[bravarley-blog]

anyways my unannounced hiatus is over happy early halloween

[prismably]

oh you know!

[bravarley-blog]

consider blue lions bernie

[charmymemes]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

all quotes are taken from the fire emblem mobile game, fire emblem heroes, feel free to change pronouns!

‘ here, take this torch with you for patrols. it should make it a little easier for you to find your way in the dark. ’

‘ when there are two precious things in your life … you must choose between them. ’

‘ some get lost around here. so, really, it’s best i keep an eye on you. ’

‘ how about you and i have a little chat? ’

‘ promise you’ll never leave us … without warning me first. ’

‘ ___’s personality suits this sort of getup … my sister has a modern sensibility. but me? why ME? ’

‘ my father is stern and very serious … i think seeing me in this getup would probably make him faint. ’

‘ hey! what’s gotten into you? ’

‘ you think this outfit looks good on me? ’

‘ mind telling me your story? i don’t know much about much, so you’ll find me a ready listener. ’

‘ is it just me, or is this place strange? ’

‘ my friends? good people. and fun. ’

‘ i want to believe in justice. i want to know i’m doing the right thing. ’

‘ can you hear that songbird? what a pretty voice it has! let’s get closer and listen … ’

‘ i want become the shield that protects you. ’

‘ this is making me a little self-conscious. ’

‘ i am NOT scared! ’

‘ be careful with that. work too hard, and you’ll wear yourself out. ’

‘ looking for something? ’

‘ cut it out! what are we, kids? ’

‘ the scenery outside is stunning. you and i should go strolling. i’d love to find out all about your favorite places. ’

‘ weary, ___? you can always rest your head on my lap. ’

‘ i adore strolling around here in the spring. it’s simply ideal - so many flowers! ’

‘ you know what will set off this dress? flowers. lots of flowers. ’

‘ your diligence is admirable, but don’t overexert yourself. ’

‘ i wonder if there’s any feeling worse than unrequited love. ’

‘ one rarely succeeds without help from others. if you need help, you can turn to me, or any of us. ’

‘ not a soul in this world dies without knowing regret and hatred. ’

‘ let’s see you dodge this! ’

‘ i’m a student at the ___. for now. ’

‘ a painting? … MY painting?! ’

‘ together, we cannot lose. ’

‘ how curious. i feel such warmth and hope when near you. ’

‘ promise me, please. that you won’t leave me alone. ’

‘ orders, please. ’

‘ what a remarkable book you have there. would you be so kind as to let me take a look at it? ’

‘ ooh! Why must you be so … ’

‘ i want to leave a gift beside ___’s pillow. do you think he will realize it is from me? ’

‘ you have my gratitude — you know that, right? ’

‘ you know, if you ever want my attention, just call for me. ’

‘ i think we can work very well together. don’t you? ’

‘ i’m with you. all the way. ’

‘ forgive me … ’

‘ i want to help out so you can take a break. ’

‘ i had a strange dream. so many people, calling my name … ’

‘ everyone always seems a bit restless … ’

‘ nothing would make me happier than being your friend. ’

‘ you look a bit grim, friend. we’re all here for you, so don’t fret! ’

[bravarley-blog]

fomorias‌:

     and  there  it  is.   that  disbelief.   seteth  raises  a  hand  to  his  chin,   brows  raising  curiously.   he  knows  he  shouldn’t  even  play  with  the  thought  of  revealing  his  truth,   but  there’s  a  small  part  of  him  that’s  EXHILARATED  to  see  how  much  she  might  be  able  to  uncover  he  he  leaves  vague  clues  like  a  crumb  trail.   (  he  might  as  well  have  been  doing  that  from  the  START.   the  fable  itself  that  he  wrote  already  tests  small  parts  of  the  church’s  dogma.  )

     ❝  oh?   tell  me,   for  what  reason  would  i  have  to  lie  about  mishearing  you?  ❞   he’s  playing  with  FIRE  now.   it’s  common  knowledge  against  a  knowledge  she  doesn’t  even  know  exists.   cichol  died  about  eight  hundred  years  ago.   or  that  cichol  is  alive  and  talking  to  her  at  this  very  moment.

