𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

black eagles instructor ivy. closed & affiliated with the officers academy

[lindwyvrm]

#lindwyvrm: black eagles IVY of 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖒 :   𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐆𝐄. closed & affiliated with THE OFFICERS ACADEMY. beloved by byun.

ivy is taken one year after the events of fire emblem: engage. after her coronation and setting elusia back onto the path towards prosperity, she sets off for fódlan to teach as a form of practice for queendom. the duty of watching over elusia in her absence has fallen to lindon & a court she handpicked for the occasion.

due to her experiences, ivy will recognize muses with emblem counterparts — and be a little surprised that they are, in fact, real and tangible people.

ivy has experienced the events of the fell xenologue and has knowledge of its events & characters met in the alternate elyos.

i write ivy as have reached a-support with characters that have a support chain with her. should anyone want this changed, please reach out to me and let me know.

credits. all artwork & graphics are official material or created by me unless stated otherwise mobile navigation. muse ✦ mun ✦ stats ✦ interview

[lindwyvrm]

[ GODDESS TOWER ] He's not going to complain about the job, but that doesn't mean he isn't curious. The amount of security devoted to this one location seems a bit excessive.

"Ivy." If a familiar face happens to be passing by, he may as well ask. Offering a nod in greeting, the bowman casts a glance over his shoulder at the tower he's helping to guard. "...Did something happen here last year? This seems excessive."

The air in the hall had become a tad stifling, and Ivy breathes in a grateful lungful of crisp, fresh air as she steps outside, silver moonlight shining softly upon her face. She wanders down the path, enjoying the night breeze, when she spies a familiar face and makes her way over.

“A rather dour night for you, to be away from all the fun,” she remarks dryly as she approaches. She glances up at the Goddess Tower looming over them. A small smile tugs at her lips.

“Ah, the Goddess Tower?” she says. “Hmm, I cannot say myself—I am not so attuned to the happenings of this monastery as I would like to be. If I had to wager a guess, perhaps the Church has gotten tired of sweethearts sneaking up the tower and desecrating the goddess’s good name with a bit of impropriety.”

She laughs brightly. “Mind your post, now, I hear lovebirds are a fierce sort of enemy.”

[lindwyvrm]

[ 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.

The usual strings and winds of the band fade away, and a strong line of hand-drumming rises in their place. Mauvier catches familiar eyes, like spinel in the snow.

"Queen Ivy," he calls softly, taking in the resplendence of her dress, her hair, her jewelry. She drips with elegance, and in the time since Mauvier had last seen her, she's certainly grown into the countenance befitting of a reigning monarch. "It's wonderful to see you. May I have the next dance?"

“Of course, Mauvier,” Ivy says, voice full of warmth as she places her hand in his and allows him to lead her onto the dance floor. It is a fast dance, Ivy’s full, voluminous skirts brushing against his shins as they whirl around each other, the hem fluttering over his shoes as they dance within the same space.

“The feeling is mutual,” she says, smiling as her cheeks flush with exertion. “It is truly good to see you again, I feel as though an eternity has passed since I’ve seen you last.”

They spin and spin about each other; after a few more breathless minutes, the music fades, and Ivy is left breathing hard. Her hand comes up to ensure that her hairdo hadn’t come askew.

“Here,” she says, holding out a rose to him. “A token of my favor. Hopefully you’ll come see me again soon—it’d be nice to have tea.”

[lindwyvrm]

[ LYTHOS ] - A complicated dance performed by Lythian clerics, incorporating the choreography relayed to the former Divine Dragon Monarch by tales and demonstrations from pilgrims of the main four nations on Elyos as well as those from the Emblems. It requires mastery and control of tempo changes and willingness to move one’s body in many different ways.

(Being from Elusia, Alcryst is curious if Ivy grew up learning this dance like he had. Though maybe that's presumptuous... still, he tries to be a good partner for her through this dance.)

It is a dance Ivy has only read about in dusty old tomes, snuck into her bedroom and read by sputtering candlelight, finger tracing the faded ink as she tried to envision what the steps to such a dance might look like.

Alcryst asks Ivy to dance and she happily obliges, though she struggles to recall the steps she had read about all those years ago. Alcryst’s feet are swift and sure, and it is evident that he has dancing these steps all his life.

“You dance well,” Ivy says with a smile as they spin around to face each other. It would be diligent of her, she thinks, to form a rapport with Alcryst, given how things are going with his brother. “There must be a lucky lady back in Brodia who had the honor of practicing with you.”

