cherchez la femme

I swear to you, Gerome, that won't happen this time. I'll never leave you.

[plegify]

Was that truly eccentric? He has been treated as something strange for the entirety of his life; as a result, certain aspects of him were skewed, demented, all neatly hidden with a smile. But, there was something simple that resided within focusing on the present, instead of mulling away on the past. 

“To find my way home!” As expected, Cherche’s intuition guides her to the correct answer before Henry replies. “I’ve never been to this part of the city before,” the mage adds, as he rises to his feet, his cape gently lifting off of the ground. ”And I don’t remember my way back… This plant wasn’t very helpful, either.”

“I see.” A pale red gaze falls upon the affectionate creature next to her, examining her size, her stature, to see if her size was the only thing that had been affected. He reaches out with a gloved hand, holding it in front of her to allow her to recognize his presence, then lifts up, running his hand along the scales on her back.

“Of course I agree, Cherche.” His smile, radiant and content, beams up at the wyverness, dividing his attention between listening to her and lavishing Minerva with adoration. ”I’m glad you understand! People generalize animals all the time, thinking that they’re all the same! But they’re like people, you know?”

“And I think that’s beautiful.”

[domestiquer]

      ❝I knew you'd think so too, Henry! I believe most creatures have their own quaint features, yes, it's rather lovely, if I do say so myself.❞ Her tone is light and gentle, glad that the two can share this view together despite hers being only slightly different. She's always met people that constantly referred to Minerva as a pet, or even a servant, when she's simply family to her and it's not something she tends to take lightly.

      She smiles at Henry as he pets Minerva, thinking back to all their talks about such wonderful animals and conversations involving the wyvern herself. The Plegian was definitely not one of the first people she'd have ever expected to befriend so easily, still, she's glad for their camaraderie  and the bond they share.

      ❝But, in any case...❞ She digresses back to the topic from before, looking around their surroundings and observing the area. ❝You wished to go back home, correct? Please, allow me to escort you back. Home is a long way from here, isn't it?❞ While knowing that Henry must mean his assigned apartment in the city, she can't help but reference back to their real world--somewhere she misses rather terribly.

      ❝Now, now, if you tell me where it is, Minerva and I would be pleased to come with you.❞ 

[plegify]

Henry has always had a strange talent for communicating with nature, whether it be flowers, trees, ants… You name it, he could probably talk to it— within given reason, of course: as long as it was alive, communication was viable. Once it withered, however… He was a dark mage by occupation, but he disliked dipping into that range of his powerful sorcery, unless it was to help out a friend.

And here he is, crouching down to talk to a plant; though it would be best to ask a plant that’s been in growth for longer, such as a tree, or even a crow, if available, none were accessible to him. He asks, and as he crouches down to listen, he hears more than one voice— one belonging to one of his fellow human comrades.

“Cherche!” Eagerly, he smiles up at the woman, and gestures towards a small plant, growing between the crevices of the pavement. “I’m a bit lost, you see… I was just asking this weed for instructions.”

“Ooh, it’s good to see you again! And Minerva, too— oh?” His tone rises sharply in question, his head tipping to one side, perplexed by the wyvern’s sudden downgrade in size. ”The last time I checked, she was huuuuuge!” He holds out his arms up in the air, to amplify the depth of his words. “What happened to her?”

[domestiquer]

      She should've known right from the start that the strange man she found muttering to flowers is one of her comrades! It doesn't even come off as a shock to her that Henry has such an eccentric hobby, as strange as he is. ❝Hm? Instructions for what, if you don't mind my asking?❞ If it's instructions on how to arrive at a certain destination, Cherche would be more than happy to help a friend, especially one who can easily see the beauty of her precious wyvern. Ah, speaking of which...

      ❝Minerva is... having a rather rough time, I'd say.❞ She begins her explanation with her typical smile. ❝Of course, I don't know all of the details, but as far as I'm concerned, those who brought us here turned my dear Minerva into what she is now!❞  Initially far from pleased, the two found it much easier to adjust to this size change than originally thought. Still, it's rather tough to remember that Minerva is just not the big creature she was in the past!

