earth maiden;

O distant star, to the bright future you shine

Mission Board: Herald — Any +1

with milafaithful

She gives a smile. "It is. The Celica you know is still here, she's just agreed to take a backseat for now while we talk."

The compliment, however, catches her off guard, and Celica smiles sheepishly. "It's Queen now, actually. This battle armor was modeled after Zofia's. The Zofia, I mean. Zofia the First."

She adjusts the skirt of the dress, taking Silque's hand. "In truth, it's a lot to live up to. Zofia, Rigel — it's the first time ever that the continent has been unified like this. Since the before days of the Earth Mother and War Father, even."

The stone walls of the monastery open to verdant courtyards as Celica follows Silque to an open table. She finds an open seat across from Silque, giving the area an appreciative scan before turning her attention back to the sister's question.

"Well, to start... there are no pirates anymore." She gives a cheerful smile. "The people of the coast, and of Novis, can rest easily. The Brotherhood has done more than the old knights ever could."

"As for the Kingdom..." She tilts her head pensively. "I can't deny it's been rough at points. I'm not sure anyone was really ready for the unification. Many Zofians held me in the same regard as my father, and I can't blame them. The Rigelians saw only a Zofian and a witch."

She spreads her hands. "But that was in the past. None of what we have now would be possible without Alm. He's been working tirelessly right alongside the common folk to rebuild the land. You play no small part too." She nods. "At times I can tell his heart still yearns for the battlefield, but he has a way of rallying people, a gift for leadership that shines so brightly. I don't know what the Kingdom could do without him." She gives a wistful smile.

"Oh! We also figured out how to farm the land again." Celica leans in. "The soil and water were restored only a few short years ago. Sage Halcyon said that the fighting, the madness, was the cause of Zofia's drought. But the clerics at the Temple of Mila working with Halcyon as the new head of the Duma Faithful found a way to cleanse the land, and each year our harvests only grow. It seems to have been the Earth Mother's last gift to her children. Alongside some knowledge from Archanea."

The older Celica pauses, reflecting on the future past she had just described. "In truth, I don't know if the future I've come from — the future that I've described — is what is in store for this time, this Celica and this Silque. But your One Kingdom is just beginning, and the future is oh-so bright."

#thread: o distant star #rigainrokkr #waugh my valentians #(and yea i did chuckle did laugh FLSKDJHFLKSD)

“Can… can it really be?”

To stop her hands from shaking, Silque clasps them together as if in prayer. Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. She had never thought of herself as emotional, or a crybaby, or a worrywart. But to hear that such a wonderful future exists, for some Valentia, somewhere —

“I,” the cleric sniffs, “I’m so glad. You must have worked so hard, Queen Celica!”

Catching her friend’s hand in both of her own, Silque bids the queen to accept the compliment, because it doesn’t escape her notice that Celica had, naturally, neglected to spare a kind word for herself.

The birds chirp their merry songs as the cleric searches for words, struggling to regain her composure.

“…Of course I believe you.” An unwavering faith, through all else that had changed: that benevolent Mila will walk with Celica, and her Sir Alm, and all of their friends, always, forever, everywhere. “I know we can achieve the same, if we only try. There’s really no need to try and convince me, hehe!”

Still, a more studious lady would probably pull out pen and paper and ask actual questions of importance, like how can we help Rigel accept Celica as Queen, or what happened to the caves full of monsters, or even, can the Duma and Mila Faithful really come together as one? Things her more thoughtful friends would probably like to know about. But what Silque says instead is:

“Does that mean Sir Alm dresses like Rigel, the Rigel, these days? Oh, you two must make for such a dashing pair!” Without a free hand to hide the giggle, it spills from her freely. "I'm sure he was eager to get back to the fields, if not the battlefield. He never did seem the type to sit still and reign from up high."

And though the royal armor looks good on Celica, it really does, she adds, tilting her head, "And neither are you, I think. But you — or my Celica, rather — never really wanted to talk about it. What it meant to be Princess Anthiese of Zofia."