Another turn passes, Ivy’s skirts whirling about her ankles. Her back is to him, and then she faces him again, before the steps call her once more to turn her back.

“We ought to familiarize ourselves with each other,” she says hurriedly, in the small frames of the dance of which they can see each other’s faces. “Since we—er—are to be seeing each other more, now that things in Elyos have quieted down…”

…and since I started kissing your brother in dark hallways. She keeps that bit to herself.

[lindwyvrm]

[ 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.

“It is rather uncouth, you know,” Ivy chides, though her eyes are crinkled in half-moons of mirth as she leans back against the pillar, a flute of champagne held loosely by the tips of her fingers. “Gossiping. Especially for us—aren’t we to be setting an example for our students?”

Nevertheless, Ivy leans in towards Yunaka, voice pitched low. She understands, now, why her mother tended to carry a hand fan with her always—the perfect cover for unseemly whispering, right in the palm of your hand.

“What it is you’ve heard?” she asks, eyes wide and curious, brows arched high. Gossip is beneath the queen of Elusia, of course, but it was an indulgence Ivy could never really shake. Information was power in the court, but now that habit has just fed into a silly pastime for Ivy. Strange, how far removed she has become from that life.

“I must confess, I do not have my ear pressed too closely to the happenings of things around the monastery,” she says. There was a number things that had occured that had completely flown over Ivy’s head, so preoccupied she is with her own day-to-day goings; she feels as though there is many a significant event that has happened completely without her knowing. “So I am a rather poor font for gossip. Perhaps a trade?”

Ivy spins her a rose between delicate fingers, eyes alight with a rare mischief. “A flower for yours? And perhaps you could be so kind as to give me a bit of gossip as well…”

[lindwyvrm]

[ FLOWER ARRANGEMENT ] - No matter how many flowers you gather, your bouquet won't look its best unless you have the skill to make it so. A couple of students have taken upon itself to imbue their peers with the knowledge of flower language and the art of flower arrangement, and as a result the garden has become something of a workshop.

(aka what if you got a flower that was SO fitting to you and they gave me the flowers named after your dad and my nemesis—) He knew very little about flowers, or their language. The farthest Diamant's knowledge went were lilies and roses, maybe daisies. Alfred and the others from Firene always carried an abundance of blooms on their person, but the Brodian never thought much of them beyond their beauty, and how such things were unsuited to one like him, forged in fire and warfare.

His finger traces the edge of the hyacinth in his bouquet, and as he often found himself doing with Ivy, he voices his inner thoughts easily, without prompting.

"I know there's a language to flowers. But it never occurred to me that these... hyacinths... had meaning. Or that they were even flowers." Just a man. A man who took something precious from him, yet was dear to the person of his heart—a man he found sad and pitiful, hardly even worth his rage anymore.

But for her...

"Could you tell me what they mean?"

He meant everything. He was a man who loved and raised her. Who was once her heart.

Fate, Ivy finds, has something of a sense of humor. She wonders what small twist upon the loom of destiny could have led to this—a rose for Ivy, and a hyacinth for Diamant.

A small, sad smile touches Ivy’s lips as she looks at the flower in his hands, at the way his fingers carefully trace the edges of the blue petals. So gentle, so reverent, it is hard to think that once he rallied to kill the man who bore this flower’s name.

“It is easy to forget,” she agrees, “I never thought of the word to be anything more than my father’s name.”

She still does. As a girl, she found it hard to believe that her father had been named for the blossoms and not the other way around. In the golden light of her youthful memories, he was the sort of man eras were named after, nevermind flowers.

“I am not as versed in their meanings as I ought to be,” Ivy admits, a mite bashful. She had studied it a little, mostly at court and then a bit more at the academy, but her mind was set on other, grander pursuits. “But I remember the meaning of these easily enough, if only because they have my father’s name.”

She points. “Hycaniths can represent a myriad of different things. Jealousy and resentment, for one, so you’d best be wary if you ever receive a hyacinth of the golden variety.”

A teasing mirth dances in her eyes as she loops her arm through his, leaning her cheek against his shoulder. They are matching, she with the fur on her sleeves, him with the fur on his mantle. It is soft to the touch, and smells of him. 

“White hyacinths represent thoughts of others in their purest form—well wishes, felicitations, that sort,” she continues, “pink ones symbolize joy, and blue ones like the ones you have there…”

She reaches out to pinch a petal. “...mean sincerity, loyalty, and and fidelity. Fitting for you, isn’t it? I do not think anyone else more loyal and sincere than you, Diamant.”

