heroism

[ indie ] [ rp blog ] [ fe:a owain ] "I'd slowly walk up the crumpled body of my comrade [...] And I'd say... BY THE GODS, I SHALL AVENGE YOU! And then, clutching their lifeless form tight, I'd burst into flames!" [ multiverse ] [ single ship ] [ read: rules ] tracking: #dubsword

[dubsword-blog]

[ OFFLINE ]

[anxious--archer-blog]

She has, become somewhat accustomed to the man's frivolous ranting. Not in a fashion as one might think, like most had rolled their eyes or ignored his clamorous bursts of energy. But, Noire had looked up to him. Like a younger sister would. She found hope, something she had been drained from since the attacks. They had left her, horribly alone, orphaned, and several remaining mental disorders, adding more to the gratuitous list.

Upon being asked the simplistic question, the archer seemed as if shaken from a daze, his speech inspiring her as always, before returning her back to the doldrums that were her life.

"I'm.... Okay, thank you, Owain" the girl answered timidly, a small smile at her lips.

[dubsword-blog]

    "Excellent!" says Owain, beaming at her. "You're quite welcome, Noire. I'm glad that the day has been kind to you-- if it had not, I would have forced it to do so, lest it face the wrath of my awesome power..."

    Noire has always been strangely appreciative of him compared to the most of the other people on campus. Severa would subject him to recurring mockery, Kjelle and Nah would constantly treat him like a child in a man's body, and Inigo would torment him as a sub-hobby. Along with Cynthia and Morgan, Noire at least seems to take him seriously as a person, if not as an actor.

    And he likes that. He likes Noire-- as a comrade, of course, for he wasn't as desperate as Inigo to prey on any maiden in the vicinity-- because she's truly nice to him. So, as thanks, the least he can do is look out for her.

    "Have you had lunch yet? It had completely slipped my mind that the sun had already opened the time to feast." This is true. He had been distracted far too much by the permeating silence.

[brokenexalt]

Lucina couldn’t help but nearly jump out of her skin when she heard Owain’s voice. While her guard had been up, perhaps her focus had been set on her watch that she just didn’t sense him coming. And her worry must have been set onto overdrive for all of that. It was truly getting to her.

"I promise I can handle this, cousin." She said, turning her head towards Owain. If anything, for my sanity.

[dubsword-blog]

    When Lucina puts her mind to something, there's no budging her. It's something that every one of them has had to learn the hard way, and even Owain himself, with his undying persistence, has given up on her borderline stubborn discipline at least once. In the end, all you can do with Lucina is comply-- and it wasn't like that before, in the raw memories that he checks in passing. And when she jumps at his presence, his decision has already been made clear.

    "Okay," he says with a faint smile, the faintest of smiles, a smile in bare denial of how weak it is. "I'll just stay here with you. Sleep is failing me anyway." Her promise is an empty one and they both know it; she's having a hard time handling herself alone. The least he can do is pretend that she's right-- he'll go the extra mile and forgive her beforehand. As a cousin, as a comrade, as a good hero should.

[dubsword-blog]

    { owain is one of the best muses because if i get carried away it's at least remotely ic > : D }

[anxious--archer-blog]

{ The silence, puts Noire on edge, as everything did. Today, no different than any other. }

{ She looks around anxiously, her eyes latching onto Owain. }

" I-Is anything wrong? "

[dubsword-blog]

    The stumble in the voice, along with the tone of it alone, tells him that it's Noire he's hearing-- fortunately, in one of her better moods. The lull of any day, for any amount of time, gets on his nerves; he knows first-hand that this world is not peaceful. To him, silence indicates danger. Noire's presence is, somehow, a blissful reassurance.

    "Oh, Noire!" Owain smiles in her direction, eyes lit up in happy surprise, shoulders sagging in relief. Together, it's as if he's deliberately put himself in an awkward slouch. "I'm fine. The day is without flaw, but, thus, uneventful. Oh, how the sun must tire of such boring theater presented in its halidom, when the moon has too much for its face to gaze upon-- such as that of my bloodlust, which has been called by the night as of late. As of now, under the pale of the sun, my sword hand has wondrously calmed. Should it act up, I advise you to stay back!"

    Then, he clears his throat. That may have been a bit too much. Since it's been such a lazy day, his improvisation skills are still rusty.

    "Er, how about you? Are you alright?"

[dubsword-blog]

insolent-heroine:

"Tch." Severa crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you serious? You really think you could take me in a fight O-lame?”

    'O-lame'? That had to hurt. Luckily for him, Owain has a wall of steel around his heart: his ridiculously persistent naivety, which may or may not be a facade for his choosy listening. 

    "Why else would I challenge you? I'm well aware of your unique clairvoyance in battle, but I believe that the providence of my exalted blood is of fair match.

    'Or are you dismissing our battle because your foresight has already informed you of the result?" The cheek of him today.

[brokenexalt]

Don’t mind her. She’s gonna keep her attention elsewhere, since she needs to keep her guard up as it is.

