it's the lioness that hunts

lachesis of nordion, golden deer professor || closed fire emblem roleplay blog affiliated with the officers academy

[bigbadbaltie]

who up pondering their orb

[Any +1] w/ @classybrawler, @landsbluod, & @radiantlodestar

[classybrawler]

Panette feels she ought to receive accolades and awards for not throttling the meathead who touched the orb the moment she got her bearings. How stupid, how bullheaded, how-

Deep breath. She shall remain the epitome of calm. She shan't cause any scenes today.

Which might be easier to do than expected. As much as being transported somewhere unfamiliar is... nicer words fail her, it is infuriating.

But as infuriating as it may be, it is quite a pleasant place they have found themselves in. A lovely seaside location, refreshing breeze, the orb even gave her an outfit for the occasion! A lovely black one-piece swimming costume with frills just as colourful and jagged as the edges of her usual dress, snazzy shades like the ones Pinet had back at the Somniel, and a lovely lace parasol to boot!

Briefly, she considers testing how efficient of a weapon the parasol would make, but surely there shall be no need for that.

Something she finds herself certain of as the smell of meat and sound of revelry hits her ears; why, it is not a mere seaside location they find themselves in, it feels almost like Solm itself! She can picture herself alongside the Boss and Merrin now, dancing all their worries away around the campfire.

How's she supposed to stay mad at the big lug now?

She gives the others a smile, most excited now to make the most of the time they've been granted here.

"I am Panette, a sentinel of Solm. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, everyone." She bows, before locking her gaze with the big guy's, a grin forming on her face.

"I ought to warn you; I am not one to lose a game of chicken, if we are to play seriously." At the very least, not to a guy like him. Losing to the lady Lachesis (who had the common courtesy to introduce herself, unlike the others) would be tolerable.

She considers lifting up the blue haired man on her shoulders instead of doing the inverse; show her competition who they are dealing with. Still, he seems averse to joining in on the game, so she shall not cause unnecessary friction. She could totally lift him though.

[bigbadbaltie]

For a split second, Balthus sees every moment of his life flash before his eyes. The scuffles he had between himself and Holst as a snot-nosed little kid, the miles and miles he'd run from home, and the bars he'd flitted in and out of to avoid the people that wanted his head.... and the reason? It's the look Lachesis gives him that sends a chill down his spine. Before he can open his mouth to respond and throw his hands up in a swift surrender, though, it seems her attention has pivoted. Never once has he heaved such a sigh of relief, running the back of his hand over his forehead to wipe sweat away that had begun to bead there. A beach is a place to party, to have fun! Not to have your grave dug and your body put six feet under! Sure 'nuff, there's music in the background. Both the gals with him seem satisfied enough with their arrival, and he smacks his fist into an open palm before letting out a loud bark of laughter. "Now THIS is what I'm talkin' about! Smell that?" Balthus takes a long, dramatic inhale through his nose before letting out an 'ahhh', his eyes falling closed. "That smells like some DAMN good barbecue! Ohhhh, man...." "I'll take you all on! But first? Big man here-" He points to himself, of course. "- Needs a bite. Games are fun, but only if you aren't starvin'." That's the only encouragement he needs (for himself) to start marching through the sand, whistling a tune that nobody knows, not even himself. "Hey, scrawny guy! You could use some protein, too. C'mon." A finger is pointed in Marth's direction, one of Balthus's dark brows cocked. "Sounds like the music's coming from further down the beach. Maybe even towards the bushes...?" @classybrawler @radiantlodestar @landsbluod

[landsbluod]

How typical it was that one so single minded could only continue to be so, and that the nearest thing that dragged his fancy would supercede the prior desire. The smell of barbecued meat, the char of sizzling and crackling flesh and the sizzle and spit of hot juices, wafted through the air carried by the gentle island breeze, but far from smelling merely barbaric, there was along with it the cut of something sweet, creamy and fruity.

Lachesis’ gaze alighted on the table of treats as they made their way along the sand of the beach, soft and white underfoot, to take them to the breathtaking expanse of every blue imaginable - sun and sky became one, recursive reflections of one another, crashing waves and fluffy clouds, and along one side, as though a perimeter, was a table laden with such a weight of indulgence.

“Drinks, as well?” she said curiously, drifting fingers over the curve of a glass, plucking on from the table and handing it to Panette before taking a sip of her own.

“What, I wonder, could be the meaning of this festival? Hhgn…” Gently, her head throbbed, visions of cobblestones and a stately academic institution in the dead of winter flickering through her mind, before she cocked her head, and turned to gaze out to the surf.

“If you need to take your fill, gentlemen, before losing your pride to competition, then by all means. Panette, when they are quite ready, shall we take them down together?”

Next! @radiantlodestar or @classybrawler

[landsbluod]

seeds for a garden you'll never see

[verseandrhyme]

"The leaves are usually the first indicator that something may be wrong." Careful fingers take the plant from the older woman, making an effort not to allow too much dirt to fall upon either of them. "If it is possible to keep it exposed to sunlight and watered while traveling, that should allow it to last longer…though then the wind becomes a threat too…"

So complicated, not unlike the humans she normally tends to. Her inspection is interrupted by a question she had not anticipated at all, and her head raises with a curious hum. "A third?"

Mitama follows Lachesis's gaze to the shadow in the sky. She is more accustomed to seeing them at night, but the shape is the same, as is the shiver down her spine. "Ah…no, we are not."

She returns the plant to its hiding place. "It may be advisable to go. Now."

[landsbluod]

“Indeed.”

