The Queen of Spades

Left Hand of Nohr // --closed rp blog with ToA--

[ladamedepique]

And there shall be light.

[ladamedepique]

.  .  .  .  .

[ladamedepique]

STRENGTH UPRIGHT. — ♡

vermilique​:

ladamedepique​:

For all the solid ground under their feet now, they are all adrift here, grasping onto anything that seemed to have the stability to weather the tide…

“It is a story without a beginning or a middle, only the end,” Camilla replied then, her eyes falling from Caeldori to her own hands. Finger by finger, she pulled the leather loose, first from one hand, then another. The calluses were familiar, as were the blunted nail, pitted where old injuries and training accidents caused the growth to buckle temporarily, and the pale scars across her knuckles. She remembered how all of those came about.

“Not as exciting as if we had the whole thing, but a scar is a scar…” She laughed. The sound felt metallic, the quality of steel blades locking in battle. Sparks trailed from vocal cords, sharp and bright. “Something wanted me dead; I think it’s pretty safe to say I didn’t let that happen–though I have to say… I get the feeling that it almost happened.”

The chuckle that followed was warmer, and Camilla stood to her full height then, rolling her shoulders back—scar pulling uncomfortable as she did—as she looked over at the head of brilliant red again. “To think, I might have had a more interesting story for you than this, dear. What a shame.”

“But no.” She folded her clothing carefully, tucking smaller pieces in the dark folds of her skirts as not to lose them when she came back for them at the end of the day. “I don’t think I felt much in the land even back at the Academy, but this place feels… Normal. Normal enough not to draw attention, but so normal that you can be sure it definitely isn’t.”

“Whoever… Whatever is behind this isn’t like the gods back home,” Camilla concluded with a hum. And a smile. “But if someone else’s god is going to foot the bill for us to treat ourselves, I say let them, hmm? With a scar like this, I’d say I’ve earned a bit of pampering. Care to join me, Caeldori?”

          she’s not sure why the mention of death is so unsettling, all of a sudden, more so than it had ever been before. the sky knight wouldn’t ever claim to be hardened to it — though she often wishes she could be, for the sake of being a better soldier — but there’s something different about it this time. almost as if… hearing lady camilla voice it brings her to the precipice of something, an almost something that’s just out of reach, its evasiveness leaving her wondering whether she even wants to know at all. i get the feeling it almost happened, she says. and caeldori finds herself in the odd position of wanting to say ‘ me too. ’

          ❝ hmm, so even royalty can’t feel anything out of the ordinary about this place… ❞ there goes the one working hypothesis she could have had. though hearing that fodlan itself lacks the buried vessels of draconic magic that litters their own continent is interesting for other reasons; she wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but are dragon veins really only unique back home? well, she guesses that makes sense, if they’re supposed to come from the influence of the land’s twin gods. maybe the dragons here were different. or maybe there weren’t dragons at all. the goddess the people here worshiped… seiros, right? or was that just the warrior who’d fought in her name? ugh, she’d have to brush up again when she got back.

                    ( if they got back. )

          fortunately for her wandering thoughts, lady camilla proves to have a leveler head on her shoulders, and she finds herself smiling at the suggestion and the rumors it brings to mind — these, she has heard. ❝ oh, yes! whatever this place is, they say that you can have anything at the drink stand if you just wish for it. i’ve been hoping to test that… do you think they’ll have— ❞

          only to realize she’s forgetting herself in the midst of all this. a new place, new people… it’s true she hadn’t expected to see lady camilla or any of the others of her father’s generation — especially the royal families! — here in fodlan, but that’s hardly an excuse. ❝ sorry, i may have gotten a little ahead of myself. ❞

          but the bashfulness is short-lived. it’s hard to fully restrain herself at the idea of limitless possibility, and it slips through in the zest behind her eye and the lightness of her gait as she follows. ❝ lead the way, lady camilla! ❞

                                                                                                                — fin.

.  .  .  .  .

[ladamedepique]

» i said brrr

jehannandancer​:

ladamedepique​:

The first seconds were promising; the ice held steadfast under her, but the patch that gave way was still too close behind her for comfort. Camilla didn’t trust it to bear both their weights if they moved too quickly (not that either of them could make any sudden movements now anyway). Shuffling on hands and knees along would be safer, crossing the glimmering surface behind Tethys’ purposeful strides. If she fell through again… She couldn’t chance it.

Each time she put her weight down, the cold stung at her palms and knees through the soaked leather and cloth—but the pain wasn’t unwelcome. It meant that she wasn’t going to succumb to the cold, not yet… There was still feeling remaining. Returning. 

“Careful, Tethys—!”

She didn’t fall, and when she finally made her way back, Camilla looked over her shoulder, quietly deciding that they were close enough to land again that the ice must be sturdier there. Gingerly, she pushed herself to her feet, just in time for Tethys to throw the coat over her.

