The beautiful princess of peerless beauty!

Golden Deer student at the Officers Academy! The beautiful banisher of darkness herself, ready to vanqiush monstrocities and spread her tale!

[encantresse]

[ ♫ ]  ─  * 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

distress / +1 reason

[encantresse]

how quickly things turn from bad to worse. on one hand, she'd been lucky not to twist an ankle in her fall, and it was fortunate, too, that l'arachel's blows land as faithfully as they do—though retaliation is as swift as it is ruthless, with slashing claws and frigid gales that immobilize.

damn. the monsters circle l'arachel, their lips pulled back into snarls that reveal teeth unlike those of normal wolves. even from where she stands, with how the creatures illuminate the woods with that strange glow they emit, dorothea makes out three rows of teeth: two on the top, one on the bottom, and every tooth the size and shape of canines.

a strike of thoron rings out, only managing to singe the beast's fur. or rather, if it could, it would, but it does little for the icicles clinging to fur like frosted armor. the crackle of the spell instead irks the monsters just enough that they turn to her and growl, sending dorothea scrambling backward and firing off two additional shots of nova. one large burst of magic after the other, and still the creatures dodge, the larger of the two swinging its serpentine tail to knock her off her feet and onto the frozen ground. the impact leaves her winded, but not so much that she can't frantically roll over before the jagged tail comes crashing down.

eyes darting in the direction of her frozen ally, dorothea rolls a few more times so that l'arachel is lined up in the path of her next attack. hand raised, she summons bursts of fire with what remaining energy she can muster, sending fireballs brushing past the other to strike the first monster square in the chest, sending it howling and stumbling straight into its companion. she seizes the chance to scramble to her feet, casting a healing spell to engulf l'arachel in familiar white light.

[far-from-common]

Dorothea manages to distract the beasts long enough for L’Arachel to be spared from becoming a frozen treat for the wolves; there was never any true doubt in her mind! Honestly, she is most impressed with Dorothea; this is not the easiest of fights and yet she stands her ground instead of turning tail!

She watches, quite excited, as Dorothea throws down more attacks towards their beasts, the beasts crashing into each other from a most impressive display of fire. As she feels the heat of the attack, and as her companion’s soothing magic washes over her, the first thing L’Arachel does upon regaining movement of her body is loudly cheer.

“Most spectacular, my friend! Now, let us strike whilst we still can!” With a smirk, she sprints forward; the ice wolf that got the brunt of Dorothea’s attack is still incapacitated, but the other one is starting to get its bearings once more.

Nearly losing balance on a patch of iced over grass, L’Arachel decides to close the remaining distance to the beast by leaping high into the air, planning to slam her gauntlets down upon it.

Her strike scrapes the beast’s side, opening up a large gash from which cold blood starts to spill; enough to cause a yelp and agitate it, but not enough to finish the job.

She follows her strike up by lunging at the monster before it can lunge at her, crashing into it and wrapping one of her arms around its neck. It tries to make itself painfully cold as a last ditch effort, but it shall take more than mere pain to deter L’Arachel!

Swiftfully, she plunges the gauntlets into the beast’s head; the thrashing slows down. A few follow-up strikes, and it stops moving entirely.

Whilst she is quite thrilled at this, L’Arachel chooses to remain in place, clutching her side with a fake grimace. Hopefully this shall cause the remaining beast to target her instead; she has full faith that Dorothea shall take it out if so.

[warpaway]

first of all, my elbows AREN'T greasy.

excavation || reason +1

[warpaway]

linhardt doesn't realize how poorly they're taking these revelations until l'arachel points it out.  they're surprised, too, that she could see that in them.  it's simple fact that they're strange and uncommon in how they behave, so either l'arachel is especially perceptive, or…

well, it doesn't matter so much to him, right now.  she asked him a question, and he will answer.

“i don't know what good i am without magic,” they respond, their voice quieter than they'd intended.

“i bear saint cethleann's crest.  my whole life, that's been the only thing people expect of me that i've been perfectly fine with fulfilling.  and to those without magic…”

linhardt's lip curls upwards in disgust, his face losing a bit of color.  “they have to deal more with the most disgusting aspects of healing.  all the sinew and the… blood.”

[far-from-common]

L’Arachel cannot say she has much practical experience with the concept of these crests. She has read up on them, of course, it would be foolish to move to a new land and not familiarize herself with the basics, but she has never really gotten a chance to talk about one with someone who has one. If she is understanding correctly, for Linhardt, the crest seems to either allow them to cast healing magic or just improves the potency of it. Either way, he seems completely lost without it, which makes L’Arachel feel quite sympathetic. After all, she herself has managed to successfully expand her horizons; if she can help out someone who has yet to do so, she shall gladly do it. “Dealing with all of that is most unpleasant, I agree. Yet… sometimes it is the only option available. It is good that we are both talented at healing but sometimes even the most magnificent people alive can fall short. If you wish, I can teach you the basics.” She offers. She could go on and on about how important this is to a healer, but truth be told that is not the main issue to focus on. Instead, she puts her hand comfortingly on Linhardt’s shoulder as she speaks once more.

“I cannot claim to know how much pressure it is to be someone with a crest, but… I am most certain that having it does not define you at all. It would be quite the terrible world we live in otherwise.” She shakes her head.

“I am a princess of the theocracy of Rausten. I am also a skilled healer. Yet neither of these are my defining characteristics. Sure, I am quite possibly the most radiant princess to exist, and my healing is beyond compare. But in addition to that I am a monster hunter, a skilled dancer, a talented melee fighter, and quite the talented actress, amongst others. I am not simply one of these qualities, but rather all of them at once.” She looks quite proud of her explanation.

“You are talented at healing and magic in general. And that is quite incredible. But there is most certainly more to you than that. And if anyone thinks otherwise, they are quite stupid.” She gives them a confident nod, one that morphs into a grin as a brilliant idea forms in her head.

“I think, with how they treated us inside the infirmary, they can wait on us however long we want. As such, I would like to use this newfound time to get to know you, my newfound friend. Other than healing, what sort of things do you think you are good at? And what is it you enjoy?” She gives him an easygoing grin as she makes herself comfortable; hopeful that this shall get him to see more of his own worth.

And if that fails, she shall try other methods to help them. After all, though she would never vocalize this, she too has felt lost and unsure before.