Lachesis clicked her tongue and wheeled her horse in a thoughtful circle, taking stock of the young lady before her eyes flickered back to the approaching shape.

“Take the plant into your care for the moment - you will travel more swiftly than I. Go now - outpace it if you can,” she said, her horse’s hooves pawing at the stone path. “I will draw its attention away as best I can, to buy you the time you need to lose it. We can rendezvous at the next town border.”

The thought of it dragged a shiver along her skin - to see the open maw of one of those beasts descending from the heavens, its rider baring their own cruel arms to take as much advantage over the ground as possible.

“Go now!” she repeated, and did not wait before darting along the adjacent path.

[landsbluod]

still the night, kill the lights, feel it under your skin

[oflowersandlight]

“Isn’t that right?” She’s seen firsthand the sorts of people children become when they aren’t offered proper guidance. Individualistic, self-concerned, thoughtless towards how they fit into the grander scheme of things. Guided majorly by their own interests and curiosities. Those were the ones that were the most difficult to wrangle. Often, they were lost causes by the time she made it to them.

Once an apple has gone rotten, there were no solution but to remove it from the bunch.

Which meant that places like these, where those who would go on to create their worlds in the future would go to learn what kinds of worlds they ought make were paramount, as was ensuring they were operated as they should be. “This may well be one of the most important places in the world," Poe says, without a hint of hesitation.

The music carries on, but at this point it hardly registers beyond the feeling of its rhythm keeping her pace in line with her lead's—second nature. Poe enjoys a dance, but she enjoys a talk all the more. And besides that, something else comes to mind:

"Perhaps you ought to think about teaching, then," She suggests. "Have you? I suspect you would be good at it."

[landsbluod]

What a fine thing that Poe could not see her face upon hearing such a compliment. Between women, it was an easy thing to dole out a compliment, and it was easier to mean them - but she had spent the majority of her life around men, and among those bristling and pompous and self-important men as the lords of Agustria, those self-styled kings who had looked at her and seen nothing more than a pretty bastard capable of elevating the legitimacy of their own houses, to place divine Mystletainn into the hands of children of their blood.

She did not feel the rise of bile in her throat at such a comment, not from Poe, but the rise of heat along her neck, and Lachesis arched a brow delicately that, too, could not be seen.

“Do you believe so?” The question applied towards all of Poe’s statements, which Lachesis knew the answer to be yes. From the interactions that she’d had with the woman, she did not present herself to be the sort who levied her personal opinion behind niceties if it did not also apply.

The rush of the dance continued, the harmony of the music enveloping their steps, and for a moment Lachesis thought that she felt the strings and her steps and her heartbeat synchronize.

Her lips curled upwards, a smile of true pleasure, and she released a bright laugh, the sound of a bell to chime above the winddown of the opus.

“You do me such flattery to make me believe that the most important place in the world might have need of someone like me to guide them.” She did not need to mention that she was as qualified, if not moreso, than many of the professors in employ: how many could claim the title of Master Knight, in spite of poor blood?

Humility was well and good for those who needed it, but Lachesis was a lion of Nordion, and she lifted Poe’s hand briefly to her lips to convey her thanks.

“You speak so true, perhaps I might believe it. That would certainly guide things more directly, wouldn’t it?”

[landsbluod]

too many swords. i wish i could give it zero stars

[aurelianwolf]

There is no definitive certainty to what compels Wolf to follow rumor; only that something vague, yet urgent, calls out to him. It roils in his gut and makes restless his legs on a quiet night, the floorboard creaking beneath a bouncing foot that had been caught by an idea and could no longer leave it be.

A bowman self-estranged from all that he loves has no personal need of heirlooms, but he had not expected to find anyone from Archanea on such distant soil. Yet here he had found Kris, with whom he shares a homeland, albeit only in the broadest sense, and who is worthy of respect, besides. How ironic that such a respect emboldens him to be so shameless, but...

...it's just -- he ought to leave something behind.

But what an annoying rumor it turns out to be. Yes, yes, secret shops and their access cards, he's well aware by now, but he can't be faulted for raising a brow at a stipulation so... asinine. Seriously, couples? He'd thought they were black market weapons vendors, not some noble house's pet chocolatiers. He'd thought that by tracking it down, he might at least find some other way inside, but in the belly of a brick alleyway all he finds is... the woman from the Ethereal Ball? And some sleazy git.

"Knock it off," Wolf interrupts, grabbing the man's wrist and tossing it away from her. A glance to his palm afterward, and he wipes it off on his pants before he continues. Gross bastard. Pointedly ignoring his simmering scowl, vivid eyes land upon his unfortunate dance partner instead.

Had she come looking for the secret shop too? It seems entirely possible, assuming this weird creature was the doorman. Then again, if he was poking someone's neck like that, maybe he was just a creep.

"...Hm." Raising his chin slightly, the bowman attempts to lighten the furrow of his brow. It doesn't need to look affectionate -- at least, not until he knows whether they're on the same page, but hopefully not after, either -- as long as it's less... well, Wolf, than it was looking at the other man. He tests the waters:

"Guess you found it first."

[landsbluod]

It was rather lucky, then, that this unfortunate smear of scum had found his savior in an unlikely form. Lachesis’ eyes narrowed dangerously, the threat of a beast far greater about to lash out with full maw, and this supposed sentinel would have found himself missing those offending fingers if he had been allowed to reach even a millimeter further.

