i'll stay with you. i can, right?

How can I ever help you if you don't give me a chance to be strong? ❤︎ closed rp blog Blue Lions student at toa self • mun • pals • tags • list

[princessmacedon]

All the stars are a-bloom with flowers . . .

LINKS: self • stat • bond • uniform • mun + guidelines • thread tracker

PORTRAYAL NOTES

Maria is a from a couple years after FE12. At the time of her arrival at Garreg Mach, she was 15, and some years have passed since.

Generally speaking, she will recognize muses from FE11, but not those from FE12 (though she may have heard of them from closely affiliated allies).

Being someone whose reply times fluctuate, I don't mind waiting on replies and will not consider a thread dropped unless you tell me! However, if a year or more passes, I'll probably check in with you.

You can find my thread tracker for all muses here!

"And at night you will look up at the stars. Where I live everything is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found. It is better, like that. My star will just be one of the stars, for you. And so you will love to watch all the stars in the heavens . . . they will all be your friends. And, besides, I am going to make you a present . . ."

He laughed again.

"Ah, little prince, dear little prince! I love to hear that laughter!"

( The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry )

[princessmacedon]

but the heart withdraws

mission board: epidemic -- +1 faith (village in conand)

[ulircursed]

“Their temple,” Andrei repeats, a vague unease settling over his expression at this revelation.

The villagers had not spoken of the existence of a temple nearby when questioned. His mind turns to another village, far across the continent, where sturdy walls and stone towers had been revealed to be nothing but piled sticks and rubble, empty ruins brought to an illusion of normalcy only by their own minds.

“It is a trap,” he concludes grimly, “The villagers have not reported their presence nearly long enough for them to have a temple erected, no matter how primitive. But it is also the likely place where the villagers had been taken.”

Rows upon rows of them, perhaps, lying just as still as those who had entered the dreams had been, their minds trapped within a landscape as fleeting as foam. The sense of unease only grows, and Andrei touches his hand to the hilt of the dagger once more, a subconscious gesture of reassurance, before shaking his head.

“It is our only course of action if we wish to accomplish the mission,” he says, before motioning her forward. If they are to take the role of the devoted earnestly seeking answers, Maria could likely better play the part.

He would need to keep an eye on potential dangers anyhow, as the guard.

[princessmacedon]

"I wondered if maybe they used a bigger word than it actually is," Maria offers, more for the sake of the thought itself than any real belief that it changes things. After all, 'our temple' probably sounded more enticing to the lost and world-weary than 'our cabin in the woods'. And, well, less threatening, too. "But... yeah." A sorrowful, if slight twist of her brow. "I think so too."

It isn't that she's eager to wander right into a likely trap, but when she thinks of all the people lured away from their homes, preyed upon for their trust and hope, she feels restless; when she thinks of those they can yet save, she finds that the next step forward comes easily. The breath she draws then, she draws deeply; it fills her lungs and lifts her shoulders, and Maria stands tall again (relatively, of course).

"Then let's go before he gets suspicious," she suggests, halfway through a turn even as she nods. "I'll try to see if he'll talk about it more!"

Rounding the corner again, she makes her steps larger, waving with the whole of an arm. The so-called priest spots them nigh immediately, his body pivoting with an unnerving stillness, as if trying too hard to portray an image of ease.

"There you are, my child," he greets her, smoothly cutting off whatever salutations she'd begun herself. "Ah, and your friend as well. I am gladdened to see that you found him. Are the both of you ready?"

"Mhm, ready!" It's easier to smile when she directs it toward Andrei, effecting a bit of a cleric's practiced calm, silently offering, or implying, a reason why he might be quieter. Turning back to the priest, she continues: "Do you know how far it is, Mister? It's probably time to start getting ready for dinner soon...I haven't made you late for anything, have I?"

"Hm?" There's a pause just a bit too long, a thought slightly too composed. "Oh, no. Not at all. My brothers and sisters have matters well in hand. It is not so far a walk, besides."

"Thank goodness!" Bringing the side of her hand to her brows, she pops up onto her tiptoes for a number of steps, though the trees only grow denser ahead. "Oh, but I can help if they're still busy when we get there! I want to!"

The priest smiles, perfectly, utterly content.

"How good of you."

[seawardoath]

The Meaning of Home

Expedition Holy War: Week 3 - Return to Iz | Ronan, Leif, & Maria

[seawardoath]

While Leif and Maria spread out to explore on their own, Ronan backtracks to the more level part of the shore to unload his bag. He's brought a few nets and small buckets with him, along with his tackle box that he'd managed to slip out of his bedroom at home without his mother stopping him with her litany of questions and stories. Every now and then, he glances up to see what might have caught his guests' attention, noting the way Leif seems to hang back far more than Maria does who, first time or not, seems fearless as she totters and spins in a sort of songless dance between the pools. Thinking that no one is paying too much attention to him, Ronan can't help but smile.

"Oh, the smaller fish are pretty boney. Some of them are poisonous, too." By the time either Leif or Maria look back at him, his smile has been replaced with a grimace over a private memory. He'd found out just how bad some of the tidepool creatures were from experience. But that meant that he had a pretty good idea of which ones to avoid if they wanted to make a lunch out of what they could get their hands on.

Scooping up the buckets and nets, and leaving his back by the cliffs, Ronan half-sprints back to catch up with Leif and Maria, handing them each a bucket and a net as he passes.

"Crabs and clams are usually good though. Do you know what those are?" he asks Maria, then glances into the nearest tidepool. "Oh! Here's one. Look." Taking her wrist, he drops down into a crouch to point to a bivalve shell nestled among the rocks at the bottom, nearly camouflaged. It wasn't very big, but he reaches in to pull it free with his fingers, then sets it on his palm to show her and Leif.

"Just toss these into some boiling water and the shells will pop right open. We'll need a few more for it to be worthwhile though." Kneeling, he scoops water into a bucket and drops the clam in. "If we don't manage to find anything around here though, I've stashed one of my fishing rods nearby. We can take turns casting."

Next: @diadic @princessmacedon

[diadic]

    Leif watches Maria's greeting, eyes tracking the direction of her little wave (that's what that wiggling is, right?) to find who their extra guest is. He expects a little crab or other, but to his eyes, there is nothing immediately sticking out from the seawater that makes it obvious just what it is the princess greets.