She leans against him more. “Though the meaning that will never leave me is of which purple hyacinths represent. Forgiveness.”

Her father had so favored purple. It was in the clothes he wore, the strands of her mother’s hair, in the covers of books he’d give to Ivy and the ribbons he’d give to Hortensia. So many wrongs done, it is almost incomprehensible.

She turns up to look at Diamant. “Though surely you know what roses mean?”

[lindwyvrm]

Both her gowns this year and last were centered around roses, Ivy thought wryly as she smoothed out her skirts. It was of a different cut to the dresses Ivy usually favored; unlike the close and flowing dresses that clung to the cinch of her waist and curve of her hip, this gown was structured, with voluminous skirts of red silk and velvet that bloomed out like the petals of a rose. The neckline was embroidered with gold, a sprawling line of shimmering roses that encircled her bosom. Her bliaut sleeves hung long, hemmed in fur. Resting at the hollow of her throat was another wreath of golden roses, bleeding rubies from their thorns, and pearls hung from either ear.

Her hair, usually styled down and straight, had been twisted in a half-do resembling a rose in bloom, curled lightly. A net held some of her hair at the crown of her head, studded with with ruby roses accented in gold.

Queenly enough, she told herself before she entered, checking her reflection once more. She pinched her cheeks to bring some life to her pale skin, bit her lips to make them as red as the red roses she carried in hand. A rose in bloom, the first one after a winter thaw...

tracker ...

ROSE(S):

ORCHID(S):

LILY(IES):

HYACINTH(S):

TULIP(S):

[lindwyvrm]

"Ivy!" With envelope in hand and a box in the other, Alear jogs up alongside her companion, beaming up at her with unabashed joy. It's always nice to have time to enjoy each others' presence, but now... it's for a special occasion! "It's your birthday, right? I'd never forget," A light laugh accompanies her as she stops to press the small box into Ivy's hands. Her index finger taps lightly against the top of it, envelope still held in her other hand. "I did some digging and found someone in the markets who had some ingredients from Elusia, including the really popular jam. So... I got some help and made the cookies you always liked!" Truth be told, it was complete coincidence that she found the right ingredients-- a welcome one, nonetheless. "As for this....!" The envelope is extended to her, and once it's taken, Alear clasps her hands behind her back. "There's a quaint little seaside town not too far from the monastery. I've heard it's a great place to relax: not too hot, not too cold. There's a few tickets for a boat ride in there, so you're free to take whoever you'd like! They've got other stuff there, but I doubt you'd be interested in the fishing." With her mission complete, she steps in to provide her with a gentle yet swift hug. "Happy birthday, Ivy...! Thank you for being my friend- now, and always!"

Alear’s presence is, as always, pleasant and welcome.

Ivy slows her steps to a stop as the Divine One bounds up to her, bright and smiling. She extends her arm, motioning for Alear to take it.

“Good day, Divine One,” she says with a soft smile. “Your care truly knows no bounds. All this for me? You should not have gone out of your way…”

But she takes the proffered gifts. It feels a little odd, accepting things from her goddess. Should it not be the other way around? But Alear’s smile is so bright it is nearly blinding, and it is her birthday. Perhaps there are times for exceptions, as always.

“Thank you,” she says warmly, “truly.”

She can’t help the smile that pulls at her lips as she looks down at the box of sweets and the envelope atop it. She looks up at Alear.

“Would you like to join me, then?” she offers. “I could not think of anyone else I’d like to take such a splendid-sounding trip with, and the view, I am sure, will only be more beautiful shared.”

She takes Alear by the hand. “And I thank you, Divine One. May we have a long life filled with friendship, hmm?”

[lindwyvrm]

THE DRAGONS & THE LIZARDS

anniversary | +any skill

[aliberation]