Rigid with fury, Lachesis could only arch a brow at the man who had interrupted, her mind picking through her rage to make sense of what he was saying to her - ah! It was that man who knew but the one dance-

“Of course I did,” she replied, head tilting the barest inch to one side, shifting the hair from one shoulder to slide down her back. With great force of effort, Lachesis schooled her expression to neutral - if this man was doing what she expected, then loving would have to come later, and well earned.

“We had discussed it, hadn’t we?”

It was a gamble that she didn’t like to make, to put herself at the mercy of another’s attention, or mental acuity, or worst of all, the kindness of their hearts. While what she had experienced of these had been magnificent in their time, they had been equally rare - and although he had saved her from making a spectacle, and purportedly from the greasy fingers of this man, she was not entirely sure she trusted him.

“So you two are together, then?” It was the man’s turn to raise an eyebrow, curling a lip to suck at one tooth thoughtfully, glancing between the two of them, and grimacing. “Seems a mismatch, don’t it.”

“I beg your pardon?” she snapped, stepping forward, fingers curling into a fist. “How dare you tell me where it is my heart should lie -”

“All right lady, you don’t gotta get hysterical.” Dismissive, the man waved them on further through the brick corridor down the alley way, into the dark where the door lay.

“C’n see why you aren’t exactly lovey about it,” he muttered to Wolf as they passed.

[ulirblessed]

what we live up to

mission board: herald / any skill prompt.

[ulirblessed]

The rumors about the orb had been fantastical, at the least—it was difficult for Eyvel to believe in the concept of other universes or worlds. Choices had power, and perhaps making one choice over another could change the trajectory of one's life.

Maybe.

What she did know that fate had one path, and everything that happened, happened for a reason. She'd been swept up in its waters enough times to understand that.

So surely there must be a reason for their predicament now. How just a glimpse of that supposed orb flooded her vision with light, throwing her into an unfamiliar forest, wearing a tunic and short skirt not unlike the one from her younger days...

Except this one had a pristine white cape, like the one Edain wore. The skirt, too. And the royal blue sash wrapped about her waist, trimmed in the finest gold. The outfit made for an odd marriage of her sensibilities as an Orgahil, and the nobility of Yngvi. But what was most surprising was the weapon that now sat her hands.

Yewfelle, in all of its holy glory.

...Wasn't this supposed to be with Febail?

Eyvel glances up, eyes landing on the woman standing not too far off from her. She recognized that face. It was the same one she had fought alongside years ago, and now accompanied while investigating the rumors. But those clothes...

"Lachesis? You have any idea what the hell is going on?"

She pauses. Her voice is... younger. And certainly much rougher.

@landsbluod

[landsbluod]

When Lachesis stepped into the light it was not even her greatest shock to find that she contributed to it, moving with an ethereal grace that she could not brag of on her best days. It was not the clothing, somehow as familiar as the dresses tailored to her at Nordion, with the comforting wrap of her brother’s mantle about her - the weight of the armor that he wore upon his flight from this world.

It was that the weapon in her hands sang of Mystletainn, rang with the call of her Blood and looked nearly as shaped by legends as her brother’s blade itself. But Mystletainn was a sword, elegant for the hand of the heir of their Major Blood, not an axe.

“One has to wonder…” she replied, and it came from a breathier voice, carried a confidence she felt only in such select moments that it seemed not even to come from her. Brow furrowed at the crunch of approaching footsteps, little enough time to question her dear friend, unchanged as the day that they had all fled that horrible burning castle.

“But we shall have time to discuss later. Come, let us show them the might we bear!”

Heaving the axe in her grip came with it a fierce burn in her heart, and the song it murmured with her blood roared it course through her veins. When she bared her teeth, it was not the pretty face of the princess, helpless and left behind.

It was the ferocity of a lion.

[landsbluod]

there is your image in light

[virtuoustyrfing]

"Ah, well—" Unaccustomed to the mallet's weight, Seliph takes a far clumsier first swing than intended. It's too light to flatten the rice, the latter of which slides harmlessly up and down the basin's edge.

In a split second of panic, blue eyes dart to Lachesis' hands. The young king smiles sheepishly at her once he realizes that there is no swelling or redness, no signs of harm done. "Let me try this again." He readjusts his grip and raises the mallet again.

This time, it falls on the rice with a satisfying thwack.

"Anyhow, I've been told that you were ferocious on the battlefield, but kind off it, Lady Lachesis." Seliph has yet to see the lioness bare her fangs, but he doesn't doubt the validity of those words.

"Does Princess Nanna know you are here? And what of Ares?" It is his turn to ask. "They're attending the academy," he adds, despite the real possibility that she is already aware of her daughter and nephew's presence in the hallowed halls of Garreg Mach.

He makes sure to keep the pace of his swings steady but not uncomfortable to work with.

"As for Diarmuid, I haven't seen him for quite some time." Not since they parted ways at Belhalla. "But I am sure he'd be glad to hear the news."

[landsbluod]

“Is that so?” She said it lightly, almost amused, reaching forward a hand to shift and push the rice mound as she had been instructed while Seliph continued to hammer it. He was as strong as she had hoped, as she had expected, moving with a surety and fluidity that belied the blood that thrummed in his veins.

Or perhaps she was merely being nostalgic. Nostalgic for the time when it was commonplace to be surrounded by such strong hands, by the comfort of Holy Blood and those who bore it, where she might find herself welcome and amongst kindred spirits.

“I can’t suppose that was Edain who had said so. Perhaps little Oifey or Shannan, hm?” She wrinkled her nose with a little smile, looking up at him and finding his smile so achingly familiar to his father’s.

