if i look back, i am lost
ojovivo
Origami Around
DEAR READER
dirt enthusiast
todays bird
Cosmic Funnies
tumblr dot com
Show & Tell
titsay
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
ellievsbear
No title available
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Not today Justin
Three Goblin Art
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
PR's Tumblrdome
RMH
seen from United States
seen from Austria
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
@princepsumbra
Young Prince of Nohr
princepsumbra ; ToA affiliated Leo (Fire Emblem: Fates) as penned by Sam.
𓆱 Leo is from his post-Conquest, unpaired ending
𓆱 Assistant Dark Magic Professor at Garreg Mach Academy; Unaffiliated Staff
𓆱 I typically use small text with Leo; please let me know if you’d prefer regular text
𓆱 Quick Links: [ stats | about ]
𓆱 Icon & Banner credits to Alina, sidebar by Apticho
25. Thanks for everything....
He has not yet spoken of all that transpired some months ago. Leo's used to compartmentalizing traumatic events; packing them away into neat little boxes in a corner of his mind is, simply put, the Nohrian Way.
It has taken quite an effort on his part to unlearn this coping mechanism.
"Ah, Bruno. I'm glad we have this chance to speak. I wanted to extend my gratitude for all your help during our...mission," Leo says, faltering a bit on the last word. He shakes his head once, as if to clear it. "Have you recovered well?"
perfect teatime? | no longer accepting thanks for everything...
He is alive, along with the rest of them. The rot that may continue to persist in dreams no longer plagues him in reality. They sit in peace, drinking tea in the comfort of the summer bliss, instead of feeling irrational fear loom above their heads with the constant flickering of lights. He can tell Leo that he is well; the term itself is vague enough that Bruno can still claim it for himself.
Bruno's cup of tea is nearly filled to the brim. Regardless, he tops it off. He adds more tea from their empty kettle into his cup, then Leo's, letting its last droplets dribble from the spout. With each drop, he feels he hears it again — the pop of his own knuckles — and the kettle is set down shortly thereafter.
"You are," he hesitates, "too kind for your gratitude, Leo. For all that I've done in the mirror... I can only apologize in response."
He folds his hands, fingertips digging into the worn fabric of his gloves. It's hard to look at Leo for long, but he makes an effort to maintain normality — whatever that may mean now. Bruno is well. Leo must be, too, with the way his voice loses its stability on something as seemingly simple as thanks.
(but that must be because it is your fault.)
"I am well though, as well as one can be." His head tilts forward, bowing in further apology to Leo. "I do hope that you have been... faring well, too."
"Thank you," Leo murmurs, perfunctory, watching the ripples of liquid break against the rim of his teacup.
He's quiet as he considers his words. "While I appreciate and accept the apology, please do not feel guilty for succumbing to a power beyond your understanding." Meaning lies heavy on his tongue; there is a difference between willingly handing yourself over and being an unwitting sacrifice.
The cup clinks softly against the saucer as Leo lifts it, taking a small sip of tea. "I have. In fact, since you're here, Bruno, I did want to ask about your knowledge of magic."
Setting the cup down, Leo leans forward, all thoughts of past transgressions now gone in the face of a discussion about magic. "You seem quite adept; I'd love to hear how your country's techniques differ from mine."
Do You Even Skate?
Her big, shiny eyes glittered in happiness as soon as Leo agreed with her request, a gentle tilt of her head as a way to show gratitude and pleasure in his compliance; she has always nurtured a soft yet genuine feeling towards Leo, even though not everything in the past was so peaceful and serene. Years have passed, but Sakura has learned to forgive, to make peace with herself and with the ones who betrayed her –she was a tender heart, after all, she knew nothing but love, affection and care. She was raised like that.
As he left in search of the so-called merchant, Sakura turned to stare at the young couples in the icy pond, pondering about what Leo said about them not being magical at all: she kept herself nearby the pond, not too close as the icy surface was pretty large, but close enough to observe the footwears each student was wearing. Odd, by the way they move, they seem like to fly on the ice, she thought to herself, right hand on the chin in a pensive expression as she kept on observing their movements.
Yet, the focus swiftly moved as she heard a familiar voice, a turn of her head to face the young Nohrian prince once again. “You’re back!” she chirped, hands clasped together in excitement, “And not empty-handed, I see” she peaked at the shoes, finally getting a closer look at them: it was like a pair of boots, but with a hollow beneath the sole. Lost in her own thoughts, Sakura absently nodded at the suggestion to sit, following Leo to a nearby bench, which then directly head inside the pond.
With a soft movement, she sat on the bench, patiently waiting for Leo to explain the procedure, even though he said that he would do the assembly with the boots. “I’ll trust your abilities, but.. are you sure you want to do it?” she suddenly got timid for a moment, a shyness that let her cheeks burnt red, despite the cold weather already did much. “I-I’ll wear the boots, then you’ll mount the blades, right?” she lowered her gaze, then timidly picked a pair of boots, fretting the process to change her own shoes with the new ones.
“I’m ready” she shifted her glance on him, offering one of her legs and foot, embarrassed but truly curious to see the result.
He waits for her to settle, then kneels down, momentarily ignoring the faint cold creeping in through the fabric of his pants. "I appreciate your confidence," he replies thoughtfully, carefully resting her booted foot atop his knee.
There's a pause as he meets her gaze. "Skating? In all honesty, no, I'm not sure I want to do it. However," Leo returns his attention to the skates in his hand, "holding myself back from new experiences will only hinder my growth. As a child, I was quite eager to attempt anything, so long as my older brother did if first."
He falls quiet as he slips the skate onto her boot. Brows pinch as he gives the piece of metal one final tug to ensure its on securely. Satisfied, he sets her foot down and repeats the process with her other. "But I've forgotten how nice it can be, trying something without any expectation other than enjoyment."
