LOVED ONES LOST;

affiliated lucina roleplay written by hiyori

[dancing-duelist-blog]

the merfolk handbook

CHAPTER I: MERFOLK PHYSIOLOGY

When studying merfolk physiology it’s important to remember that these creatures evolved primarily as predators. The humanoid torso is an adaptation designed to assist the mermaid in the sinking of human ships – a practice which emerged over time to reclaim the fish reaped from merfolk waters, particularly during the times when the fish population isn’t nearly so prolific.

Keep reading

[fatebled]

just in case anyone doesn’t see my tweets about it,   em   (   chise / soleil   )   &   i found this super nifty tabletop rpg called mythic mortals.   it’s like a lowkey dungeons   &   dragons game,   but far more relaxed   &   simplistic.   there’s no intense character creation   (   you simply make a character   &   choose a class   )   &   it’s overall meant to be a short fun game thing   !   all you need are the character class mats   (   which i can provide if you’re unable to buy it   )   +   a deck of cards   +   two 6-sided dice.   please let me know if you’d be interested in joining   !   we have a discord chat set up for it.   personally,   i would like to make it a common game to play   ---   but we’ll see how it goes   !

[fatebled]

sleihbeggey:

@fatebled

The rusty red fur of her paws stands out starkly against the too-bright white of the snow. The beating of four legs upon the snow makes it easier to traverse the winterscape, allowing Chise to cross between safe spaces at least twice as quickly.

Bringing Ashen Eyes’ gift into her dreams had been easier than expected. She’d only had to focus on pulling the were-creature’s pelt out of her satchel, imagining the soft fur between her fingers before it had actually been there and she could throw it over her being and melt into the form of a fox with ease. The dreams provide a relatively safe place for Chise to experiment with the pelt outside of situations full of duress. Being able to use the pelt without having some dire situation to resolve allows her to simply run, to revel in the freedom to go wherever she pleases without having to worry about losing sight of her home.

Her jaw drops open to assist in catching her breath as she comes to an abrupt stop on the top of a boulder sticking out from the snow. From her perch, scents roll in from all directions. It’s almost too much for her human mind, though the fox’s instincts let her calm down enough to sift through them. Some are familiar (she relaxes upon recognizing Takumi’s scent), others are not.

One in particular moves closer with every beat of her too-fast heart, one Chise cannot immediately place. Curiosity fills her chest, mixing with lingering adrenaline and resulting in the courage to investigate. Muscles bunching in her hind legs, she leaps from the boulder and darts in the direction from which the bizarre (though not unpleasant) mixture of flowers and steel originates.

          traversing through the pockets of sanctuary are longer than she originally thinks,   having walked for quite some time directly across one.   it’s only a simple curiosity,   wondering how possibly long it could go for   ---   but she finds the extent of them are long enough to amuse her,   then more.   (   she hasn’t considered the thought that they extend further if she thinks they do;   she hasn’t quite gotten a grasp of these dreamlike canvases.   )

          just as she feels it well enough to end,   it does.   a sudden straight-cut line from meadow to snow,   almost created by some invisible force of sorts   ---   she briefly wonders if there’s some sort of dark magickery to be found here.   perhaps her lady would know more of it,   or more accurately,   her older brother who’s more familiar with tomes   &   novels.   however,   there’s a sudden movement in the snow that catches her eye   ---   a spark of red that sits atop one of the snowy hills.   there lies an animal,   a creature perhaps indigenous to these lands;   however,   all lucina sees is potentially a warm coat   &   food to spare.   (   she’s certainly inherited her father’s ability to eat anything.   )

          but with no javelins to throw,   nor any items to use as a trap,   all she can do is reach into her pocket to pull out a tasty-smelling biscuit,   hoping the treat would attract the animal.   she whistles,   wagging the treat back   &   forth.   “   come here;   i have a treat for you.   ”   it takes a moment before it hesitantly approaches,   coming closer to the edge of the two domains.   lucina waits,   patiently,   expression ever soft with her body posture relaxed.

          it comes close enough to sniff the treat in her hand;   lucina reaches out to swing her sword across its body   ---   only to miss.   “   poor thing,   ”   she remarks quietly as she readjusts her grip,   prepared to give chase   &   swing again.   “   but it’s your life or mine   &   i shall not surrender to this winter quietly,   if at all   ---   !   ”

[fatebled]

satanaelesque:

He’s kind enough not to laugh when she shakes; he’s done quite enough of the same himself and chattering teeth have done him no good. Still, he finds comfort in knowing that she’s not so far removed from him.