Her own smile brightened, dawning on her face like a rush of sunlight, at the mention of her children, of her nephew. “Yes, I’ve seen Nanna, and little Ares - he is not quite so little as I recall him, but his heart is the same, and he has grown so handsome. Are…are you in the same class as they are?”

It was too much to ask, that they all be wrapped so neatly in the little bow at the academy for her to find, all these children grown so much while she had been captured.

“O-oh,” her throat tightened around the word, and her fingers slowed, though not enough for the mallet to catch her in her moment of weakness, taking the edge of the rice and tucking skillfully around its blunt edge while Seliph continued his rhythm. “Are you…” A clear of her throat. “Are you in contact with him?”

[landsbluod]

off the rack

[doeofsacae]

This can’t be happening. 

Only a few days into Sue’s stay at Garreg Mach, and something’s already gone wrong.

It all started when Sue got a knock at her door, but when she went to see who was there… they were already gone, with the only evidence of their visit being the woven laundry basket at her feet. 

She swiftly picked the basket up and took it inside her room, ready to inspect its contents. When she set the basket down on her bed, she lifted the sheet off the top of the basket, and her heart sank. 

She felt faint. 

Her favorite deel, the one she had so many memories with, was ruined. 

She gave them specific instructions for how to wash it! She already didn’t trust the staff with her traditional clothing, but they assured her that they would follow her instructions and be extra careful with it. Now, it’s pink! 

Sue was about to cover her ruined deel when she noticed floral embroidery on one of the lower items. Her deel didn’t have any floral components… 

Upon closer inspection, she was relieved to discover that these were not her clothes. It was a pant suit. A very pink pant suit with a matching cloak. It looked like something a noblewoman would wear, with the high quality make and all of the details. 

Just who did this outfit belong to? 

Sue had to get these clothes back to their wearer, but more importantly, get her deel back. 

There was only one problem… how could she leave her room? Sue couldn’t go out wearing her uniform because she had class the following morning… and it wasn’t like she could leave in her sleepwear… it would be indecent. 

She would have to wear the stranger’s clothes. They looked as if they would fit… Sue would just have to be careful as to not ruin the outfit as she borrowed it. That would be easier said than done.

The suit was not loose like her traditional clothing, they were much more restrictive, even more so than her new uniform. Sue didn’t like it very much. It was of fine make, but it just wasn’t her style. 

She felt too exposed.

The outfit didn’t have sleeves, and neither did the cloak… but at least it was something to cover herself with. Her red deel did have short sleeves, but they reached her elbows! Not to mention that she wore a black undershirt underneath her it as well. 

She had to find this person, fast. She didn’t want to wear this outfit longer than she had to.

With a small sigh and a bit of hesitancy, Sue opened her door and sprinted down the dorm’s hallway and headed for the last place her deel was, the laundry station.

[landsbluod]

Her conundrum came in several parts that Lachesis found herself attempting to put together as one whole, in their order of priority. She could not, above all else, wander about the monastery in this shift - it needed cleaning, itself, but above that it was immodest, faded and revealing and, if she were being entirely frank, none of anyone else’s business.

But, she needed to find her own clothing. The gift from Nanna and little Ares had been amongst the first things that had made her feel quite human, after her long stint of distinctly feeling otherwise, and being treated so. It was not merely the symbol of her reunion with her family, it was the symbol of her deliverance from that vile and stifling darkness.

“I suppose that we could fashion a chiton for you, of the fresh linens? Oh, Lady Lachesis, I’m so sorry.”

Lachesis arched a brow, attempting to mask her impatience at the suggestion, even as the linens they had just stretched out to dry were not still dripping on the flagstones. “Whoever is at fault matters little,” and it was the kindest and most polite thing that she could say in the moment.

She breathed a sigh through her teeth, glancing at the basket that remained. It was not ideal, of course, but amongst all her options it was the only one that had any merit - at worst, the owner would see her, and she would need to explain that she was no thief, but that it was merely a (she must remind herself with a measured perspective) comedic mistake, and one easily done.

The weight of it surprised her, layers of earthen tones that rubbed against her skin in a manner she was wholly unfamiliar, in a wrap that called to mind once more that desert that she had spent so long within, and the nation that had lain beyond it. Did Diarmuid dress in this manner, when he lived in Isaach?

When she lifted her chin and secured her hair back, half plaited with a leather thong, she must have looked as proud as any Isaachian princess.

“If you could, at least, wash my shift in my absence, then perhaps we can make an exchange when I return.”

And thus she set off, leaving the washing station and making her way through the winding paths of the monastery.

[landsbluod]

ink & soot

[landsbluod]

Many have been expecting to attend the upcoming Herald of Spring Festival, but as invites begin to roll out, something comes to light: permitted attendance is being filtered through unaffiliated faculty, with invites only going to those deemed virtuous enough. That said, all invites are identical, meaning there is nothing stopping invitees from passing their invitations onto others. Maybe you think someone else is more worthy than you are, maybe you think you were unfairly passed over, or maybe you think the staff’s evaluation of virtue ought not play a part in the decision at all. [Grants Authority +1] (starter for @crowsbite)

Upon first glance, the invitations were nothing special, and there was no question as to why they were within the providence of the faculty of the monastery to deploy to those who had intended, or were deemed appropriate, to attend. She'd heard little of the details of the festival proper, even when taking the plain envelope into hand with a simple thanks.

Turning it over in her hand, her thumb rubbed over the delicate - and deliberate- emboss of the creamy ivory envelope, brow furrowing at the arced wings and open, crying beak.

"A raven?"