The heavy garment offered a blessed reprieve from the wind, and Camilla sighed a shuddering breath through her blue lips. “C-Come on, let’s go back. We can share.” Wrapping her arm and the coat around Tethys’ shoulders and tucking the woman against her side, Camilla started to head back to the Academy. (Someone else can collect the damned cart later.)

It’s cold, but the coat makes it just slightly bearable. She shivers alongside Camilla as they walk in a tight pair, and while it didn’t need to be said, she’d never forgive herself for ignoring her blunder, “Thank you… for coming to my aid. I-it was reckless of me.” Talking was difficult, but it also kept her thoughts away from the cold. She definitely won’t hope for a next mishap just to make it up to Camilla, but thankfully, there were other ways… “Let me make it up to you. I know of a drink… that can heat us up immediately.”

Something sweet to get their blood flowing, and naturally, something warm. She’s sure the kitchen will supply them with what they need after seeing them freezing like this.

The road back was long and arduous, the more the wind blew, the more they shivered, the more their legs slowed, but the doors back inside the monastery soon welcomed them. The friendly gatekeeper looks horrified after seeing them, and help immediately comes to them. Warm towels and clothes were further wrapped around them until they can go back to their respective rooms for a change of clothes, a warm bath…

And when all is said and done, when their temperature has risen and the blue is gone from their skin, it’s Tethys that comes up to Camilla’s side with two mugs of hot chocolate with just a touch of chili powder and cinnamon.

Failing doesn’t mean they can’t end it on a good note. 💙

.  .  .  .  .

[ladamedepique]

🌊 This ocean is so different from the unforgiving Nohrian Sea. Icy water colder than the people frothed a sinister grey, offering little in the ways of calming the nerves. Staring out at the clear blue expanse, Leo again understands the true extent of how small his world once was. "Camilla, do you think you'd eventually return home?" Less and less frequently he finds his thoughts turned homeward. So many things left to be experienced, learned, seen...what will he miss, stuck back at the castle?

BEACH TIME

The ocean was an expanse of cool cerulean that reached out for an eternity, shifting hues that bled to first greens, then grey-browns, then no colour at all, save for the pale wisps of sea foam that rode the wave crests far up onto the shore... And stayed there. 

The water’s edge receded again, pulling away from Camilla’s ankles where she walked along the parallel, undulating ridges in the sand and distorted them with her footprints; they filled with water when she stepped away.

Cool, not frigid. Steady and predictable, no sudden rip tides or threats of storm.

No sensible person would have been so foolish as to walk this openly down the banks of Port Dia. Camilla almost laughed at the thought. Not a single soul would have thought such softness could have existed in the world...

(—not outside of Hoshido.)

But Camilla knew better. There was such gentleness and cruelty that could be found, even outside of their realm of dawn and dusk... And in the space between them, more questions.

Never answers. Camilla could chase the truths to the corners of the known universe, and she wouldn’t have come across them, not when there was still one place she hadn’t looked. Refused to look.

(But it terrified her to stand before herself and hide nothing. To see. What would she see?)

Still. There would come a day, perhaps sooner than later, when the Princess would have to stop running, no more fleeting, cautious looks over her shoulder. No more... wistful hopes that simply by putting distance between herself and the root of it all, the pieces would miraculously come together.

“I think I will, dear little brother,” she whispered back, voice like silk on the wind.

Home. Because after everything, it was still home to them both. Camilla turned with a reassuring smile, looking back at her brother as the sun began to set, casting its orange hue over the sparkling blue. He needn’t follow her. Where she needed to give into the foundations of their past, the walls of Castle Krakenburg would only hold him back... What a tragedy that would be. 

“Soon,” she amended. Reaching back, Camilla straightened the loose pieces of hair that snagged his diadem as the breeze continued to tousle his short locks. “You will remember to write home often, won’t you?”

[ladamedepique]

» i said brrr

jehannandancer​:

Curse her mediocre strength. She has enough leg strength but pulling grown women is not something she practices for her dance. Her flexibility did absolutely nothing for this task, but she pulls and pulls, with every ounce of strength that she has as the clothes she wore dripped icy cold water, and her legs threatened to give out the longer she stays out. Her soaked form felt so vulnerable to the cold breeze that passes them by.

One, two, three–!

It was mostly due to the strength of the younger woman, but Tethys managed to pull Camilla to the icy surface. Her legs gave out, and she falls prone on the ground, limbs continuously shaking as he clothes continued to drip. At the very least, the ice was sturdier and didn’t give out. A moment of safety, surely, yet it doesn’t do any of them any favors from the wretched cold.

“I’m… glad you’re safe… C-camilla…”She shivered as she breathed. Even as she wrapped her arms around her, it did nothing, fingers paler than they’ve ever been and numb to the touch. 

It’s Camilla’s voice that gives her direction once more. A coat– ah. The cart! She can’t possibly pull the other woman back inside, but she can move on her own. Make the trek back more bearable. By the shores of the pond was the cart– she can make it that far. “Leave it… to me. Hold on…”

She pushes herself up once again, com batting the trembling and the numbing of her senses. She moves and slides through the ice, stumbling here and there but she makes it back. Desperate hands cling on to fur, immediately flinging it over her lithe form. She’s still wet but the dry coat made it so much more bearable.

