here she lies where she longed to be ;
LINKS: self • stat • bond • uniform • mun + guidelines • thread tracker
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Sade Olutola

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Not today Justin
Peter Solarz
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we're not kids anymore.
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Janaina Medeiros
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@ephemeralove
here she lies where she longed to be ;
LINKS: self • stat • bond • uniform • mun + guidelines • thread tracker
a blanket of white, unbroken
The long, dark nights often lead to despair, but this year seems to have led to a more extreme crisis. Some members of the Knights of Seiros defy their orders and steal away with some crest stones in the dark of night. The promise of power and, most importantly, eternal warmth in a cold winter drives their actions, but they are powerless against the curse. These monsters roaming the hills may have been your allies once, but there is no trace of them here.
And so, the bait is taken, the monstrous mass barreling towards the Moonstone; and he is not caught off-guard, not left unprepared; he watches the way it moves—the way it bounds over snow and rot and snaps its jaws as it does so—and in an instant, the pieces of its existences start to fall together. Wild, rabid, and perfectly untamed—a fanged, clawed, horned monstrosity that could only reflect the deepest, darkest depths of humanity—
—and Valter finds it fitting: that a thing inflamed by battle would draw out the worst in a person.
Claws are ducked beneath, each motion both a measure of and a response to the creature’s power, quick and agile; mighty and sharp. At best, the knight is grazed, and when that is recognized, the beast makes to snap its maw and teeth.
Reflex, then: that a general of many years and fighter of even more would know, by naught more than sheer instinct, to twist his spear and catch it between the monster’s teeth—to let the butt of it catch on the bottom jaw and the blade to dig into the roof of its mouth—might be the only obvious outcome to some, but would Duessel still be standing here? (Would the Sunstone still be shining?) It is darkness that best reflects darkness, and when the beast struggles to come away from the metal that pierced it, Valter grabs onto its rocky carapace and climbs.
And his ripostes continue, blade finding the cracks between and digging into its flesh—it’s a hearty thing, he’s surmised, well-armored and resilient if the shining crest stone in its forehead was meant to suppose anything. (If he were a stronger magician, he might’ve tested that next, but alas; it would remain a mystery for now.) A lesser creature would’ve died by now, but this one remains standing, and it remains strong.
It shakes him off with all the ease of a dog shaking off rain, and when the Moonstone lands, he finds the suddenness puts him off-balance—for just a moment, having to catch himself with his other foot, cautious of an offense that doesn’t seem to follow.
Instead, the beast wallows in its pain, howling horrifically as the knight regains his footing, and in that moment, something deathly apparent becomes clear to him:
It was a child. (Full-grown beneath its skin, yes, but in the realm of monsters, it had only just been born, and it had risen in the wake of desperation, a despairing fervor and a terror to survive, and those base instincts seemed to remain.) Valter had been giving the thing too much respect.
He dashes forward again—this time with the advantage of impetus, blade aimed for the stone just as the monster turns to face him again. The first time around, he had simply been cautious, but here? With his knowledge—that this was a base thing, capable of simple tactics only—he finds a confidence otherwise unbased upon which to build his momentum: arrogance, almost.
It is but a child. You can best a child. (It wouldn’t be that difficult, actually.)
In the thrashing of its form, his blade marks a few inches off-target, but he shifts it into a hold that digs, pushing deeper and deeper into the skull; and his position relative is held consistent, one hand holding onto the central horn just north of the stone and boots positioned above the teeth to keep steady.
“ You know, it’s awfully wrong of you to be stealing crest stones from the church, ” the knight then says, the grin on his face growing. “ You ought to give it to me instead! Your life is forfeit, but at least it won’t go to waste. ”
--and as she watches him trade blows with the great beast she reaps the greatest benefit to her curiosity: the privilege of watching so feral an opponent fight. From this vantage she watches him discover the weaknesses in the monster's armor, steel slipped beneath scale to rend the fragile flesh below; from this vantage she witnesses the workings of his mind's eye, the lows, the rush, the wickedness with which he wields a weapon.
Eremiyah had raised her for this, after all -- Reese, the timid girl most useful in her uselessness, who slipped beneath the hardened hearts of wiser men. This was how she found the cracks in their armor; this was how she slipped a blade between their ribs. In that sense, her knife is no less wicked than the lance in his hands now.
But betrayal requires a modicum of trust.
There is no surprise to be had in the way his smile grows in his moment of triumph, nor how he chides her from up high, a leading actor with his beast's bouquet of crimson. The hand that 'flinches' at his words is not the one brushing against a hidden blade, but the one pulling her elbow flush to her side, the skin beneath her fingertips mottled white with pressure.
"I warned you," Katarina answers, her quiet voice made uncomfortably loud in the silence after the din, and tears through the knight's charade, a wicked blade cutting straight and narrow through his tangled web. Eremiyah may have made her, forged her, but she places herself in the hands of someone better: a wise man with a soft heart and a scar along his ribs. If she will die for anyone, it will be for him.
