Astra's Pentinence

Closed Black Eagles Shannan from FE4. Affiliated with toa. Penned by Duncachino. Art by Okuma Yugo and Senri Kita. Edits by Alina and Kitsy.

[swcrdhanded]

When shushed by his hunting partner, Odin had to subdue the need to sigh. Even more so when the option of a different beast was presented. While Odin wanted to get out of the cold as much as the other did, he couldn't help but feel something gnawing at his pride when thinking about coming back with another prey in hand.

To avoid being silenced, Odin kept his voice a few decibels quieter. Close to a whisper, even. What a feat. "Are you serious? Is that not the same as completely forsaking the creature we just doomed to the pastures beyond? It will not survive such a wound for long. And you would make its sacrifice for our bellies a needless one? For shame."

Well, he shot it. But he's still claiming equal blame, here.

The mission was 'hunt for food'. The blonde is just adding needless stipulations at this point! Even as the trail they're following grows thinner, Odin seems ready to follow it to the end. Even if finding a different animal was difficult due to the heavy snowfall and loud wind, it would still be easier than chasing this exact same deer.

"Why must we use arrows anyway? Can't I just, like, explode it with some thunder?" Odin asked while pulling open his cloak. Revealing a tome in the inner pocket.

Where was the respect for the animals he was just complaining about?! Just because he doesn't want to say his pride was involved.

@odsfinest

[odsfinest]

Eyes roll as Odin chides his remarks. "Perhaps instead of looking out for ourselves, we should just freeze in this cold instead. That way the animal can have the dignity of dying with us." Sarcasm dry, his face is still hardened as the blood stains seem to get... redder. That was a good sign.

Hand raising to signal a stop, he kneels down, quick to unsheathe an arrow. Snow molds around the tip as he scoops up the clump of crimson snow. Glancing back into the darkness, his eyes trace the path they'd just walked. The red stains are more vibrant, casting its stains deeper into the hardened snow. Thicker than snow, thicker than water. While the trail they'd just walked is already lost among a stygian seal, what he can see confirms his hunch.

Raising a brow, he almost doesn't even justify the reasoning behind hunting with traditional weaponry.

"Ah, my apologies. We should resort to exploding all which we hunt. I think a nice plate of charred ashes instead of venison would make for a suitable dinner. At least it'd be cooked quicker." Brushing the arrow off on his pant leg, he continues forward.

Perhaps he should tell Odin that they might happen upon their prize. He doesn't. Odin has to learn.

@swcrdhanded

[sayhwaet]

Every Bit and Bridle

[sayhwaet]

An overnight outage to the stables’ heating system results in the deaths of several wyverns, personal mounts and beloved lesson drakes alike. In their grief, passionate students vowed to sleep overnight in the wyvern stables to help them keep warm through the night. [Grants Flying +1]  Starter for @odsfinest

It couldn't be that hard, right? Wyverns were hardly different from horses - yeah, they had wings, and they liked their steaks a little rarer than most, but when it came down to it the principle was about the same: keep the stable clean, keep the beast warm, keep the food fresh, and maybe a snuggle here or there.

Beowolf had taken harder jobs, certainly, than spending the night alone in a stable letting some lizards leach his body heat to stay alive.

He pushed the mourning of the monastery to the back of his mind as he made his way across the courtyard to the wyvern stables. He didn't know anyone personally that kept one of the beasts, and he didn't have quite the bias some of his countrymen might have, so all things considered keeping an objective view of the task was easy enough. Just couldn't let the sniffs and wails of those who had lost a mount, or had hearts too tender for the task, distract him.

He first checked the heating mechanism itself, fancying himself a bit of a handyman until he discovered that it was magically run, and backed off, understanding that his expertise was of absolutely no use here. Then, the insulation of the space - no use providing the heat if it wouldn't stay - and eventually, gathering enough blankets and coats and pillows to make the beasts a sweet little nest for when the time came to bed down.

They watched him with interest, and he chatted with them as he worked - the same as he would with the horses, can't hurt to treat them the same, hey? - describing the things he was doing, or otherwise making what might have been considered small talk in polite society.

"Shit luck on the weather, though, I know your kind ain't done well by snow'n'all. Maybe them tender hearts in the monastery'll knit you a sweater with all the freetime they got, hey? Thinkin' y'all might like that, get some fancy patterns goin - not that y'ain't got those yerselves."

He chattered aimlessly for a while as he fed the beasts, tossing meat for them to catch, until one by one the beasts' heads swiveled to the clattering of the stable door.

"Ah, seems like we got another visitor."

[odsfinest]

The cold winds have gotten worse, and with no end in sight, it seemed that the staff and students alike couldn't get a moments rest. Finding itself in dire straits, the monastery needed any help it could get. Such is the cause that led Shannan to the wyvern stables.

Carefully, the stable doors swing open, and there is a pleasant surprise in the form of company already here.

He's familiar, though he couldn't quite place the face... regardless, this wasn't his first time at the monastery. Must've just been someone Shannan's seen in passing.

There's a job to do though. The wyvern's needed to be kept alive, some outage stemming from the power system leading to several of them passing rather unfortunately. The sands of time bury even the strongest, or something like that. Death was a familiar fear, one that Shannan had conquered long ago; part of why he'd volunteered to come and work these stables.

