Closed RP account for Embla of Fire Emblem: Heroes. Affiliated with The Officers Academy.
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Portrayal Notes:
Book 6 spoilers are inevitable. It’s literally Embla I don’t know what you expected.
She isn’t exactly hiding the fact that she’s a god, but she also isn’t going around telling everyone either. If your muse hasn’t specifically been told about her divinity/doesn’t know her priorly from Zenith, then your muse shouldn’t know this information.
She may be from Zenith, but she will not recognize any muses from other worlds, despite any potential world hopping they may have done. She was not paying attention to who the summoner was summoning. Or the summoner at all.
Embla is a villain character, meaning that she is a cruel person. Unfortunately, though I love her so, I suck at being mean. To get around this, I have trapped her without her powers so that she is forced to play nice for the sake of self-preservation. Less big scary murder god and more confused old lady who would get cancelled in seconds if we had social media because of how out of touch she is on what’s acceptable to say. She will inwardly hate you, but she will not snap at your muse verbally or physically unless explicitly stated to me OOC you are okay with that. Otherwise, she will instead run away and end the thread if she just can’t take you anymore.
Despite that, if any ‘conflict’ arises between your muse and Embla that makes you uncomfortable/unhappy in any way, please reach out to me. I am more than willing to tone it down and/or edit any post to be less harsh.
I may be an Embla mun, but I am an Askr mindset at heart. I 100% believe Embla has the capacity to be a better person, and I will be slowly working towards that goal. This does not mean a complete redemption (as that would take thousands of years), only that she will be less blindly angry and murder-y and more tentatively genuine in her interactions with those who manage to get through to her as her forced proximity to humans causes her to rethink her view on them once again. (which will probably be a lot harder than the first time but shh book 6 spoilers)
Studies at the academy are all about preparing oneself for the future, and this consideration has led to an exercise on…parenting! A lucky few students and professors have been chosen to raise awareness for a monumental new program. Assigned with caring for a magically powered doll that requires rocking, reassuring, and cosseting (that will totally not scream and cry at set intervals through the night) what will you and your aptly dubbed ‘partner’ do to meet the challenge? Or will mommy and daddy fumble the diaper bag completely? [Grants Faith +1]
Looking at the doll, she was slightly disturbed by how real it looked. Freyja was one of the unlucky chosen participants. She frowned before taking a look at her " partner." Wait a second. Something about the woman reminded her of ZENITH. Perhaps it was the giant SIGIL behind her head? Freyja can't really put her finger on it. The white curls were familiar, but the last she saw someone with that hair, they didn't look so disheveled.
Ah, right. Let's focus on the 'child' instead.
"...Are you even allowed to hold a child" Ok, well. That was rather blunt, oops. "You look like you cannot even take care of yourself, so... I'm not sure this is the best-suited job for you," Freyja stated, Oh, so matter-of-factly. "Worry not; this is not the first time for me. I'll teach you everything you need to know about an infant. Real or not." with a wave of her finger, she placed the baby cradled in her free arm, using magic to bring over pen and paper before presenting it to the other "take it. you'll need it."
There’s no way. There is absolutely NO way this is who she thinks this is. What is she doing here— WHY is she doing here?? First one of Hel’s is casually wandering about that stupid island, now this? Is Zenith leaking? Has her absence caused Askr’s powers to go haywire from the imbalance?!?
No. No, there’s little point in freaking out. If it is Askr, then apparently he doesn’t care to consider it important enough to tell her he’s not dead. Askr thinks he doesn’t need her? Fine. He can deal with whatever’s going on by himself. Who needs that idiot cow anyway?! She most definitely does not! She has better things to deal with!
…Like taking care of a fake baby. With the nightmare goat. Whose condescending voice is certainly just as punchable as she remembers.
“Excuse you?” Dragon growls, smacking away the pen and paper floating before her. “Of course I’m allowed,” Ignoring the fact she does have a point — the odds of her being allowed in the presence of an actual infant are extremely low, considering the situation. “This… thing was entrusted to me just as much as it was entrusted to you.”
A fact she isn’t necessarily happy about, and were it anyone else she would’ve been glad to dump the ‘responsibility’ off on them. But nooooo, she just had to make it personal by insulting her. “Tch.” She narrows her eyes at the ‘baby’. Why do humans always make them so small and weak? “It’s not as though it’s difficult. Just give it a name and send it off. If it comes back it’s competent, if not then clearly the thing wasn’t worth the hassle to begin with, so who cares.”
Citrinne has to be honest - perhaps it was the palace’s already uneasy vibes that made her ignore it, but the appearance of this teammate is just…peculiar. Still, that does not prevent Citrinne from waving to her as she approaches with ice in hand.
“Mind if I finish this with you by my side?” she offers, still taking in the full figure of the other while asking. “Citrinne, by the way. I’m a noble soldier of Brodia, currently serving as a knight in the academy.”
