dolls with diamonds inside

love for you is terrifying; it's like a religion. muse/guidelines muse/credits

[knaverie]

gaiaden‌:

“ my hero ? oh, what is that ? ” though, admittedly she did find him very heroic, she would never give him the satisfaction of a compliment unless it was truly warranted. she finds herself a bit flustered at the very mention of missing him, but she will giggle and shake her head. perhaps this is the proper response she is looking for. whether it is his favored response does not concern her momentarily due to her state of mind and state of being. 

“ well .. i am glad you came back in one piece — i think .. i lost some materia outside, but there were a few fiends nearby. i didn’t want to intrude on something without much protection, but .. now that you are here i .. ” she fades away, hoping that he could perhaps be of service to her. she always did need a bit of help with her own projects and assignments, but sometimes there were moments she really could not help. 

So close and yet so far, forever doomed to be mere feet away from the warmth of her open admiration. It was his carrot on a stick, the driving force behind every visit - he did so enjoy the back and forth, the chase of finding himself in the limelight of her appreciation.

“Hey - that hurts, you know. I happen to be the defacto hero around these parts. Ask anybody!” 

Joking mood aside, her words situated right into that mindset, brows threaded near to the seam. “Outside? What kinda materia? Shouldn’t take no time to mop up the fiends outside, I’d say. You down to help?” He knew she was capable - more than capable, a force of nature all her own. 

[knaverie]

muse list updated!

[knaverie]

capteinoblivious‌:

“Of course not. I pledged my loyalty to Yuna.” The unwavering wish to help her fulfil her goal, to kill Sin—if that was even a possibility, but no way he’d let his parents’ death be in vain. He hadn’t spend his years training without results: swords, bows, daggers, axes. He tried everything to find a suitable way of fighting. To bring peace to this world and its inhabitants. He understood where Yuna’s motivation stemmed from and he wanted nothing more than to prove himself worthy—not just to Yuna, cause from that simple short meeting he could understand how important these people were to her.

“Yes, I may seem like an airhead,” Naruto spoke up, two daggers suddenly in his hand as he merely held them. “I like blitz and I like when the crowd screams. That’s cool.” He took a deep breath before simply throwing them into the air with certain strength and determination before lifting his bow, a magical enhanced arrow in his hand before he took a shot—almost gracefully letting his arrow hit one of his daggers while pushing the other further into the air to successfully hit two Ahriman in 2 totally different directions, both so surprised they fell right to the ground. “But I know how to fight, Sir Auron.” Even with his legs and fists.

His words are a tipping point - he’d pledged his loyalty to Yuna. That’s a good start. Not to Yevon, not to a religion trenched in corruption, but to the tipping point of what he hopes will be an upheaval of traditions long dead yet dreadfully unsent.

Desperation drenched, bleeding heart that he is, it’s his conviction that ultimately wins out, not his skills, impressive as they are. It’s not the pilgrimage that worries him, arduous as it is, but the end result. He has faith that they’ll make it there - the snag in his logic is what comes after, the fall out in the fallacy.

“Enough.” Tone nor expression belies the subtle bloom of praise harbored in his chest, stone-steady and still. “You are aware that this journey will be dangerous and tiring. There will be no backing out, few breaks, no diversions. We rest little until we make it to Zanarkind. Are you willing to commit to that?”

He imagined the answer was a resounding yes but he needed the answer voiced regardless. This pilgrimage was picture-perfect planned - he needed things set in stone.

[knaverie]

@maidenslaughter​ asked: "squad leader, ah, excuse me..." moblit's hands are gentle in pulling and brushing the hairs out from beneath his superior's goggles, tucking them neatly behind their ears. "you may need a new hairtie soon... seems this one's giving out." he'll have to look around, maybe ask nifa, about where to find better quality ties. his face colors, dusky at the cheekbones and nose, at having done that without their go-ahead but ... it was for their safety! that's all!” (touch meme)

Moblit can be the world’s sneakiest man -

to them, at least. No one else. Anyone with either eyes or ears can see or hear him bustling from a mile away, busy-bee bumbling, anxiety threaded. Hange was a special case of selective spacial awareness, preferring to be right in the thick of things, consumed by curiosity.

