wall of ice.

@cielenruine

closed rp account for Matthias Raoul Gautier, from Fire Emblem: Three Houses | penned by kuno | Blue Lions instructor from The Officer's Academy.

950 posts

with one life alone

⤷ herald: bow +1

A festival of this scale requires food to match, and the town of Baile has ordered an unbelievable amount of preserved meat to stock its food stores. Winter isn’t exactly the season for big hunts though, so finding game will be harder than normal. On top of that, the more you kill for Baile’s, the less you’ll have when spring arrives. The monastery has made it clear that offending this client could have dire consequences, so what do you do? Maybe if you fudge the numbers, you won’t get caught… [Grants Bow +1]

The tip of his arrow lowering silently, Andrei watches the doe cross the clearing, a clean path of hoofprints through the damp, frigid earth.

A doe that survives winter could mean two young fawns in spring. The amount of game available in any given year could make the difference between abundance and famine, contentment and revolt. It is the kind of lesson that imprints itself, like second nature, within his mind, even when Garreg Mach is not his territory and neither its future nor its inhabitants his responsibility.

(Even so far removed from his own land, obligation leaves its mark, still.)

It would be more ideal, then, to seek out prey that is larger, older, its value for the future decreased in proportion to the meat it can supply now.

A rustle in the undergrowth draws his attention, and narrowed eyes train onto his new target, drawing back his weapon—

"!!"

—only for the bow to swing downwards with his sharp inhale, eyes wide in shock at the figure that emerges from the trees.

(He wouldn't have made the mistake. He wouldn't have. And yet. His hands shake, the shadow of a turned back, the tip of his raised arrow, floating into mind.)

Andrei's own steps crunch the fallen leaves underfoot as he emerges from his hiding spot, careful, nonthreatening posture in stark contrast with the haunted look that he is unable to wipe from his expression quite in time.

"…Margrave Gautier?"

@cielenruine

Scarcity and it's consequences reach much farther than a bruised ego. In spite of the far more pertinent issues - food storages being thinner and food that could be preserved to coast people along throughout the harsher months spoiling before even the worst of blizzards runs through - the appeasement of the noble ego is the priority.

There are ways to manage this. Stretching thin a smaller number of caught bucks or improvising spice wise to make up for missing meat.

His thoughts make him incautious. To begin with, there are prey they shouldn't be killed and work far better as guides to more fruitful targets. Should whatever hunter he happens upon be upset then-

Instinctively he flinches and dips to a lower stance, eyes are on him and though they aren't hostile, they certainly stay and stare in a way he would be utterly ignorant to ignore.

He hears his name and finds a familiar face calling it. "Andrei." Contact has been amicable. Short and sweet - letters can only do so much to tell the stories of what happens in the world.

"A welcome surprise to be paired on the same mission." His expression gives little away, only the slightly tilt upwards on his lips. "You've been well, have you not?"

#//son familiar with pointing weapons at father meets father familiar with son pointing weapons at him

99 NIGHTS IN THE INFINITE IKEA?!?! 🤯 (GONE WRONG 😱) (OLD MAN YAOI WARNING ⚠️)

Non-Mission Task Board || Matthias

Rumors often are equipped with petty matters and embellished details, even further defiled by hungry ears and loose mouths. Oftentimes when one of these rumors fall upon Nyx's ears, they are met with a slight scoff and a turned cheek at its ridiculousness.

However, at the mention of a peculiar large shop with an even larger selection of tomes and items, Nyx just has to verify. Even if what a minuscule fraction of what they speak holds truth, then it must be pursued.

After all, a remedy to her curse might be present. A siphoning ailment that pollutes her every waking moment. The heavy years cannot weigh her devotion to a search. Every little lead must be followed, despite how taxing or true it is.

How cruel a thing hope is.

Though, something that the rumors conveniently forgot to detail was the need for a ridiculous card. To guard at the store front, Nyx crosses her arms and furrows her brow, "You mean to tell me that in order to be a patron, I must possess a card or be spoken for? How obsessed. To reject one's coin simply because it doesn't have that 'romantic gleam'."