"You..." ...probably don't care about being human. At least, not in the same way. Though it be from beneath soft lashes, she looks up at him unyieldingly. "...you think... it'll make the sum of you, but... it will only make the average." Those sharp eyes that saw the signs of breakage in adamantine hide; the deadly cunning which so quickly understood how to make use of it; the dexterity that saw him crest the poor wretch's back and, yes, that glint of foul humanity in exulting triumph -- all of it, lost.
"...You would be strong, though," she admits. "The strongest of all the mindless beasts." And if he thought that he was special? That he would be different, that he would master inhumanity through the force of his own will? ...then he would be a much greater fool than she had taken him for.
"Return that to the church." She lifts her chin. "My life... isn't yours to take."
beyond memory and dream
' MISTER ' SOUNDS RIDICULOUS ,⠀🗲⠀but he's not foolish enough to give her his name in case this was still a trap, even if she was just a scrawny girl, though it seems less and less likely now than it's been nearly an hour. she hadn't said anything the whole time they'd walked, which was more than fine with him. "like i said, not much. a silver or two, perhaps." in considering the cost, he rethinks his assumptions from before. it's true, there were plenty of villagers in the poorer areas who couldn't afford even that much, but he wouldn't have expected any of them to show up around here. the lands in the immediate purview of the church were usually well-cared for by proximity and association with such a prominent power.
so had she traveled far? he doubts it, looking like that. and alone? but she also didn't look local.
if he's going to be explaining her situation to shopkeepers on her behalf, he may as well ask. . . . strange, shouldn't they be able to see the spires of the monastery by now?
"where did you come from." overseas occurs to him as another possibility——with all the exchange students enrolling in droves every moon, he wouldn't be surprised if some urchins had managed to find their way over too.
"and you said ' we ' earlier. who is that."
A silver? Maybe two? She doesn't even need to try to do the math to know Lady Eremiyah's displeasure with the cost. Back when she had first collected Reese, she would sit by the candlelight with her head in her hands and murmur in a pitched voice about coppers, silvers, and gold; when at some point the worry had ceased, she had long since understood that anything beyond the worth of copper had to be earned.
Restless hands wrench into her shirt instead, as if she might shake an acceptable answer from the rumpled cloth. She would never be forgiven if she gave even the littlest hint, but his tone leaves no room for avoidance.
"Kn... Knorda," she answers, almost breathlessly. "I-I... w, was born in Knorda Market... I think..." Wrapped around a ball of cloth, her knuckles turn white, pressed into her stomach. Surely she must have been born somewhere, but she doesn't remember such a thing as parents. In their stead she knew jeering laughter and the shapes of bruises left by boots upon her ribs. Once she had called someone 'Mother', but she knows better than that now.
"Y-yes? Um..." Never. Never. Never. Never say her name. "M-me... and my sister... We have a brother, too. Oh... but, he doesn't like when I call him that..."
meadow-green at the gills
mission board: herald - ( an accidental poisoning )
Word gets out that the mayor of Baile’s daughter is an infamous foodie. Though the town hasn’t put in an order for her sake, various cooks in the monastery get fired up with the hope of creating a dish that will satisfy her. Informal competition between all these chefs sparks to life, each using the festival as an excuse to prove themselves the best cook in all of Garreg Mach. However, when you go to taste test for one of these chefs, you taste something horrifically wrong and your body starts to go numb. For reasons unknown, you’ve been poisoned.
Of all the things to light a spark at Garreg Mach, she both is and isn't surprised that it's a competition yet to actually be announced. Still, it's nice to see everyone's efforts devoted to something so mundane, setting aside the fact that this is an academy of war.
Among those seemingly rising to the challenge, Katarina had spied a familiar face working hard in a sequestered corner of the space allowed to those outside the kitchen staff. She might not be of much use to others, but most cooks needed a taste tester, didn't they? So she had approached quietly; asked permission quietly; filled the space quietly, and then-- perhaps it might have been rude of her, but she had watched in quiet admiration, too.
"You seem very skilled," she comments softly. Yet when she reaches for a name to complete her sentence, she realizes that she has none. "--oh... I never gave you my name, did I...? I'm sorry. Um... my name is Katarina." A smile there, little and tepid, yet it peeks through the earth to sprout a quiet laugh as well. "...it's nice to meet you again. If... you don't mind me asking... what are you making?"
@hermidetta
many spoonfulls of sugar
mission board: epidemic - +1 gauntlet (making chocolate)
Whilst L’Arachel’s skills in the kitchen are not yet as perfect as the rest of her, practice is the best way to remedy that! And what better way to do this, than through a clever ploy; she creates enough chocolate to give out to every single person that she knows, and then next month, she shall receive a mountain of chocolate higher than even Mount Mimir!