“Would it be fine to ask who you are? Your contributions toward today’s game were insightful - even if we were unable to make an audience with the Queen. Though honestly, I’m fine avoiding confrontation with whoever rules one of these lousy islands.”
Not even a moment after they were declared losers of their game had she decided to try and sneak off while everyone was distracted, but apparently mere seconds was not fast enough. Or perhaps her hiding spot was simply lacking.
“Fine. Do as you will.” ‘Not as though you’d listen anyway.’ Embla sighs. So much for peace and quiet. If she remembers correctly, this was one of the more chatty ones during their little discussion. Just her luck.
Though, at the very least… she is being complimented. Maybe this one isn’t completely and utterly insufferable. Maybe.
“Embla, pri…” No, wait. She can’t say prisoner. While technically true by legal definition, she is no prisoner. Not to mention outing herself as a criminal in any form would certainly make interacting with anyone affiliated with the knights even more of a pain than it already is. Best to not. “…person of interest, you could say.”
A beat of silence passes before she clears her throat. Clearly, that was not her finest recovery. Quicker she changes the subject, higher the odds are she doesn’t notice. “I doubt there was ever a Queen to begin with. If there was, she’s a lousy one. Not a follower in sight — Tch. Pathetic. At least losing saves us all the headache.”
I, too, have stolen this from Neffi. I’m sorry you keep getting robbed crime has truly become such an epidemic in TOA it’s a shame really. Will no one keep our streets safe 😔 (if it wasn’t obvious that was a joke ty neffi)
Name: Metal
Pronouns: She/Her
Birthday (no year): 10/6
Where are you from? What is your time zone? PST! (So like 3 hours ahead of TOA time), AMERICA RAAAAHHHHHHH‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️🦅🦅💥💥
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How long is your roleplay experience? That. Is complicated. Not entirely sure but let’s just go with 3 years i think.
How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? Okay so like looking back I was totally roleplaying with friends in elementary school via text but like we didn’t call it that so that didnt even register until I’d already been in TOA for a year so idk if that counts
How were you introduced to TOA? Mindlessly scrolling the Fire Emblem Three Houses tag and for some reason some random acceptance post caught my attention and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it
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Do you have any pets? One dog, two cats!! Do not ask for pictures you will never stop receiving them this is for your own good
What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) Winter because the bugs are dead and I can live without fear!!! (+ I live in some weird climate vortex where the temperature never gets lower than 60 or higher than 80 so I don’t have to deal with whatever temperature nonsense is going on everywhere else)
What is your IRL occupation? Student x2 😔
Some interests and things you like/enjoy? Hatsune Miku has me in a death grip. My world is a shrine to her being. So is yours. So is everyone. Hatsune Miku is all. The world is hers. SEKAAAIIIII DE—
What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Genshin, pjsk, pokemon, sometimes I stare longingly at persona 3 but I haven’t had time to actually play it yet, whatever random farming game has decided to trap me in my room for the next month straight
Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Fire and Torchic :)
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How did you get into Fire Emblem? I’m ashamed to say I’m one of the smash players who was confused by the random anime men 😔 at some point mentioned it to a friend while playing and he was like “oh the mobile game is a good starting point” and forced me to download it which started the spiral (my disappointment when I learned Sakura is not actually a cat and it was just a Halloween alt was immeasurable)
What Fire Emblem games have you played? Three Houses, Heroes, Fates (all three), Awakening, Engage (+I own Shadows of Valentia but I haven’t opened it I’m sorry I’m a fake fan)
First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: First: Heroes 😔 but if that doesn’t count then Birthright, Favorite: Three Houses
List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! No particular order: Edelgard, Plumeria, Líf, Yuri, Kagetsu
Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! Ashe. I have no idea why. I do not feel this way now I forget he exists frequently sorry buddy
If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays?
- Awakening: First: Chrom (accident, wanted Henry), Now: Chrom (on purpose)- Fates: First: Jakob, Now: Kaden- Three Houses: First: Ashe, Now: Yuri- Engage: Kagetsu. And I’d do it again. Love that guy.
Favorite Fire Emblem class? Dark Flier
If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? I want to say “random village npc that lives a peaceful life and doesn’t get involved in the war” but every school I’ve ever been to has had the stupid house system so I cannot deny the truth. I am random academy phase npc that dies on the first mission.
If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? Realistically Golden Deer but my heart lies with you beagles
If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boons: Reason & Riding, Banes: Faith & Gauntlets, Budding Talent: Heavy Armor
If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? Probably Firene if only because I would die in any other climate
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How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔 letters. It took me months to understand why everyone kept talking about toasters
Current TOA muses: Elise and Embla!!
