mourning girlhood .

girl i'm bored let's kill him » dorothea & hilda

The morning after the Ethereal Ball, a message via messenger owl finds you. It comes unmarked, no indicator of who the sender might possibly be, and when you open the letter, it reads: “I have a compromising video of what you did last night. Meet me at the Amiibo Gazebo after the sun sets today or else.” Do you dare?

"It was just delivered to me anonymously." Hilda turned the page over in her hands, eyes searching for any more information but coming up short. She frowned. "Just before I waved you over..."

The change in Dorothea's tone from her greeting to her realisation was comforting, in a way. Hilda hadn't quite reached the stage of outrage yet, and it was heartwarming to have a friend by her side to get angry on her behalf.

Now that she thought about it, though...

"Like, what kind of sick joke is this?" she asked indignantly. "I don't even know if they have anything on me... I don't remember anything in particular, but I also can't swear that I didn't do anything stupid last night."

She leaned back on the bench with a huff, throwing the letter down between them and crossing her arms across her chest.

"What am I supposed to do here? Risk it and see myself embarrassed in front of the whole monastery? Meet my blackmailer and give them the power? Ugh!"

She turned pleading eyes on Dorothea as if she would have the answers.

#appalled!! aghast!! disgusted!! furious!! who would do this to dear hildy!!!#hilda when we get this guy i think you should show him what it means to be a scorned axe wielding woman #[ ♫ ] ── * support / hilda #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / girl i'm bored let's kill him #delicatevalentine

"they're counting on you to panic, hildy. a panicked victim will always be easier to extort because they stop thinking clearly. so, we have to weigh our options carefully."

of course, that's easier said than done. though she assumes the role of advisor now, dorothea can still recall a time when she'd been in hilda's shoes. she can still remember the dread that turned her blood to ice and taste the bitter notes of terror that ensued at the thought of societal ruin.

regardless of status, women always have something to lose.

the songstress forces herself to exhale slowly, and then reaches for hilda's hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "the only power this person has over you is whatever you're willing to give them. for all we know, they could be bluffing." but if hilda herself admits there's a sliver of a chance that something compromising is on the table, the matter steers into precarious territory.

"chances are you already know this person. as a matter of fact, i'm willing to bet on it."

dorothea straightens up in her seat.

"i wager they're expecting you to show up alone. but what if you arrive with backup? or better yet—" a steely glint flashes in her eye. "what if we find a way to blackmail your blackmailer? that should teach them a lesson."

Act 2, scene 2, lines 133 – 135

Aphotic

…he feels as though he is being scolded.

Finn allows himself a moment to clear his throat before shifting his position in the hopes of better blocking her from the sight of any stranger passing by. They will be here for a time, it seems, and it would truly be annoying if that time extended due to his own misjudgement.

His faces scan the crowds, but he is less familiar with who they are hunting than the student beside him, so he is not as confident in his search. When she interrupts him with a question, he allows it to break his focus more easily than he normally would.

"Do I…no." Finn shakes his head with a frown. "Such circumstances never found me. I was occupied with my service as a knight when I was young, and…well, I lost interest in such endeavors when I was older." The lack of opportunity provided by his circumstances aside, the idea of love had been the last thing on his mind when every day was focused so much on surviving.

After a moment of silence, he clears his throat. It is…strange, to be discussing such things with a student, let alone one he does not even know well. "My daughter is here, however. She is studying in the Deer house, I believe, alongside my young lord." For they provide a much easier subject to discuss than things like love.

#sorry shes projecting her headcanons onto you finn ADHKFG #small talk as they wait around but i figure we can move em along in the next reply or so! whatever works for you 🫰#[ ♫ ] ── * support / finn #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / act 2 scene 2 #sacrificialspear

a wise and seasoned woman had once told dorothea that "lost interest" was a euphemism for one's terrible luck with love—take a broken heart that's sworn off romance altogether, for example.

she eyes finn over curiously. maybe he refuses to be with another after the tragic loss of a partner. or maybe he thinks himself unlovable and awaits the right person to prove him wrong. in any case, the man is all the more fascinating now.

"really?" surprise colors her words. "i didn't know you had children!" she welcomes finn's gesture, polite as it is helpful, and takes an additional step behind him to further shield herself from any more passersby.

so he has a family. must be the former, then—he's lost the mother of his children. how awfully sad.

dorothea wracks her brain trying to recall a student she knows who comes from the deer house and resembles the man standing before her. it's to no avail, unfortunately, and she relents with a sigh. "what's her name?"

[ ♫ ] ─ * 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧…𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲

aphotic / +1 heavy armor

seawardoath

The kids make themselves scarce. As much as they can back here anyway. The one called Hawk puts his head down and keeps working, but Dorsey has other plans. She skips over to a curtain made of old blankets hanging from a wire and pretends to look like she's gathering some old knickknacks to offer to her friend (coworker?), but Ronan catches her peeking beneath the frayed bottoms to make sure their guests are shopping.

Ronan clears his throat and decides to take her cue, but his fingers curl tighter around the bow slung over his shoulders as he approaches one of the tables near the back.