Her brilliance sometimes surpasses even her own expectations!
Before she can ponder any more of her magnificent plan, however, a familiar voice captivates her attention fully; turning towards Katarina, she gives her a massive, bright smile.
And, even better, the chocolate maestro wants people to partner up!
“Why, I would wish for nothing more than that!” She beams at her. “It shall be quite the lovely time! Besides, with the quantities of chocolate I am hoping to create, I can only rely on who I know to be the best of the best!” She laughs.
Glancing over at Stefanelli, the man seemed busy making sure everyone’s stations were properly set up. In that case, she fully refocuses her attention on her friend for now.
“I am quite excited about this. Have you ever made a chocolate concoction before? I am quite eager to learn myself; perhaps this shall be another way by which I shall spread my name far and wide!” The excitement in her voice is accompanied by very vivid gesticulations using a kitchen implement that she had picked up due to its resemblance to a mace.
For all L'Arachel's great exuberance, Katarina does not feel dwarfed by her. It's true there was a time she felt uncertain of it, a creature raised in shadow and displeasure left without much clue of how the world could at times be like her: endlessly, awe-strikingly bright, dreaming dreams of a better world with all the ambition to make it real.
Yet now she so easily finds it a comfort, a reassurance that fewer children will be like her and instead dream those great big dreams.
"Hehe..." Their laughs may not be the same, but they share the same moment in time. "And I'm happy..." Oh, has she not learned this lesson so lovingly from Nanna? She will never match up to her friends in their wondrous wordsmithing. "...to be here with you," she settles for the honest, ordinary truth. "It's been a while since the bow-- the alley of bowling. I... missed you."
Cheeks touched by a sprinkling of warmth, Katarina guides them to an unoccupied station, quick to start sorting their supplies. Bowls separated, any sharp implements located and placed out of accidental-hand-whacking range -- her eyes may linger on the table, but her ears are occupied by something far greater.
"I haven't," she concedes, gathering potential fillings to the side. "I'm glad we have a teacher here. I only know a little bit about cooking, and I don't do it very often..." The words may be hesitant, but her smile and quiet laugh are gentle and easy. "...but I still wanted to try. What about you?" Her expression softens. "Hehe... what are you planning to do?"
• [ CHAMPAGNE ] - And from one of the finest bottles Adrestia has to offer. No student is allowed more than a single glass, and it looks classier to swirl it before it’s empty.
"Ah! Miss Katarina. Just the person I wished to see. " Smile crinkles Azama's eyes. "Will you join me for a toast?"
He's got two glasses in hand, and he would very much like to not have two glasses in hand, thanks much. He offers her one before raising the other before him.
"To a brand new year full of whimsy and enlightenment and moving forward, and learning, and bothering people... and... and..."
There he stops, shrugs, grins.
"Hum... Your turn!"
"Oh...! Professor..." Hard to shake the habit, isn't it? Though she's a bit more conscious of it when he's handing her a glass of champagne. One glass limit aside, no teacher would have been the one to give her that one glass if she were still a student. "...thank you, Azama," she amends.
He raises his glass, and she does so in turn, listening as he gleefully rattles off the things he'd like to fill his year. Not that she would ever dare claim to understand him, but the corners of her mouth curl faintly upward when he slips 'moving forward' in with the rest. The rest being... well, things that very much sound like he'd enjoy.
"M-my turn?" Well, he did just end his list with bothering people. Really, it's on her for not seeing it coming. That does nothing to stop her fluster. "I've never, um..."
Eyes flit hither and thither in search of an answer, until they land on her bouquet and settle into calm. Lowering her glass, she lifts a tulip instead, raising it in his honor.
"And... to the flowers we find, even in the dark."
[ TEA ] - Just what it says on the tin! The only teas offered are Mint, Bergamot, Sweet-Apple Blend, Albinean Berry Blend, and Southern Fruit Blend, wrapped in small tea bags. Some students, having anticipated a small selection, bought their own tea.
"...They don't have rose tea..." It's a careless thought, mostly murmured to herself as she surveys the blends on offer. She supposes it makes sense -- even for an academy catering not only to countless nobility but a host of foreign royals as well, it sounds a bit... pricey to stock in such quantities. Unfortunately, she's left to pick from what they do have, and she hasn't a clue about that.
"Excuse me..." Turning to the woman beside her, Katarina notes that something about her feels quite knowing. Maybe the way she carries herself, or a certain look in her eyes... "...do you have any recommendations for the teas here? I don't really drink it, but... I thought I'd try something new."
Even as she speaks she's looking for a tulip to offer her, as if the imposition of herself naturally required recompense.
She smiles, somewhat sheepishly.
"And, um... a tulip, for the trouble."
[ SAMPLE ] - Anyone who has attended the ball in the past couple of years is familiar with the fake mint candies that seem to make their way around the facilities as a popular prank. Hope your senses are well-trained enough to tell them apart without your sight!