For all the thousands of years she's lived (even if a lot of them she slept through).... this lesson isn't something Alear ever expected she'd be required to take. It certainly wasn't of her own volition, because it really wasn't necessary! At least, not right now! She didn't have any intention of indulging in these sorts of things with another, and honestly, such ... acts.... really didn't even cross her mind. Maybe it's because she's never had any sort of romance in the mix, or maybe she's just not interested as a whole? Either way! That's besides the point! "Oh... Ivy, I didn't think I'd be the only one here. I'm glad it's you teaching this, at least. That makes me feel a little better," She offers a smile, although it falters quickly when dual-toned eyes glance over at how many props Ivy seems to be setting on her desk; there's a moment of horror when she realizes that this might be way more in-depth than her mind is actually prepared for. There's nothing wrong with learning more about her body, of course-- in fact, that would likely be helpful. But... How is she not supposed to be at least a little flustered over this? Ivy is knowledgeable about pretty much everything, she knows... and the thought can't help but cross her mind: did she have personal experience with these sorts of things? A horrible thought to have about someone she cares about, and Alear quickly shakes her head to dismiss the idea entirely. "Oh! Um- I mean... I'm pretty sure we're the same." That's an assumption, of course; Alear's never seen a human woman in the nude, really. Nor has she looked at any sort of art or diagrams. "If I could actually transform, maybe the answer would be different? But to my knowledge..." Which is incredibly limited. "I-I think I... uh. Look like everyone else." She adds, in a much quieter tone. "... But I don't have anything concrete to judge by....? S-so I don't know!" The only other dragon that could answer any of her questions would be Nel or Rafal. Veyle's so young, she could never do that to her little sister. Nel...? She'd get answers, of course, but Alear would also die of embarrassment. Absolutely not. Rafal? Absolutely not.

@lindwyvrm

[lindwyvrm]

How does one even approach something like this?

“Right,” Ivy says quietly, suddenly finding the paneling of her desk very, very interesting. It should not be so difficult, she thinks. It is just lecturing. Teaching. In theory, it really is no different than her classes on magic or her lessons in flying.

It does not seem Alear knows very much about this either, or perhaps she is just playing the ingénue for Ivy’s sake. 

“Is there—” A faint pinkness dusts Ivy’s cheeks. Divinity, this is exceedingly difficult. She racks her head, wondering when this conversation was had with her. It came by ways of nursemaids and midwives, and later in more detail with her teachers in anatomy at the academy. It hadn’t been so difficult then, had it? She thinks of trying to do this with Hortensia before immediately banishing that line of thought.

“Before we begin in proper, is there anything you know already?” she asks. “Things that I, er, would not need to tell you.”

Truthfully, the less she has to tell Alear, the better they would all be for it.

[rigelprinceofdespair]

If I fall off, surely the ocean will break the fall

aphotic | flying +1

[rigelprinceofdespair]

When the mission came out, Berkut had almost smirked as he looked it over. Finally something worth his time. Dealing with an infestation of lowly pirates. A chance to test the training and experience he had gained in this new land. Naturally he had avoided wasting his time dealing with the crew and getting supplies.

When the chance had come to go on an early scouting mission, to see where the den of filth these pirates originated from may be, he had lept at the opportunity. Perhaps he would get lucky and even get to see some combat against them.

Yet what he had been less prepared for was the fact that apparently they would be flying to the destination. Not only that, but that he would be riding with someone who already had a mount. Wyverns and Pegasi were utter rarities back home. He had heard about the beasts of course, learned about them on the off chance that they would have gone to war with the nations of Archanea. Yet he had never personally been on one.

Still how different could it be from a horse?

As he made his way to the meeting point, Berkut could already see the beast. It did look quite impressive. The dark scales coating it's body, the armour its owner must have put on it. With a smirk he got closer, looking around for said owner before spotting her. For a moment he blinked... wait hadn't he seen her before? Some brief encounter during the ball right? Ah yes, the woman that had dragged him into that grotto before the weather had turned.

Recalling her position, he gave a respectful nod towards her. "Greetings Queen Ivy. It appears I have been assigned to join you in this scouting mission. I take it this impressive creature here is yours? I must admit we don't have these back in my homeland. Though they remind me of a few terrors."

@lindwyvrm

[lindwyvrm]

Ivy dips her head in a brief approximation of a curtsey as she approaches, leading Petal by her bit. She recognizes the young man waiting for her, though the memory of their short interaction of the ball has grown hazy.

It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission, nothing more. An excursion to learn the position of the pirates who had been terrorizing the crews that sailed these waters. Her fingers curl around the spine of the tome tucked into a satchel at her waist. Just in case. She’d like to avoid fighting altogether, if she could.

“Lord Berkut,” she greets. She strokes Petal’s maw, earning a pleased rumble from the wyvern. “Indeed, she is a stunning beast. I never thought she’d grow into something so beautiful—she was quite the vicious whelp.”

She glances up at him. She nods, withdrawing her hand, gesturing for him to give it a try. “Have you ridden a wyvern before? It is no different than riding a horse in my experience, though perhaps you ought to hold on a bit tighter than you would when riding a steed.”

