Corrupt neither the body nor the mind.

"While your words and manners may be coarse at times, you are straight and true in character – – like a good arrow." - Oswin, on Hector { Blue Lions Student @ TOA RP }

[peerlessscowl]

A Coat of Red or a Coat of Blue

[peerlessscowl]

Saints above, was he truly hungry again? 

The librarians were, to put it mildly, shocked to see him there – looking quite as intense as he must have in the brute's body, it must have been quite the frightening sight, but between the confusion of the situation, the intense focus of trying to hunt down any text which might have even been passing helpful, and the desperate groan of his belly protesting in hunger – irritating, given that it immediately siphoned his mental energy and drew his focus every which way, and given that he had just eaten. 

One of the nuns came to him, smiling kindly, and presented him with a platter of dry biscuits - "To tide you over," she said, "until next mealtime," - but it was not quite the meal his belly seemed to be expecting at this time. 

He cleared his throat at her turning back, finding himself unable to make quite as much sense of the words before him as he needed them to make; "Ah...if you don't mind..." 

"Need some help, do you?" It was a tease, no matter how mildly pressed, and her eyes twinkled with mirth as she approached. "That's quite an advanced magical tome you have there, I'm not surprised – oh, I mean...simply that..." 

Raven's shoulders stiffened, and not for the first time he flooded with several strange, foreign sensations – the size of his body taking up more of the seat, pressing more firmly against the table, the breadth of his shoulders tightening further into the space; and, further, the odd sense that he himself was being pressed, or teased. She wasn't speaking to him, to the student she might have known as Raymond, once of Cornwell – she was speaking to Hector of Ostia, by all accounts an unfamiliar face, and nevertheless it rankled. 

He sucked in a breath, and forced himself to smile in a way he hoped was self-conscious. If it seemed stiff on the whelp's face, the nun must have brushed it off as discomfort, for she smiled at him. "Ah, yes, you see I...this isn't a subject I normally pursue it's just..." 

"Ah, say no more, young lordling." Her smile warmed, and the twinkle in her eye brightened. "Young men of your ilk have done crazier things for a young lady. We do have some talented mages here, are you trying to impress someone?" 

The suggestion gobsmacked him so much he could not have accounted for how much time passed before he simply said, "...Ah...yes..." 

[braveryinblue]

He didn’t need a snack, it turned out. After assuring a few concerned and curious parties, Hector turned on his heels anew, again determined to make for the center of knowledge: ye olde library.

It wasn’t like he was a complete stranger to the place by any means, but it definitely wasn’t his favourite haunt, not by any stretch of the imagination. If he’d a book to grab, he’d take it and leave - its walls felt constraining about him, and reading outside was much more peaceful, the library’s ordained quiet and whispers never having sat well with the man.

That said, it was a little annoying, albeit not exactly surprising, not to see garner the same glances of shock upon his visiting the place in a body not his own.

(Maybe his was a scarcer presence than he'd imagined. Whoops.)

Right. No matter. Now that he'd arrived, he could put all that aside and focus on... what, exactly? Whereabouts did one even start to look for information on such a strange occurrence as this? Gritting teeth, Hector decided on a random aisle and nearly missed his step overcompensating not to bump into the wall of books. He really needn't have, with a frame this lithe compared to what he was used to.

It'd take more time to get used to this,

and as enlightening as the experience had proven thus far, Hector couldn't say he cared for the thought.

Pulling out a book on 'Theories of Glamour and Subterfuge,' Hector flipped a few pages open before deciding it wasn't the right one for him and going to place it back -- pausing when, suddenly, he caught a familiar flash of blue and a voice that he thought sounded. Vaguely. Maybe like. His?

(Did he, really and truly, sound like that...?)

More importantly though, what in the hells was this man saying with Hector's voice in Hector's body?

About the same time as came Raven's tentative 'yes', Hector burst onto the scene with an emphatic "No!!" Hands slammed onto the table. "He is. Not."

The nun stared hard. Right. 'Quiet.'

The nun smiled. Then hid her smile behind her hand. Ah?

"Oh! I said 'for a young lady' but perhaps," she looked between the two, pointedly, "I should have said 'for a young man' instead, I see."

Had Lord Raymond ever learned just how deeply he could blush?

Today, Raven would.

[sunncutter]

it's nothing to be ashamed of if you fell in the water

[sunncutter]

Who doesn’t love learning about epic battles of yore from various other continents? But everybody knows that sitting around reading dusty history books is dull; instead, you are being made to reenact your assigned battle yourselves in a show-and-tell to the rest of the class. The seminar leader has even provided a dress-up box to aid you in your endeavors. [Grants Heavy Armor +1]  (starter for @braveryinblue)

Once she got her feet under her, Lyn found that she truly didn't mind the work of teacher's assistant. There were those teachers that were more difficult to work under, and some that were easier, and occasionally she felt the draw of being asked to assist in another class. There was a strong current of competitiveness amongst all houses, but especially amongst those in the Blue Lions – she'd no stake in these countries or their futures, but the riled up spirit certainly made the lines blurrier when it came time to lend a hand. 

If the assignment was to reenact a historical battle – well. She supposed she had seen her fair share of battles, and she and her friends had made their share of history, hadn't they? All the better when she sought out a familiar gaze as the Blue Lions class broke to discuss, chattering with possibility. 

She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the costume chest as soon as it opened, with spangled and stiff cloaks and unbreathing tunics being waved about. "Could you imagine fighting a real battle in something like that? Even these uniforms they have you wearing seem so...constraining. Worse than your heavy riding armor by far." 

At least that had served some purpose, and she had seen firsthand, but some of these shining bits and bobs... 