Diffident. Unassuming. Meek, even if at least outwardly. What was this if not the shadow of an impression deemed oh so familiar? Reminded of a boy who no longer was, a brother long lost to time yet never faded to memory, Rafal chose this wallflower of a woman for a reason. This wallflower of a woman who stood out for all that she failed to stand out at all.
It was with such reasons in mind that he approached, brow writ with resolve: "You there. I have procured this. . .toy. It is nothing that I know what to do with. I am unable to eat it, and even if I were able, it would not be remotely sweet enough to satisfy me. I ask that you take it off my hands."
He gazed at her, expectant. Authoritative. Then, soft.
". . .In addition, I desire your flower. You may see it as a trade, or a request, or a demand, it matters not—know only that I require it for my important ends."
In contrast, she remembers him many years past the barest convergence of paths, so brief it could not even be considered a meeting.
What she does not expect is that his attention is fixed on her, determination pointed at her like the end of a sword when she had thought herself far beneath his sight. Her gaze still drifts hither and thither, expecting to find herself merely pebble in his wake, until the moment he stands before her.
Ah... but... this is familiar, isn't it? Katarina is a girl who bends beneath the slightest touch, whose resolve is many times softer than his -- a flame that only burns when times call for fire, and a hearth otherwise left dim. Yet at the other end of his determination she does not feel the pressure that so often accompanies such steel; she looks at him, and she remembers...
...she remembers a girl with hardly a coin to her name, whose words were always sharp, who would break before she would ever bend -- a girl who had given her the first gift she'd ever received in her life. Her hands had been warm when she pressed the wooden charm into Reese's own, still as sharp-tongued as ever.
That girl is gone; the sharp-eyed man in front of her will never know nor meet her. And they are different people -- this she knows as well, despite how such disparate silhouettes overlap for one fleeting moment. But still, because of all that she was -- a blazing wildfire of a woman who stood out no matter where she went-- Katarina meets him, and neither bends nor breaks; she simply is as she is.
"Of course." Two syllables, and three beats of laughter quiet in her breath. It is a small burden to carry, and weighs hardly anything at all; by the time she has tucked it away it is already nearly forgotten. Instead she wonders: "You said not sweet enough... how do the sweet buns compare?"
Her fingers already comb through the flower stems as his gaze softens, another chuckle hidden among their petals. How generous of him to lead with trading and requesting, she thinks in fond sincerity. And after them the demand of a gift that obscured the act of giving... Katarina smiles despite herself. Perhaps it is something else for him; regardless, to the boy whose shadow overlaps with a girl long gone, the least Katarina can do -- wants to do -- is treat him well.
"...Of course," she says again, in a way that would have surely frustrated her, and gentle gray meets unyielding red. "And... thank you. Whatever you need it for--" A single giggle slips out, incandescent and brief as a bubble in the moment it pops. "--hehe. Good luck."
[ COFFEE ] - More specifically, a mocha brewed with Almyran coffee beans and Dagdan chocolate and served with hot milk. A sweeter variation of the drink taking Fódlan by storm.
“i-it's so bitter...” where's the chocolate? the hot milk? did she get another dud from the refreshments table? a sniveling whine into her mug. then, to the person beside her: “spare chocolate? jam? anything? i'll even give you this flower. and these are some seriously valuable flowers!”
It's hard not to overhear the harrowing ordeal of the girl beside her. Has she never had coffee before? What a bitter revelation that would be, especially if she had anticipated something far sweeter. Katarina's fingers wrap around her own mug, searching for moments to interject only to doubt herself when they appear.
But the opportunity presents itself to her when the girl swivels her head, desperately entreating her for a modicum of sweetness. She even offers one of her 'seriously valuable flowers', and the plea is so full-hearted, so ardent, that the mage can only blink for a moment.
"...Ah, one moment." A gloved hand begins to dip into her box of chocolates, only to pause before slipping underneath it; instead, she presents the entire thing to the bitter-besieged girl. "...Here. You can take as many as you want."
Her lips turn up a quiet smile, a thing even more sincere than it is small.
"...It's bitter, isn't it? Um..." Gray eyes fall away, laid against the ground like some penitent creature. Hopefully she isn't just repeating everything already known. "...coffee is very bitter on its own, but... you can add things like milk, sugar, or honey... to make it sweeter. It has a very nice aroma in sweets. Ah... but it tends to keep people up."
Once the girl has availed herself of Katarina's chocolates, the mage tucks it close to her once more without a glance as to how many are left. After all, she said what she meant and she meant what she said; if she'd wanted all of her chocolates, then it must have been a bitter drink. Instead, Katarina holds up a hand, shaking her head.
"Thank you," her smile widens a bit, brushing against her eyes, "But... you should keep your flower. N-not because I don't believe you! But, if it's really so valuable... you should keep it." She's never been anything of a green thumb anyway; even with their stems already cut, these blooms will surely endure longer under this girl's care than Katarina's -- and they will give her more joy, besides.