It's not like Silque really understands, but… “You know," surely it's okay to talk about Celica to herself! "Even at the fancy ball a few weeks ago, she chose to wear a simple white dress, like she was a simple village girl. Did something change, for you…?"

rigelprinceofdespair

Please ignore the smell of smoke and burning all around me... and the evil laughter.

mission board - herald - any skill+1

rigelprinceofdespair

"Where... where are you?" The call rang out in the forest. Stumbling through the bush, Berkut levelled his lance in the empty clearing. Where had she gone? "Rinea? Rinea! Please answer me!"

A mix of rage and desperation on his face, Berkut glared staring at the empty woods around him. In one hand, the spear was levelled, facing threats that could not be seen. The other held onto an orb, one that seemed to radiate with a malevolent purple light. "All my effort... why has it all been rendered useless?"

His vision was tinged with red, even as he looked around. A broken, disturbing, violent laugh was pulled from him, as he nearly broke down in the clearing. Clutching the orb, he glanced from side to side. "Where... where is he? I have to kill him. Even if Rigel is beyond my grasp, I won't let it fall into HIS hands!"

Eyes scanned the clearing... everything felt so foggy. His mind whirled with emotions. Rage, regret, disgust, denial. A never ending swell that left him feeling utterly unbalanced.

Then he heard it. A small rustle nearby. Without a care he turned instantly, lance at the ready. "Duma has granted me strength to rend this world asunder! Who dares to enter my presence?" The shout echoed in the clearing, even as his breathing was ragged, yet was followed by a mad, disturbing laugh. Violently torn from his throat once more.

#thread: please ignore the smell of smoke and burning all around me... and the evil laughter #rigelprinceofdespair #wreck her shit king :joy: watch me being forced to drop her in a week /j

The sound that tears through the woods is that of a wounded beast.

A laugh that whips through the air but rings hollow, with nothing of mirth or even humanity. Silque had heard many like it, not so long ago — empty mutterings from husks of what once were women, crackling into being from behind her turned back.

This voice, however, is not so feminine. And as stubborn as many of the clerics of the Faithful had been, none were bullheaded enough to continue demanding for… for anything, after their souls were torn away.

For a moment, all Silque can do is meet the lance's eye with her own wide-eyed stare. Knowing what she would find if she were to lift her gaze, follow the arm that holds the weapon up to the face of its wielder.

Dimwitted girl, surely the sisters would say, if they saw her now. How could you be so careless as to venture into the forest alone at night? Don't you know it's dangerous? But Silque could never quite find the words to explain that she did know. That there were some monsters only found in darkness, that some shadows were necessary to fight and face.

For where is Sir Alm? Where is Lady Rinea? Where is Duma? Does Berkut not realize that Duma has forsaken him, too?

If there is one thing Silque knows, it is that honorable Duma, in his prime, would have never granted his blessing to someone so foolish.

Silque steps into the clearing. "No one you need concern yourself with," she replies, Mila's light already emanating from her staff. "But do not sully the noble name of the War Father any further. Begone from this place!"

the promised land

silque + sue, ethereal ball 2026, continued from here

doeofsacae

It was… strange hearing about just how different Silque’s continent, Valentia, was from Elibe. It wasn’t a bad thing, Sue was very interested in learning about countries and continents that weren’t her own, but it really put in perspective just how small she was in the grand order of the world.

Sue nodded along as she spoke, engrossed in what the cleric was telling her, but right at the start something caught her attention—

The Earth Mother…

Though the names of their deities are similar, Silque’s Earth Mother was a dragon… not like there weren’t any in Elibe, but there weren’t any that anyone really worshipped.

It’s the opposite… almost all of Elibe’s dragons were purged.

Sue quickly pushed that thought aside though, she didn’t want to interrupt Silque’s explanation… but it wasn’t very long before she saw the light fade from Silque’s eyes and her once bright smile formed a frown—

That look didn’t suit her, she looked best when she was smiling…

—and the tone in her voice shifted to something more solemn as she explained what Sue could only assume was a sort of downfall for the people of Valentina.

But when Silque inquired about her people— asking if they had figured out a way to avoid succumbing to such greed, Sue didn’t have an answer.