"Miss?" The cleric looked up from the bag slung across her body, blinking.

Turning the envelope, Lachesis tilted it to allow the embossment to catch the light, shadows dipping into the crannies of each feather delicately. "See here? Is it common for correspondence from Baile to have such a stamp? Are they not a more…temperate, semi-tropical location?"

"Don't receive much correspondence from Baile, matter of fact."

"Then…is it a symbol of the monastery?" She knew the answer to this, even before the cleric laughed and shook her head.

"'Course not. Seiros is a dragon. You foreigners do get funny ideas sometimes. If you'll excuse me, I got a bunch more o'these to be handing out. That one's yours, but I gotta find who everyone else belongs to. Toodles!"

"Ah, so you mean - ah…" And the cleric had left, waving over her shoulder, leaving Lachesis to contemplate the envelope in her hands.

It would follow, based on the way the cleric had spoken, that there was some differentiation between invitations - although why anyone would associate her with such an ill portent, she could not explain. A rose, perhaps; a lioness, certainly. A horse, even, would not have been so amiss as a carrion bird, and messenger of prophecy.

Standing, she dusted her skirts thoughtfully, and began the work of hunting down its proper owner.

[landsbluod]

it's not paranoia if you stab them first

[landsbluod]

Excitement over the Herald of Spring Festival infects the whole monastery, and there are some students and faculty who make eager plans for it as an upcoming faux-vacation opportunity. However, for those who have been on longer-term missions for the Church before, you can’t help but feel the need to prepare your weapons and armor for the trip. Sneaking into the blacksmith to sharpen your inventory feels prudent, but you sense the judgment of others lurking at every corner, disapproving of coming off as so aggressive to a pacifist community like that of Baile… [Grants Axe +1] (starter for @reverenceofmacedon)

The flurry of preparation took on many forms in Garreg Mach then that Lachesis had scarce seen in times before, holidays to this estate or that for whichever noble had it in their mind that the hunting was particularly good, or to hold some festival or ball in their name or a friend's, something to bolster their good-standing within the ever-fickle league that she and her circle of peers had moved within.

Family Nordion had found little reason to move about or to vacation in such a manner. This was not to say of course that Lachesis was unfamiliar with the leisure of holiday, and not to say that in some moments she found herself nearly looking forward to the journey to a new location to see something that she had not yet, in her life to that point.

While many students and some of the faculty found themselves in excited chatter, comparing this outfit for that in gossip about the weather, or prior experiences with those few who'd had the privilege - there were others who skirted the side of caution.

A healthy dose of both, perhaps. In the same trip to town as the tailor for a pair of trousers, her steps found her drawing closer to the clank of the smith's hammer, a shopfront more deserted she could not have imagined.

"Just about to close up," the attendant said tersely, looking at her with curiosity as he lifted the leather apron over his head. "We ain't gonna be getting much business, once e'eryone goes to that festival."

"Is that so? Expecting a wellspring of convenient peace?"

The attendant looked at her strangely, propping a fist on his hip. "It's a festival," he said after a moment, cocking his head. "People meant to make merry, beggin' your pardon, lady."

Lachesis resisted the urge to snort, and simply cocked a brow, a corner of her smile lilting upward. "I suppose so. Of course, forgive me. I merely meant…my blade has become dreadfully dull in the last weeks. If it isn't sharpened, I might as well go to the training hall, for all the good it will do."

"Gonna have to wait," attendant said idly, turning his back on her as he moved about the shop, making to close everything up. "Once we return to business, 'll expect to see you first in line, yeah?"

[landsbluod]

"oh no please, let me" glitch loop

[landsbluod]

It’s that time of year again, and the savvy students and faculty members find some excuse to be out of town or feign illness to get out of the most unpopular part of the Ethereal Ball: cleaning up afterwards. Unfortunately for you, you weren’t quite savvy enough yourself or you got caught lying. Pick up a broom or a mop and get to making the monastery halls presentable again, and while you’re at it, shift all the furniture so everything’s in the right place. [Grants Heavy Armor +1] (starter for @moriddyn)

The haze of the night had gathered about them like a faint mist, a buzz of recollection of all the conversations that they’d had with one another, the dances and drinks and laughs, and some more than these, and some less. It was nearly a dull numbing sensation, the bloodflow coming back to a body that had been in stasis, the prickle of pins and needles as the real world broke through the illusion left behind.

For having been her first Ball in Fodlan, Lachesis would not entirely have agreed that it was Ethereal, but she would not begrudge the Church the usage of the term. It was in line with the month, and the date was an auspicious celebration, and she’d had fun at the ball besides. Many of them had, so it seemed, by the mess that had been left behind.

It was a specific manner of humbling, to remain in the aftermath of carnage, and to let it settle upon one’s eyes with frank clarity. She cocked her head at the strewn glasses, the sticky spots of champagne and that syrupy frozen drink.

And worst of all, the popcorn, scattered to all corners, like furtive little dustbunnies, equally shamless for their part in the remains of the battlefield.

She sighed, before lifting her arms to pile her hair into a knot at her nape, and reached for the sack that had been left behind for all the detritus they could sweep up, and the implements to do so.

They, for she had been assured it was not merely her that had remained behind to assist, although there was a part of her that would not have minded, except to look upon the ingraciousness - but so far, she had not seen hide nore hair of the other who had stayed to clean.

Her steps took her through the dark rooms, now less magical without their moving stories, the lights lifted to show rows of seats that clung to her in a manner that felt nearly empty. Her heels clicked along the floor, and she shimmied her body into the spaces between seats to scoop up the sticky mess left behind.