She shook her head. "I suppose it's no matter, if it's just a mimicry of battle. And these Fodlaners...their techniques would have been different than the like we've seen, isn't it? This House, it's founded on a country of knights, right? Would have been harder for an army like that in Sonia's Water Temple. Even you struggled, and you weren't mounted or anything." 

[braveryinblue]

“What’s wrong with my heavy riding armour?”

This said, Hector’s reached something of an agreement concerning the contents of the chest: at the very least, there wasn’t much in there that was going to fit him, of all people. “The uniforms ain’t so bad once you get used to ‘em. Of course, a little tailoring never hurt things.” The privilege of the wealthy, or the skilled. “Not every garment out there can be as free flowing as what you Sacaens prefer, you know.”

With an amused roll of his eyes, Hector pushed aside more material, and dug deeper into the chest. Aha.

“Heh. Lyn, look here.”

Unto her head went a tiara, placed rather unceremoniously, at that.

“Just perfect for you.” If she punched him for it, it would be well warranted, though it would simultaneously only serve to widen his grin.

In all seriousness, though,

“Yeah, Fodlan’s got some techniques of note. Their chess and war games tend to play out differently than we’re used to. Even between the Empire, the kingdom, and the alliance, there are differences enough to make up books’ worth of study.”

(Shush. He can and does read now and again, even beyond what class expects. He’s not a complete lost cause.)

“Hmm…”

The Water Temple.

Yeah, Faerghus’s knights might struggle with a place like that.

But as for Hector…

Turning up his nose, he scowled.

“I don’t recall 'struggling,' as you put it. What’s a little water, anyway? None were quite spared those annoying bridges save our flying units, if you’ll recall-” -correctly, that is.

[serraic]

The Only Person Allowed to Talk That Way to Him is Me!

Authority +1

[serraic]

@braveryinblue

It’s time to put all of your recent building experience to work toward a tried and true marvel in engineering: bridges, intended to connect all of the various islands in the archipelago. This job is a perfect workout for those itching to use their muscles, as there are tons of metal and wood to lug about. The supervisors in charge of the project, however, are a bit demanding. They drive you hard and have even begun prohibiting breaks! Will you write a formal complaint to the eccentric owner of these isles, or will you perhaps instead take matters into your own hands? [Grants Authority +1]

When Serra was pitched the idea of coming along with the other clerics and monks to a beautiful island, she hadn’t imagined it so, well... work... -y... There were huge logs of wood that needed moving, here-or-there, metal that needed to be set, bridges that needed to be built. But she was just a delicate little cleric! How could she help with any of that? So, she didn’t — she sat in the shade and sipped on a waterskin, expression sour.

Her only experience with the surf and sand had been the Dread Isle, but she always heard it was meant to be fun, and exciting. And it was much warmer here, anyhow, than it was back at the monastery, horrible weather it was this time of year. She’s got her chin pressed into the palm of her hand, almost sleepy in her boredom, when she spots— she spots—

She jumps up to her feet, light in her eyes. “Hey! Hector! Hector, it’s— Hector!”

He seems not to quite hear her. That is, till she bounds to his side.

Triumphantly, proudly, arms stretched out and basking in the sun, “I’m back!”

[braveryinblue]

This kind of training’s just the ticket, really. That it counts toward his course load is all the better - Hector would rather roam about a beach than sit in a stuffy ol’ classroom, any day of the week. Heavy logs? No problem. Dragging metal? Sure, whatever. He could follow direction just fine as well, thanks much. These bridges and tracks (?) were going to get built, no problem.

Even when there’s a curious buzzing in his ears, Hector’s all right to keep going, pausing only to wipe at the sweat on his forehead with the back of a forearm. Warm out, today. It’s strange despite the time of year, but then he supposes different climates afford different weather and other such technical science stuff he’s never cared to learn beyond their practical use in plotting combat.

On he goes, then.

… Is it just him, or is that buzzing suddenly louder?

…

Oh.

“You’re… back.” So soon, at that.

(All right, that’s not very generous of him. His gut instinct is still to wonder what the little cleric will want of him this time, but he reminds himself: he need not worry. She’s found excellent, gainful employ someplace that isn’t House Ostia now. And. That’s. Fine, really.

Just fine.)

“Serra. Good to see you.” To his credit, it’s not forced any. (He’s half surprised, but you know? Maybe she’s grown on him after all, in the end. And what with the business which took her home in the first place. . .) “Are you enjoying the islan-”

“Who said you could take a break!?”

The shriek, shrill and demanding, gives Hector a start before he whirls to see who might’ve dared. The woman holds to her chest some strange board, parchment clipped to it and all, and reminds Hector with that stern, horribly severe mug of hers, of an old teacher of his.

He’d never bothered much with attending that particular class.

He opens his mouth to reply, but the shrew beats him to it:

“Get back to work!!”

[braveryinblue]

It wasn't out of awkwardness that she didn't approach him immediately.

It wasn't!

But how could she tease him in a place like this? He had come here to learn, to develop into the best ruler he could be, not just for his own people but for hers as well - it was respectable, it was dutiful, and it was something that he could surely be proud of.

But when she saw him in the training yard alongside others of his class, she couldn't help but stifle a laugh - that same swing, after all this time!

"Tell me," she called, teasing, the warmth of her smile dawning across her face, creasing at the corners of her eyes as she finally approached, "do they teach all foreign rulers to have such sloppy footwork?"

Her boots crunched against the gravel of the training area, sounding much louder in her ears the closer she got - everything seemed so sharp now, and she could see the familiar planes of his face, that stubborn set of his shoulders, and the air shifted just a bit and Lyn felt a weight lifting from her chest as surely as if he'd reached in and plucked it with his own hand.