#doeofsacae #thread: the promised land #and RIGHT into girl gossip more at 10 /lh #toaball2026

Oh. Oh no. It's Silque and her big mouth, that the sisters always said would land her in trouble! Now she's gone and ruined it. Allowed Sue's voice to go quiet, her frown fraught with bitterness.

It is important to see the beauty in struggle, Silque knows. But with the lilting music resounding through the hall, struggle feels so out of place. Like nothing terrible could ever happen to anyone.

But terrible things do, don't they?

So as the dancers dance on, cheerful and unaware, Silque tries to salvage the conversation the only way she can think of: with earnest entreaty.

"I am sorry. You and your people are not to blame for the sins of your enemies. There is a saying in new Valentia — for whatever madness lay in the hearts of gods, a darkness deeper still beats wild in the hearts of men." The cleric nods solemnly. "That is why, I think, those of us who survive must remain virtuous above all else. So we do not wallow in that same ruin and bring it upon others."

Such is the meaning of keeping vigil, of refusing to succumb to complacency. To guard against the world, yes; but also against the flawed heart that beats within.

"…And as for my homeland," Silque smiles once more, eyes crinkling, "Oh, Sue, you don't need to worry, not at all! Though benevolent Mila and mighty Duma have been laid to rest, and our soil lies barren in their absence, we still have hope for the future." The cleric looks away, searching for a familiar figure in the crowd.

She points. "Look."

At the end of her hand is a beautiful young woman, red hair cascading past her shoulders in elegant waves. The white dress she wears is not quite as intricate as Sue's deel, but no less true to her heart for its simplicity. "That's my friend Celica — or Princess Celica now, haha!" Silque still isn't quite used to that, to tell the truth. "She and Sir Alm, her — her boyfriend," a giggle, "are the heroes who delivered Valentia from evil. With their strength and the final blessings from the gods, there's nothing we cannot accomplish. I'm sure of it."

And their friends — the Deliverance, the Pilgrimage, will help with all their heart. Silque among them, of course, in whatever small ways she can.

The cleric shakes her head, her smile a little sly now. "Is there anyone you are rebuilding your tribe with? A — hee hee! — special someone, perhaps?"

our circus. our monkeys.

Silque and Alfonse, herald (gossip)

#thread: our circus our monkeys #princeofopenness #can someone tell her to shut up /lh #lmk if you want me to change anything!!

It is the mission of the Mila Faithful to deliver the good news. Before the war — that the Earth Mother walks among us, that she will bring salvation to every corner of Valentia. And after, when everything is over at long last — that her power still dwells within the soil, that the sibling dragons have given their people one final blessing, that united, mankind can stand strong against toil and trouble.

In short, the good news must be spread. Unfortunately, Silque has never understood what news qualifies as the good news. Or, really, is considered newsworthy at all.

“Hello, sir. Is anyone sitting here?” she asks the knight at the table. She sure hopes not, because that would mean the anyone in question is invisible, or a ghost! Setting her tray down across (who seems to be, at least) the lone diner, she allows herself one quick sip of tea, before launching into —

“Have you heard about the festival? At Baile?” the cleric may be aiming for conspiratorial, but it’s anyone’s call whether she lands on the mark. “Sister Maureen was telling me this morning that last time, there was a bullfighting ring. And Sir Seteth personally entered! He knocked out the bull so fast they had to get him a wyvern for the encore."

A breath and a sigh. "And then she said: my dear Silque, the bullfight is going to attract all sorts of strapping young men. You should be on the lookout and gobble one right up!”

The cleric shakes her head fondly, spinning pasta around her fork. Old women and their ideas, they're all the same. “I don’t know about that last bit," she giggles, "but it would be fun to see Sir Seteth wrestle a wyvern, don't you think?”

@princeofopenness

we live in a society

mission board: herald | announcing the town’s first “cat cafe”!

Valentia. He has not heard of this continent but he suspects that will be the case with many that he meets here. There is so much to the world outside of Elibe.

The bundle in her arms begins to move and out sprouts a tiny paw with ripe toe beans. He holds out his hands lest her efforts fail but she quickly regains control.

"A special customer indeed. I've heard that the cafe is taking in stray cats."