That he caught them still at all was a miracle, and mostly a hand forced by circumstances, both branch-perched like birds, waiting out the weather.

He startles them so much his hand rattles against their head mid-motion, pinball pinging. Mentally jarred, rattled, they find themselves blinking first, then processing, mid-mission gear shifting sideways to the diversion.

“Ah ? Oh. Huh. Guess they don’t hold up that well under pressure, huh?” 

He gets a smile for his troubles, brief and brittle, stress-cracked. “Hey - you’re kinda flush, you’re not gettin’ sick, are you?” They’re suddenly a touch too close for comfort, hip-bent to peer cautiously into the clarity of his reservation. “We have a little while before the expeditions over - you gonna hold up? I could tell Erwin you need a break. Honestly - you should take better care of yourself.”

Delightful irony, the statement of the century. 

@maidenslaughter​

[knaverie]

oursongofhealing‌:

     “R-right now?” It had completely caught the flutist off guard. By no means was Deuce a talented singer like Dorothea and Miss Manuela were and to put her on the spot all of a sudden? Somehow she seemed to have forgotten how to speak. Singing with their classmates was a joy, but on her own was only to unnerve the girl instead. Think Deuce, think!

   Hands came up and gestured for him to lower his energy with a sheepish smile. “Perhaps another time? If I suddenly began to sing in an attempt to be louder than you right this second, we would be disturbing everyone else around us. It would be rude, don’t you think?”

“What? Come on, there’s barely anyone around, and I bet no one would really even care!” Obliviousness, thy name is Zack Fair. He just didn’t get it. She was suffering from the very same stage fright he’d just assaulted her with, nervous and shy for all the same reasons. He just assumed, given her skill, that she’d be completely okay with singing, outstandingly talented.

He never once thought to ask otherwise.

“Here, here, I’ll start - ahhh. Hm... no, wrong key. Ahhhhh!” Who was helping who here? By the way, his insistence that no one was around to stare? Dead wrong. Several pairs of eyes were now dagger-pointed directly in their direction, burning holes in the wide-spread of his back.

[knaverie]

gnalliard‌:

Her burst of energy painted the room with color, the sudden shifting catching his eye and bringing the faintest smile to his lips. Contrasting forces cursed never to meet, tragic and aching but part of his code, tangled existence—and he watched her antics through weary but fascinated eyes, a low hum following hers.

The lines were blurred, visibly—he was no lightweight but tired limbs brought liquor to shame. His figure was but a product of fighting, heavy-lidded and yawning—but she was up and lively and reason to cling to consciousness amidst engulfing and comforting darkness.

“Ah,” he mused, parted lips and sluggish speech, “what kind of question is that?” He huffed, barely able to wrap his head around her statement and the meaning hidden between the lines. He was left at loss of words, drowsy but curious still, albeit unable to turn thoughts to words before her next question took him by storm, turned his insides upside-down and painted a grimace on his face.

“No shit,” quiet admission, overly bitter, surveying her features through drowsy eyes. “What kind of girl? Tsch, a pain in the ass,” he shook his head, barely taking notice of his words before they spilled over. “But I’m not sure about the ‘walk away’ part… her legs act weird sometimes. Yeah, probably not.”

She’d asked the question, wholly unprepared for anything but a scoff and a smoke-and-mirrors distraction. She hadn’t expected honesty, vague as it was, thinly veiled but bright enough to see blinded.

She should have, knew him well enough to know better, the transparency of his being paper thin, a shell of skin taut-tight against the rage of a thunderstorm -  nothing he did was ever subtle. 