"Come on then, Hector - " her hand found the hilt of her blade, and she dropped into a ready stance, "why don't you show me what you've learned, and I'll show you in kind?"

I've missed you.

His concentration was absolute. Perfect. Unbreakable. Ironclad. Shatterproof until the very moment it shattered into a million pieces, his swing falling wide and by no slim margin at that.

The one to blame?

None other than Hector himself, of course Lyn!!!

The one and only Lyn herself!!

The, uh,

“… Lyn…!!?”

Grunting, the marquess picks himself (and his axe) up. Brow furrows, and that, too, ought be a familiar look to an old friend. It’s clear he’s deciding which vicious (albeit teasing) remark to sling back her way after being reunited in such a manner. The trouble, of course, is there are far too many to choose from, and, ahem, well, he’s got a right to be picky what with how she’s shown up and interrupted so unexpectedly, and, ah, you know—-

She preemptively shuts him up in the best of ways. In the only way that counts, really. Instead of a frown, Hector wears a grin, and instead of embarrassment, he stands tall, ready, inviting, and daunting as ever. Axe swings down, held level with Lyn’s own blade.

“Come, and you’ll see about that footwork you were admiring just now.”

I’ve missed you, too.

[braveryinblue]

"Huey!" She yells as loud as she could muster. Where could he have gone? They had been pals for years, so to run away is unfathomable. Maybe he went to go stretch his wings?

Florina patrols campus grounds searching high and low for the giant creature. Some flying instructor (to be) she was. No wonder they didn't give her the job, can't even keep track of her own.

It isn't until she rounds the corner does she finally find him. With her hands on her hips, she clicks her teeth teasingly but relieved to have found him.

"There you are, Huey! I had thought you might have gone and found yourself a pretty mare to," she approaches him with a smile before she sees just what might have truly grabbed his attention. She knows him, and she's certain that her pegasus knows him as well.

"L-Lord Hector...! Um..." She glances between her pegasus and the man before delivering a delayed bow. "W-What are you doing here?"

This bloody guy again.

Hector’s had just about enough of him.

“Today,” he growls, lowering himself, tense and ready to pounce, fingers wriggling in anticipation of the wrestling to be had, “it’s you or me, buddy.”

Of course, he’d recognize this particular pegasus anywhere - even by hoofprint, if need be. But as Hector readies to spring forward, he comes to a jarring halt, stopped in his tracks by a voice equally as familiar.

He straightens at once. Scratches sheepishly at the nape of his neck.

“Um. Nothing untoward. I swear it.”

…

But that doesn’t mean Huey is getting away with his many offenses scott-free, either. No. Hector’s going to…

Tattle.

“Florina! What is it about you and your sister’s horses that both have got the devil in them, huh??”

[cursedbluebird]

This Night Is Sparkling

[cursedbluebird]

Hector offers her an arm, ever the gentleman, and she links her own around it and follows him to the food stand. She doesn’t pay attention as he orders, too focused on scanning over the crowd. There were so many people. Her stomach churned and her shoulders raised to her ears as the crowd grew around them.

She could feel herself fighting against the panic, the way her lungs tightened and she struggled not to breathe too quickly. Short, shallow breaths were all she could manage until Hector guided her to an open space.

As the crowd around them thinned, she began to relax. Her breathing evened and her shoulders dropped. It was quiet, like the cathedral was.

“Thank you.” She said softly, taking her spiral of potatoes from him. The candlelights that flickered about cast a warm glow to match the sweet incense that filled the cushioned area. With the peace came a growing sense of guilt. Was she keeping him from the festival? Perhaps she should have just swallowed her fears. She should have just allowed herself to get lost in the crowd to free Hector from her shackles.

She stared at her cooling potato spiral, a memory sparking. It wasn’t too long after she had first come into Margrave Edmund’s care. She couldn’t bring herself to eat anything at first, too consumed by grief and guilt. He had tried everything, every meal he could think of to get her to eat. They were sitting at the table, she hadn’t even picked up her fork and knife. Please for my sake eat something… Margrave Edmund had begged, looking haggard and haunted. She managed to eat a few bites of the potatoes that were on her plate that night.

Marianne took a bite of her potato spiral, if only to keep Hector from fretting over her more. “If you wish to enjoy the festival please don’t let me hold you back.” She met his eye as she spoke. “I know I’m not the best company to keep…” Her gaze fell amongst the others that had taken sanctuary in the quiet spot away from the crowds, mostly other couples that seemed to be in their own little worlds. “I-“ As she turned back to him, she knocked over one of the candles, her eyes widening as the flame kissed the cushions they were resting upon. “Oh no!” She leapt to her feet, covering her mouth in horror. The potato spiral fell forgotten to the ground.

[braveryinblue]

Marianne seemed a delicate creature when she clung to him so,

and Hector wasn't sure what to do about it. Even as she eventually came to relax, many a thought crossed the Ostian's mind: what drove one to be so fearful of crowds? To take on the bearing of prey amidst a throng of hungry predators? ... And was he, himself, not perhaps contributing to this anxiety, loud, bumbling lout that he was?

This he pondered as they delved further into the square.

What bothered him the most, quite possibly, was the fact he would likely never come to understand it. A lack of understanding, of course, did not preclude acceptance or sympathy, but even still...

...

Blue eyes glinted with steel, brows furrowing as Marianne came at him with some strange manner of not-quite-apology. That, at the very least, he knew he could not accept.

"Hey now, listen here, would you-"

-his next words died on his tongue in favour of action.

(Just what kind of kindling were these cushions made of that they ignited like sawdust on a hot day?!)

Jacket flew from his back, and Hector set about smothering the flames before they could spread much further. A brief panic had set about the plaza, just time enough for folks to realize the incident was over and they could go back to. Hanging out with their friends, or... whatever it was they were doing out here together.