"Oh... If you need a flower, though..." Carefully, she plucks a white tulip from her bouquet, offering the bloom and crowning it with a soft breath of a laugh. "My flowers are only ordinary... but here. I think both of them will be much happier with you."
@ephemeralove, should we leave the veils on...?
[ LIGHT ] She only hears a description of the dance in passing, herself already scanning the crowd for a glimmer of the sun's gold. 'A show of faith', the voice without a face calls it, and that is when Katarina slows to a stop. 'An expression of trust.' Memories rise to the surface -- of Nanna, of the homes she makes in dresses and how she smiles when they billow out around her, and Katarina has never been any good with words, but in that moment she thinks she might try to share her affection for her friend in a language that so well suits her. Fingers curl gently around the stem of a tulip, the first she has plucked from her bouquet, as the wallflower watches from her shadow in hopes of bringing a smile to the day. "Nanna..." Her name is murmured softly, a breath that tickles the petals of the flower Katarina now offers her. "You're beautiful," she says again, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a rare mirth; though just because she laughs, that does not speak less of her sincerity. "Tonight especially. "...I learned a dance on the way here." The words feel ticklish in her throat, made bashful by a lifetime of being made less than, but they endure through the love of a knight with too many scars, a boy in a broken mirror, and the girl in front of her who gave her a new word: living. And when her heart beats, it is only in their answer. Katarina holds out her hand. "I wanted to dance it with you."
A valediction in gold made Nanna feel more naked than she had ever allowed herself prior. Gone were the petals off her veil and the seelie skin of magic that had obscured her face. Nanna had never really allowed herself to glimmer as sorrowfully nor as lost as she did then. But she suspected that her partner would understand, more than anyone, that even a princess must set down her steady crown and mourn imperfection. Gathering her skirts, (step! step! step!) Nanna dedicated a majestic stroll across the dance floor to seek out someone in particular. Scanning the floor up and down, Nanna was searching for someone dangerous.
Someone she had to protect.
The moment Katarina erupted into her view, Nanna felt her petals scatter once more, pushing off her heels like they were winged and opening up her armspan to take her dear friend for a spin. Heels clattering, laughter in peels, Nanna exclaimed: "Katarina...! You're here!" No masquerade to shroud her eyes this time, Nanna wondered if it was really okay to be this naked. (He loves me, he loves me not.) "...And what of you? My dear friend, the moon misses you like a lover, beautiful as you are!"
Nanna watched the way Katarina's eyes crinkle and felt like fresh earth was being tilled and tended to. Crow's feet resembled delicate fingers rounding their tips into the soil. Nanna has no idea how rare they are, for in each other's company, Katarina has always been a spotless memory with smiles drawn like love lines.
"I've been hearing whispers..." Nanna's laughter came in softer than thunder. "If you'll have me, I shall do right by your trust in me."
Katarina had always— (there was a swell in her throat)— She had always made the next leap feel predestined. If there was anything worth its weight in courage, it was to trust her and carry onward. To answer her, Nanna drew out an orchid and brushed it behind her friend's ear. Enchanted candlelight flickered from scarlet to grayscale, as only the faintest of outlines are left for them to discern from the dark.
Courage is as courage does.
Nanna clasped both Katarina's hands, and spiralled them into the crowd.
"...Have you started to find it easy? To speak to others? Have you discovered anything new about yourself?"
Laughter is not a common indulgence for Katarina, but Nanna draws it from her like air from her lungs. Cheeks flush, her head lists forward until their foreheads press together, hands laid against Nanna's elbows as if to steady a heart so bravely bared. 'The moon misses you like a lover, beautiful as you are!' Once she had believed such sweet words would turn foul when bestowed upon a creature like her, untrue and impossible. How is it, then, that Nanna makes her believe that maybe, just maybe, they could be true?
"The moon? Then, Nanna, the sun..." The sun, the sun... Alas, she does not have the same gift for words -- cannot weave them into those golden threads of conviction and love as Nanna does. But she wants to -- how desperately she wants to! If she could only put to voice a fraction of her gratitude, a quarter note of her heartbeats and how they lay within her chest more easily for all the light she has been given -- if only that, would Nanna feel even some small part of the bravery she blooms in others?
"The sun is more beautiful than I ever knew it could be," is all she can muster in its stead.
"If I'll have you...?" What a strange thing to say. And yet for Nanna, she laughs again, ever a quiet thing and yet affectionate in the fact of its existence. "Where else could I go...? Who else could I trust but you?" By no means is she a perfect student, but perhaps she has learned a thing or two of words from Nanna after all. (Only one or two, of course; she would not be so conceited.) Her smile reaches for the light in her eyes, and it is easy to follow her into the crowd. To close her eyes and trust.