She turns her back to the store front, her pride ready to move her feet, but her desperation forces them to stay. A torrent of frustration builds, soon to be met with an exhale, venting all her pent up thoughts.

She must get in. A store truly that big must have hints on how to reveal her true self, or perhaps how to revert her form. This possibility absolutely cannot be passed up.

So now she turns to the crowd, and to the first free person she spots, one donning fiery red hair, she approaches, "Pardon me. May I please have a moment of your time?"

Now that he is in front of her she truly realizes what a character she has picked out. Looming over her, his stare is met with her unwavering gaze.

I really did choose quite the character.

"Young man, I require your aid. Could you please pretend to be my lover?"

@cielenruine

No.

Moments earlier... Matthias had found himself waiting. A store this large begets a line just as long and he has no qualms about such a thing. Rushing to the front will do little for him and it's not as though it's stood still. Though the pace is a crawl, to move is to move.

These are his thoughts before the most baffling of questions is asked by, frankly, most baffling a person.

She comes from the front, yet her arms are devoid of wares or any such trinket from the shop. Dismissed at the entrance then. For what reason he cannot fathom aside from looking to her question.

He looks about them at the others in the line. Were they all just waiting to be turned away if they weren't holding hands or here with their lover? What of those with 'lovers' far away? He doubts they would turn a profit, even with the monastery's population, if their criteria for entry were so restrictive.

And did she just call him a young man?

Matthias finally sighs, the beginning of his response. His glove is pulled off as the second part of it and he holds his hand out such that his ring finger is visible. Around it are two ring like marks, one mostly covered by an actual silver ring. "I'm not keen on a third marriage," -to say nothing of the fact that before him is most certainly a student.

"-But you aren't asking. What did they tell you when they sent you away?"

#[99 NIGHTS IN THE INFINITE IKEA?!?! 🤯 (GONE WRONG 😱) (OLD MAN YAOI WARNING ⚠️) || threads]#//i don't think he has even been so concerned. little one why would you ask such a thing #//he can just lend you money if that's what you need-#//excited to see what insane thing they come up with to manage this #//also 1 weirdest way he's ever met someone in his life someone get this lost child

The Margave returns!

After a break bordering on a year, he's decided to resume his tenure as a professor for the Blue Lions, specializing in teaching military strategy and diplomacy.

If you previously had a bond with him that you would like to keep, please IM me here on his blog or dm me(kuno1012) so we can discuss the contact he kept. As an example, if you choose this option then the default is him having sent letters to keep up with your muse.

Otherwise, feel free to meet him for the first time(again)!

A little bit of a guideline update that'll go up on his updated page under the cut.

the memories this will hold || rhys & matthias

"Crimea," he answers. "A country in western Tellius. It's far from here. I don't expect you'd know it, my partner and I had to travel for a long time before we arrived here." Ahh...his partner. Rhys's smiles widens at that thought.

"Oh you seem very familiar with the craftsmanship. Are you a carpenter by chance?" The way he looks over the bookshelf and speaks of it makes it seem he has more knowledge than the average person about such things. Or perhaps Rhys just doesn't know much about woodworking.

"Regrettably, I do not." The man turned and offered a smile. "I hope this land has been treating you well." That people were still able to find something within it worth coming for, there was some joy to be had in that he thinks.

A small chuckle and the bookshelf returns to his view. Carefully, he disassembles and pulls out one of the shelves. Weighty as it was- goddess this had to be some work deemed not good enough for an enthusiast.

"You could say something of that sort. It's not a trade I'm versed in." Thinking back to the reconstruction of the monastery itself, most people who helped that effort could at least call themselves novices with how things had come along and help up.

Goddess forbid he reveal his title lest their merchant attempt to sell promises the poor case couldn't keep."

He holds the shelf itself out and turns it over. "There's pitting on the bottom. For all the rigidity it has, one could need to be mindful of that being a weak point."

Gloved fingers guided over each weak spot and in a quieter voice he spoke. "With a bit of care, it could certainly be reliable."