      ❝Yes, well, I deeply miss her charming size. She's still absolutely adorable, still, wouldn't you agree?❞ She reaches down, petting the smaller creature with a light laugh. ❝However, I believe she was so much cuter at her original size. Nonetheless, her beauty remains.❞ 

[domestiquer]

      Flying 15 feet off the ground for a few minutes isn't exactly the typical amount of exercise Cherche has with Minerva, and with so many people concentrated into these cities, it's a bit difficult to keep track of each other. So, unfortunately, they've both been forced to downgrade to a simple daily walk--it's nice, but not nearly as fun or enjoyable as soaring through the skies.

      In the midst of her stroll, however, she stumbles upon a young man crouched on the ground. Though, he doesn't appear to be in any sort of pain, his practice of muttering to himself (or so it seems) is rather odd, but as she gets a closer look, she can easily see the familiar, white hair and unique clothing of her good friend--

      ❝Henry? Is that you?❞ She peers down at him, watching him as he continues mumbling strange things. ❝My, in all my months of residence here, I had no idea you were with us!❞

[paladinistic]

     Wheezes very fastly..

[domestiquer]

      ❝Young man, are you alright?❞ 

[domestiquer]

♕ poor you!

[concelo]

He sits on the other side of the couch, with his back straight, his arms still as crossed as they were before. The expression upon his face is unreadable, hidden in visibility by the mask resting on his visage, though turbulent thoughts rest underneath. 

At her bright apology, he gently shakes his head, murmuring soft, but curt, words in return. ”It’s fine.” The last thing he’d want her doing now is serving him; even in his time, Cherche had always been one to consider the well-being of others before her own health. A ‘hero’ was what the villagers called her; an overworking, non-present mother was what he thought of it. That was why she had gone from village to village during his youth, helping them ward off Risen instead of spending time with him, that was why—

…she had left him.

“I would not want to leave now, out of all times.” His tone is scornful, as a weary sigh leaves him. He contemplates; his voice carries a different sound, a more reflective one. ”Many a fortnight have I spent wondering what I could have done differently. Could I, at my young age, have broken character and begged you not to leave camp that day? Could I have done something to keep you occupied, instead of allowing you to leave, never to return?”

“There is no doubt that my mother was a great person. Like you, she was kind. Her warmth touched many, and inspired many more. I would say that the townspeople understood her kindness more than I did, for we did not spend much time together.” His hand curls into a fist, as he tries to keep his composure together, despite how he feels it slipping apart by the second. The more of his mother he recalls, the more he struggles, but he continues.

“The woman who sits before me is an imposter.” He comments, scathingly, gritting his teeth. While he understands that his anger is misguided, he can’t help releasing years of pent-up grief. ”You bear her image, but you cannot provide me with the answers that I desire. But… you would know yourself better than anyone else.” 

He leans over to rest his elbows on his knees, hands shifting upwards to bear the weight of his mask, slick with his sorrow, but leaving his features hidden between his fingers, for he wishes not to show her such a disgraceful face.

“Why did she leave me? Why was she never around? Did she… not…

         …love me enough to want to stay with me?”

[domestiquer]

      She listens carefully to his words, taking note of the hurt in his voice as he speaks of the pain that continued to haunt him since childhood. She had no idea of the trauma he'd gone though--she couldn't even begin to imagine the feelings and emotions he felt during his younger years. Still, she listened carefully, a twinge of heartache hits her as Gerome keeps talking; switching from one topic to the next. 

      ❝Oh, Gerome...❞ Cherche whispers under her breath, wincing at the imagery of a younger boy so desperately clinging onto the hope of his mother's return. ❝I am so sorry.❞ Though she figures her words probably don't mean much to the other, sincerity is laced throughout her sentences and her eyes are filled with sorrow. 

      ❝While it is a knight's duty to insure the safety of others... No child deserves to be left alone by their mother like that... And certainly not you.❞ A small sigh escapes her lips, feelings of frustration over herself from her son's period quickly builds up inside her. Though, she isn't necessarily angry at his real mother for not sticking by his side all this time--after all, she had her own duties to fulfill and by what he has told her, she had done a fine job of accomplishing her task to protect others. She just wishes she could've given the best for Gerome, because that's what he deserves.