[senerist]

quests aren't real. you don't have to do them.

excavation || authority +1

[senerist]

As much as soren loathes to be reduced to errand boy, he supposes it's a fitting compromise.  L'arachel all but gives him express orders to steal, and he's never had a problem with skirting rules when they were no longer beneficial to him.

In a way, it's a bit of an unwanted nostalgia that hits him as he watches the fruit vendor's eyes to find an opening to pilfer food.  soren pushes it out of his mind and tucks the orange into his sleeve before returning to the glassblower.

he lies.  he tells the tradesman that the fruit vendor sent him with a single orange to prove he had the fruit ready for him, but wasn't willing to give any more than one to an outsider to deliver.

As soon as soren identified himself as an outsider - as some one who doesn't belong here - the glassblower opened up, as though he'd been merely waiting for soren to confess the truth.

“I'm much kinder than she is,” he says, when he sets the orange down and returns to some crates.  “I trust you to take all these jars to Jamie yourself, sooooo…”

He heaves the crate of wares across the counter, as though he expects soren to match his strength and take them.  In the interest of avoiding another event, soren makes an attempt.

he ends up bent backwards, ears burning angrily as the glassmaker laughs and waddles out of the establishment doing his best not to just drop the whole package the moment he makes it outside.

“L'arachel!” he barks, the moment he knows he's in earshot.  he doesn't have the breath to say any more.

[far-from-common]

Soren’s voice makes L’Arachel jump; she prepares herself as she turns around to have to come up with a bunch of inane excuses, or at worst, start making a hasty retreat out of Burrowhaven.

Yet, thankfully, all that she sees is her companion, a crateful of jars held in his seemingly struggling arms. She cheerfully hops over to assist, fully ready to conclude this cavalcade of quests.

“There had never been a single doubt in my mind that you could do it, professor Soren.” She lets out a boisterous laugh, before taking the crate off of him and carrying it without too much issue; she briefly thinks of how far she had come. The L’Arachel of a few months ago would have struggled a bit more. This is why one always strives to improve themselves!

“Let us head over to the dye-maker and start untangling this mess! We can walk slowly so that you may regain composure, though the swifter we leave, the less likely our deceit shall be found out.” She offers as she slowly starts walking forward, crate firmly held in her arms so as to not let anything happen to the jars.

“I shall admit. Whilst I still am… not fully at ease with the trickery we have done, I cannot deny that it was in fact quite a good plan. I shudder to think of us having to run around to even more places. So… you have my gratitude.” She gives him a bright smile.

[far-from-common]

The Pigeonhole Problem

mission board: anniversary 2025 || flying +1

[azurelunae]

Eirika watches and listens to her friend with earnest interest. This is a rare opportunity to learn from someone so strong willed. The kind of confidence she displays is so like her brother's and at the same, so very not like his. She has never been able to grasp how he does it so perhaps she might learn from L'Arachel.

The bird flies over as she commands, though it takes an odd pattern, and when it returns it comes bearing another sugar cube. She wonders where it had picked up such a habit. She misses the way it nods to the other birds.

After L'Arachel's demonstration, Eirika claps. It only feels polite to. "I shall try as well!"

Eirika scoops up her bird to then go stand by her friend's side and holds out her arm.

Fully confident. No room for doubt. "Fly to your seeds and eat!" Her voice is louder than she intends but she does not waver. The bird alights from her arm and flies over to the pile of seeds much as the first had. It also comes back with...

"...Ah, what's this?" It drops the sugar cube in her hand. Eirika blinks at it.

...Is she being trained too? She had only said it to tease L'Arachel.

"Thank you. You're very considerate birds, aren't you? You could deliver messages faster than any other birds, I'm positive." She nods and the bird nods back at her. Oh, how adorable!

[far-from-common]

“Very good Eirika! Your confidence is monumental and the birds clearly know it!” L’Arachel claps at her friend’s booming voice, so effortlessly commanding the clever bird to the seeds. They seem to be quite comfortable with this distance now, so it is time to test them further!

“Follow along, birds! Let us make sure you’re even more well trained!” With that simple command, her main bird friend, as well as all the other spectators, happily followed Rausten’s princess as she moved further away, the hatchery and the seeds laid out barely in view.

“Now, go forth birds! Fly to and fro and prove how magnificent you are!” L’Arachel commands, leading to a whole flurry of birds flying out. With a proud look on her face, she turns towards Eirika.

“I am most certain that soon, we shall be able to test an even further distance; me standing at one end and you the other! Sending actual correspondence to each other! How very exciting!” She positively beams, mind already pondering how magnificent these birds are.

These birds, which seem to have returned already! L’Arachel lets out an impressed hum as she goes to pet the most bold and friendly one, another sugar cube offered up to her.

The sugar cube is followed up with a number of things from the other birds; a piece of gold, a fancy button, some seeds of her own, one of them even dropped off a spoon! L’Arachel cannot help but let out a thrilled laugh.

“How amazing these birds are, would you not say Eirika? So skilled and friendly!” She turns towards the birds again, trying to pet as many of them as she can at once. “Who shall be the best group of carrier pigeons to exist? You shall!”

[azurelunae]

getting a good grade in popularity is something that is both normal to want and is possible to achieve

[azurelunae]

Eirika shakes her head. "It is a lot to happen all at once. It's understandable that you would react badly. I believe...I truly thought you knew of Selena. She is a professor here. I know she was once a general of Grado but she was appointed that role before the war. She is a good person and warned me of Valter's presence here. Both Myrrh and my brother vouched for her. My brother would have even recruited her to our side, as he did General Duessel, but she was steadfast in her loyalty despite Grado's state."

She hopes that she can at least reassure her of this much. Whatever L'Arachel may decide about her.

...Siblings. The only person she has ever thought of as one is her brother, her twin, and thinking of someone else on the same level as him...it feels impossible to her. Yet, that does not make L'Arachel's confession anymore poignant to her. In fact, it makes her heart ache in a rather unexpected way. To be thought of so dearly...

She wants to tell her about how she and Ephraim grew up without their mother and the strict rules their father held them to, and how his loss had affected them both. How it still does. In that light, she can absolutely understand L'Arachel's reaction. They are truly not so different. But the words stick in her throat and then the moment passes.

"I agree. We should have told you. It was you who told us that Lyon's soul could not be saved and yet here he is. If you are still willing, it would put our hearts at ease to have your word on the matter. And I am sure that Lyon would answer anything you ask to the best of his capability."