"You do. I'm here to help keep the wyverns warm tonight. I'm Shannan, nice to meet you." A polite nod as the Isaachian made his way further into the stable. While the hardest of the work was already completed before his arrival, there was still much to do: Check the power mechanism, make sure they'd been fed, and settle down to keep these cold-blooded beasts from freezing over.

Like clockwork, Shannan repeats the same steps Beowolf first took, and upon seeing the mechanism, sighs. One glance at the other man tells him all he needs to know. Neither of them knew a lick of damn magic.

"They're holding up? Can't say I'd be happy crammed in here for this long but..." It was better than being outside, that's for sure.

[ventusanimae]

Trust Me I'm a Professional || Merric & Shannan

[ventusanimae]

@odsfinest ; Faith +1

"... You know, I appreciate your enthusiasm, I really do. But if you want to help us, one person should only test one of those at a time..."

"YEOWCH! N-No, it's fine. I just thought it would be good to get multiple tests - OWIEOWIEOWIE - ... out of the way at once, Professor..."

Merric smiles, though his expression is best described as pitiful, while the student continues to groan and yelp even though he cleans the painful rash as gently as he possibly can.

"See, the problem is that sometimes different types of medicine react to each other... It's still useful to know that these two together will do that, of course!" He has to give her some kind of silver lining for this torture she just put herself through. "... But we cannot be sure if just one of them will have such a result like this..."

"YOW!"

The poor girl recoils from the pain, and Merric sighs with a shake of his head. "Alright, we cannot continue like this." Getting up from his chair, he walks over to the shelf and pulls out a box with tablets - the traditional, verified, well-known kind. He takes out a few and hands to the student, along with a glass of water.

"We're short on these, so you'll have to take less than you technically should... but I can't let you suffer with this constantly. Take one of those a day and keep your skin clean. Everything should heal." He stops, before shaking his head again. "Please don't return to the tests until all your symptoms are gone."

One round of thanks and assuring she has nothing to apologize for later, and she takes her leave. In the door, she passes by someone walking in, and Merric pauses at the sight. He vaguely recalls that the Academy had a new sword instructor coming, so just by process of elimination that is probably him, but other than that, he has been spending too much time in the infirmary to truly be caught up.

Still, he smiles.

"Hello, sire. How may I help?"

[odsfinest]

Perhaps it was just his nature to offer assistance wherever it was needed. Perhaps seeing someone pained through combat reignited the squeamish kid he once was enough motivation to provide his skills even if they weren't up to snuff. Regardless, it's the least Shannan can do to assist after such an apparently massive battle had taken place. He's truly shocked that the school still stood untouched despite the carnage it had apparently wrought to the students and faculty alike.

"Ah, hello. I'm Shannan, a professor. I'd been told that the infirmary was packed and needed any assistance possible. I'm here to help however I can." A polite bow of respect despite his princely origins. "May I have your name?"

Upon broad shoulders is a ragged string, before a small yet hefty knapsack is rested upon one of the tables. Digits curl into the top, opening the bag to reveal some medicine.

Sparse, yet better than nothing.

"From one of the villages at the base of the mountain. I was told that we were running out and to bring this."

Following instructions was easy enough, though quickly he finds the shelf where the rest of the medicine is stored on. Diligently does he stock it, figuring that this spritely cleric would correct any potential errors he made. The most experience Shannan had was wrapping arms or cleaning wounds. Far different than being able to offer a proper solution or remedy.

"So, who're we helping next?"

Small talk wasn't Shannan's strong suit, so it was best to just get to the dirty work of prepping wounds or prescribing medicine.

@ventusanimae

[swcrdhanded]

Dear Deer (Bow +1)

The sun had set upon the academy. Usually, it'd be cause for celebration. Another day conquered, time for bed! Instead, however, Odin was out and about the monastery's outskirts. With a bow (of all things!) in hand. The way of the arrow was never his path to take. Which became clear as day when his 'fatal' strike upon a future meal instead had it scurry into the night. He couldn't go back empty-handed on his first mission, now could he?

At least he wasn't alone. He'd been sent out here with another professor. While not many words had been exchanged ever since their prey ran off, that didn't mean it had to be awkward all the way.

"Fimbulwinter's might is oppressing." Odin said with a foggy breath. "Nevertheless, we must trudge onward. Our deer wanders this world still. Who's to say what'd happen if it reaches its goal and chews the roots of Yggdrasil? We must remain ever vigilant, Shannan."

The fact that he could talk in this way despite being the reason they're out here might've been strange to most anyone. But Odin really wanted to believe that they have equal blame in being here. After all, Shannan didn't exactly stop it from getting away, either.

@odsfinest

[odsfinest]

Bitter winds nip without remorse as both professors shifted further into the darkened woods before them. While a bow was not this Isaachian's preference either, it was certainly more effective than any sword he could bring. That being said... his company was quite peculiar. This whole situation may have been avoided had his partner just shot the arrow rather than calling out some grandiose name for his shot.

Even so, this situation didn't matter. They needed to find this deer, or a suitable alternative to take back. The numbing winds of his home couldn't compare to the sheer inhospitable nature of such a mountain.

"It is. You landed a hit though, it couldn't have gotten far. We just have to keep following its blood..." He reminded the other. Pulling his cloak up further onto his shoulders, the insulation was lackluster, though helpful.