“Right, metal doesn’t really provide much insulation.” He stares at armor where it gleams the most and feels a chill roll down his spine. It must be cold to the touch. “Wouldn’t it be warmer to take it off?”

          “   it would.   however   ...   ”   here she stalls in her statement,   finding her next thought to be quite ridiculous.   certainly,   these are life-threatening conditions;   one’s armor should not be held higher than her own survival.   yet   ...   “   well,   the armor is   ...   sentimental;   i can’t simply discard it.   if i put it aside,   i would either have to carry it or place it somewhere.   but there’s no guarantee that i would be able to find it if i hid it away either.   ”

          logically speaking,   it seems sound enough.   but there’s a slight embarrassment to her nonetheless,   feeling quite childlike to hold her armor in such high regard.   but it is from her father   &   one of the few things that tie her connection to him.   “   i’m sorry;   that must seem silly.   ”

[fatebled]

etheruin:

   Wrapping his arms once again around his knees, the seraph glances across the small, flickering flame to the girl who stood out against the brilliantly white walls of ice. Her appearance was reminiscent of another, namely for the armor, but it isn’t until she speaks that he firmly solidifies that she must hold some sort of status to bear that trained a noble tone. A high knight, perhaps———But the hairband suggests royalty, like Alisha.

   “W-well, this is hardly anything for one like myself.” Probably not the best tone to take with a stranger, a mistake worn deep in his conscience as his drifting eyes and upturned visage would suggest. “… Thank you, though.”

   Yet, he blinks, violet hues suddenly locked onto her face carefully once more, with a subtle nod. “My name is Mikleo. To answer your earlier question, this isn’t where I call home, but given the speed of the storm, this seemed a better idea than to attempt to outrun it.”

          she hardly minds the tone,   interpreting it more as a confidence than anything else.   it suggests that there is more to be seen,   more to behold;   it brings a query of just who this person is.   but lucina isn’t impolite enough to question him when he gives her sanctuary.   her lips quirk briefly upward at his gratitude for her compliments.   she only gives a nod in return.

          “   i understand   ---   this blizzard rages onward with no end in sight.   i fear that it may never end,   at this rate.   ”   it seems she still does not understand the expanse of the dream world,   brow knitted in contemplation as she ponders a solution to her problem.   unfortunately,   given she is no magician able to control weather,   there really isn’t any.   “   but i must press onward in hopes to find my comrades.   i only plan to intrude here for a short time,   but i thank you nonetheless for your kindness,    mikleo.   do you also travel alone   ?   ”

[fatebled]

wintersbred:

                  ＇harboring apostates ? is that what we do now ? are we to take in every suspicious character we come across ? keith fills that role fine enough, i should think. ＇  weiss ignores keith’s muttered agreement  &  lance’s indignant squawk on his lover’s behalf. she’s right  &  that they’re seriously considering taking in some swamp witch is absurd.  //  @fatebled

          “   ---   so you say,   but we don’t have any alternatives.   we swore to the witch of these woods that we would take on her daughter;   i am nothing,   if not true to my word.   ”   weiss’ disliking towards those unloyal to the circle is a commonly-known fact   -   or rather,   she doesn’t hesitate to make it known.   it’s a difficult situation to handle,   having the three of them against her;   but fickle situations like these are to be expected on the journey to come.   this,   she thinks with her head held high   &   her royal lineage coming forth,   is not a particularly difficult matter.   “   if we leave her,   then we risk her mother’s wrath;   given how she has saved not only my but all of our lives,   we owe her a large debt.   if you have an alternative,   weiss,   please feel free to speak up.   ”

[fatebled]

dancing-duelist:

Laslow pouts. “Aw, come on Frey. Surely threatening me has gotten old…or will get old, at some point or another.” Laslow is certain that there’s nothing left on his person that Luc–ah, Freyja hasn’t already threatened to remove from him.