Strange though the moment might be from his perspective, it does make the boy look upon the sand and the sea for any detail he can, chasing nothing more than myths unknowingly in the act of looking for curiosities. Compared to deeper seas, shallow waters here hold plenty for the eyes— a kaleidoscope of life and colors all pooled into the intertidal shore. The rocky ground beneath has each and every shape clearer to see, so close to the surface, and the variety of aquatic life collected here in one spot feels like a miracle. Big or small, a myriad sits not unlike the monastery, Leif thinks, or his own army from years prior.

Leif doesn't find Maria's 'Miss Lady,' but he instead finds a crowd he can touch with just his fingers so long as he looks and reaches out.

Leif's attention is grabbed at the sound of buckets jostling with Ronan's speedy steps, head tilting back up to see their trio returned to be closer knit.

“Who doesn't know what a crab or clam is??” Leif pipes up, brow raised as he takes the proffered bucket and net. “Are there really places that don't have them?”

For as many countries as Leif has been to, he supposes, in hindsight, he didn't take the time to really notice what was or wasn't there, taking these things as a given. The raised brow scrunches along with his other, now in sync, as he mulls over this before he drops to crouch as well. He peeks into Ronan's bucket to get a second look at the clam he'd shown them just before, committing it to memory before he faces the rocks again.

“Mussels are the best,” he goes on to say, looking anew at the shallow waters. “But I never got any before the sea stars took them from me first... Aha!”

His hand shoots out, finding another clam, beaming as his eyes sparkle in the victory, no matter how small the prize in his hand.

NEXT: @princessmacedon !!

[princessmacedon]

"I do, but only sorta!" The answer itself is merry, a glance squeaked over her shoulder at Leif in his incredulity, and a quiet laugh just as quickly tucked into it, light and unbothered. A part of her mind still lingers with the poisonous fish (it's somehow odd, despite making sense), her chin scooted bit by bit into her palm over the course of the thought, but it is an easy thing to pull her away from it and back to the fun at hand.

"I think I must've seen some before," Maria supposes through a grin, head and hand both bobbing slightly as she speaks, "But it's been a really long time! You don't really see them in the mountainy parts of Macedon, anyway. But you know, I bet maybe they had some in Khadein!" The last bit she adds with what can only be called a squeench of her eyes, the tip of her tongue held playfully between her teeth.

"That's a desert city in Archanea," she adds a beat later in explanation. "I bet if there are sand crabs, they have sand crabs there. It just seems possible, you know?" (The way her grin widens a touch there suggests that she knows they don't know.)

Then her chin stretches, neck craning even as she leans in, letting her fingers touch the water. It looks almost like a jewelry box, the earthy tones not so unlike those of various metals -- a bit prettier though, she thinks, in its brightness. And where she marvels at its sum, Ronan's eyes are quick to see the individual pieces and pluck something from within. It's the gift of hunter's eyes, maybe, or his own cleverness... probably both.

"Wow," she breathes, a fingertip hesitantly dropping against the shell of it, the touch featherlight. Eyes red like roses among the sea and earthy stone widen just a bit, trailing over each line with an ineffable curiosity only too eager to bounce over to the mussel in Leif's hand, next. "Look at all the rings...!"

There's a very clear huff of determination when she looks back again, her head and shoulders bouncing once with the expelled breath. She may not have the sense of a hunter, but there's a keenness to a cleric's eyes as well. A beat passes, and then -- her hand dips, gently, into the water.

"Like this?" she asks, bright-eyed as she carefully presents them a shelled creature of her own.

[princessmacedon]

sing the tune without the words / and never stop at all

->ANY+1

[aubins]

“that’s not...” it can’t possibly be enough to know about someone. but it is twice now that what has been asked of yuri is their happiness. it eats at them more than any words could possibly say, that impossibly big word. maria is right: they think of everything they don’t do—but they think of all that they have done, too. anything there is to, they think and overthink again and again.

their gaze meets maria’s, steady and unflinching. “my name isn’t yuri,” is what they say, because it is the only way they know to frame it. to contrast the smile they are met with, their next words are matter of fact and impersonal: “nobody knows my real name aside from the woman who gave it to me. and when she dies, no one else in the world will know it aside from me.”

brows quietly knitting together, they simply shake their head. “...isn’t warmth wasted on someone that cold?”

she says it with such confidence: he’ll find me when he needs to, and maybe even when he doesn’t. one day, when such a day finally comes, when yuri no longer needs to find her at all... what then? they wish they could share even a fraction of her confidence, but frankly they don’t even believe in themself that much.

maria is probably owed a goodbye. if she would receive one is an entirely different matter.

(but, if he is being truthful, when has he ever really needed to find maria at all? any obligation is constructed by jumping what anyone else might think of as hoops: a birthday gift given is one he naturally owes her back. if she finds him at this year’s ethereal ball then of course he ought to find her first during the next. they’re debts to be repaid, that’s all.)

“there are other important things to know about strange boys, you know.” yuri means to laugh; instead, it devolves into a coughing fit into their fist. a tired rasp once it ends, “he’s done plenty of cruel things. he’s hurt a lot of people—and he’ll hurt them again if given a second chance at it. he’ll even hurt you too if he has to. that strange boy you call your friend hasn’t been a good person in a very long time.”

[princessmacedon]

They're coughing again, she thinks, fingertips brushing the outside of her pockets for the shape of a handkerchief. It sounds like it hurts.

It does, doesn't it? --sound like it hurts, that is. Maria is quiet as they smile the sort of smile that makes one sad, equally as steady, equally as unflinching, if in an entirely different manner. The boy who calls himself Yuri Leclerc reasons out the worst of himself, and though her heartbeat objects to them with each attentive thump, what she does instead is listen, and try her best to hear.

The handkerchief, when she fishes it out, is soft between her fingers.

"I don't think so," she answers, after a beat. Another passes, and though her gaze may waver, pulled at times by thought, it always returns to them.

"--do you wish someone did?" Rather than elaboration, a new question arrives with a slight cant of the head. Her lower lip pushes a bit against the upper, warbling the line of them with words still forming. "It sounds... lonely, to me." A pause, waiting to be filled with their reaction. "Or... you sound lonely to me. Wherever you are... you sound like it's cold." The corners of her mouth press, gingerly, against those of her eyes.

"So I'm glad. If warmth finds cold people, then I'm glad." The words are tricky on her tongue, copper and bleeding, a sharp scent without form. "...I think I would be a lot more sad if it was cold forever."

That is, of course, not to discount what they say to her. They say they've done plenty of cruel things, and she believes them; they say they've hurt a lot of people, that they'd hurt them again if given a second chance, and she believes that, too. Then he says that he would hurt her too, if he has to, and she thinks--

--that she would forgive them anyway, even if that might not be what they need to hear right now. They're warning her after all, and she listens; it's just that sometimes she chooses to be a fool anyway, because the world is better with them. (With fools? With the boy who calls himself Yuri Leclerc? Well, yes.)