          what  reason  would  he  have  to  lie?   as  far  as  she  knows,   there  isn’t  a  reason.   but  she  finds  herself  looking  back  on  conversations,   the  way  he’d  speak  of  saint  indech  as  if  he  were  a  personal  friend,   accurate  descriptions,   almost  startlingly  so,   to  an  extent  that  she  had  never  heard  from  anyone  else  in  the  church.   any  shred  of  reasoning  she  could  have  to  explain  herself  is  all  personal  theory  and  observation,   not  grounded  in  any  sort  of  reality,   she  thinks.

           but  he  asked,   and  even  if  it’s  embarrassing  to  say   ‘ well  you  just  describe  the  saints  really  accurately ‘,   that’s  the  best  she  has  to  offer.   a  moment  of  hesitation  before  she  weakly  offers,   “  you  describe ---   talk  about  saint  indech  like  you  knew  him.   no  one  else  has  described  him  like  you  have!   i  almost  feel  like . . .   like  i  could  have  met  him  through  you.  “

[bravarley-blog]

holycharm‌:

            “    tell  me,  when  was  the  last  time  you  truly  felt  at  ease?    “            lithe  fingers  have  begun  to  fidget,  downcast  gaze  finding  thing  of  little  interest  at  her  feet.

          “  um . . .  “   gaze  cast  awkwardly  to  the  side,   her  hands  wring  anxiously  in  front  of  her.   she  can’t  remember  if  she  ever  has  felt  at  ease.   “  i ---   i  don’t  know?  “

[bravarley-blog]

—- CHARACTER  TRUTHS

bold  –   always  ⁄  often italic   –   sometimes

001.   smoking:  the  action  or  habit  of  inhaling  &  exhaling  the  smoke  of  tobacco  or  a  drug.

002.   binge drinking:  the  consumption  of  an  excessive  amount  of  alcohol  in  a  short  period  of  time.

003.   drug abuse:  the  habitual  taking  of  illegal  drugs.

004.   nail-biting:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  anxiety / tension.

005.   lip-biting:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  anxiety / tension.

006.   night owl: a  person  who  is  habitually  active  or  wakeful  at  night.

007.   early bird:  a  person  who  rises ,  arrives ,  or  acts  before  the  usual  or  expected  time.

008.   negative attitudes: a  philosophy  of  approaching  life  with  criticism  &  pessimism.

009.   positive attitudes:  a  philosophy  of  approaching  life  with  optimism  &  confidence.

010.   swearing:  the  use  of  offensive  language.

011.   superstitious:  an  irrational  belief  that  an  object ,  action ,  or  circumstance  not  logically  related  to  a  course  of  events  influences  its  outcome.

012. inspecting fingernails:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  boredom.

013. scratching your neck:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  uncertainty.

014. foot  &  finger  tapping:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  stress / impatience.

015. nose touch:  a  subtle  body  language  sign  of  deceit.

016. flipping  hair:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  craving  attention.

017.  twirling  hair:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  flirtation.

018.  cracking  knuckles:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  readiness.

019.  hands behind back:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  confidence.

020.   finger-pointing:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  authority.

021.   hands on hips:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  readiness.

022.   hands in pockets:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  mistrust / reluctance.

023.   frequent touch:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  warmth / familiarity.

024.   throat  –  clearing:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  rejection / doubt.

025.  jaw  –  clenching:  a  common  body  language  sign  of  hostility.

026.   eye  –  rolling: a  common  body  language  sign  of  irritation.

027.   head  –  tilt: a  common  body  language  sign  of  interest. [so much]

028.   whistling: to  emit  high  –  pitched  sound  by  forcing  breakthrough  a  small  hole  between  one’s  lips  or  teeth;  usually  to  a  tune.

029.   humming:  make  a  low,  steady  continuous  sound  like  that  of  a  bee;  usually  to  a  tune.

030.   perfectionism:  refusal  to  accept  any  standard  short  of  perfection.