"Odin, keep your voice down." This silence was hardly awkward. Hunters needed to keep quiet. Even the crunching beneath their boots could alert their next target to their location. "If we can't get this deer, perhaps we should consider other options. Hares or turkey might now be such a bad meal, no?" Striding quickly into the howling winds, his eyes are peeled to keep tracking this prey, though he was hardly a notable hunter.

@swcrdhanded

[lumenfilia]

the tails aren’t real

Among the new students are massive wolves unlike any that Fodlan has seen before: not monsters cursed by crest stones, but mounts that are frequently used by Elyos’ elite cavalry units. The Officers Academy has gone out of its way to import a small pack of these creatures, hoping to one day offer certification for aspiring Wolf Knights. However, these seasoned veterans prefer sunny afternoon naps and would rather ignore whatever nonsense that’s coming out of your mouth. You’ll have to earn their respect first. [Grants Riding +1] @odsfinest

The click of her own tongue has simply become white noise by now, tuned out plainly for how many times it has sounded. No, she has never considered herself much of an animal person, but wasn’t that usually how you caught a dog’s attention?

Or, well, wolf, if she’s being technical here. Though surely such things aren’t all that different. Right? Probably. Maybe.

Evidently just… not in this regard.

Frustration brings her hands to her hips, lips screwing into a frown as she blinks down at the ivory fur of her current target. The creature looks so disinterested that it may as well be asleep ( …actually it may very well be ) and finally that fact has begun to discourage her. 

“That’s it? Not even gonna budge?” Tailtiu’s cheeks puff out on her exhale. Rejected by a damn dog – how much lower could she possibly get?

The wolf, in a mocking turn of events, finally moves. Though it’s only to roll over onto its other side, away from her. 

Rude.

Patience is a virtue and, as she reminds herself, is not one she is particularly well equipped with. This little fight she is having with a dog’s fluffy back is not going to be won alone. She’ll need reinforcements.

Which present themselves in the form of a man who she has to crane her neck upwards to glimpse at the face of. One who looks quite jarringly familiar, in fact. Perhaps Ayra really did just have that many doppelgangers in Fodlan. 

“You-! Hey, over here!!” 

Hand flung over her head in something of a dramatic wave, Tailtiu flags down her newest stranger. “You look like you’re good with dogs probably. Any idea how to make these ones do anything other than uh… lay here?”

[odsfinest]

Seems Shannan is apparently just that easy to just holler at. Still, this girl is recognizable... certainly Friegian. While he and Tine never talked much during the campaign, it wasn’t unreasonable that she’d call to someone familiar for help. Yet there was still something quite uncanny about her. “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here. What do you need T-” words drop as he draws near, and the realization that is not the girl he knew. Another Friegian, yet still, her resemblance was undeniable. 

A mystery for another time.

Clearing his throat, he turns to the wolves she’s asking about. His knowledge probably wouldn’t be helpful. The wolves that prowled the forests around Isaach were nothing like this, fierce and ready to swarm unsuspecting prey at a moment’s notice. Seeing one meant there were three hidden amongst the brush, waiting for the right chance to pounce.

And forget about the wolves that lined the halls of the castle. Politicians were no better than the beasts outside their walls.

“Well, not particularly. I’ve killed wolves before but... that doesn’t really feel appropriate considering how they’re behaving.” Arms crossed, eyes gazing over their ashen coats. They were domesticated, unlike the ones he’s experienced.

A pack of wolves and a squadron of soldiers share many similarities, he surmises. Most would prefer nothing more than to sleep in a warm bed with a filled stomach.

Tone raising, he leans forward, calmly asking, “Who wants a treat?” 

Almost immediately the wolf they stand over raises its head, glancing between the both of them. Buzzwords. After realizing that there’s nothing to eat, its chin lowers, resting over crossed paws. Those eyes, as observant as can be, lose hope and become disinterested with no snack being present.

Glancing down at the smaller woman, he presents two options. “Either we raid the kitchen and find some meat to serve, or we try the other approach. And I don’t think either of us wants me yelling at a wolf in hopes that it’ll respond positively.” While he had authority, he didn’t know this silvery lupine’s name. Calling to it or ordering it around probably wouldn’t yield much...

“You think we’ll get in trouble if we cook up some steaks without permission?”

[odsfinest]

"Shannan!"

The thief is quick to try and leap towards him, arms open for a hug. Though fully aware that he was certainly much faster, the young Yngvi would never give up an opportunity to hold him in her arms..an opportunity she had never really had before aside from in her dreams.

Whether he sidesteps her or accepts his fate she still wore the same grin that she always had. "I didn't think I'd be seein' ya here-- busy bein' a King of whatever it is ya are! Speakin' ooooof..ya aren't still lookin' for a Queen, are ya?"

"Regardless-- I'm so happy to see ya! Maaaaaybe..we could have a bite together at the cafeteria sometime? Anythin' ya want, even if they ain't servin' it that day! I'll make it just for ya!" She rubs the back of her neck, looking shyly at the ground suddenly.

"And..I was wonderin' if ya had that sword of yours with ya? See..I maybe got a few guys lookin' for me-- they keep goin' 'round sayin' I stole this, and that, and ya know me! I'd never! But, ehe..maybe ya could help me get 'em off my tail?"