If she moves now, it is not away from him, but toward, a hand wordlessly offering the handkerchief to him. "Whatever made you leave your name behind, whatever made you cold, you're here right now. I don't know whether I should be happy about it... so I'll decide if you ever tell me, okay? -- 'if you're happy here.'" A crease forms at the corners of her eyes, soft lines that aren't playful, not really, but offer a beat to breathe.

"But I'm happy that I met you. Even if you've done cruel things, you haven't forgotten how to be kind." A brief smile. "Even if it's cheeky sometimes. And even though you're cold, you're still a part of my warmth... probably so many more of them, too." Maybe he even wants to be good, by his own definition; she doesn't ponder it aloud. For one beat, and then a few more, Maria lapses into silence, searching for the feeling of what she's looking for.

"...Isn't it okay to just be a person?"

[princessmacedon]

From out a hundred trees -

[oflowersandlight]

She supposes it would be lonely for most, wouldn’t it? Poe tries to wonder if, in the beginning, she had missed those back at home—had there been a part of her that missed her mother, her father, the maids and staff back at home? Back when this had all began, and she had gone from nobility to nomad?

Maybe she hadn’t. She doesn’t feel any different now than she had before, and if there had been a loneliness that she had gotten over, she reasons she would remember getting over it.

And that must mean it had never been there to begin with.

So, she can’t say that she is unhappy with her arrangement. Candy taken, Poe withdraws her hand. “The more places I go, the more help I can be,” The priestess explains with a perfect sense of ease. “Usually, I am uprooted every year or so to head wherever my travels take me next. Shorter at times, longer at times. Likely, I will be here about as long.”

If she is here longer than that, she is not sure whether or not that would be fortunate or not. On the one hand, that would imply that there is an awful lot of work to do, here, that Fódlan would require her guidance for so long. On the other,

she supposes it wouldn’t be so bad to settle down for a little while. There are plenty of people she would find great fun in getting to know better.

Stranger always, though, she knows without a doubt it will not be forever. For as long as she is alive, there will be somewhere else to go. Maria brings up an interesting prospect indeed. “Just maybe, Archanea will be where I go next.”

[princessmacedon]

Help? There's a clear sparkle of interest there, a straightening of the spine and a metaphorical perk of the ears. She supposes it would make sense that a person seemingly aligned with the church in some way would have an interest in helping others, but then, this is who she has ever been; that she does not often consider motivations in this manner is more a common headache to elder siblings than a surprise.

"What sort of help?" The echo of her smile lingers in the slight curve of her lips, upward-turned as if to hold all the burgeoning grand hopes and little dreams within her eyes. "That's part of why I came to Fódlan, too! I wanted to learn about lots of things and places, so that when I go back home, I'll know better how to help everyone!"

It would be nice if Poe's travels took her to Archanea one day, too -- if after both their times in Fódlan came to an end, there would be another meeting, and perhaps another after that. The thought goes unremarked upon, but still it bares pearly whites in a cheerful grin.

"Hee hee... then maybe if you go to Archanea, I'll be able to show you around one day!" The little princess supposes this lightly, brushing past the logistics and potential promises of it -- oh, it would be a pleasure, to be sure, but there is no need to rush to plan or answer! -- and instead placing her chin in the crook of her thumb and index finger.

"Although... hmm... maybe it'd be more like an adventure together, depending on when. I haven't actually seen a whole lot yet!" Even of her Macedon, she knows precious little, and most of the places she had visited on the main continent were during wartime. "But I'd like to," she adds a bit more softly. "There's so much of it to love."

Quite suddenly, Maria turns her head at a playful angle and flashes a cheerful wink.

"If I get there first, I'll make sure to get familiar ahead of time, okay?"

And then she laughs, again, a hand drawn to her lips and sound spilled over her knuckles.

[reverenceofmacedon]

⊱ ❂ 『 𝕿𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐎𝐫𝐛 』

A strange orb has been seen around the monastery, said to be from the world of Zenith. Rumors say that it can show another facet of yourself in another outfit, from another timeline, or even another world. Of course, not every rumor is to be believed, but you suddenly find the possibility very real when you happen across this orb for yourself— and find yourself living that very facet out. [Grants Any Skill +1]

&MARIA

[reverenceofmacedon]

It is the stroll that follows vigor , relentless pursuit , and the heft of the axe sits phantom-like in the calluses of an iron hand — — it was only ever meant to be a stroll that puts breeze to perspire , respite to ache.

Not . . . this — — this thing that peels his lip in disgust , staunch and steadfast like the tale-told strongholds of iron , intercepting his departure from the Knight’s Hall.

It glows and seethes , Michalis might think , with much fervor and twice-over the vindication , and it does not leave. It wears an image of fuchsia and springtime celebration and he avows never to witness such horror again — — those colors , that infantile mantle , and . . . ears ?

“ By that damnable scaled devil , move out of my way ! ” Demands Macedon’s eldest , and digits flex , knuckles pulse pale , white , beneath gloves.

And then she is there , her attire twirling and her enthuse abounding ( and this is good , a benevolent difference to the hells her youth toiled through in damnable Archanea , but it is reckless ) and his great hand casts out to give her caution.

“ Maria ! “ He declares. “ Not a hand goes on it ! Wait there. ”

And so if it would not permit him a free path to tread , it is as always , and prior King Macedon sunders out from the obstacle his own path by laying his hand upon that orb and sending it off — — only , it thieves the garb of his preference ( that black mantle , the lilac cravat , his greaves ) and gives them for fuchsia and springtime embellishments and not at all the colors Michalis would choose without coercion.

“ What the hell ? — Maria , do not touch it. ”

@princessmacedon

[princessmacedon]

She'd heard tell of the newest not-major-but-slightly-more-than-minor issue to strike the academy, beset as it has ever been by problems aplenty. The need to catch the thing vaguely called 'the orb' seemed equal to the difficulty of actually doing so, and so when it had appeared before her without any fanfare, all Maria had managed to do at first was blink.

It seems to have already exerted its mysterious powers upon her brother, whom she had been on the way to see, but... well, aside from the way it warps his clothes, he seems to her to be rather normal. Incensed by his new garb, yes -- she thinks it actually looks quite nice on him, and that the big ears on the tiny cap are honestly quite charming, but she also knows him well enough to know how severely he would detest them -- but all the same, still headstrong with a foul-tempered mouth, and still Michalis after all.