Bitter confession a blade sharpened, he’d taken an ice pick to the crystal-cold curve of her cover, shattered the cheshire curl of her mask like glass. Motion stilled, lukewarm language bodied, her only relief the light outside, gaze glassy-distant and desperate for solace anywhere but his face.

Because right now she’s a transcript, readable, the whole of her body adoration-etched and waxing, full moon reverence. Skin concession-pricked, braille-brazen to the touch.

Another point for him. 

“Figured you had better tastes than that,’ she finally croaks sideways, vulnerability slipping but the weakness of her features still turned elsewhere, hidden. “But lucky for you, I know just who you’re talking about, and between you and me, I don’t think the leg thing really matters. Don’t see that one walking away anytime soon.”

 The world around her feels sharded, shattered - genuine softness burns her mouth like no other, feels heavy and heartsick on her tongue. Picked apart, cracked wide open in the limelight of a saccharine sunset, she feels hollow, like the words on exit dislodged something with them, like she spilled blood and guts both on the hardwood floors beneath them.

“Anyway - what’s got you so tired? You’re usually the one buzzing around. Long night?”

[knaverie]

MUSE TRACK

post  3 - 5  songs  that  remind  you  of  your  muse.

00 .         IRON, WOODKID.

a soldier on my own, I don't know the way. i'm riding up the heights of shame. i'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest.  i'm ready for the fight and fate. the sound of iron shots is stuck in my head, the thunder of the drums dictates the rhythm of the falls, the number of deaths, the rising of the heights ahead.

01 .         KEY ENTITY EXTRACTION I: DOMINO THE DESTITUTE, COHEED AND CAMBRIA

if you had the courage to stop me from turning Into what would be the worst in everybody's eyes. hey, I'm no angel, or the devil of your conscience to tell you who to be, good, bad, ugly or otherwise. if you had good common sense, your choices would be gleaming flawless, i want no part in this self-deprecating, worthless, chemistry. we made our beds to lie in them proud, proud of our great mistakes. this warring knife, the flash of it's blade, turn about-face. I implore you, brother don't walk away, don't walk away from me. ‘cause this is our war.

02.          THE STRANGEST THINGS, RADICAL FACE.

the ghost inside my head, it never sleeps, it just rearranges thoughts and leaves me numb for weeks. but I'm okay, yeah I feel fine because I know there's more than one way to lose my mind, lose my mind / lose my mind / lose my mind. the crows are at the fence, they never blink, they just sharpen all their claws and bear their twisted teeth. but I won't bend and I won't move. don't have a lot left, just anger, and something to prove.

03 .         I AM BULLETPROOF, BLACK VEIL BRIDES

here we go holding onto lies, holding onto ties that vanished. cut the rope and fall into the sky, the devil fills our minds with sadness. the world's a gun and I've been aiming all my life. got something to live for, I know that I won't surrender. a warrior of youth. I'm taking over, a shot to the new world order. I am bulletproof.

04 .         NO EASY WAY, DIGITAL DAGGERS

i’m a victim of my instinct. unraveling and reeling, think I'm wise, our freedom can be deadly, i watch the walls around me, falling down so far away, from safe and sound. i’ve lost control, I've lost control.

05 .         ONE FOOT, FUN.

but I will die for my own sins – thanks a lot. we'll rise up ourselves – thanks for nothing at all. so up off the ground. our forefathers are nothing but dust now. i'll put one foot in front of the other one. I don't need a new love or a new life – just a better place to die. I'll put one foot in front of the other one. I don't need a new love or a new life – just a better place to die. maybe I should learn to shut my mouth. i am over twenty-five and I can't make a name for myself. some nights I break down and cry. I'm lucky that my father's still alive. he's been fighting all his life.

TAGGED BY:     @gnalliard​ TAGGING:   @blutlied​, @esquiisse​ (for both jean and hange!), whoever else wants it, steal away!