Above all, you asked, Leo thinks, brushing snow off his knees as he stands. He clears his throat. Sits beside her and affixes his own skates, mindful not to accidentally jostle her with a wayward elbow.
Once finished, he again rises, arms flung out to the sides as he tries to find his balance. Pink rushes to his cheeks. "Ah. This is--" Leo attempts a small step, a sigh of relief escaping as he remains upright. "Unique."
⌞ this pond ain't big enough for the both of us.⌝
[ anniversary 2025 ] - lance + 1
Naesala is not a gentleman in any sense of the word, but he appreciates the tone in which the duel is offered. He's never been gentle, and he's certainly not a man, but the sentiment has him smiling nonetheless.
He hears a cheer behind him -- whether it's for either himself or the professor in front of him, he cannot be sure. It doesn't really matter to him, he's going to pretend there's an audience watching. It makes it all the more exciting.
He raises the oar. His eyes are narrowed, and he looks equal parts nefarious and playful. "Finally! Someone who has an air of seriousness about them. Fellow colleague, shall we duel until one of us is soaked to the bone?"
He runs a hand through his blue-black hair and readies the oar to strike, as if to strike. "Are you ready?"
There's a distant cheer. Leo's mouth twitches into a brief frown; he's not doing this to become a spectacle. He resists the urge to look and confirm if the cry was directed at him, both to deny the guilty party potential satisfaction and allow his opponent a cheap shot while his attention is directed elsewhere.
"The rules are acceptable." Leo pauses. "Or until one of us admits defeat."
With that, he raises the oar, gloved fingers tightening in preparation. "Ready," he agrees.
Duel etiquette observed, he dips one end of the oar into the rippling lake, the action meant more as a test of Naesala's reactions than a true attack.
[Roll: 16!]
Another cheer rises; annoyed, Leo flicks his paddle out of the water too soon. A glittering arc follows, wayward droplets landing harmlessly atop his own canoe. Water splashes onto Naesala despite the clumsy technique.
The prince allows himself a small, satisfied smile. "First blood goes to me."
No Stuffed Animals Allowed
He gives her a half-smile. "But all the color can be overwhelming. Why do you think I still spend so much time holed up inside?"
His tone is mostly teasing; part of him now worries Elise suffers from the same light sensitivity he does. None of his siblings have ever mentioned it, so he assumed it yet another one of his imperfections. How long as she been dealing with this on her own?
"Elise. Do you get headaches if you're out in the sun for a prolonged period? Even at home, on our rare sunny days, or during our campaign in Hoshido, I'd find myself needing to find shade at some point."
Or he'd endure the pain pounding at his temples and unintentionally take out his mood upon undeserving soldiers. Battlefields do not care for such trivial things like a migraine.
Muffin halts. Faustus takes another step forward, then follows suit, craning neck back as if to seek Leo's permission. "It's alright, boy," the prince murmurs. Faustus huffs, either at the reassurance or Elise's antics with Muffin, Leo can't tell.
The hill isn't that far away. And it will make her happy; a couple more minutes walking won't harm any of them. Leo sighs heavily. The twitch of his lips gives him away. Sometimes, it's fun to be the one teasing, instead of receiving it. "The hill it is, then."
He taps Faustus' flanks. "We're almost there, Muffin. Will an extra apple entice you?"
Humming, Elise brings a hand up to her chin — like all smart thinkers do, the pose is how the thinking happens, duh— head tilting slightly to the side. “Uhm… A little? I dunno if I’d call it a ‘headache’. It’s less like a dull-y blegh and more like a KA-POW! BANG! You know?”
So she says, but what even is a headache? She assumed it was less obvious than the attack that is looking directly at the sun (Or just. Existing in it.), but maybe it is the same? She’d never really given it too much thought, but whatever it is, if Leo has it too, then it must be normal for everybody! Hooray! What a relief to have this thing she wasn’t worried about be nothing to worry about.
“I guess I’ve never had it do that indoors, either, so maybe… but it’s alright! I’m strong, so I can handle it! Besides, even if it does hurt a little bit, it’s more fun to play outside! And being out in the sun means we get to see all sorts of pretty things! Like….” Fortunately, her brother’s infinite wisdom is infallible yet again, and Muffin cooperates now with the promise of apples, allowing her to trot him up the hill just enough to see the valley beyond. And she’s not at all salty he’s more willing to listen to bribery than he is to her. No. Not at all.
“Yes, yes, YES! It’s here! Leo, c’mon, look! Look!”
He dips his head in a slow nod. Yes, he does know, all too well. She barrels on, oblivious to his rising concern. Leo admires her positive spirit--she is strong, and enjoying life as it comes is for more important to her than dealing with any physical ailment.
An admonishment rises in his throat. He's quite familiar with the consequences of pushing through a headache. But Elise knows her own limits; if the discomfort is minimal enough she can ignore it, then there's no reason to make her feel bad over something she's has under control.
Swallowing the words, he tries again. "Well. Sounds like you're handling it well. Promise me, though, that if you ever start to feel ill, you'll tell me."
Cresting the hill, his worries fade in the wake of her excitement. Below them spreads a sea of wildflowers--some blooming early, others not yet ready to share their colors with the world.
Of course she'd find something as beautiful as this hiding away. "You weren't lying, Elise. This is a field of super pretty flowers." He scans the landscape, looking for an appropriate clearing where they can break for lunch. "There," he says softly, as if speaking any louder will ruin the view. "That patch of grass is perfect for a rest."
He considers a moment, then dismounts from Faustus. The horses have carried them this far, and the clearing is only a handful of feet away. Looping the reins around one hand, Leo inclines his head. "I've enjoyed our little adventure so far."
gallowed halls
"...That's true," Katarina agrees with a slow nod. "We should be looking for evidence both in favor and to the contrary of ghosts..." Her gaze narrows almost imperceptibly. "There's always the potential for the latter to hide some greater scheme..."