Perhaps Larcei has him on edge, but hearing his name yelled from across the way immediately has him ready to draw his blade.

This time however, the advance is far more welcoming. A thief, one he shared a deep history with. "Patty," he answers, deciding that the blade was not suited for this greeting. Her hug is well met, embracing the girl as she launches herself. While close before, there was always the looming presence that came from the mystery of tomorrow. A hug like this was sparse, but there was no need for rigidity now. She would have but a moment of bliss, one felt solely in her dreams.

"This isn't the first time I've been here. You and I just never crossed paths," a light chuckle as she's hoisted up, only to be let back down. She certainly hasn't grown in the months he's left. Though at the sound of needing a queen, a disgruntled noise emanates from his throat. "Don't remind me. My father was pressuring me when I was 12 to marry. You'll make me feel old..."

Arms more loose around her waist, his head tilts out of curiosity. She actually had courage, that was for sure. The same moxie to refuse giving him his sword rings true. He's almost lulled into believing that Patty's turned over a new leaf...

"Ah, that's why you're being this affectionate." He's used to this. Pulling away from her, he turns, already walking to the cafeteria. "Come then, let's get something to eat. Your treat. If some ruffians try anything, I'll protect you." Hand raising over his shoulder, he motions for her to follow. If she wanted his protection, she better keep up.

[odsfinest]

Peace in the courtyard never lasts.

As soon as her eyes meet his, Larcei is an astral rush. She takes off, sword drawn, and runs for her cousin faster than a shooting star. Such is customary of Isaach; such is the greeting of warriors. When her steel clashes against his, she knows for real that his heart still beats inside his chest.

Their shared blood makes them strong. With it, they can topple mountains.

"Shannan!" she yells, stellar Brave Sword now tasting the cool air, as both blade and master arc in their great leap. She trusts that he'd raise his Balmung to block the blow, or dodge to the side--hell, maybe even find a way to trip her up. She used to fall for cheap tricks like that all the time as a kid.

And even though things are different now, Larcei believes with every drop of Isaachian pride that he's been fighting just as vigorously as she. Being king of their castle very rarely entails a life spent on your ass.

The swipe carries with its full momentum, and irregardless of Shannan's reaction, Larcei speaks up, "Been a while, hasn't it? C'mon, I'm eager to show you my skills."

"After everything I've been through, I just might beat you this time!"

Seems some lessons need to be taught yet again to an overzealous leaf in the wind.

As devoted as his cousins were to their studies, years of experience still ring true in this instance. The last time he'd set foot on these grounds, she welcomed him more reasonably, yet history would not repeat itself. Hardly reacting at first, there's no rush in any movement he makes, no stain or stress as legs come to position, heels lined with broad shoulders.

Planning a counter attack this early into an opponents dash could spell his downfall. Gripping the scabbard of Balmung, his other hand comfortably rests on its hilt. Few really understand how early a battle is decided.

Larcei was among the masses in this regard.

This battle was over the second her blade arced overhead, even if a mere second ago she'd been several paces out. As the cosm slows before them, the searing pyre of battle is irresistible.

One step forward and his plan is feasible. In an instant, his sheathe meets her blade, with movements so subtle even Larcei might miss them if she's not paying attention. Body lowering, his elbow extends beneath the cold steel of her blade, trusting the guard he's put up. Many mistake speed for winding up and striking quicker than your foe, yet there is no such need. Speed comes from subtlety.

Blocked and struck back, a leg sweeps behind him. In the next second, her strike is parried back, leaving her wide open. Without drawing this accursed blade, his heel swings around, connecting with the younger Isaachian's side.

Once she's reminded of her place, he speaks. "Rule one of initiating combat, don't let them know you're coming. Rule two of a surprise attack, come from below, never above. You leave yourself open too easily." Extending a hand forward, she's hoisted up from the ground, only for a hand to interlace in her short hair, pulling their foreheads together. Eyes met yet again, only to escape that tension by shutting. A smirk. "You're a fool for ever thinking I'd raise Balmung against you. I'd sooner perish than risk hurting my kin, Larcei." Releasing her, that smile fades for a moment. The high of sparring with his kin wears thin. "Come now. I've missed a lot. I expect someone to update me on everything."

[odsfinest]

❰❰ PIN ❱❱ sender pins receiver during a fight/training (but reverse!)

Ethlyn never expected to win.

Shannan has major holy blood. He's Od's scion and the wielder of Balmung. She's just a troubador with minor Baldr blood. There's no way she could ever hope to gain the advantage in a spar against someone like that.

She knows she had no chance of winning but that didn't stop her from giving it her all and fighting with everything she had.

Breathing heavily, Ethlyn grins even in her defeat. She enjoyed their spar. It was fun and she definitely plans on challenging him again.

"You stole some of those moves from my brother," she teases with a laugh.

((idk if you're still accepting these but this idea just popped into my head and i thought it was really cute Akdhdjd))

When Ethlyn asked him for a simple training match, he didn't go into it expecting someone who'd put up the hardest fight he'd endured. That being said, it wasn't like Ethlyn would be taken lightly. Every opponent deserved respect, with even the most unsuspecting of foes being able to work hard enough and succeed in combat.