Thinking of it now, she knows the desire to keep him to themselves, to not mention him at all, was a means of protecting him and a vain hope to hold together this careful peace. It was truly only a matter of time before things turned out this way.

"Oh, L'Arachel, of course we still wish to be your friends. That has never changed." Eirika leans in and wraps her arms around her for a long, overdue embrace. This is something she needs too.

When they part, Eirika reaches for her hands and holds them. "What you said a moment ago, about seeing us as siblings... it means so much to hear you say that. You mean so much to me, L'Arachel." She squeezes her hands.

There's more she wishes she could say but the words do not come. She hopes that L'Arachel understands her all the same, or will graciously give her the time to someday say the words she wishes to.

[far-from-common]

There are a lot of things to think on with what Eirika has said, but right now, all she can focus on is the comfort of her embrace, as well as the words that come after they part.

That she is happy L’Arachel thinks of them that way, it makes her heart swell. That she is glad she thinks of her that way and that she means so much to her in kind. Mayhaps Eirika might not feel exactly the same but… does it matter? She is happy simply knowing that Eirika cares about her.

Eventually, she lets go; she does not want to, but she cannot keep Eirika here in perpetuity. “Thank you for everything, my dear friend. I… while I cannot say I am feeling fully like my magnificent self still, I am feeling better than I had when I ran off.” She gives her a gentle smile, small and shaky but genuine all the same.

“After the ball is over, I shall try and request Uncle to send over copies of Rausten’s lore. Mayhaps there is something in there that has been overlooked. For now, however, having spoken to Lyon, I am… content enough about his stability.” She nods confidently, determination on her face.

“I promise you, I shall do my best so that nothing shall have to wrest the three of you apart again.”

The determination fades as quickly as it appeared however, and L’Arachel finds another swarm of thoughts starting to form in her mind.

“If it is quite alright, would you be willing to head back without me? I think I still need some fresh air.” She gives Eirika an apologetic look, before moving to make herself more comfortable sitting down on the ground; she does not plan on coming back inside anytime soon.

Pointedly, L’Arachel had not said a word about Selena; what good would it make? Eirika, Ephraim, Myrrh, all of them vouching for her. And yet, L’Arachel just… cannot accept it so easily. Not yet. At least with Lyon she had an… excuse, but here?

She tries to let the thoughts dissipate, focusing on the cool air hitting her body, the quiet buzz of the Ball still audible from outside, the beautiful night sky. On simple things that are happening right now. The past is too sad, and the future too weird, so taking solace in the present is all she can do.

[End]

[sacretic]

no, not everyone from grado is alive

event: ethereal ball 2026 | continued

[sacretic]

Lyon sucks in his breath at the unexpected kindness and warmth of her hands. He didn't expect her to believe him — just like that, without further interrogation. By now, a pang of conscience is old and familiar like a friend in his ever-fragile heart; she doesn't know the full story. Would she sing a different tune if she did?

"...I'll keep your words in mind." Lyon doesn't make a promise, but they are at least something and far better than a flat-out no, I can't do that.

He no longer lives like an afterthought, a figure bound to fade from memory with time, but neither does he live life to its fullest. He sees more sunlight than he did at the start of his self-imposed exile. But living underground and guarding the secret of Garreg Mach's hidden fourth house? Those aren't part of a regular student's life.

However, he cannot bring himself to embrace light with wide-open arms.

Or perhaps he doesn't know how to do it, while the guilt is ever-consuming. It became shackles around his wrists, his ankles, his neck, and his heart.

"But... I... I don't intend to give my friends a reason to grieve..." Ducking his head, the Grado prince gently pulls back. He thinks of Ephraim's arms around him and Eirika's tears. Dying or disappearing again won't grant them peace; he has learned that.

"And for what it's worth... I apologize for any pain I may have caused you. You don't need to respond — or forgive me," Lyon emphasizes the last part because he doesn't seek to absolve himself. Forgiveness isn't a luxury that he has earned. Or rather, how can he ask for forgiveness when he hasn't even forgiven himself?

[far-from-common]

He intends to live at least, which is quite good enough for her currently. She wishes the other answer was something less non-committal but… she cannot do all the work for him. 

Sure, for some people, simply knowing of L’Arachel’s existence is reason enough to improve their life, but for those for whom that (somehow) is not the case, all L’Arachel can do is try to gently nudge them towards happiness.

And… somewhat begrudgingly, she hopes Lyon does find his happiness. For what else can she hope for? Wishing for anything else, it would feel like betraying Eirika and Ephraim. And even though she may be mad at them, she just… cannot. She cannot imagine wishing for something that would make them miserable.

So, she speaks up again, to talk with Lyon properly.

“You deserve honesty, so I shall give it to you. While I accept your apology… I cannot say I am able to say it is all fine; that I can simply forget everything that has happened. But… I am more than willing to give you a chance. I want to get to know the Lyon that Ephraim and Eirika know. To be able to learn more about you, and to be able to truly forgive you. And who knows, mayhaps my radiance shall be so bright that it will break through some of your gloom.” She lets out a very slight chuckle.

“Does that sound agreeable?” She holds out her hand, in expectation of a handshake.

Hopefully it shall come soon, and then the two of them can leave this blasted room so that L’Arachel can go back to focusing on the enjoyable parts of the Ethereal Ball. She is certain she shall feel so much better once she shows everyone how gracefully she can dance.

[End]

[far-from-common]

Flora heals an aching soul!

L'Arachel and Thrasir - post anamorphosis

[willowitxh]

L'Arachel couldn't make others look at her and see someone more than a monster. That simply wasn't how people worked. And Thrasir was okay with that. No you aren't. But the offer of assistance... maybe one day the lich would find need to call on L'Arachel's kindness. Or her strength. Either way....

........ Thrasir had allies.

What an odd turn of events... She never would have expected this when she first arrived at Garreg Mach. She hummed... her... offering trust with her own secret.... it had paid off. And somehow... the lack of screams.... was...

nice...

"I am grateful for the offer," she hummed. "...... I do...... understand the lonely upbringing though... mine was..... much the same."

She just... wished she had learned to value companions before she had died. She was glad that her younger self had overcome her blood curse and could value her companions now. Perhaps Thrasir could now do the same. Value companions who weren't Líf. She instead offered L'Arachel a crooked and unpracticed smile.

"That world had many things, but... it was a false reality," she hummed. "Perhaps such inventions might be made in the future.... though I do agree, they can keep their Basket Ball."

A foolish game. She hated it.