But then she shakes her head, fingers lightly tapping the space between her brows. It would be a shame to sour the conversation with idle suspicions when it's been such a pleasant evening thus far, all things considered. Her expression eases, a half amused, half abashed huff slipping past her lips.
"...I doubt that's the case, though. But, yes..." Following after him, they take the path less traveled by. "If I remember correctly..." Gray eyes flit across the stone walls, standing as tall and imposing as ever; it's hard to imagine that something might ever tear them down. "...there are more places to hide small items here than by the back entrance. There--" She points further up, where a decorative line of stone juts out from the wall, creative a slight ledge. "--and there, too." This time she directs his attention toward a scenic gap in the otherwise stalwart fortress walls.
One could assume that there wasn't much to look for beyond the railing, given the great height of the cathedral, but Katarina isn't so quick to discount the possibility. Wandering toward the edge, she slowly walks the length of it but finds nothing out of the ordinary -- no scuff marks, no unusual amounts of dirt or smudging. Placing her palms against the stone, she leans over cautiously...
"...It wouldn't be so bad to be a ghost, here." Beneath her the trees stretch out into a verdant sea, the sun glittering across them as it would with any wave. The scenery is so peaceful, so beautiful, she finds herself venturing another attempt at conversation despite her, ah, lack of aptitude for it.
"...Is flying much different from riding?" Katarina asks, a question softly spoken, as if unsure if she should. "...Sorry. I was looking at the trees, a-and then I was curious..."
A greater scheme is possible, but unlikely. Given the total lack of evidence thus far, and the scant sightings of this ghost, Leo's inclined to believe this is the operation of a singular person.
Katarina reaches the same conclusion. He nods, then realizes she can't see him. "I hold the same doubts. This feels like the work of a dedicated individual." Leo follows her line of sight, suitably impressed she's noticed such small details. Others would discount them, or overlook their potential value entirely.
He peers into one of the crevices, oddly disappointed at finding nothing beyond a few desiccated leaves. Nothing sticks out to him--no oddly clean bricks signifying a recent passerby, no torn scraps of fabric caught on the rough edges of stone. Their ghost maybe be exactly that.
Slowly, Leo makes his way to her side, both out of precaution for her safety and the undeniable tug he feels towards the forest. It spreads out below them in shades of dark green and brown, so full of life his blood almost sings in response.
In truth, he can't disagree with her. There are far worse things to stare at for all eternity.
"I don't mind questions," Leo replies, looking at her in his periphery. "Fundamentally, I would assume no. Riding a mount--on the ground or in the sky--requires trust. Skill." He tilts away from a stripe of sunlight, remaining in the shadow cast by the cathedral.
Out of all Nohr's royal children, only one sought the skies. "There are advantages and disadvantages to both. My older sister would likely say flying is by far superior to riding." The corners of his lips twitch. "But if you're asking for specifics, then my answer would be yes. I've not left the ground since I was a child, so my knowledge of flying is limited and severely outdated. Everything I know is either from what I've read or heard my sister speak."
Now he turns to face Katarina fully. "I suggest trying both, at least once. Perhaps some hidden talent will make itself known."
wholesome, loathsome
There had been three couples that had caught her eye, upon setting foot in this picturesque little town, each quaint and charming in their own manner, and she was all the more grateful when two of them had erupted into cheers of recognition at seeing one another, and grouping themselves at one table, rather than separate ones.
It made them easier to listen to, from here, although the noise in the café was doing her no favors on that front.
She fanned her hair out and seated herself comfortably, crossing one leg over the other to wait for her own beau to return, affecting the very picture of nonchalance – it was not to the greatest effect that Lachesis would have preferred, as the larger group stiffened and watched her in silence for a moment, before leaning in close to one another and whispering undertone.
A few flicked glances back let her know without doubt that she was the subject of their conversation, but she ignored it for the moment, turning her attention as best she could to the remaining couple.
"...t was the larges...ve ever seen!"
"But how did...rd it? That can't have been..."
"...was! But don't tell...yone...y'll have my..."
"What?"
Lachesis' eyes snapped back to the man that had been on her arm, and she bridled gently at the question, taking a short breath to soothe the crease in her brow. It wouldn't do to seem so agitated up front, and he had done nothing wrong but speak - even if he had drowned out the other conversations with his voice.
A sigh, gentler, and Lachesis cocked her head. "If the tea calls for it. One cannot always take every tea in the same way. They are like horses or men – a different touch is called for."
She put on a pretty smile for the waitress who appeared as though on cue, depositing the cozied pot of tea and the two tasses, pouring for him first, and then for herself.
A delicate sip, and a scrunch of her nose. "This one does not call for it," she reported with a frown.
Her irritation flees as quickly as it arrived. Leo's own brows twitch, but he does not press the point. If she has an issue with him, that's on her to speak up or remain silent.
Hands fold neatly atop the table. He manages to keep his expression blank this time, but only just. Lachesis certainly possesses an unique outlook on life--a metaphor he can, he must admit, somewhat understand.
The arrival of tea saves him from having to formulate an answer. Leo watches in silence as the drinks are poured neatly into their respective cups.
With a nod of thanks, he accepts his cup, unable to place the bitter note emanating from the dark liquid. Not strictly a sign of concern; he did not expect to encounter his usual blend in such a distant place.
Lachesis' reaction does give him a slight pause. Still, he sips carefully, lest he burn his tongue. It's not terrible--slightly more citrusy on the aftertaste than he prefers, but he can endure.
Leo sets the cup down. Casually sweeps his gaze across the dining room again, unperturbed by the glances flicking back at him. "We've made quite the impression already. Shall we press that to our advantage?"
𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂
bold what applies to your muse. italicize what sometimes applies. ( repost, don’t reblog! )
𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄
cloudless sky / ocean waves / winter dusk / deserted rest stops / dust filled book jackets / sea salt in your lungs / open space lofts / mountainside meditation / empty ski lodges / calm before storms / electric charged air / lighthouses / road trips with no destination / desert skies / summer breeze through a cottage window / cool air against water soaked skin / seaside towns during off season / wind-chimes / big bed with lots of blankets / coming home after a long time away / a wolf howling in the distance / fingers dancing along spine / a hug from an old friend / afternoon tea / wild flowers off abandoned highways
𝐑𝐄𝐃
wine soaked lips / internalized rage / blood on knuckles / four poster beds / barefoot on marble floor / velvet drapes / lipstick marks / murder mysteries / old barns with hay lofts / mouth full of weapons / possessive love / dark chocolate / apple orchard visits / handwritten letters / fresh strawberry fields / cherry flavored chapstick / soft candlelight / vintage pumps / tingles over your body / strong but gentle hand around your throat / scarf tied over your eyes / fog on a rainy night / intimate bar settings / complete destruction / kiss swollen lips / scratches against flesh / sitting by a fireplace / blood orange sunsets
𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖
community gardens / sunflower seeds / open fields / blowing dandelion fluffs / bubbles in spring / warm champagne / drafty cottages opened after winter / soft buzzing near your ear / loose braids / flaxen sundresses / handmade straw hats / warm butter on fresh toast / daisy chains / drum circles / sun on your face / maypoles / outdoor festivals / street food / car shows / pop art drawings / fruity flavors / mist on produce / running through sprinklers / cucumber water / wrap around porches / worn pages of a book / honey in tea / yard sales / freckled skin / tarnished gold lockets / angel food cake / windmills / flashlight beams
𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍
marshy swamps / cajun recipes / haunted graveyards / old road signs / the house people tell stories about / lights flickering / jazz music / twig snapping / campfires / ghost stories / urban exploration / vines creeping up brick / wooden flutes / quiet forests / labored breaths / hiking trails / rain on leaves / bonfires / fresh smoothies / water logged grottos / painful whispers from jealous lovers / successful business ventures / leaky cellars / park theater productions / mint scented lotions / ambitious promises / pine needle covered floors / oil lanterns / aloe on warmed skin / crushing floral foam / forgotten towns
𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊
crinkle of leather jacket / midnight walks / bulbs burning out / black lacquered nails / the sound of bats screeching / distant marching band music / noises when you’re home alone / blood soaked knife / dark lipstick on pale skin / scent of sulfur / soot on boots / slasher movies / glint of cat eyes in the dark / oil slicks on dark asphalt / basement bedrooms / investigating a noise / grainy camera footage / black and white photos / dust filled attics / empty theaters / whistling in the middle of the night / scratches at your window / wrought iron gates / lace neck ruffles / long floor sweeping skirts / broken music boxes / needle scratching on vinyl / lost memories / disembodied voices / forgotten faces
𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄
crisp scents / laundry on a line / fleece blankets / brightly lit hospital rooms / empty train stations / genuine laughter / feathers against skin / new life / cotton dresses / log cabins in winter / swan gliding through water / harp music floating through the air / plane rides for fun / mountain tops / ice sculptures / first snowflake of winter / linen freshly pressed / the scent of a running dryer / vanilla and cinnamon milk / a smile from a stranger / letters in the mail / a longing finally satiated / kiss of moonlight on skin / fresh canvas / snow glittering like diamonds / paint strokes / pretty lie told from a kind mouth / sparklers / coffee foam art
passionate darkness
⤷ ethereal ball 2025: second half.
For all Pelleas retreats so easily into his shell, there is an undeniable truth in that Pelleas also chooses the most destructive, most flashy, most rare magic out there for his bias. The wallflower is, in this way, not too different from the Viscount in his showy displays.
It could be seen as a sin, could be seen as too prideful or annoying, but despite this, Leo does not deliver nary a sigh nor any ire. Pelleas knows Leo wouldn't, but there's always a part of him that shall cringe and wince in anticipation, wondering for the day he might tire someone out.
Instead, he is given the praise Pelleas didn't even realize he was looking for, and Pelleas's smile blooms in full force for it.
“ ...! Th-Thank you, Leo! ” The initial surprise melts away, Pelleas bashfully scratching at the back of his hair as that flush of thrill from earlier remains instead for the soft joy in his heart.
“ I hope to one day use it for something useful. It's been so long since I've been of any help in any major mission for the monastery, ” he admits. “ The next time... I'd like to be seen as strong and capable, someone you can truly trust. It's for that reason I try so hard for my magic, in truth. ”
"You're welcome," he returns, not at all off put by Pelleas' reaction. It's not an easy thing, growing used to receiving the appreciation once denied all one's life. There's less hesitancy in the other mage's voice, now, a sure mark of his growing confidence.
Leo's mouth parts, momentarily taken aback. He knew he'd become a source of inspiration to Pelleas; but the entire reason for his dedication to pursuing new forms of magic?
He sips at his wine, both to clear his throat and give him a moment to collect his thoughts. "While we may not have fought side by side in a battle, you have more than earned my trust. I've met few mages as dedicated as you are." Another colorful burst of fireworks explodes in his peripheral vision. "Please, don't push yourself solely for my benefit. Others do rely on you, wether you know it or not."
Lightning streaks across the sky. Leo sighs. "I did not intend to make this an impromptu lecture. Though, perhaps we can reverse roles. Would you mind explaining the theory behind teleportation? It's not a form of magic native to my homeland."
⌞ this pond ain't big enough for the both of us.⌝
[ anniversary 2025 ] - lance + 1
A popular new leisure activity has sprung up, involving paddling small single-person canoes on the pond. Alongside this activity has sprung up a new, now-banned competition: canoe jousting. Knock your opponents into the water with your superior oar handling, and prove yourself as the best paddler in the Academy! [Grants Lance +1]
Naesala holds the oar in his hands. He's still uneasy with beorc tools, of course, but he likes the reach of this thing -- at this point, he's already knocked several people into the water and completely soaked them through. It's not out of malice, of course, but rather out of boredom. Since returning to the monastery there's not been as much fun to be had -- or, at least there has not been as much mischief to get into.