Another is taken, and she makes the trip back, brain unable to think. Move, move, just move! 

“Camilla, i’m here–!” She almost slips as she comes to a halt in front of Camilla, coat tossed over her as soon as she’s able to. 

The first seconds were promising; the ice held steadfast under her, but the patch that gave way was still too close behind her for comfort. Camilla didn’t trust it to bear both their weights if they moved too quickly (not that either of them could make any sudden movements now anyway). Shuffling on hands and knees along would be safer, crossing the glimmering surface behind Tethys’ purposeful strides. If she fell through again... She couldn’t chance it.

Each time she put her weight down, the cold stung at her palms and knees through the soaked leather and cloth—but the pain wasn’t unwelcome. It meant that she wasn’t going to succumb to the cold, not yet... There was still feeling remaining. Returning. 

“Careful, Tethys—!”

She didn’t fall, and when she finally made her way back, Camilla looked over her shoulder, quietly deciding that they were close enough to land again that the ice must be sturdier there. Gingerly, she pushed herself to her feet, just in time for Tethys to throw the coat over her.

The heavy garment offered a blessed reprieve from the wind, and Camilla sighed a shuddering breath through her blue lips. “C-Come on, let’s go back. We can share.” Wrapping her arm and the coat around Tethys’ shoulders and tucking the woman against her side, Camilla started to head back to the Academy. (Someone else can collect the damned cart later.)

[ladamedepique]

(🎆 to put on a fireworks display with my muse) "Lady Camilla!" A crackling pop alerts the Nohrian retainer and immediately Beruka places herself between her former liege and the strange lighted contraption. "Please step back. This..." Eyes narrow at the lit stick, ready to jump on top of it should it try anything strange. "It looks dangerous."

BEACH TIME

Sparks flew from the wick, slowly burning towards the paper cylinder that was half-buried in the sand at an incline. It looked nothing like the thin steel of the sparkler and its grey shell, bursting into a shower of glimmering lights... But Camilla could still smell the alchemic fumes that came off of the smoke.

“Oh? How cute, Beruka...” Camilla chuckled into her gloved hand before it came down, fingers resting on the shorter woman’s shoulder to pull her back as well. “Not even my retainer anymore, and still trying to look out for me, are you? Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?”

It was suspicious how all these... (Flares? They certainly reminded her of the coloured lights would be set off in emergencies, when magic was no longer viable.) ... explosives wound up on the shore. Lit. Waiting to be witnessed.

“Well, we’re both here now, so we might as well sit back and enjoy the show.”

Right on cue, the fuse burnt out on the first of the fireworks laid out in front of them, sending the tube rocketing off in a spray of gold and silver. A loud pop sounded as it reached the height of its trajectory, and it seemed to disappear for a second, then burst into brilliant reds and purples.

“It’s chilling, don’t you think?” She commented again from where she sat in the sand, not entirely expecting a response form the probably-ex-assassin beside her. “How some dangerous things can still be beautiful from afar.”

[ladamedepique]

STRENGTH UPRIGHT. — ♡

vermilique​:

          some are said to have died. some are said to…

                                                                                                    to have…

          fair brows pinch, gaze falling to some corner of the room that spanned beyond its walls. why do those words strike so, when lady camilla says them? she hasn’t been privy to the same whispers, those particular rumors — among the few she’s overheard — skipping her ears. but it fills her with a black, growing disquiet, a drop of ink in still water that metastasizes. or perhaps not ink, rather, but… what else? black, and… viscous… why does she have the impression that it’s not blood, but should be?

          svelte tones of a curling query pull her out of her thoughts again, and she blinks, following the trajectory of the princess’ look before realizing where it falls and starting slightly, blushing with an embarrassed cross of arms over her chest. she hasn’t succumbed to the ease of beachwear like many others here, still dressed in something — if not as standard as her usual attire, then still modest, if comfortable. ( they weren’t sent here for relaxation. or were they? the notion of confinement is a hard one to dislodge. ) but something about lady camilla being the one to stare, even only idly, is…

          well, a bit like an eagle looking on a plain and flightless grouse.

          as if to banish her own diffidence, she clears her throat, and the sound of laughter helps, the suggestion, even half joking, stirring her reverie again. gods, slipping their presence into her life? the lives around her? even after the strange and fantastical end of the last war, it’s hard to believe. if not for what they’d seen in the old realm of valla, she’s not sure she would believe it at all. then the question becomes why?

          and no one has the answer to that. she doubts anyone ever would.