"I... did.... appreciate a moment of... being alive again," she admitted. "But I think we can still take lessons learned there and apply them here. And... I do look forward to moving forward from the experience with you, and .... the rest of our allies too."

[far-from-common]

The smile on Thrasir’s face, the companionship and understanding the two find in each other… a large part of L’Arachel’s heart swells with happiness and joy at it all.

A smaller part however still feels a pain of shame at her initial thoughts to Thrasir. She shall simply have to do better, and make sure others follow in kind, whether willingly or after a stern talking to from her.

“I feel the same way, my dear friend. While my thoughts may occasionally linger still towards that world, I cannot wait to take the bonds we forged and strengthen them here, in the place we truly belong.” She proudly smiles, her expression quickly softening as she continues.

“I shall strive for this to truly be true for you as well, Thrasir. You said your arrival here was not welcoming; whilst fixing the past is one of the few skills I am lacking in, I will make sure the future shall treat you with the respect and appreciation you deserve.” She gives her friend a determined nod, before her face relaxes once more, and she allows herself to lay down on the blanket.

“It truly is quite the lovely day today. Laying like this, I cannot help but find all my worries simply vanishing.” It is this sort of peace that L’Arachel hopes that everyone shall be able to enjoy one day, the peace that keeps her dutifully on her quest to slay monsters.

“Since our return, have you seen or experienced any bemusing, trifling situations? For I have plenty to share and laugh about together, but I am most willing to let you share first; otherwise I may end up simply throwing out story after story with careless abandon.” She lets out a boisterous laugh, one which hides her anticipation; hopefully Thrasir will join in with sharing silly little occurrences the two of them have seen recently. 

Both because she is quite intrigued about the goings on in the monastery and the surrounding areas, but mostly because she truly wants Thrasir to feel included; to get to join in on something as silly and inconsequential as sharing stories during a picnic. After all, is there anything more human than that?

[azurelunae]

a gift more precious than gold

cont. from xx

[azurelunae]

Eirika is grateful for whatever L'Arachel is willing to share. If she did not wish to, she would not pry any further, but it appears the princess is willing to tell her something.

Of course, it takes quite awhile for L'Arachel to say what exactly happened, meandering this way and that with her tale until finally...

Eirika stares in disbelief. He had... Oh, he had... The sister in her wants to laugh until her belly aches, but she only sighs.

"Oh, Brother... I had wondered. Thank you, L'Arachel. I hope it did not cause any discomfort for you. Ephraim has been focused on the future of Renais and I believe that being away from home has him more focused on it than ever. However, I did not expect him to propose to anyone." Least of all L'Arachel, but she supposes her brother had never picked up on the woman's preferences.

L'Arachel's recounting of it does manage to make her smile. "If he was going to be turned down by anyone, I am glad it was you."

[far-from-common]

“We have talked it out quite maturely, do not fear at all, dear Eirika.” L’Arachel attempts to reassure her friend. “I can understand his worries; and all things considered I am flattered he thought marrying me would help strengthen both our countries.” She gives a proud look, though one that fades quickly as confusion replaces it.

 “Come to think of it, I am shocked and possibly appalled that more people have not been proposing to me. Mayhaps I have been getting too complacent here!” She pouts, before shaking her head. Redoubling her efforts shall be later, for now, she should focus on her dear friend.

“I think you being here will help out as well; I have a feeling all of us have missed you quite a lot, Eirika. I know I most certainly have.” She laughs, her expression resting on a fond smile.

“I hope it does not need to be stated that, regardless of marital status, I shall always be happy to assist you and Ephraim as a friend.”

[surebow]

that stick is really lodged in there huh

( TOA anniversary 2025 — sword +1 )

[surebow]

What in the gods' name is she talking about now? Her stick is perfectly fine in her hands - then why? He opens his mouth to defend himself, but it clicks before he can speak.

He can't imagine what her plan would be, but Innes trusts her. If he could trust her with his life, surely he can trust her with this. He looks at her before giving a short nod.

"Me? I would never sabotage. You are the saboteur among the two of us. Let us face it - you cannot face the fact that I am a superior royal to you, and Frelia could best Rausten with only a thought."

Does he really believe this? That remains to be seen.

"And besides that, I-" He snaps a twig under his foot. His stick is quickly dropped and swapped for a half. "You! How could you!" He waves the stick at her. "You feared losing so much that you would break my stick? Treacherous witch!"

[far-from-common]

Ever dependable, Innes is; for all that can be said about him, and L’Arachel could say a lot, her trust is not misplaced with him.

She lets out a boisterous laugh; one befitting of someone gloating about their evil, stick breaking plans.

“You complain about me breaking your puny stick when you yourself have struck first? I am neither treacherous nor a witch Innes, unlike you!” She points an accusatory finger at him, waiting a moment before continuing to speak.

It sounds to her like two different pairs of footsteps. It seems her and Innes were not the only ones with a genius plan. Whoever their opponents, though, they are woefully unmatched for Frelia and Rausten’s finest.

“I do not know the reason for which you act like you have not destroyed my precious stick, but it does not matter, for I know why you did it. Pure and simple jealousy. Even now, the lack of confidence you exhibit is so laughable, Innes. That is why it was so easy for me to destroy your stick in kind.” She lets out yet another boisterous laugh; the footsteps get closer. Just a moment more.

“Enough pointless bickering, Innes; my voice is far too valuable to waste here.” She pauses for a moment; silently thankful that their opponents are sneaking up from behind her so that they do not see the massive struggle on her face as to not laugh.

“We shall settle this with a fight. Riiiiiight here, riiiiiiiiiiight… NOW!”

With a yell, her grip on her stick tightens as she ducks and twirls around; her weapon dutifully striking at the legs of one of the would-be attackers. She quickly jumps back upon doing so; putting distance between herself and their opponents and being able to finally look them in the face. Two unremarkable looking men with sticks clearly inferior; it almost feels a waste to have put in all the theatrics.

“Have you two enjoyed our grand performance? We worked quite hard on it. Brilliant idea, snapping a twig, Innes my friend.”

[far-from-common]

Someone will die. Of fun!

mission board: anniversary 2025 || faith +1

[corvusi]

Some of these trinkets are small enough to be kept as souvenirs... like really expensive souvenirs. And although Henry is really, really itching to take one behind the butler's back and store it in his own comfortable pocket, he instead keeps his hands clasped in front of him. A nod at the warning, and Henry murmurs back, "Not a problem! I think the guy will absolutely loooooove us. Don't you think so, Mister Butler?"