He felt like he was beginning to sell the young man on this thing more than the merchant was. "... works like these eventually end up as kindling somewhere. Imperfections so minor as not to be seen are a grave offense to some nobility and most commoners tend not to have the collections nor the funds."

"If you have the collection to line it, it'll last you lifetimes over."

#[the memories this will hold || threads]#[ic]#//sometimes i feel like he just says things #//im sorry rhys #//unfortunately so much of ones legacy being tied to an inanimate object makes you think more and more about their care and abandonment #//it's simply a bookshelf and yet

sinners and saints || lucius & matthias

It's been far too long, he thinks. The crisp air brings with it a nostalgic smell. He's been busy. It was too easy to fall back onto such excuses for not offering up prayers as he should. The cathedral is sparse. It tends to be quiet to begin with, only the shuffling of vestments and carefully placed footfalls so as to be respectful of those who were praying.

Once the sun had set, it nearly felt like another world ,save for the one or two other people to be found between the pews.

The margrave closes his eyes and let the silence take him. So many are the things he can pray for but he can't help but feel as if this night may prove to be little more than a first draft of what he should say, what woes it makes sense to present. Hundreds of faces line the peripherals of his vision. None truly were there– or so he thought. A man stood out amongst the crowd of nameless faces. His too had no name attached but he was more tangible if only barely. Matthias wouldn't put it above himself to converse with a ghost of his own making.

Prayer wasn't this man's purpose so much as it seemed to be relaxing.

“The winter air makes this place feel a bit warmer somehow, does it not?” He offers in a tone just above a whisper. He was hardly getting rest anytime soon. A conversation would hardly hurt to help that along... and most importantly, his thoughts alone would hardly allow this place to be the sanctuary he'd like it to be.

@alluxerim

#[sinners and saints || threads]#[ || thread start]#[support: lucius]#[ic]

the memories this will hold || rhys & matthias

There's no use. What little money he and Ike have earned through odd jobs is barely enough to afford this, and there's several things Rhys still needs to buy. As nice as it would be to have a bookshelf, he will have to forgo this purchase until they've saved up a little more. It's too bad, too. The woodwork is nice, nicer than anything he ever saw back in Crimea, and he can easily see where he would place it and the items he would fill it with.

"Huh?" Rhys turns and the man's question registers. "Oh, books mostly. I have a few I've brought all the way from home and I would like to give them a proper place. They're not hefty, but they are precious to me." He smiles but knowing that he can't buy the bookshelf makes the sentiment not quite reach his eyes. "But I'll have to leave this here. I'm sure there's another around that I can afford." There's many other things he'd like to use it for. Candles, perhaps a small altar arranged atop it, or any trinkets and baubles he and Ike might come across. Still, it won't be this bookshelf.

Rhys continues, "If you're interested, it's selling for a good price." Even if he can't afford it, he knows it's a good deal.

Matthias hums. "From home?" Looking over the man now he noted his own unfamiliarity with his style of clothing.

"It'd be more than a shame to do so." His eye draws over to the man running the stall. "Pieces like this are rare yes... but they aren't so perfect as to always fall at the given price point."

Stepping closer to it, he ran his hand over the inner walls between the shelves. Inquisitive fingers were quick to take note of something and he turned to the ginger haired man. "A few of the inserts need to be reworked. It's likely the ones the shelves rest upon now also need such work.

One fact precedes his words, he knows this bookshelf likely won't fall into the young man's price range however, the closer it got to such split hairs and silver coins, the easier it was to justify the difference needed.

#[the memories this will hold || threads]#[ic]#//of course! genuinely so excited to write with you #//matthias for all his gruff is so sentimental #//i can't imagine him passing up the opportunity to help with something he knows would be well loved

the memories this will hold || rhys & matthias

It had long been time to invest in the little faculty dorm he’d been offered. Nothing could compare to the estate, years of curated work and contracted carpenters making it all to specifications couldn't compare to the generalized nature of the furniture most had to work with. He isn't sure if he remembers his own academy room fondly or with the disdain one naturally incurred when size failed to meed expectations.