          ❝ in the stories, scars are sometimes said to be symbols, ❞ she replies, still looking absently off to the side, musing aloud. ❝ lessons to be carried by warriors for the rest of their lives. but that doesn’t make any sense if none of us can remember. there’s no point. ❞ contemplation guides her attention back to the scar. and, like a returning heartbeat, the echo of earlier pulses again. some here are said to have died.

          lips purse, and she decides to drop rumination for the present for now, arms falling to her sides. ❝ i know it would bother me if i had a scar and no idea where it came from. hm… have you felt anything here at all, lady camilla? like the dragon veins back home. if this is the work of gods, then maybe… ❞

For all the solid ground under their feet now, they are all adrift here, grasping onto anything that seemed to have the stability to weather the tide...

“It is a story without a beginning or a middle, only the end,” Camilla replied then, her eyes falling from Caeldori to her own hands. Finger by finger, she pulled the leather loose, first from one hand, then another. The calluses were familiar, as were the blunted nail, pitted where old injuries and training accidents caused the growth to buckle temporarily, and the pale scars across her knuckles. She remembered how all of those came about.

“Not as exciting as if we had the whole thing, but a scar is a scar...” She laughed. The sound felt metallic, the quality of steel blades locking in battle. Sparks trailed from vocal cords, sharp and bright. “Something wanted me dead; I think it’s pretty safe to say I didn’t let that happen--though I have to say... I get the feeling that it almost happened.”

The chuckle that followed was warmer, and Camilla stood to her full height then, rolling her shoulders back—scar pulling uncomfortable as she did—as she looked over at the head of brilliant red again. “To think, I might have had a more interesting story for you than this, dear. What a shame.”

“But no.” She folded her clothing carefully, tucking smaller pieces in the dark folds of her skirts as not to lose them when she came back for them at the end of the day. “I don’t think I felt much in the land even back at the Academy, but this place feels... Normal. Normal enough not to draw attention, but so normal that you can be sure it definitely isn’t.”

“Whoever... Whatever is behind this isn’t like the gods back home,” Camilla concluded with a hum. And a smile. “But if someone else’s god is going to foot the bill for us to treat ourselves, I say let them, hmm? With a scar like this, I’d say I’ve earned a bit of pampering. Care to join me, Caeldori?”

[ladamedepique]

» black to black

forlornwyvernrider​:

“Less of a rebel, and more of a tease…” He supposes he should be glad. This was his wish after all. To give Minerva company that isn’t just his own– no matter how quirky they may be.

He lets out a long exhale. Let it go. “I suppose there’s a charm to flexibility.” Cries meant to grab his attention let out, her form still much like a knot. Again, he sighs, but this time he simply puts a hand on her scale. If you insist…

He turns to the other wyvern rider, a flat line still drawn on his face, but he doesn’t blame her this time.

“…Gerome.” He’s not familiar with Nohr but he swears he’d heard of it before. He decides not to think too much into it. He doesn’t consider the Valm or Ylisse of this time as his true home, but if there is one, it’d have to be: “Of Wyvern Valley.”

“We’ve been out of touch from other wyverns for some time. Most that we’ve encountered are guarded and used to a life of hiding. They’re usually not this… carefree.” He looks over at Pandora, and then back to Minerva. Sometimes he forgets his own wishes for her. “Let not my behavior deter any friendship between them. I… apologize.”

“Well, be it rebelling or teasing, Minerva will surely come into her own. Nothing to have kittens over, I’d say, hmm?” Camilla winked. It was hard to say whether the gesture was for Gerome or something conspiratorial for Minerva. Nevertheless, Pandora chimed in with her own chirp in agreement.

(Though she might have done so regardless of what Camilla had said.)

“Gerome of Wyvern Valley.” It wasn’t a bad name, but someone wasn’t particularly creative when they named the valley, apparently. Camilla supposed she couldn’t judge. Not when such captivating monikers as ‘Northern Fortress’.

Left nothing to the imagination, really.

“Sounds like you two have a story, Gerome of Wyvern Valley,” she commented then as she undid the latch of the stall gate again to let herself out. Wrapped up on the stable sheet, Pandora seemed content to lay down again, making herself comfortable and re-arranging the bits of straw and bedding as she would. “All the more reason to try and unwind here as much as possible, hmm? I’m sure Minerva could find it in herself to forgive you this time.”

Deft hands brushed the dust and loose straw from her skirts, then Camilla turned back to leave the stables. “I’ll leave you to play nice with the two of them then. Until next time!” Whenever that was.

.  .  .  .  .

[ladamedepique]

» i said brrr

jehannandancer​:

The cold shock that came from the plunge has gone and passed, but not for the better. Her body rapidly lost heat and despite the short moment that passed, she was quickly losing herself. 

She felt herself get pushed up, just enough for the cold to lessen, only to be greeted by cold winds. She rises from the waters, that first gasp of air too rapid. Her heart felt like it was about to explode, pounding so loudly she could almost hear it. Camilla’s voice keep her focused despite the dwindling consciousness and strength. 

Go.

She kicks, her arms desperately reaching for the ice that was still intact. Kick, kick, breathe, breathe, reach… She was a mess as she scrambled to push herself up the ice. With a boost from Camilla and more desperate kicks, she mustered up what little strength she had to pull herself out of the frigid waters, another big gasp let out the moment her torso escaped the waters and she rolls over the ice. 