[knaverie]

dramaytan‌:

As soon as the stranger began to move, Gippal moves a few inches away to give them space. Even though he had made the conscious decision to heal the man, he wasn’t exactly sure if he should be preparing to get attacked in the next five minutes. From the looks of it, this guy wasn’t an Al Bhed, meaning there wasn’t really any reason for him to be on this island. Only the adventurous and brave (and usually ill-intentioned) chose to travel to Bikanel, so it was usually the unlucky ones who washed up on its sandy shores. If Gippal had to guess, this guy was one of the unlucky ones.

Glancing back at his companion, then around them, he looks back with a shake of his head. “Not that we saw. You come with a big group of people?” he asks, brow raised as he slowly rises to his feet. If he did, what did that mean? He wasn’t some Yevonite looking to cause some trouble, right? There was unease in the forefront of Gippal’s mind. If he had company with him, did he just send the rest of his group their way? Looking back at the other Al Bhed, he mouths to him, “Nyteu ‘as. Ycg dras ev drao caa yhouha.” He nods, walking away to do as Gippal asked.

“How did you get here, anyway?” Arms crossed over his chest, he looks him over once more, paying attention to the sword and coat on him. Despite his distrust, Gippal couldn’t help but feel like this guy was important. “You don’t exactly look like you came ready to play in the sand, know what I mean?”

“I didn’t.” He hadn’t exactly been in the business for a beach vacation, all things considered. Had never even been to Bikanel in life, let alone undeath. Was something of a fish out of water even in the dreamlike water-world of Dream Zanarkind. It was by sheer absorption from a religious past that he knew of Bikanel at all. 

His head reels in the information chipped in his lap backwards. He answers similarly, brushing dust and sand from hot-heavy fabric as he shifted upwards. “Sin.” Not entirely unbelievable but a bit of a heavy word to swallow. Death was what usually followed the ruins left in Sin’s wake, not relocation. 

Eventually his mind catches up, finally does a mental headcount of his missing party. “Seven in total, six besides me. Varying appearances. One Al Bhed.” The rest, he figures, would be easier to find - stick out like sore thumbs, just as he did. Kimahri especially, but Lulu nor Wakka were easy to miss in even more normal circumstances. Tidus, crowning blond-hair brilliance, could fit in a little better, and they’d undoubtedly at least heard a description of Yuna, summoner-kidnapping a newfound hobby of their’s.

[knaverie]

arwriaeth‌:

@knaverie​​ — cont.

B- Balamb ??

Of course.  His mind picked up small fragments of sense , eyes squinting ( as if that’d solve his processing issue. )  Once registered completely , Jace’s eyes wandered.  Neck moving in deliberate and small increments.  And lo and behold within a passage of seven seconds , a blurred image of a town.  City ??  Whatever it was , Jace felt his inner self cringe.

… How embarrassing …

Jace’s chest heaved , a vestige of a breathy laugh.  Even this effort counts as a pain akin to burning.  Especially the joints ; knees buckled from the meager force.  However , Jace’s lips curled into a genial grin.  Have to keep up appearances and all.

“ Indeed I do. ”  Punctuating his words with a cough adds onto the urgency of Jace’s dwindling condition.  “ … w- wait , is there’s a mode of transport you’re able to contact in a jiffy ??  Don’t think I’ll make it by foot alone. ”  Excellent self-evaluation , Captain Obvious.

(What a mess...)

Balamb wasn’t far by healthy standards, but this guy was far from healthy, buckled-knee brittle. A car would be a good idea - Garden nearby would be better.

Luck seemed determined to discount both of those ideas. He’d traveled the shore-side by foot, and Garden was absent, world-abroad.

“No.” Progress had only pushed him forward so much - he was better with words by far, much more palpable of a person in comparison to how he’d been, but an extrovert he was not. Awkward was more his style, comfortable.