Silque reveals the kitten bundled in her arms in a mess of unruly fur and he cannot help but smile. "You would not mind?" He offers the kitten one of his fingers, to see if he will be accepted, and as soon as he draws near the kitten begins to bat playfully at his digit. His smile only widens.

"Where did you find your little friend?"

#of-pherae #thread: we live in a society #as a person who shares a house with a pot cat: they're fucking dumb /lh

"Of course I don't mind! He's not mine, after all." Really, if there was a more welcoming manner to present the kitty without dropping him again, Silque would do it. As it is, he's already playing with Sir Eliwood's hand like he's never seen fingers before.

Silque laughs openly, before dropping her voice into a conspiratorial whisper.

"In a pot! Can you believe it? An empty one, too, right there in the monastery kitchen this morning!" The cleric's shoulders quiver with mirth. "He's got so much fur that he probably would have survived the winter no matter what. Already knew to look for warmth, too."

Before the kitten decides to start going after his hand with teeth, SIlque swivels the bundle about, holding him out for Eliwood to take. "But he doesn't have quite as good a sense for food—" empty pot, the meat cellar entirely untouched— "and he's a little too trusting of strangers. Had me a little worried, to tell the truth."

gaslight girlboss the gatekeeper!

Silque and Ninian, herald (secret shop)

#ninisdance #thread: gaslight girlboss the gatekeeper!#imsorry for her rune :joy:

To tell the truth, Silque is beginning to feel a little bad about dragging Ninian all the way out here.

Out here being, well, the middle of nowhere. Yes, the grove is lovely, branches spiraling towards the dense canopy blanketing the sky; yes, she's delighted by the bird calls, little ditties back and forth accompanied by the whistling of the wind; all this and more the divine blessing of Mila, naturally.

But Silque could stroll through the forest anytime she wanted. She had hoped for a rather more eventful afternoon with her dear friend!

"I am reading it correctly, right?" murmurs the cleric, turning to face the sun and aligning the map with it. She looks down. Looks back up. It's just that the marked spot looks exactly the same as any other around them, save a cluster of mistletoe nestled atop a branch.

…Hmm. She didn't know mistletoe grew in this part of Fodlan! With the hand not clasped in Ninian's, Silque reaches for it, curious—

Only to be interrupted by a cheerful, "Why, hello! …Um, how did you find—"

"Eeeeeek!" Startled, Silque whirls around, shoving Ninian behind her protectively. The voice belongs to a smirking lady with fetchingly bright red hair.

"Who are you?" Silque squeaks. "When did you get here?"

@ninisdance !

wolfhednn

———　( modern au )　how do they feel about enabling location sharing on their phone with their partner? family? close friends?

dash game! reblog and include your muse's answer in the tags!

#ooc #she's be really touched by it haha #in modern au she's probably still a social worker / nurse who works with vulnerable populations #and it's both sensible and very kind (in her opinion) that her loved ones worry about her. and want to know where she is!#she's also the type to maintain many long-distance friendships and location sharing can help a lot in that regard #that being said if they're actually looking for her they should just call her. she'll always make time for her people :D

ninisdance

Silque assures her with such certainty, yet she expects the cleric to pull back still — it would be only natural, for cold was in truth an understatement. To think of it now, she should have spoken more plainly... Ah, but even if she had, Silque likely wouldn’t have been dissuaded; and not only because it’s impossible to impart on a human just how frigid her hands are.

It may well be the girl’s certainty, perhaps even determination, that gives Ninian the courage to allow her... which in itself runs counter to her expectations. She expects Silque to reach for her at once then flinch back just as quickly, for the cold can burn.

Instead the girl waits then takes her hand (her hand —!) without flinching.

Ninian swallows, noticing the tightness in her chest by its sudden easing. Speaking of ease, Silque is so... so comfortable with someone like her...! She laughs, speaks of her life, offers reassurances, all of it in the same breath —!

It is all the dancer can do to look at her in wonder. That, and to let her do as she sees fit with these cold, bloodied hands... To let her do anything she likes. Yes, anything.