She was breathing more than she needed to and the shivering only continued– but she didn’t have the luxury to relax just yet. She turns to Camilla who was still in the waters and with trembling pale hands and through ragged breathing, she reached for her, with every intent to pull her up before the ice beneath her cracks. 

The stabbing, white-hot pain of the icy depths had started to ebb and fade, and the growing numbness had been more concerning than anything else. Desperately, Camilla scrabbles at the ice, the wet leather of her gloves trying to find purchase on the pond’s surface, anything to pull herself up. Water dripped off of her though, and the combination of the two made the task seem nigh impossible.

How absurd, Camilla thought as she began to slip back, the edge of the ice scraping against her abdomen as her weight slowly pulled her back into the water. After everything, she would succumb so far from home? On academy grounds, no less? Anticlimactic didn’t even begin to describe--

Hand grabbed hers, and if she could muster more awareness, Camilla might have even startled. ‘Tethys,’ a part of her mind supplied, ‘She made it.’ 

One last push to match her pull.

Her water-logged clothes felt like pulling a thousand pounds out of the water, like something was holding her back and reluctant to let go. Camilla braced her other hand against the ice and pushed, and with a great lurch, felt herself sprawl onto the ice again, pale cheek pressed against the frigid surface. For a second, there was nothing.... Then the biting cold returned. She could have laughed. 

“Don’t—” It was so hard to speak around her teeth chattering. But it meant they were going to be ok. “—don’t stop moving. My... My coat. On the cart.”

It would be dry. They had to make their way back to the monastery proper.

[ladamedepique]

Now, there's a gorgeous lady if he's ever seen one. She looks vaguely familiar; perhaps a faculty member? Explains why he's never actually asked her out for tea, though perhaps it's time to remedy that. Right after this balloon is tossed, of course. Inigo allows a moment of regret for starting off this relationship in the midst of a war. Some things just can't be helped. An underhanded toss sends the missile flying towards Camilla. "Sorry, my lady, but this is a battle, after all!"

Here’s Waterwall!

The sun rolled high, and shadows darted across the beach with ever over-head gull and tern that ducked and weaved through the clouds and skimmed along the waters. Camilla paused for a moment to catch her breath and enjoy the feeling of the sun on her skin, glistening with salt water and the watery onslaught of her classmates. When else would they enjoy revelry such as this?

When she turned though, there was one shadow that seemed out of place, and looking up, Camilla saw the bright green balloon, coming down from its parabolic arc, and —

> Roll: [10] Splash damage!

—the Princess dodged, but not quick enough to escape it entirely. The balloon was a hefty thing, and as it hit the sand at her feet, the thin rubber ruptures and water splashes up against her legs with bits of sand and pieces of green.

Lavender locks toss over her shoulder as she turned sharply, looking back where the water balloon must have come from and... In the distance, was that...

“Laslow?” She shouted across the beach with a huff. “Laslow, I’m going to throw you into the ocean with my own two hands!”

[ladamedepique]

Celica turns over the strange weapon in her hands. There had been a pile of them on the beach, alongside water filled balloons, and the queen picked it simply because it looked effective. However, she did not take into account the fact that she had absolutely no idea how to USE it. Lips purse together as she weighs it in her hands, index finger pressing down on some strange switch... that triggers the ejection of a stream of water, headed Camilla's way.

Here’s Waterwall!

When she stood again, water balloons in hand, it was to the sight of the toy weapon fixed at her and Celica’s hands wrapped around the grip of it. “Oh.”

(Pull the trigger, Celica.)

> Roll: [5] ! Not today!

The stream of water missed her by inches, droplets landing on her shoulder and darts to one side, feet sliding in the hot sand as Camilla successfully evades the ambush. “You’ll have to be faster than that, Princess!” And with a wink, Camilla was off again.

[xkanjou]

⊱ familiar faces

ladamedepique​:

Beruka was hired on as an assassin… and definitely not as an operative for Nohr’s extensive intelligence networks. For all her stony expression, masking her intentions with words hadn’t struck Camilla as her forte, though she supposed she could be wrong—the closeness she had been afforded over the years had given them both enough time to study one another, and their line of work had them reaching for their axes before dialogue.

Perhaps once there was a time when she would have chided the girl, that ‘my darling retainers should have no reason or gall to hide the truth from me’… But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? Much had changed since those days; Beruka was no longer her retainer, and she wasn’t the Princess along whose side she had fought. For all the nostalgia that hung between them, the new-found gaps could not be ignored.

Though that did not mean they could not be bridged either.

“And I am delighted to see you here as well, Beruka…” Words were an inelegant thing in their hands. Camilla merely smiled, the fall of her bangs casting shadows across half of her face with the light of the heart. She looked at her hands, neatly folded in her lap, then back at Beruka. Gloved hands reached for the embroidery loom again. “But there would be another time for words, hmm? Sit with me a while longer, dear. I don’t think either sleep or conversation will come easily tonight… But I could still do with your company.”