The snow has begun to melt, but Laslow’s since shaken enough of it off to prevent it from causing him undue discomfort as it seeps through the layers of his clothing. The only nuisance remains the fact that snow has worked its way into one boot, but not the other.

Unbalanced cold feet. Terrible.

“I wasn’t so much thrown as I…ran?” he answers, evasively. Freyja doesn’t need to know of yet another of his failures. “Call it a hasty retreat,” Laslow clarifies.

He straightens, locking his arms behind his back as he smiles. “Ever-diligent, Frey,” he comments. His eyes land on the sweets and he pilfers one for himself. “Mm, these are good,” he says. He waves the cookie under her nose. “Are you quite certain that you don’t want another? Or perhaps a fifteenth?” he jokes, dangerously close to indeed losing his precious tongue.

“As for our lovely apparition…well, she’s quite immune to my charms, unfortunately. Perhaps she’s more inclined to the tender wit of a lady?” Laslow suggests, raising a pointed brow at Freyja.

          “   somehow,   i have the feeling it will never get old.   ”   at least,   not as long as laslow continues to be   ...   well,   himself.   perhaps she wouldn’t need the insistent threatening,   had he just retain his common sense   ---   but alas,   she supposes everyone must have a quirk of some sorts.   (   even if his is annoying as it is.   )

          freyja can only quirk an eyebrow at his response,   expression clearly showing her disbelief.   she doesn’t roll her eyes   ---   she’s far too mature for that.   but one can merely feel the unbelieving stare boring into laslow.   he’s always been quick-witted,   using linguistics to avoid any damning statements against him.   it may work for others;   but for freyja,   who has known him for years,   she finds this performance a little less impressive.

          “   are you insulting my weight   ?   you seem to have a death wish,   laslow.   ”   she retorts back,   eyes narrowed as she glares at him.   there’s an indignation lit beneath her gaze,   though it contrasts greatly with her huffed cheeks.   her lips purse together as he waves the cookie,   resisting the urge to slap it from his hands and simply maneuvers her head away.   “   i’ve had enough;   thank you.   ”

          just laslow’s mere presence seems to send freyja into an irritable mood,   though she isn’t able to decipher if it’s from just annoyance or perhaps that it’s him who has seen through her humiliation.   nonetheless,   nothing quite tops what he says next,   to which freyja stills herself with a wide-eyed expression.

          “   ------   are you insinuating that i flirt with the ghost   ?   ”   she enunciates every word,   every syllable,   as each seems to grow with her fury.   her brow twitches for a second before she turns away,   walking away from him   &   hopefully further into the area where she won’t have to deal with him.   (   how is it that he gets on her nerves even more than before in the lands of ylisse,   somehow leaving her annoyed but flustered at the same time   ?   perhaps she ought to be blaming niles for his sly tongue   &   inevitable influence on laslow.   by the gods,   olivia would be disappointed.   )   “   unbelievable,   simply unbelievable   ...   ”

[fatebled]

satanaelesque:

A moment’s respite is better than nothing. Here, he can gather his strength.

He’s tried before to force himself awake but it never seems to work. Maybe he’s trying too hard. Or maybe his thoughts are too scattered to do it right.

Akira frowns at her assessment of the world beyond their safe haven but he’s not surprised. Knowing the truth is better than groping around in the darkness. Ignorance may be bliss for some but it isn’t his.

“I’m tougher than I look,” he claims. He smiles for her, to prove that his spirit is more resilient than she assumes. “But what about you? You know how to use a sword, but you can’t fight the weather.”

          perhaps it’s lucina’s fortitude;   perhaps it’s being used to being in dire circumstances.   either way,   she finds herself calm   -   unnaturally so,   despite being trapped in some sort of ever-raging blizzard with only blips of security.   but whereas akira might find his shelter faltering,   the princess’ remains ever strong,   ever permanent   ---   a showing of her mental prowess.   lucina has been nothing if not firm.   snow,   with some strange ghoul lurking the premises,   will not change that.