He spots someone else drifting along. His smile widens and he uses the oar -- without finesse -- to steer his way towards his new opponent. He wants a fair fight as the others have been too easy to truly enjoy.
He smiles as he calls out.
"There's a pirate on these waters! You'd better turn around before you're thrown into the abyss like the rest of them!"
@princepsumbra
He's supposed to be enforcing the rules, not participating. But somewhere between confiscating an oar from an overenthusiastic student splashing everyone in sight and helping a waterlogged professor out of their own canoe, Leo found himself drifting along the pond, now unwittingly involved in the game.
Water sloshes. Leo narrows his eyes at the newcomer. "A pirate?" He scoffs, one eyebrow raised. Leaving is an option--paddling away with as much dignity as a canoe affords and shuffling chaperone duties off on another poor soul.
But he's no coward. A challenge has been issued--as ridiculous as it is--and backing down is somehow more embarrassing than indulging this little game.
"I've no love for pirates," Leo retorts, dipping his oar into the rippling water. Someone yelps nearby; he ignores it. "And, I'm afraid, there's nothing here worth looting."
With another dip of his oar, he closes the distance between him and the winged man. "A joust between gentlemen, then?"
This Isn't The Great Fairy Fountain Theme
In the deepest part of the woods, townsfolk tell legend of a natural hot spring that’s said to host fairies. It’s unsure if the rumor is true but if you find your way there you will be met with the beautiful sight of hot springs. After coming such a long way, it’s natural to want to rest until your aches wash away. And what’s wrong with staying a little longer? An hour melts into several and the sun begins to wane and with it your sense of safety. Instead of restored, your energy feels sapped. It’d be best to stay until you’re fully better, right? It’s a long way back after all. But the longer you stay, the worse you feel, and with the increasing sense that you are someone - or something’s - prey. In fact, a demon lurks in these woods, and the hot springs are its trap. Is this even reality anymore, and how will you escape? [Grants Reason +1]
After an interminable amount of time trapped inside endless hallways with unforgiving, flickering lights and the imminent threat of magical corruption looming overhead, a hike through the forest sounds heavenly.
Practicality demands Leo at least acknowledge this legend is likely nothing more than a bedtime story spun by superstitious townsfolk. Proving these rumors true (or false) is secondary to spending his day outdoors, filling his lungs with fresh, earth-dampened air.
The hike itself is uneventful. Tranquil, in the softly noisy way a forest can be. Unseen creatures rustled in the underbrush. Birds flitted from tree branch to tree branch, whistling to one another. By the time he and Niles emerged from the treeline some hours after they had initially set off, the entire purpose of this excursion had nearly slipped Leo's mind.
His eyes slowly adjust to the late afternoon sunlight after the green-tinged shadows of the forest proper. Two pools of gently bubbling water spread out before him, bordered by large grey stones. Steam rises from the springs in faint coils, before dissipating into nothingness.
"Perhaps the fairies are taking a nap," Leo remarks dryly, slipping his pack off his shoulders. He looks over at Niles. "Shall we rest for awhile? I don't see the harm in it."
starter for: @nohrianoutlaw
[ ♫ ] ─ * 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐦𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭
#AMBlade2025 | the conjoining of Soul to Shame | team blade finale
Emma can read a room better than she has ever been able to read a battlefield. The tension is palpable, reunions happy and not-so- happen on borrowed time around her. She looks for a particular face, but she does not find it, and she's not sure whether or not that is better or worse.
It's not important. Well, it ought not be, even if it was, to her.
So Emma settles into the role that she has practiced. The little soldier girl nods, squinting to take account of everything and everyone on the scene. "Even... even if they might look like them, they're not our friends. If we can make it through them, we can save everyone."
She'll give that everything she has, even if she keeps her eyes peeled the whole way through.
Emma 10/10HP uses Brave Bow on Shadow Patty 12/12HP. [ Rolls: 1+2=3, 9+2=11, 14+2=16, 14+2=16, -(2.5*3)+2=7.5 HP, Shadow Patty: 4.5/12HP. Trample activates! Shadow Patty: 2.5/12HP.
She draws back her bow, but flinches, arrow flying haphazard from its string. Ow—the joints in her arms still hurt when forced to bear too much pressure. It's not just clumsiness, this time, it's a brash and intentional ignorance of her own limits. She's still not strong enough.
She nocks another arrow anyway.
How many people has she made promises to on the way here? She may be slow. She may be scatterbrained. She might zone out in class, she might hold her lance upside-down showing up late to training. She might not be talented, the way some other girls her age were. But that doesn't have to make her a liar, and it doesn't give her the right to give up.
So she fires. And again, and again. Three shots that stick into the barrel of that thing's torso like cactus spines, staggering it even if not killing it. One arrow short of killing it, but still three arrows more than were in it before.
That's something, isn't it?
Conversation flows around him. Puzzle pieces clicking into place, their missing companions returning. The dull sting of betrayal as he recognizes Berkut standing on the wrong side.
And in the center of it all, Abban's--Adham?--Grandmother. The patronizing, matronly tone chafes; he hated it as a child and he hates it now.
"We fight," he replies flatly to Dorothea. "I see no other path forward." Berkut has made his choice. Dwelling on regret or what-if's won't help them win this fight; if he wants wear the mantle of enemy, then Leo will treat him as such.
Two more figures appear by Grandmother's side, as if summoned by an invisible command. Some of Leo's poise falters. So these are the doppelgangers the others have spoken of. Strange, to see his face after so long without glancing in a mirror.
(Does he always have that pinch in his brow?)