Past TOA muses? Constance, Sothis, Kaden, Kagetsu
Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Constance, but I don’t see that happening. The more I looked into her character the more I made connections to stuff irl that I felt like I didn’t have the right to talk about and that fear of accidentally offending someone slowly killed her off
Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? I have three moods: “blonde girl that dyes her hair purple sometimes”, “hyperactive man”, and “what”
Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? Plumeria my beloved writing you would make me so uncomfortable which is technically IC but I can’t put myself through that I’m sorry girl I’m not strong enough
What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? I like the silly. I do very much enjoy the drama of course also though. Haha emotional pain :)
Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? TOAAAAA!!!! DROP AN ASKR MUSE, AND MY LIFE, IS YOURS. (No pressure to anyone though of course!)
Favorite TOA-related memories? So many. Too many. Cannot list them all here this is long enough as is. I love you TOA :)
Normal size text, small text, no preference? Small text is too much effort for me but I don’t ever notice the difference unless it’s right next to normal text tbh
Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 He lurks. Every day he grows stronger. I don’t know how long I can fight off his return. He has a sword and he is strong and he knows it. Also Metodey for some reason??
"A moment of your time!" Emcee catches up to you before you can disperse to your room or rejoin with your teammates, or wherever else it is you're heading off to.
"This way, this way." The strange host ushers you into a small shack, curtained off from the outside. They offer you a chair and a bright lamp hangs overhead.
"Now then," they start, positioning themselves across from you. "You hoarded the most coins during your game this week. Miss Money Bags - has a ring to it! Tell us about your strategy."
In their hand is a voice amplifying stick, which they hold out to you now.
Only two steps off the train, and she’s already being harassed yet again. In the moment, though she follows, she wonders... Just how bad would it be if she tried to kill this guy? Do they really need ‘Emcee’?
A sigh and a shake of the head, and the thought is gone. A second interview… something like that must mean that the ‘audience’, whoever that may be, actually like her... Which totally doesn’t matter, of course — she doesn’t need anyone to like her, she’s not weak enough to want that and it’s completely irrelevant information. She’s here to win, not ‘make friends’. One can’t exactly win a game with no host to run it. That’s the only reason to let this play out.
…Though maybe the thought isn’t entirely gone. Shining another bright light on her after she had made so clear how against that she was is certainly not helping the host. Ow, her eye again. Rude x2.
“There is no ‘strategy’.” She leans back into the chair with a slight huff and roll of the eye. How the question managed to become even more pointlessly ridiculous than the time prior is beyond her. Strategy? To the dumb shiny thing mortals obsess over? Seriously?? What is she supposed to do? Use the money as bait for even more money??? That’s stupid.
“There were coins on the ground and I picked them up. This is nothing revolutionary about this. The fact my opponent couldn’t keep hold on his finds for more than a few seconds sounds to me like it was… what was it the mortals call it…? A ‘skill issue’?” Saying the words feel incorrect. A feeling only solidified by the pang she feels soon after. Ah. That must be ‘cringe’.
…Humans have the dumbest words for everything don’t they.
“I did say our victory was assured, did I not? It’s not my fault he didn’t surrender when I gave him the option.”A beat, then she leans into the stick a little. She isn’t quite sure where others may be viewing this from, but she makes a point to look up to where she thinks any visual recording may be happening from, however that may be, just to really drive her point home.
“Other teams… There’s still time. Don’t make the same mistake your little red-haired friend made. Make the right choice, and just give up.”
She is still feeling slightly spiteful of the whole ordeal. Not that the WHOLE rat team deserves this, but who is she to pick and choose who gets crickets and who doesn't? So, in the dead of night, Anselma has left a lovely gift—a box of crickets. Enjoy the song of their people! Watch as they hop around you! Fear them!
“…Hm.” What an odd box. She had nearly kicked it on her way back to ‘her’ room, the box only saved by the chirping emanating from it moments before. Now, she instead crouches in front of the box, peering into it, watching the small creatures hop about and chirp.
Those are crickets. Those are definitely crickets. But why are there crickets? Who just leaves a box of crickets? What’s the point in that? Is it like leaving a baby? Is she expected to take care of this now???
Slowly, Embla finds herself rising to her feet, the box of crickets now rising with her as she carries it surprisingly gently, rather than leaving it on the floor. She… supposes, she can keep them?? Less revolting than a mortal child would have been, certainly. Crickets are delightful. She has no idea who would abandon such a thing.
“…Your name shall be Elm 2.” She mutters quietly to no cricket in particular, approaching the door properly now, crickets in tow. No point to giving them separate names, anyway. No one can tell them apart. They probably can’t even tell themselves apart.
Shifting the weight of the box to one arm, she reaches out to open the door…
Then closes it, once she sees the boy down on all fours and… eating, or at the very least hunting the insects as if he’s some sort of cat. Because that is sane and normal behavior, of course. She is the weird one in this room. Truly, what is wrong with the mortals? Askr threw his life away for this???
"A moment of your time!" Emcee catches up to you before you can disperse to your room or rejoin with your teammates, or wherever else it is you're heading off to.
"This way, this way." The strange host ushers you into a small shack, curtained off from the outside. They offer you a chair and a bright lamp hangs overhead.
"Now then," they start, positioning themselves across from you. "Your team is currently in 1st place. Do you think you're poised to take the win?"