From the same satchel whence she keeps her tome, she produces the map the sailors had drawn up, detailing the locations of the where the pirates are hiding.

“We’d best leave swiftly,” she muses, tucking the parchment away. “While the winds are favorable and the clouds are high in the sky, so that it may conceal us as we fly.”

She takes Petal’s reins. “After you. I’ll help you acclimate to the saddle before we take to the skies.”

[stormofembla]

➥ among us trap remix...

aphotic | the shadow god

[stormofembla]

Bruno is quick to shake his head; in his own tunnel vision, he had been only focused on his inattentiveness. "No, no... there is no need to apologize. As long as you are well."

Her mention of headaches puts him in pause, however. He balks, curiosity arising with questions pertaining to them, but finds time to avoid meeting her gaze with surprise wrought over his expression. A quick scoop to pick up the textbook from the ground, and he returns standing with a dismal nod.

"I have been having the same headaches as well," he admits, turmoil evident through pressed lips. "It is unrelenting pain that ebbs and flows — but I have yet to find any treatment that has worked. If someone else has found one," assuming they were hearing these damned voices too, "I hope to hear of it soon."

kill.

The book in his arms burns against his sleeves, and with it, a sharp pain. His shoulders tense; crimson stings the back of his eyes as they flutter shut; and it is clear that the command granted to him pertains to the woman standing ahead. Hands trembling with the realization that their time is limited — and dependent on fickle willpower — he rushes to his next question.

"Have those... headaches been accompanying voices for you?"

[lindwyvrm]

Ivy stares at the other man for a long, hard moment, unblinking. Her feet feel leaden, like she is rooted to the spot. Paranoia claws its way up her spine and into her head. How does he know? Her fingers twitch.

“...yes,” she says after a couple beats of silence. “Yes, they have. Have you…”

Her eyes trail over his face, the way he carries himself. There is a tension coiled there that Ivy knows he must see in her too. She tries to force herself to relax, but she feels it only makes her bring her shoulders up higher.

“It appears we may be suffering similar ailments,” she says wryly. “I had thought mine hereditary and I must say, I am more than relieved to find another suffering as I am.”

She winces. “...not that it is a good thing. I was going to make my way to the infirmary, but I doubt there is any common remedy for… this?”

She gestures to her head. A sharp, piercing pain burrows its way between her eyes.

She goes quiet. “Have you had… these before?”

[lindwyvrm]

Two knocks on Ivy's open office door and a nod. That's how Hector breaks the silence.

"I heard it's your birthday."

In his gloved hand, the one he used to rap at the door, he clutches a tiny tin, roses and thorns embossed into its surface.

"Tea. Shopkeep said this blend was good for relaxation." The point of this is to give the gift, but Hector waves the tin in his hand as he rambles.

"Not like there's much in the way of downtime around here, all these people showing up needing help on top of classes," he uses the tin to to gesture back at the hallway, then toward a window. "But at least the ground isn't crumbling away out here, right? So when you do get a quiet moment..."

Now he thrusts it at Ivy, already half turned to leave. In the quiet calm of her office, it seems almost silly now, the gnawing need he'd felt to confirm her safety for himself.

"...here."

It is a day of relative quiet for Ivy.

Her birthday had grown to become something of little consequence. She doesn’t mind it, really—she finds that she’s grown to prefer it. She had spent her morning teaching the next level of complexities of fire spells to her more advanced seminars, had a brief but indulgent lunch of an apple and cherry turnover from the dining hall with a warm mug of tea, and now she is whiling away her afternoon grading exams from her beginner sections.

A knock at her office door startles Ivy from the lull of her ordinary birthday. She opens it to find a man she cannot say she is very familiar with herself. Another instructor with the eagles—Hector, is it? The name comes to her after a long hard moment of soul searching.

She blinks in surprise but smiles at his gruff words that did little to hide the heart beneath and the tea in his hands. She takes the tin from him, turning it over in her hands.

“It makes the little time we can find for ourselves all the more precious then, hm?” she says. She opens the door a little wider. “Thank you for the gift. Would you like to come in and join me? I find a cup tastes so much better shared.”

[lindwyvrm]

NEVERENDING LIFE.

zombie apocalypse au.

[rafent]

Tension rolls from the edge of Rafal's hairline down his temple, skirts his unblinking gaze, rides the slope of his cheek, wobbles precariously along the edge of his jaw, his chin, then leaps uneventfully—finally—to the vinyl floor with a silent, infinitesimal splat. The itchiness it leaves behind is irritating, but he doesn't wipe away the snail trail of sweat, and he doesn't break his line of sight off the woman. He can't afford to.