Shaking himself, Leo ignores the vain thoughts and settles into a battle stance. What he'd give to have Faustus again!
SHADOW LEO 10/10HP hits Leo 10/10HP with Hades. [Roll: 15; -3, Leo 7/10HP]
False Leo raises his hands. A sigil forms beneath him, and Leo has a brief moment of relief it's not Brynhildr's familiar aura before he's caught within the Hades spell.
Seconds pass like minutes while the spell cloaks him in purple-tinged darkness. He drops to one knee, unable to withstand the weight, biting back a cry of pain.
It ends and he's immediately staggering upright, hand outstretched. Brynhildr's familiar incantation rises to his lips. The magic courses through him, culminating in ghostly tree branches spearing through False Leo's shoulder.
Leo 7/10HP hits SHADOW LEO 10/10HP with Brynhildr. [Roll: 10, -2.5, SHADOW LEO 7.5/10HP]
He lowers his hand. He must look as disheveled as he feels, but he can't find it within himself to care about appearance right now.
Poison Strike activates! [-1HP, Leo 6/10HP]
A sharp pain flares in his chest. Leo winces; it seems his false self's magic possesses the same poisonous after effect. Which means....
Poison Strike activates! [-1HP, SHADOW LEO 6.5/10HP]
He does not see a physical reaction, though he can only assume the poison is beginning its slow work.
@lionscion
Ḽ̷̃e̴͖̋t̷̖͂'̶͈̄ŝ̴̪ ̶̣̽g̶̟̈ȏ̵̖ ̷̖̉t̷͎̓ó̷͖ ̸̡͐t̸̠̏h̷̛͙ë̶̼́ ̴̛̲Ṁ̵͜ą̸̓ḷ̵̆l̵̼͐!
AMBlade2025 - Searching for a cure, Week 3
Gods above, that laugh is grating. Leo waits for the jackal--Orun--to finish speaking before deigning to reply.
"What you call daft is merely a form of respect," Leo replies as diplomatically as he can. His chest still feels tight. "We've more in our party who suffer from that same skin condition. Or do you only heal one person at a time?"
He eyes the vials again; with time, he's sure he could identify most of what's here, but book knowledge does not always equal practical knowledge. The actual creation of potions is something he's only dabbled in--his comment about accidentally creating a poison was not just a carefully aimed jab.
One shoulder lifts in a shrug. "What would you do, in my position? Give your trust over blindly? It would be silly to not ask a question or two first. Not to mention we did pay you in good faith."
If none of his more human arguments can sway Orun, perhaps the world's universal language will.
The effect is somewhat lessened as the cough Leo has valiantly kept at bay finally breaks free. Elbow instinctively rising to cover his mouth, normally proud shoulders curl inward, as he can hide away from those watching him.
"Khee hee hee. If I were in your position, I wouldn't be handing my well-earned tokens over to suspicious shopkeeps!" The jackal waves its purse full of coin noisily at you for good measure, but the satisfying jingle of their earnings is drowned by choked coughs.
"Mhmm, skin condition and a cough, one easier than the other to treat."
At a nearly inhuman speed, the jackal makes a round around the shop, collecting vials, dried herbs, other strange objects in the crook of one arm as they go. Then they haphazardly push aside a collection of oddities in the middle of the table to clear a workplace.
"For you," this is leveled at Leo as they grind herbs under a pestle and add them to a small jar, "hearty soup and relaxation. Season with this."
They hold up the jar, newly corked.
"On the house, of course. The other treatment will cost you though. And it will only be temporary. Ten tokens for a dose."
@princepsumbra @stormofembla
It is a bit late for advice about coins and shopkeeps, Leo thinks, slowly straightening as the coughing subsides. He blinks moisture from his eyes and smooths his hands down the front of his rumpled jacket.
The jackal moves, a whirlwind of clacking puppetry and glass vials. He watches, breath shaky, throat too raw to voice more questions. There's nothing more to be said, anyway. All his cards are on the table.
Tentative fingers accept the vial. "Thank you," Leo croaks out, folding it carefully into his palm.
"Of course," he repeats. Nothing worthwhile ever comes freely. Leo glances at Bruno, then sighs as he reaches for his coin purse. "A good thing you're not in my position."
Leo counts out the coins and hands them over. "One dose is more than we've had before."
Deal completed, Leo finally faces Bruno again, suddenly grateful the mask hides the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "We've kept everyone else waiting long enough."
--the end
"Did you help get me patched up?"
She doesn't know for certain, but Emma can hazard a guess. There were really only two people it could have been, after all, and one had been all the way at the top of that elevator shaft. Well, last she remembered, at least. She guesses anything could have happened, but she has a hunch, and she trusts it.
"Sorry you had to. I was trying to be careful. Really! I promise!" The girl waves her hands before realizing ow, that still hurts, sounding genuinely regretful. All she had wanted to do was find something only she could do to help, but in the end, she just found her own unique way to get into trouble. It's not a situation she's unused to, though, and so in a very familiar motion, she bends at the waist, bowing deeply. Ow, again. "But, um, more importantly, thanks a bunch. I really, really owe you one."
She raises her head back up, giving a pleading look.
"So, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, let me know, OK?"
She's upright and walking, and the sight brings with far more relief than Leo will ever let on. The flight for a healer after he abandoned retreated the elevator is a blur.
"I did," he replies with a dip of his chin. Her expression is once more vibrant, full of life. He has to remind himself of that, lest he forever torture himself with the image of her pale features as she struggled for breath.
He blinks underneath his mask. Why is she apologizing? The bow catches him off guard; no one here knows he's a prince! But it's a gesture of gratitude, not a recognizing of title. Is she from Hoshido?
Taken aback, silence hangs in the air for a heartbeat before he can formulate a reply. "I have no doubt you were. Please, do not feel the need to apologize to me." In fact--
"It is I who owe you an apology, Emma. Were I skilled in the arts of healing magic, I could have been of use." The words come out a little thick, like he's trying to scrape them of emotion and failing. "There is nothing to make up."