031.   photographic memory:  the  ability  to  remember  information  or  visual  images  in  great  detail.

032.   paranoia:  a  mental  condition  characterized  by  delusions  of  persecution ,  unwarranted  jealousy ,  or  exaggerated  self  –  importance,  typically  worked  into  an  organized  system.

033.   exaggeration:  a  statement  that  represents  something  as  better  or  worse  than  it  really  is.

034.   intuitive:  using  or  based  on  what  one  feels  to  be  true  even  without  conscious  reasoning;  instinctive.

035.   quick-witted:  showing  or  characterized  by  an  ability  to  think  or  respond  quickly  &  effectively.

036.   interrupting:  breaking  the  continuity  of  a  conversation  with  one’s  own  statements.

037.   doodling:  to  scribble  or  make  rough  drawings,  absentmindedly.

038.   irritable:  having  or  showing  a  tendency  to  be  easily  annoyed.

039.   gambling:  to  play  games  of  chance  for  money;  bet.

040.   travel – sick:  suffering  from  nausea  caused  by  the  motion  of  a  moving  vehicle ,  boat ,  or  aircraft.

041.   sensitive:  having  or  displaying  a  quick  &  delicate  appreciation  of  others’  feelings.

042.   melancholy:  a  feeling  of  pensive  sadness,  typically  with  no  obvious  cause.

043.   chewing gum:  the  exercise  of  chewing  flavored  gum  which  is  not  intended  for  swallowing.

044.   fidgeting:  to  make  small  movements,  especially  of  the  hands  &  feet,  through  nervousness  or  impatience.

045. skeptical:  not  easily  convinced;  having  doubts  or  reservations.

046.  neat–freak:  compulsively  obsessed  with  cleanliness.

047.   gossiping:  divulging  personal  information  about  others.

048.   prim:  feeling  or  showing  disapproval  of  anything  regarded  as  improper;  stiffly  correct.

049.   abbreviating:  giving  others  nicknames / shortening  names / giving  pet  names.

050.   having a catchphrase: having  a  sentence  or  phrase  typically  associated  with  a  specific  person.  

tagged by. @stormsiris thank you <3 tagging. @mightstrike, @solbled, @fauxduke, @fomorias, @fleetingdance

[bravarley-blog]

fauxduke‌:

     “Stop squawking.” Coming from anyone else it would sound harsh, but from Felix? It’s pretty standard fare, actually. The papers are held firmly in one hand close to the sword at his hip. Felix doesn’t doubt that he could keep them away from her if he wanted (actually, what if the pulls that technique out again? Does it work for papers, sheets of paper too? Maybe he should test it out), but if he makes a big deal out of it she’d probably be all the more eager to grab at them. Best to stonewall her, as ever. 

      “That’s not true.” And he could leave it at that, easy, and call it a day, but her comment really ticks him off. Pages crinkle beneath his foot at he shifts his weight, returning his now-empty hand to his hip. “Even with the barest of details, the likeness in these sketches is striking.” How does he come off as chiding even when he’s giving compliments? Really, Felix. “Look.” Procuring one of the pages, he holds it out to her, pointing to one of the sketches there. “I’ve been struggling with this move for a while. But the problem is illustrated right here. My arms bend too much at the elbow so it’s hard to swing the blade. Get it?” 

     And he pulls the sheets away again, creasing them with the force of his fingertips. “I’d still be struggling with it if I hadn’t seen these. Now I know what to work on. I’m keeping them.”

     And then, like an afterthought (but no less forceful than anything else he’s said), “Don’t sell your talents short like that.”

          She falls silent as soon as he tells her too,  nodding anxiously as he pulls the papers she had wanted to take back too close to his sword for comfort.  She fidgets and shuffles just a little closer,  ever closer,  in a less than subtle attempt to get within arms reach of snatching them from his grasp.  Regardless of what he needs them for,  she never wanted him to see any of these in the first place,  and maybe it’s a bit rude to try and grab at the sheets and run but it’s the only plan of action she has in mind.  It’s not like she thinks she’ll win in a battle of strength,  or wits,  or anything else,  really.