Matthias’s eye is keen, some trinkets he’s tempted to keep but would he really need it? More than that, he’s not sure he could stomach the pain of almost losing such things if they did gain a sentiment.

“Final price- I can't go lower than that for a shelf like this,” the margrave overhears.

Amber eyes find themselves on the spoken of shelf and he hums, feet carrying him over to look upon it closer.

At a glance, it was sturdy. Longevity likely played a factor in even the docked price but… he could tell already, there was a story as to why something like this found its way here.

The wood itself was a beautiful color, minimal pitting, the finish upon it had protected it well. With shelves that guaranteed one likely would need a lifetime to fill it to capacity… he could see himself caving to it even at the higher price point. Such couldn't always be the case for others.

“How hefty is the material you plan to line the shelves with?” he asks to the man eyeing it in the first place.

@gentleaureole

#[the memories this will hold || threads]#[ic]#[support: rhys]#[ || thread start]

Does the Wall of Ice Shiver?

Anniversary 2024 +1 Heavy Armor

(tw: animal death, mention of child death)

Victorious was the hunter who tracked back to nest, rutheless in pursuit and merciless in capture. Survival was always at a cost. He had done his best however to be wise in his choice of prey. They had food, he need not be wasteful and slaughter a family for what was nothing more than a comfort meal, meant to gently soothe and take some bite of the cold away. Lukas truthfully could manage with what they had...and yet Matthias found his mind wouldn't allow him to return empty handed. A lone rabbit. Plump. One set of tracks, none alongside the way to it's den.

He stalked and he recalled. It was rare his boys got sick. Between simple being so used to their environment or something within their blood as Gautiers. It was why when it did happen he felt beside himself. His steps were silent as he approached and waited close by the entrance of the den. Sylvain...there were times he still had nightmares of that day. No matter how many blankets, how close they were to the fireplace, how tightly he held his son, vacant eyes and blue lips were all he was met with.

Prey revealed itself and he was quick to pounce. in one hand, he'd caught the rabbit and held it down by its neck. A prayer was offered before another precious life found its way within the goddess's arms. It had been too tense but there was little for that. He couldn't afford to be so picky and what little flavor it garnered even in such a state was enough. A moment passed, there was thought to get one more but this was enough. The trek back, while far heavier set, was easy enough and the sight that greeted him left a pout on his face. "Where do you think it is you're going young man?" As he walked back in to set his catch down he sighed. "I assure you've no need to worry for me Lukas, I told you, if anything this is far more like home to me." The blankets were secured around him again and there was a small look of concern as he felt Lukas's forehead. "You've still got a ways to go, lay back down, I wanted to make something that might help."

It's as Lukas is gathering himself up to go out into the storm after the older man that he hears the approach of footsteps in the snow. Matthias seems utterly unbothered by the fact that he was stepping in from spending gods' know how long out in this storm, and though he recalls that the other had said this was like home to him, Lukas still feels himself baffled somewhat by this fact.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches the man reenter as if he had not taken any risks at all, a rabbit dead in hand as his apparent reward. He'd...done that to go hunting...?

"I...saw that you were not here when I awoke," Lukas started to answer slowly, brow furrowing faintly as Matthias went out of his way to readjust the blanket around his shoulders. If he were not feeling a bit better, he might blame his confusion on the fever -- which was surely not helping, but wasn't entirely responsible. "Seeing as we had established the need to stay inside earlier, I don't think it's too out of the ordinary to be...concerned that you walked right back out there as soon as I fell asleep."

Lukas goes still again at the touch of a hand to his forehead, blinking owlishly for a moment after it was withdrawn before shaking his head in the negative. "No, I'm...quite alright for the moment. You went to the effort to get us extra food, the least I can do is help you with what you wish to make. If you're concerned, I'll sit by the fire as we work, if that will suffice?"

He gives Matthias just long enough to acknowledge that compromise, not waiting for permission to do so, as he went back to their packs to what food they had brought with them. He was hardly a cook -- and though he had learned some things by necessity in the Deliverance, making things taste good consistently wasn't something he'd mastered nor tried to get better at -- but he knew how to dress a rabbit, and perhaps they had some extras they could use to add to whatever meal Matthias had in mind.

