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@cavalry
# 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖗𝖞. a closed roleplay blog for sylvain gautier of fire emblem: three houses, affiliated with the officer’s academy. as haunted by ven.
( ♡ ) prompts ( ♡ ) headcanons ( ♡ ) drabbles ( ♡ ) dossier ( ♡ ) stats
icon by hakoming_jp ✧ header by dewa ✧ pinned by 116116116EL psd ✧ edits w permission » updated february 2nd
damn little lady
ironically, this month’s mishaps spurred a greater interest in the other countries and continents beyond fódlan, with more and more students eagerly learning what they can about them. the cooking club, with their hands on an ylissean cookbook, is putting out calls for some brave idiot to go and hunt a bear for a ylissean-style roast. [ grants axe +1 ]
when word reaches sylvain of garreg mach opening its doors to the continent of elyos, he wastes little time in volunteering himself to welcome the host of new students. so many pretty faces in need of a guiding hand to hold, the halls of garreg mach must feel both endless and suffocating without someone by your side ... or something like that.
whatever the case, his original imagining of his free-time with one of these pretty faces had significantly less involvement of bears. none at all, in fact. but riding on the back of his horse into the depths of the forest with a girl’s arms wrapped around his waist worked wonders to keep his complaints at bay.
sylvain hadn’t the first clue how to catch and butcher a bear, but she didn’t need to know that. he had briefly skimmed a book in the library on methods of capturing such a beast and things much larger in stature, and it all seemed straight-forward enough. how hard could it be, really?
“ here should do just fine, ” he says, slowing duchess’ stride to a stop beneath a canopy of dense foliage. his tone is as steady and confident as ever: he needs to uphold his earlier promise that he knew what he was doing, after all. sylvain dismounts first, turning his body to his newfound acquaintance and making a grand, sweeping gesture to extend an open palm to offer in helping her down. “ after you, milady. ”
“ careful of your step. but don’t worry, ” he winks. “ you can hold onto me if you fall. i’ll be there to catch you every time. ”
@wyvrne
❥ feb. activity check.
» status : passed. » skill points : activity [ +1 ] » allocation : lance [ +1 ] [ c+ ⇒ c+ ½ ] dark mage class mastered. acquired heartseeker and poison strike. » total points : 14 ⇒ 15
Yes, It is I Lady Lyndis... and Her Loyal Knight Kent?
goldoandragonprince:
When you break the news about the imposter lords to one of the villages, they naturally react in horror and shame for being deceived. However, something goes awry when the message is passed along to the village elders. A miscommunication down the line leads these leaders, half-blind and three-quarters-deaf, to believe that you are the “real Lyndis”. Whether you are or not, there is little you can do to convince them otherwise, and so they demand you make things right. [Grants +1 Authority]
mission board starter for @cavalry
Look, Kurth wanted the villagers to know the truth, that they were being deceived and all that, but he hadn’t expected them to instantly turn their gaze upon him as soon as they had heard the news. Sure, he was technically a king, but he had no idea how to deal with something like this! He only knew vaguely of Lady Lyn, from seeing her around the academy, but he had no idea what she was really like! How could they possibly ever expect him to be her?! And like, he was clearly too short too. Probably. To be fair, he had only ever seen her sitting down and from a distance.
Either way, he racks his brain, trying to think of anything he knew about her. Ladies had knights, right? Or at least ones who weren’t raised in sequestered castles knowing nothing about the world outside. He remembers maybe seeing her once with a ginger knight, though he can’t recall the man’s name, if he had ever known it all. Luckily for Kurth, he has one of those to make the act all that much more convincing. Even if it is Sylvain of all people.
He bows politely before the elder, who is clearly blind enough to not be able to tell that Kurth is not a woman, smiling tightly and putting on the best air of dignity he can manage. He gestures towards Sylvain, as a way of both urging him to come closer and as if he is introducing him. If he was to act as Kurth’s knight, then he couldn’t be standing so far away! A knight always seemed to be by their lord’s side. At least, that was what Kurth assumed it was like. He’d only ever had a bodyguard, Gareth, not a true knight.
“I promise you we will make this right my good sir. I am the Lady Lyndis, and this is Kent, my knight. Just tell us what you wish for us to do and we will happily aide you. I would hate to see you suffering from any harm my imposter caused you.” That had to do the trick! Hopefully…
Now he just had to keep this up for who knew how long.
sylvain hadn’t spoken to lyn before, but had seen her briefly through the halls of the monastery: he knows of her beauty by a firsthand account, but any details of her character were only through brief passing mentions of her name. sylvain now bemoaned his stupidity to have not tried to woo her earlier. then, perhaps, he might’ve been able to give kurth some more useful tips to really sell the act...
well, how hard could it be, really? a lady and her ever devoted knight; he’s read plenty of those fairytales. but he supposes that it’s lucky for them that the elder they were presenting to clearly couldn’t see much beyond their blurry silhouettes, evident by the way he huffs a little bit at kurth’s introduction, brows furrowed and squinting in their direction. sylvain watches on with a wide, unfurled grin in his amusement, taking kurth’s suggestion and inching himself closer to his side.
“ lady lyndis? ” the village elder echoes. ah ... a little hard of hearing, too, it seemed. sylvain nods affirmatively to the question and makes a grand, sweeping gesture to kurth. “ yes, the very same! when we received word of the imposter, we made here as quickly as we could. forgive us for the delay; i will shoulder all responsibility, so long as you treat milady kindly. ”
the village elder begins a slow stride closer towards them, grumbling something to himself as he looks both of them over. “ yes, yes ... and you are? ” goddess. they are going to be here all day. sylvain clears his throat, straightens his posture a little where he stands next to kurth. “ i am kent, accompanying lady lyndis on her-- ”
“ her lover? ” the elder interrupts, prodding both of them with his cane.