          Bernadetta has never taken Felix for one to hand out compliments easily,  but even knowing that she can’t quite wrap her head around why he would bother to point out anything good about her little sketches.  It’s just hard to believe,  and she has to bite back the urge to argue against him,  to deflect with a negative comment.  It’s a habit that’s hard to break,  and she’s not even doing a very good job of even trying.  For now,  she looks at the sketch he’s pointing out,  and hesitantly nods.   “  Um . . .   I . . .   I guess I can see what you’re saying.  “

          For a moment she moves to reach out towards the page before he’s pulled them away,  safely out of her reach.  She,  a little more than conveniently,  skips over his comment to not sell herself short ( she doesn’t exactly feel like her talents are much to write home about )  “  B-But-----  do you really have to take those with you?!  It’s embarrassing!  It’s awful!  If I had known you were going to steal them I would have put more effort in than that!  “

[bravarley-blog]

fomorias‌:

     confusion,   is  his  initial  reaction  to  her  panicked  state.   and  then  it  clicks  in  his  head  what  she  called  him.   oh.   oh.   that’s .  .  .   not  good.   he’s  trained  himself  to  keep  quiet  when  people  talk  about  saint  cichol,   to  not  respond  to  such  things,   that  it’s  not  HIM  anymore.   and  yet  it’s  so  very  easy  to  fall  into  old  habits.   (  besides,   it’s  not  as  if  it’s  ever  HAPPENED  before.   it  makes  sense,   why  he  would  slip  now.  )

     ❝  i—  ❞   he’s  good  at  lying,   ❝  i  missed  what  you  called  me,   you  need  not  worry  yourself  too  much  over  it  all.   mistakes  happen  all  the  time.  ❞   but  seteth  also  knows  that  such  words  are  not  so  EASILY  bought,   oft  times.   he’ll  understand  if  she  grows  SKEPTICAL  of  his  answer.   (  that  he  lies  as  easily  as  he  answers  to  his  own  name  is  tragic.  )

          she  considers  herself  overly  observant  to  an  unfortunate  degree,   a  byproduct  of  feeling  like  she  needed  to  constantly  be  on  the  lookout  for  her  father.   it,   at  least,   comes  in  useful  here  as  she  watches  the  expressions  on  seteth’s  face  carefully,   from  confusion  to  something  she  can’t  quite  place,   back  to  something  she  can  more  comfortably  call  his  usual  expression.   he’s  lying,   she  can  tell  that  much.

          “  um . . .  “   there’s  a  hesitant  pause,   anxiety  flaring  again.   she  thinks  maybe  she  should  just  drop  it,   forget  it  ever  happened  and  move  on,   pretend  that  she’d  never  slipped  up  on  his  name.   but  there’s  a  touch  of  curiosity  that  keeps  her  from  quieting  herself  out  of  fear.   it’s  just  seteth,   after  all.   “  i . . .   don’t  think  you’re  telling  the  truth.  “

[bravarley-blog]

[bravarley-blog]

   stay alive,  bernie!  ------   do you like tired,  purple recluses?   well then you’d love this bernadetta von varley,  written by aster,  and you should like  and / or  reblog if you’re interested in interacting with her!

[bravarley-blog]

“i need to sleep, i think.”

          who  doesn’t?   this  far  into  the  war,   with  so  much  to face,   it’s  not  exactly  a  surprise  she  finds  byleth  running  himself  into  the ground.   eyebrows  furrow  with  worry,   and  as  tired  as  she  finds  herself,   she’d  rather  concern  herself  with  the  well - being  of  the  person  who’d  saved  her  life  all  those  years  ago.   she  still  hasn’t  let  that  go,   the  whole  memory  tinged  with  guilt.

          “  you  should …   everyone’s  worried  about  you.   i —–   i  mean,   just,   with  how  much  you’ve  been  working.  “

alice isn’t dead  /  accepting  /  @edgecfdawn

[bravarley-blog]

bandage !