      ❝You may call me an impostor, dislike me, refuse me all you want, but that does not change the fact that you are my son.❞ Despite his ill thoughts of her, Cherche refuses to give up on him so easily; she cares for Gerome far too much to just let him go like that. She may not be his real mother, nor is she able to give him back the fond memories of childhood that were so abruptly taken from him, but she'll make sure to ease his troubled heart as much as she can. ❝I am not the mother you know nor am I even the mother you want... But I'm here for you and I swear to help you through your struggles. You don't have to carry such a heavy burden by yourself.❞

      With a her gentle hands, she brings the male's head back up from hiding, gingerly removing the mask which concealed his tear-stained eyes from her. ❝She must have left to help pave a better future for you, helping those villagers and ridding the world of risen--it was all to make the world a suitable place for her child... She loved you-- I love you, Gerome.❞ She reaches out a single hand to cup his cheek, brushing across the bottom of his eye to wipe the tears from it as she keeps the veil tight in her other grip. ❝This mask in my hand was made to hide so much, but no longer. I shall protect you and accomplish what your world's Cherche failed to do. Even if you don't accept me, I've already acknowledged you as my son whether you come from that world or the next. I'll never leave you again, so there's no need to cry anymore.❞

[tovarischded]

Older than hills and more useless than nets [Open/Intro]

[tovarischded]

As Gregor’s arms begun to tire trying to hold up the machine he felt his lower back once again begin to ache. Luckily, the wyvern rider he called a comrade was much stronger than she looked, and without a word and one heavy shove later managed to push the whole thing back upright. He tried to relax his arms, silently grateful for her appearance.

The sellsword straightened himself up as best as he could and rubbed his right side, trying his best to play down the pain as best he could. he begun looking at the machine again, almost as if the whole incident never happened.

"Hah! Cherche’s worry is kind on heart, like salve on wound, yes? But Gregor is careful plenty, he just found strange statue to be shocking like lightning! Is like big cupboard with no door! Place is strange like maze."

The middle aged man looked back to Cherche, and then to the tiny dragon that once stood thrice his size. He ran his spare hand through his short hair and gave an rather heaty chuckle at the both of them.

"Hah! Minerva is cute like button on baby now! Gregor think that she not being the one doing the carrying now! Is Cherche been here long? Gregor is finding place to be filled with many strange things - he knows not what to do!"

[domestiquer]

      She smiles at the male and his cluelessness to his surroundings. Still, she's not one to judge as she's been in the same shoes as the other, er... Well not exactly. In fact, she's still just as lost as Gregor is in this new world they've suddenly found themselves in!

      ❝Why, your words are kind and taken to heart, Gregor.❞ With a light giggle, she brings a hand to cup her cheek, glad for the kind compliments from the mercenary. ❝I'm afraid that's no ordinary statue. I believe that's what they call a "vending machine".❞ Cherche is equally unfamiliar with the terminology and machinery that come with this city, though she's trying to understand, it's a bit difficult to get right the first couple of tries.

      ❝Well, I believe my dear Minerva has been quite cute before--one would even call her the cutest little wyvern around! However, this change has made it much easier for me to carry her around.❞ She muses lightly with a bemused chuckle, pushing back a strand of hair or two behind her ear. ❝My apologies, I've not been here for much longer than you have, I believe. But, if it pleases you, perhaps we could venture together for a bit?❞

[domestiquer]

♕ poor you!

[concelo]

His face lights up in remembrance, if only for a moment— his mother had always been fond of the oddest things, from exquisite handcrafts to the slimiest of bugs. (The latter of which, at age 5, would send him cowering behind the nearest tent flap in terror, wondering how on earth his mother could possibly find such gross creatures ‘cute’.) Even in the future, she always had the tendency to overdistract herself with peculiarities that seldom struck the fancy of others. He hides a grin; some things really did never change, even through the passage of time.

“I see… Perhaps, one day, if things turn out well… I shall take you to peruse these stores. But that is a suggestion, and nothing more. Do not make anything more out of it.” Though his words are tentative, and he ends his sentence gruffly, the idea of visiting these shops with her, and seeing her happy… it would mean more to him, than anything in the world.

Upon hearing her area of residence, however, he blinks in surprise, at her close proximity. “Interesting… I have been assigned to Z-3; therefore, accompanying you would be no extra effort, on my part.” He steps forward, his dark cape swishing behind him, turning back once to see if she would follow, before he proceeds along the sidewalk, with Minerva keeping up behind the both of them. He makes several turns here and there, though he makes no attempt to rekindle additional conversation, until he reaches the general apartment housing of Sector 3. His quick gait comes to a halt, if only to deliberate, as he taps a finger thoughtfully against his chin. The apartments were arranged alphabetically, so if he was at that end, then she had to be…

A few steps more are all it takes before they stand before a door; 'L-3' is engraved to the right of it. Here, he stops and turns towards her, inquiring for her mode of entrance. ”I assume that they have given you a key?”