In their hand is a voice amplifying stick, which they hold out to you now.
Embla fails to suppress a groan of annoyance at the sudden interruption. Seriously? She already did their thing, she just wants to go inside where it’s dark. Her everything is killing her.
Still, this one seems to be important around here, so she follows with minimal grumbling as she’s lead away. And with minimal hissing when they suddenly shine a light in her face and shove some weird device in front of her, which deserves far more acknowledgment than it gets. Ow, her eye. Rude.
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as she leans back in her seat with a sigh. “This is what you dragged me here for?” Typical, of course it is. Fail her in front of everyone even though she totally completed the task, then passive-aggressively mock her for being the only one on her team to fail. This whole island just wants her to suffer.
It only said ‘provoke someone into starting a fight’. That’s what she did. It’s not her fault the fight didn’t go beyond the start, that person was crazy.
“Of course victory is assured. Is that not already obvious?” Honestly, this is already a waste of time. Who is this even for? “It’s pathetic, really. With how far the gap is, you may as well declare us the winners now and save yourselves the effort. And me the torment.”
From a distance, Maria sees someone she hadn't expected to see: Miss Embla, who had seemed to disdain most things light and bright and especially festive in the little time she had known her. Which made her presence here all the more curious, and especially worrying. What was Happyland so far if not a surfeit of light, bright, and festive?
So she circles around, returning a few minutes later with a simple flask of water. The heat and sunshine could be brutal, especially for those less accustomed to it.
"Hi, Miss Embla!" Maria smiles as she approaches, but keeps the exuberance of her voice to a gentle minimum, holding out the glass for the other to take. "It's pretty bright out here, huh? Here's some water, just in case."
The girl from the illusion… Maria, she believes it was? Strange, she can never seem to recall the name of mortals, nor does she ever care to, and yet… The sun must truly be getting to her.
Embla had of course noticed her amongst the crowd (as well as how she unfortunately wears a color different from her own this time, disappointingly), but she hadn’t expected she to be noticed. Or approached, for that matter. And to be given an offering no less, on such a thoughtful premise…
“Hmph. Do not worry yourself over me. I am fine.” Slightly-less-clawed hand takes the glass, only a slight hesitation in it, for once. This mortal doesn’t strike her as the type to poison such a thing as water. When was the last time she had water, anyway? Yesterday? A week ago? Centuries ago? Time is a blur.
“I should hope you have been… ‘hydrating’ as well. It would be inconvenient to your team if you were to pass out. Or worse.” It feels odd, advocating against ill will befalling her ‘enemies’. By all accounts, she should want them to pass out, or away. It would make winning easier, should their numbers thin. Still, she would prefer it happen to another, instead of her water source.
Embla nearly trips. Who does this insignificant speck think she is?
The words feel targeted, like an arrow aimed straight at where her heart would be if one still remained. Of course, they aren’t — couldn’t be, but if they were they would certainly strike a nerve. Which she knows, because they did anyway.
“And here I thought humanity prided themselves on self-sufficiency.”She fires a glare right back. “You want to do everything yourself, but the moment something goes wrong it’s always someone else who’s to blame. Typical. It’s pathetic, really.”
‘Pathetic’ is an understatement. It’s infuriating, really. The arrogance of the statement, to believe that gods have a say in death? To then get angry when they don’t? They think she hasn’t tried? Of course she had, and she has no doubt the cow had too when his human pet died.
Only because it’s an inconvenience, investing so much into a mortal, only to lose them in the blink of an eye. All the time and energy down the drain, reduced to nothing. Left to just replace them with the next of kin — but it’s never the same. Doesn’t matter how many years, decades, centuries go by. No one will ever be the same.
Thrasir, in her subconscious, stepped back and allowed Veronica to speak. As though she wasn't Veronica herself. She was, but only Líf could call her that. Only Líf could acknowledge that. The dead girl was furious. Magic sparkled to life in her hands, hands that once would have killed for the goddess.
"Self-sufficiency is what we strive for, but when that self-sufficiency is ripped away from us, by another god no less," Veronica said, though being as she was still Thrasir, fully being able to express anger was beyond her, "I think we can rightfully wish our own to take action."
Scarlet red fire flared towards Embla, as Thrasir allowed the magic to escape her finger tips. She would have died for Embla. Instead her humanity was stripped from her and she became Hel's puppet instead.
"Where is one's "self-sufficiency" when an army of undead is cutting lives down to be added to their ranks, after all?"
The heat of flame flies past, only barely missing thanks to already having her guard up, but for once an attempted assassination is the least of her concerns. This is beginning to sound far too similar to Hel’s behavior. It’s discomforting. She’s discomforting.
The initial conversation may have been brought upon for the purpose of her objective, but it’s grown far beyond that. So much so that it feels… wrong, knowing that out there, somewhere, somehow, there’s an audience. Far from the first time since her arrival in the worlds, she wished her power of closure still functioned.
