her breath caught in her throat . oh , of course it would happen at the wrong second .
alice puffed her chest in a small moment of confidence peering through her consistent meekness . “ nearly none . “ she spoke carefully , each syllable receiving its own click on her tongue .
Perhaps that was the case, yet, he found himself sincerely doubting it. Hence his expression only flickered in a moment of mild amusement before pressing on. “A time will come when you face a situation of life and death. Let us hope your spirits won’t claim you then, or their wisdom may be wasted after all.”
there was a hush , a gentle whisper hovering in the air . dead voices were in a constant buzz around her , a whirlwind of different conversations . all of them conjoining in one mass of noise . sometimes it was hard to hear over them . sometimes they grew so loud they filled her ears , like blaring sirens . poor alice could hear almost nothing else .
whatever the other had said had been lost in the crowd of it all . she heard it , but under it all it sounded like a wimpish murmur . she swallowed her nerves for a moment ,
“ sorry , i didn’t get that . “
A thick brow raised at her lame response, irritation barely masked behind an ordinarily mute expression. With arms folded across his chest, he made a point of sighing at Alice, though he knew from experience she truly didn’t intend it.
“How much of your lessons do you miss, Jameson, when you lose yourself in that head of yours?” he wondered, his tone void of sympathy.
archery was hardly new to the girl, it was the first and only love of her life. spending time in the practice range was her favorite thing to do. as she drew her bow, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, “perfect aim ought not to be tested. it would be wise for you to not walk between the target and my arrow.” offered she, playful smile on her lips to show she wasn’t being rude, though shew as serious.
Plucking his own arrow from the target ahead of them, he turned his head to eye her expression so he might better guess her tone. With a snort of his own, he raised his hands in surrender and stepped away, moving back into line. “Where is the excitement if you already know where every shot will land?” he mused as he trod back across the frost hardened grass.
the library was fairly occupied, quiet but for the occasional flutter of pages and whisper of voices. romi walked the shelves with purpose, eyes dancing from person to person. bran had been meant to meet her for a spot of tea, but when the time came she had not showed; romi didn’t doubt she was lost in a book somewhere, having forgotten all reality, but where was the question that needed answering. mircea’s library was much bigger than the one at the abbey, and with a sigh she realised it could take her hours to find the smaller woman. “ well, there goes my afternoon. ”
Naturally, the other’s motivations were lost on him, yet Milos figured he could confidently assume what bothered the young woman that muttered as she passed him.
“Perhaps I could draw you a map?” he suggested dryly, turning his head from the title he flicked through to regard her. Ordinarily he wasn’t one to disturb another’s business, especially in the so-called quiet of a busy library, yet he supposed as a teacher here he ought to at least try and be helpful. Ordinarily this would be the perfect place to avoid people. Not so when assignments were due, it seemed. “What is it you’re looking for?”
michael fassbender, male, he/him ♛ gracing the halls of the academy is milos györffi from the region of danruba. they are known to be of commoner blood and they are forty one years old. their gift is imperviability and they have been teaching strategy and the art of war at the academy for 6 months. i hear that they are resolute & withdrawn and they remind me of a sharp gust of wind, the first break of sunrise and the crash of metal upon metal, i guess that’s why they call them the devoted. ( flint, 22, gmt, they/them )
Afternoon! Flint here, and here’s Milos. I’ve written a hell of a lot about him under here in a biography format with his history, personality and powers all wrapped in, so if you would like a tl;dr or are otherwise interesting in chatting and plotting, please hit me up or like this post and I’ll message you! I’m looking forward to writing with you guys :D
Danruba is famous for its harsh climates and the harsher soldiers it produces. Raised amid the icy, war torn state, Milos was never any different. From a young age, he thrived as a capable and enthusiastic warrior; a boyish penchant for destruction turned deftly to aid the future of Wallochia.
Of course, as a youngster, his weapons were made of wood and hardly made a scratch - not that Milos didn’t try his hardest whenever he thought he could get away with it. Their studies were, for a time, vastly more important. Capable children such as himself were selected to learn basic reading and arithmetic, at least enough for them to get by following instructions on the battlefield.