[domestiquer]

      His offer to take her shopping startles her a bit, however she doesn't show her surprise. Cherche never expected him to make such a proposal, though she isn't complaining one bit as she nods lightly to his statements and follows his steps. Walking together, she respects his silent wishes of not conversing between the two until they reach her apartment.

      The building itself is rather large, hopefully to accommodate to the needs of its residents, though she has nothing much to say about its appearance until entering the superstructure. As Minerva trots along beside her, Cherche peers around the area and examines the interior; it's no palace, but the living conditions seem to beat the barracks only slightly (as far as she can tell).

      As they bring themselves to a halt in front of a door she presumes is her housing, Cherche fumbles around to find the key she received from those strange people and unlocks the lock to open the door and holds it open to allow Gerome to enter first before following suit.

      ❝Well, we're here now. You bothered to take me all the way here, so why not make yourself at home?❞ She points to the couch in the middle of the room, motioning for him to sit and relax in the comfort of her new home. Without waiting for a response, she heads towards the piece of furniture without hesitation, sitting on the far right hand end of it, crossing her legs in a refined manner. ❝My apologies, if this were an environment I was familiar with, I'd have brought something for us to drink!❞ Her smile is soft as she folds her hands on her lap. 

      ❝I was thinking we could have our talk here.❞ The statement is spoken in a soft tone as she looks down towards the floor rather than at Gerome himself. Her assumption (or rather, hope) was that, from how their conversation ended earlier, they'd continue it in the privacy of her home. ❝Because you said our conversation wasn't one meant for public ears, I supposed you wouldn't mind speaking here. However, if I'm wrong, feel free to exit as you please.❞

[domestiquer]

LEGAL NAME: Cherche (lastname)

NICKNAME[S]: N... one...

AGE: [redacted]

DATE OF BIRTH: October 17

GENDER | SPECIES: Female | Human

PLACE OF BIRTH: Dukedom of Rosanne

CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: L-3

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English probably

EDUCATION: haha

OCCUPATION: Wyvern Rider/Lord, Virion's knight

CRIMINAL RECORD: nah son

DRINK | SMOKE | DRUGS: Probably not

LIKE[S]: Minerva, close comrades, trustworthiness, HER SON, "cute" things like bugs and other strange things

DISLIKE[S]: People who diss Minerva or Gerome 

FEAR[S]: Leaving with regrets, someone stepping on a cute bug before she gets to see it :(, Minerva getting horribly injured :((, her son hating her forever :(((

PERSONALITY TRAITS: Typically kind and charming though rather terrifying when you get right down to it

{ P H Y S I C A L   I N F O R M A T I O N }

HAIR COLOR: Pinkish

EYE COLOR: also pinkish

HEIGHT: whoa

WEIGHT: WHOA

TATTOOS: None 

{ F A M I L Y   I N F O R M A T I O N }

SIBLING[S]: n/a

PARENT[S]: n/a

CHILDREN: GEROME and Minerva

PET[S]: Minerva is no met

{ R E L A T I O N S H I P   I N F O R M A T I O N }

SEXUAL PREFERENCE: hetero

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM????????// should bE MARRIED????MAYBE??  i dont know who my husband is

SINCE WHEN: Uhm

[tovarischded]

Older than hills and more useless than nets [Open/Intro]

[tovarischded]

The man shook the machine with all his might, hoping that whatever it contained would magically reveal itself to him. He didn’t even see his fellow Shepard and her shrunken steed sneak up behind until-

❝You just might hurt yourself!❞

… Too late. The last pull the mercenary gave caused the boxy machinery to topple forward. In an instant the main put both of his hands out to try to stop is crushing him. The position was painful, and as Gregor turned his head to see who had called him the beads of sweat were already starting to form and make his forehead glisten.

"… Ah, is good friend Cherche and… tiny puppy dog sized Minerva! Is trapped here too, yes? Not as trapped as Gregor is right now though. Oy, luckily Gregor’s back is like sturdy mountain even in tornedo!"