“Miss Silque, I...” Ninian smiles at last, still flushed, “I think so, too. And when you put it like that,” when you believe in me, of all the undeserving — “I... Ah...”

She breathes a laugh, gently disbelieving. Then she draws herself up, smiling with a newfound sparkle in her eye.

“What dance did you choose, Miss Silque? I ask because your choreography will likely need some adjusting with a partner... Ah... Don’t worry, I’ll keep the changes small.”

#toaball2026 #ninisdance #thread: ninian ball mini #ninian you are SOOOOO sweet !!! !!! !!!#oh silque my girlfailure (who is so rarely a girlfailure) /lh #i thiiiink you could tie us off in your reply! or i can in my next :D

Ninian brightens, and the room does, too. The ribbons in her long, blue hair glimmer under the light, pale cream set beautifully against the luxurious gold of her dancer's silks. Or so Silque thinks, anyway — to be honest, she knows little about art or beauty. But she'd like to think she knows quite a bit about joy.

As delighted as Silque is, she could spin the two of them around and around for hours! Ninian's hands aren't cold, not at all — how could they be? What had the girl been so afraid of?

Alas, before the cleric can really float off the ground in excitement, she finally processes the rest of Ninian's question ...

... and now, it's her turn to freeze.

“Oh! Haha, um…” What dance? My choreography? Silque fights the urge to fidget, occupied as her hands currently are. “I guess I didn't realize the Cup is meant to be such a grand affair. To be honest, most of the numbers from the ballroom tonight looked the same to me... "

Embarrassed, the cleric ducks her head. "If you still want to dance together, whatever steps you think suits us best," she continues, not so confident but no less earnest, "I'll give it my best effort."

June 2026 activity check... passed!

Threads: tracker!

Skill points gained: (total 6)

any +1 (monthly activity point): faith +1 (C+)

#toaactivity

familiar steps & familiar smiles

ꫂ❁ continued from here !

While Clair herself found it quite easy to dance upon the darkened halls (those nightly balls granted her quite the advantage here), it was clear her dance partner was… How should she say this…? Impressively, almost concerningly, off balance. Still, a lady knew how to adapt to any dance partner!

… Or so she’d say but it was quite difficult not to wince as Lady Silque stepped on her feet yet again. At this rate, her lovely shoes may be fashioned with mud and dust far before the night could end. May Mila grant her mercy and ensure the damage to be salvageable… please…

Still, her focus remained on Lady Silque. She hummed in thought. “I see, I suppose I should be thankful to Mila for keeping his troublesome nature at bay,” a small giggle ended the comment. The lighthearted tone soon dropped as she only nodded at Lady Silque.

“I believe so. His attitude and ego are all in place though—he wasn’t cruel to you, was he?” If so, she might find more than enough reason to curse his days to come. “He is here as a student of the Black Eagles for whatever reason. Enough of him, though—ah, Lady Silque, you mustn’t move your steps such as you are, try keeping them in line with your shoulders. Ahem, as I was saying—how much have you seen of Fódlan?”

There was a much more important question she wished to ask (had she seen the Pegasi stables?) but it might be wiser to ask this first. At least until Clair could highlight the virtues of the many Pegasi here.

#toaball2026 #cloudyknightskies #thread: familiar steps and familiar smiles #o7 sounds good clair LKSJDHF #imo silque is Not a flier but she can be convinced :eyes:

Lord Berkut wasn’t cruel to her, not by the standards of the vitriol he'd previously shown — though he might have been crueler still if he really had recognized her as a woman of the cloth. To consider herself fortunate that she wasn’t her gown and habit! Silque smiles. There’s a thought she’s never had before.

Time with a dear friend, however, is far too precious to spend puzzling over the motives of a disagreeable ghost. Obligingly, as per Clair’s suggestion, the cleric tries to keep her toes turned towards her partner… but then, how is she supposed to step forward without toppling them both over?

Well, she certainly isn’t stomping all over Clair’s shoes anymore. Nor is she going much of anywhere, though, as she simply sways back and forth.