The crunch of another step behind her caused her to shoot upward, and she felt her back bump against the body of another, and she felt the telltale splash of another of those sticky drinks.

“Oh for - oh!” In spite of the circumstance, Lachesis lifted fingers to her lips and let out a laugh. “Indeed, are we to keep meeting this way? Will you check to see if any of it stained the dress, please?”

[landsbluod]

too many swords. i wish i could give it zero stars

[landsbluod]

A special secret shop, somehow miles bigger on the inside than it appears on the outside, has appeared out of nowhere! With incredible deals and a trove of items you can’t find anywhere else, everyone has been scrambling trying to claim some for themselves— but there’s a strange catch. Only those with a special card are allowed in, and anyone else is turned away by the shop’s intimidating network of guards. However, they are making a special exception fitting for the season by granting new cards to people in relationships. For anyone with a special someone this wouldn’t be a problem, but the many people who don’t are now fresh out of options…or at least, 'legitimate’ ones. Be it faking a relationship, sneaking in, or any other schemes one can cook up, there are plenty of ways for the 'creative’ sort to find their way in. But are you curious enough to try? (starter for @aurelianwolf)

The attraction of a shop, one so secretive due to its - presumably - rarer wares, was admittedly one that Lachesis found difficult to ignore. The trials that she had gone through to find her blade, only to find that it had been safe the whole time, left her with a flutter in her chest that was difficult to identify. Something akin to excitement, but more familiar to loss.

She wondered, then, whose heirlooms they might have had, whose lost treasures had ended up in their walls and at their discretion, never to be seen again.

It wasn’t fancy, then, that drove her to seeking out the secret of this shop, but justice, or at least a version of it that could be held unspoken. Better her hand, wasn’t it? Than the empty racks of someone looking to gain only coin?

But coin, it seemed, was not entirely what they had wanted, for even spending it on rumors was not entirely enough to secure her entry - or, for that matter, a specific location. It was pure speculation, at this point, perhapses and might bes, looking for patterns in places where there were none to find a shop where one oughtn’t be.

“Lady, if you walk by this alley one more time, someone might think you’re up to something.” The man who spoke to her canted his head in amusement, and there was something in the lean of his body against brick wall and the cross of arms over chest that hinted that within him was the direction she sought - certainly within the crooked slant of his smile, and the crease of his eyes, daring her to ask outright, delighting in the power of being able to say no.

"And what of you?" she snapped in response. "Isn't it so that this alley is otherwise unoccupied? Unless you mean to say that someone is unwelcome to this particular street, at this particular moment?"

"Some someones," he replied, uselessly, lifting a pinky to pick at his teeth in an affectation of being unbothered. "Not all. You for certain," he added, flicking the nail in her direction, an action that made her see red.

"And what does that mean?" The words were only barely to the side of a snarl, and this made the man chuckle - something that raised her hackles further as he lifted a hand and began to lower fingers, until one remained, and he tapped.

"Alone, ain'tcha? Unless you got a ring around that pretty throat."

[landsbluod]

seeds for a garden you'll never see

[verseandrhyme]

With every flap of the wings, Mitama feels as though she will be tossed from the pegasi's back. A lifetime of absence of what should have been second nature leaves her clinging tightly to the rider who flies her here with repeated apologies forced from her lips. Flying. What a vile thing humans found a way to accomplish. If only they had followed fate's design and stayed on the ground.

A woman on horseback calls out to them. That must be the person they have come to meet. Which means, more importantly that this nightmarish flight can end. Mitama sags with relief, only to feel her stomach lurch as the pegasus dives down.

They settle far enough that by the time the woman on horseback reaches them, Mitama has had time to dismount and recover herself. She lifts a hand to block the sunlight as she looks up at the woman.

…huh. There is something familiar about her.

"Hello." Unfortunately, there is work to be done, which means time to chat is limited. "I was asked to inspect the plant to ensure it's safety on the trip back. Would you mind if I take a look at it?"

[landsbluod]

“By all means.” Lachesis complied, understanding that her capabilities as healer stemmed from an internal will, rather than a fond education of the botanical arts. Although, this was not intended for healing, was it?

“What characteristics are needing to be monitored?” Not able to help her curiosity, Lachesis peered at the plant from every angle as she extended it in her arms to be taken, gently. “In the instance that I may need to deliver one myself.”

She intended, of course, to go back as many times as necessary - if indeed it was necessary - for the stock to remain viable for whatever festival awaited.

Cocking her head, Lachesis’ eyes alighted on a shape in the distance, feeling cool spread from her gut as she recognized the shape of reptilian wings flapping over the mountain.

“Are we expecting a third?”

[landsbluod]

NOOO DON'T CALL THE RUM TUM TUGGER BACK LOOK AT MY CHOCOLATES

[sacrificialspear]

No, he has no claim to any skill with their task at all, something she knows well. If this was not a talent that she had cultivated in her time before their army advanced on Nordion soil, then when would he have possibly learned?

Finn makes what passes for a laugh these days. Wiping the chocolates bits from his hands, he turns to assist her, but finds what place he might have taken already filled by the instructor she has called over.

…ah. It should not be surprising that she would seek out someone else over his help. Skilled hands will move them along to their goal better than his ever could. His hands have only ever been good at what he had been trained for. Fighting. Maintenance. Labour. Not the soft sort of things that filled up the time during peaceful days.

Not the sort of tasks that princesses deserved.