And Maria intends to obey his command -- honestly, she does! But the orb flies into her, bowling her over and disappearing just as quick, not that she would be able to tell. Falling backward, her vision swims, a hand weakly grasping at her brother's cloak only for it to slip between his fingers (that same dream again?). Her head is heavy, her eyes unfocused, and-- --ah, she knows this feeling...

"...Brother?" She as much sighs the word as she says it, eyes cracked open with no more effort than is necessary. Darkness swims at the edges of her vision -- or rather shadow, murky, deep, and endless... how long has she waded through this? At the end of all of it (for how long? Each time, it becomes less than it was), there is always that small kernel of hope: "...Michalis?"

But he wears an ensemble he would abhor, decked in colors bright and soft, flowers scattered across one shoulder and a rabbit's ears upon his head. It is a vision of what she would weave for him, if he would let her with the best and sweetest of her pleading; it is a match, not just to one but to two others, a long-held wish of a family attending a celebration together, in a world more silly than it is scary; it is an impossibility. So it is that this long dream is like all the others, a small hope dashed against its rocky, unending shore.

"...No," she murmurs listlessly to herself, looking away from the illusion. "My brother would never wear something like that. Not even to a festival..." Though, how could she be so certain? It wasn't as if she had ever been to one.

A hand pushes against the stone, a motion as simple as it is wrong. There is no extra flourish, no delicate, unnecessary expense of energy to float, or bounce, or laugh; she simply rises without a glance spared for the world around her, eyes once rosy-hued now bereft of life, their color at once dull and sickly sharp.

"We could never be so happy."

[princessmacedon]

each paved with the moon and these

mission board: herald (troublemakers & handholding)

[stealstaff]

Please, please, please, please let it be a cute boy Tina silently prays to Bragi as she awaits her punishment for being a so called unscrupulous troublemaker. Which is totally unfair! And totally ridiculous! She didn't do anything! So maybe she skipped class a few times and maybe she's been late to class even more often than she's skipped. And maybe, maaaaaaybe, her tone could have been misinterpreted for being disrespectful or whatever. But like! That's not even that bad! There are way worse things she could have done! She thought about trying to get her hands on the answer key before a test a few times. But she didn't! The professors didn't like hearing that she thought about it though but that's a them problem. They should've praised her for doing the responsible thing!

Ug!

And double ug when it is not a cute boy who steps forward to join hands with her. Tina rolls her eyes. This whole thing is stupid. She's already been labeled as a troublemaker and the cleric already looks at her like the nuns who would scold her back home. She might as well let her frustrations show in her eyes.

At least this girl she's forced to be paired with seems about her age. Maybe she'll even be kind of cool. Tina gets along fine with Linoan, after all, and she's certainly no troublemaker.

"Tina," she huffs. Not thinking about how their hands are stuck together, she starts to fold her arms across her chest, bringing poor Maria's hand with her. It just makes her scowl even more when she has to put her arms back down. This is not going to be fun at all. "They need to stop doing too much. I didn't even do anything-uh!"

[princessmacedon]

Maria, for her part, simply lets her hand be taken wherever her new companion -- Tina, she introduces herself as, and there's something colorful about the way she moves and is; not like the wry drawl of a prim teacher, but the great burst of wonder and being on canvases --does or doesn't intend to pull her. It's hard enough as is to have such a thing demanded of you for a week, and Maria at least had the benefit of volunteering.

Holding the tip of her chin between the thumb and index finger of her free hand, she hums a bit, wondering how she might communicate that she at least intends to make the next few days as painless as reasonably possible.

"At least we have today off," she supposes first, lightly. "And we can pick the classes we like better between our schedules!" A mercy that seems much more reasonable when compared to what is being demanded of them, though she supposes none of it must sound very fun at all right now.

So she pivots again, her head canted sideways, perched now on a fingertip, a bit of mischief brewing in her voice.

"If you're alright with it, I think we should definitely start with some sweets!" She giggles her suggestion amiably, then ventures with a lopsided smile: "And then, is it okay if I ask-- ahem! Hee hee..." Clearing her throat, she effects what gruffness she can, which is admittedly hardly any at all, and even less so when threaded with a playful lilt: "What are you in for?"

[princessmacedon]

birds chasing cats

[aubins]

they linger a few steps away, arms crossed as they watch the cat carefully. if it bolts, they might try to scoop it up with some wind anyway, but it only settles alongside the slump of their shoulders as their gaze turns back to maria. “hm? sure.”

magic is just the tool; yuri likes to think they are what make it strong or convincing. a light breeze here to get someone to turn their head. a stronger gust billowing in your face to get you to pinch your eyes shut. “i learned the basics. always useful to have a pinch.” even if the pinch is usually just running away from trouble.

swish. swish. swish. back and forth a tail swings, timed like the beat of a metronome. their runaway’s gaze flick back and forth between he and maria, as though unsure which to keep an eye on. “and its name is marsh. short for marshmallow,” they offer belatedly. its head snaps up at the sound of their name, tilting cautiously.

“miaow?” yuri echoes, and at this it turns its nose up at them, then returns its gaze to maria. they make a face at it as it does. maybe they’ve said something rude. “and you? speak fluent cat, do you?”

[princessmacedon]

It does make a certain sort of sense, that Yuri would pick up a little bit of this and that. It suits them the way flour sticks endearingly to a baker's cheek, or calluses to a soldier's palm.

"Do you know many spells?" She asks the question idly, voice still combed kittycat-soft. Not having expected a conversation of two to become a conversation of three, the little cleric giggles softly when he joins them, a knuckle pressed upward into the slight slope of her lower lip.

"I know a bit of wind and fire, but ice and thunder are a bit harder for me." If the laughter hadn't caught Marshmallow's attention, the motion surely does, its eyes flicking back toward Maria with the alertness of a tiny predator. A smile pushes up the corners of her mouth, fingers drumming softly, sporadically, and then slowing as it hunkers closer. There is a rapt focus, and somehow -- she knows it, wordlessly and certainly -- a sort of growing ease as it shifts from paw to paw. Something nearly... playful. Nearly, but not quite.

"I can't call myself fluent," Maria objects good-naturedly; the resultant puff of laughter wards the cat away at first, yet when she stays where she is, still save for the same motion of her fingers, Marshmallow ventures a half-step closer (or a full step, if one wishes to be technical). "But I've picked up a few phrases. Right? Myarsh?" Another giggle, and this time Marshmallow only watches, no longer driven away.