Her gaze is downcast though she isn’t quite sure why. It felt as if she had done dishonour to the princess by being unable to speak as she should; a small pain weighing on her consciousness even though she knew the woman before her would not press her for more information. She wasn’t sure how to describe what she was feeling and simply pressed the palms of her hands into her thighs. 

If she hadn’t been forced to kill her emotions all those years ago, would she have been able to tell her everything now?

Beruka glances up, catching the movement of gloved hands as they reached to continue the embroidery. The flame in the hearth flickers gently, crackling as bits of burnt wood split and break off. She takes in Lady Camilla’s words, listening intently until she reaches her final statement.

Company…

“…Yes. I’d be glad to.”

Perhaps in the future, there’ll be a time when she can tell her former liege everything she’s been through, everything she’s seen - everything she’s wanted. But for now she allows silence to take over, broken only by the small clicks of needles and crackling flames. An unconscious smile tugs at the corner of her lips and she closes her eyes. 

.

                                                                      —END ⊱

[ladamedepique]

STRENGTH UPRIGHT. — ♡

vermilique​:

          she doesn’t remember getting it. caeldori doesn’t remember where she had been before this, only the sensation of crossing the sea… and crossing the sea, endlessly. this world doesn’t remember its own conception. and here they all fit into it, sprinkled in like scattered fragments from everywhere, like thousand shards of sea glass washed up on the surf and trying to piece themselves into a mural. she looks off to the side, as if hoping to see the sparkling waves again and probe them for the hundredth time for answers, but they’re in a small changing area, and there are no answers to be found. absently, a hand drifts up, fingertips resting against her abdomen, and she looks back to the jagged scar tissue; it’s rude to stare, but she can’t help but feel like… something…

          there should be something…

          a matching twin, maybe? as if the clues missing on her own body had been mapped onto lady camilla’s instead in a pattern of transitive hieroglyphs, no more explicable than simply this — the vestige of something wrong drawn on a thick dotted line. ❝ it’s odd, but… to tell the truth, i’ve been thinking that ever since we arrived. ❞ whenever that was. how many days have passed here now? ❝ do you get the feeling you’re forgetting something, lady camilla? ❞ maybe that’s an obvious question now, since she’d just admitted as much. but there’s more to it. there’s— ❝ or, maybe it’s more accurate to say… like something’s been washed over? now it’s my turn to sound odd. ❞

          she can’t help that her thoughts keep returning to the rising tide and how it covers over sand, grasses, swallows feet and inches of the world under glossy water. so what happens if the tide never retreats? she feels like a girl again, asking her father impossible questions. what if high tide stays forever? surely, he would laugh off her curiosity if he were here.

                     ❝ now that i think about it, i feel as though you were there. ❞                                                                    there? where is ‘ there ’?

          she frowns and shakes her head, waterfall of carmine jostling to frame her face as she pushes back what she’s sure has to be implausible — threads of a fairy tale strung together by a vain hope to make some sense out of the persistent malaise. ❝ never mind. i keep getting these strange pains, especially around my chest. like i’ve been run through by something. but i’ve talked to healers, and there’s nothing, not even internal damage. i’d wondered if that had something to do with it. ❞

“Forgetting something?” There was recognition in the absence of recognition, and Camilla glanced back down at the jagged edges where scar tissue met unbroken skin, that messy interface where there had once been a rift. Haphazard. “Hmm. That sounds like it only scratches the surface, doesn’t it, dear? They are just whispers, but some here are said to have died. And that...”

Camilla chuckled, the sound clipped and breathy. Something told her she was very nearly among their numbers.

When she least expected it, fragments could come floating back to the surface. In the quiet edges of her dreams, Camilla hear the braying of a stag... She could practically see the steam coming from it nares in the early morning fog—could nearly see the writhing flesh that slithered and crawled like slick, black tendrils where the beast’s hide should have been. And in her hand was a knife that had not been hers... (But had it truly been her hand? Did it matter?)

The beast always charged, and they would both be swept away by a sudden tide, and Camilla would wake up, staring at the ceiling of her temporary lodging.

“You haven’t the marks to show for it, though?” Mild surprise laced her question, and perhaps explained the sudden turning of the Princess’ gaze to her chest with curiosity. There was one thing the beach-side sun had going for it; the bold brandished enough skin to show off new scars... Or lack there of. And there seemed to be little rhyme or reason as to who was left with what. “I wonder why this one stuck around then...”

A thought struck her, and the laugh was far more genuine that time. “Do you think it was too much for even... whatever power healed us? Brought people back from the dead, and it couldn’t fix a flesh wound...”

[ladamedepique]

⊱ familiar faces

xkanjou​:

“I…”

She falls silent, her tongue caught in her throat as she struggles to find the words to say. Expressing herself through speech had never been the assassin’s strong point and it wasn’t a skill she had improved on since departing the Nohrian capital. 

“I’m fine, Lady Camilla.”