He grants a sweeping glance before digging through his pocket and fishing out a vial, berry-blue and just as bitter. “Hold still.” He’s not clumsy with his hands by his delivery could use some work regardless, pouring pitches of the potion here and there, shoulders-legs-knees-and-hands, the prickly-cold sensation a remedy he hopes will at least make the walk possible, if not easier entirely.

“Let me know when or if it starts work. It should feel... cold, tingly.” His only other option was carrying and he wasn’t looking forward to that, exactly, would do it but was adverse to touch and more than a little suspicious.

[knaverie]

oursongofhealing‌:

     With some free time finally upon her, Deuce had set out toward her favorite spot to get in some practice with her flute. The day just wasn’t right when she couldn’t play a song or two in between classes and training. Music always managed to soothe one’s soul and she was no exception.

   What she had not counted on, however, was being stopped by a member of staff, specifically Manuela of all people. To hear her name called by her prompted the brunette to stop in her tracks and turn around, emerald eyes wide and blinking.

   “Ah, Miss Manuela..?” Words weren’t needed to answer part of her inquiry considering Deuce was holding her beloved flute to her chest. She flickered her eyes down at the instrument, stared, then returned her attention to the woman and smiled softly. “Yes, I play the flute. I…” Sometimes she sang, but that was more to herself just for fun. “I learned when I was small and have been practicing since then. Um… was there something you wanted to hear?”

Bingo ! Of course. She played the flute and it certainly seemed fitting, elegant-cute in a way that reflected quite nicely on the singer as a whole. Perhaps not a vocalist but music was music and she appreciated a like-minded soul. 

It could be so dreadfully lonely at the monastery sometimes. Of course, she’d prefer for someone to step up and fulfill the lover role in her theatrical life but friendship was just as good, especially if the basis of that friendship was something her entire life had revolved around.

“That’s beautiful! I can certainly tell that you have musical talent. Did you know that I happened to be an opera singer myself? Never was much good at instruments, I’m afraid, but should you ever want to practice, I could lend my voice as backing vocals. Ah, and of course, Dorothea is also quite a beautiful singer, if I do say so myself.”

Was that a bit of bragging thrown into the mix? Why, certainly not from someone as humble and as meek as the professor - of course not.

[knaverie]

gaiaden‌:

he was late this time. the church seemed to be very quiet when he was not here. she would have to admit, there was no denying that his company was something she had never experienced before. sure, he seemed a bit clumsy here and there, but she did miss him when he was away. 

the sound of church doors opening behind her pull her away from the very thoughts of missing him, finding the SOLDIER making his grand entrance.

“ zack, ” she says softly, but with hints of her own excitement. “ did .. work hold you up ? ” hands will tie behind her with a small tilt of the head. 

Three hours late isn’t his style - he’s not perfect-punctual but he’s not usually this tardy, either. He doesn’t like worrying people, especially not her, but sometimes things come up and he’s thankful she’s understanding, at least.

Her first mistake was doing little to hide her eagerness - shining eyes, voice peaking with just a touch of excitement, he picked up on it all immediately.

“Oh - did you miss me?” 

Zack’s fifty-fifty ego and genuine compassion but this time, it seems, the ego win’s out, spreading his grin wide as he heavy-thuds along the raised wooden floor of the church. 

“Things got a little... hectic on my last assignment. Guess I lost track of time, heh. But never fear, your hero is here!”

[knaverie]

continued from here: 

Contrasted to his leisure, lush-lazy, she’s a livewire sparking, movement ticking against the edges of his peripheral. In a moment of unusual energy, she perches on the edge of the bed adjacent, legs back-and-forth swinging off the sides. Roles reversed.

He earns a ‘hm’ at first and nothing more. If he’s a brick wall barring sentiment, she’s a fortress, steel-plated. The wealth of her affection is row-planted miles beneath his feet, burst blooming through cement cracks, easily overlooked or brushed aside as weeds. Confessions bleed between the lines of mocking banter, barbed, words wielded like weapons.