Even now, as he kept a pace that she could keep up with, he didn't make it easy on the mother. He may have a major holy blood, but it was never something he relied on. One wasn't born with skill, one worked for it.

His sword clashed with collected aggression, keeping her pressed and only letting off his strikes to punish her offense. It wasn't an even fight, and even she knew that. Still, even his own kin were no exception to being beaten by the swordsman.

With an easy parry, Ethlyn's balance is offset. Sweeping his leg simply against her ankles, she falls. Descending down, his sword stabs a ways away from her head, yet his free hand comes to pin the one that held her own sword.

A dry chuckle escapes. "Maybe so. He's quite the duelist..." he comments, his blacks locks draping around his face as he lets out a gentle breath. "I like to think I've developed my own style, though." Extending a hand forward, he helps the woman up, before giving an appreciative nod.

"I really ought to that Lord Sigurd one of these days..." he comments, his gaze lingering to the side. He really hasn't talked much with Lord Sigurd since his arrival.

[odsfinest]

❰❰ PANIC ❱❱ sender comforts the receiver as they have a panic attack or get overstimulated (Or just worked up over something if panic attacks/overstimulation are things you don't prefer to write!)

//I am a-okay with panic attacks, though for this, I do think I'm gonna angle it more of the like, unsettled/worked up direction.

Never having considered himself spoiled, there was still something incredibly jarring about going from being the crowned prince of Isaach to an exile seemingly overnight. Being sent to Verdane with his aunt, only to hear the stories about how Isaach's king was soon felled within the coming weeks. Even just hearing the words the kings death were enough to leave him wakeless.

Unable to fall asleep without his aunt by his side, it only grew worse when Cimbaeth used him as blackmail. Forcing Ayra to commit abhorred acts all because Shannan couldn't find the strength to resist himself.

And with the loss of both Deirdre and Ayra, more tales followed to haunt the 14 year old each night he stayed in that orphanage. Not knowing of the fate that befell them, all Shannan knew was fire. Fire burned everything to the ground, and anyone who survived that hellish, scorching heat, met the business end of a spear, sword, or axe.

Was it better that he didn't see them executed, or worse that he was left to his own devices to imagine such a death?

Even now, fully grown, those waking nightmares still managed to plague his resting mind.

He wakes not with a scream, nor gasp, but a jolt. Body stiff and frozen as he lays in bed. Head turning about, he has to remember where he is. Once that bridge is crossed, hands come to his forehead, scratching at some itch that never existed in the first place. Those roughened pads slide down his face, dragging his skin along with them.

Sitting there for a moment, the sheets are quickly discarded. An actual shirt is thrown on, and his room is left void of life. He needed a walk. Eyes locked on the boots he wore, he doesn't notice the youngest Nordion until they collide. Snapped from his wandering mind, there's a pause, before a relieved smile crosses his face.

"Lachesis. My apologies. I... had a nightmare, and wasn't paying attention. Needed some fresh air. Are you alright..." He asks, slowing his pace to walk back to her room alongside the girl, if only for a short moment.

"Ah, well. It was about Belhalla. I was never there but," hesitation. "Regrets about the death caused by it all. I wish I could say it was something new but..." Suddenly, there are two warm arms to embrace him, and there's a shocked expression. Slowly, his own arms wrap back around the other, sharing a momentary embrace, before breaking away.

"I appreciate that, truly. I should get back to my room though. Please, have a good nights rest."

[odsfinest]

❰❰ HURT ❱❱ sender is hurt protecting receiver

//Just in case once more. Mild gore. Maybe not so mild as I keep writing this--

Fighting alongside his aunt was nothing more than a dream a few months ago. He can't decipher whether it's a blessing or a curse that he gets to fight at her side now. Having a comrade who can match the pace he set was definitely a bonus, but after all the fighting he's done, there isn't much of a desire to shed needless blood.

Yet even as the inheritors of astra battle against these foul monsters, there's still a very pressing issue of numbers.

Holding out for more knights to back the two professors up, they're still human, and fatigue is starting to set in. Seeing a smaller beast try and take his aunt causes him to lunge forward.

"Ayra! Watch out!" Blade meeting its soft underbelly, the strength behind that slice lifts the enemy up, before getting slammed down, only to pull the blade back. Yet, in his desire to protect Ayra, he leaves himself open.

Leaving himself open, his aunt then steps in to protect him, just as he had. Unfortunately, the monster gunning for him is about twice their size this time around. A powerful arm thrust launches Ayra against a tree. Her pained gasp is just barely audible. Wincing at the sight of her, there's just this one beast left.

Hunched forward, his swords sweeps around, dropping to his knee as he left a visceral wound against the creatures own legs. Then, grasping Balmung in both hands, the blade meets its gut, dragging through tough flesh and bones. The blood spraying out onto the swordsman, he doesn't slow himself.

Once the blade is freed from the freshly made carcass, the monster falls back, stomach and chest cut freshly open. It's exposed muscles and meat twitch, the body still quite alive even if the creature isn't.

The blade is sheathed, Shannan making his way over to his aunt, kneeling by her side.

"Ayra! Are you alright? I'm so sorry. If I hadn't been so reckless..." he starts, helping the woman to her feet. He's taller, so he's hunched yet again, helping her to walk. "That's all of them. We just have to get you back to the monastery... Thank you, for having my back..." his voice remorseful. His own weakness led to Ayra getting hurt, yet again. He'll just have to be better, next time.