          “   i see.   i’m glad to hear of that.   ”   though the two are allies,   or so lucina would believe,   they do not share the same path.   as much as the warrior would love to accompany akira into something of a more stable environment,   she must walk her own path to find her comrades.   it comes as a relief to hear he’s doing well   -   or as well as he could be.   “   i’m quite used to it,   having traveled to various locations of differing weathers.   this snow is as comparable to that of regna ferox,   one of the lands neighboring the country of ylisse.   ”   she explains,   though shivering slightly as she does so.   a humbled expression appears;   her head shakes.   “   ...   however,   that does not mean i do not get cold;   my armor as of right now isn’t suited for these temperatures.   ”

[fatebled]

etheruin:

   The better idea would have been to wake up, he thinks to himself while he hunches forward, arms wrapped around his knees, still forced to sit in the snow that blanketed the floor in front of his very small fire (as if he could find proper kindling in a place like this.). Yet with the howl of the wind outside as the blistering blizzard carved its way through the land, leaving all in its wake covered in splintery, white crystals, locked into place by the threat of cold, he can’t deny that his solution had been any less helpful. His mind wanders within his temporary shelter, colorless walls that reached up and into a dome of his own forming——mostly to if this was the same eternal winter that covered the Northern continent, or did they possibly mean something else?——before her voice echoes in, rebounding off the walls until he thinks to answer, scooting closer to the entrance.

   It wasn’t the best sensation, ice crackling beneath his knees as he crawled out back into buffeting winds, shaking his frost-coated face the instant his snow-colored head came out from the narrow entrance. Peering up, his eyes narrow in anticipation of something else, but to his surprise… A lone human?

   “… Hurry inside,” For once, his cold tone did little to compare to their environment, but he hadn’t time to worry about that. Maybe it was just snow on her skin from the weather, but she looked almost deathly pale to him. “You’ll catch your death if you stay out in that storm too much longer.”

   And with that, he disappears back inside, already yearning for the faint warmth of a weak flame that had been missing for maybe a few minutes.

          she doesn’t hesitate for a split second when he gives permission to enter,   lowering herself to its entrance and joining him inside of the small abode.   despite being made of ice,   she finds the place rather cozy & enough to block the icy winds from turning her frozen.   she seats herself next to the fire as well,   though on the opposite of her companion.   hands cupping her mouth to breathe warmth into them,   her eyes gaze about the structure,   seemingly impressed with its architecture.

          “   this is a very impressive building;   i’m amazed to see it so sturdy despite the heavy blizzard outside.   ”   she compliments with a small smile,   finally able to feel her fingers with the addition of the fire heating her up.   a cordial nod is given,   politeness never forgotten even in circumstances as these.   “   might i inquire your name   ?   i’m lucina.   ”

[fatebled]

satanaelesque:

A fire crackles in solemn regard. Laughter echoes throughout the clearing. Every now and again, there is a flap of coarse fabric. Goat hair, in fact.

The scent of mead travels from the encampment. Clashing metal rings through the night air. Pray that the first has not led to the second, good-natured as the duels may be.

Akira fidgets with his blazer. He’s a city boy, through and through. The outdoors chap his lips and dry his eyes. As he clasps his hands to warm them, he hears his name; he turns and spies the woman who’d wandered into his glade.

“Yeah. The last one I was in collapsed.” The slightest hint of annoyance tickles his eye. “Lucina, right? How bad is it out there?”

          “   dire.   the cold remains consistent & there’s no end in sight to the blizzard.   ”   a weary sigh escapes her lips as she draws nearer,   unknowing much of her companion,   but trusting enough to allow herself to settle on the ground. one leg arched with her foot against the ground,   the other lying flat,   lucina leans forward to rest her arms & chin atop her knee.   “   i’ve been traveling for quite some time,   yet it hasn’t let up for a single moment.   i fear it will never end at this rate.   ”

          there’s a grimace appearing on her face,   teeth gritted as her eyebrows begin to furrow.   “   along that,   the spirit that haunts these lands are merciless   ---   not fleeing upon sight of her feels more like a death wish.   ”   lucina is a seasoned warrior,   having fought a variety of humans,   creatures,   even a dragon.   yet all of those hold a physical form which she could insert her blade;   how does one stab a ghost   ?   a large breath escapes her,   feeling some of her worries & stress flee alongside it.   her gaze turns upward to meet akira’s.   “   have you been alright   ?   i imagine it’s difficult to manage,   being a civilian.   ”

[fatebled]

mementobellum:

“Huh. So you know what you’re doing.”