          “  ow —  ow —  ow —  “   she  winces  with  every  dab  of  an  alcohol  soaked  cloth  on  her  arm,   squirming  despite  the  fact  that  she  should  be  staying  still.   it’s  a  relatively  minor  injury,   not  one  that  requires  manuela’s  attention  or  even  really  any  sort  of  healing  magic.   it  would  just  be  a  waste  to  seek  out  a  healer  to  patch  up  a  minor  injury  on  her  arm.

          it’s  her  self  esteem  that’s  taken  more  damage  than  her  actual  arm —–   how  could  she  be  so  clumsy  as  to  injure  herself  on  a  sword  that  wasn’t  even  being  held?!   and  all  in  front  of  edelgard  too …   her  cheeks  flush  with  embarrassment,   and  she  can’t  bring  herself  to  even  look  at  her  house  leader.   it’s  just  too much.  “  you …   you  really  don’t  have  to  do  this,   i  can  bandage  myself.  “

nonverbal starters  /  accepting  /  @eaglrd

[bravarley-blog]

would u hug her

[bravarley-blog]

mightstrike‌:

  “ i - uh. ” you don’t. you stay  there, hovering slightly. hand comes up to rub at the back of your head, and you hang away. you - you ! want to tell her it’s okay ! you’re her friend, after all ! you didn’t know she was gonna be here, but you kinda like to hang out in the greenhouse. weird, for a meathead like yourself, right ? well, you just think it’s nice ! isn’t a guy allowed to like flowers ? it’s quiet, and hey, even you need that sometimes. everything’s cool here, but it gets too much, even for you. 

  “ i dunno much about them. they uh… come from hot places, right? ” you get the idea she knows a lot more about them than you do. you slide just a little closer, to look at the flower a little better, shoot a smile at her. it wobbles slightly. “ they… uh. eat things? ” a pause. yeah. great. “ haha, i don’t actually know a ton. could you tell me? ”

          she  feels  guilty  for  watching  him  so  closely,   gaze  anxiously  flitting  between  him  and  the  plant  he’s  pointed  out.   it’s  not  him,   really,   he  just  tends  to  be  loud  and  maybe  he  still  makes  her  anxious  to  be  around,   but  she’s  really  trying!   he  pauses  awkwardly,   and  she  already  knows  that  his  answer  will  be  that  he  doesn’t  know  much  about  them.   that’s  okay,   this,   at least,   she’s  more  than  happy  to  explain.   it’s  something  to  distract  her  from  the  clawing  anxiety  in  her  chest.

          “  not  necessarily  hot . . .   they  just  like  a  lot  of  sunlight,   and  a  lot  of  water,   usually.  “   he  scoots  closer  and  she  has  to  fight  against  the  instinct  to  back  away.   it  would  hurt  his  feelings,   she knows  it  would,   and  she  really  doesn’t  want  to  do  that.   she  leans  forward  a  little,   points  at  the  bright  red  of  the  plant,   “  um,   did  you  know  it’s  this  bright  red  to  attract  bugs?   they . . .   they  like  the  color.  “

[bravarley-blog]

fauxduke‌:

     He predicted the screaming, so why does it still set his teeth on edge when she lets loose? Felix’s jaw tightens as he watches her display, eyes narrowing, but his gaze quickly shifts from Bernadetta to the papers that scatter across the floor like ashes. “Was that really necessary?” He asks, exasperated. “If you could weaponize that voice you could really be of use on the battlefield.” Still, Felix doesn’t waste a second, stooping to grab a few papers. Normally, he’d just hand them right back, but something about them demands his attention.

     As he looks each sheet over, his brows only draw lower over his eyes.

      “…Are these…?” A pause as his eyes rove over the pages before he scoops up a couple more. “That’s Sylvain. I’d recognise that sloppy style anywhere. And this must be Ashe. I can’t believe he’s still nervous with a sword.” And then he catches sight of his own form. There’s pages and pages of it (has he been here so long?) and while some of it looks right, a few sketches don’t sit right with him. “Do my arms really stick out so straight…?” Felix asks, more to himself than anyone else. Finally he lets out a sigh, flips through the pages he has and pulls out the ones that involve him, offering the rest to Bernadetta. 