[dubsword-blog]

    "You look as if you're about to collapse," he says, and there's no hyperbole, no poetic license put to it. He bends around just to get a better look at her face, and it's not a pretty sight. If her fatigue isn't going to be the one to bring her down, her eye bags will.

    "I'll take your shift. Go rest."

[nightshade-the-demon-deactivate]

I want to _____ you.

[flourpicker-blog]

dubsword replied to your post:owain or yarne?

You’re DEAD TO ME…

   "I’d be sad about that if I didn’t already kill you." He didn’t actually do so, of course— it was just a hypothetical situation. Stop deluding yourself, Inigo.

[dubsword-blog]

    Next chapter of the Owain Dark saga: Inigo Gets His Ass Kicked.

[dubsword-blog]

    ( Surely it's quiet for a reason... )

[garbagebird]

halloween house party date with owain and cynthia

[blurbery]

I COULDN’T DECIDE LOL

anyways, i managed to squeeze in one first prompt before this weekend where i’ll have a lot of time to work on these.

[ofexaltedblood-blog]

  Spies? Kidnapping? Disguises? Wasn’t that a little much? Well, those sort of theatrics were something Chrom had learned to expect from Owain, at least. If he wasn’t used to how he acted by now, he might have dragged a hand down his own face in exasperation. Even still, the temptation to do so was strong. Naga give me strength, he inwardly sighed.

  “While I do agree that going at night would make selection much easier, we could likely handle any common thug who might be foolish enough to try and kidnap us, so disguises are hardly necessary. …Besides, I doubt that I could fit in one of Lissa’s dresses anyway.”

[dubsword-blog]

    Reluctant as he may seem to carry out Owain's allegedly flawless plan, Uncle Chrom does have a point. In the event that someone does try to assassinate either of them, they would be no match for the combined wits of two-- not just one, but two!-- members of the Ylissean House. With the advantages of the royal fighting style and Naga's blessing, disguises would be a tad unnecessary (and, with the latter advantage, somewhat unfaithful) for their endeavor.

    "I admire your confidence! Very well-- just be sure to re-energize yourself for our midnight journey, Uncle Chrom. We must be alive, alert, awake, enthusiastic for the trip. If you wish, I can bring some candied figs so that our stomachs may be satiate in the event that we hunger in our most instinctual form."

[dubsword-blog]

[ PICKAGOD: CONVENIENCE ]

[pickagod]

Owain’s question was extremely unexpected.  All of those theories - namely the suggestion of Frederick being raised by wolves, oh dear gods - were completely ridiculous.  Frederick liked to think of his life as plainly put, as if it were white icing on a one layer cake.  Although there were terribly sad aspects to his world that he’d always remember, the knight never wanted to see his previous days as tragic.

The knight wanted to live his years joyfully full and thankful towards the blessings of Naga and his family.  "I’m afraid to disappoint you Owain but no not at all," Frederick replied after taking the mirrored mop from him.  He expected the other soldier to follow suit as his steps made way out of the kitchen and back out to the dining room.  If that was not so his words of re-telling idle memories was folly and about as ridiculous as his ally’s question.

"I was born in the Halidom of Ylisse.  Commonly so for the majority of knights and soldiers that now serve the country," Frederick began.  His tale was not one that he felt used to telling.  No one ever asked or cared to wonder and honestly Frederick never blamed them.  His gaze was down turned at the floor as he leisurely mopped at the soupy pool. 

He cleared his throat before continuing.  "My parents were unsuccessful farmers and could not afford to take care of my well being.  I requested to go through the standard passage to knighthood when I was of age eight.  I lived in the castle with your aunt, uncle, and mother through that span of time."

There was much more to the story of living with the trio.  They became his family.  The love in his heart for the three of them was obvious.  Frederick decided to spare Owain of the gooey details unless unexpectedly asked for.

[dubsword-blog]

    It's a rather odd scene from afar, with Owain following Sir Frederick around like an enthusiastic puppy. With the the boy's face lit up like a Christmas tree, blush and shining eyes alike, and the look of confusion that seemed to recur on Sir Frederick's face, it's comical to any onlooker out of context. Self-consciousness was never a strong characteristic of Owain (and whether anyone a good or bad sentiment about that, he would never know), however, so on his one-track mind was one thing: to milk the truth of valiance from Sir Frederick's every word.

    Here comes the surprise: Sir Frederick was not, in fact, raised by wolves. In retrospect, it's not that shocking, but to find that the knight had no particularly tragic or awe-inducing event in his life had definitely been unexpected. To this, there's an air of intrigue, of curiosity. Is that really it?

    "And then? After that? Did you ever kill an enemy soldier to find that he was actually your long lost twin brother? Did you ever get trapped at sea only to get washed up on a desolate island?"

    "Anything? That can't be it..."

[hergallant-blog]

♔ FIRE FIGHTERS:

.      Nervous. Scared. Unprepared. Those were the words swimming through Cynthia’s mind. She can’t shake the thought of everyone being mad at her— Including Owain. Nothing was going her way today. First, her lance, and now, her steed. It couldn’t get any worse than it is.