"I don't know if it's easier to speak to them," Katarina answers softly, met with the darkness behind closed eyes. It had almost swallowed her once, empty heart and all; yet here she is now with a heart filled and all the aches and breakage that entailed, and she does not feel lost at all. "But... it feels a bit easier to be brave. Does that make sense...?"
She laughs again, a breeze combing through her hair.
"It sounds the same, doesn't it? But it feels different. My chest still squeezes... I'm still afraid. But when I think of the way you smile at me -- you, and everyone else that I love... I can be brave. I can do anything."
Her hand squeezes gently around Nanna's. The warmth of it promises that the dark will not have her, and that light will find her again.
"I can even dance in the dark."
[ ARCHANEA ] - An old minuet originating from the Kingdom of Archanea, a true classic that has stood the test of time. Due to its difficulty, successfully executing the dance is an achievement in and of itself.
It doesn't surprise her anymore that an Archanean dance has found its way into the ballroom of an academy oceans away. Given everything she's seen and suffered in her time here, it hardly registers; no, what truly surprises her is that someone has approached her for a dance.
"Me...?" The question slips out before she can stop herself, though a hand is quick to follow, held up firstly in reassurance-- "O-oh! I'm sorry... that was rude of me. I was just surprised..." --and secondly placed in his in quiet acceptance.
"I'm lucky that I know this one," she murmurs, nearly swallowed by the song. Her eyes drift elsewhere in the steps, but when one of them speaks, they fall quietly upon his face once more. Rapt. Curious. It is not her attention that leaves; it is just that her gaze is shy, for-- "I don't dance very often, so... hehe. I'm glad I won't step on your toes."
The song dies as all things do, but before they disappear into their separate crowds and shadows, Katarina offers him a tulip, a small fleck of white between their dark ensembles. The act feels a bit foolish; the tulip is too gentle and bright for her, just as the pearl of yesteryear had been too beautiful, and the bell before that had ripped the wallflower up by its roots...
"Ah... Thank you." The words come out softly, a bit self-conscious, but there's still a speck of light that reaches her eyes. "For the dance... it was fun." Gray eyes turn faintly crescent, marked by the thought of a smile.
"Have a good night."
[ SHAVED ICE ] - Served with a wide assortment of sweet, fruity syrups. Traditionally, it is served in bowls, but some are saying it makes for quite a refreshing sip when drank from a glass.
"I-I'm not sure how this happened..." Under the eyes of another, Katarina hurries to explain herself, only to find that she has no explanation. Between them on the refreshments table sits a bowl of shaved ice, its hue utterly strange. Beneath the mottled icecap, the syrup pools darkly, richly black, though its passage through the treat surely left staggeringly unappetizing gray streaks throughout.
"I, I thought it might be fun to mix flavors...!" Who knew that those bright colors would turn out like this? Flustered, a hand darts out to cover it, as if shielding Dorothea from her unsightly creation. "I didn't realize it'd turn out so... gross..."
Wait, it sounds worse saying it out loud. With a grimace, Katarina shakes her head and reaches for another bowl, still shielding the first from sight. Ah-- should she make it up to her with a flower, too? That seems only right. Quite apologetically, she holds up a new bowl and a new flower at once.
"I'm so sorry for the hassle... Here, you can have some of my tulips, if... you want. And I'll make you a new one--! A normal one...!"
[ CHOCOLATE ] - Stefanelli's has partnered with the monastery to make the most of the supplies left in excess of their workshops earlier in the year by offering packages of sweet chocolates for attendees. The offerings appear generous... that is, until you open your box to find it only half full.
She's partway through a mouthful of chocolate when Yunaka appears beside her. A gloved hand covers her mouth as Katarina hurries to turn and nod her head in greeting, eyes sheepishly upturned.
"...hello Yunaka," comes the quiet greeting, bashful like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, never mind the fact the chocolates were a gift given to every attendee. Still she smiles in her quiet way at the sight of her, holding forward her modest box of treats.
"You look very pretty today." Where did her fondness for stars come from? They catch the light in her hair, gold bouncing off of silver -- is it them that make her radiant, or her that gives them light? Regardless, she is only human; perhaps she is hungry, too.
"Would you like some...?" Katarina tips the box toward her in invitation. "I was just trying each of the flavors..." She hardly needs so many, after all, but if she knows what they taste like, then she can better share them with the others. "Oh... actually, do you have a favorite?" A quiet breath of a laugh. "You can have more of that one, if you want... I don't mind."
[ SHAVED ICE ] - Served with a wide assortment of sweet, fruity syrups. Traditionally, it is served in bowls, but some are saying it makes for quite a refreshing sip when drank from a glass.
Something refreshing and sweet, what a perfect combination of flavours and for Sakura, who was craving for something thirst-quenching after the long night; walking among the several tables serving different delicacies on each side, the petite priestess couldn’t help but widely smile at the sight of a familiar face, all wrapped up in a very seductive dark dress, crowing her outfit, a bouquet of tulips, a colour touch that definitely suited the entire attire.