The butler raises an eyebrow, and then knocks on the door. "Lord Bellmere, I have guests for you." His voice sounds like liquid gold, suddenly smooth compared to the subtle sharpness he carried with them both. "They are interested in purchasing some of the fair maiden's tears."

There's no response.

Another knock from the butler. "Lord Bellmere?"

Nope, nothing. Henry is starting to bounce on his heels as he stares the door down with narrowed violet. How do you lose an entire noble?

More knocking, this time louder and more rapid — knockknockknock. "Lord Bellmere, are you in—"

"Aw, you're too polite!" Henry chirps. "At this point, you might as well—" A reach for the handle confirms that the door is locked, and Henry pauses as the butler stares at him with eyebrows nearly raised to his hairline, as if asking 'you might as well... what?'. But, erm, Henry isn't here to disappoint, so: "—break in, nya ha!"

His hands glow violet with shadow, and before the butler even has a chance to interject, Henry is already firing at the door. The door explodes — luckily, it wasn't a strong enough hit to explode more than that — as a plume of sawdust floods the entryway. Before the butler or L'Arachel have a chance to say anything, Henry peers through the dust and—

He blinks. "There's nobody here."

[far-from-common]

Maybe. Just maybe. There is such a thing as too much enthusiasm. Or maybe L’Arachel has brought in a cobbler to do a blacksmith’s job, so to say.

Immediately turning towards the Butler, she gives him a bashful look.

“I apologize for my companion; he is quite the eccentric you see. One of those brilliant, one of a kind minds that sees things differently than the rest. I shall iron out the details with lord Bellmere about the door later, but first…” She peeks into the room confused; it is quite more of the same in terms of clashing, gaudy decor, though some of it by the desk seems to be in slight disarray.

“I am assuming by your surprise that Lord Bellmere was supposed to be in his study?” L’Arachel crooks her eyebrow at the servant.

“W-why yes, he came up here about an hour ago. I believe he had sold some tears earlier today, so he planned to count his earnings and do some paperwork.” The butler offered up, attempting to maintain as much professionalism as he could, but unable to stop the mixture of worry and bafflement on his face.

“I see. Do you mind if w- if I look around? Attempt to find some hints as to his whereabouts. After all, a man does not ordinarily vanish from a locked room, does he?” L’Arachel offers; partially to get in good standing with the staff, and partially so she herself may figure out what has happened to this man. If he is gone, mayhaps the maiden shall end up freed, but she can see her just as easily auctioned off to the highest bidder.

“I suppose extra investigative power could be acceptable.” He relents with a sigh. “However, I strongly request you do not destroy anything else.” He says very pointedly.

L’Arachel merely offers a nod in response before going to investigate the room, moving to the desk immediately. She does not usually investigate mysterious scenes like this, but surely this cannot be much different than tracking a monster, right? 

The area around the desk seems to show signs of something peculiar happening; a scuffed carpet underneath the heavy looking chair, baubles scattered on the floor, some marks on the desk that, in fairness, could have been made by a bored fool who cannot properly take care of his property.

As she ponders all this, a sudden breeze strikes L’Arachel, bringing her attention to the open window behind the desk. After looking out from it, she immediately beckons Henry and the butler towards it; out from the window, footprints can be seen clearly walking away from the mansion, having seemingly climbed down out of the room by tying together the window’s drapes.

[heliacalrisings]

first comes...trust? then comes marriage?

mission board: excavation || gauntlets +1

[heliacalrisings]

Standing in the partitioned room, Ephraim is unsure how he is supposed to learn from this experience. Marriages among nobility are a much different affair, not attended by just anyone but certainly made a public spectacle all the same. In that, this marriage is not so different, but he knows these two ladies are marrying for love and nothing else. It's simple but beautiful in that simplicity. The two have nothing else weighing on them.

And even though he doesn't know which marriage tradition is happening here, he can tell that it's all in good fun by the bride's giggles and the enthusiasm of the 'kidnappers'.

Suddenly, he finds himself dragged out the door by L'Arachel, his hand in her vice grip and him forced to stumble after her until he gets his footing and catches up to her.

"What are we doing?" He looks between her and the 'kidnappers'. Dame Eloise is being carried away and giving a struggle that is for show only.

The kidnappers turn down a road that leads to a city square. The townsfolk that catch sight of them boo and jeer but it appears to all be in good nature, like they're all in on this joke too.

[far-from-common]

“We are chasing down these ne’er-do-wells so that they shall not get away with their heinous crime!” L’Arachel loudly exclaimed, to the cheers and claps and whistles of the townsfolk watching the spectacle.

“We must keep chase; they shall either tire themselves out, or they shall lead us right to their lair!” She states as if it was the most obvious, logical conclusion in the world. And in fairness, for whoever knew about how this ought to go, that was the case.

Eventually, after several turned corners and a bunch of running around in circles, they find themselves in the town square once more, where the kidnappers hop onto a conveniently placed horse and start galloping away.

“Quick, Ephraim! After them!” L’Arachel exclaims, pointing to the other two horses in the city square.

“Surely, if we chase them, they shall lead us to their very evil hideout that may or may not be overlooking quite the scenic view!” She states overdramatically as she mounts her horse.

[senerist]

just like that one quote from soma (frictional games 2015)

ethereal ball 2026

[senerist]

@far-from-common sent:

[ GOSSIP ] - For those who don't want to be the center of attention, sitting on the sidelines and observing those who do is a time-honored tradition. Exchanging thoughts with another while doing so is a rite of passage for a student—it is a slightly worse look for the staff to take part. "It is so incredibly... peculiar, is it not? The popcorn, the upgraded camera- that is, photo-artifex, the movies... all things that had been in that world." L'Arachel lets out a hum, mind working quite hard pondering it all. "Are all of them simply inventions that have been repurposed from Fortuna, for the betterment of Fódlan? Or was the world we were in prophetic in some way? Both of these possibilities seem rather troubling..." L'Arachel truly hopes Soren will have some insight into this, logical and helpful as he has always been. Seeing all of these inventions make her happy, true, but something about inflitrating Fortuna, causing its destruction, and then repurposing its creations for their own benefit does not sit well with her at all.

Standing beside L'arachel while dressed in a strange, unfamiliar outfit, surrounded by people is not something soren had expected to experience twice.  The reality is such, though, and her questions pick at the decay still eating at his heart, too.