On Rafal's wrist sits a watch that has long since stopped ticking. In Rafal's hand is a gun with no bullets. In Rafal's belly is a near total absence of food, with yowling insistence to be otherwise. He's running on fumes; sips of the last water, bites of the last food. But what comes after last? Everyone knows what comes after last.

"No point?" Rafal laughs unpleasantly. "I'll be the judge of that. Just drop it and go." He gestures with his gun toward his feet; the eyes above the barrel of his revolver are cold and unforgiving but there's a desperation to them, too. Perceptible if barely.

Desperation compels a man to go to any length, sometimes it's even healthy. Desperation fills out his skinny frame, turns the cogs of his mind even when there's no oil left to them, an inspiration and a dosage of liquid means that goes hand-in-hand with adrenaline. While a desperate Rafal still has his strength, he thinks of ways to make more of it; he thinks, he'll kill whoever he needs to if it means he can live. Do whatever he needs to. He tracks the gradual descent of that backpack to the ground and, despite himself, relaxes ever so slightly.

( but he's wrong to do that; it occurs to him, in the moment of windup,

. . .that there are others who think the same. )

"—Shit!" he hisses, leaping backward at the throw of the backpack. It doesn't make contact with his body at all. That's not important. The heavy weight glances off his gun and its element of surprise launches the weapon from his hand. It clatters against the wall and drops as loudly as a corpse.

That useless thing? Rafal doesn't even look at it as he dashes toward the knife on the floor between them. Her knife. The tips of his fingers kiss the handle. "Idiot. I'll carve you like a pig. You should have just walked away. Now you don't get to!"

[lindwyvrm]

The man goes for the knife, which makes Ivy swear because that means the gun he dropped is totally useless and she should’ve had the foresight to just run. 

She knows she is not very strong. She knows she is hungry and it makes her hands shake and her legs hesitate. But she knows he is hungry too and weak for it—why else would they be scrabbling over this stupid pack?

It all comes down to who wants it more.

His fingertips ghost over the handle. Ivy doesn’t bother to follow—she crouches low and pounces, springing at him as if she were leaping off a diving board. She drives her shoulder into his sternum, the momentum taking her down with him.

“In—your—dreams!” she manages through grit teeth, her face scrunched up with the effort of holding him down. She looks back at the knife and manages to kick it away with her heel, the blade skittering just a bit further. It’s still too close for comfort, but at least it’s not in arm’s reach anymore. “Are there more of you? Is someone going to come looking for you? Tell me!”

[lindwyvrm]

DECEMBER: PASSED

SKILL POINTS. 21 → 22

authority b+ → b+ (10)

INVENTORY AND MASTERIES

none

COMPLETED THREADS.

none

[lindwyvrm]

GOT A TASTE OF A GLAMOROUS LIFE.

anniversary | +faith

[aurelianwolf]

"Pathetic," Wolf agrees, his upper lip arcing with a faint curl of disdain. Laughable, even, how the aristocrat saw his weakness as a virtue and flaunted it to the world. He could not keep her by friendship or by loyalty, and so he thought to possess her -- a living being. The mercenary flexes his hand, a familiar frustration lingering in his fingers.

But the village is pleasant, at least; even 'pretty', as Ivy calls it, and while he declines to reply he finds the greenness of it all quite nice. Though...

"...The wind is still," he answers eventually, equal in tone. After all, it could very well mean nothing, but Wolf -- truant son of his motherland -- holds some small affection for all places the wind touches.

His heart beats in heavy silence here. No matter; he'd accepted the Academy's request, and he intends to fulfill it. Clever company isn't the worst stipulation, though. His gaze follows Ivy's as it rolls over the hills and bounces over the brooks, and finally, back to her.

"The villagers could give us a way in," Wolf begins. "They might also try to stop us. It depends on if they feel an obligation to him, or think we can best him." He'd seen plenty of doors open to Marth's army during the War of Heroes. It doesn't bear thinking about. "That's if they figure us out."

A pause. Remembering that they're dealing with a man who presumes to keep a living person, his voice darkens.

"...But it could be worth asking. Let's go." Maybe, just maybe, they'd have quite a lot to say.

[lindwyvrm]

Ivy looks up. He’s right—the air is completely unmoving; even so, the branches of the trees are swaying. She decides not to dwell too much on it, though it does little alleviate her unease.

She nods. “Let us tread carefully, then.”