“It’s been a while, Miss Katarina!” she still addressed her politely, even though she knew she could consider her as a friend by now, “I hope you’re doing good, it’s nice to see you here at the ball” she glanced at the flowers, “Tulips, aren’t’ them? Quite the perfect choice for you” she candidly smiled, shifting her gaze on the table, gazing at a very juicy and fruity bowl. “Are you here to refresh your mouth as well?”
"Sakura...!" Katarina's eyes brighten when her friend approaches, turning away from the table and toward her in full. Her dress is much like her personality: vivid, sweet, and beautiful. The flowers that adorn it especially -- like spring, but with a much brighter spark. "I'm happy to see you here, too. You look wonderful tonight... Your dress is almost as pretty as you."
Lashes flutter a flurry of blinks at the compliment she receives in turn, cheeks shyly tinged pink. "P-perfect?" She doesn't quite understand it, certainly doesn't feel it... but in spite of that, it makes her happy that Sakura thinks so. "...hehe. Thank you."
Turning a soft smile toward her bouquet, the mage's fingers hover over a few blooms in turn, searching for a particularly pretty one to offer her.
"But I think... flowers suit you even better, Sakura."
The conversation turns back to the shaved ice, and Katarina's gaze back to her modest bowl, radiating a pleasant cool against the hand left on the table.
"Yes, I am. I was getting a bit warm, and... would you like some?" Already her hand gravitates toward another bowl, ready to serve up a sweet treat to her friend. "What flavor? Mine is blueberry, but I haven't tried it yet..."
[ PHOTO-ARTIFEX ] - The ever-popular photo-artifex makes its annual return, allowing users to capture pictures in as little as a flash of light and a moment. Take home something to remember the event by!
"They had something like this in Fortuna, didn't they...?" Katarina looks up at the device, holding it slightly overhead, lens pointed toward the window and ceiling. With a gentle touch, she turns it and adjusts, watching the intersection of day and dusk grow nearer, farther, and nearer again. "But it didn't turn into something you could touch like this, usually..."
She points it at Niles next, unaware that this new and improved photo-artifex isn't quite tall enough to hide the quiet smile behind it. Her finger taps against the button, but nothing clicks; she hadn't yet actually asked if he wanted a picture taken, after all.
"...I like it, though." Lowering her hands, she glances back at him, at the bouquet in his hands. Lilies seem a much happier flower than roses. But it's a bit rude of her to keep looking back on the past like this, isn't it? Despite everything, when she had emerged from the mirror, somehow she had brought her friendships with her.
"...Niles, is it okay if we take a picture together? W-we could trade flowers, and..." A sheepish little laugh swallows the rest of her words, if she'd ever had them. But she doesn't need to keep justifying herself, does she? They're friends. Aren't they? Her smile grows despite itself. They only need to be. "It sounds... fun."
"Yeah, I remember." Niles nods, watching as Katarina inspected the device. Under different circumstances, maybe he would have grown to like Fortuna a bit more but the memories he'd made with her, Louis and the others they'd been on the mission with were some he found himself reflecting on more recently. "It's hard to believe it's almost been a year, huh?" Plenty has happened between now and then though.
For a moment he glances around for the rest of their teammates. He needed to find them later, just to catch up and see how they were doing. Maybe see if he could snag a flower if they were willing. For now, his focus was Katarina. "I'd love that. Come here." He gestures for her to close the space between them and then plucks one of his lilies from his bouquet to pass it off to her.
"Let's take two. That way we can both have one. Pass it here, Kat-Kat?" Louis and his nicknames. Somehow it stuck and he'd ended up using it too. Niles holds his hand out for the device with one hand and slides his other arm around her shoulder while he waits for her to get herself situated. And then he extends his arm out with the lens pointed at them. His finger presses the button once and then a second time before two small photos slide out of the small slot at the front. "You think they turned out well?"
Kat-Kat. That does more to make her smile as the photo-artifex shutters than he'll ever know. When the pictures come out, the angles are a bit skewed, the edges a bit blurry, and seeing their smiles, Katarina bursts into a small fit of laughter. It is as much amusement as it is delight.
"I think... they're perfect. Thank you."
“…I like your usual outfit better. It’s more… you. But this is good, too. It’s…”
He’d been turning that conversation in his mind over and over again in the days leading up to this, in between training or doing his duty as a Knight of Seiros. There had been the thought, at least a few times throughout, that he could just show up to the ball in his day-to-day ensemble since dressing up wasn’t required or necessarily expected of the staff. That he would mostly only be there to stand guard anyway, unlike the majority looking to enjoy themselves and forget all their worries for an evening. …Or something along those lines.
When he considered how that would look next to her though, her and the dresses she’d taken to wearing… Well, what’s another outfit that’ll only see the light of day once in a blue moon? He should be grateful there was at least one tailor in town willing to accept what was nearly a last-minute request.