Again he thinks of Elise, how she'd try for humor in dour situations. The corner of his lips quirks up softly. "No more climbing anything without proper safety measures in place."
Ḽ̷̃e̴͖̋t̷̖͂'̶͈̄ŝ̴̪ ̶̣̽g̶̟̈ȏ̵̖ ̷̖̉t̷͎̓ó̷͖ ̸̡͐t̸̠̏h̷̛͙ë̶̼́ ̴̛̲Ṁ̵͜ą̸̓ḷ̵̆l̵̼͐!
AMBlade2025 - Searching for a cure, Week 3
Bruno opens his mouth at healed your fellow, before closing it rapidly. Instead, he turns to glance at Leo, raised eyebrow hidden under the mask. Perhaps recognizing that his unspoken question cannot be gleaned through the covers on their faces, he tilts his head to try and convey his concern: is what they say true?
It isn't long before they have his attention once again, however. At the mention of the cure, Bruno's head snaps back toward the jackal; he stands, frozen, even at the waved hand — he's not sure if he trusts his ears at the moment, but the promise of healing tempts him to act regardless.
Thus, he joins the bustle of the jackal, eyes scanning the vast array of vials. Does he know what he seeks? No, not particularly — he's never been fond of studying herbs. Does he turn back toward Leo in a silent plea for help, completely setting aside the shaky breathing and unsteadiness he had just witnessed moments ago? Yes, perhaps, because his excitement for a cure just barely triumphs his worries for all else.
"Bitter... weed? Dark holly crest?" The labels are so worn that he can barely read them — and some of the vials aren't even labeled, it seems. He's sheepish as he stands back up. "I, uh..."
I do not know what I'm looking for.
@princepsumbra
He feels Bruno's eyes heavy upon him. A conversation for another time, when this entire ordeal is nothing more than a memory they can look back upon.
Coins clink loudly in the otherwise quiet space. Leo watches the jackal's quick movements, how the money disappears underneath the pouch. Odd, what his mind will focus on when he's fighting off his body's instincts.
With some effort, he breathes in again, hating the faint wheeze in the back of his throat. The following frown is not solely for the jackal's comment. Leo doesn't feel any different; if anything, he's more irritated now then when he first entered this hovel.
Leo catches Bruno's gaze. The prince gives a small shake of his head in answer to the silent question.
Clairvoyance. Leo barely holds back a scoff. Playing along will get them out of here faster; so he follows Bruno towards the shelfs, squinting at the unlabeled vials.
"I was taught never to grab items off another's potion shelf," he says evenly, tracing a gloved finger along one of the glass vials. The liquid inside trembles. "As names and organization systems vary from person to person. After all, I'd hate to concoct something detrimental for my allies."
@codename-blade @stormofembla
The jackal waves their hand again until, slowly, they realize that the vials haven't been procured and deposited where they had expected. They raise their head out of the palm of their other hand and look at the two of you.
"Full of surprises, are you? Are you daft, or do you not trust your li'l ol' shopkeep?" The tone of their voice remains upbeat, almost chirpy, so much so that it's almost hard to believe that they're trying to insult you. Maybe they aren't, and this is simply how they talk.
Suddenly they lower their voice conspiratorially, and cover the side of their mouth with one hand, as if to gossip.
"Or maybe you are practiced potion crafters after all. My special soup bouillon doesn't interest you, eh? Khee hee hee."
Straightening up, they fold their arms over their chest and raise their chin.
"Well then, tell me what ailment you do wish to heal, and Orun will fix it right up."
A sniff, then another, chin raising for a better angle.
"Mmm..." They level their sights on Bruno. "My clairvoyance tells me that it's that accursed skin condition you've picked up. Not even a mangy old dog would envy you."
@stormofembla @princepsumbra
Gods above, that laugh is grating. Leo waits for the jackal--Orun--to finish speaking before deigning to reply.
"What you call daft is merely a form of respect," Leo replies as diplomatically as he can. His chest still feels tight. "We've more in our party who suffer from that same skin condition. Or do you only heal one person at a time?"
He eyes the vials again; with time, he's sure he could identify most of what's here, but book knowledge does not always equal practical knowledge. The actual creation of potions is something he's only dabbled in--his comment about accidentally creating a poison was not just a carefully aimed jab.
One shoulder lifts in a shrug. "What would you do, in my position? Give your trust over blindly? It would be silly to not ask a question or two first. Not to mention we did pay you in good faith."
If none of his more human arguments can sway Orun, perhaps the world's universal language will.
The effect is somewhat lessened as the cough Leo has valiantly kept at bay finally breaks free. Elbow instinctively rising to cover his mouth, normally proud shoulders curl inward, as he can hide away from those watching him.
Ḽ̷̃e̴͖̋t̷̖͂'̶͈̄ŝ̴̪ ̶̣̽g̶̟̈ȏ̵̖ ̷̖̉t̷͎̓ó̷͖ ̸̡͐t̸̠̏h̷̛͙ë̶̼́ ̴̛̲Ṁ̵͜ą̸̓ḷ̵̆l̵̼͐!
AMBlade2025 - Searching for a cure, Week 3
Sharply, the jackal raises their head from their count and turns to you as tokens bounce onto the table in the middle of the cramped shop. The mask itself seems to be carved into a perpetual coy grin, and so from the right angle, it almost appears to be laughing at you.
"My, what... funny little humans you are." And one, two, three-- nine tokens are snapped up one after the other and deposited into the palm of the jackal's other hand, its snickering an airy sound over the clink of metal.
"I healed your fellow, of course, just as you asked! Deep breathing does wonders for the nervous system, and that one seems so high-strung he might just fall over dead."