“I first arrived in Fodlan on its west coast,” replies Silque with a smile, “and I spent most of last year traveling through the Faerghan countryside. It’s not so grand as this monastery, that’s for certain!” A girlish laugh as she adds, gentle but with conviction, “The land is… difficult, but the people are kind. As people are, everywhere.”

Her eyes crinkle in a teasing grin. “The sights must be quite different from up in the air. Have you had a chance to explore the area yourself?”

shinebow

— AFTER MIDNIGHT .

no ball for me? :(

shinebow

Everything about the monastery was already far grander than anything she'd seen before. Even comparing it to her father's manor or the great fortresses that they had felled, Garreg Mach's architecture spanned geometries that went past her comprehension. Tanya could only look out in awe at how this ballroom seemed to extend far past what four walls could normally contain, how its sculpted details were gilded with the sort of gold she knew she'd never have in her life. It was brimming with clutter and mess, sure, flooded with papers and petals and rotting leftovers, but no one could deny the beauty that lay beneath it. Not even some bumpkin like Tanya.

But the majesty that such a room beheld all but faded away as Tanya was handed a broom and a wet rag and nudged towards the worst of the chaos. Right, she was here for work.

Tanya sighed. If she arrived earlier, maybe she could have been making the mess instead of cleaning it. Just her luck that she got here right after the ball ended. At least the task wasn't too difficult, just tedious, and she had other volunteers here with her. Tanya began gathering the trash on the floor, which mainly consisted of empty food containers and scattered petals of different colors. There were a ton of petals, actually.

"It's a lot of flowers, huh?" Tanya remarked, to no one in particular, though she was sure the girl beside her could hear. She kept sweeping more of those petals into her dustpan, "Some ball it must have been."

@milafaithful

#thread: after midnight #shinebow #tyyy for the starter mik!! tanya :pleading: we gotta hold a ball just for you girl #these two are soo cute thinking about how they're like. both rough around the edges but in different directions

“Oh, did you miss it?” What ill timing! Silque smiled with sympathy, the expression still a tad too cheerful for the early hour. “Yes, we were each given a bunch of one kind of flower, and told to trade them among ourselves.” A laugh, as she pointed at the petals in the dustpan. “Though the floor looks almost as colorful as the bouquets people left with...”

Silque’s own collection has been left in a vase in her new room, the water hopefully restoring the wilted petals as they speak. But her other prize, the heron’s silk, is still tied around her neck, the intricate design out of place among the rest of her plain garments.

It would look more delicate around her wrist, Silque knew. But how could she risk dirtying something so precious with the grime of cleaning?

As the darker petals were swept away, they left behind stains on the floors, in the impressions of lively boot-prints. And so Silque dropped into a crouch, dishcloth in hand, scrubbing at them with soapy water until the marble gleamed white once more. An old hymn drifted from her lips — these motions were familiar, comforting. For no matter where she went, there was always work like this to be done, unassuming and thankless but blessed all the same.

Still — “You must be exhausted if you just arrived.” Late enough to miss the ball entirely! Silque shook her head as she stood once more, shooting the girl a concerned glance.

Thinking better of placing her dirty hand on the the girl’s shoulder, she set it gently on the broom instead. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be resting? I’d be happy to cover for you, if you want.”

we live in a society

mission board: herald | announcing the town’s first “cat cafe”!

As the weather gets colder with the coming of winter, a small group of Garreg Mach’s residents seek to solve an issue: housing for the stray cats that call the streets their home. Entrepreneurial as they turn out to be, one of them has brought as many of the cats as he can reasonably house into the cafe that he owns, announcing the town’s first “cat cafe”! The additional furry faces generate no shortage of work, an increasing demand for attention, and a mighty hole in the pocket—signs outside make it clear that customers and volunteers are both welcome.

It will be his first winter away from home. Fodlan already has quite the frigid grasp and it's still yet early in the season. But word has reached him of an usual cafe in town and so when he next has free time, he finds himself searching for this cat cafe.

As described, the cafe is filled with cats, and has drawn quite the crowd of patrons. How many, he wonders, are here for the food and how many to simply sit with the cats.

Among the crowd he sees a familiar looking woman. She's the one who had danced with Ninian at the White Heron Cup. He makes his way over with a friendly smile and waves to get her attention.