[odsfinest]

❰❰ CRY ❱❱ sender cries in front of receiver

Betrayal was never easy, no matter how large or little the issue may be. Even what may just be a harmless little lie is a betrayal of trust. Finding out about those harmless lies leads to fractured relationships, and those small schisms grow and grow, festering until something finally breaks.

That was no way to treat a friend, though as Elise continued to describe this issue, it sounded less like a friend, and more like manipulation.

Even now, as tears trickle down those flushed cheeks, Shannan contemplates whether he should encourage her to keep trying. Perhaps it'd be best to just most past this friend, since these tears were all too common from the sound of it.

"Elise, you're a kind soul. You see the good in everyone, and want them to do the right thing. But the potential you see in other people isn't always real. Sometimes, it's the projection of what you would do in their position. If this is a consistent issue, I think it may be best to not talk to this person anymore." It was never easy to ask someone to forget those bonds, but these feelings weren't meant to be ignored.

Still, his arm reaches around the Nohrian, pulling her into a light side hug. Rubbing her shoulder, he'd draw back.

"I can't make you leave them behind, but sometimes walking away will bring them to follow." Stepping towards the door of his office. "You can stay here so long as you like, as long as you don't break anything. Just give it some thought." He'd been keeping Larcei waiting too long, and was already prepared for an earful from her.

[odsfinest]

❰❰ PULL ❱❱ ❰❰ CHIN ❱❱ / the triple whammy                a symphony of irons & silvers clash, screeching against each other .  it sings out like a rhapsody in whetstones as the blades break apart . yet another evening but to marisa, nothing felt better than a late-night sparring session and thankfully, shannan was a more than suitable partner for her practices. they’ve been at a standstill of draws and lucky outcomes but marisa wasn’t going to rest without at least two points on her side. she rushes at him & he makes for her left side,  assuming that her right is the more dominant hand.  unlucky guess for him.  an opportunity comes to light as she tosses her sword into her left hand and parries his swing,  forcing enough momentum with her movements to hopefully make up for her disadvantage in strength.  she grits her teeth as she drags the sword overhead, metals clash loudly.  both of their grips shake violently.      “    sorry but it’s my turn.    ”      she growls under her breath, willing to take her chances on this swing. she lowers her sword and drops to heels with sword over her head as a precaution,  her right hand balancing her stance. she goes for a sweep barely managing to hinder his balance.  she quickly bounces back on her feet and grabs him, pulling against her and her blade pushed between them and raised against his neck.     “    caught you.    ”      it comes off as hush whisper. as the adrenaline finally wears down she notices how both of their breaths running ragged & drenched in sweat, clearly exhausted from the spar. feeling her fuchsia strands sticking to her neck. she chuckles, bubbling up between her lungs. it was definitely the work out she wanted. she raises her gaze at him, letting herself play off a smirk as she taps his chin with the hilt of her sword.  “     ah, i got lucky this time. but, future reference. my left side is my stronger side.     ”    her tone is dismissive and playful. the smirk pulls into a smile as she finally lowers her sword.

Ah, just a second longer and he might've been able to make it a draw. Yet his pride doesn't bruise easy. She caught him on the drawback, sword readied for a strike that surely would've put her away. Even so, the dissonance of their battle must end somewhere.

Just moments before, while she never crumbled nor faltered, it was clear that he controlled the pace set. Up until this point, neither party had made any daring moves, and neither party really knew the others weakness. It was a true standstill. Perhaps too much respect was given, but it was better to be respectful of frailty than to be ignorant of strength. Still, they couldn't be here all day. So, even if patience was far from exhausted, Shannan made a daring strike at his sparring partner.

It was a gamble as to whether her left or right was weaker, so he relied on his own intuition. His left was weakest, as was the case for many swordmasters. So he takes a quick step, bringing his blade back far to try and crack through this girls defense.

Well, she parried that strike incredibly well. Yet even so, she can't put the battle away yet. His blade rebounds, meeting hers with a loud 'clank,' grunting out as she began her final offense.

A rather powerful kick does disorient him, though only for a moment. Boots back on the ground, his shoulder meets her chest, and he goes for a very risky spin, which... well, neither of the shoulder nor the spinning strike was a smart idea. Holding him tight, his blade is still a good few feet from being where he wanted it, and hers is pressed right to his chin. Head tilted back, his eyes calm.

Letting his blade lower, he acknowledges his defeat. "You're quicker than I anticipated. I won't be so reckless next time." Even so, there's a grin. And her own acknowledgement leads to a dismissive handwave. "Please. You're very skilled, and clearly talented. I can see your work, and it's impressive."

Gazing up at the stars, a deep, calming breath escapes. Chest so defined, rising with each deep breath, before compressing with a slow sigh. A hushed, "Hmph," escapes a bitten lip. It'd been years since he trained Larcei like this, or since he's been trained by his father or aunt. And just like always, it was those restless sparkles high above that sought to remind them of the time.

"I've got a class tomorrow. I'd love to train more, but I'm calling it there." Gaze falling on the other, he puts his hand out, taking her sword. "I'll get these put away. Go get some rest." Taking both swords in one hand, the other comes to the back of her head, pulling Marisa in for a hug. It's oddly intimate, almost as if offering some kind of protection.