"Meeeeeeeee-iu?" Her voice flicks upward at the end, a one-two, rap-tap of digits against the roof beckoning it closer. A tiny nose sniffs at her nail when it stills, and then-- --somewhat tentatively, it rubs a tiny corner of its face against her hand.

"Mhm," the little cleric agrees, amiable as it opts to continue sniffing instead. "Miu? Miu?" There she lays, only nearly perfectly still as Marshmallow ventures closer, slinking past her hands and then her shoulders inquisitively. Then--

"Just like that," she giggles, as Marshmallow steps somewhere between the small of her back and the bottoms of her shoulders and settles in quite comfortably.

[knighteclipsed]

what my cover shows

One day, you find yourself waking up thoroughly sore, scraping yourself off the floor of a Monastery classroom. As you strain to remember how you wound up there, you catch sight of your hand – except it’s not yours. Nor are the clothes you now wear, or the body beneath them. Your actual self is standing opposite you, staring back in shock and… covered in dust? Before things spiral further, the professor attempts to quell the growing chorus of unrest with an explanation, which also serves to jog your memory. This was supposed to be a seminar showcasing the magical properties of a magic tool from Tellius known as Warp Powder. Unfortunately, its volatile nature lends itself to many potential side-effects if mishandled… one of which is ripping people’s souls out and depositing them into the nearest acceptable vessel. The unbothered professor assures everyone that this “minor inconvenience” will wear off on its own eventually, and that the Monastery will still be expecting the completion of your usual assignments and duties in the meantime. [Grants Any Weapon +1]

[knighteclipsed]

Does he feel that? (He senses Maria’s meaning and the implications that sit behind it, but he has long since felt a void of emotion, only tasting that which was strong enough.) Mania. Terror. Rage.

Hm. Perhaps not that second one (not in the longest time), but nevertheless, there is but a ghost of a feeling, however fleeting, beneath the sparks of the spell he had cast, and Valter assumes she means that. (That which he finds himself unable to name, and furthermore, unable to shape.)

He hums assent, a dry, one note thing, more to fill the space than convey any meaning, but all the same, Maria possesses the confidence to follow through with her initial deduction; and it is then, with the priestess’s second spell, that something exists in nothingness.

(…It’s a bit painful, he thinks. Death and undeath, all upon the heartless, unfeeling sands of a foreign capital; reinstatement and exile, both issued from the same grand, hallowed halls; place and placelessness, and belonging without belonging; and everything that made the void to begin with starts to fill up that space—he was never hollow, there just wasn’t any room left.) It feels like tearing something bigger than himself out of himself, and however her face contorts in response, Valter wishes to swallow that feeling; to shove it into whatever cracks remained; to make a wholeness out of that pain.

And Valter opens his eyes.

And then he notes his hands and the way they are his; and the way his hair hangs over his shoulders, spilling past to its well-known lengths; how he must kneel to meet Maria’s height, and how she is no longer his reflection. He recognizes the rumbling his lungs as the same discordant tone he’d always laughed in; and the weight he carries feels appropriate for his shoulders; and his hand, still holding Maria’s, is doing so in a death-grip; and his hand, again his own, loosens; and his hand, at last, falls away.

“ … ”

He was, without a doubt, himself.

(It feels odd, being in his own body after having spent the whole day outside of it; but also, like traveling afar, and seeing what the world had to offer; and basking in all of its sights and sounds; and catching a glimpse of a life that will never be yours; and then mending homesickness with a single night in one’s own bed.)

He laughs. One note; then two, echoing in his—his!—ribcage, as his smile takes hold: that same, crooked old thing he’d always practiced. It’s good to be back, he thinks to himself, and then he looks at Maria and says, “ Well done. ”

(And that was his voice!) It rumbles to punctuate a phrase, mania its expression: “ I’ll admit I wasn’t entirely confident beforehand, but it was a worthwhile investigation regardless—and, evidently, the correct thread to follow. ” (Another elation, smile wide:) “ Well done! ”

“ That was smart, ” he affirms, eyes narrowing with a fond edge. “ Well done. ” Well done, Maria.

[princessmacedon]

It feels odd, being in her own body after having spent the whole day outside of it. For such a short spell she had known the simple act of being in a different way: straight hair, short and silky, traded for long, lazily tumbling waves, vivacity exchanged for something deeper and darker; a light voice, sweet like sugar and song, swapped for something lower, something that scraped the inside of her chest, sparking, crackling like flint fire; her very form, her heart and her ewer, made a far cry from its typical lilting grace, no longer carried by the breeze but cutting through it, sharper, deadlier, and of course, much more suited to climbing trees.

(It had been interesting, though, to be Sir Valter -- to reap less than a harvest of warm greetings at best, and bear more than impassivity at worst. If any person could be satisfied with themself in a manner both sensible and entire, well, it still would not be her; even so, she is glad that she is herself again, and he is himself again, and glad that the matter is such an evident, unquestionable relief to the both of them.)

She wears the proof in whitened fingers, color flooding into them once more as Valter relinquishes what had been her grip. Something that for her would have coiled around and held with warm insistence had instead clutched with such solidity, and now, despite how this has been her home -- her self! -- for no less than seventeen years and a scattering of months, weeks, and days (and indeed, perhaps a year or so lost in the ripples of time around the academy), after what has only been a handful of hours...

Well, she does suppose she still feels rather strange. A little bit almost condensed, for one -- what an odd way to think of herself! -- and yet assuredly lighter, too, in ways beyond the mass of muscle and bone. Perhaps (or rather definitely) she will think more on this later, but for now--

--had she ever heard Valter laugh in such a way? Or to repeat himself so straightforwardly? Three times, he says the same two words, and praises her no less! And the lines meted across his lips feel distinctly different, the shape of it not unfamiliar and yet Maria is certain: it is in some way the most a smile she has ever seen, from him.

And she rather likes it, seeing her friends smile.

What can she do but smile back? A lopsided smile is not so different from a crooked one but for gentleness of their curves and the pronounced presence of angles; the laughter she holds in a beat longer than she elsewise would skews it in favor of one side over the other, eminently pleased with the simple (was it so simple?) fact of his satisfaction.

"Welcome home, Sir Valter," she replies once the laugh slips out, a light touch of playfulness to her voice yet no less genuine for it. A moment's consideration passes, and then it seems only right to add, in that same seamless twist of mirthful sincerity: "Thanks for all your hard work today!"