"They do have some wood here," he murmurs to Dorothea, hoping his voice is low enough that the kids can't hear him over the city's noise. Three solid planks are leaned up against a rickety old fence - probably intended to be cut down and used to repair it when the rot made it the rest of the way through. They've been pilfered from various places throughout the city, he has no doubt about that, but only one of them looks like it hasn't already been damaged by the rains. He steps up to it to run his fingers with the grain, making sure it's smooth.

"The shipbuilders will seal whatever we bring them but they can't do anything about wood that's already decaying."

He doesn't ask the kids what they want for it yet; he knows the price of whatever they pick up will probably be his bow and whatever Dorothea happens to be carrying. The one that's been shining silverware under the corner has kept a sharp eye on him though, so Ronan retracts his hand and decides to come back around to it after he's gauged the rest of their wares.

As they approach a table covered in all kinds of odds and ends - bent needles, half-spun spools of thread, armless toys, and even a few old coins - Ronan leans in close to Dorothea.

"Did you bring any weapons with you? I don't think these children are interested in our money."

But that assumed there was anything worth buying to begin with. Still, Ronan feels the pressure of expectation boring holes through his back.

#dorothea staring at ronan like 👁️👄👁️ please pick up on what i'm putting down #[ ♫ ] ── * support / ronan #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / not all men but definitely this guy #seawardoath

"i've got a dagger..." a subtle look directs ronan's attention to her left boot. she'd slipped it in there, as she often did on trips like these, though the way dorothea hesitates makes it clear she's reluctant to give the weapon up. "...but they can't really mean that, right? no doubt money's of more use." the dilapidated shack, the rags, the absence of adults... she can only assume these children are orphans. "still, i don't get it. why not accept money and buy weapons with it? then use the rest for other necessities?"

she exhales contemplatively, turning her gaze upon the wooden plank her companion points out. while not as versed as ronan is in these things, even she can tell the material isn't up to par with what's needed for repairs. a glance at the other tables reveals similarly useless trinkets—chipped spinning tops, a worn leather pouch, discolored beads...

"...there's nothing worth parting with our weapons over," she murmurs to him. that said, she hasn't lost all hope just yet. dorothea's head cants thoughtfully in dorsey's direction, mulling over another form of currency: information. "hmm. i wonder..."

without any warning, the songstress waves the young girl over. dorsey the ever-watchful skips over to their side faithfully, wearing a proud and expectant look. "heya! find something you want?"

"we're still looking," dorothea lies. then, as offhandedly as one might inquire about the weather: "say, you mentioned something about 'competition,' but i haven't seen any other stores"—the term is used lightly—"like yours around here." dorsey blinks at this, not before an indignant huff makes itself heard.

surprisingly, it comes from the boy who tinkers beneath the table: hawk. "we call him 'benicio the bad.'" "more like 'benicio the bloodied' when we're through with him!" dorsey chimes in helpfully. hawk ignores the commentary and continues. "he's a big-shot merchant 'round these parts." and then, more bitterly, "he runs everyone off so that he gets all the customers. no one's got any chance of selling stuff with him around."

dorothea gives ronan a meaningful—albeit pointed—look.

laslow

To Not Yet Fully Bloom

starter for: @encantresse Hanahaki AU thread

laslow

When she turns, Inigo almost reads it as a dismissal. Certainly the kindest one he's ever received; his second chance will have to come another day, when they can view this entire interaction with laughter and--

Oh. He blinks rapidly, processing, catching onto her name the way a drowning man clings to driftwood. Or something. That's dramatic, even by his standards.

Dorothea, Inigo repeats to himself as he collects his own breakfast tray. There's something musical about it--the way the vowels roll into the consonants, almost staccato in the rhythm. Following her eye line, he nods once, still smiling, half-sure this is all some elaborate ploy and he'll be left heartbroken before the meal is over.

And follow he does. Like a dance, he thinks, though he's not quite sure what the next steps are.

Technically, yes, this is the furthest he's been away from home, but does traveling through time count? It's not a distance measured in miles, just emotional damage, so perhaps he should steer clear of mentioning it. For now, at least.

"Yes!" He chirps, neatly sidestepping a student who is too absorbed in their book to notice where they're walking. "I felt it was time I see the world, live up to--" Inigo pauses. Saying live up to my promise to make every woman swoon upon hearing my name! feels like a terrible way to end that sentence, so he swallows and tries again. "--to my promise to make every wom--one--everyone--smile!"

Naga, he's a disaster.

They make it to the table without any more foot-in-mouth incidents. Inigo mourns the bench-style seating; how is he supposed to prove he's a gentleman if he can't pull out Dorothea's chair?

Sighing, he props his elbows on the table and interlaces his fingers, resting his chin atop his knuckles. "And what about you, Dorothea? Are you from this land, or are you a fellow traveler?"

#[ ♫ ] ── * support / inigo #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / to not yet fully bloom #laslow #MY PLEASURE ALWAYS SAMLOVED!! NW EVER i get it life is so very busy 🤝#“...feels like a terrible way to end the sentence” I LAUGHED. we call that self awareness ☝️☝️☝️ king ur doing so well!!! /aff /loving #NOBODY speak ill of my boy inigo!!!!! he is trying his hardest!!!!!!

a worldly traveler! while there are certain implications tied to it, the best she can do is speculate on the conditions until inigo decides to share them with her.