Once he pulls back, there's a sudden realization. This isn't kin, this is a fellow knight. Clearing his throat, he silently turns around and walks to do exactly as he said.

Somehow, that was more embarrassing than the loss.

[odsfinest]

❰❰ GAZE ❱❱ our muses make extended eye contact

"You look real familiar. You sure I never met ya before?"

Being asked if Shannan has met someone before is a tall order. He's met far too many people to remember every face and name that went along with it. That being said, that green hair was unmistakable. It had to be Le-

No. No it's not Lene. Perhaps it's someone from Sigurd's army? Lene's mother? Erinys? Lewyn?? No, none of those three. Eyes narrowed, really trying to place who this girl might be? Could be one of Lewyn's kids... no, didn't look like him enough. Fee? Nope, not Fee. Racking his brain, this has to be someone from the army, right? Then, there's a moment of realization!

"Oh, you must be one of the girls from the orphanage, right? Where Edain and I stayed for a while?" Unless, of course, she was someone from Silesse after they liberated it. That might make his comment seem insensitive. He knew not of the exploits that Shannam got up to in his free time.

"I'm glad you managed to make your way here though. Pursuing an education is quite important," he reminds her, deciding that if he mistook her for someone else, she couldn't really be that upset. He did have more pressing matters at that point in his life.

[odsfinest]

❰❰ +LIFT ❱❱ sender carries receiver over their shoulder

Can Shannan. Just read. Two pages. In peace? She better thank the twelve that they aren't at the beach anymore.

Sitting in the knights barracks, the quiet is much appreciated. His fondness for these books and this moment stems from the victim of what's to come and her brother, actually. Having read bedtime stories when they were younger to try and help them sleep. Namely for the current assailant. Speaking of which...

Hearing a creak in the floorboard, the words stop registering. His entire focus shifts, though his body remains still. Slowly, he reaches for the bookmark on the table just to the side of the sofa he sits on, before shutting the book. Ears twitch as another creak is heard. With the book set down, he stands, bracing for whatever is skulking around in the shadows.

Suddenly, there's a flash of purple lunging at him, holding a training sword. Even with such a dull blade, Shannan lets out quite a surprised, "Ah!" Sidestepping Larcei's lunge, his arms wrap around her waist. He hoists the younger Isaachian up, before slamming her right into the sofa where he sat. A deep sigh of relief once she's identified, but that then leads to another issue.

"Larcei! In the barracks?! I thought you were an actual threat..." while that wasn't meant to be an insult, it definitely comes off as a jab at her. He grunts, before saying, "That's it. You're going to your room."

Suddenly, Larcei is lifted up and slung over his shoulder. Then, he takes the sword she tried him with, and heads out of the knights lounge. Despite whatever kicking and screaming and squirming she may try, he doesn't let go.

It's funny, how Larcei tries to be so much like her mother, yet is so vastly different in so many ways. But he can't break her heart. That being said, she still has to known the pecking order. The sword is promptly brought back to the armory, before Larcei is brought to her room.

With a grunt, she's offloaded onto her bed, and he points at her, "Now sit and think about why bringing a sword into the barracks is a bad idea!" There's no real anger in his voice, nor does he even really mind the surprise attack. The issue was that the room had an active fireplace in use (which thankfully didn't get interfered with).

As he walks out of her room, he smirks, before calling back, "And next time, try and be quieter! I'd expect someone as small as you would be better at that!"

[odsfinest]

❰❰ HURT ❱❱ sender is hurt protecting receiver !!

//This isn't even that graphic imo but juuuust in case.

Intensity like this is an old friend, one that Shannan could never forget. That tightness in his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in his ear, that slight ache in his lungs from heavy breaths; oh how he didn't miss this close confidant.

Perhaps it's this familiarity with the heat of battle that creates comfort, even while pressured. For the most part, his adversaries speed isn't even comparable to his, allowing for evasion with ease. While Balmung continues to feed off the crimson plasma spilled, one enemy does manage to go undetected. A thief, ready to deliver a rugged stab to Shannan's back. While it probably wouldn't have done too much to the Isaachian, someone clearly thought it a more prudent issue.

With a deafening scream behind him, his attention pivots from the enemy just felled. Behind him, Ophelia, with a dagger lodged deep into her stomach. Watching the small girl stagger back, clutching the handle, there's not a moment of thought that goes into his next action.

Those flailing strands of raven hair don't get a moment to settle his next step forward puts him between the young girl and the thief. One slash would've done the scrawny man in, but even as that blade cleaves through cloth and flesh alive, Shannan doesn't stop. A hot red streak blinds him in one eye, yet that doesn't slow the swordsman down. The poor thief coughs and hacks harder, blood dribbling down his chin, yet there's no sympathy or remorse in any strike that follows.

Nimble hands pull Balmung back to swing again, only to slash down, then back up, all in the blink of an eye. His boot meets the crooks chest, kicking him back with no respect. Flipping his sword, the palm of his other hand meets the butt of his handle, only to force that blade straight through their chest.