A blatant lie she knew and was aware the princess would recognize as well; but at the moment her mind was too muddied to be able to form any coherent thought. Rather than embarrass herself further she preferred to fib. If Lady Camilla was anything like the one she used to know she would understand the reason behind her action.

Lilac catches sight of the smile on the royal’s visage and a warmth in her chest finds its place in the deep reaches of her heart. How many years had it been since she had seen the Lady smile as she did now? Though it was not one of the princess’s warmer gestures the act felt nostalgic all the same. She couldn’t recall the last time she had seen the princess so relaxed—in a sane state of mind. It was relieving to know she had been able to return to her former self after all the years apart.

“I’m glad to see you have been doing well, Lady Camilla.”

Truth be told the retainer had many questions she wished to ask the princess but decided to hold off on them for a later time. Not wanting to turn their first—albeit failed—interaction into an interrogation of sorts, Beruka decided it would be best to wait until a later date and suffice simply with greetings between former… acquaintances.

Beruka was hired on as an assassin... and definitely not as an operative for Nohr’s extensive intelligence networks. For all her stony expression, masking her intentions with words hadn’t struck Camilla as her forte, though she supposed she could be wrong—the closeness she had been afforded over the years had given them both enough time to study one another, and their line of work had them reaching for their axes before dialogue.

Perhaps once there was a time when she would have chided the girl, that ‘my darling retainers should have no reason or gall to hide the truth from me’... But that was just the thing, wasn’t it? Much had changed since those days; Beruka was no longer her retainer, and she wasn’t the Princess along whose side she had fought. For all the nostalgia that hung between them, the new-found gaps could not be ignored.

Though that did not mean they could not be bridged either.

“And I am delighted to see you here as well, Beruka...” Words were an inelegant thing in their hands. Camilla merely smiled, the fall of her bangs casting shadows across half of her face with the light of the heart. She looked at her hands, neatly folded in her lap, then back at Beruka. Gloved hands reached for the embroidery loom again. “But there would be another time for words, hmm? Sit with me a while longer, dear. I don’t think either sleep or conversation will come easily tonight... But I could still do with your company.”

[minorindech]

(A kiss?) "Well, well... Aren't you just a darling little thing, though?" Almost too cute for such a rowdy game. Camilla supposed that had never stopped the more adventurous of their cohort from partaking. With a giggle, she leaned into the booth, planting a kiss of her own onto the crown of the girl's own purple tresses. "There."

Bernadetta’s still riding the high of proving Linhardt wrong for once that she doesn’t notice the next person until she’s practically standing right in front of her. The realization makes Bernie jump and curse herself quietly, because of course she would let one thing going right distract her so much oh goddess Bernie you can be such a stupid fool.

“H-hello, I, um...”

Oh...Oh wow she’s tall. 

Bernie is very certain that she’s gawking at the woman in front of her, but can she really be blamed for that? She’s tall and pretty and Bernie is doing her best to respectfully avoid the obvious right in front of her and she’s kind of intimidating in a way that reminds her of Lady Edelgard and she isn’t really doing anything beyond standing there but Bernadetta knows deep in her soul that this woman could probably destroy her with her pinkie and there’s a weird kind of terrifying respect to that.

Bernie practically shrieks when she leans down and kisses the top of her head, so caught off guard by the action. She splutters, hands flying up to cover her head as she tries to string a thought together.

“I...you...that isn’t...I mean you can but you’re not...I’m supposed to!” Bernie lets out a strangled wail buries her face in her hoodie. She was red again, she knew it... “I’m supposed to be the one kissing you.” She whines into the fabric.

She’s managed to recover herself just a bit when she finally pulls her face back out, pouting slightly as she gestures nervously at her classmate. “Um. Could you just...lean down a little, please?”

[ladamedepique]

Oh. She was very red indeed, and much too quickly for that to have been a sunburn. Camilla tried to hide the chuckle, but her lips pulled into a smile that threatened to peek from behind her hand. “It is a kissing booth, is it not? I dare say a kiss was given.” Darling. Perhaps she wouldn’t even leave her in such a frazzled state; the booth could be quite warm by the peak of the afternoon.

“But I suppose it would be perfectly reasonable for you to give one in exchange, hmm?” Bidden, Camilla leaned into the booth, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she brought herself closer to Bernie’s height. “Better?”