“What, you don’t think I’m capable?” If there weren’t evidence of the contrary, she’d wonder too; she’s very much plagued by love, eaten up with the weight of it and all the consequences it shelters. Her feet drag through the muck of it, heavy and hopeless.

His idle-drunk slurring sneaks under her skin, chips her lips upwards in mischief - as always he’s trampled right onto the landmines of her impishness. “The way you say that makes it sound like you have been in love before, Pocko-chan - do tell! I wanna know everything. What kinda girl could steal your heart and walk away to tell the tale, huh?”

@gnalliard​

[knaverie]

maskedmuses‌:

“Sunshine…” Her tone, which had been filled with mirth moments before, rounded towards concern. Sun was nice, something she adored, but with the broad open sky it promised, it was an odd idea that confounded her. “I’m not sure…but I’d be willing to try.” Step out of her comfort zone with the man with sky-like eyes. He would push, but she would give to his whims.

Because there was only one real wish she had, and he gave it to her in these moments.

But just like that, her playfulness came back around as she shook her head, her ponytail shifting from side to side. “I feel like you might count this as a date, if I’m not careful!” Aerith laughed, returning her hand behind her back. “And what exactly do you mean by that, Zack?” She tilted her head, leaning forward, questioning. “How are you planning to warm me up, exactly?” The grin broadened into a smile as she lifted up some, nodding.

“As soon as you want. I think I’d be ready any time.”

He hadn’t forgotten her fear. On the contrary, her fear was his main motivator, his driving force. The sky was vast and freeing, beautiful, something he was sure she’d appreciate once exposed to it. Cramped underground, secluded from sunlight was no way to live. 

“That’s the spirit!” 

“Oh, hey !! - and what’s wrong with a nice date to the beach? I mean, come on - sand, sunshine, crystal blue waves... a date as handsome and charming as I am? What could be better?” His ego is only partially inflated; he was something of a lady’s man, truth be told, or at least he fancied himself as much. In execution? Well... the darling dressing of his kindness helped.

What he was never prepared for was the quick quip of her wit backwards - eyes wide, hands chest-high, defensive. “Blan...kets? A coat? That’s it, I’ll... buy you a coat?” Was that the right answer? Matters of this fragility often felt like tests and sometimes he outright flunked. Trapdoor trickery - he had other ways, of course, but Aerith was particularly fiery and he wasn’t looking to get burned.

“Oh, really? So anytime I want? What about... right now, hm?”

[knaverie]

decretiia‌:

He was finally leading her out. Thank heavens. Esther would be better off running by now, but she didn’t know her way out. Only the way they brought her in… From the helipad and down. And jumping off a building didn’t seem wise at all. Rubbing her arm, which was starting to ache, Esther bit her lower lip as he asked for her name.

She’d have to lie. Esther Roselynn was a test subject and had escaped… So using her real name would put her back in the lab. And so, lying about her name was all she could do, until the word got out that she escaped…

She didn’t want to, but this was something she had to do. For her own safety. “…My name is Eve.” Her twin sister’s name. Oh, how she hoped that her sister wouldn’t mind. “Eve Roselynn. It’s… nice to meet you…”

Some questions rebounded in his head rang suspicious. How did she manage to slip in passed security and get lost so far into what was a maze of a headquarters? And why had no one else stopped to help her? Of course his thought processes skewed positively, as usual, not once straying into the path of suspecting her. 

“Eve! Pretty name. My name’s Zack Fair, Soldier, First Class.” A weighty title but one he still took a decent amount of pride in regardless of its background, regardless of the foundation he balanced on, pins-and-needles fragile. 

Down several steps and towards the main elevator of the floor, he weaves passed figures normally alert to unfamiliar faces, thankfully uninterested in the girl given the curtain of his presence, camoflauge importance shielding her suspicion.

“All we gotta do is head down this elevator, down a few stairs, and you’ll be home free. You never did tell me why you were here, though - on a tour?”