As the bloodied holy weapon is yanked out, the enemy falls over. A sigh escapes, before sheathing that stained sword. With arrows soaring overhead, definitely not targeting the two, there's a moment to get back to the young mage. With ease, she's lifted up, held close to his chest.

Those tears of hers pain him, but definitely not as much as that dreadful wound must hurt her. "Don't finick with it, it'll hurt more without the knife. You'll be okay," he whispers, already seeing reinforcements and healers coming to support them.

[odsfinest]

diadic​:

something old, something new — gold round ( team four )

    Lord Shannan really was a sight to behold… one of the crown jewels in shows of the full extent of what a majorblood could be. Even if he’s mysteriously taking damage, Shannan doesn’t let that sway his sword arm too much. No, even without Balmung, Shannan is a master of the blade, and his strikes are a work of art as much as they are lethal to their enemies.

Leif was in no room to rival that, but he can suck up his pride and create an opening then. If he could bewitch and ensnare the trickster from before to only see him, he figures he can do it again.

He wants to do it again.

Leif casts Candlelight against Red Beast at range. 1d20 roll: 19. Hit! (-3.5HP) Red Beast’s HP: 10/34. Enemy unable to counterattack. All enemies will be unable to counterattack for their next turns. Seal Movement activates! Red Beast will be unable to attack anyone except Leif for one round.

He wields his candlestick again, taking a deep breath and channels its magic, aimed straight at the monstrous phantom still standing. It works like a charm, harming the beast and stealing his attention way— a gaze Leif meets head on, strangely fearless.

Look at me. Look at me! Look at me!!   // @odsfinest​​

This was it. The beast was distracted by Leif, unable to defend itself, practically limping. Even so, this shooting pain in his chest persists. He’d best not stay too long thinking about this. It’s time to put this enemy away for good! 

Throwing his arm back, sword ready, he whips the reigns, yelling, “Let’s go, Sucre!” Eyes narrow as the Kinshi darts forward, unyielding. Once again, his belief that these mounts are braver than men persists.

Shannan takes Minor Poison damage. (-0.5HP) Shannan’s HP: 9.5/10. Shannan uses Hagakure Blade against Red Beast. 2d20 roll: 4+4, 4+4. Hit. (-10HP). Red Beast’s HP: 0/34. He funkin’ ded lmao. Shannan takes -2 damage from Hagakure Blade. Shannan’s HP: 7.5/10.

Leif, Ethlyn, and Volug standing behind him, every beast leading up to this moment flashes through his mind. Never once was their doubt in whether he and his comrades could finish this pesky challenge. And now, it was his duty to them to kill this wicked monster.

His sword, his blood and sweat, his fists, his bow. No certainty, just adaptability. That was what Isaach was known for, no? Having the short end of the stick, invasion after invasion. No more.

“Isaach, Give me your strength!”

Both hands grasp the hilt, and as the blade connects with its thick neck, he roars, putting his whole chest into pushing the blade forward. A dark, thick cut starts to split the creature. But he isn’t done yet. Sucre caws out as Shannan flies up with it, before diving back down. Another battle cry escapes, a swift strike coming to the other side of the beasts head to separate it clean from rest of its body. 

And even after the enemy falls, another sharp pain shoots through his arms, and he mutters a soft, “Gods...” before tossing that cruddy sword to the ground.

“Good job, Sucre...” he whispers, before commanding it to regroup. “Good work, everyone. Thank you, for everything.” He gives a respectful nod, still staying mounted. He’s gonna miss this silly chicken once they’re done...

End

[odsfinest]

wildheartlaguz​:

something old, something new — gold round ( team four )

With the shadowy figure dissipating back into nothingness, only the beast remains. He gnashes his teeth and flaps his wings threateningly, but Volug isn’t impressed. He has sharp claws, but that’s all. Volug would normally dignify a fellow beast with a fight in his wolf form, but he sees no reason to honor a monster. 

He swings his sword, the cold steel cutting into the beast’s hide. He snaps and yowls at the pain, but whatever magic Leif cast prevents him from actually doing any damage to the laguz.

Volug uses Sword of Zoltan against Red Beast. 1d20 roll: 16+6. Hit! (-2.5HP) Dazzle activates! Red Beast’s HP: 31.5/34. Enemy unable to counterattack. Galeforce activates! 

Once again, he feels energized after attacking, but someone else would be better off with this energy. Volug passes the proverbial ball to Shannan, who is much better with a sword than he is. He calls out, “Attack again.” 

Volug casts Refresh on Shannan. Shannan can now act again.

@odsfinest​

There’s something about the way that man moves. Shannan feels reinvigorated after such a proud display of energy. And who is he to refuse a strike at this hideous apparition. 

Shannan uses Hagakure Blade against Red Beast. Windsweep Activates. 1d20 roll: 4+4. Hit. (-6HP). Red Beast’s HP: 25.5/34. Enemy unable to counterattack. Shannan takes -1 damage from Hagakure Blade. Shannan’s HP: 7/10.

“Alright, Sucre!” This is his bird now, and his bird hears loud and clear. Lunging in once more, his swords begins to shine brighter. Verdant winds start to spin around the cursed sword, and with clear eyes, he slashes downwards. 

The hurricane-like currents flow forward, striking the enemy, before another series of shooting pains hit him. This sword... Balmung was a blessing compared to this masochistic blade.

@ladyleonster​