[princessmacedon]

a verse in commonality

mission board: epidemic - +1 gauntlet (making chocolate)

[luminousrider]

Sillyhead, huh? It's not exactly the word she would have described her older brother with as they flew above the battlefield, powerful holy lance in each of their hands, ready to destroy the other if she wasn't able to convince him to see reason. Stubborn ass was probably the better term but looking at Maria's sweet smile has Altena keeping her language in check. "Partners in having sillyhead brothers for sure," she agrees with a nod.

"I think they had molds for making different shapes of chocolate at the front of the room. I wonder if they'd have a wyvern..." She's seen cute shapes of chocolate before. There's no way she's the only person who thinks wyverns are absolutely adorable. But would Leif like that? Would wyvern shaped chocolates just be projecting her own interests on him? And her father...would he think it was too childish? Altena frowns. "They probably would only have the Fódlan breeds anyway..."

Altena listens as Maria talks fondly of her older sister and their clearly close relationship. She wonders if she could be the kind of big sister who talks to her little sibling about her friendships someday. She can't claim to have many of them and she doesn't know if Leif would care at all about something so mundane as that. But she does think she'd like it if she knew that Leif spoke fondly of her.

But then Maria keeps speaking and Altena is pulled out of her own thoughts with a jolt. "Wait...Minerva Minerva?"

[princessmacedon]

Oh, right! Even if they did have wyvern molds, it wouldn’t be the right kind, would it? But it’s not as if she’s going to let that stop her! Newly reinvigorated, Maria sets herself to the task of digging through all the different molds at their disposal.

“Then we just have to make it ourselves! Hee hee… right?” The staple of many creative endeavors is a good set of letters, and the little princess looks quite pleased with herself when she holds up a mold of the letters ‘S’ and ‘V’ in a script halfway between elegant and practical. “We’ll have to be really careful with it, but if we can pour the chocolates in here and cut them just right, I think we could make them into the neck, tail, and arms! Oh, and maybe even their wings!”

Her excitement grows as she holds up the letter ‘A’, eyes sparkling with inspiration.

“And look at this one! If we fill in the holes after, don’t you think we can make this look like a head? Hee hee… one of the feet of the ‘A’ could even be its horns! What do you think?

“It’ll be a lot more fragile,” she continues, expanding her quest for molds in search of one that might make a good body, “But I’m sure they’ll like it! I mean, when you put so much work into making something just for them… isn’t that another way of saying ‘I love you’?”

Pausing to turn toward Altena again, she holds up an index finger triumphantly, mischief set in a grinning flash of teeth.

“And I’m really curious now! A fire spell would be too hot, but what if we use faith instead? Melt the edges just a little bit and stick them together, and…!”

Oh, that’s the shock of someone who definitely knows who Minerva is. Mischief morphs at once into a glimmer of whole-hearted excitement, and, molds still in hand, Maria nods fervently.

“My big sister, Minerva! Flying instructor, red hair—“ She shakes her head at that, tresses rustling through the air. “—and sharp, kind, and pretty eyes? She rides a wyvern, just like you!”

[unsungblade]

✦ —𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝.

↳ mission: anniversary 2024 ( +1 heavy armor )

[unsungblade]

So fast, she says, but it’d be a different story had the flintstone turned out to be no good or the kindling too damp after all. He can’t count on someone like Sir Abel coming to the rescue again—it’s just himself and Princess Maria, effectively trapped a ways from the trail that would have led them back down the mountain before the storm blew in.

Well, she could use magic to light the fire instead in that case, and it would be even faster if so, but fortunately there’s no need this time. Still, knowing how to start one the magic-less way is a useful skill to have; he ought to teach her should the opportunity present itself at some point…

“And if I were to say that the cold really doesn’t bother me very much? What would you do then?” There’s a flicker of mirth in sea-dark eyes, the corners of Kris’s mouth subtly upturned. Her seemingly perpetual cheer is an infectious thing, and he’s never claimed to possess immunity to it; hasn’t had much time to develop any to begin with. It is true though that he’s mostly fine as is, likened to a human hearth whenever someone got close enough to notice (rare, because he isn’t a very touchy person). With the fire helping to stave off winter’s last hurrah in the meantime, he’s content to allow her the luxury of having the cloak to herself.

“It would be even sillier for you to potentially fall ill because you chose not to wear it,” he remarks with a huff, pulling the previously-mentioned food and water from his pack and extending it towards Maria in offering. “But if you insist, I promise to tell you should it indeed grow chillier. I swear on my honor as a knight of Altea.”

Kris never does anything in half-measures, at the very least.

[princessmacedon]

Maria doesn't miss the change in his expression, eyes ever watchful for their nuances and subtle shifts, and so when he sort-of-but-doesn't-quite smile? Naturally she makes up the difference, a toothy thing pulled into crescent shape, seven quarters to his one.

"Then?" She echoes the word, buying a moment for her lips to twist the other direction and purse, cinched into a thoughtful hum. "Hmm, then...

"Then I'd think about it," she answers honestly, nodding as she speaks as if to affirm herself. "You know, people try to hide things from kids and clerics!" And being both of those right now and one of them forever, well -- it doesn't change who she is aside from that, but it does at times reinforce herself. "I'm always going to double check," the little cleric admits, the tip of her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth in a playful smile, "Because I'm always going to worry."

Truth be told, knights are especially egregious when it comes to the crime of saying they're okay when they're not, somewhere right up there with clerics.

"But I'll listen to you, too," she promises, turning her head on its side and laying a smiling cheek atop her arms. "So I insist! Okay?" Another laugh; another grin. "And I'll stay cozy until then!"

The promise mollifies her as well, a seed of trust placed in his offering palms. Or perhaps watered? Perhaps it had been planted when he fought alongside her sister, alongside Prince Marth, and helped to free so many lost in the dark.

It is much pleasanter with a campfire.

"Do you know a lot about camping and adventuring, Kris?" She would assume that he does, but she's always preferred asking anyway. Accepting the provisions with a smiled 'thank you', she examines them with curious eyes, as if searching for the qualities she had accounted for as well as the ones she hadn't. "I've learned a little bit, but there's a lot I don't know!" Rosy-hued eyes flit toward him, the gems of a shining face. "And I should learn, right? Especially if I want to go on an even bigger adventure one day!"

[dueth]

TOA* RAMEN RETSUDEN !!

[dueth]

Barrelling towards them is a bright bundle of light, and Eir is taken in instantly when Maria beams at her, holding a candy out in her open hand. A hesitant smile rises to her face; she accepts the gift, pocketing it somewhere safe. Eir watches as Raika wolfs down her bribe in one go, and finds herself curious about its flavour. She’ll have to ask Maria later on— though she hopes they can eat them together.