[knaverie]

[knaverie]

reapinghook‌:

   A CAT LIKE HER IS PRONE to slip into the shadiest of places. “ my, i thought i’d bring signs of life to the place more than anything. good for business and all. ” a girl can only spend so much time jumping at shadows her whole life till she develops an immunity against ( or a taste for ) the morbid.

   a blood test here, an immunization there. she’s got a busy schedule doing shit all but takemi’s got herself bookmarked on her planner. weekly. being pretty far behind, and with what meager healthcare she’s got, nobody should blame mitsuko for getting a little desperate. a hand stuffed in her long coat’s pocket, ankles cross. the keychain of a designer purse tinkles and winks brighter than the smile she flashes to the good doctor. truth be told, what’s got her under the weather isn’t something takemi can cure … though speaking professionally, the treatment she’s received exceeded expectations.

     “ how’s the place running if it seems people around here are turning tail with loose lips? ”

Any sign of life was a pulse against the cold-dead tile of her clinic - she wasn’t wrong in that regard. Reputation ruined, people weren’t exactly lining up outside to play victim to someone rumored dangerous, deadly. 

“Ah, of course - the people will be piling in in no time.” Sarcasm-soured, it’s all in good jest. Takemi talks in treasured bathos, compassion curtailed by curdled kindness. A rouse, of course - she’s steeped in concern, criss-cross threaded with empathy.

“Why, my award-winning beside manner, clearly,’ she answers, slipping the clipboard down and wheeling herself sideways over to her best - and one of her only - steady patients. 

The once-over she gives Mitsuko is second-nature, instinctual. Blood, bones, unmarred skin accounted for, no bruises or battered limbs. She worries - Mitsuko’s healthcare spins a long line of coin-purse bankrupt neglect. “What does bring you to see me today anyway? Desire to sample my beaming smile and warm beside manner or something a little more serious?”

It’s flu season, cold weather, pneumonia in waiting. Youth on her side, Mitsuko has an advantage, but healthcare against her, it would only take one week of waiting around for things to go sideways. 

[knaverie]

thornvows‌:

“  no,  ”    dorothea sniffs, not at all elegant and not trying to be,    “  no, thank you for the offer but i don’t believe tea will help at all.  ” 

her nose is running a little, so dorothea reaches around manuela’s back to dab at it with her sleeve. the last time she’s ever looked so uncouth around manuela, dorothea was homeless and literally covered in months worth of dirt. mortification can come later. for now there’s only remorse and the comfort of manuela’s arms, and may that be enough to keep dorothea’s demons from making bonemeal of her grief.

she sinks further into manuela, nearly going lax. her eyes flutter shut.

“  …  i’ve never asked before,  ”    her voice is a faraway thing, as if reaching manuela from the opposite end of a theater, little more than an echo,    “  but   …   why did you stay, manuela ?    what made you side with edie,  with  US  ?      and what makes you stay even now ?   ”

It’s a question rooted in unsteady ground, a shifting foundation at their feet - it had seemed like the right choice at the time. Still did often, but rarely, centre-field in a corpse-fed wasteland, she wavered.

Who wouldn’t?

Those were her students - Dorothea’s friends. That they struggled to turn sworn and shield against familiar faces was only natural.

Fingers tangle and pull through the chestnut softness of Dorothea’s hair, idle comfort, a hum pushing passed lips tight-locked in thought.

“Well,’ she finally starts, crescendo crestfallen - “I’ve seen... the hardships caused by the church and while I’m not certain on everything that Edelgard spoke on... a lot of it seemed too close for comfort.” 

She remembers a girl, framed exactly like this but smaller, soot-dusted and street-sick, withering away thanks to circumstances beyond her control. Other kids just like her, too - she’d seen a number of them, both before and during her teaching career. Crest classism. 

“Do you regret your decision, Dorothea?”