(Only now was Hector starting to get something of an inkling, but the realization was long gone before ever managing to surface. For he had other priorities, you see.)

He whirled on Marianne, a steadying hand on her shoulder - his expression spoke primarily of concern, but also: it read quite clearly that he'd not forgotten the conversation of moments ago.

"First of all: are you all right?"

Stepping back a foot, he quickly scanned for signs of injury. Hmn.

"Second of all: must you be so harsh to yourself? You're fine company. Don't worry about me; if I were not enjoying myself, I'd not be here. Simple as that."

... Eyes flicked down, to the ground, before blue again levelled on brown.

"Uhhh... Third of all... Are you by chance, err, still hungry?"

Because Hector sure was, and it'd be a spot less awkward to stop for more if he wasn't the only one eating, y'know?

[peerlessscowl]

Achilles at the Gates

[braveryinblue]

He wasn't listening.

Of course his apologies wouldn't bring back the dead. This, Hector knew full well better than many.

A young boy's tearful apologies hadn't brought his parents back. A young man's silent apologies hadn't brought his brother back.

Their foe had been less tangible, however. Hector couldn't harbour much of a grudge against time and disease, now could he?

"No. The responsible are still out there," he growled, thinking back to the council sitting back home twiddling their thumbs. Uther had never, ever moved alone. This was not an excuse, no. The man had never been perfect, just as Hector, the marquess, also never would be.

But Hector was not interested in inheriting the dues of those yet alive.

Muscles tensed as Raven tore forward - good. Let him drown in his fury. "'I carry his debt,' you say..." Stance dropped, wrist twitched, and Hector met the charge with a furious swing of his own.

Despite himself, it was with the back end of his weapon that he sliced. 'He wasn't taking this seriously,' Hector could hear already, in Uther's stern voice. This man was out to kill him, after all.

Hector scowled. "For all that I loved him..."

Teeth grit. He swung again. Cleaved again. The sword was fast, but to hells with that-- Hector would simply have to persist for as long as it took for one simple fact to sink into this daft bastard's head.

"I am not my brother."

[peerlessscowl]

The responsible are still out there... 

It almost didn't matter if it was a lie, and even this he could not have said with certainty – the smallest seed of doubt had found root, the words sinking into him as a grain of sand in the joint, grinding and eroding at his confidence such that his steps stuttered, his swing softened, slowed and -  

OOF - ! 

The poll of the whelp's axe glanced him at the points of his lowest ribs, and though the strike in any other circumstance would have at the very least been crippling, it did not escape him that Hector had turned the blade away from him, had been fighting defensively this entire time. It could not, in truth, have merely been that Raven was too skilled a fighter to allow him the chance to recover – he knew the extent of his abilities, and was not prone to exaggeration, even in downplaying his greatest foe's skill – but that an Ostian was choosing to fight defensively. 

Was it, then, that the whelp was not so stupid, that he was deliberately keeping him at bay for long enough to... 

To what? 

Sucking in his breath through great, wheezing gasps, Raven took a few steps back, heavier and clumsier than the usual fleet-footed skip he preferred to use in retreat. He resisted the urge to crumple and vomit, and grit his teeth, considering his position through narrowed eyes. 

A flurry of insults rose in his throat – familiar calls to doubt, the skepticism and antagonism that he held so close to his heart, that instinctive lashing out that came from his certainty in his paranoia, from being the eye of a storm that any other might have termed a conspiracy – but he swallowed those along with his nausea. 

Was it paranoia if it was true? Was it a conspiracy if its events confirmed by a first-hand source...? 

"It must be so easy for you to lie," he ground out, finally, circling back through the foliage to regain his bearings. "To think that I can be so used – for what? To take care of some bureaucrats for you? The other members of the league aren't enough to consolidate power, you need rid of your own internal cabinet?" 

The words shivered, as any other, with his rage – but the doubt was there, fervor slowed. For the moment.

[braveryinblue]

"Ha, no. I don't intend for you, nor anyone else, to do my dirty work for me."

Marquess in nearly name only until his return from Fodlan, Hector held no delusions he'd be seeing to working at home before ever looking without.

"There's this saying Ostia's long held close to heart: Corrupt neither the body nor the mind."

He huffed.

Hector had long doubted if the latter held true, but it had never quite felt his problem to tackle, not unless he was brought face to face with it himself over the course of his many escapades - in which case brute force typically worked well enough for his needs.

Uther could handle the rest.

"I take it you've some opinion on that, huh?"

He stood ready, aware that provoking his opponent might not be the wisest play here - but really, who would think wisdom a boon of Hector's anyway?

No. He was much better suited to hashing things out head-on, and that's exactly what he planned to do here and now.

"Let's have it, then."

[roysourblog]

danger is real. fear is a choice

mission

[roysourblog]

@braveryinblue !!

As the future Marquess, he can’t exactly afford anyone to know of his weaknesses. After all, he and his father were both called to wars; and according to Merlinus (as well as his own opinion), a leader shouldn’t have any largely known weaknesses. Truly, it was a wonder how his father was able to get around on horseback, for fear of any stray halberd doing him in. Fears, of course, must not be revealed lightly.

But oh, if just for a moment, it would be nice to be entirely sure in himself. To know that his judgment did not hold the flaws he feared, to be as certain in his abilities as his subordinates believed them to be.

He approached the man steadily, continuing to weigh his choice with every step. Regardless of his certainty, darn his boots, he arrived, and the man looked down at him with curious eyes. Not too prying, but curious nonetheless.

“My only fear,” Roy starts, “Is failing to always believe in myself. I’ve been leading an army for the past year and a half, and everyone believes in me wholeheartedly. They’ve followed me, trusted me with their lives, through the whitest snowstorms and the blackest darkness. But, I don’t understand the faith they placed in me, and I’m scared that one day they’ll find that their faith was ultimately misguided.”