As Milos aged, he struggled with reading, finding it almost impossible to concentrate on the slow plod from word to word. He never tired of activity, however, and would find himself whenever possible training his body and reflexes in a feverish routine. Without the playmates other children preferred to play with, Milos had to keep himself entertained somehow. Not that he was ever jealous, of course. Games were for children far stupider than himself. At the age of ten, he fancied he possessed far greater potential.
Aside from a remarkable fervour for fighting and another just as keen to avoid every social responsibility possible, his so-called potential only materialised when the students began to work with real steel. Despite years of training to avoid such things, mistakes were bound to happen. Milos would have been at the end of a truly catastrophic one, had the blade ever pierced his skin. Hurled with the force to slice his chest wide open, the blade made short work of his tunic and leathers but left his skin without a scratch.
There it was. That excellence he had felt all these years, finally blossoming. “Again!” He cried, determined to test his mettle as he demanded blow after blow that could not whether his skin nor fatigue his body. He was insatiable for the power he felt in his very skin.
Sending Milos to the Academy was the greatest honour his simple family had ever been bestowed. It was up to him to make them proud, and to his credit, he never shirked his duties. Training himself with the same voracious fervour, he created a routine of physical training, swordsmanship, strategy and made plenty of time for the learning of history, anatomy and even the language of the so despised Olloma Empire that had threatened the borders of his homeland for so many years, if only so he might glean some information from them in the future.
In the multitude of past skirmishes for land and fortune, many of the soldiers in his family had been felled by Olloman soldiers. Never mind the fact that these attacks were normally helmed by Wallochnian attacks - in Milos opinion, the nation itself must pay for these deaths and every other brave Wallochnian felled by their hands. National pride site firmly in Milos’ heart, and he views the land around his nation with the same hungry eye as its king. To him, they are weak and for the taking, something he is proud to assist in.
His vices for violence and the aversion of other students remained throughout his studies at Mircea. Quick to anger and far too proud to take a joke, he found himself resenting the vast majority of his classmates and their japes. He would rise above them, and that he did, though he earned no respect from his peers from it. Drinking and cavorting with the other youths held no appeal for him. What use was drinking the night away when the hangover kept him from his training? What use were friends or lovers that would steal him from his evening prayers and his last moments of study?
There was only one vice that captivated him. Only one woman; Hedwig Schiller. Another student at the time; some great orater and diligent in the way he admired, while still maintaining her touch with the outside world. People liked her for her intelligence, while they hated him for his own self-proclaimed excellence. A strange sort of jealousy turned to a covetous longing for the woman, though he never had the confidence to speak to her. She would stay with him, though, always: in the back of his mind and the corner of his eye, as much as he could assure it. It was a foolish distraction, but always he would dream of one day. One day, far from now. It never came.
The harshness of his heart was only hastened by the path of a warrior in Mircea. He was proud to be gifted, hated those that were jealous of the students in their fine castle and often made a show of visiting the worshippers of the Cult in their bizarre communes. To feel exalted by them was the greatest feeling of all. As years passed and he completed his exams, he maintained these trips and brought them to heart as he was sent out into battle.
With a body that never tired, took ill or fell to blows, Milos was an unstoppable force on the battlefield. Gifted as he was, prizes and higher positions were bestowed upon him quickly. His tactical mind was in its element in the heat of battle as adrenaline coursed through his veins, his eyes alight with bloodlust. It was a passion he longed to share, to bolster the ranks of the nation’s army. Though he was reluctant to retire, age was beginning to catch up on him, and he was pragmatic enough to recognise his exceptional talents could be put to better use elsewhere.
And so, he returned to Mircea, where for the past few months he has held a position teaching military strategy and history to the warriors and scholars of its halls. He finds a great passion in it, and finds an unusual patience in retracing the steps of war with his students. They will find themselves among it soon, he knows, and they must be prepared.
The next time I saw you, you were breaking down
A million years had gone away
Looked right at me, I just turned around
There was still nothing I could say
But I’m gonna keep you in love with me for a while
I’m gonna keep you in love with me
I’m gonna keep you in love with me for a while
I’m gonna keep you in love with me
