't concern herself with the politics of the North or the South regardless of their prolonged argument. Neither side has any love for those associated with the Loptr Church, former or otherwise.

The porcelain bowl of seeds set on the table seems to be neglected by the other guests, so naturally she chooses that one to inspect and pluck a small pile from before turning to be on her way, no true destination in mind.

She runs into him for no reason but chance, and that hardly bothers her. Chance is another word for fate. Her head tilts to the side, curtain of lilac falling. Maybe a thread they have yet to unearth connects them together.

"Pomegranate is sometimes called the fruit of the Underworld, don't you suppose that makes the seeds its children?" Most do not travel there until they have lived fulfilling lives, but there are outliers. Spiritual deaths before the body decays. "I've never been to hell myself, but stories have the tendency to be mistaken. People return more often than you would believe. "

Punctuating the statement by tipping her head backwards, she thoughtfully pops the shell between her teeth, then holds the remaining seeds out to him, "Would you like one too?"

He knew this one - the fruit, in spite of so many others not. He remembered it from last year, remembered its surprising lightness when he had plucked it from the table to present to Edelgard, remembered the way the blood dripped from his hands and onto the clean marble floor as it had crushed like papier mache in his hands.

Dimitri blinked at being spoken to, and his brow furrowed, resisting the urge to shake his head, to dislodge the veil of shadow that had come over his vision for that moment, vibrant only for the red of the drops in the bowl.

He cleared his throat. "It is good to see that they have figured out how to husk it properly."

The blithe statement belied the way his mind lingered, then, on the underworld, on her children, on all those souls who remained clinging to the frozen wastes of the earth unable to relinquish their holds on the living, driving them forward to fulfill the needs that they could not attain for themselves.

Gently, unaware until that moment that he had held a breath in, Dimitri reached forward a hand to pluck a tender seed between forefinger and thumb, painfully aware then at how white his gloves, how clean his hands, how stained they would be in only a moment, how red.

He considered the seed, thoughtfully for a moment, before replying; "Keep yourself from the gates of hell, if you are able. The dead may find you either way, but..." A sigh, pressing the seed to his tongue, but not biting down just yet, finding his throat flooded with the iron rush of blood. He grimaced.

"Forgive me. Perhaps this is a less pleasant topic of discussion, for such an event. You seem to be enjoying the fruit, regardless."