“ what? no, ” sylvain begins, then visibly hesitates. his gaze flits over to kurth beside him, as if searching for confirmation, brows drawn together as he considers the question briefly. it’s only a moment of contemplation before sylvain changes his answers, clearing his throat speaking with a newfound confidence: “ ah. i mean. yes! yes, very much so. but milady is quite shy, so we’ve yet to announce anything official ... ”
simple thanks || sylvain & felix
aegisshieded:
The chatter of the students entering the greenhouse grates against Felix’s nerves, making shredded bits of his patience. He internally chastises himself for even feeling that frustration, that impatience, that annoyance. Just how badly was he aching to press his lips against his friend’s own? They were no longer children (Sylvain certainly not so. When had he gotten so tall? Though, Felix supposes he’s always been taller).
Ruminating in his own embarrassment prevents the younger of the two from noticing beforehand Sylvain’s internal turmoil. Felix still does not uncross his arms as he balks at the redhead when the words leave his lips, and it takes several moments for Felix to snap back to reality and give an answer to Sylvain’s proposal before he inevitably self-deprecated himself into a downward spiral.
The rosy hue that paints Felix’s skin blooms anew as he finally gathers that Sylvain was asking to take him out. A part of him wonders if he intends to treat him the same as any other frivolous woman who agrees to spend an afternoon with Sylvain, but the rest of him knows that it would never be the case for Felix. Sylvain always treats Felix differently; that’s why Felix tolerates him. He may tease relentlessly and lie through those plush lips, but he never treats Felix like any other old person. There is too much history and past for them to treat one another like they would anyone else.
They understand one another without even needing to say anything aloud.
And still Felix decides that he ought to say something before Sylvain combusts. Call him benevolent. Call him merciful.
“Fine,” Felix mutters, voice low as he turns his head to peer around the plant they hide behind to see if anyone has spotted them yet. When the coast is seemingly clear, boldness overcomes Felix’s rational senses and he quickly presses his lips to Sylvain’s before he can even appreciate the feel of them and hurries out of the greenhouse. "Come get me from my room before dinnertime,“ he yells loud enough for Sylvain to hear before disappearing out of the greenhouse before he combusts or dies of a heart attack.
sylvain isn’t certain of the reaction he was expecting, but he breathes a soft sigh of relief when felix agrees to his invitation. felix then takes a heartbeat to glance around themselves for any onlookers, to which sylvain perks an eyebrow curiously. before he can even ask what he’s so shy about, felix replies with his answer: the distance between them closes, their mouths pressed together. it’s innocent. chaste and fleeting in a way that makes sylvain’s heart flutter, makes him forget about these months at the monastery, how helpless and alone he felt without felix at his side.
sylvain wilts forward a little as felix pulls away, nearly chasing after his mouth, and instead is left to watch his friend already hurry for the exit of the greenhouse. for a long while he can do nothing except watch, like every synapse in his mind has shorted out to a white static, body heavy and inebriated with the warmth of felix’s kiss. it’s only when felix finally disappears from his line of sight that sylvain can begin to pick up the pieces of himself again. his hand reaches up, thoughtfully tracing the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, still lingering on the ghost of their kiss.
ah ... so it’s a date?
--
it isn’t like sylvain to feel nervous, but there’s no other way to describe the airy feeling in his gut for the hours leading up to dinner together. seems impossible to busy himself with anything else when his mind continues to trail back to felix: wonders if he’s torn up the same way, if he’s just as elated, just as terrified as sylvain is.
regardless of how he feels, sylvain arrives outside felix’s front door just before dinnertime at garreg mach as had been requested of him. though his thoughts are dizzying and his knees feel like they might give out from beneath him at any moment now, he prays that none of this is reflected on his visage. steels himself a little before gently tapping his knuckles against the door to felix’s room.
“ felix? ” he begins, tone steady, confident. “ hope you don’t mind me showing up a little early. couldn’t help myself. but, hey, if you need a few more minutes to get yourself pretty, just let me know. i’m nothing if not patient. ”
cry for alcyone / team ruins finale
nagaficat:
When she and Maria and Chrom had finally caught up to Aphie, she was injured. Deirdre had cast recover then to heal a sprained ankle and gain the trust of the little girl. She will not forget the way Aphie’s eyes sparkled and filled with wonder at the power of her spell.
She had been playing then, too, as she climbed from obstacle to obstacle until she ran into a wall and crashed. Deirdre hopes she will come to her senses in time for her to patch her up again but for now, she must turn her attention and her staff on her allies.
Deirdre heals Randal with Recover! Roll = 13 ; +9HP (Randal: 12/12)
Recover is cast and a warm glow begins to stitch together the wounds Randal has just sustained. “Sir Randal please stay strong,” Deirdre tries to play her part as a healer and supporter and smile reassuringly at him but it is hard. With each attack against one of her teammates or Aphie, it becomes harder and harder to focus on anything other than the unfairness of it all.
She so desperately wants to play with Aphie but violence of this level is no game.
their healer’s aid couldn’t have come any sooner: in one moment, sylvain feels as though he is teetering upon the precipice of death, the oxygen absent in his lungs and trying desperately to cling to consciousness. he thinks he will never get used to the feeling, as if his wounds are being sutured beneath his armor. he would have fought regardless, but it’s nice to be able to breathe again.