“Eir,” she replies, simply, and attempts a smile. Maria made it feel easy. “It’s wonderful to meet you, too.”

Following up fast on their brief exchange, Raika jumps into business. When it’s Eir’s turn to answer, she can only shake her head. She’d had the opportunity to participate in Hoshidan tradition when they’d rung in the New Year, once, though the only foods she had eaten then had been confectionery. The memory of mochi resurfaces; Eir’s brow furrows. “I cannot claim much experience with food… but likewise, I will do my best to meet your expectations.”

If Raika is unnerved by two total beginners, she doesn’t show it— in fact, she lights up instead. “Two total newbies, huh?! This is gonna be fun,” she says with a grin, beginning to march towards the kitchen door behind the stall. She’s in high spirits; Eir watched as she announces to herself, without looking behind: “All right, time to show you both what ramen’s all about!”

She turns to glance towards Maria before following suit.

Their new boss is quick to show them the ropes, putting names to different stations around the kitchen and listing out tasks. Several adjustments had been made to accommodate those completely new to cooking, Raika explains, so that a lack of experience wouldn’t deter anyone interested. The scope of their work today is easy enough to grasp— though Eir cannot quite nearly anticipate what it might feel like under pressure. She sets the thought aside for now.

With their drilling done, Raika dismisses them for the afternoon; she orders them to relax and have lunch while she prepares the stall for opening in the evening. Eir had offered to stick around to help, but the chef wouldn’t hear a word of it. Perhaps it was more appropriate to say that she had shooed them out.

Eir stands next to Maria outside of the stall. After a moment, she decides to let it go. She turns to the girl beside her instead. “Thank you for the gift earlier,” she says. Eir reaches into her pocket to fish out the candy— slightly melted, but still shapely. Joy is doubled when shared. “Shall we have them together?”

[princessmacedon]

Raika, in all her enthusiasm, proves absolutely right: it is fun, and with the more arduous task of making the noodles having been done for them ahead of time, Maria is pleasantly surprised by just how quick the rest of the process is.

("Too bad you missed out on the fun part," their day's mentor had teased them from the other side of a boiling pot, "But it'd take a lot longer. But hey!" She'd laughed then, seeing the war of propriety against ineffable curiosity play out on the little cleric's brow. "Maybe if you guys do really well, I can teach you about it at the end of the day! How's that sound?")

True to her enthusiasm, Maria had applied herself diligently to the task of learning. It was a much different sort of kitchen than she was used to -- less cozy and leisurely and instead much more systemized -- but the core of it had been the same, if not even easier. Left with nothing but a good feeling, she giggles as they're ushered out the metaphorical door, bright eyes turned up toward Eir. She's graceful, and beautiful, and probably tall enough to reach enough shelves to make someone jealous! And Maria laughs, again, through a pleased, toothy grin.

"Hee hee... yeah! I'd love to!"

So she'd settled on top of a nearby box, brushing off enough clean space for the both of them before taking to her perch. The candy is a bit softer to the touch after so long in the kitchen, but not enough to be a problem just yet.

"This is the perfect time to eat them!" (She nods to herself, quite satisfied, before sneaking a peek at Eir and giggling again.) Her voice takes on a melodramatic lilt, her palm swiping over a panel of air. "Because this... is the calm before the storm!" Not that she's particularly worried about it, if her tone is any indication; perhaps not at all, if one were to measure by her laughter instead.

"I thought something sweet might give us a bit of energy before the stall opens! And it might make us feel a bit better if we got nervous, too." Still grinning, she opens the small bit of paper to reveal the piece of candy left for herself. "They're candied Noa fruit peels! Have you ever had any, Eir?"

[princessmacedon]

where shadows fell before

[knighteclipsed]

By Maria’s remarks, it would appear the marketplace is more diverse than Valter would’ve otherwise suspected. That the Academy was many a rich kids’ playground, he isn’t entirely surprised, but what catches his ear in interest is the particular phrasing: ‘especially ones from far away.’

Was that his first real piece of the puzzle? That foreigners were commonplace in this land? (Enough so that their homes could be sampled in the wares of peddlers just south; was his predicament one less surprising here than it would’ve been anywhere else?)

It’s something to ponder; in the meantime, he finally receives a name for this land— ‘Fódlan’, so it is called—as well as his location within it and the neighboring territories. The titles for each place are not unheard of (for Grado was an empire; Rausten, if he recalled, was something of a holy kingdom; he can’t think of any particular alliances in Magvel, but he was certain that they existed), but neutral space between them…

(He was definitely very, very far from home.)

It provides clarity nonetheless—though to describe the three nations as the origins of ‘all over’ makes him rethink his earlier conclusion of foreigners simply appearing—and provides him knowledge enough that, should the cause arise, Valter wouldn’t look like a total fool. (His mind returns again to the location of the monastery—isolated atop a mountain range before the school came about—and there is the idle thought that he would never understand the motives of those who would pilgrim so far for so little.)

—but that was a lot to think about with very little words given in return. He nods, the first visible reaction after the whole of ten seconds. His mind, again, turns over the words that are proffered; and he thinks: of the vastness of the sky; of the wilds beyond the walls.

And, actually, Valter was without his parents—so there wasn’t truly anything stopping him, was there? (He had already noted a stark lack of adults about the premises earlier; he could be without consequence, just a bit, so he thinks.)

“ If adventure is what you’re seeking, ” he decides to speak aloud, and there is something of a glint in his eye, calculating something with himself, “ this is a better place than most to begin. ”

…but the tour was not yet over.

“ We can go see the market, ” the boy continues. (If there was something familiar, that would be a boon; and, in addition, could lead into Valter gaining further clues as to his whereabouts relative to home.) His next words take a moment to form themselves, but they spin themselves and then they emerge: “ …I want to see for myself just what it has in store. ”

[princessmacedon]

There is a very long silence that stretches between the end of her sentence and the beginning of his. The fact of it does not bother Maria so much, though it does make her dreadfully curious as to whether the thoughts that occupy his head are anything to do with what she's said, or not in the slightest bit. What does the Valter of presumably a decade past, or perhaps even more, make of all this?

"Right?" Maria's answer arrives with all the ease that Valter's does not, an uncalculated honesty born in the breath that follows. "I think so, too!"

A playful arpeggio of steps rolls over the stone stairs, cut off partway through as the little princess turns, twists over her shoulder to look back at him, a hand cast toward him in invitation.