Some things are simply unforgettable, for better or for worse.

“It's different,” soren responds quickly, not because he knows it to be true, but because that is his preference.  Only once the words leave his mouth does he begin searching for reasons why and how.

“i suspect you noticed that in fortuna, we had no sense for magic.  If that world had spirits, i could not commune with them.  These ‘cameras’ are magically based.  i presume they wouldn't have the silver or carbonite i know to have comprised the strange devices there.  i didn't particularly dive deeply into the discoveries made by that world, but i would wager these to be different means of approaching the same goal, so to speak.”

he folds his arms.  Despite refusing to look at L'arachel, soren's mouth curves into a smile ever so slightly.  “It won't steal your soul, so go ahead and get as many pictures of yourself as you like.”

[far-from-common]

Soren’s words are wise, true. There had been no trace of magic at all in Fortuna. The corn seems to be procured differently as well. This temporary reassurance is enough for her to relax, grabbing one of the photo-artifexes in order to capture the moment of getting to spend time with one of her friends. She takes two photos with Soren in the frame, before taking a few more of just her magnificent visage.

Still, with each use of the photo-artifex, doubt creeps into her mind more and more. Sure, these cameras are magical, as compared to the weird inventions that composed the cameras in Fortuna. But… does that truly mean they are unrelated?

“They may be different means of approaching the same goal… but does that truly mean Fortuna had no part in these inventions? Fódlan could very much have merely plagiarised the concept.” She says in a more hushed tone.

“Then again, it would not make any sense to send us into that world if they meant to continue getting ‘inspired’” She sighs. “It is all quite a headache. I wish we had some clear and concise answer to quell these feelings of doubt and turmoil.”

[ephemeralove]

many spoonfulls of sugar

mission board: epidemic - +1 gauntlet (making chocolate)

[ephemeralove]

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?"

[far-from-common]

Men, women, children, elders, cute animals, why, the amount of people who would miss L’Arachel are quite plentiful!

Still, it makes her heart swell and her face brighten as Katarina shares how glad she is to be in L’Arachel’s company once again. Her friend is not just an ordinary person, after all!

“I feel quite the same, my dear friend.” She offers up with a smile as they move to one of the stations.

Whilst Katarina is focused on setting up the proper supplies, L’Arachel takes stock of the various spoons, taking each of them and testing how they feel as she mixes the inside of an empty bowl.

“I similarly am not as familiar with the culinary arts as I could be, but that simply means that whatever masterpieces we create, they shall be even more impressive!” She lets out a boisterous laugh.

“As for my plan, it is quite simple indeed! The master of chocolate has said that whoever receives a chocolate shall have to attend a seminar next month to make a gift in return. I shall make more chocolate than anyone has ever seen and give it out to every single person that I know! That way this month I shall have the joy of bestowing my friends with gifts, and next month I shall enjoy the gift of unlimited chocolate treats!” She looks quite pleased with herself at this plan, so much so that she misses Stefanelli clearing his throat in order to get everyone’s attention.

[sacretic]

no, not everyone from grado is alive

event: ethereal ball 2026 | continued

[sacretic]

Tell me what happened, she implores him so earnestly, despite not completely trusting him. Does Lyon blame her for her doubts, her concerns, her skepticism? No, not at all. Only Ephraim and Eirika wouldn't hesitate to immediately pull him into a hug, and he doesn't expect everyone to be as easygoing as Forde. Or be like Seth, who seems to have accepted Lyon's presence.

However, unlike a certain someone, she doesn't sharpen her words into daggers here, in this dark room, where no one else sees or hears them. Despite everything, she is still willing to hear him out.

"...I don't know."

But Lyon has no answers to give.

Before she can respond, he holds up a hand. "Make no mistake," Lyon continues, clarifying, "I wish I had an answer for myself. I know I died that day." His hand drifts down, stopping where Siegmund pierced through his chest. If he closes his eyes, he may picture the scene where the hero slays the monster. Not because the hero wanted that outcome, but because the monster—his old friend—forced his hand.

He clenches his hand, clutching the fabric of his robes. Purple, a royal and noble color, and everything he is not. "But here I am, still alive, even though I have no right to be..."

Lyon's hand drops back to his side.

"It's okay if you don't believe me, Princess L'Arachel." His voice softens as he lands on the right name, and behind that softness lies the undercurrent of melancholy and resignation. They have never spoken face-to-face like this before, but Lyon was familiarized with the names of his fellow royals in Magvel in his childhood. "But if it is of any solace to you, I can assure you that the Demon King won't threaten the world through me. By my own choice, I haven't sought to harm anyone else ever again..."

"...Would the world still be standing if the Demon King still had a hold over my heart? Two—no, three years—is a long time."

[far-from-common]

L’Arachel really ought to have expected this would not merely be as simple as Lyon having all the answers.

A part of her feels foolish having even asked.

All she is left with is the option to put her faith in him; believing that he has been around for several years, that things shall be alright.

And… as foolish as it may be, as illogical as it is considering everything she has been taught, L’Arachel decides to trust him. Partially it is for the sake of Ephraim and Eirika; mad as she may be at them, she would not want to tear away their happiness. But also, rebuking someone who has just said they do not deserve to be alive… it would feel akin to throwing a puppy like a javelin.

“I… shall believe you, Lyon. For one, if you were untruthful, it would be most easy to find out.” She says with a stern expression, one which quickly softens as she moves on to her next point.

“More importantly, however, I choose to believe you because we have been through enough death and tragedy already. You seem most genuine enough about not adding more to it. And I would not wish to tear away this second chance at life that you have gotten.” What good would it do anyone? Lyon’s death would not bring anyone back, would not improve anyone’s lives. All it would do is make more people grieve.

“However, Lyon. I want you to take heed of what I say.” She takes his hands gently into her own.

“You have been brought back to life, free of the Demon King’s claim on you. That is a miracle. Do not squander this miracle, Lyon. For the sake of those alive, and especially those who perished, live the best life you can live. Carry the guilt of what happened close if you must, but face life head on.”

Hopefully her speech is good enough to convince who it needs to convince. Whether that is Lyon, herself, or both, she is not quite sure.

[azurelunae]

getting a good grade in popularity is something that is both normal to want and is possible to achieve

[azurelunae]

She does not know what she expects L'Arachel to say, but the princess of Rausten starts to speak and every little thing that has burdened her heart and soul comes unraveling at the seams. The mirror world and its effect on her, this life she had lived and then lost in the blink of an eye. And then she mentions Selena...and Lyon.