“ thanks, ” he casts a glance over his shoulder to cecilia and maria, winking in their direction as he guides duchess to face the amalgamation again. “ i owe you both! ”
the moment that sylvain has gathered enough wits about himself for coherency, he’s already rushing back into danger with his lance drawn, striking down decisively to tear through the amalgation.
sylvain attacks the amalgamation with the lance of ruin (knightkneeler) 1d20: 7 hit! ( -2.5HP ) amalgamation’s HP: 48.5/100
the space where the lance of ruin seems to fracture for a second: then, repairs itself again. sylvain curses underneath his breath when he realizes. is this really what it’s come down to? has their struggle been meaningless?
the amalgamation counter attacks with strength of spirit. 1d20+1: 10 + 1 = 11. hit! ( -2.5HP ) sylvain’s HP: 7.5/10 elenchos activates! 1d20+3: 5 + 3 = 8 miss! sylvain’s HP: 7.5/10
the amalgamation retaliates with a burst of fire and sparks, and that blinding heat overtakes sylvain’s body a second time. it’s less intense than before, doesn’t leave him gasping for air like it had done earlier, and sylvain makes sure not to linger this time.
@ylisseanstar
❥ jan. activity check.
» status : passed. » skill points : activity [ +1 ], knowledge gem [ +1 ] » allocation : riding [ +2 ] [ d ⇒ c ] » acquired : ruins fragment, wyrm winged saddle, vacuum slice [ keras kai elephas 2023 ] » total points : 12 ⇒ 14
cry for alcyone / team ruins finale
ylisseanstar:
They’re safe, he thinks, after their mad dash to the bunker. Despite the injuries sustained during the race to shelter away from the antagonistic machines, Chrom feels as though he can breathe a sigh of relief at the relatively positive outcome. Everyone is here, and the knights they all had meant to retrieve as well. Even if he didn’t do much to help with the escape, well… it could’ve been worse: someone, or multiple people, could’ve died. That they’ve come so far with very few casualties might mean that Naga, and maybe Sothis, must be smiling down at the team, intent on their survival. They’re all going to make it out of the dream—the monastery group, the knights, the survivors, all of them.
Aphie giggles, the sound stretching and distorting, and memories of the other big missions flash in his mind, a gasp leaving his lips as he connects the dots like stars in a constellation.
It’s the end of the month.
He turns, slowly, prolonging his ignorance as best he can, pushing the moment away when he will have to confront the unwelcome reality behind him. But the strange laughter, sizzling with static, continues, and Chrom can only hold off for so long before he has to look at Aphie, has to witness what fell transformation is taking hold of her, has to understand that everyone is not home free yet. Swallowing, he finally rests his gaze upon her—no, them.
No. No, no, not Aphie, not her—please, especially not her, hasn’t she suffered enough?! And the Mechanic, what did he ever do to deserve this?! Isn’t this too cruel?!
He can’t look at the chimeric form before him for very long, averting and closing his eyes in a bid to control his emotions. As heaven and earth begin to rip apart around him, and as his teammates gear themselves up for a fight, the teen holds his tears back and mourns… for the little girl who wanted to play, forever and ever and ever, caught up in the refuge of the dreamscape around them. If they fight her… can they save her? Can they bring her back to a world that is harsh and painful and abundant and beautiful? Where reality is inescapable but so much more satisfying than that which cannot come into existence?
“Okay, Aphie,” he whispers, “I’ll play with you. It’ll be the best game you’ve ever played and the best story you’ve ever heard. And… we’ll have fun, together. I promise.”
Sapphire eyes snap open, blazing, and Chrom shifts his posture to something tall and confident. His heart beats a steady tempo, awaiting his next step. With a floreo and a rond de jambe, he slides into a lively, graceful dance, meant to bolster the spirits of his teammates. Taking note of those who have attacked, as well as their spells and weapons and abilities, the bluenette settles on his choice and twirls towards Kurthnaga, sending wishes of rejuvenation his way. “Professor! Allow me to lend you some cheer!”
Refresh activates! Kurthnaga can take another turn!
Are you watching, Aphie? Do you like my dancing? Is it something you’d like to see again when we’re out of here?
@cavalry
the underground bunker seems to only provide sanctuary for a moment, as they are helpless to watch the amalgamation fuse together in a desperate attempt to keep them there. this isn’t quite the betrayal that sylvain had been expecting. sylvain has known plenty of sheep who have turned out to be wolves, so he can’t be surprised when he gets bit. this hurts worse, somehow. the grief that wracks his teammates is evident enough: he can see it in their expressions when he glances to them, can tell that there isn’t room here for his own sorrow.
he bites the inside of his cheek to keep his expression neutral, impassive to the scene that plays before him. the grip around the lance of ruin tightens until his knuckles are white. the dream calls for sylvain’s horse, duchess, and he doesn’t waste a moment before he’s climbing atop of her, ready to join alongside the others.
despite each blow that his teammates land, aphie’s laughter remains light and bubbly, like windchimes against a cool breeze. the sound is bittersweet.
the longer that sylvain stays idle, the worse his chest aches. when faced with so much doubt and fear, sylvain does the only thing he knows to do: press forward with reckless abandon.
sylvain attacks the amalgamation with the lance of ruin. 1d20-2: 17 - 2 = 15 critical hit! ( -6HP ) aphie’s HP: 63/100.
he and duchess are quick when they rush towards aphie, raising the lance of ruin high in the air before bringing it down sharply, definitively. it drives cleanly through the amalgamation. it’s a blow that normally would have left his opponents reeling. but glancing back, the amalgamation has already seamlessly reformed itself, and only seems to erupt into a fit of even more laughter with sylvain’s attempt on its life, the voices of the mechanic and aphie eerily echoing one another.
the amalgamation counter attacks with strength of spirit. 1d20+2: 17 + 2 = 19. critical hit! ( -9HP ) sylvain’s HP: 1/10 sylvain is inflicted with -6 speed for 3 turns!
in a blinding display of fire and hot light, the amalgamation strikes sylvain before he even has the time to react. whatever impressive strength sylvain may have demonstrated before, aphie and the mechanic return twofold. it burns him through his armor and knocks the breath straight from his lungs: for a second, he can no longer breathe, and in the next heartbeat he’s gasping for air again. duchess cries out at the hit, and the pair retreats back for a moment to gather themselves.
he’s struggling to hold himself upright, but forces what strength he has remaining on keeping himself steady for the moment. there’s a pause here as sylvain recovers his sense, before something warmer overtakes him. something cloying and slow and explosive. a gentle chuckle bubbles from his chest, climbs over his ribcage, until sylvain is laughing alongside the amalgamation.