(It likely helped that he offered to pay extra for the trouble. And that he didn’t want something very complicated at all.)
“Katarina.” Kris finds his way to her first thing, as soon as he’s accepted the flower bouquet pushed into his hands—staff aren’t exempt from playing along is the usual explanation, whether or not one is actually interested in doing so. He isn’t, not really; they’d talked about that once, the memory still tucked away somewhere in one of his mental boxes. Maybe it’s the reality of time’s passage dulling the luster of these things. Maybe it’s because talking alone has never quite been enough for him to really know someone.
He isn’t interested, but she is, and that makes it easier to go through with his impulsive, not-very-thought-out-at-all decision when next he opens his mouth to speak. “You look…” Will it be weird if he says beautiful again, just like he did last year? “You look stunning this time, too.”
The silver lining to the flowers, if he can call it that, is that the petals are just about a perfect match for her hair when he holds up the whole bouquet in offering. “Here. Been thinking about it since the moment I noticed, but they suit you really well.”
There’s no one else he’d rather give them to more, anyway.
"Oh...!" For as fond as she is of greeting him -- one of her favorite parts of any day -- when Katarina turns, she forgets to say anything else entirely. He's dressed up again in an outfit she doesn't recognize when she knows he much prefers dressing down, and that quiet voice in her chest wonders why? Has he met someone he wants to look good for? Does his attire match someone else in this great ballroom? And... was it foolish of her to think she would know, when the time came for her to let go?
...Whatever the case, if there's one thing she's certain of, it's that it must be nothing to do with her.
"Kris," she answers with a smile that threatens to pull at her cheeks. Love can be such a narrow thing at times, but when she looks at him and sees that a bit of color has returned to him, it swells in her chest nearly enough to burst. A hand darts up to her lips as though her knuckles might silence and suppress the laugh that follows, a far too delighted thing.
"...I like this one better than last year," she almost teases, but she is far too relieved to do so. After all, she has seen him these past years -- watched the shadows darken under his eyes and his smile, an uncommon and precious thing, become rarer and rarer still. Nearly lost, she had worried at times, but... she has not the words to put it to voice, but this dark and gentle blue has always put her at ease. She giggles again. "Blue suits you."
Stunning. He thinks she looks stunning. Again. Again? But she has to stay exactly where she is, not a heartbeat out of line, the bouquet accepted without protest when what she sees first is how it makes a splendid shield to hide behind. Petals brush against cheeks in blush, eyes turned downward so that he cannot meet them, cannot see through her as she fears he would. It is hard to believe that flowers might suit her, but maybe it is not so dissimilar as to why she likes it when he wears blue.
(Maybe it is not so dissimilar as to why she likes it when he wears blue.)
"Thank you..." A beat; her head snaps up, realizing only just now that she holds not just a single bloom. "W-wait, all of them--? But what about your-- y, your prize?" As if she doesn't already know it doesn't matter to him all that much. Then again, she hadn't expected him to dress up for a second year, either.
"Are... you sure?" She pulls the bouquet away from her heart, if a bit reluctantly. Instead she looks for a tulip. It would look like a star in his shirt pocket... if he'd had one. But it's not like she can force him to carry around a single flower all night -- should she tuck it into his bouquet and give it back? Surely he wouldn't wear it behind his ear...! It would look charming, though. Katarina shakes her head vigorously.
"Then, can I give you a flower, too?" Her smile takes on a sheepish curl. "You don't have to keep it, but... you've always given me so much. Let me give you something, too."
[ PHOTO-ARTIFEX ] - The ever-popular photo-artifex makes its annual return, allowing users to capture pictures in as little as a flash of light and a moment. Take home something to remember the event by!
"They had something like this in Fortuna, didn't they...?" Katarina looks up at the device, holding it slightly overhead, lens pointed toward the window and ceiling. With a gentle touch, she turns it and adjusts, watching the intersection of day and dusk grow nearer, farther, and nearer again. "But it didn't turn into something you could touch like this, usually..."
She points it at Niles next, unaware that this new and improved photo-artifex isn't quite tall enough to hide the quiet smile behind it. Her finger taps against the button, but nothing clicks; she hadn't yet actually asked if he wanted a picture taken, after all.
"...I like it, though." Lowering her hands, she glances back at him, at the bouquet in his hands. Lilies seem a much happier flower than roses. But it's a bit rude of her to keep looking back on the past like this, isn't it? Despite everything, when she had emerged from the mirror, somehow she had brought her friendships with her.
"...Niles, is it okay if we take a picture together? W-we could trade flowers, and..." A sheepish little laugh swallows the rest of her words, if she'd ever had them. But she doesn't need to keep justifying herself, does she? They're friends. Aren't they? Her smile grows despite itself. They only need to be. "It sounds... fun."