Oh Naga the pain…

[domestiquer]

      With the sound of the machine crashing down onto the male (or maybe it was his spine breaking), Cherche winces involuntarily and quickens her pace to meet the other. Brushing a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, she looks down at Gregor with a somewhat concerned yet intrigued look on her face.

      ❝Oh my... That seems rather unpleasant...❞ She mutters to herself under her breath, though still loud enough for the fallen man to have heard. ❝Would you like some assistance?❞ Without waiting for an answer, as she thought it's pretty obvious what he'd say anyway, the rider leans down to pick grasp the edges of the vending machine. One large heave later, she manages to put the object back into its rightful place against the wall, dusting off her clothing afterwards.

      ❝Goodness, Gregor, you ought to be more careful next time!❞ She mildly scolds her comrade for his foolish blunder, ❝However, I'm glad you're alright now! And to reply to your previous statement and question, yes, Minerva and I have unfortunately found ourselves here; though I must say it's not as bad as I thought.❞

[tovarischded]

Older than hills and more useless than nets [Open/Intro]

Gregor had travelled the world and seen many amazing sights; he had also fought many people during those travels for a day’s wage. But here in Hive he had met his match.

A vending machine.

The strange statue was just propped up next to a building, and the sellsword was strangely entranced by what appeared to be food behind the window… but how would he get to brightly coloured paper inside? There was no latch to open the window, and knocking his fist onto the pane did naught but give the man an aching hand. It was all very confusing.

"Is like getting pearl from oyster with wooden spoon! Perhaps if Gregor give it the jiggling…"

[domestiquer]

      Being here for only a few short days, Cherche has found herself slowly becoming adjusted to the wonders of the city. Luckily, even Minerva, who is almost always by the wyvern rider's side, has also gotten used to the new atmosphere despite being apprehensive at first. Even so, many things involving the new setting are still mysteries to her, and she never fails to be amazed by such sights.

      Like little ol' Gregor having a bit of a tussle with the local "vending machine", or so she's heard it's called.

      ❝I'd be careful if I were you, Gregor.❞ Her tone is light as she saunters towards the other with her dog-sized Minerva by her side. ❝You just might hurt yourself!❞

[domestiquer]

♕ poor you!

[concelo]

“No, you misunderstand my words.” Quick to correct her, he grimaces, gritting his teeth together; he recalls, fondly, bitterly, the Cherche from his time. ”I loved my mother’s smile — she was everything, to me. Whenever she smiled at me, my entire world felt right. Her smile, her love for me… They were warmer than the brightest sun.” He pauses a little, afterwards, and the mask obscuring his eyes from view hide the unspoken memories that still linger in his mind. 

“But, you are not my mother.” He speaks firmly, resolutely, and there is no compassion upon his hidden expression, though he strains vehemently to keep his voice level. “The way you look at me… no matter who I was to the future you, you currently regard me as an acquaintance, and similarly, I consider you nothing more.” Alas, what was the point of progressing into further detail? He could talk all he wanted, but she was someone else. There were no memories of his childhood that she would magically dredge up, because they did not exist within her to begin with.

“Common decency would have it that I have no qualms in showing you around; I do not need to fabricate an excuse to assist a comrade in need.” A faint grin, scarcely detectable, plays upon his lips as he reaches to scratch the smaller wyvern behind the neck (and how radiantly content his mother looks, holding the creature in her arms), though the smile soon vanishes as he notices its presence on his face. He drops his hand, rests it back by his side, and glances back once, to make sure his wyvern was still resting where he had left her, before turning back to Cherche. ”Where do you reside? I shall escort you there, if you will condone it. Our conversation is not fit for the public to overhear.”

Of course, if Cherche were to let him, he would walk beside her. Minerva could trod along behind him.

[domestiquer]

      She nods, understanding that she is unable to to properly fill the void his real mother left in his heart. Still, if possible, she would love to be in his life because after all, he is still technically her son, just from a different time. ❝Of course I refer to you as an acquaintance. However, I'd much prefer to consider you more than just that.❞ And so she leaves it at that, hoping to be able to expand further on her thoughts and wishes at a later time.