(or until she ends up overhearing gossip about the man.)

"a promise to make everyone smile," she repeats, mulling it over. "huh. you don't hear that every day." the cynic in her thinks to comment on how self-centered most people are, but in the end, dorothea opts to keep it to herself. he's proven to be nothing but polite and amicable thus far, and so she'll respect the atmosphere by keeping things light-hearted.

she slides onto the bench across from him and settles in comfortably, making sure everything on her tray is in order before studying the pink-haired stranger raptly. "if i didn't know any better, i'd say you're a performer of some kind. they're the only people i know who think along those lines." a bold guess, but she's seen examples firsthand. it's often the spirit of an entertainer who seeks to uplift others, who refuses to be tethered and drifts across the planes of the earth in search of something more...

...but ferox is foreign to her, and naturally, uncertainties are cast. there's no knowing what the culture is like there, or what the expectations are for its people. maybe she's off her mark entirely. could it be that he's royalty? one of those free-spirited princes who travel the world to mingle with the common people—rare as that is—to get a feel for what life is like on the other side?

all that to say, her curiosity is piqued.

"well, i've clearly traveled to garreg mach if that counts," she quips, "but no. i'm from fodlan — the adrestian empire."

the longer dorothea thinks on it, the more traveling on a promise doesn't seem like something the average person can survive on. "have you come here with family? friends?"

retainers? knights? that's always a dead giveaway.

senerist

successes of the stray dog

ask cont. || meme - (accepting)

senerist

his humanity… How ironic that dorothea should make such a comment before inquiring of his mark. soren's bitterness wins out, and his reply is as caustic as he'll allow himself to act to a student.

“It's proof i'm lacking in humanity. Humans rarely need reason to treat the undeserving worse, but this mark is practically a permission slip."

he pauses to take a sip of his tea. “Like you, i'm well familiar with the two-faced nature of man. Whether or not one recognized this mark, their treatment of me would vary vastly. And now… miles away from any who understand its significance, it's granted a false respect to those unfamiliar enough with crests to see it's of a wholly different nature.”

Or perhaps it isn't. soren still hasn't done enough research to confirm that.

“From my perspective, the major difference between you and i is that you'd prefer not to grow cold.”

#[ ♫ ] ── * thread / successes of the stray dog #[ ♫ ] ── * support / soren #senerist #think we're winding down here? lmk your thoughts!

"...prefer, sure. if i can help it." kick a man down, muzzle him until he loses all desire to speak, and it's only a matter of time until he retreats into inaccessible depths. dorothea can't say she blames soren in the slightest. "but i guess i won't know whether i remain that way until i've reached the end of my life."

besides. can't it be argued that she's partially grown cold in some manner, herself? there's bitterness buried beneath the smiles and song demanded of her. heart unyielding to the monsters who call themselves men, who hunt the poor and the innocent for sport.

dorothea's expression hardens momentarily before she forces herself to soften it with an exhale. "i won't pretend to know what it is you've experienced, professor, but i can understand to some degree. my own father threw my mother and me out because i was born without a crest. to people like him—and there are plenty—i may as well be a rusted piece of junk."

falling quiet for a spell, she stirs what remains of her tea before carefully adding:

"even if we do grow cold," or already have, "i don't believe we're under any obligation to forgive the people who've hurt us. i certainly haven't and never will. i'll remember what they've done until the very end, even if they've long forgotten about me."

[ ♫ ] ─ * 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

hermidetta

dorothea worries? over her?

it is a notion most inconceivable. at the same time, bernadetta cannot deny the treacherous flutter in her chest—the glimmer of hope that touches her eyes, forcing her to rapidly blink it away. because bernadetta, she is wrong about countless things and gets told as much, but she knew she had not been wrong about dorothea's goodness. dorothea, who even pulls up a seat and coaxes her with patience. dorothea, who had not given up on her.

bernadetta will never say this aloud, but maybe that is all she has ever wanted—for someone in the world not to give up on her, even after she cannot help but do it first. she mulls it over with no small amount of deliberation, the turmoil clouding her face.

(but wouldn't it feel good to finally tell someone, bernadetta? how many pages of scrawl have you let the candlelight eaten all of these years? how much ash do you carry in your closed mouth? how many times have you written it down, flat on the parchment where you thought it would always stay? he's not here. he won't hear you.)

“...” slowly, she turns, letting herself tip back until she's propped against the counter. while dorothea sits, she stands, lowering her gaze to her joined hands in front of her. “well... i... o-okay. the thing is, my parents are the kind of nobles you'd hate. when i was little, they didn't let me have any friends.”

not even noble children. she used to wonder what in the world they were thinking, but it hadn't taken long to figure it out: though her breeding was fine enough, minor crest and all, she required training. training before she could be presented to the public.

they got what they wanted. they got more than they ever bargained for. by the time they had beaten the magic and adventure out of her, their daughter had refused to step out into the world ever again.

