it's the lioness that hunts

lachesis of nordion, a pilgrim at garreg mach monastery || closed fire emblem roleplay blog affiliated with the officers academy

[landsbluod]

regality. rebirth.

When the bouquet of lilies is handed to her, she has to laugh. It isn't often that she is associated with anything but roses, but on this night, she finds she doesn't mind the divert, finds it fitting - especially with the outfit that she has picked, it feels almost divinely accorded.

She takes a step into the ball room, commanding without necessarily meaning to, and while she finds herself on no one's arm she can of course be found milling occasionally around her daughter and her dearest friend. This is a festival for the living, and Lachesis is determined to find the spark of hope and love that they all so desperately need.

[ WEEK ONE PROMPTS ] [ WEEK TWO PROMPTS ]

Rose: Berkut, Wolf, Elffin, Kurt

Orchid: Finn, Lene, Azura, Bernadetta, Nanna, Flayn

Lily: Celine, Hilda, L'Arachel

Hyacinth: Estel, Ronan, Clair, Miriel, Petra, Matthew

Tulip: Tsubaki, Niamh, Dorothea, Travant, Deirdre

(NOW WITH FIT ART BENEATH THE CUT - THANK YOU KUNO :pien::pien::pien:)

[macnaradhaigh]

@landsbluod sent: [ LEICESTER ] - An expressive, rhythmic dance that is only well-known in its homeland. Sweeping, dramatic movements and making noise with clapping and foot-stomping are required for this passionate style.

Attending the Ethereal Ball requires dancing, and so dance she shall. Petra is paired with a woman she doesn't recognize, but the confident ease and elongated posture makes it clear she is noble.

From the corner of her eye, she sees the other dancers exchanging flowers, and she wordlessly presents a hyacinth to the woman. A meaningless gesture, really, as the flowers are unceremoniously placed to the side as the group begins the dance. Petra is used to learning on her feet, and in this case, literally learning the dance as she hears the song for the first time. She expects strings and whatever variation of the waltz that has gotten the public's attention. Much to her surprise, a syncopated drum beat is followed by a high-soaring woodwind, and the dancers around her stomp their feet and clap to the rhythm. It is boisterous and it is joyous, and Petra loses herself for a moment and forgets to mind the number of teeth she shows when she smiles.

The dance concludes and Petra can't help but look at her partner. "Do you know where this form originates from? You were watching the dancing earlier with the attention of someone who knows about movement. I thought perhaps you recognized it."

[landsbluod]

The exchange of flowers was for some the highlight of the evening, the collection of blooms and smiles alike, but Lachesis found that one rose looked quite like another under the warm ballroom lighting, and what she really wanted to see was how the soul sang under music, and through which dances they flourished.

She was skilled enough at those taught to her ilk - bastard or not, she was descendent of a Crusader, and her education included enough waltzing to make her head spin - but the ones she really delighted in were those that brought a group to life, be they the ones on the floor with them, or the many feet that had stomped out the rhythms before, under a vast expanse of a starry sky, or beside the roar of a bonfire with, or merely between two people.

Nearly breathless, cheeks burning with the grin of delight, Lachesis turned to the young lady as she spoke, before shaking her head.

“I admit I knew none of it - not before the music began. It is a Fodlan dance, is it not? Your accent…I suspect we have both learned the movements together. You move beautifully - I would be delighted to dance with you again, if you’d like to master it. I believe one or two more turns, don’t you?”

[mxlusine]

[ GOSSIP ] - For those who don't want to be the center of attention, sitting on the sidelines and observing those who do is a time-honored tradition. Exchanging thoughts with another while doing so is a rite of passage for a student—it is a slightly worse look for the staff to take part.

"No, it's very much true. She was supposed to attend with that Thomas fellow, but it seems," a pause, lasting long enough for them both to spot the woman in question, "that she has found Timothee to be a better partner. There are bets, now, to see which man will end up drawing his blade first."

It isn't normally the kind of gossip that Zephia cares about, but the ball is a dreary affair, and she is not at all interested in seeing couples dance and giggle and stumble their way through the routines they should have all known by heart. Unfortunately, that also means that, comparatively, it becomes far more interesting to see where the rifts among the attendees have begun to form.

"I imagine you must've attended and seen plenty of events like this back in your homeland. Even their little lovers' spat must be quite tedious for you, Lachesis."