She and Ephraim had wanted so badly to save Lyon from Fomortiis. Knowing their friend's soul was lost and his body consumed had driven them both to the brink. There were so few close to them but he had always been one of the closest.

The bond between her, Ephraim, and Lyon, it is like none other. They had been only children when they met but each of them had been lonely in their own ways. Ephraim beneath the pressure of the throne, Eirika a spare heir with no strength of her own, Lyon and his frail but gentle heart. It was the three of them who had been there for each other. L'Arachel cannot understand what they share. Few can.

And the war had taught her to steel her heart in more ways than one, a far more effective teacher than her father had ever been.

There had been no time to grieve. Not even after he was dead and the world saved. While the people and their friends celebrated, it was them who tucked away their grief into long nights because it was Renais who needed them. Their people whose homes had been destroyed and their livelihoods burnt. She and Ephraim had pledged to bring them a brighter future.

Why had she not told L'Arachel of Lyon's survival?

Deep down, she is afraid that L'Arachel will ruin what they have so carefully pieced together again. That Rausten's sacred texts will decree that he cannot, should not, exist, and once again there will be nothing that they can do save kill him themselves. And killing Lyon again would surely kill them both as well.

They were not allowed to mourn his death and now they cannot celebrate his life.

She wants to ask L'Arachel why she thinks she and Ephraim do not deserve to be happy about their childhood friend not being consumed by the Demon King. Does she not trust them to be able to tell if Fomortiis still lurks after all this time? He has shown no sign of corruption as he had in the war, neither attacked nor taunted them when he had plenty of opportunity to do so.

Yet it is selfish of them. She knows it is. His living when he should not have, when L'Arachel had assured them that man and demon could never be separated, leaves the very world at stake once more. It could undo all that they had risked their lives for.

She just so desperately wants something to go right. Why can't he live? Why can't they have a happy ending? She wants to see her brother smile again, not watch him waste away into the night, consumed by guilt and grief, haunted by nightmares. She knows Siegmund is locked beneath Castle Renais and she knows that it will stay in the darkness so long as her brother lives. Tucked away just like their grief. Just like their tears. Just like Lyon.

Eirika takes a deep, steadying breath and tucks everything away. It is a practiced motion, performed so fluidly that she does not even have to think about it.

Once L'Arachel finishes yelling (a display, she notes inwardly, she would never have been allowed, and she promptly ignores the envy it sparks), Eirika crouches in front of her. Her dress pools across the pavement but she pays the material no mind.

"We should have told you. But please know that we did do our own research into the stability of his nature. He was here at the monastery before Ephraim arrived even. And the Demon King, if he was lurking in the shadows of his heart, has had many an opportunity to show his true nature. He could barely resist doing as much before."

Eirika continues with a much softer voice, "But L'Arachel, Ephraim and I do not think poorly of you at all. That matter has nothing to do with you as a person or as our friend. I cannot speak to what happened in your mirror world, Ephraim's was vastly different from what he told me, but I can assure you that we both think very fondly of you. I am sorry that our actions have caused you pain. It was never our intention."

Whatever else she feels, that is the truth.

[far-from-common]

Eirika does not leave, like L’Arachel expects her to, but instead meets her at her level. The literal one, to be clear, rather than the hole she had dug for herself.

Her reassurances feel comforting, yet in a way they make her want to bury her head in her hands further. Feeling doubt over whether the twins care about her feels quite silly now, and it leaves her feeling awful over yelling at someone who is such a good friend.

This wave of guilt initially has her retreating inwards, ashamed of her actions. But quickly enough she steels her resolve; L’Arachel of Rausten is not a coward! Nor is she a bad friend. And trying to just hide behind her hands would be both!

Hands folded in front of her, she lifts her head to gaze properly at Eirika. And then she briefly closes her eyes and holds one of her hands to her temple, as the headache from crying fully hits her.

“I… I apologize for my callous words. Today has been… Latona above it has been overwhelming, Eirika. Even someone as magnificent as me has a limit. One I would have gotten close to even having just seen Selena of Grado, let alone Lyon.” She sighs, voice quieter than usual and slightly hoarse from all the yelling and crying.

“I know you and Ephraim would never hurt me on purpose. It is just…” She takes a deep breath; if there was ever a time to go all out with how well she can speak, it is now.

“I love my uncle. But growing up without my parents, and with an upbringing that was less sociable than one might expect, looking at how charming I am… I do not like to share my weakness so earnestly, Eirika, but it had hurt.” She sighs once more, trying to keep herself talking.

“Getting to befriend… not just fellow royals, but such magnificent people, ones that equal my splendor with ease. It has meant a lot, Eirika. If I may be so brash with saying, sometimes I see you two as the siblings I have never had.” She goes silent for just a moment, a part of her mortified about having shared that, even if she had wanted to make her fond feelings for her friends known more.

“I suppose that is why I had felt so hurt upon finding out you had not told me about Lyon. I still… I still think you should have told me. I trust that you have done diligent research into how stable he is, I truly do. But… I would have been willing to help. I… probably would have reacted with apprehension at first, but I would have dedicated as much time as possible into assisting you all.” Therein lies the main issue, she supposes. What use is being as magnificent as she is if she cannot help the ones she cares about the most?

“Still… I should not have reacted the way I have. Knowing everything you three have gone through… I can understand the apprehension in sharing his existence.” Most of L’Arachel’s anger has long since turned into naught but a mix of guilt and embarrassment and annoyance at how unfortunately everything has played out. Eirika truly is too kind of a person; if she had not faced L’Arachel immediately after the dance, perhaps their conversation could have been calmer.

Still, what is done is done. She cannot undo her mistakes, but she can amend them, best she can.

“I am glad for the three of you, I truly, truly am. And I hope you can forgive me for all of this. I still wish to be dear friends, if you would want me as such.” Her voice is once again quite reserved, as she awkwardly holds her hands out for an embrace; she hopes there is truly no bad blood between the two of them, though she could not blame Eirika if there was.

[renaisguy]

Where were you? Some sort of Crazy Noisy Bizarre Town?

Continued from here

[renaisguy]

Silence hangs in the air, whilst Forde ponders what to say. He’s never been good at dealing with crying people, and he doubts a silly sketch would be enough to cheer her up. 