“…You put too much faith in the gods.” It feels ironic to say, having been one who once thrived off such faith. Ironic further how little faith she finds herself having in them, too. “Inherently selfish beings, all of them. They might help you here and there, but the moment something big happens, they’re never anywhere to be found.”
Her own words sting her almost just as much as the flames, yet she can’t deny its truth. She’s not blind, she knows her people believe she abandoned them. Doesn’t matter that they abandoned her first, that fellow gods turned on her too in her hour of need, mortals only care what she doesn’t do. Never what she did. There’s no doubt whatever god this one followed is the same. No point in giving false hope.
“It does not matter how much you ‘pray’. They will never hear you.” She scoffs again, though a tiny, harmless cloud of what magic in her still remains nudges at the other’s leg, pushing her away from the cliff she has no doubt was long forgotten. Just in case. Death is inconvenient, after all. If they’re going to fight, she’d rather it be where they each have a fair shot. Not because she cares. “If you can’t stand on your own, you have no right to be alive.”
Thrasir stepped closer to Embla, feeling the puff of magic nudge her leg. Oh. She knew.
"I know the gods are selfish," she said, a new spell sparking to life in her hands. "It's impossible not to know. But I disagree with them not hearing me."
Fire crackled with more force this time, it weakened the cliff face she walked on. Good, perhaps this would satisfy her objective. Bread and circuses.
"Some of them hear and laugh at you." Because Hel had. "And no, I don't have a right to be alive. I'm an abomination, a long discarded tool, but as much as it would have been nice for a different outcome; Hel won't let me die!"
Unleashing the magic caused the cliff to shatter under her own feet and she suddenly found herself falling. Instinctively, Thrasir reached up and caught the remaining edge. Now she was truly at Embla's mercy.
"So go on, let me fall then," she grit out. "Since you don't care after all."
Embla’s eye visibly widens, both from words spoken and action taken. Is she from Midgard? Had she been right after all? Then, would that mean those words truly were meant for…?
No. Of course not. Impossible. Embla is fine. It must be some other kingdom, or some insignificant town on the outskirts that was taken. An Askran, probably. If it was one of hers she would know. Their blood is hers, she knows her own blood. Though this one doesn’t have any…
A blink, then another. Snap out of it. Now isn’t the time for that. She might not care about her, but she’d rather be set ablaze than allow the only other connection she has to the world she calls ‘hers’ perish.
Hardly a moment passes before she’s knelt at the cliffside, gripping the other’s arm tightly. “What are you doing, you fool?!” She hisses out, pulling on her arm to drag the assumed Askran back onto the ledge. She ignores the screaming voice in the back of her mind, shouting how this is so obviously a trap.
“Are you stupid?! Where did you think that little stunt of yours would get you, huh? Glory? Honor? Or are you just making a statement?” It’s strange, but for a moment, her mind recalls saying something along those lines before, long ago… Of course circumstances were different, that was back when she could care. This lecture is just a formality.
…Their hair is kind of similar.
The lone eye is quick to dart away. She huffs once again, rising to her own feet. “I believe it is safe to say the island’s center had best go unexplored, for now. Go back to your little weasel friends.” She only says it because it’s logical. If the terrain is bad now, it’s sure to get worse further in. Someone in a bad mindset shouldn’t be walking it. For the fairness of the game. Or… something.
As expected, he begins a second round. Good, they shouldn’t need more than the two. Her genius plan is working perfectly. Equally expected.
Embla does not know what the other options are! Scissors again!
…Is that supposed to happen? It’s the same as last time, which was a draw, so this certainly looks like another tie… What does ‘win’ and ‘lose’ in this situation even look like?
“Hm. Well then.” That was not in the plan. Ugh, this is taking forever. Friendly thoughts, Embla, friendly... Her ‘smile’ widens. “Another round?”
A different outcome, surprisingly. Or, perhaps, not so surprisingly. She assumes ties must be abnormal, at least. What kind of game results in only ties?
Judging by her opponent’s expression though… seems she won. “Hm,” Not exactly in the plan, but alright. “I suppose I get the… ‘top bunk’, you said? Lucky me…”
Her ‘skirt’ twitches, very nearly unfurling her wings to fly to the top before catching herself. Thankfully. Does she care if she’s exposed as inhuman? No. But this room is far too small for her wingspan. She may be stronger than most, and more resilient to pain at that, but smacking her wings against a wall would still hurt. Nothing wrong with climbing the ladder provided. The end result remains the same — sitting, and looking down on the others.
Embla nearly trips. Who does this insignificant speck think she is?
The words feel targeted, like an arrow aimed straight at where her heart would be if one still remained. Of course, they aren’t — couldn’t be, but if they were they would certainly strike a nerve. Which she knows, because they did anyway.
“And here I thought humanity prided themselves on self-sufficiency.”She fires a glare right back. “You want to do everything yourself, but the moment something goes wrong it’s always someone else who’s to blame. Typical. It’s pathetic, really.”