Sangfroid coats his compliment in a thin veneer of persistent skepticism. Caution is what keeps his arms tucked and his chin held high, as though this were a conversation that required dominating. (The festive cheer has yet to take a hold of him.) Takumi eyes her a moment longer, then turns his head with a terse dismissal by way of hand.

“I wouldn’t lower my guard if I were you. This place, not what we’re standing in right now, but all of it? Anything could happen. There’s no such thing as dependability around here.” Projection is what he does best. Rather than admit that he’s the one who’s shaken up, he pushes the burden of proof onto her.

Condescension is something he picked up long before the war but he’s had far more excuses to unleash it lately. Abrasion keeps potential threats at bay. Takumi watches her every move, eyes flickering from hands to feet.

“… do you smell that? It smells like dango.”

It’s a hundred eighty degrees between the surly warrior and the eager child. Sweets are calling for them from the kitchen.

          she doesn’t reply to the compliment,   despite the insinuation of an insult barely veiled.   rather,   lucina is more preoccupied with relief,   grateful that her sudden excuse seems to have worked for the time being.   had it been any of her other allies,   certainly they would not have allowed her so easily off the hook.   she remains ever-calm,   poised as if to reflect his own confident visage.   a glance is given,   questioning just where he’s from with such peculiar armor,   but her gaze flickers up when he begins speaking again.

          “   i understand.   these lands are no home of mine & dangers may prowl upon every corner,   ”   she agrees,   appreciating the concern,   but she continues to speak with a tender softness.  “   but paranoia is not needed.   i will exert caution,   but that does not mean i will openly question everyone or everything   ---   a life where i cannot hold trust in others is a very tiresome one.   ”   she hadn’t meant to lecture the man,   given she hardly even knows him;   but the words flow naturally,   almost as if she has considered them for some time.   she knows how tiring it is to feel as if the burden of the world is placed upon one’s shoulder.   only recently has she learned to share some of these pressures,   allowing her teammates to help her enjoy the world rather than focused on what might come.   she is constantly alert,   constantly careful   ---   but allies are not made by wariness.   “   dependability comes from what you make of it.   if you see me as an enemy,   then we shall draw our weapons & fight   ---   if not,   then you may depend on me to uphold our truce,   however temporary.   ”

there is indeed a sweet scent in the air,   though it remains unfamiliar & unrecognizable.   “   i’m afraid i’ve never had such a treat.   ”   as she says such,   she finds herself craving for what this dango may be   ---   she turns to the source first,   then to takumi with an inquisitive glance.   “   what is dango   ?  ”

[fatebled]

dancing-duelist:

A ghost hovers in front of him. “Ah, well, how positively frosty of you, milady,” Laslow says, retreating slowly, carefully. “I could take you to warm up, somewhere. A cup of tea would do you good…no?”

He backpedals faster, up to his ankles in rapidly-rising snow. “Ah, no feet, I don’t suppose you’d care to dance, perhaps? Ah! I didn’t think so.”

This isn’t working. Of course, Laslow’s flirtations never do work. It’s only a matter of it being particularly ineffective now. “My, that’s quite a scowl for so lovely a face I…er, I should be going, please excuse me!” His sentence trails off into a scream as he begins to run, hurtling through the snow at breakneck speed.

Truly, it’s a miracle he doesn’t actually break something as he goes flying from the Evergreens into…somewhere.

It isn’t snowy here, and it smells good…Good like the kitchens after Peri’s done some baking.

Oh, and speaking of sweet things…

“Frey! You do have a sweet tooth don’t you? Hah! And you deny it every time.” He’s sprawled out across the ground from having flung himself to safety. The ghost hasn’t pursued him, and for that, he’s grateful.

Standing, he brushes snow from his hair and shoulders with as much dignity as he can muster. “Worry not, Frey, your secret is safe with me,” he says, cheerily.