With a flourish, they slip the coins into some unseen pouch beneath their poncho and lean forward to clasp the edges of the table with both hands. The black-painted wooden snout swings from one of you to the other. Then it presses one of its hands to its forehead and begins to hum.
"Hmmmmmm.... I sense.... with my clairvoyance... that you have come seeking a rarer, mystical cure. One spoonful of reaper bitterweed... hurry, hurry," they wave their other hand at Bruno to collect it from the wall of vials, "and... two spoons of dark hollycress... ahhhh... dash of goblin ambrosia..."
@stormofembla @princepsumbra
Bruno opens his mouth at healed your fellow, before closing it rapidly. Instead, he turns to glance at Leo, raised eyebrow hidden under the mask. Perhaps recognizing that his unspoken question cannot be gleaned through the covers on their faces, he tilts his head to try and convey his concern: is what they say true?
It isn't long before they have his attention once again, however. At the mention of the cure, Bruno's head snaps back toward the jackal; he stands, frozen, even at the waved hand — he's not sure if he trusts his ears at the moment, but the promise of healing tempts him to act regardless.
Thus, he joins the bustle of the jackal, eyes scanning the vast array of vials. Does he know what he seeks? No, not particularly — he's never been fond of studying herbs. Does he turn back toward Leo in a silent plea for help, completely setting aside the shaky breathing and unsteadiness he had just witnessed moments ago? Yes, perhaps, because his excitement for a cure just barely triumphs his worries for all else.
"Bitter... weed? Dark holly crest?" The labels are so worn that he can barely read them — and some of the vials aren't even labeled, it seems. He's sheepish as he stands back up. "I, uh..."
I do not know what I'm looking for.
@princepsumbra
He feels Bruno's eyes heavy upon him. A conversation for another time, when this entire ordeal is nothing more than a memory they can look back upon.
Coins clink loudly in the otherwise quiet space. Leo watches the jackal's quick movements, how the money disappears underneath the pouch. Odd, what his mind will focus on when he's fighting off his body's instincts.
With some effort, he breathes in again, hating the faint wheeze in the back of his throat. The following frown is not solely for the jackal's comment. Leo doesn't feel any different; if anything, he's more irritated now then when he first entered this hovel.
Leo catches Bruno's gaze. The prince gives a small shake of his head in answer to the silent question.
Clairvoyance. Leo barely holds back a scoff. Playing along will get them out of here faster; so he follows Bruno towards the shelfs, squinting at the unlabeled vials.
"I was taught never to grab items off another's potion shelf," he says evenly, tracing a gloved finger along one of the glass vials. The liquid inside trembles. "As names and organization systems vary from person to person. After all, I'd hate to concoct something detrimental for my allies."
@codename-blade @stormofembla
When Leo turns the corner, he's greeted by the sound of a bang — and Bruno stands at the end of it all, a fist pressed up against the metal door. There's an itch of pain that travels its way up his arm, all from the sheer force he puts into the slam; but he only smiles, any sign of discomfort invisible through his stare.
"Is this what you heard when she fell?" He slides his hand down back to his side, flesh against steel. The drag leaves his mark of rotting fluid on its pristine surface, barely noticeable through the weakening trace of light. "What a sound to be greeted by, one of fatal failure. How did it feel, to experience her body shatter?"
Chuckling. Crunching as he twists and pops every knuckle in his hands — a mockery of recollection. Even from the shadow, his eyes glow visibly with inhumanity, as his silhouette stays planted on cold tile.
"Does your own helplessness haunt you, as it did myself? Let me give you a chance to redeem yourself, Leo." He returns his arms to his back, intertwining his peeling hands; he stands a little taller, lifting his chin and further revealing the necrosis along his windpipe.
"I'll tell you what truths I've seen up there — she would have loved to see what awaited us at the top. Surely, you'd be kind enough to grant her the peace of truth after you failed her." A step, right to where he can no longer bear the fluorescence. He beckons to the dark with a tilt of his head, silver hair falling over his face, and drops his voice to a playful whisper, decorated with underlying malice.
"Come over, won't you?" Soft giggling. "We cannot have everyone hearing the truth without them putting effort into finding it, as you and I did relentlessly."
He flinches.
Unflappable and in control he may seem, even he has limits. The constant migraine is more than enough to wear even the most stalwart down; add the horror of the elevators alongside everything else and it doesn't take a genius to deduce why his nerves are frayed.
Leo swallows his discomfort, smoothing his expression into something impassive. His hands flex behind his back. A Shame--at least, he presumes it a Shame--wearing a twisted, decaying version of Bruno's face lies in wait.
(An unmoving body. Unending sameness. Guilt a weight upon his chest.)
In his peripheral, the residue left behind on the wall glints. Nausea rises in his throat. Leo will never forget that sound for as long as he lives. Nor will he ever forgive himself for his inability to help when desperately needed.
He can endure mockery. His weaknesses have been cruelly thrown back in his face since he was small; Bruno's questions are not dignified with a response.
But the nausea grows worse with every sick pop, twisting in his stomach until he has to grit his teeth against the feeling.
(Redemption is not meant for people like him, no matter how he tries.)
Inhuman light glitters in Bruno's eyes. It's just enough to remind Leo this is nothing more than a physical manifestation of Shame, of his deepest failures coming to life.
Bruno moves. Leo raises his hands on instinct, fingers splayed as if seconds away from casting, consequences be damned. True; he never did discover what happened atop the elevator shaft. Did something--perhaps this version of Bruno?--push first Emma, then the masked Bruno, to hide whatever lay beyond the wires and metal?
"We cannot have truth in the shadows," Leo replies, voice hoarse. "The light is far more apt for finding peace. I see no one else here; you cornered me well."
A pause. Admitting to his own Shame might backfire, and yet...when the stakes are this high, he's willing to risk it. "As you've pointed out, I did not put any effort into finding the truth. Not like you and Emma."
His voice wavers on her name.