“ alright, so that’s how we’re gonna do this. ” he laughs through the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, his head spinning as if his world has tipped on its axis. he will continue to press forward. “ sure then, let’s play. ”
@nagaficat
that don’t impress me much / t. ruins mechanic questioning
gradible:
“If I may, what do you use it for? It is similar to an… Armored carriage, of sorts.”
Ever the enigmatic one, Sirius enters without introduction. He finds himself well deserving of his spot at this meeting, seeing as how it was his strike against the Mechanic (and the resulting request) that has his allies bringing him materials today. By showing up, he proves to the mechanic his intention to make good on his word–that his attack was truly meant to test his character, not break his trust.
The dream-borne reacts little to his surprise appearance, instead focusing on the content of what Sirius says. “A… What?” is his response, and it comes coupled with a despondent frown.
The knight is taken aback by this: that he knows not of the concept of a simple carriage. But he’s been in this world. He’s become familiar with its setting, come to grasp what technologies do and don’t exist. It is possible–and entirely believable–that the place they inhabit has not met many of Fodlan or Valentia’s inventions.
The blonde files that thought away. It might come in handy later, perhaps able to take an enemy by surprise with a technique or weapon they hadn’t seen before. The Wooden Cavalry and that ballistician come to mind, though thoughts of them are inky-black and muddle his mood.
Waving the topic aside, Sirius continues–finding it fit to step into the center of the room, “Er, never mind. The question then: what is your answer?” His words fly straight and true, lacking any kind of poisoned bite or winged raise. They do not appreciate having their concern averted, but also don’t hold anything against the man.
He’s probably been through a lot as of late.
“Get in and you’ll see!” The grease-monkey replies, with enough enthusiasm for the both of them, “Come, come!”
Sirius is hesitant at first. He questions, for a moment, whether it is his place to join the others in this contraption. Solitude is by his side more than company, even in this nightmare. Is there even a point in denying fate when it will persist through his strongest efforts to be more social? But the Mechanic enters first, and in a way inspires the Grustian. He digests that he has been invited this time, and so finds a way to join at an arm’s length.
The Mechanic took the back seat, so Sirius enters the front. The door, makeshift as it may be, slides open and closes with a firm slam as he nestles into his seat. Before him are a number of buttons and levers, wheels and switches. He recognizes none of them, and hasn’t the messiest inkling of their purpose. Mouth slides slightly ajar at the sight of it all, its hands slowly–carefully–finding what he thinks resembles a ship’s wheel to hold onto. And for a moment, he envisions it as such, and the grease-coated shack around him fades into the sea. For once he is at the helm, he is the driving force in destiny. His thumbs settle against the steering wheel with a kind of natural ease the blonde didn’t believe was in him, and he breathes.
“There is ample room for more… I suggest we all find out, together.”
UP NEXT: @cavalry
the mechanic’s excitement is palpable when he beckons their group to further investigate his latest work in progress. at least ... that’s what sylvain thinks it is. it has to be, right? surely this isn’t the finished product. he’s piloted something similar to this metal carriage before, even though the technology then had been vastly different, and not at all painted such an unflattering shade of green.
well, at least the mechanic’s intentions seemed honest enough. so he follows into the machine and seats himself adjacent to where sirius takes the helm. the view feels familiar enough when his gaze sweeps thoughtfully over the dashboard: various buttons and switches, though the condition of some of them seemed poor enough that one would have to question whether or not they really did anything. after a moment of this, he twists his body around in his seat to look at the mechanic in the backseat.
“ i'm the last one here to doubt your prowess... i swear. but you sure this thing won't break down on us? ” sylvain asks. “ how do we use it? ”
if the mechanic senses sylvain’s uncertainty, he doesn’t say so and instead returns the question with a beaming smile. “ no promises! but should still be good for a test drive. just hit the button there -- that's the ignition! ”
sylvain gives a low whistle in reply, laughing gently under his breath. “ i like it! what’s life without a little uncertainty, right? ” satisfied with this response, he turns back to the dashboard and hovers a thoughtful hand above the various buttons, trying to find the one that the mechanic had pointed out. “ this one? ” he presses the button down, and the machine begins to emit a low rumble. curious.
another glance over the dashboard. after safely concluding that the absence of any obvious self destruct button, sylvain asks his next question: “ what about these? dead buttons? ” he begins to press each one in sequence of each other, reaching over to turn the dial to see if anything happened.
“ hey-- hey, stop-- ” the mechanic says, but sylvain can barely hear him over the sound of a sudden sharp static blaring from the machine.
“ that doesn’t seem right... ”
“ gah!! i haven’t fix that yet--! turn it off--!! ”
it’s a miracle that he can make out anything of what the mechanic just said. his head suddenly feels like it’s being split open. “ wh, hey! i don’t know what i hit! i’m trying--! ” he shouts back, frantically messing around with the dashboard for a few long, agonizing moments before he manages to turn the dial back down.
there’s a brief moment of recovery, before the mechanic speaks up again: “ maybe don’t ... mess around with random buttons. ”
insert quarter to play
princessmacedon:
There had been a twinkle about the Mechanic’s eye when he came to them - four people with altogether very little connecting them save the situation and their assigned tasks; a group that just so happened to have convened in the shadow of that odd metal giant that has shuffled closer by the day. Arms folded, hemming and hawing, he had stood next to them, drawling his surprise– nay, his utter shock!– that they had not put this so-called ‘crane’ to use just yet. (Was it for its great long neck that the machine was named? Maria had heard of such birds before - waterbirds with a spindly neck and spindlier legs; it’s an apt name, she thinks, though it has forfeited grace for power.)