—crash!

An emphasis, it seems, on spat, as Thomas throws himself at Timothee with a fork in hand. There are already people rushing to pull them apart, but Zephia only tips her head. How messy; he should have swung from the left instead of head on. It might have led to a lighter blow, but at least he could have managed to dig the utensil into someplace soft and tender...

[landsbluod]

Lachesis snorted.

Thomas was a lout, and Timothee a braggart - neither were worth the soil on the soles of their boots, let alone the attention of any woman in the ballroom, and yet they both held the young lady transfixed and, more irritatingly, indecisive.

“If it were as simple as a decision, then I don’t suspect that either should draw blade - oh, Crusaders, the fool has used the dessert spoon.”

Lout and Braggart crashed against one another and it was clear from the jump that neither had paid the slightest lick of attention during their martial lessons, struggling and scuffling less like fine military officers - purported - and more like gangly boys.

Lachesis sipped neatly at her water, watching the scene through narrowed eyes. Zephia had been correct that she’d seen things like this - if not this precise situation, again and again - and indeed, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

“Ah, look. She’s gotten up to insert herself. The water glass is a bold move, though I find that it rarely makes any effect when they’re this far into their pride. All she’s done is made the floor wet, and herself angry.”

[boundlesschaos]

[ NETWORK ] - One of your fellow ball-goers is being accosted, and getting into earshot, you realize it's by someone who claims to be one of the scouts looking for talent. But they're being a little pushy, aren't they? And are you sure they're really who they say they are?

She had noticed them when she first walked in. Recruiters, scouts, those with a keen eye for talent. Whether or not this was true was something Niamh did not have the background to know. But, when she sees someone say No, she knows that it means No.

"Did you not hear...?" She asks, no obvious ire in her voice, yet holding an intimidating weight to it. "When someone says no, they mean it...I will repeat it until you understand..."

Were it anyone else, maybe they'd think the 'threat' of sorts is in name alone. But, true to who Niamh is, she does in fact repeat the word 'no' until the strange scout leaves.

"I think they understand now..."

Still, Niamh remains focused on the odd recruiter as they head further into the crowd. Almost as if expecting they'd pull something on her or their previous target if she looks away.

[landsbluod]

It did not really matter to her what they were here for - some dance competition, she supposed? Which in truth she might have been interested, if it were not for how pushy they were.

"Cut a pretty figure on the stage. You tied down to the monastery?"

"Excuse me, I am merely attempting to reach - "

"Could give you fame, if you wanted! Name in lights!"

"I said excuse me, although perhaps you didn't hear me over - "

"Music, cheering fans - !!"

"If you don't step away from me this instant - "

Loathe be it for Lachesis to desire the need for another person, where her own declination was insufficient, but that the other woman was willing to step in gave her a thrill of vicious solidarity as they both cut an intense and united stonewall for the purported scout, who paused before eventually skittering away to till different pastures.

Lachesis' eyes bored a hole into their back at the retreat, before glancing to meet the expression of the mysterious young woman.

"My apologies that you felt the need to get involved - what a persistent little rodent, a surprise for what is apparently quite a prestigious competition, at what is apparently an illustrious academy." Her tone was polite, though it held the weight of accusation that such a venue would invite these types to begin with.

Dipping her chin, Lachesis attempted a smile. "My name is Lachesis. Please, if nothing else, we can swap names and flowers. Better to wipe the whole memory and start anew."

[boundlesschaos]

Niamh stares at the fleeing scout for a few seconds longer, before, certain that they have indeed fleed, she turns to face Lachesis. The person before her was saying sorry? This nets a curious tilt of Niamh’s head, as she now focuses that stare on her. “Why are you saying sorry…the person who bothered you should say that, not you…”

Wait, that person was a rodent? They didn’t look like someone with ears and a tail. Her head tilts in the other direction, attempting to recall that person’s features. They looked perfectly like a person, not like a mouse or a rat…

“I think…there’s always people here,” she eventually decides on, “that like to see what they can get away with…they don’t always understand when no actually means no…” It was new for here to see someone trying to search for talent, though. For the upcoming event? It had to be for that. 