“but they told me to never befriend commoners, especially. th-they say commoners are scum and that they'll crush any who ever try to come near me.” it twists her gut rotten just to even say it, and her expression strains. and though she hesitates, afraid of what disgust or scorn might be staring back at her, she tries her best to tilt her gaze a bit more toward dorothea. there is clearly more to her story, but bernadetta waits—for if the other no longer wished to listen, if she finally realized the danger and wanted to take this last out, then bernadetta could never blame her.

#(dangling count varley over a cliff) cry to your goddess bitch boy! cry! cry! cry louder! no one can hear you!#shorter reply on my end so that bernadetta has room to elaborate 🫡#[ ♫ ] ── * thread / a new day with no mistakes #[ ♫ ] ── * support / bernadetta #hermidetta

"what? they called me—" a pause as dorothea corrects herself, "i mean, commoners, scum?"

what more can she expect from these so-called nobles? bigoted fools who tout themselves as paragons of righteousness and good breeding, who act like they're heaven's gift to earth when the common folk would be better off without them. and what little surprise that the minister of religious affairs should be the one to utter such things—that puppet of a hypocritical church—and the audacity with which he labels himself a good man when he presses his daughter and countless others beneath his thumb.

she's heard worse from the likes of him, and knows to expect nothing less from the ignorant, yet the sting never quite goes away, no matter how many times she braces for walks through fields of nettle. hold her breath as she may or wrap her limbs in bandages, in the end, skin is always left red and raw.

she fidgets atop her stool, her hands gripping the edges and legs shifting to cross before she settles again. realizing that bernadetta's gaze inches toward her, dorothea schools her shocked expression into something more neutral in the hopes that it might encourage her friend to continue.

bit by bit, pieces of the story of how a skittish girl came to be start clicking into place. oppressive parents. a stifling upbringing. a lonely life.

running up that hill

“No, not as much, as far as I can tell-”

But had he been taught something different from what is known by the common folk of the land? He could not say for certain, after all- never had he attended the common sermons of the Church of Elimine, having no time for faith when it would do nothing to save him.

Perhaps those at home found it just as hypocritical as she did, that what they preached was not what they knew.

Such contradictions were out of his dominion as a political leader- the words of Saint Elimine would not change simply with the passing of a law. Elffin wonders, too, if it were the Church’s fault for failing to follow through on their promises or if it were those who went against their teachings who should shoulder the blame. There would be no way to know for certain- and that sat uneasily on him.

To his friend, however- it was not difficult to tell that she held no great love for her homeland’s faith, he finds it in himself to respond more gently.

"It is said that Saint Elimine ascended to the heavens after traveling the lands, and founding the nation of Etruria." A pause, "Her clergy are dedicated to following in her footsteps, helping others with their healing magic. Nothing regarding salvation, only doing good in her name."

Then, cautiously, "… But if I may… your teachings feel a lot less concrete than those of the church I grew up on. Even if I offered her no prayer, her fables often taught valuable lessons in themselves."

#[ ♫ ] ── * thread / running up that hill #[ ♫ ] ── * support / elffin #we can wind down as discussed!! if elffin wants to slide in a final remark that works & if not i can close out here 🙂‍↕️#whatever works for u my friend <3 #moriddyn

she knows nothing of this saint elimine beyond what he says, but she finds the same irony in all these tales that speak of the same thing: of great saints ascending, caring only for themselves as they leave behind their flocks to live amongst wolves.

as dear a friend as he may be, elffin is better off having this discussion with another. whether it be a defender of the faith or a scholar of it, either might entertain the topic with more food for thought. she couldn't care less about whatever lessons were supposedly purported, seeing only the hypocrisy buried beneath archaic sentiments.

"there is nothing valuable about what the church says. not to me. not when their actions contradict their so-called teachings—violence instead of peace, and prejudice instead of acceptance."

but her own condemnation of fodlan's church aside, along with her willingness to be a proud sinner, even a non-believer knows better than to disparage the faith and customs of other lands. for all dorothea knows, life might be kinder beyond fodlan's borders. she could not say without having seen the rest of the world herself, and thus can only take elffin's word that there are considerate deities and virtuous clergymen.

the heavy scraping of wooden doors directs her attention to a new family of pilgrims who straggle in, their covered heads bowing piously the second they set foot on consecrated grounds—wearied, ragged, and altogether a pitiful sight dressed in their dirtied rags.

she rises to her feet slowly and, letting out a small sigh, beckons for elffin to follow her in leading them to their destination. "maybe your goddess is more compassionate," dorothea relents. "i'd hope so, for your sake and etruria's. but i will never respect ours."

hresvelged

The joy that leaves her laughter feels peculiar against a girl oft webbed in poise and stoicism. She can nearly hear Ferdinand's voice in Dorothea's impersonation! And oh, how accurate it is. Her applause draws in the way of relaxed posture, keeping herself at her friend's side with ease.

There is not a girl, but an emperor; a person and not a tool, too. With her free hand, she adjusts the pearl necklace nestled near the reds of her dress. "You're very kind, Dorothea. I've said that plenty of times before, but I speak nothing I don't mean. Though, I doubt that needs reiterating. That is why I hope to extend with you the same." When her fingers fall, they brush against the cool evening air.