And so, somehow, he had ushered them, Maria the first to follow. After all but throwing himself into the seat in the box, the Mechanic bent the crane to his will, an oddly large bucket lowered to the ground, and that is the moment he calls for a volunteer.
In spirit, Maria’s hand darts up the moment he asks, all bright eyes and curiosity ready to meet whatever kindles his feckless sense of adventure. In actuality, her hand lingers at her chin, brushing against her lower lip as she thinks on it a moment longer. The crane is a slow moving thing, and the Mechanic thus far has proven to be a friend… and the vantage point it might offer… her curiosity–
“I’ll go!” She calls back, her hand darting up anyways, and the Mechanic grins back at her like she’s picked the winning ticket. He directs her toward the newly-acquired bucket (where did they get that, anyhow?) and she, for her part, clambers in. …or does her best to for a handful of moments and then clambers in, tall thing that it is and tall girl that she isn’t. (Yet!)
The depth of it still startles her however, and more seconds pass ere she pops back up again, eyes peering and fingers curled over the edge.
“Is there anything special I’m supposed to do?”
“Nope, just hang on tight!”
It’s as she’s glancing around the bucket for anywhere else to find purchase that it begins to gently move. Side to side. Sway.. Sway…
“You good?” He calls out to her, and Maria giggles as she slowly, ever so slowly slides from one side to the other. She winds up in a corner, sliding still and giggling helplessly all the while. Her hand curls before her face, one finger touching the top of her nose, the rest curling in against her palm beyond it to catch her laughter. Eventually, she manages to flash the man a beaming grin and a fervently approving thumbs up.
Correctly, the Mechanic interprets it as his cue to ramp things up, and once Maria’s glued herself most fiercely to her corner, he begins to swing the crane again. Faster now, momentum sends her sliding along the walls of the bucket back and forth, until it begins to– or rather, continues a bit too much to pick up. She lurches forward a bit, clamps her arms and elbows against the wall and watches the way the ground moves; at some point, her feet even lift from the floor of the bucket, and though she sucks in an awed breath, it is as much for the sudden sense of danger as it is for the incredible way the world moves.
“How was that!” The Mechanic grins, but still, Maria is breathless, clinging to her corner of safety well after the crane has come to a pause. And yet– she wiggles– lets go of the wall in small margins– rocks onto her heels, then forward again onto her toes–
“That was so fun!” She laughs, grinning brightly, and oh, it is a terrible shame she cannot ever tell Michalis of this adventure for fear of the heart attack it might inspire. Wobbling slightly even still, she manages to crawl out of the bucket again, then to sit on the ground and wait for the others to take their turn.
@cavalry
sylvain isn’t one to turn down the opportunity for a little bit of entertainment here and there, especially when it seems so scarce in an environment like this. he trails near the back of the group, hands propped casually behind his head as he follows, watching curiously as the crane lowers a massive bucket to the ground. then, the mechanic asks for a volunteer. he only hesitates because he swears that he can hear ingrid’s voice in the back of his mind. something something, ‘ you need to learn to be more cautious, ’ something something.
man. maybe he misses his friends more than he thought.
it’s in this moment of brief melancholy that he hears maria volunteer herself, hand darting into the air and voice chiming with her excitement. sylvain nearly stops her to take her place in the case of a dangerous outcome, but she’s already crawling into the metal bucket, poking her head out with a dazzling expression.
the next few minutes are spent watching on with a concoction of both worry and amusement. the bucket sways to and fro, gently at first, and then gradually increases in intensity until its going fast enough that sylvain is amazed that it hasn’t flung the poor girl out of her seat yet. but maria’s smile stays as brilliant and elated leaving as it was entering, even if her balance seems a little lopsided as she crawls out and seats herself off to the side.
“ i’ll go next! looks like fun, ” sylvain volunteers himself. the mechanic beams back at him in response, somehow frighteningly innocent, but sylvain has never been someone to shy away from new experiences. he walks over to the crane and pulls himself into the bucket, holding onto either side with both hands. he grips onto it tight enough to turn his knuckles white, partially in anxious expectation of the chaos he had just witnessed, but the crane spends a while rocking gently from side to side.
“ you good? ” the mechanic asks. sylvain turns his head to glance over to him. “ good here! don’t hold back on me now, ” he replies with a wink and mimes blowing a joking kiss in his direction.
that was maybe a mistake to say. he learns this relatively quickly in the next few seconds: the crane first continues swaying leisurely to and fro, and all at once it’s speed begins to increase, and increase, and increase. it’s enough to have him pinned to the side of the hulking metal bucket, his previously tightened grip now slipping from where his hands had been propped, and ...
suddenly, his body is flung a short distance from the crane. the following landing is less than grateful.
-1.5 HP ♡ HP: 8.5/10
... ok. maybe the imaginary ingrid of his brain was right. he could learn to be a little more cautious about these things.
he groans a little from where he lays flat on his back, but after a moment of recovery finds enough wits about him to raise a reassuring thumbs up to the rest of the group. “ i’m fine! just... uh. maybe give me a minute. ”
@goldoandragonprince
core hunters | team ruins
sacretic:
lyon’s gaze shoots up from his injury at the voice he doesn’t recognize, violets only slightly narrowing at the sight of an unfamiliar man. nothing about him sparks familiarity or recollection in the prince’s mind. he must not have been present during the introductions, or else lyon would have recognized him. (and you doubt you would soon forget.)
a slight frown forms upon his countenance. so much for the short-lived he desired.
at least he recognizes forsyth out of the two joining him. & now that lyon thinks about it, they had a brief encounter at the monastery… except now lyon won’t be out of breath or attempting to carry a chair.