“Oh…” the sight of the flowers reminds her. She’s got Tulips of her own to exchange, but before that, she places a hand over her chest. “I am Niamh…if someone else bothers you, then you can tell me…” It’s an offer more than a requirement, since Niamh can tell that Lachesis can probably handle things on her own, too. Still, with the number of people here, it doesn’t help to have the option just in case. 

Niamh then brings forth a couple of Tulips, all in various colors. “Here…you can swap one of mine for yours. Pick whichever color you like best…” Notably, Niamh seems to be carrying a lot of whites, yellows, and reds, with some being a mix of the colors. “You can pick whichever of yours for me to have…” 

[landsbluod]

That prompted a smile from Lachesis, and she crossed one arm over the other thoughtfully. “Mm, I would agree. Far too few understand what such a simple word means - it just takes a few extra knocks to get it through their thick skulls. But, at the very least, now we know that at least someone else can be called upon, in these instances. It is a pleasure to meet you, even under such circumstances.”

It seemed to bother the both of them less with each passing moment, and somehow more - the knowledge that there was something untoward that need be stopped, but the comfort that they had found in stopping it as one.

Lachesis considered the selection of tulips carefully, silent for a moment, bringing one finger to crook at her lips before nodding, and tugging a vibrant red from the bouquet.

In its place, from her own bouquet, she tugged a stark white lily, and carefully secured it.

“There. And now, we have a bond, don’t we? As silly as it sounds - these flowers will wilt and die, but I assure you that I shall not forget your name or your face, or your kindness.”

Turning, she offered a little wave, and another smile. “I hope that you enjoy the rest of your evening, Niamh.”

[landsbluod]

May 2026 Activity Check

-PASSED- 

Skill Points Earned:   Monthly +1 Any Skill -> Faith +1 (x) 25 -> 27

Allocated:   Lance D+ -> C Faith C -> C+

Rank Rewards Earned:  Vantage (Mercenary mastery) Knightkneeler (Lance C) Playbill of a Melodrama

Classes Accessed:  Cavalier Lance Fighter Dancer

Classes Mastered:  Mercenary

[landsbluod]

regality. rebirth.

When the bouquet of lilies is handed to her, she has to laugh. It isn't often that she is associated with anything but roses, but on this night, she finds she doesn't mind the divert, finds it fitting - especially with the outfit that she has picked, it feels almost divinely accorded.

She takes a step into the ball room, commanding without necessarily meaning to, and while she finds herself on no one's arm she can of course be found milling occasionally around her daughter and her dearest friend. This is a festival for the living, and Lachesis is determined to find the spark of hope and love that they all so desperately need.

[ WEEK ONE PROMPTS ] [ WEEK TWO PROMPTS ]

Rose: Berkut, Wolf, Elffin, Kurt

Orchid: Finn, Lene, Azura, Bernadetta, Nanna, Flayn

Lily: Celine, Hilda, L'Arachel

Hyacinth: Estel, Ronan, Clair, Miriel, Petra

Tulip: Tsubaki, Niamh, Dorothea, Travant, Tamamo, Deirdre

(NOW WITH FIT ART BENEATH THE CUT - THANK YOU KUNO :pien::pien::pien:)

[lobeiro]

@landsbluod sent:

[ CORN ] - A new strain of corn has been bred in Bergliez with a curious trait—it pops when exposed to heat, becoming light and fluffy! Help yourself to a bag; it's a little bland on its own, but you get the feeling you could find something to spice it up.

"The texture is rather curious, isn't it?" Kurt remarks on the strange little snack to someone else who had come by the refreshment table. "I have had a few dishes with corn it in since coming to this land, but the texture is completely different here. If I hadn't been told its name, I would have a hard time believing it's the same food based off texture and appearance alone."

Still, if there is one aspect alone that makes it hard to deny that this must be corn, it's that frustrating insistence on getting stuck in your teeth. This is a party filled with noble lords and ladies, so it's not like one can just stand in front of the refreshment table picking their teeth either. It's a clever little politeness trap that you must either bear with for the sake of socializing or use as an excuse to free yourself from awkward conversation.

In other words, the innovations of Bergliez might actually be quite impressive.

Either way, when Kurt stops to actually take a look at his conversation partner, he is startled to find a deceptively familiar face. Her hair is longer and there is slightly less of the roundness of youth to her face, so it is unlikely to be the same person unless somehow years passed in a matter of months and he hadn't been aware.