“I’m beginning to think our mirror mission was a romp in comparison to everyone else’s.” He says. “All I really did was entertain various audiences, fight, and entertain various audiences by fighting. It was sort of a competition, but more so us vs whatever the world threw at us than us fighting against each other.” 

If they had been fighting each other… well, the one time he’d tried attacking Ephraim he’d missed completely, but… “There were these badges for sale, the ones you pin to your clothes. They had strange effects, but one of the ones I ended up with amplified my magic power. By a lot.” 

Oh how to describe it… “At the end we were fighting this giant hand. Well, ‘we’, a small group of us, another group was fighting the other hand, the rest were fighting the rest of him-” he’s getting off topic. “And um, when I used (that fake) Ivaldi against the hand, the light was brighter than any spell I’ve been able to cast, before or since. And then another badge made a jingle, a do-do dooo…” 

He looks at L’Arachel again, tears in her eyes. He’s just been rambling on, was this really helping, at all? 

“I um, forgot where I was going with this.” He admits. “It wasn’t my worst mission, I suppose.” He sighs. “I can tell you the story of my worst mission, if you’d like, but I try not to think about it for a reason, haha.” Haha, haaaaa… he’d been reminded of it enough tonight, what with Sir Sigurd and Lianna popping up, and yet another run-in with Azama. 

He takes an orchid from his bouquet, and hands it to her. “It’s not a rose, but you can be the Orchid- orchid, um… the Orchid ‘Onarch instead.” He smiles. “For what it’s worth, I think you have what it takes. You have such a blindingly brilliant smile, and you always strive to protect those around you, I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t admire you.”

@far-from-common

[far-from-common]

Sir Forde is… trying. She most certainly appreciates getting to know more about the other missions, at the very least. It may not be enough to dry her tears, but she does find herself feeling a slight bit lighter at all his descriptions; it very much sounds like a world she would have enjoyed finding herself in.

She is very much glad she did not, though.

Before she can say anything on the topic of his world or her world however, Forde hands her one of the flowers from his bouquet and calls her the Orchid (m)’Onarch and it is so silly yet he is so kind and earnest and she cannot stop the tears from spilling again, though this time, they greet a slight smile as they fall.

“You are… you are most kind, Sir Forde. Your words truly, truly mean a lot to me.” She falls silent for a moment, considering what more to say. Eventually, she decides to meet his story with a way shorter one of her own.

“There was one afternoon at the academy, one that I spent quite pleasantly with Ephraim. He did something ridiculous and rash, as one would expect, but it made me realize that for all my… many, many skills and talents, I may be… lacking, when it comes to expressing my gratitude sometimes. So I would like to say to you, Sir Forde, I am glad this academy has let me get to know you better. You are a good man and an even better friend.” She smiles, though her gaze is still downcast. As lovely as all this is, there is still an incessant feeling of discontent in her heart that shall not go away, one that intensifies as her light-up shoes change colour into something a smidge too bright to ignore.

“I would quite appreciate hearing about that worst mission of yours, if you may, Sir Forde. You need not share everything, just a snippet would be quite alright.” She gives him a slightly pleading look. She does not wish to pry too much, but getting to know at least a snippet would…

She is not quite sure, actually, what she thinks shall happen. Shall she feel less lonely? A bit more understood? She is not certain.

But at the very least she would get to know a bit more about a friend, and that has to account for something, surely.

[umbralward]

karaoke naught

wk 1 || ethereal ball 2026

[far-from-common]

L'Arachel gives the audience the most grateful and gracious of bows as she soaks up all the adoration and attention. It is only natural; a performance as spectacular as hers was sure to be a rarity.

After all, how often do the masses get to witness someone so confident in the way they move? So unashamed and proud of their mastery over their voice? Someone with so much style and flourish and command over their audience? Someone-

She is snapped out of her thoughts as an adoring fan approaches, taking L'Arachel's hand into her own. A brief moment of surprise makes way for excitement; the woman's energy seems to indicate a like-minded soul! L'Arachel is just about to encourage her to get on stage herself-

And then the woman speaks of L'Arachel being a chosen one, seemingly indicating herself as one as well.

"Why, of course!" She strikes a dramatic pose without hesitation; nothing less would be expected of a chosen one, after all!

"I am L'Arachen of Rausten, the holiest of holy women, on a quest traveling far and wide to rid the world of monsters!" She changes her pose to another cool one, one hand in front of her face, fingers making a V sign; it is one inspired by the theatre performances she loved so much as a kid.

"How about yourself? Who may you be, oh kindered spirit?" She asks, eyes sparkling with excitement.

[umbralward]

L'Arachel of Rausten - a holy woman on a noble quest to vanquish fiend and foe alike… A woman of light, surely, and - she's almost certain of it now, a true Chosen One!

Ophelia boils with jealousy and admiration, her stomach twists both in excitement and dread, and perhaps something else she knows not the name for.  Still, there is nothing to be done, so she swallows her turmoil and remains smiling, striking her own pose as she makes her introduction; making sure to wave her arms as she assumes the position, in order to make the most of her own handicraft hanging from her.

“I am Ophelia Dusk, Maiden of Light - ‘tis my purpose to maintain the balance of night and day; to face the forces of darkness without fear; to follow in my heroic father’s footsteps!”

She spins, done with her monologue.  Not one of her best, certainly, but she had to fit the pattern laid by her newest acquaintance.  “I simply knew you were a chosen one!  What a noble goal, to eliminate monsters from the world!  And a high task as well; I've fought my share of faceless before, and despite what their intelligence may suggest they are not to be taken lightly.”

[far-from-common]

L’Arachel’s eyes sparkle as Ophelia Dusk introduces herself with such a fabulous, spectacular flourish! A maiden on a quest not too dissimilar to hers, with striking poses, a magnificent attire, and knowledge of monsters? Why, kindred spirit seems almost lacking as a description, despite its usually powerful stature!

“It is a truth harshly learned, my dear friend; monsters ought to be taken with utmost seriousness. The amount of people I have seen dismiss Mogalls as ‘merely overgrown eyeballs’, only to need rescuing from their dark magic, is more than I wish to count!” She shakes her head in exasperation, though she quickly bounces back to enthusiasm once more.

“It must be fate that has brought us here together on this day, Ophelia Dusk! Destiny has surely decreed that our combined magnificence shall shine so brightly that any sort of darkness that could even dare loom during this ball shall dissipate into light!” She throws her hands up in the air and waves them around as they come down, emulating the shimmering of the light.