They make their way to the center of the hamlet, where nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. Everything seems too ordinary even, at least to Ivy. Children play with wooden hoops, women hung linens that were blindingly white, men bustled about, looking busy and yet doing nothing at all. She feels the weight of half a dozen stares on them, boring into their backs.

“Charming little place,” she says mildly to Wolf, speaking loud enough to be overheard. “Just the place to rest for a few days, don’t you think?”

Her eyes flit about the square, across the faces of those gathered there, gauging who looked like they’d be the most receptive to speaking to outsiders. No one seems eager to meet her gaze; Ivy settles for a wizened old woman lingering perhaps a touch too close to her fence.

“Hello,” Ivy says, dipping her head in greeting. “My friend and I are travellers. We’d heard about a healer in the village and were hoping to see—”

The woman, her fingers stained green from crushing herbs, glared balefully up at Ivy.

“The Master sees no one without an appointment,” she says brusquely, cutting Ivy off. "And the Lady... the Lady is resting. She has given much of her spirit today to keep our wells full and our lungs clear. You would do well to move on."

Ivy turns to look back at Wolf, an expression of mild alarm upon her mien. She turns back to the herbwoman. “...the Lady?”

The woman sets her mouth in a tightline. Ivy hovers there for a moment more before she sighs, returning to Wolf. “They seem intent on protecting him.”

She looks up at the imposing manor house. She catches a flicker of motion in one of the windows, a curtain snapping shut. “What now then?” she murmurs. “I suppose we have little other choice but to try and get into the house ourselves and see this Lady…”

She gives him a small, mirthless smile. "So would you like to pretend to be deathly ill or should I?"

[fellsparks]

welcome to the rizz-carlton

modern au w/ @lindwyvrm and @dcggersedge

[dcggersedge]

"Oh, a hot tub sounds much better than a mud room." Ivy sits first, and Nel goes following after, so Yunaka claims whatever sliver of the seat she can. She to kind of awkwardly perch with her legs in the walkway to make sure she doesn't fall out, but she figures they won't be traveling far, so she can deal with it.

Spa trips were not the sort of thing the old man had bothered to take her to, and she doesn't remember her parents ever taking her to one either. Not that she knows what a kid would even do at a spa anyway. From what she's seen on TV of them, they don't exactly give off the impression of being kid friendly zones. "I'm down for whatever though. Miss Ivy's the expert, I'm just happy to be here for the trip!"

Just like she expects, the shuttle doesn't take long at all. The passing sights outside the windows are gorgeous, even if they never really leave the touristy area they've been dropped off in. Anything is beautiful after being stuck in the city for so long. When the shuttle pulls to a stop, Yunaka is the first to hop up to her feet and happily skip her way down the path, giving the driver a quick thanks on her way out.

The spa is bigger than she expected too. There's a little fenced off area off to the side where she thinks she can see a pool and people lounging, among other things, but it's blocked off just enough that she can't get a clear look, even when hopping up on her toes. Ah well.

Stepping inside leads them to an overly fancy lobby. A few quick conversations later, and they're ushered into a changing room with a set of the fluffiest robes Yunaka has ever gotten her hands on in her life.

"There as sooo nice." She announces to the other two, pulling up the robe to bury her face in it. She leans in with a playful grin and a whisper. "Do you think they'll notice if it goes missing?"

@lindwyvrm

[lindwyvrm]

Ivy lets out a soft trill of laughter, manicured fingertips steepled against her lips in an effort to stifle the sound. 

“They’re made for you to take,” she says, untying the silk tie of her dress to slip into her own robe. “Since the hot tub has two votes, shall we make that our first port of call? Come then, let’s see if there are more goodies for us to fill our pockets with.”

She sets of briskly down the hall; the ever-present tension knotted between her shoulders feels like it’s unraveling already. She cannot help but be giddy—though she’d certainly never admit it—about having Nel and Yunaka here with her. She’s been out and about with Hortensia before, of course, and nothing could ever replace her darlingest little sister, but there is something to be said about friends her age…

God, she needs to get out more.

“The water will help loosen our muscles before we decide on doing anything more tactile,” Ivy prattles off, gesturing towards the large wooden doors that lead to the thermal circuits. “We can peruse the menu while we’re there too, if any of you are feeling peckish. I, for one, could go for an glass of infused tea…”

Stepping into the heat of the thermal suite is like a warm embrace; the air is fragrant with the scent of eucalyptus, the heavy humidity making Ivy’s skin feel supple. She discards her robe with the practiced ease of someone who had grown up with assistants, but she lingers, waiting for Nel and Yunaka, before she eases herself into the bubbling water with a groan that seems to carry with it a week’s worth of tensions and burdens.