[venalier]

STRENGTH UPRIGHT. — ♡

@ladamedepique

cont. from here.

          something dull and gnarled turns itself inside her when she looks at the nohrian princess, like a sleeping shard that’d stayed lodged somewhere deep for years, overlooked and quiet, until some external force shifted it and only then did it press and cut like glass. it’s a shard she’s familiar with, carried usually in the eyes of others, in the distance between herself and those who always say they admire her, in the gulf chiseled out by human hands that stays behind in the wake of another someone. she doesn’t like to admit to it, not within herself. ( a fragmented reminder that she is not so perfect after all, has never been, will never be; and maybe if she others anyone could see it— )

          ❝ huh? ❞ ————— amethysts hold her, rich like maroon gemstones.                                              she shifts uncomfortably. ❝ oh, sure. ❞

          princess camilla isn’t really like most people she met during the war. there’s something unsettling about her, but she’s never been able to put her finger on it, either. mother always told her not to worry about it ( in her more honest moments, even once said lady camilla really was kind, more than most people she’d ever met ), but as footsteps cross the dressing room and bring her close, she can’t shake the impending feeling of walking into a set of fangs.

          in a way, she has to just be impressed.

          full lavender tresses lift out of the way, and she pulls the ends of the swimsuit close together; they cinch over an ample bust, wide frame, fearlessly thick skin. everything about lady camilla is strong, it strikes her as she does up the fastenings, double-checking to make sure they’ll hold. she can’t imagine what kind of force it would take to knock her over, if anything at all. ❝ there, that should do it. ❞ hands release, and she steps back, gaze then shifting to the jagged line of a mending scar, the edge of which is just barely visible from behind, that threads over and up the other woman’s side. thin lips purse in a frown at the sight of it, fighting the answering pang of a ghostly pain that jabs, a dozen spear points pushing into her chest, cracking ribs like no more than slender twigs. but she’s looked before already — and there’s nothing there.

          ❝ … that looks like a pretty bad injury, ❞ she ventures, unsure why it fills her with such curiosity. it’s not like she’s never seen a battle scar before, even a severe one. ❝ is it recent? ❞

[ladamedepique]

Eyes shone in the sunlight that filtered through, watching the skirt cut the distance between them with a sense of... Unease? Surely it wasn’t their state of undress; skin and flesh and scars were no stranger to either of them, especially not after the wars—for a second Camilla halted in her thoughts, wondering when their shared combat had become plural—so it must have been something else. Was it something about her then?

How utterly... delightful.

Excuses ran briefly through her head as careful hands brushed the fall of her locks aside and set to fastening the back of her swim suit shut, the dark fabric stretching across a pale expanse of skin that normally would have been covered. ‘The suit is new, and I don’t have the clasps mapped out in my head yet.’ No. ‘I couldn’t quite hold my hair out of the way and reach.’ More truthful.

(Perhaps she could have, but the wound, though closed, was still a tender thing that pulled with a twinge whenever the skin went taut, making its presence known... Unmistakable.)

“There, that should do it.”

The Princess gave her thanks, pulling her loose hair back and over her back with a small shake of her head; the tresses fell neatly back into place. She had faith in Caeldori’s handiwork... And the girl’s eyes linger again. The quip had been on her lips until Camilla traced the line of sight back to the scar, and the question confirmed it.

“Oh this?” Camilla touched a still-gloved hand to one of the raised edges of the uneven tissue... She wished she had an answer. The smile flattened into a thin, thoughtful line, lips pursed with the same curiosity. “I don’t know, dear. I can only assume so, if it is still healing...”

“I know it sounds odd, but I really don’t remember getting it... Just this...” She stopped to think. Just this... This. Strange sense of foreboding. “... Feeling that something terrible happened. Isn’t that odd?”

[ladamedepique]

» i said brrr

jehannandancer​:

The desert flower shrivels in the icy depths.

She knew how to swim, and the pond was not too deep to be a big threat, yet her resistance to the cold betrays her, limbs failing to function as they should. She extends her arms upward, desperate to find solid ground to cling to, all while her legs kick and struggle against the freezing waters despite wanting to just curl up.

How pathetic was she to want to help, only to find herself in a similar– if not even more so – helpless situation…

She sweeps away bits and pieces of broken ice, eyes closed shut out sheer fear if she opens them, her eyes would freeze up quickly. Swim. She knows how to swim. If she kicks her legs enough, she can find her way back to the surface and –

“Bleaurgh–!!” The water felt like daggers as she swallowed it, her startled scream making her take in too much of the freezing pond water. She was startled when her hands grabbed on to strands of hair, eyes opening quickly only to see a familiar face right in front of her. Lady Camilla!

The enveloping chill itself sapped the strength from her limbs, and every stride felt like pushing through a frigid burst anew. Cold water flowing past her her face and her throat clawed at the base instinct to scream--to gasp for air that wasn’t there--as the blood pounded in her ears and shadows slowly crept in from the edges of her vision.

Her limbs were heavy... And the danger was no longer the sharp pain of ice water swirling around her, but the possibility that Camilla may lose that very sensation all together. Through the numbness, she felt, briefly, the solid form of Tethys in her arms. Her grip was awkward, but in the moment, it was all she needed to plant her feet firmly against the silt of the bottom of the pond and...

...push.

The clarity was sudden. Abrupt. Their heads broke the surface of the water for but a moment, Camilla gasped for air, before the same gravity that pulled them through the ice in the first place yet threatened them again. It was getting harder to move her legs, and who knew how much more of the ice had been compromised? “G-go—Tethys—reach—!” She scrabbled at the edge of the ice, no feeling in her fingers except the sensation of pressure as she heaved, trying to push Tethys over the edge with her other arm.