      ❝You're as charming as ever...❞ Her words slowly falter as she finishes her sentence, admiring the way Gerome smiles (even if it's just a slight tug against his lips) as he interacts with Minerva. Even if he's not someone this smaller wyvern is familiar with, she seems happy enough to receive this gentle attention, and likewise for her son who also appears to enjoy this show of affection. ❝It's good luck I ran into you today. I was, in fact, searching for a way to my new home but I had gotten far too distracted by all these adorable crafts and whatnot they had strewn about.❞ She begins as she gently sets down the creature once Gerome retracts his arm back to his side. ❝In any case, I was placed into an area by the name of L-3, I believe.❞

      Cherche's smile fades for only a slight moment, feeling a slight nervousness when he alludes to continuing the conversation they were having earlier. Of course, she wouldn't mind that at all-it's even something she was hoping would come by eventually-but she's just not sure what the outcome would be after their talk. Even so, her smile returns and possibly even bigger than ever as she nods to him and motions for him to lead the way. ❝After you. ❞

[domestiquer]

♕ poor you!

[concelo]

To look upon his mother’s face again, he remembers everything that he loved about her— the way she beamed at him, how her smile could fix any problem, as it did when he was a child. It tugs at his heartstrings, and it makes him want to run up to her and rest in her comfortable embrace; but he could do no such thing now, when he had grown far beyond the child that he had been, and the decade of existence he had spent without her was the only one that he wanted to know.

“Your assumptions would be correct— I have been here for beyond a month. Though, this premise is not exactly a ‘nation’, per se… It is more of a large, urban city.” He taps a finger against his other arm, thoughtfully. Yes… that was probably right… It was called Hive City, after all. Ridding himself of further thought, he clears his throat. “She, and your ring, as you know… they were all I had left of you back then— and they were all I had left of you here.”

A soft sigh, and then he mutters something quietly, to the side, averting his eyes. ”At least she was there for me, when you weren’t.”

His voice wavers in tone, and he swallows the lump rising in his throat; but, as callously as his words are uttered, speaking to her in such a rude manner still guilts him, and his gaze hesitantly flickers back up, examining her still-cheerful features, before glancing back down.

“…Must you always smile like that?” His question is more of a whispered hiss now, as he turns his face away, folding his arms across his chest. He draws a breath; it is more audible than he’d thought it would be. ”Even in a time like this?”

[domestiquer]

      ❝Even though those events happened just as you say, I'm here now, aren't I?❞ Her expression remains static and her tone never falters even under his bitter words and cold remarks. She does, indeed, feel sorry for all that has happened to the poor boy in his future and for how she is not truly his mother, in a sense. Still, there isn't much she can really do for Gerome just yet, especially with how little they've spoken; sometimes it feels as though they're strangers.  ❝Do you not like this smile?❞ She replies back with an inquiry of her own, taking note of his discomfort and all the small quirks that become apparent as he roughly speaks against her.

      ❝There's nothing wrong with this time, or so I believe. In fact, I think it's a wonderful time to smile... After all, I'm able to have a nice conversation with you.❞

      Cherche lets out an amused chuckle, hoping to ease the dreary air around Gerome even just a bit. Normally, this would be a time where she assumes all somberness, but this just wasn't the right place in order to have such a conversation. The middle of a sidewalk near some vendors just simply isn't the time for such things anyway, she'd rather not have any bystanders poking their noses in where they don't belong.

      ❝You're much more talkative than you seem. It's rather pleasant❞ Even if the words spoken aren't entirely so. ❝But, in any case, you must be well acquainted with this "urban city". If you would be so kind, could show me around? If that displeases you, you can use that as a chance to grow used to my Minerva.❞ She brushes a few strands of hair behind her ears before reaching down to pick up her sized-down wyvern like a small child. ❝You said earlier that she comes from a time where she doesn't know you, right? I'm sure she'd grow accustomed to you quickly.❞

[domestiquer]

♕ poor you!

[concelo]

Thankfully, his wyvern had been granted an increase in size to that of a small car; and though flying was out of the question, he had soon discovered afterwards that she was just as efficient of a runner. He was no horseback soldier, but the limited mode of transportation would just have to suffice. Today, he traverses through the city streets — riding through with a large wyvern certainly eases traffic congestion, mostly because Minerva’s claws left little dents in the cars that were in their way. 