‘Pathetic’ is an understatement. It’s infuriating, really. The arrogance of the statement, to believe that gods have a say in death? To then get angry when they don’t? They think she hasn’t tried? Of course she had, and she has no doubt the cow had too when his human pet died.
Only because it’s an inconvenience, investing so much into a mortal, only to lose them in the blink of an eye. All the time and energy down the drain, reduced to nothing. Left to just replace them with the next of kin — but it’s never the same. Doesn’t matter how many years, decades, centuries go by. No one will ever be the same.
Thrasir, in her subconscious, stepped back and allowed Veronica to speak. As though she wasn't Veronica herself. She was, but only Líf could call her that. Only Líf could acknowledge that. The dead girl was furious. Magic sparkled to life in her hands, hands that once would have killed for the goddess.
"Self-sufficiency is what we strive for, but when that self-sufficiency is ripped away from us, by another god no less," Veronica said, though being as she was still Thrasir, fully being able to express anger was beyond her, "I think we can rightfully wish our own to take action."
Scarlet red fire flared towards Embla, as Thrasir allowed the magic to escape her finger tips. She would have died for Embla. Instead her humanity was stripped from her and she became Hel's puppet instead.
"Where is one's "self-sufficiency" when an army of undead is cutting lives down to be added to their ranks, after all?"
The heat of flame flies past, only barely missing thanks to already having her guard up, but for once an attempted assassination is the least of her concerns. This is beginning to sound far too similar to Hel’s behavior. It’s discomforting. She’s discomforting.
The initial conversation may have been brought upon for the purpose of her objective, but it’s grown far beyond that. So much so that it feels… wrong, knowing that out there, somewhere, somehow, there’s an audience. Far from the first time since her arrival in the worlds, she wished her power of closure still functioned.
“…You put too much faith in the gods.” It feels ironic to say, having been one who once thrived off such faith. Ironic further how little faith she finds herself having in them, too. “Inherently selfish beings, all of them. They might help you here and there, but the moment something big happens, they’re never anywhere to be found.”
Her own words sting her almost just as much as the flames, yet she can’t deny its truth. She’s not blind, she knows her people believe she abandoned them. Doesn’t matter that they abandoned her first, that fellow gods turned on her too in her hour of need, mortals only care what she doesn’t do. Never what she did. There’s no doubt whatever god this one followed is the same. No point in giving false hope.
“It does not matter how much you ‘pray’. They will never hear you.” She scoffs again, though a tiny, harmless cloud of what magic in her still remains nudges at the other’s leg, pushing her away from the cliff she has no doubt was long forgotten. Just in case. Death is inconvenient, after all. If they’re going to fight, she’d rather it be where they each have a fair shot. Not because she cares. “If you can’t stand on your own, you have no right to be alive.”
Embla nearly trips. Who does this insignificant speck think she is?
The words feel targeted, like an arrow aimed straight at where her heart would be if one still remained. Of course, they aren’t — couldn’t be, but if they were they would certainly strike a nerve. Which she knows, because they did anyway.
“And here I thought humanity prided themselves on self-sufficiency.”She fires a glare right back. “You want to do everything yourself, but the moment something goes wrong it’s always someone else who’s to blame. Typical. It’s pathetic, really.”
‘Pathetic’ is an understatement. It’s infuriating, really. The arrogance of the statement, to believe that gods have a say in death? To then get angry when they don’t? They think she hasn’t tried? Of course she had, and she has no doubt the cow had too when his human pet died.
Only because it’s an inconvenience, investing so much into a mortal, only to lose them in the blink of an eye. All the time and energy down the drain, reduced to nothing. Left to just replace them with the next of kin — but it’s never the same. Doesn’t matter how many years, decades, centuries go by. No one will ever be the same.
That silly paper she had been handed taunted her, even though she had tossed it aside soon after receiving it. What even did it even mean anyway? Not that Thrasir was too worried about it. After receiving it, she decided to go further into the centre of the central island. Find whatever was at the heart of it.
Was it dangerous? Absolutely. Did Thrasir care? Absolutely not.
What was there to care about? Death? She couldn't die. Not that anyone on this... adventure knew that. Sure, it would be inconvenient to be unconscious for who knows how long, but what was reward without risk?
The company she had been left with though left much to be desired. Was the Embla of her own failed world still alive? Did the Embla of her world care that her followers were all dead? And what did this Embla know? All these questions were unknown. Subconsciously, Thrasir wondered if whatever was left of Veronica resented Embla for not stepping in.
"A rather different terrain to what I am used to," Thrasir said out loud, to see how Embla would respond.
Embla had been given a simple objective, in her mind. The paper she had been given had hosted exactly what she had wanted, though it was also the only option she had payed any mind to. Perhaps they were all simple. Unsurprising. She doubts the mortals here could handle anything longer than a sentence.
The hardest part, she had thought, would be finding a target. But even that proved simple. A stranger wanting to ‘explore’ took surprisingly easy to her offer to join. Especially considering the… strangeness about her.