        As she was nearing her tent, she spotted Owain, holding some buckets of water in his hand. The look on Owain’s face was something she’d rarely see— And she could tell that he was scared too.

       "Owain..!! I’m so so sorry! I couldn’t find my pegasus! The whole stable was deserted!” She cried out, trying to hide the shakiness in her voice, but to no avail. She didn’t want to look like an utter failure in front of her fellow justice cabal member, but there was nothing she could do.

                                     “Help me bring this, we’ll walk.”

       ”A..Alright! I got it!” She quickly grabbed the buckets Owain was handling, and hurried off to where the fire was, trying her best not to spill the bucket’s contents.

[dubsword-blog]

    Next to Cynthia, Owain runs, the tree roots his hurdles and the front of his shirt his shield. Gods, his eyes burn like the fire in front of them, except they produce water instead of imminent death, except that his eyes are easily quenched when he blinks; when he blinks in the fire's direction, it just doesn't go away. He can deal with the undead, he can deal with an army outnumbering them tenfold, and he can somehow deal with an impending apocalypse, but when it comes to a simple forest fire-- something Mother used to tell him stories about, often featuring Sir Frederick himself-- he's having a hard time breathing, and it's not because of the smoke.

    Maybe it's because this time he's alone, he thinks, but then one of his friends is right there next to him. In that case, it's his job to make sure he doesn't end up alone, because it's not as if Cynthia has had to deal with anything like this before either-- at least he has second-hand experience.

    "Cover your muzzle," chokes out Owain, because she isn't doing anything of the sort. "Keep your head low." While their main mission here is to save the camp, who's going to save them if it's just him standing next to Cynthia's unconscious body?

    No one, probably, he thinks to himself. But the words are quickly dissolved; pessimism doesn't save lives.

[the-scariest-violinist-deactiva]

"I’ll use sentimental in the way I want to use sentimental!” Brady said as he pouted once again. “And i didn’t use that dumb tome for tissues, are you soft in the head?!… It was a birthday gift, and i have it stored in a special place!”

Still resting his elbow on Owain’s shoulder, Brady groaned as well “Can ya at least let me walk on my own two feet? What would people think if they saw ya carryin’ me like this. It’s embarassing.”  Having his hind-quarters shown to the entire city was not one of the things Brady was looking forward to.

[dubsword-blog]

    "Heh. You, a mere mortal, assume that I, Owain Dark, scion of legend, am going to grant you even a speck of mercy this time around? In my presence, you should be honored to humble yourself! ... But you're getting kind of heavy." With that, he puts Brady down in front of him, finding it hard to hold back his laughter at how red his face is. Once or twice, he lets out a chortle.

   "Just promise you'll keep up, Brady of Unrealistically Quick Fatigue, or I'll be forced to carry you into the pub."

[clericia-blog]

█ ▌█ ▌█ ▌ { ♔ } —

            As she listens to him speak, she can feel her annoyance bubble up once more. It’s not a bad annoyance, but more like the motherly frustration that comes with a child providing needless excuses. Brows furrow as if to convey this, the blonde’s lips in a frown as she shakes her head, eyes glaring daggers (filled with love of course! What else could they be, right?).

    ❝ Hmph, you should just nod and agree with me! ❞ she points out, another huff escaping her. Honestly, her worries should have been turned to getting wrinkles because with the amount she was doing right now, coupled with the many she has made due to war, they were sure to form. A shame too, seeing as Lissa was still quite young.

    “And anyway, even if effects aren’t immediate, if you’re feeling woozy or something of the sort, you should be alarmed! That’s how illnesses begin! It’s a slight cough and then you find out you have a disease!” Oh dear, now she was in one of her medical rants. “You don’t want to find out you have some sort of fatal illness that’ll render you useless and chain you to bed, right? Or find out you have internal bleeding in your stomach even though you thought it was just stomach pains, right? No, right?”

    A finger is raised in the air and waved around, as if she were giving an educational lesson, and to be honest, all her nagging was being quite informational. “That’s why you have to be more careful! Staffs won’t always be the cure to everything,”

[dubsword-blog]

    Owain nearly lets out a groan, but as Lissa takes her motherly stance-- a finger in the air, her eyebrows knit together, and a stare that had a better chance at piercing him than the Risen did-- he stops himself. There's something about the look on her face that strikes him as familiar, something that makes him imagine a momentary palpitation. Of course-- Mother hasn't scolded him like that in what feels like a lifetime. It's been ages since he's actually had a present mother, and even now, when he's a fully grown man-- at least physically-- and this Lissa isn't the mother he once knew, she still treats him like a son. It's actually like they're family.

    Maybe before, he would've been really exasperated, but for some reason, his response to the nagging she's giving him is to turn the corners of his mouth up a little. And then, turn his mouth up as a whole. It's rather ridiculous to look upon the two, with Lissa glaring daggers in his direction, and Owain smiling of all things, as if nothing is wrong.

    "Alright, Mother," he says, the smile still etched upon his face. "I won't do it again, promise. You have my word-- my Exalted word! Well, maybe I might forget once in a while... but then I'll remember eventually!"