“i thought it would be fine… i wasn’t planning to go far,” he responds softly. i wanted quiet, lyon would say, yet those words die in his throat. they have a point. & he proceeds to peer inside the machines’ parts for anything else usable. “just take care when opening containers.”
roll d10: 3. lyon has been injured! again. (-1 HP)
he reaches for another one, presumably filled with the same liquid. only to flinch back, feeling something sharp graze against his hand, leaving a shallow scratch where it connects.
careless again.
it stings, and maybe it does even more when acquaintances are here to witness his failures.
[+1L fuel]
@cavalry
the man doesn’t seem all that pleased to have them joining as company: sylvain can tell in the slightest downward curve of a frown embedded into his features, the hushed sound of his response. whatever the case, it seems that he and forsyth were at the very least acquainted. lyon, did he say? his gaze flickers between the two for a few moments, and somewhere between this divided attention, the newest addition to their trio seems to have injured himself a second time.
1d10: 8 ♡ -0 HP HP: 6/10
there’s no teasing or chastising him for his carelessness. instead, sylvain moves to the side of lyon opposite of where forsyth stood, and gives a thoughtful hum as he peers down at the machine that lyon had been salvaging through for materials.
“ yeah, this one looks tricky ... ” he remarks and folds his arms tight across his chest, brows creased together as he tries to think of an easier way to access the machine’s contents. sylvain lingers like this for a long while, weighing his head to and fro in contemplation, until an idea finally clicks.
“ ah, i’ve got an idea! stand back for a second, ” sylvain shoos at the air to gesture for both forsyth and lyon to give him some space, reaching for his lance of ruin. there’s a second of careful aiming between the machinery before he plunges it into the metal. using the weight of his body and both hands at his lance, he holds the opening.
“ see anything in there? ”
1d3: 2 ♡ resource type: core 1d2: 2 ♡ dead core
“ try and grab it, if you can. i’ll hold this open for you. ”
@sacretic or @viridescent-lance
my shiny teeth and me by chip skylark
viridescent-lance:
“Ah yes, my apologies Lo–Chrom.” It feels wrong to discard the honorific, but Forsyth does wish to fulfill Chrom’s wishes. Perhaps it is this distraction that spurs the next series of unfortunate events; though if Forsyth is being honest with himself, it is simply a spur.
Roll to move: 1. Stay put!
Forsyth steps forward, looking to follow Chrom, but he finds his movement slowed as if he were moving through a viscous, clamping mud. One boot won’t even move from the ground without significant effort. Looking down, there’s a strange black goop holding him hostage.
Roll to move: 1. Stay put!
Sticking his lance in it to try and free his feet is not a very good idea. Instead, his lance becomes stuck fast as well. It takes a well and true struggle for him to free himself; truly, it feels as if some dreamlike logic allows him to finally, finally break free, stumbling forward so quickly he can hardly help himself.
Roll to move: 3. Move 2 spaces!
Roll injury: 1. -1HP to Forsyth (9/10HP)
“Woah!” Robotic drone guards slam directly into him, the impact hard enough to send jitters through his body, but little else. The little metal beasts are not nearly as lucky, splintering into pieces as they hit Forsyth’s solid form at such a high speed. Sadly, Forsyth doesn’t find much useful amongst their remains, though he’s able to see the weird black slick on the ground that caused his sudden movement.
Roll to move: 3. Move 2 spaces!
Roll harvest: 4 plate metal!
“I’m on my way!” Steadying himself, Forsyth marches ahead, spurred on by Chrom’s calls. He finds several sheets of metal that could easily be fashioned into whatever they need back at camp, and eagerly packs them away. “I’ll be there soon! Found some good–agh!”
Roll injury: 2. -2HP to Forsyth (7/10HP)
He was a little too hasty in his harvesting, maybe; several rusty edges poke through weak spots in his armor, and he hisses in pain.
the entrance had been littered in corroded metal and towering hills of junk and scrap, and though traversing it had been a relatively simple feat, sylvain realizes quickly that it’s becoming denser and denser the further they travel in. he can no longer skirt around the edges of scrap piles, being forced to try to climb over various hazards as carefully as he can while still being efficient with his gathering.
1d3: 3 ♡ moves to space 6
2d2: 1, 1 ♡ 2 plate metal acquired 1d3-1: 2 ♡ -1HP HP: 8/10
a wrong step causes him to nearly stumble right off one of the aforementioned scrap heaps. his body weight falls forward, just barely being able to catch himself, though lands cleanly on his ankle in the process.
there’s another hiss of pain. visibly wincing, he reminds himself that he’s endured far worse, and continues to press forward as hastily as he can manage.
sylvain thinks he would be more confident in his ability to journey through the yard unscathed if it weren’t for the whirring sound of robot drones on their heels. drawing closer, a subtle hum in the distant rooms behind now louder than before. in all honesty, he has half a mind to cease collecting the metal on the way and begin racing quick for the exit, but can’t shake the thought that the materials are a necessity for the others’ survival.
it’s in the next room that he sees it: beneath a pile of debris and rubble, a shimmering reflection hiding in the crevices. he looks behind himself, to the metal, behind himself once more, gauging the distance between their group and the aukes ...
gods.