"I did not think our situation so dire as for you to sneak off like that, however. Did you think I would protest, or demand to follow after you?" Lukas asked, sitting back down by the smaller fire with, pack set in his lap as he digs through it.

He wasn't incapable of understanding why Matthias wouldn't want him out there in his current condition, but to slip out while he slept like he was a child was amusing...if not a little irritating to his pride.

"My apologies." In spite of his words, a smile barely crests his lips. It was a funny feeling, to miss the times when he'd been scolded by all too eager voices for such high crime. "In truth, I did intent to adhere to my word but I feel I've come to crave the cold after our previous journey."

He shakes his head, fond of the initiative at least. "It's good you'd like to not sit still but for the moment, I think your body will thank you for allowing a bit more rest." That was what he said, yet as he began to prepare the rabbit, he made no efforts to stop Lukas.

"It'll be plain tasting but it'll go down quite easily."

The question has to be pondered. What he knew of this young man was that while undoubtedly sharp, he was a bit reckless with himself. His own antics hadn't helped or been the most shining example of control but Lukas...

"I did. Or at least that you might insist on staying up when you need all the warmth you can get."

#[does the wall of ice shiver?]#[ic]

the flowers are more pressing than the weeds... || matthias & greil

[NSFW]

Greil shrugged off his coat, settling on one side of the couch and draping it over his lap. He was still skeptical about those rumors, though Matthias seemed to think of them as true enough to try persuading him to pluck more than just one. He took out the little flower from his coat pocket and examined it to compare once again. And there it was again, that faint, yet effortlessly pleasant smell. Perhaps he was too caught up in his fever that he didn’t notice the changes in its petals, for he tucked it back into his coat without a comment.

Although, this fever must be unlike anything he’s experienced before for him to hunch over with his elbows over his knees, to feel as if his pants had grown too tight on him —

… Shit.

It had to be those flowers, he thought. What else could have induced this arousal? He had no idea how long it would last. All he knew was that he absolutely cannot take the coat off his lap until he formulated some sort of plan to deal with it.

It took a while for Greil to answer Matthias’ suggestion. “The brew is,” he clears his throat, “unnecessary. A regular fire should suit us just fine...”

( nsfw )

On an eve like this, he supposes the man correct. The brew, while he held high hopes, likely wasn't even necessary. The margrave took little time to set the fireplace though he threw back a chuckle as flames illuminated the room and warmed them even further.

"Are you positive? I wonder if you've not already begun burning up?"

Their work had hardly been so intensive.

"Excuse me a moment." His hand was light as it brushed back stray strands of brown hair and rested against hot skin.

He's nearly tempted to pull his hand back... but the sensation of another's skill against his sends a shiver right through his arm and straight to the pit of his stomach.

#nsfw #[the flowers are more pressing than the weeds || threads]#[ic]

down the rabbit hole

mission board: distress || authority +1

Oh dear, they truly were pulling out all the stops. What else would one expect of Mittelfrank?

"Improv is a useful skill on stage. If every performance were to the letter, patronage would hardly be as plentiful as it is." A dozen times they had watched the same opera, the same musical ensemble, and the same cast; all had been different. Quite a lot of a diva's work, he assumed, was that of making certain the audience never tired of witnessing them.

He stands and stretches, a small preparation as his mind began to run. "Multiple runs of different scenes will help you best. Focusing too much on what you believe the director wants betrays your own connection with your role."

On what Alice believes the director wants... while the concept makes sure sense to her in theory, in practice, she finds it rather odd. She does not pace before Matthias, unwilling to fall prey to such simple forms of childish insecurity, but she does fluff her skirts in compromise. A little fidget, disguised behind a thoughtful look.

"For an audition, should I not aspire to do what the director wishes to see? A-ah, not that I don't know! I merely wish to understand your insight."

He smiles softly. "Ultimately that should be your goal, but enjoying your time on the stage, embodying the shoes it is you've stepped into."