          “   you should hold your tongue,   lest you have interest in losing it.   ”   the threat is empty,   as are all of hers regarding him,   but her tone is vicious enough to stir contemplation of whether she’d actually do it.   it’s bad enough that she’s caught red-handed like some trifling thief;   she needn’t laslow’s insufferable teasing alongside it.   pride wounded,   evident in the way she pushes her lips together to form a frown,   she merely dusts herself off of crumbs as laslow picks himself up.   normally she’d offer to help,   but she’ll be a bit petty.   just this time,   of course.

          after he seems stable on his feet,   she finally poses a question that should have been asked ages ago:   “   ...   were you thrown into here   ?   ”   her voice holds a questioning tone,   an eyebrow quirked briefly as she glances outside,   catching only a brief glimpse a pale figure before it dissipates against the wintry background.   “   ...   she’s like no enemy i’ve ever faced before;   falchion hadn’t even touched her.   ”   her remark is quiet,   almost contemplative as she thinks to their previous battle   -   the one occurring before freyja takes refuge in the area.   “   i hold no experience in the occult;   yet we must purge these lands of her presence before anyone else gets hurt.   ”

[fatebled]

soulensoleille:

The ice runs and streaks across the ground almost as fast as Soleil herself. Dreams of dropping to the ground and playing in the snow like a child run through her mind, but they’re quickly dashed by the piercing cold propelling her from behind. So distracted by those dreams is she, however, that the action of pushing through the gelatinous golden bubble completely escapes her until the ground beneath her changes from the crunch of ice to the soft bend of grass.

The sudden increase in friction draws her to a sudden halt. Not much time is left for her to recover from the run before a familiar set of muscled arms envelop her in the best hug she has ever been given. Soleil shrieks in joy.

“Mom!” Her mother’s iron-clad embrace does nothing to dampen the energy radiating from Soleil. “You won’t believe what just happened! There was the most gorgeous lady out there in the snow - next time you see Dad, let him know that she does not appreciate invitations to tea - but yes! I am completely fine. Great, even. And no, I haven’t seen Dad anywhere around.”

The leftover adrenaline from her bolt into the golden bubble has turned the dial of her speech all the way up to ‘babble,’ but this is her mom of all people. If Freyja can’t decipher her talking by now, there’s no hope! Writhing to wrap her own arms around her mom and return the hug, she squeezes as hard as she can - as though it’ll demonstrate all the relief she feels at their reunion.

“Okay, so I am all good. But don’t just worry about me; how are you, Mom? I know you’re great enough to defeat her if you need to, but there is a ice ghost after us, you know?”

          while’s freyja’s relieved to see that her daughter is safe & sound,   her words do cause a little...   concern.   knowing full-well that her daughter has taken over some of her husband’s more rambunctious traits,   there have been times where she wonders if there’s any sensibility inherited from her.   now would be one of those,   actually.   “   dear,   ”   she begins with the ever-familiar tone of exasperation,   a tiredness from dealing with her overly-flirty attitude,   “   please don’t tell me you actually attempted to flirt with that ghoul.   ”

          it’s a rhetorical statement,   freyja already shaking her head in a dismissive nature.   she loves her husband & child dearly,   but by the gods there are times where her patience with them becomes extremely thin.   nevertheless,   her chilled hand comes to pet atop soleil’s head,   stress slowly leaving her body as she revels in her daughter’s embrace.   her daughter is loved;   make no mistake about that.

         “   i’m well,   if not a bit sore from the cold.   ”   a sigh follows after that,   finally having some feeling returning into her limbs as they warm up in the golden sphere.   “   unfortunately,   it seems my sword does not faze the being;   we’ll have to find your father quickly,   lest he follow in your footsteps.   ”   to that,   a grim line replaces her lips,   though not out of worry.   instead,   there’s a slight spark of irritation,   just merely imagining laslow attempting to use smooth language to wile his way out of the ghost’s grasp.   she knows her husband is dutiful,   that he would never leave or consider it   (   unless he wishes to find her sword in his head   )   ---   but there are simply things one shan’t leave to chance.   “   we’ll rest here for a while   ---   then head out when we regain our strength.   ”

[fatebled]

          it’s surreal to think that each individual sphere would hold such a myriad of objects or activities;   how that comes to be,   freyja hasn’t the faintest idea.   nonetheless,   she never hesitates to use   -   though she prefers the term borrow out of necessity   -   to use some of the decoration:   a blanket here,   a fire’s warmth there,   a sweater once.   however,   this time,   as she enters the warmth of the sphere,   she finds herself surrounded by the sweet aroma of cookies.   while she would never be tempted by such treats otherwise,   she can’t recall her last meal & her stomach rumbles uncharacteristically loud   -   enough to justify that she’ll take just one.