It is selfish of her to enjoy this time with a friend when the shadows behind her turn frosted, but it is not so wrong when the stars glimmer against Edelgard's earrings. There are still secrets she stores behind the intensity of lilacs; comets behind the darkened depths of the sky. Yet, all the same, there is a friend at her side and a moon in reach. "I won't let your belief in me go to waste. I am the lucky one for that alone. Thank you." Had they never met, this monastery— this continent— would feel that much more frigid.

"When I do find what I seek, it will be all the better knowing I had you at my side to help me achieve it."

— End

#toaball2026 #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / finished #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / edelgard ball mini #hresvelged #belatedly reblogging this for the archive 🙈🙈🙈🙈 TY TIFFBELOVED!!! every interaction of theirs adds +12 years to my life genuinely #they are extraordinarily dear to me :wibbles:#i do have to choke out a sob at the fact that both girls find it “selfish” to put themselves first/indulge in frivolities :sobby: but it's #sweet to see them unlearning this mentality little by little via interactions based on mutual love/respect/patience

♫ 𝄈 peering into the chaos.

( ANNIVERSARY 2024, lance +1 )

thelightofcreation

At first, Sephiran is glad he had not taken part of the conversation, else he would have to fight harder against his laughter, currently muffled in a sleeve as he keeps his distance. A few steps behind, keeping an eye more on the student than her target. There were others with similar situations, after all. This woman was simply the easiest to find.

Perhaps for the best, as she ropes him in unexpectedly, garnering the attention of the former customer. Quickly, he schools his expression into something a little more polite, just as he woman turns and freezes on the spot.

Her eyes dart over him, at first. No sign of recognition, even in the second glance. She stammers something unintelligible, and she searches him for a reaction just as he does with her. Perhaps she simply had only known him within the confines of his store- that seeing him elsewhere was a dissonance she had not yet overcome…

But no, only silence was granted in response.

"Do you not remember me?" A question kept vague- that she could just as easily say no, if she wished- and he would accept it. It was the fact that she had chosen not to answer that caused him greater suspicion, as if uncertain whether she could grant him a rejection at all.

#SEPHIRAN LAUGHING❗❗❗❗🚨🚨🚨🚨 FAKE IDGAFER I SEE YOU!! YOU'VE GOT WHIMSY IN SPADES #anyway thank god he rolled well /aff dorothea is more than happy to let him take the lead since hes got a better understanding #[ ♫ ] ── * support / sephiran #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / peering into the chaos #thelightofcreation

they've pushed their luck with the stranger. the woman stops in her tracks, stiffening as if her limbs have been petrified by an unseen spell. she remains like this for a prolonged span of seconds, beady eyes darting from songstress to shopkeeper, and then to something far beyond the distance—far beyond what dorothea can see, try as she may to follow the woman's gaze.

a baffled look is exchanged with sephiran, unsure of how to draw the woman's attention back, when the object of their interest abruptly shakes and shudders like a distressed animal, both hands wringing the ends of her veil with an intensity that makes dorothea think she might tear it altogether.

"i...." it takes the woman a while to grapple with the question, simple as it is. her feet are turned, positioned to flee, when she starts rocking frantically, brow bent in duress and a quivering voice evidently ill-equipped to answer anything.

"my dog!" she croaks. "like i was saying, i must go! i must! i must!"

the frantic urgency with which she speaks nears dangerously close to those tales of the raving—where she'd once passed for a nervous, albeit unassuming, citizen, dorothea watches on with growing unease as the woman sways this way and that, bent like a tree in winter winds before bolting altogether.

"...wait!"

girl i'm bored let's kill him » dorothea & hilda

The letter dropping into her lap caught her by surprise, and she looked up to see the messenger owl already swooping away. Was it Holst writing to her again? She sighed as she flipped it over; it had only been a week or so since his last. But as she examined the letters on the front spelling out her name, she frowned. Not Holst's handwriting... How strange.

She opened the envelope and pulled out the note. It was short and unsigned.

“I have a compromising video of what you did last night. Meet me at the Amiibo Gazebo after the sun sets today or else.”

She flipped it over to see if there was anything else, but the page was otherwise blank.

Leaning back on her bench with a huff, Hilda thought back to the night before. The Ethereal Ball... Had she done anything compromising? She didn't think so. But a video being publicly released to the contrary would be a less-than-ideal way of jogging her memory.

But what kind of creep would try to blackmail somebody like this? Had they done it before? Would they do it again? How could she stop them from getting away with this without putting herself in danger?

As she mulled over what she should do, a familiar face entered the courtyard. Hilda's eyes lit up. If there was anybody who she could trust to listen without judgement, keep something quiet and help her to brainstorm a plan...

"Dorothea!" Hilda waved her over using the parchment. "Could you take a look at this?"