"Pardon me for asking, but do you happen to have a sister or a cousin here? I have a classmate that I met on the most recent expedition that looks strikingly similar to you." Once again, his words had come out stranger than he intended, so he rushes to explain further. "The hair accessory she wears reminded me on my fiancée, so her appearance stood out in my memory."

[landsbluod]

The treat itself was remarkable, something that she had seen achieved more often with spun sugar confectionary for the most extravagant of noble feasting table centerpieces, something to be admired rather than to be consumed - and for a brief instant upon learning of its nature, Lachesis had borne that prejudice for it. But then, as she and others had been encouraged to eat, eat, as much as you like! and seen it spilling over the sides of its mechanism, there had been less a projection of luxury and pristine abstinence, and more of the raucous excitement to enjoy a tangible and real thing.

She smiled at the young man, talking through his feelings on it, and Lachesis popped another few pieces into her mouth, allowing it to melt on her tongue.

“The flavor by itself is not so special - “

“You’ve gotta put the butter on it, miss. Here - you too, young sir?”

The attendant had a rough quality to their voice, and the hands reached without being invited, dousing their bags in a liquid so golden she thought it nearly made of salt and light itself, before handing it back.

Lachesis nearly commented on this - on all of it, the presumption, the new taste, the whole affair - before the question hit her, and she turned with a blink, a slow smile dawning on her face before reaching her brows, lifting toward her hairline.

“You know my Nanna? Yes! She is my daughter - oh, tell me, do you spend much time with her? It is rare that I speak with a friend of hers - we have a close family unit, but of outside connections -” A laugh, not self-conscious, but self-aware.

“My name is Lachesis - I apologize, my manners. Please, and a lily - for your time?”

[landsbluod]

[ COFFEE ] - More specifically, a mocha brewed with Almyran coffee beans and Dagdan chocolate and served with hot milk. A sweeter variation of the drink taking Fódlan by storm.

(though if you take a sip...it'll probably taste like those dunkalattes with 15 pumps of caramel and 20 spoons of sugar. courtesy of her magic)

"What a weird thing to serve at a ball."

It had been the promise of something warm, to stave off the chill, something rich and thick, a blanket in a mug that would nevertheless keep her alert for the remaining hours of the dark night. When she had accepted the tasse of dark liquid, Lachesis had certainly assumed that this would indeed be the case in truth, and she had smiled warmly, as though soaking in its ambience before partaking.

The first sip was not so bad.

The second was of confusion.

And then by the third, the words that the young woman had said sank in, and she felt the pain of the sweetness in her teeth, setting her instantly on edge as she very nearly jerked, frowning down at it.

“Goodness!” The exclamation was one of frustration, but attempting to look for the vendor who had given out such an offense seemed fruitless, the person no where in sight - and if she thought, she could not even recall their features, but for a crescent smile.

“What a foul thing? Were you misled as well?” Her mouth felt coated and muddy, and she smacked her lips in confusion and irritation, shaking her head and setting the mug down. “We should not have to drink this. Perhaps it is to someone’s taste, but it is not mine. If you’d like, I could fetch us a pot with tea, or a champagne - anything to wash the taste out.”

[landsbluod]

[ SNEAK ] - The Goddess Tower was a no-go before, but with flashy distractions at a high and visibility at a low, now is a better opportunity than you will get the rest of the night. The monastery staff have promised a very unforgiving punishment for those caught in forbidden grounds, but that only goes for those caught, right?

Miriel's eyes light up in recognition as she calmly calls out "Lachesis" in the middle of the ballroom floor. Gently taking hold of Lachesis' arm, Miriel nods, face teeming with ripe curiosity.

Whispering, "Would you like to peruse that tower they so curiously have under supervision? I am most intrigued by what it is they keep in there." Miriel unsheathes a hyacinth from her bouquet; "I will provide a flower in exchange for any assistance in settling this curiosity of mine."

“Miriel.” Lachesis’ greeting is equally warm, as though shared between old friends of respectable means and not the trauma bond shared by two who had overcome something more ridiculous than any fairy-tale.

Perhaps their own adventure could have been a comedy, if there had not been so much horror. Would such a horror-comedy even be entertaining?

She took the hyacinth and extended a lily of her own, turning her gaze toward the Goddess Tower thoughtfully.