      “Here. They’re yours. I’m keeping these ones.” 

          She’s pulled back,  arms raised for a moment before his attention shifts focus and she relaxes.  And that relief only stays for a brief moment before her panic begins anew at the sight of him gathering the sheets of paper she had accidentally strewn across the ground.  Bernadetta scrambles to her feet,  and she reaches out to try and snatch one from his hands before he can see the subjects of her sketches accumulated throughout the day,   “  No,  wait---!   These really aren’t interesting,  you don’t need to---  “

          Her stomach drops as he examines them,  and her hand falls uselessly to her side.  She considers,  if only for a moment,  praying to the Goddess for some divine intervention if only so she doesn’t have to face the embarrassment of Felix going through her drawings,  but since when has She ever answered prayer.  There’s a touch of surprise that registers when he doesn’t get mad,  maybe it had been an internal exaggeration,  but she really thought she might just be struck down here and now.

          “  Your... arms?  “   She fidgets as she waits for him to give the papers back,  and when he pieces out sheets to keep to himself,  she’s quick to take what he’s offered,  but not without protest.   “  What do you mean you’re keeping those ones?!  They’re not even that good!  You might as well just burn them all,  that’s all they’re good for!  “

[bravarley-blog]

edgecfdawn‌:

☀️ — Perhaps he doesn’t hear her cry for help the first time, BUT HE DOES THE SECOND. 

A glance back, azure eyes snapped wide, seeing the BLOOD of his student pool in the grass, an axe’s jagged edge buried in her. Pupils dilate - TIME YIELDS TO HIM, a shatter of stars, a radiant feeling in his chest too ancient and powerful to describe. His hand is moving, fingers twitching, the seconds roll back. He would normally contemplate, if only briefly, the resonance of this power, but he is hardly thinking of it now. Instead he is instinctual, a burning ferocity behind eyes that so often revealed nothing. A RUSH of wind, and time resumes. 

And he hears the barely audible cry, sees a curled form of purple and gold. But this time he’s there, not even bothering with the sword, an axe’s blade COLLIDING with his hand. His feet skid slight before locking, his fingers taut, warm blood flowing down his palm. He doesn’t even hear the bandit’s surprised exclamation, as he’s already tearing the axe out of his hands, wielding it only long enough to BURY it in his chest, letting go, the weight dropping to the ground with an uplift of dust. 

He looks to Bernadetta, his breath hitched - divine power catches up with him, an ACHING in his chest not just from it but the IMAGE he had seen. She is safe, but she wasn’t. He failed her, then he didn’t. This turmoil rages in him but he lets it all out in a single, calm breath. His pupils have slowly returned to normal. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he recalls the sword he’d dropped in his rush to save her, picking it back up, the ache GROANING but he ignores it. “Stay behind me. There are more of them.” 

@bravarley // continued from [ x ] 

          Eyes widen at the sight of blood,  dripping from the professor’s hand.  She’d only glimpsed the way the axe had cut into his hand,  and it only heightens her panic,  and weighs her down with guilt.  This was her fault,  all her fault,  if she’d been more careful,  paid more attention,  done anything-----   it’s all she can take not to break into a full on panic on the battlefield.  Now’s not the time for it,  and she thinks she’s been enough of a burden.

          When she gets to her feet she stands on shaky legs,  and she must not look like much of a soldier visibly trembling like this.  Bernadetta never thought she was cut out for a fight,  and this only serves as a screaming reminder.  She tightens her hold on the lance beneath her grasp.  It’s not ideal,  her understanding of how to use one is as basic as it could possibly get,  but it’s far better than the alternative of being unarmed right now.

          “  Your----  your hand---  professor,  are you okay?!  “   She sounds like she’s about to cry,  and she has to bite it back unless she wants tears blurring her vision on top of everything that’s already happened.  “  R-Right,  stay behind,  got it!  “   She was already used to that as an archer,  but she feels useless with only a lance to support him.