@encantresse

#(dorothea vc) lazy ass extortionists dont extort like they used to 🙄🙄 unoriginal 🙄🙄🙄 uninspired 🙄🙄🙄#“i have a video of you” okay mr beast??? and i have a mean right hook 🤨 so what #YAY YAY YAY SO EXCITED TY FOR STARTING US OFF EMILY <3 #[ ♫ ] ── * support / hilda #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / girl i'm bored let's kill him #delicatevalentine

who is she to turn down an opportune moment when it rears its head so perfectly? a chance to bond is never wasted—and dorothea is quick to seize it, doing little to hide how flattered she feels to be called over first.

"always nice to run into you, hildy!" a teasing smile greets the other as she hurries over, quickly smoothing out the front of her blazer. "sure thing. working on something secret~?"

with that quip comes a flash of mirth sparking behind her eyes, and one hand is quick to accept the parchment. but no sooner does she skim over the note's contents than dorothea's coy smile fades, her weight shifting from one foot to the other.

"...hang on. you're being blackmailed?"

her voice registers softly, though with a bite of indignation to it. a swell of anger pulses as she recalls her own would-be exploits at the hands of so-called patrons, and a hardening expression shows just how little she cares for those who coerce.

"where'd you find this?" she lowers herself onto the bench beside hilda, angling her torso to lean in. "and how long ago?"

Act 2, scene 2, lines 133 – 135

Aphotic

It would have been unrealistic to hope that this actress might have paid enough attention to someone she didn't know well to know his schedule more deeply. Still, Finn can't help his slight frown of disappointment at the result.

He bows his head politely all the same. "Thank you. We appreciate your assistance. And-" And any niceties that he might have shared are silenced by an overwhelming burst of girlish excitement. Stakeout? Disguises? Finn frowns in confusion as he turns to look at Dorothea.

"…I thought we might simply wait and ask to talk to her?" Was that unreasonable? Finn shakes his head before gesturing for Dorothea to follow him. "I don't see any reason for dramatics or secrecy yet, unless the lady has something to hide…I suspect you might have a glamourized idea of how knights work."

It does not take long for evening to arrive. Finn discovers through a combination of his escort and her friend that there is a door off to the side of the theatre that the actresses will use to avoid the fawning crowds. No doubt someone wanting not to be noticed might enter there as well, so it is there they wait, watching from the nearby shade of a store's awning so as not to grab attention.

…or so they would be, if not for the passersby who keep stopping to do a double take at Dorothea. "Maybe we should have gotten you a disguise after all…"

#the bitches (gender neutral) love stoic knightly types dont tell me you're not pulling #[ ♫ ] ── * support / finn #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / act 2 scene 2 #sacrificialspear

was it a glamorized idea? ...maybe to some extent, but the opera world was a different entity than what the average knight might be used to. dramatic as it might seem to the likes of finn, a straightforward approach would never work here, considering the lengths taken to hide a secret rendezvous. not that she could blame the woman; the public was a scrutinizing beast, and it only took the slightest misstep to waltz right into a career-ending scandal.

"yes, we should've."

her response is pointed. a polite 'i told you so!' as dorothea shifts to angle herself away from the citizen who peers curiously at mittelfrank's own former songstress. "it's too late now. let's just hope no one recognizes me. the last thing we need is a crowd."

she relents with an amicable shrug to show she's not truly upset, and continues looking passersby over in search of adrina or a man matching the captain's description. for extra measure, the brim of her hat is lowered, breath baited as she waits to see if the curious onlooker yields from out of the corner of her eye.

when they do, she heaves a sigh of relief.

but with no sign of the performers just yet, dorothea figures there's still plenty of time to kill — and turns her attention to sir finn.

"have you got a love waiting for you back home?"

when you say eat the rich...

A strange orb has been seen around the monastery, said to be from the world of Zenith. Rumors say that it can show another facet of yourself in another outfit, from another timeline, or even another world. [Grants Any Skill +1] starter for @encantresse

The ball, like any event, passed not quietly but simply. It was, after all, a night of festivities to be reminisced upon come the morning, but not one that left tangible changes save for what was cleaned from the event venue, though even that lasted no longer than a week.

Words spoken, however, lasted longer, lingering in the minds of those who granted them and those who received- though those spoken lightly less so. That, of course, was not Elffin’s concern.

It was only a few days after the ball, yet he already knew that if he did not spill his secrets now, he would once again clam up and lock them away. In truth, there was no logical reason to speak of them. With both their lives already forming, it was unlikely they would cross paths once he returns home- he, locked by obligation, she with a future that he hopes she finds bright.

If he kept silent, the likelihood of her ever learning was low.

And he could tell- the longer he waited, the more the idea of breaking his silence- of granting another layer of trust grew intimidating, and eventually, in a move driven both by caution and its absence, he asks if she had a moment to spare- that perhaps they could work in the library together.

He fails to mention anything else- half hoping she does not notice its absence, and half hoping she does.