“To hear it told, they do not keep much of anything within, except for their belief.” She had heard different versions of the tale, but they had all been rather the same - that the point was to get within, not to see what was there, but to be that much closer to the Goddess’ love.

Still, if Miriel wanted to sate her curiosity.

“Shall I lead the way once more? I do not expect that whatever they have put within to keep a person out would be much of a challenge to dispatch, in some manner or another.”

[landsbluod]

[ MOVIE - ROMANCE ] - A techno-magical reproduction of a star-crossed romance between two lovers not meant to be.

"That was truly quite the tale, would you not agree, Princess Lachesis?" L'Arachel asks with starry eyes.

"Two star-crossed lovers, not meant to be due to their families, why, it is such an applicable story my heart cannot help but wonder if it happens all around us! With humans, with animals, why, imagine, maybe even ornaments on one's castle grounds could have a romance like that as well!"

The performance was truly a lovely one, made all the more impressive with its enormity, casted onto the sidewall with whatever enchantment that had allowed it to exist in the first place, and with such splendor that she was left momentarily breathless. It was not merely the screen which grew massive, but all of the emotions that had seemed stoppered up within grew proportionally.

She had thought of it as a story, once upon a time, until once upon a time had become all the time, and the story had become something less that was told and something more that she kept secret, tugged and tucked into dark crannies of some foreigner’s castle - and not so secret, something that shone from her eyes vibrantly every time they had locked eyes across the battlefield.

When the lights rose, she found that she needed to blink, more than once, to clear her vision of the misty veil that had appeared over her mind, and Lachesis cleared her throat, dabbing fingertips to the corners of her eyes before she turned to face her companion.

“What a fanciful tale you spin - ornaments in one’s household? Perhaps they too will protest their conditions, and a princess of cutlery will emerge to speak for them,” she added with a little laugh, patting L’Arachel’s arm as they rose to file out of the room. As she did so, she tucked the stem of one of her lilies into the girl’s bouquet, and replaced it with one of L’Arachel’s own.

“Or perhaps the linens - what a fine gown that princess could fashion of herself.”

[landsbluod]

[ PHOTO-ARTIFEX ] - The ever-popular photo-artifex makes its annual return, allowing users to capture pictures in as little as a flash of light and a moment. Take home something to remember the event by!

The flash of the light surprised her enough that she gave a startled little Oh! in the middle of their otherwise lovely conversation. She had only met the young man the once, months ago in a similarly superficial manner, though what specifically it entailed she could not precisely recall. He was of friendly enough demeanor that conversation started easily - how was your night, to the sky is so clear, to what is that constellation called where you call home?

Lachesis must not have noticed that she had let her guard down so easily, that a smile would affix her face so freely, but the operator of the photo-artifex was a skilled and quick hand connected to a sharp eye, and she blinked away the dots of light that evidenced this fact.

“Pardon, I don’t believe I was ready.” It wasn’t said with any malice, but it held an edge of sharpness that made the photographer smile in apology, tugging the resulting photograph out to shake, and to show them.

“Better if you don’t know it’s coming,” they said earnestly, then lifted the artifex once more. “Unless you’d like to do a silly one?”

[landsbluod]

bro don't you know orchids are a symbol of :joy: get with it

[sacrificialspear]

She falters. She falters, and Finn braces to catch her, even though he isn't sure what fall he's catching her in.

Because he doesn't know. There's so much of her life that he doesn't know, and yet it translates to so little for her, and all of it falls out of step anyway. There are years of his life that she will never understand in her absence, and years of hers that he will never understand in turn.

But she looks at him as she always had; stubborn, determined, with a fire in her eyes that burned strong enough to make up for the absence of any of in his.

She looks so much like her daughter in moments like these.

Finn doesn't laugh, but his exhale can be interpreted as she wished. "A moment then." And if a moment becomes another, becomes another, becomes another...the he can only thank his luck that he has that moment at all.

end

[landsbluod]

okay now to the left. no. my left.

[of-ostia]

The verbal blow landed in a familiar place inside him. No, he wasn't the man he needed to be yet, couldn't continue rely on using his body like a wall. But when Lachesis put it that way, well. It's not that he'd found any of those missing pieces of him on this dance floor, exactly, but perhaps this too was a fight he could learn from.

So when Lachesis lunged, Hector jumped backward—jumped too far, and collided with another dancer, staggering after they shove him off them.