The man behind the booth merely observed him. He stood as a statue behind the counter. Roy shuffled his feet nervously.

“Can you help me let go of this fear? Being afraid of one day finding myself having not been good enough?”

Just as he finishes his request, the man instead looks above him. Roy turns on instinct, finding himself staring into the large chest of an equally large man.

His shadow looms over Roy, and he backs up to get a good view of the man. “Woah, you look just like…”

[braveryinblue]

"Like whom?"

Brow knits in consternation. It (surprisingly enough) isn't the first Hector’s been likened to another, and so he can but presume it won't be the last. More importantly:

"You've an oddly familiar bearing yourself."

He can't quite place it, however.But that is neither here nor there.

"So then, Almighty Mystic, share with us your words of counsel, hm? What is a man to do to prove himself worthy of his people's faith?"

Hector may not have heard the entirety of the redhead's confession to the supposed guru, but he's heard enough. He bristles, arms coming to cross over burly chest in a clearcut statement:

the 'guru' had best choose his words wisely.

... And yet, despite Hector himself being curious as to the answer - for, ahem, no particular reason - he cannot help but frown all the more.

"... Hey, kid," ignore that the 'kid' in question scarce looks much younger than Hector himself, "you really think this guy's gonna fix your fears?"

[peerlessscowl]

A Coat of Red or a Coat of Blue

[peerlessscowl]

The mess hall, it seemed, was prepared for him. And the whelp's body requited the feeling tenfold – Raven was used to eating what he needed, and he was used to forgoing if that was what was in the cards for him, but this body did not merely crave sustenance so much as it screamed for it. He took the tray with gently trembling fingers, and from the scattering of gathered students, it seemed his hunger shone on his face with a frown that bordered on terrifying. 

Only until he seated himself and began to eat, and flocks of the brute's friends once more buzzed about, clapping him on the shoulder. 

"What, only on thirds, are you? With that empty plate?" 

"Watching your girlish figure, are you Hec? Need to trim your waistline if you're to find a match!" 

"Between you and that other guy, we'll have to start rationing soon Ostia!" 

He grunted at the jostling, but by and large the comments seemed without teeth – and, indeed, were not even directed at him, merely at the vessel he piloted for the time being. It was harder than he expected, simply existing in the shell of Hector of Ostia without coming to identify with him, at least in the temporary sense. It was not the same as mistaken identity, nor of sympathy – it was truly being him, and in spite of the vitriol that spit acid with every thought, he found himself rising hackles on the other man's behalf. 

He needed to get out of this. Raven wasn't aware of any precedent for this sort of situation, but if he was being affected so staunchly and so quickly, then it was only a matter of time before true damage was done to his psyche, and he lost himself completely. 

The library. There must be some record there of transference... 

[braveryinblue]

Training was nice.

There was something about facing the same blokes you tangled with now and again, but seeing them from a new perspective, getting to compare the ways they fought a different You... Absolutely priceless.

Couldn't say the same for this guy's stamina, however.

Not that Hector had ever noticed him come across sluggish by any means, but there was a tightness in his chest at present, a faint and lingering dizziness he was yet unaccustomed to. It had been there earlier, by his reckoning, albeit not so exacerbated as it felt now after getting a good workout in. He felt... clammy, if he had to put a word to it, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Did Raymond deal with this on the regular, or was this merely Hector catching him on a bad day? Was this a cold or maybe the flu?? He wouldn't know. He couldn't remember the last he'd taken ill.

Training partners saying their goodbyes and parting ways, Hector eventually ambled out of the training grounds, only to give pause anew:

... where to now, then?

He was put in mind of his present dilemma, brushed aside momentarily in favour of going about his day.

Right.

He would not mind getting his own body back, come to think of it.

Where, here on the premises of a prestigious academy, might he be best served to seek information? A magic prof? An alchemist back at the market? The library, perhaps?

Ah, yes! That might do.

Toooo the library!

When Hector comes to, he finds himself once more in the dining hall, again sat before a plate. A post-training grounds ritual he'd automatically followed: the procurement of a snack.

"Ah, blast it-!"

Of the stragglers yet milling about the area, one or two took note of the redhead's return, whispers of curiosity following after him. At the exclamation, they'd jumped and skittered away.

He wasn't even really hungry, was the thing.

[making-dough]

Horsing Around - Farina & Hector

from here

[making-dough]

♠ - Well, she was glad they'd had that settled. If that burly Ostian was seriously mistaking her for her little sister, well, uh, she was gonna have to advise that he go get himself some glasses because, damn, was he needing them. Which would make for a pretty funny image but not one she cared to say out loud.

It didn't really suit him, anyway. That aside, she had to address his next question - that of her job as Ilian mercenary. To which she had the simple answer of "Well, do all your knights know how to forge their own armour from scratch?", she asked, waving a hand at the burly Ostian. Ostia, of course, being the home of their famed armour knights. "It's a similar thing. I might be able to handle grown-up pegasi but this is...kinda my first time handlin' 'em when they're this little. That's more a pegsus handler's thing."

Speaking of handling pegasi, these little ones were starting to become a handful, fighting over bits of carrots and chewing on her boots. Well, there was little else she could do here. Reaching a hand up to her collar, she once again pulled out her whistle and blew on it hard. Once again, the little pegasi around her leapt up, neighed in pain and bolted in all directions, seeking to escape the piercing sound.

Well, at least they were no longer hanging all over her and him, even if they were both left rather covered in pegasus spit. Which left one final awkward task... "Ehhh, wanna go try rounding them up, big guy?", Farina chuckled, turning towards Hector with a nervous grin. This would have been so much easier if they were still all over them. Oh, well. At minimum, baby pegasi needs their naptimes...