"Hello," he bows slightly in greeting. "I saw you dance in the White Heron Cup with my friend, Ninian. It's a pleasure to meet you. I am Eliwood of Pherae. Are you also here to see this cat cafe?"

It appears to be a long wait to be seated so it's as good a time as any to make a friend.

—@milafaithful !!

#of-pherae #thread: we live in a society #was going to just have them chat but silque wanted to Do Good Deeds asdkljfhs #domestic longhair stray :pleading:

"Oh, hello!" Smiling, the cleric greets the man — Eliwood, was it? — with a slight bow of her own. "Any friend of Ninian's is a friend of mine! I'm Silque, a cleric from the continent of Valentia."

Unfortunately, as she excitedly frees a hand to shake, she forgets that her hands are still otherwise occupied. The bundle in her arms, disturbed from its rest, suddenly squirms. A tiny paw (!) sticks straight out of the blanket, and the entire package threatens to tumble to the floor—

"Oh dear!" Mildly alarmed, Silque scrambles to wrap the kitten securely once more. Tucking the fabric back into place, she offers a sheepish shake of her head. "As you can see, kind sir, I've also come to drop off a special customer, hee hee. Would you like to try holding him?"

Moving with more care this time, she peels back the hood to reveal wide amber eyes, set in the midst of an astronomical amount of unruly fur.

O distant star, to the bright future you shine

Mission Board: Herald — Any +1

with milafaithful

"It's towards the back of the library, where they keep the texts on faith magi—"

The telltale crackle of magic echoes off the stone walls of the monastery, accompanied by a burst of prismatic light.

Immediately Celica is on guard, one hand reaching back for Silque while the other finds her sword, but as the source of the disturbance reveals itself, her eyes widen. Almost immediately, all sense of wariness evaporates as her grip slackens on the sword, standing up straighter.

Step.

Slowly, as if pulled along, Celica steps closer and closer to the orb, seemingly entranced by a vision only she could see.

Step.

"It's... beautiful... Is such a future really...?"

Step.

Her sword clatters to the ground, dropped from limp fingers.

Step.

She pauses reverently just in front of the orb, hands clasped in front of her in prayer. As if responding to her call, the orb floats towards her, sinking into her chest. There is a brief moment where the world hangs frozen in white.

As the light fades, there is a swish of fabric and light clink of metal as a different, slightly older-looking Celica comes into view, clad in red and gold.

She laughs warmly. "Hello, Silque."

#thread: o distant star #rigainrokkr #the priestesses :pleading: :pleading:

"Celica?" Asked far too quietly to catch her attention. "Celica, what are you doing?"

The clang of the sword rings out like the crack of a whip, and the cleric is powerless to watch as some foreign power takes hold of her friend. But, oh, Silque had had her reservations, isn't that right? Celica, who always dreamed bigger than any of them, whose shoulders were constantly weighed down with countless what-ifs. Of course she would jump at the opportunity to —

Silque blinks, and the person that stands before her now sports a different posture. Steadier, straighter, like that of a girl — a woman — who had grown stronger under the strain.

"Celica, is that you?" Still you, the mild uncertainty in Silque's voice seems to ask. "Wow, I like your new outfit! You look like..."

Eventually, she finds a teasing smile, tilting her head in appraisal. "Like a princess who swash-buckled a dozen pirates." It suits her, even if Silque hadn't been there to see it.

"Still, you hail from the future, it seems." Smiling warmly back, Silque reaches out a hand, thinking of leading the woman to a table so they can sit and talk in earnest. "Tell me, how fares Zofia? How fares Rigel?"

winds of paradise

Hapi + Silque, any +1 (herald)

#haaapi #thread: winds of paradise #SEWER RAT SUMMER (pointing)#i would kill for a mint lemonade right now tbh #really excited for them :pleading: let me know if you'd like me to change anything !!

Careful, careful now! The cleric slowly picks her way barefoot across the beach, balancing a tall glass in each hand, both filled to the brim. When her own drink overflows under her clumsy care, sweet, cool liquid running down her palm, she brings it up to her lips, the sharp citrus sapping at the heat of the sun overhead.