          ...   alright,   so perhaps that may have been more than one;   in fact,   when she hears footsteps resonating behind her & she spins around from the sudden noise,   she’s mid-bite into her fourth treat.   an embarrassing sight normally for the princess-turned-retainer;   it’s even more so when she realizes just who has stumbled upon her gluttony.

          “   r   ---   rawsrow   !   ”   her mouth is unable to say his name properly,   still filled with the taste of sugar-coated confections.   face flushing from humiliation,   she holds a hand to her lips,   chewing quickly though thoroughly & swallows,   before attempting to speak once more.   “   laslow,   this isn’t   ---   i wouldn’t   ---   ”   her hands try to gesticulate by swaying back and forth,   as if to deny her partaking of the sweets;   but by now,  it’s far too late to rejection the notion,   given that he’s already seen her eat one.   by the gods,   how embarrassing this is.   certainly,   she wouldn’t mind going back in time once more to avoid this messy situation.   “   that is to say   ---   they were there & i was quite famished;   i   ---   i would never willingly take food unless i absolutely needed to   ---   !   ”   //   @dancing-duelist

[8edhead]

happy bday to my daughter!!! 

i decided to draw this cool redesign by @angieruinsfireemblem!! i love this au

[fatebled]

mementobellum:

His intent to flee from the storm invites more confusion than it does respite. The quiet room that he finds himself wandering into is already populated (though, that might be a bit of an exaggeration when there’s only one other); he stiffens when she acknowledges him and his face pinches.

He’s always been an open book. The unbecoming grimace that crinkles his brow and tugs at his lips reads like a tragedy.

“Urgh, no. Those are hideous.” And they look terribly itchy. You’d have to strap him down and wrestle him into that monstrosity.

Suspicion starts to bead against his forehead before rolling down his neck. “What are you doing rummaging through someone else’s belongings?”

          the words that befall his lips sound more akin to crashing disappointment than anything else & lucina can’t help the grimace that appears on her face.   though she manages to play it off,   a nod given as if in agreement with the other,   there is a depressing feeling that briefly lingers as she tucks the sweater back into the box.   maybe something else should be given to mother,   she thinks with a heavy heart   ---   though at least his bluntness has saved her from possible embarrassment.

          “   i   ---   ”   she cuts herself off upon the humiliating realization that her sole purpose of opening such is her assuming it’s a gift.   somehow,   she hasn’t even considered that these may belong to whoever resides within the sphere & she reprimands herself internally,   seeking some sort of excuse in the meantime.   “   ...   i admit,   having arrived & seeing it so plainly in the open,   i was a bit curious to see what was inside.   ”   not entirely untrue,   thus it should be suitable to alleviate some of the tension,   should he believe her to be some sort of thief or robber.   “   i didn’t think there would be others living here in these spheres amidst the blizzard;   there are no tracks of life here   ---   save for the marks i’ve made myself.   ”

[fatebled]

          it’s surprising to find even boxes among the golden spheres of refuge,   being more than just a sanctuary given how much could be found within the area.   but nonetheless as hands delve curiosity into colorfully-wrapped gifts,   her fingers feel something soft in return & she pulls it out.   immediately there’s a starry-eyed expression,   lips parting slightly as she gasps merrily.

          festive sweaters.

          it feels like she’s a child on christmas again,   finding a variety of vibrant   (   though others with a more...   sensible fashion sense would call them gaudy instead.   )   clothing within the box.   a smile tugs on her lips as she lifts one in particular,   thinking how her mother would look lovely in this   ---   though the thought is intruded upon when she hears footsteps,   twisting in her position to face the sudden intruder.

          there’s a silence that passes by them for a brief moment as lucina stands there,   slightly embarrassed as she continues to hold onto the sweater.   “   this is   ------  ”   she begins,   though her voice trails off as she’s unsure of what to say.   eventually she manages to gather her bearings & clear her throat,   voice louder to assert herself.   “   my apologies,   these   ...   wouldn’t happen to be yours,   would they   ?   ”