#[ ♫ ] ── * thread / when you say eat the rich #[ ♫ ] ── * support / elffin #moriddyn #YAY YAY YAY YAY TIME TO CRACK THIS LITTLE PRINCE OPEN!!!!!#2 YEARS IN THE MAKING BABY!!!!!!#replying to this after the sephiran ask is so funny to me btw. sarathea collecting kanoesas secretive little blorbos like pokemon /aff #thank u for starting us off beloved

it was not out of the ordinary for elffin to be tight-lipped—she'd long since learned not to anticipate lengthy explanations from him, seeing as he often preferred to keep things succinct whenever he could. what had stuck with her was that simple request from just a few nights ago, when he'd asked if she would make time for him, and that he could not speak of the matter at the ball. it left dorothea wondering what a man like him might even confess: something from his past, maybe? or did it have to do with more recent information that he'd stumbled upon and wished to divulge? was something that affected them both? or just her?

in any case, elffin's never been the type to idly gossip. thus, she concludes the obvious: whatever this is about, it's surely of great importance.

she accepts his invitation readily, her own schoolbooks in arm as she leads them to the library. conversation is kept informal and light; chatter about the weather and her day thus far, with the occasional glance his way to ensure she's not struck a nerve she doesn't yet know about.

once inside, beneath the flickering chandeliers overhead, she points out an empty table to him with a nod. it's their best choice, she thinks: tucked into a corner behind one of the massive pillars. best suited to privacy, though as her eyes dart around the room, she can't help but wonder if the presence of others might put him off from unloading whatever weighs on him. there aren't many, thankfully—just three golden deer students seated on the opposite side of the room, who all appear busy working amongst themselves.

dorothea neatly sets her books down and pulls one of the chairs free to lower herself onto it. with bright eyes surveying his features, she motions for her friend to join her.

"i can't remember the last time we studied together like this. it must be a special occasion." the joking tone aside, something about her delivery edges on expectant.

ulircursed

30k wasp chamber escape room challenge

⤷ aphotic: flying +1

ulircursed

The sharp jolt of light illuminates the surprise in Andrei's expression for a mere moment before they are plunged into darkness once more. That the other would be willing to do the deed, instead of foisting the responsibility and the blame solely onto him, comes as yet another surprise. He waits until the magic fully dissipates from the corpse, before hoisting him up with a muted grunt.

(Not an action he would've considered, just as the crude weapon he wields in his hands, but years in the Abyss had rid him of many of the qualms he might have had in the past.)

"...The plan is to be gone before the rest can arrive," he says, voice straining from exertion, dragging the pirate over to the barrels and depositing the body as close to the edge of the wall as possible. Not undetectable by any means, but hopefully enough to shield it from unattentive eyes just long enough to take their leave.

Scuffling noises continue just ahead, from beyond the door that the earlier enemy must have exited from, and Andrei pauses, adjusting his grip on the weapon in his hand before leaning in, peering through the widening crack.

Even with the faintest vision available to him, the gleam of feathers is unmistakable, and he lets out a low hiss of breath in relief.

"My steed is in here," he says, only barely remembering to check for any additional human presence before shouldering his way through the door.

Fumizuki, tense and sightless in the dark, raises her head at the sound of another arrival, backing further against the wall with the feathers on her crest raising in alarm.

"It's me. It's alright," he reaches towards the bird, speaking softly, reassuringly, and it takes only a moment before she shuffles forward, talons clicking against the wooden floor as she leans in with a mournful croon. Andrei places a hand on her feathery neck briefly, smoothing it down, before reaching for the reins that had tied her to the wooden post beside her.

"I doubt she knows to stay quiet in this situation," he turns back to Dorothea once the reins had loosened, voice regaining the earlier edge, "But any access to the sky at all will provide ample chance to escape."

Andrei turns his gaze around them, a desperate sweep for any potential clue to their relative whereabouts on the ship — a window, a sign of outside light, anything — turning up fruitless. He shakes his head.

"All there is is to find a way up," he says, leading the bird past Dorothea and towards the door by the reins, much more decisiveness in his tone than he truly feels.

#[ ♫ ] ── * thread / 30k wasp chamber escape room challenge #[ ♫ ] ── * support / andrei #ulircursed #hooray for our nat20 danger roll (rubbing my hands together like a fly) hehehehehe #just their luck isnt it. dorodrei's no good very bad day with pirates #now that you've brought up the kite thing i do have to wonder about overall vision down here :crylaugh:#fumizuki sweet baby i fear you have just gotten jumped in (relative) darkness. how will this bode

ideal as his proposition is, there's a healthy amount of skepticism that remains. such a feat will be nearly impossible to pull off on a ship crawling with pirates, and beyond their obvious predicament, there's also the matter of trustworthiness. her reluctant partner cooperates now, but who knows if andrei will ditch her the second an opportune moment presents itself. after all, he'd made it abundantly clear that he didn't care much for her.

dorothea reminds herself silently: be useful. ensure he needs her equally, if not more.

with a final regretful look toward the corpse, she cautiously follows him. rather than allow her eyes to readjust to the darkness again, she unfurls her hand to cast soft firelight, illuminating the shadowy corners of the room to reveal andrei's mount, here as he'd said she'd be. dorothea eyes the animal warily, unsure if it might startle at the sight of flames. she opts to linger by the doorway instead, peering out every so often to ensure no one catches them by surprise.