"Just—" Hector paused to throw his cape back behind him. "Just warming up." Arms up and between himself and the blade, Hector's hunched back and blazing stare was now less of a princess's and more of a grappler's.

But on her next strike, he didn't dodge far enough. The sword snagged his shirt, would have sliced clean through it if it weren't a ceremonial blade, the thrust popping off one of his gilded buttons instead.

"Bah. It's these shoes." Kicking away the button, Hector beckoned, rocked on the balls of his feet. "Try me again."

[landsbluod]

Lachesis made a thoughtful humming sound as she circled him, waited for him to get his bearings. “Perhaps the shoes, perhaps the buttons, or the doublet, or the lights in your eyes,” she offered, softly taunting. “Do you put so much stock in your appearance?”

She suspected that he did not, but that he thought it mattered - or rather, that he thought it was so different to be capable and to be presentable.

A delicate snort, before she lunged another step, striking at the tips of his elbows before spiraling just out of his path once more.

Eldie would not need to make such excuses.

The tilt of her lips became wistful. Indeed, Eldigan would have performed all dances to a degree of perfection that she suspected none other in the room would have had the ability to see, merely to feel that his presence was there, and that would have been enough.

“Your back foot is weak - is that because of the shoes as well? I suppose it’s for the better that I am the lead for this number.” Another laugh, though gentler.

[florages]

[ GOSSIP ] - For those who don't want to be the center of attention, sitting on the sidelines and observing those who do is a time-honored tradition. Exchanging thoughts with another while doing so is a rite of passage for a student—it is a slightly worse look for the staff to take part.

Céline coolly watches as a brunette haired woman flits about from person to person, attempting to offer what seemed to be... mint candies?

"Poor thing." She says to Lachesis, "I cannot possibly fathom why she seems so desperate to be rid of them. It appears to go beyond a mere distaste of sweets..."

Humming, she lightly sips her drink.

@landsbluod

[landsbluod]

Lachesis’ gaze hardened to follow Celine’s, and she swirled the water in her glass as the other spoke, silent and stony.

“Indeed,” she allowed, after a beat. “It does seem particularly excessive - one could merely refuse a gift, I suppose, but to make a public spectacle of attempting to pawn it off onto another is…absurd at best.”

She had other words, far less kind, roiling in her head, still steaming at the interaction with the girl, and worse with the puffed up wyvern who called himself her father. When she wanted to think of Altena, she had wanted to think of Quan, of Ethlyn, of her dear friends who had sacrificed all - or even of little Leif, who had not grown to be so callous.

A sigh, shaking her head. She knew she was being uneasonable, but there seemed no end to the blaze that kindled to think of it all - it wasn’t about the mints, it was everything added to a sum greater than any child should be forced to hold to account.

And yet.

“I would offer you a mint, princess Celine, if there were a tray nearby. We could all use some sweetness for our tongues this evening.”

[petalblight]

landsbluod approaches.

[ SHADOW ] - An intense tango that celebrates the diversity of desire. Incorporates sharp, rhythmic movements that shift effortlessly from dependence and independence on one's partner, intimate closeness and playful distance. The result is a dance that looks almost as much a competition as it is a collaboration.

THIS IS HIS MOMENT OF TRUTH: His first dance of the night! Tsubaki's heart thunders in his chest; five months of accumulating practice rears its head over this decisive moment. A testament to genius as the violin introduces the song with a escalating cry. He won't make an utter fool of himself tonight—- Not today! Not in front of his daughter, colleagues, and students!

The routine begins with a sultry saunter as the two figures circle one another, their gazes locked. The concerto band starts as a mellow hum as the pairs approach in wordless challenge. Tension builds as they prowl, then the strings escalate. The pairs collide as the blonde woman twirls into Tsubaki's arm; he knows to guide her. His arm at her back, he keeps with the tempo. Anxiety melts into anticipation: he can do this.

"Your name?" Tsubaki asks once sharp movement nestle her briefly to his chest. He hopes the faint blush on his cheeks isn't too prominent: he has never danced in close proximity to another before.

@landsbluod

[landsbluod]

The music had all the verve of a cat approaching a bird, the thrum of it alive with a vibrating pulse and keen that hearkened to mind a predator with prey, although the man before her was no finch. She wasn’t sure if the smile she gave was reassuring, or intimidating, but he put his all into the performance regardless.