[braveryinblue]

"Huh? Uh... No? I guess not."

He could see her point, sort of. Maybe knowing how to care for tiny pegasi could be likened to knowing how to make your own armour from scratch, much in the same manner that a grown Ostian knight ought to know how to take care of his armour (or else), and a Pegasus Knight from Ilia ought to know, at the least, how to care for their partner once grown.

It made sense in an odd, roundabout sort of way.

Though he wasn't really sure what the difference was between these needy, bitey little guys and say, Huey or Murphy...

"Say what?"

Round them up?

"What'd ya have to go and scare 'em off for then?"

Not that he'd been enjoying their nibbling at his slacks but, but... still!

That wasn't the principle of the matter!

"Ugh... Fine, I guess! Gimme a carrot or something though."

Armed with a vegetable and a smattering of hubris, Hector bravely ventured forth, clucking his tongue in hopes of tempting the lil guys back into the open.

He really should have expected they'd be back with a vengeance.

As it stood, as though they had conspired together, all of the young pegasi charged the Ostian the moment he stepped away from the scary lady with the loud whistle. Or mauled, more like. They grabbed his pant legs, his sleeves, anything they could!

Hector yelped in surprise, completing the picture perfect portrait of hilarity and haplessness.

"Gahhhh! Get them offa me Farinaaaa!!"

Before they dragged him to his grave, preferably...!

[peerlessscowl]

Achilles at the Gates

[peerlessscowl]

It gave him a bright thrill to see his quarry retreat, to back down from the force of his onslaught – a blossom of addictive warmth, the rush of pursuit baring dripping fangs from a grimace that was as much smile as scream. 

"Hiding, are you?" he murmured softly, drowned out by the beating of Beathe's wings and the pounding of blood in his ears. He could see why finding cover in the forest was the attractive option – he'd had done the same against a mounted opponent, of any variety, let alone airborne. All of the advantages that Beathe gave him were for naught if he could not manoeuvre as well as a plated idiot on his own two feet. 

The vantage allowed him to spot the whelp, though. It did grant him that, even as he guided Beathe to hover a few feet from the ground, dropping into a quiet crouch to slink into the woods to follow. 

He would not allow it to be said that he needed flight to fight, and he suspected he was a good deal more at home in the woods than this lout. 

"Apologize?" He hissed, the wind carrying his words in a rattle through the leaves as he circled. "You think your apologies will bring them back? Do you stand at a grave and decorate it with words, then, idiot?" 

He watched through narrowed eyes as Hector revealed himself, spread his arms and offered himself like a steer for slaughter – there was the rational part of his brain that understood it was a feint, because it was an obvious one. 

But then that word perpetrator hit his ears, and the rush of blood roared high in his mind once again, drowning his sight in a coat of pulsing, steaming red. Raven was scarcely aware of moving, but the hammer had dropped from his grip, and his hand reached for the more comfortable hilt of his sword in the close press of tress as he charged forward, blind and furious. 

"The responsible?" His voice came from him in a shrill tone that he couldn't say he had ever remembered himself using, but he knew instantly that it had come from him due to the raw streaks it left in his throat. "The responsible rattled his last pathetic breath in his comfortable bed in a castle – you carry his debt, in the same way that you carry his blood. Do you think playing dumb will wash these stains out? You child - !" 

[braveryinblue]

He wasn't listening.

Of course his apologies wouldn't bring back the dead. This, Hector knew full well better than many.

A young boy's tearful apologies hadn't brought his parents back. A young man's silent apologies hadn't brought his brother back.

Their foe had been less tangible, however. Hector couldn't harbour much of a grudge against time and disease, now could he?

"No. The responsible are still out there," he growled, thinking back to the council sitting back home twiddling their thumbs. Uther had never, ever moved alone. This was not an excuse, no. The man had never been perfect, just as Hector, the marquess, also never would be.

But Hector was not interested in inheriting the dues of those yet alive.

Muscles tensed as Raven tore forward - good. Let him drown in his fury. "'I carry his debt,' you say..." Stance dropped, wrist twitched, and Hector met the charge with a furious swing of his own.

Despite himself, it was with the back end of his weapon that he sliced. 'He wasn't taking this seriously,' Hector could hear already, in Uther's stern voice. This man was out to kill him, after all.

Hector scowled. "For all that I loved him..."

Teeth grit. He swung again. Cleaved again. The sword was fast, but to hells with that-- Hector would simply have to persist for as long as it took for one simple fact to sink into this daft bastard's head.

"I am not my brother."

[berglietz]

stupid ball i'm fuckin balling

Ethereal Ball 2024 | (meatball fight meatball fight)

[carefreemonk]

He can't say he's surprised, at this point.

A lemon bar sounded just the thing to lift his sodden spirits, but whatever gods up there had been listening -- Azama hadn't meant it like this!!

The dessert slaps against his face.

Ten out of ten points for that one. Great job! A+ and all that. Even the way the bar slips from his face to splat onto the ground is borderline high end theatre, and the shiny trail it leaves behind on his cheek is tasty. At least. Azama guesses it must be some kind of decadent, right? To be offered to him so kindly and freely?

She's lucky he doesn't teach any of her classes.

A quick scan reveals there's clearly some manner of food-related shenanigans underfoot, here and now. He could tell them off. Delude himself into thinking he authority enough to make them stop. Or...

He could continue to make poor decisions.

Thump.

That's the sound he imagines this sweet bun is going to make as it collides with some poor sod or another. He's not feeling particularly picky. He at the least pretends to aim for his would-be foe, but, wherever it winds up... Whatever.