She reeks of death. Hel’s death. Yet that couldn’t be right. Not only would that make her from Midgard — impossible in its own right — Hel’s soldiers have always been mindless. This one has individuality. A name.
A name she must’ve heard incorrectly — there’s no way she said ‘Thrasir’.
Her senses must have weakened further than she thought if she’s making mistakes like this.
“Is that so?” Even if she’s mistaking the mark of Hel on the other’s being, death is unmistakable. Whatever realm the dead walk in Fodlan can’t be too different from the glimpses she’s seen of Midgard’s in the past; dark and unwelcoming. Annoyingly not too unsimilar to her own realm, but hers is far superior, of course.
“Perhaps the island’s heart is darker. I assume that would be what’s familiar to you.”
Thrasir kept her eyes ahead as she walked. It wouldn't do to trip and fall after all. It wouldn't do to provoke a goddess into fighting her. Ah, so the remnants of Veronica's heart did resent Embla. Fascinating, not that the lich cared. That the woman would assume what terrain would be familiar though...
"Nay, I believe the island's heart is more volatile," Thrasir hummed, a small smirk crossed her face as she glanced back at Embla. "With potential severe consequences for wrong moves. That is what I'm more used to."
Somewhere that she could manipulate. One well placed spell to upset the delicate balance so she could move in with Líf and rain death and destruction upon a world. A gleam came to Thrasir's eyes as she recalled how she worked at Hel's weapon.
The current path they were on was hardly that sort of place, though. But it was a steep path, wide, but sheer cliff drop on one side and cliff face on the other. Certainly one wrong move could cause a fall, but that would require a weakness in the path somewhere.
On the surface, the god merely hums, bored expression ever present. But on the inside, the other’s response… confuses her, to say the least. She may not have ever gone in Hel’s realm (she despises that woman, if one can even call her that), but she could’ve sworn it seemed like darkened skies lived beyond. Perhaps this world’s equivalent is a kinder death? It doesn’t sound right, but until she meets this world’s sovereign, she has no way to know.
Alternatively… is she being threatened? She smirked. She saw it. No one smirks with good intention. Is she going to try to push her off the cliff? Her ‘skirt’ shifts slightly. There’s a reason she chooses to walk behind when traveling with another, but should her ‘partner’ strike even without the element of surprise, her wings will be ready.
Now to act like she suspects nothing.
“You almost speak as though you’re experienced with such ‘consequences’. Messed up that badly, did you? How tragic.” She huffs a sharp laugh, though perhaps one that leans more towards ‘mocking’ than ‘friendly’. Something sort of cathartic, in a way. Acting ‘nice’ has been exhausting. If her following the instructions of her objective just so happens to give rise to the option of a break from that… who is she to refuse?
Besides, it’s not like this stranger is anyone important to her. Bridges can be burned. And how fun it is to watch the flames. “I jest. Surely you mustn’t have if you still remain... Unless you truly are that much of a failure.”
That silly paper she had been handed taunted her, even though she had tossed it aside soon after receiving it. What even did it even mean anyway? Not that Thrasir was too worried about it. After receiving it, she decided to go further into the centre of the central island. Find whatever was at the heart of it.
Was it dangerous? Absolutely. Did Thrasir care? Absolutely not.
What was there to care about? Death? She couldn't die. Not that anyone on this... adventure knew that. Sure, it would be inconvenient to be unconscious for who knows how long, but what was reward without risk?
The company she had been left with though left much to be desired. Was the Embla of her own failed world still alive? Did the Embla of her world care that her followers were all dead? And what did this Embla know? All these questions were unknown. Subconsciously, Thrasir wondered if whatever was left of Veronica resented Embla for not stepping in.
"A rather different terrain to what I am used to," Thrasir said out loud, to see how Embla would respond.
Embla had been given a simple objective, in her mind. The paper she had been given had hosted exactly what she had wanted, though it was also the only option she had payed any mind to. Perhaps they were all simple. Unsurprising. She doubts the mortals here could handle anything longer than a sentence.
The hardest part, she had thought, would be finding a target. But even that proved simple. A stranger wanting to ‘explore’ took surprisingly easy to her offer to join. Especially considering the… strangeness about her.
She can sense no blood running through her veins, only an essence that reeks of death. Hel’s death. Yet that couldn’t be right. Not only would that make her from Midgard — impossible in its own right — Hel’s soldiers have always been mindless. This one has individuality. A name.
A name she must’ve heard incorrectly — there’s no way she said ‘Thrasir’.
Her senses must have weakened further than she thought if she’s making mistakes like this.
“Is that so?” Even if she’s mistaking the mark of Hel on the other’s being, death is unmistakable. Whatever realm the dead walk in Fodlan can’t be too different from the glimpses she’s seen of Midgard’s in the past; dark and unwelcoming. Annoyingly not too unsimilar to her own realm, but hers is far superior, of course.