An odd feeling settles in his chest as he watches the two work and chat with one another. The expression on Lachesis's face is bright and hopeful. How often has she worn that expression? How often has she allowed him to see it? So many of their days together had been marked by hardship, so few by peace.

She looks happy.

The woman takes Lachesis farther along the task than he might have, and his presence at what little counter space they have to work upon will only crowd them. Silently, Finn turns back to their stove and pulls three pairs of whisks from a drawer, one for each pot, and sets about mixing the melting chocolates so they will not burn.

[landsbluod]

After the attendant had left, their nougat settling and cooling at the end of their workbench, Lachesis tugged her notebook back into her grip, flipping through it discretely and snapping it shut decisively.

“Very well, since this is setting, we shall move onto the next. Ares’ will be rather easier, since the chocolatier has been so kind as to peel the nuts for us, they will simply need to be roasted and I believe I can perform at least this well enough.”

Perhaps it was unorthodox, and she had never attempted it before, but she knew a basic fire spell as any fledgling mage did, and spread a thick layer of slivered almonds along a baking sheet.

Over her shoulder, she called to Finn, already lighting the spell in hand and reaching her hands for the sheet to toss and roast them as she spoke; “If there is the dark chocolate available, could you please pour it into the mold for it to set while I am - ah - !!”

It had happened before she quite knew that it was happening, or how - some speck of flour, or a poor calibration of the heat or her lack of control, or the distraction of looking to her dearest friend and seeing that his expression had softened and lightened, and that perhaps he might even have had a smile on his lips - as the surge of heat from her palms sparked, and caught, and turned into a small crackling blaze licking her fingers and palms as she jerked both hands back, sending the baking sheet and all almonds tumbling to the ground.

“Damn!” She cradled her hands to her breast briefly with the sting, inspecting briefly to see the skin red and shiny, and her eyes pricked hot with frustration. “Damn!!”

[diadic]

serendipitous

            ⤷     ethereal ball 2026:   cont. from here.   ( first half )

[diadic]

    Every day? It gives him pause enough to nearly threaten the tempo of their steps, close to falling out of the expected rhythm altogether, but he soon recovers— forces himself to.

Because if he doesn't keep in time with Lachesis, if he risks losing her to the sands and sounds of the past, he will curse himself this time for sure.

“Nanna takes better care of me than I do her,” he speaks perhaps a bit too honestly, forgetting the need to peacock in front of such an important figure as the mother of the one he loves. At the same time, before she had taken that form in Leif's mind, Lachesis had long been a great many other things:

The woman who visited Leonster and brought him one of his playmates.

The woman who helped take him out of a falling home.

The woman who disappeared and took an ounce of happiness with her when she did, leaving the three of them with her loss and a farewell.

The woman who, in some of his earliest memories, had filled the void a dead mother had left behind.

Lachesis.

“She's always looked to keep up with me and healed my wounds for me, charming people to my side. I wouldn't have made it this far without her,” he confesses. “When I became a Master Knight, I did it for her. She was the one who spoke of it the most like she believed in it...”

It gave him the opportunity at last to heal her wounds in return; it gave her the strength to push forward and be her own force on the battlefield. No longer did she need to merely tend to others, she could at last be taken care of herself with the load split between the two of them as mounted healers.

“...she did it remembering you, didn't she, Lachesis?”

[landsbluod]

“A Master Knight? You…?” Lachesis blinked.

He tried so hard. She felt it in every step, each as forceful and focused as the last, as though the dance were not merely a preoccupation but the most important thing that he had to endure tonight. Perhaps they were alike, in that way - that they only gave their all, or nothing.

Perhaps that was what it took to become a Master Knight.

It changed things, that perception of him, to look at him and know that not only had he endured everything that he had, but that he had become exemplar at the other side of it. The Minor Blooded prince of a nation, needing to prove himself. The light that she looked at him in then, as a man who held the same face as the boy, as the babe, shone a little clearer.

Lachesis’s lips lifted as her eyes flickered downward, a moment of demurr rare for her.

“She did all of this for you, and you returned in kind, didn’t you? You may say that it was in my honor, but I have spoken with my daughter - she is loving, and kind, and she has the same desire to see right done as any Nordion. If she took fair care of you in my absence, I would say it was for love of you over memory of me.”

[lionscion]

When the Mitosis Backfires || Ares & Lachesis

[lionscion]

A walk...

Protest built behind his lips, still pressed shut into a tense frown for the moment, as he passed a strained glance between the office further down, then the light of the courtyard pouring in from beyond adjacent archway, and then back again. One time around stiffened his already slow pace; a second tightened the grip on his aunt's arm into a momentary squeeze. Then, rather than having a third...he looked down instead.

It was dizzying to have to do so for his aunt, rather than up from below like he remembered, only to just be thrown again by the sight of her now resting so easily against him. It barely registered as enough weight to pull his attention down in the first place, and yet the smile it wore had been enough to make the realization he had slowed to a stop slip right by.

"..."

It took less time to catch up with it than it felt to Ares, marking the moment with a hiss of breath through his nose as he picked up his feet again.

"If you collapse again," Ares replied, "I'm taking you." His firmness stressed the agreement well, along with the lack of space he was willing to allow for changes, yet it nevertheless made no resistance when changing their course. Carefully, gently, he steered them away from the hall and towards the archway she asked for, and as that better light grazed the first few inches of their faces, Ares began to wonder to himself.

What did she see looking up from down there now?

[landsbluod]

This brought a laugh to her lips, a sound that she had not been sure that she could make any longer, that her vocal chords had forgotten in the cold long dark where she had been, in the dry and endless expanse of the desert that had taken the lives and happiness of all who had set foot within it.