In gods' hands now.

But did you know, @fangedjustice?

Sweet buns always come in threes.

[fangedjustice]

Lloyd had been dutifully ignoring the food fight that had suddenly broken out, as while he was a knight here, this hardly seemed like something that needed that sort of interference. So, he really had no reason to get involved--

Until something sticky collided with the back of his head, that is.

Frowning, he runs a hand through his hair and it comes back with a slightly sweet scent to it. Definitely sticky, though...Urgh. That was going to be a hassle to get out-- Only for another sweet projectile to clock him straight in the nose, nuts, crumbs and dried cranberries scattering across the floor like bizarre shrapnel. Scrubbing a hand over his face in bewilderment, Lloyd tries to identify where these are coming from, and is rewarded with the splat of the third and final sweet bun hitting him square in the chest. It sticks for a moment, splattered whipped cream an explosion of white against his dark shirt, before slowly, stickily sliding and falling off.

Well. Seemed he was to get involved now.

Since it seemed targets were being chosen at random, Lloyd scanned the crowd for a good one -- expression shifting into a strange mix of amusement and intense focus as he found his. With a casual stride, he grabs one of the bowls that had been filled to the brim with mint candies -- dumping them out onto a mostly empty platter of other sweets -- and dips it into the chocolate fountain until it was filled with the tacky sweetness.

Without breaking breaking his stride, Lloyd maneuvers his way through innocent ball-goers before deftly hucking the chocolate slop straight into the face of a certain Ostian lord.

@braveryinblue

[braveryinblue]

All things considered,

tonight had been blessedly uneventful...

...Up until right bloody now.

Hector blinks, wiping away a strip of chocolate from his face. Is. Is that Lloyd Reed?

What in the blazes-

"What is your problem??"

Well. This affront most certainly cannot go unanswered.

(And here he'd nearly dared to think they'd gotten on some. I dunno. Not friendly terms, by any means, but... Maybe they had graduated beyond 'hate on sight' ...? Arghghghgh WHATEVER!!)

grabbing a handful of cobbler - because he is not going to be graceful about this, not for so much as a second - he makes to smoosh, throw, whatever it takes to decorate his foe in staining berry sauce, when a shrill voice of authority rings out:

"HECTOR OF OSTIA. DO NOT THROW THAT PASTRY."

He freezes. Bwuh-huh?

"ACTUALLY, ALL OF YOU CAUSING THIS RUCKUS, YOU'RE COMING WITH ME!"

Uh oh, food fighters!

It's time to make like a banana and split!

(And with that... the grand food fight of this year's Ethereal Ball comes to an anticlimactic conclusion... ...)

(End!)

[braveryinblue]

cleaning is my new fave sport

[braveryinblue]

Every year it’s the same: there is a need for voluntolds– ahem, volunteers– to clean up after the Ethereal Ball has rung its last, and this iteration is no exception. Between food fights and burn marks, there is much to tend to. Worried about being shorthanded, the Church has come up with a fun little game: the more you clean, the more points you rack up! At the end, those with the most points can supposedly look forward to a reward, although… No one really knows what the exact reward in question is supposed to be…

Once an accident, twice a coincidence, three times a pattern.

Someone who undoubtedly fancied themselves clever had spouted this at some point in time, and though Hector didn't care enough to remember their name, the saying had stuck.

Sure, last year's clean-up following the elementals' shenanigans hadn't been quite so eventful as the year prior to it, where the affair had ended with fist connecting to face (sorry Leif), but it had still been same time, same place-y enough to feel like a growing trend was afoot. And here Hector was, a third year in a row, mop and bucket in hand.

The difference being, this year, he had volunteered of his own free will, and also,

he was in it to win it.

1d6: 4 - 3 points (post 1 of 2) 1d2: 1 - safe from theft

There had been quite the spill in this corner, and Hector was determined to claim it for his own, quite nearly growling at a nearby participant come to scope it out.

The person retreated with a squeak, leaving Hector to the space - however, he could not claim to be working at this alone.

"Oi, Ares! How you holdin' up over there!"

As his main rival this eve (long story short: similar drives for competition, and the sparring grounds were closed),

the guy had Better Not Be Slacking.

starter for @lionscion !

[pheraed]

°。 out of 31 matches it's 15 wins for Eliwood, 12 for Hector, and 4 were draws ig

[POST BOEL MINI] - Hector & Eliwood

[pheraed]

Eliwood laughs again, and his smile widens. "I'll hold you to that, you know," he says, and gently fist bumps him in the bicep. Hector might be bigger than him, but Eliwood likes to think he can give him a run for his money.

Sometimes, at least. Maybe. If Eliwood wasn't so attached to wielding the sword, maybe it would be a different story.

"I would have joined the Blue Lions if I'd known that's where you were. I just sort of... picked." The Golden Deer are formed from the Leicester Alliance, and it made the most sense to him. Almost reminded him of how things were back home. "But then again, we wouldn't be able to have this house rivalry, so I guess that's for the better."

The battle was fun, even if he couldn't see Hector in it. It wouldn't have been fair, anyway -- with those as talented as Kagetsu, Knoll, Hilda, and Rosado at his side there was no way Hector would be able to stand up to his team.

( maybe he's being a little too self confident. )

"And I promise for our duel, I won't bring magic. I don't want it to be too easy."

[braveryinblue]

"Hmph. You'd better."

Not that Hector's worried any.

'Eliwood' and 'reliable' go hand in hand, after all.

And it's not like he can fault his friend for following his instincts, either. Not without being a big ol' hypocrite.

"Heh."

Eliwood is right, of course. That their rivalry can continue in this way is...

It's just. Nice. Cozy, even.