“Perhaps the island’s heart is darker. I assume that would be what’s familiar to you.”
What in the worlds is this kid saying. ‘Ro...sham...bo’…? What does that even mean? She thought they were playing whatever ‘rock paper scissors’ is?? Are they synonymous?? Why call it one thing if you’re just going to turn around and call it something else????
Ah, well, they’re already going. Who cares. Just copy the kid and get it over with.
Embla ‘chooses’ scissors!
Mimicking the… whatever that is he’s doing with his hands is easy enough. The heightened senses that come with being divine make it easier to cover the fact she doesn’t know what she’s doing, anyway. Or maybe this game is just easy. It’s been, what, three seconds and it’s already over? Typical mortal attention span.
“Ah, seems we tie. What a shame.” Embla gives a faint shrug of her shoulders to further sell the ‘unintentional’ feeling of the outcome. “I assume you don’t want to share,” Yggdrasil knows she doesn’t, she’d rather die, “So what say we go again, hm?”
"Aw, draw! Yeah." That would happen first time. At least she seems to know how to play the game? "Yeah, no offense but I am not interested in sharing a bed with you or anyone here."
As expected, he begins a second round. Good, they shouldn’t need more than the two. Her genius plan is working perfectly. Equally expected.
Embla does not know what the other options are! Scissors again!
…Is that supposed to happen? It’s the same as last time, which was a draw, so this certainly looks like another tie… What does ‘win’ and ‘lose’ in this situation even look like?
“Hm. Well then.” That was not in the plan. Ugh, this is taking forever. Friendly thoughts, Embla, friendly... Her ‘smile’ widens. “Another round?”
A god has no need for sleep. One may choose to sleep, on occasion, but she doesn’t have to. The divine are above that. Though even if she weren’t, whichbed wouldn’t matter. Why anyone would care about such mundane and inconsequential things are beyond her.
As expected, the professor speaks for peace, and the knight for violence. Predictable a scene as ever. She may as well be able to act out the rest of the interaction from here. ‘Noooo, Valter, you can’t kill people, killing bad :(‘ ‘hahaha maniacal laughter stab stab’ then they cry or whatever. Something dumb like that. Probably.
Embla rolls her eye at the interaction, though the action likely goes unnoticed due to the shadows she’s chosen to make her home for the conversation. “If we kill each other now, we will be fewer in number when the time comes for competition.” Which hardly matters — she could win this whole thing solo, she’s certain — but would still be inconvenient. Who will they use as sacrifice later if the weak among them are already dead? If they’re going to die either way (which of course they will, they’re mortals), at least let them die in a useful way.
Dragon steps forward to position herself in front of the other two. If they are this predictable, she may as well use it to her advantage. Play nice for a while, gain a bit of trust. She offers a smile — unpracticed and unnatural (and perhaps still unsettling despite her efforts), but a smile regardless. “I see nothing wrong with the professor’s idea. In fact, I volunteer myself for first round of this ‘activity’.”
She doesn’t know how to play any human games, let alone whatever ‘rock paper scissors’ is, but that’s fine. She’ll just copy whatever her opponent does for a round then ‘lose’ on purpose. It’s not like she’ll be sleeping in this room anyway.
Embla is...surprisingly a voice of reason, here. Which rubs Tormod the wrong way, but he'll take it for now. Valter getting ganged up on is too good to pass up.
The way she talks about rock paper scissors is...really weird? It feels like she puts emphasis on words just to mess with people. It's unnerving. But it's also funny, because she looks like she's trying so hard to look like a certain type of dark mage or something similar. If she were to ask him, she should probably try less.
...huh, wait. Her ears are pretty pointy, huh? And she lives in the basement, is dodgy about where she comes rom... Suddenly, things click into place. She must be some kind of laguz! Her red eyes are pretty draconian if he's judging her Tellius-like, but there are so many different kinds of laguz he's learned about she could be a squirrel for all he knows.
Anyway. She's still weird, but it makes a lot more sense now. And if she's evil it's a bit more understandable.
"Okay! I'll match ya for it. I definitely want a top bunk. Ro...sham...bo!"
What in the worlds is this kid saying. ‘Ro...sham...bo’…? What does that even mean? She thought they were playing whatever ‘rock paper scissors’ is?? Are they synonymous?? Why call it one thing if you’re just going to turn around and call it something else????
Ah, well, they’re already going. Who cares. Just copy the kid and get it over with.
Embla ‘chooses’ scissors!
Mimicking the… whatever that is he’s doing with his hands is easy enough. The heightened senses that come with being divine make it easier to cover the fact she doesn’t know what she’s doing, anyway. Or maybe this game is just easy. It’s been, what, three seconds and it’s already over? Typical mortal attention span.
“Ah, seems we tie. What a shame.” Embla gives a faint shrug of her shoulders to further sell the ‘unintentional’ feeling of the outcome. “I assume you don’t want to share,” Yggdrasil knows she doesn’t, she’d rather die, “So what say we go again, hm?”