But, ah, it would be impolite to do that with someone else's order, wouldn't it? So Silque keeps her focus on the cup in her spare hand, willing herself to keep it, well, mostly intact.

"Here you are, Hapi!" As she sets the glasses down on the rickety table, Silque's eyes curve into gentle crescents. "I do hope most of your drink is still in there, haha... But the stall owner also gave me these!"

Fishing around in the stack of napkins, she produces two paper umbrellas, only a little crumpled. The green one plops into her own mint lemonade, and finally, sighing happily, the girl settles into a reclining chair with drink in hand.

The sunlight is almost a physical weight, warming her from the inside out. It's second nature to go boneless against the seat, tension draining from her shoulders. Silque closes her eyes, content, but she can almost still see the scene before her, serene and perfect — the waves, lapping softly against glittering sands; the blue sky, faintly streaked with cloudy ribbons; and of course, the people she shares Mila's blessings with, enjoying the sun without a care in the world.

"It's important to stay hydrated, right?" She laughs, delighted. "Now we can really rest without worry!"

@haaapi !!

familiar steps & familiar smiles

ꫂ❁ continued from here !

It was only now that Clair realised how little either of them had seen each other outside of the war. Ah, what a tragedy! The many balls Lady Silque was sure to have missed… They must make up for it now, that was the only suitable course of action.

“Of course! A lady must be attuned to any environment while dancing,” she declared with the kind of certainty only she held. It was most certainly not because she wished to dance with a friend and rushed ahead. No, no, a lady would never be so impatient. Ahem. Still, she led her friend in the dance, excitement thrumming in each step. As always with Clair.

As Lady Silque spoke, her bright smile faded into something just as fond but with some more… grace, she would say. “My brother has been faring well, of course. He is not here but I have been corresponding with him in letters. Of the Deliverance, I have seen a few here and they, too, seem to be faring well. Forsyth, Lucas and Python… Do inform me if he has done anything less than knightly, a sure eventuality with him.” A sigh as she shook her head, even if slightly fond.

Still, it soured at the memory of one she had much, much, much preferred to forget. However… it would be cruel to keep this from a friend lest they be startled by his appearance. Perhaps they could avoid him together. “I have seen the much less desired sight of Lord Berkut. Mila willing I will not see him ever again… still, he is a student, so do be wary should you catch sight of him.”

As the music went on, Clair’s expression returned to a smile. “And yourself? I hope you have been faring well, my lady.”

ꫂ❁ @milafaithful

#thread: familiar steps and familiar smiles #cloudyknightskies #toaball2026 #clair help let's Not talk about berkut anymore LKSJDFH /lh

Silque has been faring well. The surprise journey to Fodlan, the many moons of traveling this foreign land, none of it is any hardship she has not grown accustomed to over the years. But as for how she is faring right now, the question in Clair's lilting tones is somewhat difficult to answer with complete honesty. Because—and Silque thinks this as she trips over her own heel once again—

In Mila's name, how on earth does Lady Clair know where she's going?

The cleric laughs to herself, a little embarrassed at finding the dance so dificult. She hopes against hope that she hasn't been stomping all over her partner's toes in the dark. "Since we last saw each other, I have mostly been in Rigel healing the wounded. I only recently arrived in Fodlan by complete accident." There's a story to be told there, but Silque merely shakes her head, smiling it off. "You needn't worry, though. Sir Python has already agreed to send word of me back home," she informs cheerfully, "so he's actually very well behaved tonight, hee hee!"

A step and a spin, performed with spirit if not finesse, before Silque lets her voice drop, as if telling a secret. "But is that really the late Lord Berkut? In the flesh? When I spilled—um, came across him earlier, I almost thought him to be a ghost!" Still, ghosts cannot summon black fire, nor can they wear jackets with sleeves to deposit stains on.

"…May Mila's mercy shine extra bright upon him. I truly cannot fathom why he would come here of all places." Silque shakes her head, mystified. "Whatever he may be, he didn't seem to recognize me. Sent me away with nary a glance."

the promised land

silque + sue, ethereal ball 2026, continued from here