“Oh… this is exactly what I needed,” she mumbles, sinking down to her chin. She leans back heavily against the stippled stone wall, looking between Nel and Yunaka. “I am curious. Since we are officially on our 'sleepover'... tell me, what is the most 'normal' thing you’ve both always wanted to do on a trip like this? Beyond the fancy treatments, I mean. For me..." Ivy pauses, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. "I’ve always wanted to try one of those overly-decorated tropical drinks. The ones with the tiny umbrellas and far too much fruit. A bit moreish, but we’re here to have fun, no?”

@dcggersedge , @fellsparks

[heriteur]

a marriage of dream and deception

mission board: aphotic / opera prompt.

[heriteur]

For what was probably the third time in the last five minutes, Diamant smooths down his hair. As a departure from its usual wavy, windblown style, it's slicked back in a manner similar to his father's, kept down with ridiculous amounts of smoothing, hair oil, and a dream.

He wouldn't normally care if one or two strands were out of place, but his company for the night was a rather sharp and stylish woman, and the least she deserved was a companion who could meet her high standard.

...Not that Ivy really cared about that. Image was important to her, as it was to him, but the simple comfort in being together was enough to make one forget the burdens of royal decorum for a fleeting moment.

Even so, this was their first proper outing since the ball that wasn't a night in a dark cave, a short lunch or dinner, or an impromptu spot of tea between mountains of work. He wanted the occasion to be special... to feel special.

Diamant sighs, glancing up at the opera house that loomed before him. He supposes it didn't help that this would all be wrapped up in a mission, either.

The sound of steps on the pavement pulls him from his thoughts, and Diamant turns his gaze from the walkway of the opera house to the woman who approaches him on Enbarr's streets, breath hitching in his throat as he takes her in. She was stunning as ever—a vision more reverential than even the height of divinity.

"Well, well..." Lips curve into a smile, his arm offered for Ivy to take. Part of him hoped she would be impressed with his red suit; pressed to perfection and accentuated with Brodian gold leaf. "If it isn't my lovely wife, Lady Viola. Do you suppose this opera house is ready for the entrance of the Lord and Lady of Harsey?"

In other words, their cover for the night: Lord Ruben and Lady Viola Briarwood. A young wealthy couple from a small, nondescript foreign territory, their fortune procured through the trade of foodstuffs and medicinal herbs.

"What do you suppose the ship captain frequents this place for?" Diamant murmurs to Ivy as they walk up the stairs, "A fan of opera, coming to visit a songstress he fancies, perhaps...?"

Or, of course, something far more sinister. The man hasn't been seen by his crew for a day now.

Their job would be to find out why.

@lindwyvrm

[lindwyvrm]

A small, gentle ghost of a smile plays at the corner of Ivy’s lips as she watches Diamant fuss over his hair out of the corner of her eye. It’s cute, really; the stalwart, unflappable king of Brodia preening, worrying over his hair like a squire at his first ball—it warms Ivy’s cold, Elusian heart.

She looks impeccable as ever herself—really, it is more common for her to look like this than not. She has opted for a fur-trimmed thing this evening, the fabric so red it looks purple in the light, the drop waist embellished with a belt of gold. Her hair is pulled up and back, piled high on her head in a rather elaborate hairdo that bares the elegant slope of her neck for all to see.

She allows her gloved hand to settle onto Diamant’s arm, pulling him closer than she perhaps ought. “Well, they’ll have to be. I do not intend to dawdle any longer, lord husband.”

Ivy bites the inside of her cheek at that. For the briefest, most fleeting of moments, she toys with the idea of it—a pretty dream, for another time.

“A ship captain with a sudden taste for the fine arts,” she muses. “Perhaps there is a songstress he’s sweet on. A charming notion, isn’t it?”

They ascend the steps and walk into the grand lobby; crystal chandeliers overhead glow a warm amber, the air thick and heady with the mingling scents of perfume and smoke.

“Stay close,” she murmurs. “These halls are made to carry every whisper.”

Ivy scans the room with a look of practiced bored detachment, eyes roving over every face.

“You’d think a ship captain’d be easy to spot in all this glamor,” she mutters. “I don’t rightly expect he was sailing the seas in a frock coat and pointed leather shoes.”

She glances up at Diamant. “Perhaps we ought to meet our fellow members of high society, hmm, my dear?”