She would not have called it a comfortable sound, tugging dry against her throat, unpracticed in so long, but it was a melody that her body almost remembered as well as she did the sharp planes of the face she looked up into, the bob of the apple in his throat as he spoke, the warm way his arms curled around her-

“Will you indeed? Listen to how stern you’ve become, nephew, and bold enough to threaten me.” The tease came out lightly, less of the force behind it than Lachesis might have known a lifetime ago, and it was all for the better, the emphasis of all that time had changed him, but her as well.

And they both appeared to know it.

The light of the winter sun almost warmed her fingertips as they moved into the courtyard, tables readily available for the sparse amount of people out and about, and out of instinct she flexed her fingers against the warm grip Ares kept on her arm.

“This one, here,” she directed, seating them down with no small amount of relief.

For when he sat opposite her, with the full splendor of the sunkissed halo behind his golden head, Lachesis felt the breath taken from her once more, and her throat tightened.

She smiled, reached a hand across the table to take his into hers.

“Now. From the beginning. Everything that I’ve missed, and leave nothing out. We have all the time in the world, don’t we?”

- fin.

[landsbluod]

reckoner.

[dancersnewme]

Lene didn't understand what was happening, one moment she was just doing her job, the next she was pushed to be blamed for a murder. There was no way she would let this slide! No! Not one bit!

She defended herself tooth and nail. A wall that stood proudly against those vile lies. On the outside, Lene looked fine, almost as if they didnt affect her- or were even about her. But deep down, she was... somewhat hurt. Did she really look that suspicious?

She was walking through the manor, only catching the tail end of the gossip. Of course it would spread like wildfire. Lene was about to step up and (once again) fight for her innocence, but it seems that someone else had gotten there before her.

Lene looked relieved as Lachesis approached her, she finally felt that she wasn't alone in this place. "Miss Lachesis! Im so happy to see you!" She rushed over, almost teary eyed "Can you believe it? They think I did it-! All because I passed by ONCE while they're were alive!" Lene was more annoyed than anything, taking a deep breath "No... You're right. I need to focus..." shaking her hands as she paced to take the nerves out of her system, she needed to be as sharp as a dagger for this to go well.

[landsbluod]

What a relief it was, that she was so dedicated to presenting herself as calm and unflappable in the face of the accusations. Lachesis would not have blamed her for a moment to lose her head and her patience, to have been more shaken, or more angry.

“Calm yourself.” A hand reached out and worked itself in between Lene’s, the wringing knot of her agitation, and cradled the girl’s hand in her grip, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They are ignorant from panic, but we cannot allow ourselves the same luxury, as to be so foolish. Whatever their imaginations pull to create a story that places you at its center, we must ignore entirely.”

Lene had been friendly enough to all within the household, just as Lachesis herself had been - their purpose was to smooth the friction of paranoia, and they both knew well enough what a kind smile could do to make that easier. It had worked for the first day, she supposed, but now they needed to reveal the mettle beneath.

“It hasn’t been too long. Ideal circumstances would have us find the culprit, to ensure your innocence without a doubt. I believe we can be so lucky, if we simply put in the work. Come, there is an entire manse to find our evidence.”

And she knew the best places to start: the scene itself, or with the viscount.

[landsbluod]

and the weather outside is frightful

[windherited]

At her indication, Rhajat zooms in on the marks in the snow. To have a predator save its hunt for later is not so unusual; why, then, is this woman sounding so confused? Rhajat rolls her eyes beneath the fringe of her bangs. Must be one of those bleeding heart types after all.

"It's probably just saving the children for a different meal. It's just an animal, after all."

Maybe it's naive of her to believe. But for now, there's no indication that this excursion should be anything but an opportunity for more data or ingredients... on top of the chance to save some kids, of course.

As the frail winter branches bar off more and more of the narrow road, she must eventually contend with bringing her rattling cart to a halt. Rhajat hops from the saddle, her feet landing with a muffled crunch into the snow beneath. She quickly gets to work tying her horses to a nearby tree. "Guess we gotta go the rest of the way on foot. Great," she says sarcastically. She eyes her companion a little suspiciously, as if somehow the terrain is her doing. But Rhajat says nothing more, only trudging onwards behind Lachesis as they approach more dense woods.

[landsbluod]

It was a response that did not fit the situation in multiple regards, and Lachesis watched through narrowed eyes as the young woman dismounted her cart, tied the horses to the trees. Indeed, it was true that to ride here was more perilous, that travelling on foot was the safer path, and as she alighted from her own saddle and boot met snow, cruching a depression into the drift she caught the impression of another footprint, smaller, nearly filled in from the wind.

It was too dangerous, they needed to travel on foot.

Her eyes narrowed. If it could not carry them beyond a certain point, then it surely would have noticed, and…needed to set the children down? For what, their safety?

“Indeed…”

Her voice was swallowed by the wind, and she tugged her cape closer about her body, bracing shoulders against the elements and angling her body and her gait to ensure that the girl needn’t face the brunt of it. Her hair swiped across her face, and she brushed it aside with some frustration.

“Look, there -” Pointing, she traced a line of soft divots in the snow that increased in frequency as they went along - running perpendicular to their own tracks, and those of the beast and children. “Another creature? An animal?”

That didn’t sit entirely right. The steps were so deliberate and uniform, even the hardiest of woodland creatures would have been sprinting to rid themselves of the foul weather to seek shelter.

“I ill like this. Stay cautious, if you can. I suspect we will find our quarry soon.”