A scream is heard nearby; he ignores it. A wyvern’s roar is heard even closer, as if it stood several yards away from him, and he jumps, caught a bit off guard. He responds instantly, slackening the reins in his grip and allowing the leather straps to fall flat against her skin. Though his vision is limited, he knows Minerva’s call anywhere, and if that call had not come from his own wyvern, then it had come from…

He dismounts, climbing carefully off of her back and landing neatly on his two feet. His footsteps are cautious, but well-placed, as he approaches the other creature, nodding briefly at the woman next to her. Wordlessly, he crouches down, maintaining eye-level with the wyvern, and shows her his hand, before bringing it gently over her head, murmuring soothingly until she calms down. He remarks, softly. ”She is from a time where she does not know me, after all.”

It is after this that he rises to his feet to properly acknowledge her. Surely, one would expect him to be kinder to his own mother. And it was not as if he did not love her— it was the opposite: he loved her too much, that he wasn’t willing to risk remembering how to love her again.

“Mot— No…” He takes his words back, with a shake of his head. ”Cherche…”

His tone is frosty and formal, and holds no tones of warmth. ”I trust that you have been well.”

[domestiquer]

     She was unable to get a good look at the other's face with how preoccupied she had been with Minerva at the time, though now diverting her attention elsewhere, Cherche's cheerful demeanor drops in surprise upon the familiar appearance and voice of her own son. It's not as though she despises his presence near her, she loved him with all her heart, but even then she feels as though that's not enough. Still, the rider's smile returns just as quickly as it left, glad to be able to see her dear child once again.

     ❝Gerome...❞

     ❝... It's good to see you again.❞ She dismisses Gerome's cold speech, already used to his brooding nature from the passing comments he had made from time to time despite how annoying and saddening it could be for her. ❝It's just as you say; I have been faring well, thank you.❞ They've rarely had the chance to properly speak to each other so calmly outside of the battlefield; it always seems like the other just wanted to avoid her for the most part, which confused her greatly with how he still managed to travel to her time.

     But, perhaps she's been reading him incorrectly, he could have merely just wished to keep a distant relationship and only came back in order to help the future children of that world. 

     ❝You also appear to be well, and Minerva, also.❞ Cherche's gaze turns to the wyvern in Gerome's possession, nodding at her old partner and returning her attention to her son. ❝I am rather pleased to see you've been taking care of each other even in your time here. I suspect you've been a resident of this nation for far longer than I, correct?❞ 

[domestiquer]

♕ poor you! | intro/open

     Dear oh dear, what an odd little predicament the young wyvern rider has found herself in! This must be the first time in quit a while she's felt rather lost, and that just won't do at all. Somehow, she's stranded in a peculiar area with no idea how, and had just encountered these "Scientist" fellows; at least they gave her a place to stay and the ability to keep Minerva! Though, after that encounter, Cherche is sadly thrown out into the streets with an insufficient amount of information to go off of. Not knowing where her home lies, she somehow ends up in the midst of sector 4.

     Everything about this city-especially at first glance-simply amazed her from the new objects and materials just strewn about to the large, modern buildings that surrounded her very being. Still, even as curiosity and bewilderment built up inside her about such a mysterious setting, her concern for Minerva grew twice as much.

     She took note, earlier, of the other's difficulty adjusting to the new crowded sidewalks and the bustling streets along with the advancements. Not only this, but it appears as though said wyvern is wary of the presence of another, perhaps an attacker? The two have heard the news of some murderer walking free, mostly in what she believes is sector 1, but maybe the criminal wandered off into this place?

     With this thought kept in her mind, she continues on her merry way, heavily on guard, glancing at the odd displays and signs of festivities she's never encountered before with mere awe. One could say she was rather enjoying herself, that is, until a shriek is heard from another in the streets as Minerva lets out a bellowing cry and snaps at the one who screamed. Immediately, Cherche begins to calm her friend down after hitting her with her wooden axe to stop disturbing others.

     ❝My most sincere apologies.❞ Her tone is light as she speaks to the poor victim with her typical smile on her face.

     ❝You'll have to excuse my Minerva, she must have mistaken you for a suspicious person!❞

[oikawaas]

by シジマ

※Permission to upload this was given by the artist.

[exaltlucina]

ドラゴン一家 by くろまに

[domestiquer]

WHERE WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO VISIT ON YOUR PLANET?

Looking towards the strange object before her in a confused manner, Cherche deliberately ponders the question at hand. Where would she like to visit most? Well, to be frank, the answer is simple. With a small smile gracing her features, the wyvern rider speaks kindly to the other.

❝I wish to return to Rosanne and restore the country for its people.❞