“ we’ve got company, and something tells me they’re not here to say hello! ” sylvain calls out to his group. “ go ahead without me; i’ll catch up! ”
1d3: 1, 1, 6 ♡ moves to space 8
2d3: 3, 2 ♡ 5 plate metal acquired 1d3-1: 3 ♡ -2HP HP: 6/10
ignoring the pulsating pain at his ankle the best he can, sylvain runs towards the spotted glimpse of metal. there’s no grace or care in his movements anymore: he’s prying with his hands the best he can at the rusted plate that’s covering the usable materials. closer, he can hear the aukes approach and knows without looking behind himself that things are growing dire. so he pulls harder, throws his entire body into pulling off the plate, ignoring how the metal digs into the fresh, still bleeding wound across his palm.
suddenly, it snaps.
sylvain nearly falls backwards when it does. but he can’t be spared even a moment for relief, as in the next moment he’s hurriedly scrounging up all that he can possibly carry in his arms.
my shiny teeth and me by chip skylark
frauleindermorgen:
Once, she’s sure Sylvain’s wound has stopped bleeding and is shallow enough to not seem infected she nods to the rooms ahead of them. “We should catch up with the others,” she suggests, “and we do not know how far these ruins extend so taking our gains with us makes the most sense.”
Micaiah won’t be of much help in that regard considering her current state but there’s a plate of metal that is near tall as her and if put under her arm, right above her satchel weighs comfortably enough she should be able to bring it along unimpeded.
“I don’t want to slow you down, so I’ll go ahead first. Be careful though, alright? I am sure there’s plenty more material here so only take what you can carry.”
Having said so, Micaiah hefts her burden and takes off; though, as it turns out the sheet metal does her more good than ill.
[Roll 1d3! 3, Micaiah moves to space 4. Injured for 1 HP!]
As soon as she enters the next room she can tell Chrom must have simply rushed through here - the proof, one very angry flying machine that upon picking up on Micaiah’s presence starts to shoot those awful electrical beams in her direction. She’s able to block most of it with her makeshift metal shield and struck by inspiration just as much as desperation, Micaiah finds herself throwing her shield like a discus in the robot’s direction and miraculously hitting the mark.
Maybe Yune was with her today, that certainly had been the chaos goddess’s style after all.
“Well, that’s more material, I suppose,” Micaiah says to herself, starting to collect what she can once she’s made sure the room is clear of any further enemies.
[Micaiah collects 3 pieces of assorted metal. Roll 1d3!, 2, Micaiah moves to space 5 with no injuries sustained.]
Lugging what she can with her Micaiah follows the voices up ahead, recognizing them as Chrom’s and Forsyth’s in the room just ahead. “Sir Chrom! Sir Forsyth! Are you both well? Sylvain and I ran into a bit of trouble but we are managing.”
@cavalry / @ylisseanstar
how did she realize that he had been injured, when he hadn’t made a sound? sylvain is only afforded a few fleeting moments to linger on the thought: they aren’t afforded enough time for him to be asking questions like that now, and regardless of how she knew, micaiah’s concern for him comes as a gentle surprise. “ yeah, i’m fine. ‘s just a scratch, is all. ” he curls his palm in on itself to shy his injury away from her once she’s glanced it over.
1d3: 1 ♡ stays on space 2 / 1d3: 2 ♡ moves to space 4
micaiah leaves to travel ahead, and sylvain takes the moment alone to collect together the metal he had found. stashed away as carefully as he can manage in the bags that he had brought with him, he follows in the direction that he saw micaiah leave in.
1d3-1: 1 ♡ no dmg HP: 9/10
and just in time for him to watch as micaiah flings a piece of metal in the direction of an agitated robot flying overhead. he gives a low whistle, watching as the machine crumbles pitifully on impact to the ground. “ wasn’t i supposed to be the knight? ” he’s musing mostly to himself, as micaiah had already rushed ahead in the direction of their teammates voices in the distance. sylvain pauses to kick at the bits of the machine left over. “ i’ll have to consider myself corrected. ”
@ylisseanstar
my shiny teeth and me by chip skylark
team ruins, first weekend mini-game
materials have started to grow scarce, and it goes without saying that a dwindling number of resources might mean disaster if left unattended to. so by the mechanic’s recommendation, they have all divided into smaller teams and journeyed to higher risk areas in search of resources. their destination was ... less than picturesque. an enclosed expanse littered in looming heaps of scrap metal: just by idly glancing over what he can see, it’s obvious to sylvain that most of what they’re looking at will be unusable. they’ll need to go digging for anything of value.
they haven’t been there for more than a minute before the mechanic is peering his head into the yard from the entrance, warning their group that he can already hear the aukes coming. he promises to distract them, but their clocks are ticking.
“ i’ll start this way. if you two notice anything alarming, just call out and i’ll be running to your aid. ” he turns his head to glance back and wink at his teammates, micaiah and chrom. both are respectively cute in their own right. lucky day! “ think of me as your own personal knight in shining armor. ”
with that, sylvain begins to make his way further into the scrap yard.
1d3: 2 ♡ move forward 1
climbing over the scrap heaps takes some careful maneuvering, but he hasn’t fallen yet. he pauses at the top and takes one sweeping glance beneath his feet. there isn’t anything of immediate value that he can see, so he bends down to begin digging through sheets of rusted metal.
2d4: 4, 3 ♡ 7 metal acquired
1d3-1: 2-1 ♡ -1 HP HP: 9/10
there’s an abundance of usable metal beneath the trash! unfortunately, sylvain’s excitement at the sight causes him to begin haphazardly tossing rusted scraps and metal sheets out of the way. in his recklessness, one of the pieces slices through the palm of his hand. sylvain hisses in pain and retracts his hand to look at the newly sustained injury: not too bad, he observes, but certainly not an ideal start to all of this ...