"You know perfectly well them's fighting words..." Rolling his shoulder, Hector chuckles darkly. "Bah. Maybe I'll invite you to bring that tome along after all. It's not like I haven't been working on countermeasures all this time. An' never hurts to have a guinea pig on hand."

For all that Hector grumbles, however, it doesn't stop him subconsciously chasing after the familiar touch of a close friend. He's tired. And Eliwood's teasing, relentless as it is, puts him at ease. And so:

quite unceremoniously, Hector leans, leans, leans-- until he lightly thuds against his friend's shoulder and there, he stays, cheerfully heedless of his weight against the other's slighter frame.

"Hold still a minute. I need a nap."

Soon, then.

--end!

[braveryinblue]

The platter of meatballs was for all of the students. This was the intention, but those who were serving the food did not exactly get upset when Eliwood took the entire thing for himself. He did it with such confidence, without asking, and he even said 'excuse me'. In the morning he would no doubt feel less sure of his actions, but for now...

He finds Hector again. It's easy to do so, what with how familiar the two of them are with each other, he knows his movements all too well. In his hands he presents the entire platter as a drunken offering to their friendship.

"This," he declares loudly, boldly, and with a great big smile on his face. "Is for you. We can split it, if you would like that. Come, let's go for a walk."

Hector can but blink, presented a most unexpected gift. An entire tray? When the suckers were borderline 'limited edition' for the eve on account of Fodlan's obsession with that weird spaghetti ritual? Sure, it sounded nice, but...

Wait...

... Had Eliwood stolen him an entire tray?

Hector's Eliwood?? That guy?

? ? ? huh?

Something wasn't adding up here, no matter how generous he knew his friend to be.

"Uhh... Yeah. We can split it. We should split it. I know I'm a big guy, big appetite and all but even I've got my limits, heh."

Before the night was out, Hector would have gotten his fill of the things and then some. Not that he was complaining, mind you. But that sure was. a. lot. of meatballs.

(The temptation to leave them behind to (maybe) come back to existed, at present.)

"A walk sounds good." Rising to his feet, Hector made to nudge his friend in the shoulder before giving pause just a moment before impact - and then miraculously thinking better of it.

"Hey, uh... Bud... You doing quite all right?"

[braveryinblue]

[ Mulled wine ]

"Here." Ultimately, it is a pretense. Mitama is having a day, and she feels she deserves a little unholy indulgence. The bartenders insisted the drinks were meant to be shared, however, and Mitama was not so gluttonous that she needed to down two drinks immediately.

Yet.

She holds one out to Hector. She would not call them friends but...well, it was enough familiarity that she felt comfortable dumping her extras on him. "We can skip the polite pretenses, if you prefer. I am using you as a bit of a dumping ground."

"Mm?"

Hector takes the drink, of course, because he's not completely devoid of manners. (And also: it's a free drink.)

And it comes without much of any pretense, which is perhaps the best part of the whole thing.

"You're talking my language. This whole night's far too much for polite pretenses, if you ask me." He grins. "So, for someone straightforward like this, can't say I mind being a dumping ground." He swishes the drink, raises it for emphasis in a mock cheers. "Anytime, yeah?"

The drink doesn't last long. With a clink as the the glass is set down, Hector leans back in his chair with a chuckle.

"Good to see you," it really has been awhile, hasn't it? "But don't let me keep ya unduly." Head tilts to the side. "Unless you had anything else you needed to rid yourself of?"

[lionscion]

@braveryinblue asked:

[ Dona Dona Fried Set ] - A full-blown meal all on its own, featuring juicy fried chicken, deep-fried cheese with tomato sauce, and a basket of fried potato slices. Every bite you take tastes so good, but feels so bad. // "You know. You remind me of someone I know, but I just can't put my finger on it." It's annoying, but not the end of the world. Hector isn't going to lose sleep over it, at any rate. "Anyway, want some chicken? It's almost addicting." A pause. "You can have my bell thingy too."

With such a huge basket of fat and oil in his hand, Ares could smell the man's approach a mile away, well before he turned a puzzled look his direction.

"Are you sure it's not a misplaced memory from the Training Grounds?" Ares tapped a knuckle beneath his chin, looking over the man one more time. "Between that and the classroom, we're frequent sights at both."

With reality and illusion only recently becoming separate things again, it didn't hurt to retrace memories, but the ones he had were luckily concrete and plentiful, if innocuous. It was a natural consequence of being in the same house, especially when this man had been a student since before Ares arrived.

The fact it took them this long to speak more than two words to each other was simply a norm for somebody like Ares, but he supposed there was no more fitting a time than tonight to try and change that.

"Gladly."

He was talking about the brooch mainly. The title of 'fried food fiend' belonged to a different member of his close circle, but he'd be damned if he got stuck with 'ungrateful'. It was over quickly anyway -- two bites and that drumstick was stripped to the bone. The sheer amount of meat kept it from being one, and for that alone Ares couldn't call it bad meal. Nevermind that it was so generously offered, or that he now had another brooch out of the deal.

Now how to thank him properly…

"Let me know if ever you're looking for a new blade to test your axe against."

[braveryinblue]

Eyes narrowed in consideration of the other's words.

The man spoke a logical truth, Hector decided. Odds were good it really wasn't much of anything beyond such recognition he was feeling, and Ares was right: they were in fact both extremely frequent sights thereabouts, albeit especially at the Training Grounds.

Just one warrior recognizing another then, right?

Eyes gleamed with the spark of a new challenge, the fires of a potential rivalry in the making...

Yes yes YES-

"Oho! That I can answer right this minute: I'm always looking for new blades to temper. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for ya when next we meet at the grounds!"

It probably wouldn't be long til then, if history held true.

A wary pause, then: "No take-backs!"