Matthias rests a hand over his chest. "It might be better to ask you this; what is it that draws you to the stage?"

From the shoes of a patron... to have a place on the stage was to step into another world. Members of the audience were simply guided through it, but all the best shows he'd seen left little separate between role and actor even if the truth was far from the two being similar in any way.

#[down the rabbit hole]#[ic]

down the rabbit hole

mission board: distress || authority +1

It takes a moment to realize but he does finally notice. "My apologies, this dress has a much brighter blue to it, doesn't it? A journey from door to door would not have a young lady dress as elegantly as you are now." His eyes brightened a bit. "You are a fan of the opera?" It made sense, and yet he found himself surprised. Had he been that transparent about it during the event?? "You'd like me to assist you with that?" He was a strategy teacher? And yet... "I suppose I can assist...but it will certainly pale in comparison to your performance." Maybe he had gotten too used to Ingrid's mannerisms. "What might the script be about? Mittlefrank is rarely does the ordinary."

“That’s the problem!”

Alice’s words again are spoken as a childish huff, indignant. Blue skirts rustle, and the bow upon her head bounces as she continues animatedly.

"I've picked some scripts to practice for audition -- of course, I'm well practiced at recitation -- but the actual plot of the production is supposed to be improvised."

She looks at him expectantly, then -- she seeks not just a scene partner, but a partner in improvisation. To her, strategy and stageplay are not too different a thing.

Oh dear, they truly were pulling out all the stops. What else would one expect of Mittelfrank?

"Improv is a useful skill on stage. If every performance were to the letter, patronage would hardly be as plentiful as it is." A dozen times they had watched the same opera, the same musical ensemble, and the same cast; all had been different. Quite a lot of a diva's work, he assumed, was that of making certain the audience never tired of witnessing them.

He stands and stretches, a small preparation as his mind began to run. "Multiple runs of different scenes will help you best. Focusing too much on what you believe the director wants betrays your own connection with your role."

#[ic]#[down the rabbit hole]

the way in which the snow falls as we rest || sylvain & matthias

As much as the Margravine was perfectly capable of watching the fort on her own, Sylvain knew she missed all of this- time spent with family, even through missions or errands. His meeting with her last night was brief but filled with hugs and sweet cooing words much to his embarrassment, but that Sylvain accepted with a happy grin. It was his mother’s love.

“Aw c’mon, getting timed even on my birthday? I don’t get even a little bit of slack? That’s cruel!” Despite the whine through pouty lips the heir quickly put on clothes appropriate for the weather, needing only a glance towards the window to judge how cold it would be for the day. Three layers on top of his main coat, convenient in case he felt the need to shed something while crossing through areas blessed with more warmth than the capital.

A spray of perfume wrapped his preparations with a neat bow, making quick way through dark wooden doors towards the front of Estate Gautier where his horse waited patiently. “I’m coming!”

@cielenruine

"I'm not going to hand over the title of Margrave so easily," he jests. His gloves are taken off for a moment and he steals just a finger tip of balm from Sylvain's vanity. "You'll need to make good timing when people request you. Training your horse to that effect, training all born under our house to that strength, falls to you. I need to see how much I have left to teach you."

The journey out and to their steeds wasn't too long of one, birthday wishes pleasantly given by any who saw the young Gautier heir. It was quick work to sit atop Gur, a hand running through her mane. "If we aren't quick there'll be nothing left of breakfast for you."

A gentle pace was set as they first started to set off.

#[the way in which the snow falls as we rest]#[ic]

the way in which the snow falls as we rest || sylvain & matthias

A bittersweet reminder as the smile slowly faded into pensiveness. Between losing his father far too early to battle or disease and watching him grow old Sylvain much preferred the latter, but the idea of his death approaching regardless never failed to wash over him in a blanket of light sadness. “Yeah, hence why I’ll enjoy each second of it.” Being sentimental around Matthias was always a mixed bag, more often than not resulting in a light scolding for being too soft, but he couldn’t help it.