It could be the flash of the lights or the stars in their eyes, but she had to laugh at the rise of heat on his cheeks, a flounce of skirts and an ambling gait away, disaffected until the moment of crescendo where there was nothing for it but to allow the motions of their breaths to come as one - 

And then the lights dropped, refocused, and the spell was broken.

When Lachesis laughed again, it was a gentler sound, warmer and less challenging.

“Yes, I suppose after such a performance I should at least give you that,” she admitted with a chuckle like strung bells. A curtsey, demure in sharp contrast to the ways they had moved mere moments ago, and proper in every form for a lady of her station. “I am Lachesis, of Nordion. And what a pleasure it has been, to make your acquaintance. You may have my lily, if it please you - though I would rather, perhaps in a moment, have another dance.”

[landsbluod]

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

[landsbluod]

@oflowersandlight, cont from here

The step back of her partner seemed in time with the strike of strings, not a swell, nothing so gentle, and the dance had begun.

“Is it so difficult?” 

There was as little self-doubt in her own voice as there had been in her partner’s - for all that she indicated the desire to be led, it was in so doing that she prompted their pace, a lead on its own. She had no need, nor desire, to be a domineer for control, not with this one - they had been like-minded enough in the crystal caves, and in their brief interactions outside of it, that when one stepped back the other prompted to step forward, adn vice versa, neither entirely encroaching the other’s space, nor ceeding.

“I have done waltzes all my life,” Lachesis said, fingers featherlight against Poe’s waistline, the fabric of her suit beneath her fingers to alert her to the slightest shift in her partner’s movements, her breath.

A smile, despite the fact that Poe could not hear it.

“I have been told that I’m quite difficult to lead. I suppose I would not know. Perhaps for our next dance, you could confirm this - a spin here, I believe.”

It was all the warning that she gave; that and the tilt of the wrist in her other hand, lifting overhead so that she could guide the other woman into a spiral before tugging her back into grip.

"Well done.”

[landsbluod]

bro don't you know orchids are a symbol of :joy: get with it

[sacrificialspear]

"Because there is no one here who has been waiting their entire life to spend time with me." Obviously. Her daughter is here. Her nephew. People who have loved her despite her absence and would no doubt adore her presence. "It will make no difference to anyone's nights whether or not I make an appearance in it."

Finn sighs and allows his weight to shift back on his heels as Lachesis rounds on him once more. The poor attendant...that whole device is going to be filled with them arguing before he's able to shuffle them along for others to partake. His eyes roll upwards and linger for a moment before he looks to her again.

"I want to capture you." Dancing, arguing, smiling, none of it particularly matters to him. But he wants to capture her alive. Moving. Proof that if for only a moment, there was a potential of a future worth looking for in front of him. "In the case that one day we do return and you..."

And you do not.

He's never been one for dancing. Sparring suits them both better, but he hardly imagines that that's something they can do here. He frowns silently as he considers her before untangling his arm from hers. With her hand free, he takes it in his and lifts it up enough that he can press a kiss to the back of her knuckles.

"You can strike me if that is what makes you happy...or anything else. I just ask for a moment longer."

[landsbluod]

I want to capture you.

In spite of herself, Lachesis stiffened, felt the tip of sand beneath her feet as the hand gripped her wrists, her elbow, her waist, and she saw the twist of faces surrounding her that flickered in and out with the scorch of the sun overhead before she allowed herself to remember that this was a ballroom, that the ground beneath her feet was polished stone and that the warmth of the light came from candles, and not the desert.

Finn’s words had only washed over her, almost gently, vibrating as though they had traveled a great distance to find her - but he had not, not yet.

She took a sharp breath in and expected sand to fill her lungs and a scream to release, but instead it was simply the same thin mountain air, crisp from the cold of the night, and bubbling infectious with the vivacity of the event.

Her face trembled from its mask of shock, the pinch in her brow tightening before she found that her fingers had tightened also, around his.

“You are mistaken.” On several counts, but scant few of them mattered more than;

“There is at least one here to whose night you have made, and will ever make, an indelible effect.”

Her grip shifted, allowing him to raise from the kiss he placed at the back of her hand, but still refusing to relinquish the steady and grounding feeling of her hand in his.

“You do not need to ask so many times. You have a moment, and you may always have a moment of my time. Longer. You have earned certainly that much.”