@frauleindermorgen or @ylisseanstar ♡
# 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖑𝖗𝖞. a closed roleplay blog for sylvain gautier of fire emblem: three houses, affiliated with the officer’s academy. as haunted by ven ♡
» prompts tag ♡ headcanons tag ♡ drabbles tag * » tag: honey.#8484 » icon by hakoming_jp » header by dewa, edited w permission. psd » last updated: jan. 7th
core hunters | team ruins
sacretic:
dismantling: receive 1 random resource (plate of metal, strange core [roll 1d2: 1=dormant core, 2=dead core], or 1L fuel) per post. 40% chance of injury (-1HP) // an open starter for teammates.
hesitation, it seems, isn’t enough to ward away his growing curiosity for much longer. despite his better judgement, lyon is alone when he wanders closer to one of the broken machines that have long since fallen silent. but he would almost prefer it this way: working alone and having space for himself.
“let’s see here…” the prince murmurs to no one, crouching down to inspect one of the more intact machines. & he turns it over with care, fingers searching for a hatch or similar spot to pry it open. it’s intriguing how his dream self finds it without trouble, as though instinctively knowing where to look… the knowledge that wasn’t there before quietly springs into existence.
lyon won’t question it.
roll d10: 4. lyon has been injured! (11/12 HP)
he opens one compartment or another, hissing when liquid spills on his wrist. & lyon fumbles to close it before the violets ever gaze down at his injury. it definitely stings, his pale skin now angry red from its contact with the liquid.
ah, in a span of minutes, he has already managed to injure himself… what did he expect?
but at least this looks like something they could use.
[ + 1L fuel]
it has been a simple enough task to keep his hands busy: an endless cycle of dirt, grime, and work in search for more materials, reconstructing none of them had ever actually seen for themselves. during one of his rare moments of downtime, he’s found some company in one of the few teammates that he can recognize: forsyth, who for the past half hour or so he has been idly discussing the possibility of robot battle cats.
( “ this is the second time we’ve been caught with this kind of tech in a mission. i’m just saying, but wouldn’t that book series back home be so much more interesting if they were made of metal? think about it. someone’s gotta write it ... ” )
that he notices the blur of lavender in his peripheral. he turns his head just enough to catch the heel of one of their teammates leaving on their own, and then glances back to forsyth. “ we should probably follow before he gets hurt. the more the merrier, yeah? ” sylvain pushes himself off of the pile of miscellaneous scrap and junk that he had been sitting on, and begins to trail after their teammate.
unfortunately, by the time he’s caught up, it seems too late to spare him of injury. the man is kneeling over something, and his wrist is turning a vibrant, angry hue of red from contact with the fuel. “ whoa! you okay? ” sylvain calls out, attempting to carefully maneuver himself over rubble and debris towards him.
“ see, this is what you get for sneaking off without us. it’s no fun when you’re by yourself. ”
1d3: 3 ♡ + 1L fuel 1d10: 5 ♡ uninjured. HP: 10/10
@viridescent-lance
our house it has a crowd
frauleindermorgen:
Micaiah can’t help it; she laughs, though not in a particularly cruel way she hopes. The way this one acts it’s as if he’s taken lessons in flirting since youth - which, she suppose might be possible when it came to nobles of Fodlan, really she hadn’t thought of it before.
“I’m afraid in a dream like this even if I did pinch you it wouldn’t do much other than sting a bit,” she replies, letting go off the other’s hand once she’s made sure he’s awake and stable. If her own hands coming away bruised and battered digging through a mechanical shell was anything to go by there was very little physically that could wake them here, and that was perhaps best not to dwell on (she’s glad she’s changed into new gloves).
“It’s alright, Kurth,” she says, turning to her friend with a smile, “he only did just wake up and we’ve never met, after all. I’m Micaiah by the way,” she adds back in the other’s direction, and as an after thought, “already spoken for.”
Ah! At Maria’s addition to the conversation she does think she might know who this is, or at least she’s heard of a shameless royal close to Prince Dimitri. He must be one of the Blue Lions then.
“Mm… let’s put the core down on the cloth for now, and put it somewhere safe. I think perhaps cleaning up here is the best thing to do as Maria indicated,” Micaiah suggests waving to the rest of the apartment, empty of resources but still in need of a good brushing at least.
“Then perhaps we can focus on fixing the flooring and go from there?”
@cavalry
one of them immediately makes their disapproval of sylvain’s usual antics known: he doesn’t miss the forced smile that pulls at the corners of the other man’s mouth, the grit teeth behind it. sylvain’s expression remains comfortable and steady, giving no hints that he has even picked up on any sort of hostility. if anything, he finds himself mildly amused at the situation-- sylvain recognizes the man as a member of the golden deer faculty. wouldn’t want to get on one of the professor’s bad sides now. there’s an inhale of breath, ready to issue some vague, superficial apology for getting ahead of himself, when one of the girl’s ( maria ? ) speaks:
“ you’re dimitri’s friend, aren’t you? ”
“ huh? ” sylvain’s brows arch in their surprise at the comment. he is recognized for many rumors ( none of which are ever kind on sylvain’s behalf ), but he can’t recall a moment that he’s ever been recognized as a friend. this is one of the few things that could catch him off guard. retracting his hand from micaiah’s, he instead moves to rub his palm nervously over the back of his neck. his smile seems almost sheepish. “ i mean. yeah, that’s me. are you acquainted with his highness, too? he might seem a little awkward at times, but he’s one of the best guys i know. ”
his demeanor shifts a little here, spurred on by the mention of one of his closest friends, and does his best to recall that they’re on a mission. “ we’re cleaning? well, you’re in luck that i can be more than just eye candy. ” one hand lifts to comb his fingers through his hair, glancing around to gauge the work they had ahead of them. “ starting with the flooring sounds like a good idea. i feel like it’s about to break underneath at any second. ”
“ let’s start by pulling out the old, rotten planks. what tools have we got for ourselves? ”
- 1 wood ♡ @goldoandragonprince