“Phew, that sounds good to me. If everyone had prepared a ball I’d attend for sure, but I think I’ve had my fill of partying for the next couple of moons…” Still grueling in its own way, even more considering the cold weather as snow slowly took over the territory in winter’s steady approach, but to Sylvain that was the best case scenario. He’d rather ride into the sunset and meet some lords than to waste away drowning in a vial of varnish in the middle of another ball.

Once Matthias seemed satisfied with his handiwork, Sylvain got up and reached for a change of clothes. “She’s already out there? What time did you two even wake up at…tell her I’m almost ready!” The sun wasn’t even up yet! Did they just wake up at midnight?

"And also...who are we visiting first?"

@crevassier

Sweet was the son who'd been thrown so suddenly into the worsts of life. The habit of eyes trending to arms he knew were no longer bruised past the scraps and scratches of regular training. Sylvain is quick when he needs to be, well put when he needs to be. Remembering that fact was good for his heart.

"It's fine," he chuckles. "She's been handling matters for such a long time, I think she's glad to send word ahead of us." For her son, she did more than he ever could.

They had been awake since-- that didn't matter.

"On the border with Fraldarius. They set up a bit of a street festival." Part of why Giselle was so happy to go on ahead no doubt.

A smile crosses his lips, known only to him. "I will be taking note of your speed just so you are aware."

#[ic]#//tumblr hating this thread tag is fucking killing me #[the way in which the snow falls as we rest]

the way in which the snow falls as we rest || sylvain & matthias

“Doing my hair for me? I’m a lucky birthday boy to get this generous treatment.” It wasn’t always that anyone did Sylvain’s grooming routine for him, let alone his father- the last time being when he was still a little boy far too young to be able to neatly tie a black blow keeping red curls into a neat tiny ponytail. The heir however wasn’t one to deny such type of care, allowing Matthias to handle the state of his hair while he rubbed a moist piece of cloth against his face to wipe sleep away.

A small smile graced his features, though it was hard to tell what it truly meant. “I know it’s my birthday, yeah. Time flies.” Cloth was placed back on the vanity as Sylvain’s hands quickly reached for powder and cotton applicator. “Is there any party planned, or just a dinner?” He really wasn’t in the mood for another party, but at the same time would never turn away preparations done for his birthday. After all, it still meant that people took their time and resources to create something for him.

“Are you gonna sing me ‘Happy Birthday’ with a cake and all the little candles?” Sylvain then looked up to meet Matthias’ eyes, sporting a cheeky smile and a wink.

@crevassier

"You're getting closer to the days when I won't be able to." He'd reminisce on these days when they were long past.

"It has been quite the year. To do any less than a full day's activities would be a disgrace for how you managed through it all." A party however was too generous. More apt was calling it a day out. "We've had a few too many gatherings on other's terms. We'll just be touching base with the lords, your mother has already saddled up."

That attitude, as carefree as ever, earned the young man a small tap on the head with the brush. "If you've no interest in another gift... I suppose." It wasn't as if it was a new thing, it had just been far too long.

"If we don't come quick she'll take off without us." The boy's curls were gently fluffed up before he stepped back from him, satisfied with his work.

#[the way in which the snow falls as we rest]#[ic]

the way in which the snow falls as we rest || sylvain & matthias

Sylvain had never been one to sleep in, despite many days of being late to class if not missing it altogether only to blame it on nights spent wandering around downtown with a girl or two on his arm. Regardless of what hour his head finally laid upon the pillow, he’d wake up shortly before sunrise without fail- now whether he’d actually get up or decide to stay in bed lazing around depended on how he wanted his day to be.

Today was almost the exception to that rule. He had just arrived home, the last memory of the day prior being making his way to the hallway leading to his bedroom door and the rest a blur as sleep took over almost immediately. Undisturbed by dreams or nightmares, Sylvain slept like a rock.

“Mmmhn…” A weak groan pushed past his lips, eyes still struggling to open as he spotted the silhouette of his father. Right, he was home but he did have work to do. “I’m going, I’m going…”

Pushing himself off the bed regardless of whether he was actually fully awake or not, the ginger stretched his arms high before picking the coat. “So full of energy this early, you gotta sleep in sometimes Father.” The loose joke was followed by a light laugh.