"a way up means we'll have to fight. there's no other way around it." she steps back into the corridor from which they'd come, pressing herself against a stacked barrel to make room for the rider and his mount to pass. "we can't exactly sneak around with…" her chin points at the bird. "...not to mention you have to handle her, so i guess it'll be up to me to take any pirates out. worst case scenario, if we're far outnumbered, i'll use meteor. the only problem is that we'll go down with the ship if you can't get us into the sky in time," she warns. "so it's got to be our last resort—"

"bartholomew! you bastard! said you wouldn't be gone five minutes! almost half an hour later and your sorry ass is nowhere to be found. bet you're gettin' piss drunk down here, you useless pig!"

her heart jumps into her throat, eyes rounding in alarm as heavy footsteps come thumping down the stairs. dorothea tries to back into the room they'd come out of, but in these narrow corridors, there's hardly much room to maneuver, and particularly with a sizable mount bringing up the rear. "back!" she mouths. "go back!" but to no avail. the pirate's bulky physique stiffens when he reaches the landing, taken aback by the sight of their prisoners scampering about.

swiftly, the man brings his thumb and index finger to his mouth, letting out a piercing whistle. "HEY! THEY'VE ESCAPED!"

𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊❗❗

GROUP MEMBERS — 2 ONLINE

dorothea 🟢 alear 🟢 bernadetta 🔘

hermidetta

↪ [ reply to: i have single friends!! good ones!! ] : (image attachment) ↪ [ react to: something tells me bernie has a secret... ] : 🙈 ↪ [ reply to: something tells me bernie has a secret... ] : bernie's not suspicious!! bernie's just in the middle of something! trying out a new coffee recipe [ TXT - dorothea 🌹❤️, alear 📸 ] : anyway ↪ [ reply to: image attachment @aliberation ] : he kind of looks like someone i know! (we go to the cheesecake factory together and i don't even have to do any of the talking) [ TXT ] : i have a taser too 🙋 in case either of you need one

aliberation

↪ [ reply to: bernie's not suspicious!! bernie's just in the middle of something! trying out a new coffee recipe ] : uh huh...... [ TXT ] : wait, he looks familiar? i mean i guess it makes sense @hermidetta [ TXT ] : he is some kinda hot shot model or something like that [ TXT ] : the bad boy type, i guess [ TXT ] : but yeah, anyways! anyways!!!! [ TXT ] : i'll bite. who are these people you're talkin about thea? @encantresse [ TXT ] : what are they like? cute? funny? hehe [ TXT ] : give us the deets girl

#[ ♫ ] ── * thread / don't text him back #[ ♫ ] ── * au / modern #hermidetta #aliberation #apologies for the delay this got away from me #dorothea vc YES i mean the freaks on my friend roster too. theyre all beautiful to me you just need to open your mind and your third eye #theres a person for everyone

↪ [ react to : @hermidetta i have a taser too 🙋 in case either of you need one ] : ❤️ ↪ [ reply to : i have a taser too 🙋 in case either of you need one ] that's my girl!! ↪ [ reply to : what are they like? cute? funny? hehe ] i can't stress enough that all my friends are top of the line. you can't go wrong with any of them 😉 [ TXT ] : smart, funny, attractive, talented, you name it! bern can vouch [ TXT ] : @aliberation why don't i just set you up with one of them? it's better to see for yourself.

[ ♫ ] ─ * 𝐟𝐨𝐮é𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐬 & 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭

infamous / white heron cup

aubins

they’ve noticed, naturally. after all, the blame for it lies with them. but abyss is a machine whose gears need constant oiling, and it’s their job to ensure everything is how it has to be to keep it all turning. to have fleeting bursts of time to spare at all is a miracle in and of itself.

“we’re spending time together right now.” their teacup lifts briefly into the air, as though to punctuate. and then, bluntly, “but it’s a no on the dancing, ladybird. i don’t dance—and certainly not for some competition. i’m sure there’s someone who’ll want to be your partner. you can’t possibly expect me to believe i’m your first choice for it.”

witty, charming, principled—these are their supposed good qualities that she names. and the nobility have tossed gold aplenty at them for it. yuri’s good at it; anything that sits on the surface is only what they’ve meant for others to see. a bitter laugh, their head shaking. “besides, i’m really not much of a dancer. you’ll be better off finding someone else anyway. or at least a dance that you can perform on your own.”

#aubins #[ ♫ ] ── * thread / fouettes & falls of blazing paint #[ ♫ ] ── * support / yuri

dorothea mirrors her companion instinctively. her teacup rises back to her own lips, though she purses them upon hearing that refusal. truth be told, she's surprised by how passionately yuri pushes back when they've always been amicable to most suggestions—or at the very least, made a show of entertaining whatever idea she posed.

"goodness. you could've stopped at 'no.' you make it sound like i tried to ship you off to war."

the drink in hand hovers mid-air as she studies them with renewed interest, its steaming contents quickly forgotten in the moment. deciding a sip is no longer what she desires, but rather, answers, dorothea sets her cup onto its saucer and folds her hands beneath her chin.

"a skilled swordsman isn't a far cry from a good dancer, you know. fancy footwork and whatnot." green eyes flicker over yuri in their appraisal. "since when have you been so opposed to dancing, anyway?"

[ ♫ ] ─ * 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬

herald | any skill +1