@crevassier

"I think you'll find that extra energy spent nicely elsewhere." It had been a difficult schedule, intentional on the Margrave's part. The ride the day before was taxing and put to test both of their abilities. Today hardly held promise of anything else.

Rising, his son's hair is as unruly as it always is. Try as he might to ignore it, he leads him to the vanity and seats him.

"Do you recall the day it is?"

Bristles slid through well cared for hair and only caught on the odd tangle. Dexterous hands made quick work of each one until it could easily make its way through all.

#[the way in which the snow falls as we rest]#[support: sylvain]#[ic]

the flowers are more pressing than the weeds... || matthias & greil

Removing his own gloves didn't quite help. In fact, it made him realize that his hands were warm and that he was starting to sweat. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.

"Didn't you say the wind was picking up?" Greil said as he began unclasping the belt holding his coat in place, eyes fixed to the ground. Even if Matthias had noticed his behavior, they were still going to freeze if they didn't have a source of heat. "Are you suggesting we make use of those flowers?"

He's not entirely sure if they would even help in this situation.

"There's no harm in it." Not from what he'd heard at least. He pulls the flowers and sets them down close by the couch. Although they were doing... something or another, it seemed as if the petals themselves were actually slowly disappearing as time went on.

His gloves slipped off and when he looked over to the man, it looked as if they were both beginning to feel something or another from these plants.

"I could light a fire to make us a small brew but I don't recall them being noted for any sort of taste. Just... a filling feeling." Sweating at a time like this meant perhaps they'd picked too many. There was likely a sweet spot of a ratio between warmth and sweating buckets. He wonders if there's too bad of an after effect...

losojos-decupido

they paid me in woims (they paid him in woims)

mission board: excavation | lance +1

losojos-decupido

fogado has only been in burrowhaven for the length of a day, and most of that time has been spent scoping out information from the locals. the odd dark pockets give him plenty of space to hide, and a burlap cloak does wonders to remove him from any sort of public interest. it's just him, the shadows, and the odd burrowhavenite.

rarely he will directly solicit information, but it's very rare! for people that he doesn't know and for people that do not know him, it's best if fogado keeps a distance. the issues grow where he is missing context that nobody wants to discuss---like, for example, why everyone seems to have such a fascination with the worms. they're just worms, right?

a few days prior, fogado finally broke his vow of silence to ask someone what the deal was with the worms... only to get an inquisitive eye in response. that's no good; now he's put himself under scrutiny. " oh, sorry, is that not good manners to talk about? " he'd asked then, arms behind his head to push his hood over his eyes. best if he isn't recognized. " my bad! apologies for the misstep, brother, i'll do better next time! "

but he doesn't try to do better. he tries to better hide... but the next time he comes to burrowhaven, all eyes are on him. hostile eyes. that guy must have told his friends about what the weird kid in the hood was doing.

...this is kind of bad.

" heh heh. heyyy, can't we talk this out? we can do that, can't we...? "

@cielenruine

Anytime information gathering was involved, it was a coinflip for how it'd end up. No matter what, someone was getting hurt. Who and under what circumstances had yet to be seen.

Matthias was satisfied with staying on reconnaissance. Call it a holdover if one wanted, but much easier was it to grab and run these days. He almost wondered if he should try and rework such a strategy into a working defensive.

He keeps tabs of the students who take on the task and when the fire of torches begin to line the streets, and too many people seem to congregate in one area, its time to round them up.

The voice he hears as he approaches is familiar and sends his nerve on their highest edges. He rushes in low and his shoulder rams into Fogado's side while his arm holds his legs in place and he simply keeps running with him in tow.

"Unfortunately, this is an issue far past that now." And worst of all, most paths out had been entirely covered. It takes a moment of retracing a mental map before he finally manages to duck into a corner by an overhang.

"You didn't get hurt, did you?"

#[they paid me in woims (they paid me in woims)]#[ic]#[support: fogado]#//:ooo:

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