"C'mon!" She smiles as she laughs, the invitation turned into a beckoning wave; she does not descend further until he has joined her, for what purpose is there to the adventure if she leaves him behind? "Are you hungry?" Ser Valter, she almost appends, though she manages to catch herself in time. "Hee hee... I'll buy us some lunch, so tell me if you see something you want to eat, okay?"

(Because really, she hasn't a clue what's become of Valter's money. Did the coins change with him? Are his pockets deeper than he remembers, now? And what if they vanished with the magic? Does he even have any money to his name right now at all?)

(And besides, when else will she get a chance to treat him to-- well, treats?)

"It's mostly snacks out here anyway," she continues, waving every so often to this shopkeeper and that one. "Most people get meals at the dining hall, so a lot of vendors focus on selling ingredients and snacks instead! Oh, but we don't have to look at just food, though. There's lots of other fun stuff, too!"

As if on queue, she answers another greeting with a cheerful wave cast toward a seller of novels and novelties.

"So?" Her grin turns toward Valter again. "Did anything catch your eye?"

[princessmacedon]

all things precious

[princessmacedon]

It only takes a single swing from her sister. Her might axe strikes once, and hard, but even as the other brigand breathlessly clutches at his leg, Maria understands at once that this was still a mercy. Not out of consideration for them, but... she turns a thoughtful glance toward her sister, soft, rosy hues set upon a brilliant crimson. Maybe for the place those trespassers sought to spoil, or those who stood behind her valiant back. But these are only guesses; after all, she is no mind reader -- only a girl who loves and listens.

Her attention turns back to the two men not for fondness, but for the many words of caution once worriedly impressed upon a bright-eyed younger sister. A rough hand pulls in panic at a rigid arm, soaked in blood and muttered curses that escalate into a frenzied yowl when the frost breaks. Falling back-- one onto his wounded leg and the other into his bed of earth and sloughed-away ice --the duo scrambles away, soon to be forgotten.

A gentle touch at Maria's knuckles pulls her back to the gentleness, the joy they had protected. Seeing that it has her attention once more, the foal happily noses her hand, snout pressed to the side of it. It rubs its face against it, from the tip of its nose to just below its horn, drawing a flurry of blinks from her in surprise.

"Oh...! Hee hee... I don't think I've ever had someone take pets from me before! Is this your way of saying thank you?" With a few affectionate scritches to the foal's forehead and an affectionate brush of its snout, Maria coos at her new friend for a brief and blissful moment. Her thumb swipes across its cheek, cradling its head as she smiles down at it. "You're welcome, little horse!" (It snorts at that, and presses against her palm as she laughs; they both know better, don't they?)

"But you should thank my sister too, okay? I may have protected you, but she protected both of us!" At that, she lightly taps its nose and proceeds to glue herself to her sister's side, arms encircling her in a loose hug. The young 'horse' huffs as if in understanding, following her to greet Minerva as well.

And after that it will reunite with its family -- just like them, Minerva said. Macedon's youngest presses her cheek into her sister's shoulder, eyes wandering toward the herd waiting for their young one to come back home.

"...just like us," comes the soft, murmured agreement. "We'll be together again." We will, she says, because they are not all together yet; one of them still strays so far away from home. And one day they will be able to let it go -- the pride, the hurt, the blood and sin -- because she has seen time and time again that beneath it all, there was always love. But it will take work. It will take bleeding, and scabbing, and scarring, but--

The unicorn touches her hand one last time in brief farewell, and Maria smiles as it finally makes its way home.

[reddragonprincess]

As she felt the gentle pressure of Maria’s head over her shoulder, Minerva couldn’t help but feel in peace, utterly pleased by the marvellous ending they managed to achieve, together; as the couple glued in a warm embrace, the little horse did seem to understand the request of the petite sister and it proceeded to show its regards to the red-haired woman as well, gently pushing its muzzle against Minerva’s hand, which she carefully offered as soon as she realized that the small animal wanted to share a moment with her too.

It’s soft, humid… thoughts slipped from her mind as she hovered her glance over its small figure, even cuter and smaller than Maria, but she couldn’t really compare the two of them –both were beautiful and extraordinary, pure and innocent. The same soul within two different bodies, or that was what Minerva thought as she shifted her glance over Maria, while her cheerful voice chirped from below, though almost with a soft soft hint of nostalgia, as if she meant something very deep when she replied to Minerva, when she undeniably referred at their brother Michalis, who has been away for a long period by now, but both of them – or at least, Minerva for sure – were certain that it just was a matter of time, of patience, of hope –he would be back, she was extra sure of it.

“We will” the red-haired woman mused, repeating the very same sentence, enforcing it with a serious yet humble tone: she wanted to let Maria know that despite everything, despite the terrible feeling she hold in her stomach, she would always let her heart open for him, let her soul open for peace. It wasn’t easy, it wasn’t simple, but Minerva always struggled a lot for fighting those feelings and she would always do it in order to make Maria happy.

As the little unicorn made one last touch of Maria’s hand, Minerva rubbed her hand on Maria’s shoulder, getting her a little closer to her side, to her body, comforting her, as she knew it would be hard to let the little horse go, especially when a bond so strong yet so thin has just created and of course, would perdure in the years and in the distance.

“Farewell, little horse…” her eyes fixated on the serene sky, where the horde awaited, following the slowly steps in the air, softly trotting while making its ascension towards them. Then a stop, a last turn and it was reunited with its family.

A family is always intended to be protected and she would always mean to keep that promise.

/ e n d.

[princessmacedon]

a verse in commonality

mission board: epidemic - +1 gauntlet (making chocolate)

[luminousrider]

Altena is glad for this setup for the class. They have written instructions and are allowed to work at their own pace. She much prefers this to an instructor standing at the front of the room dictating what to do. This way she can take her time if needed. And, well, it's easier to continue talking with Maria this way. Altena might not be the most sociable person but there is something about Maria that weakens her walls.

She gets to work on her half of the chocolate, keeping her cuts as even as she can. "Maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both get to see our brothers again in time to give them this chocolate." It's wishful thinking and thinking she doesn't actually think will happen, at least on her end. But there is something about Maria, too, that inspires a little bit of hope.

"You could come with me, if you wanted, when I give these to Leif. It's only fair that you get to take credit for knowing what he might like." She wonders what it would be like to spend time with Leif if Maria was there, too. If the young girl's sunny warmth might be able to cut through the awkwardness that still lingers between the two siblings.

But she stops cutting and tilts her head curiously to look at Maria. "What do you mean, Altena Altena?"

[princessmacedon]

"Do you think so?" There is a softness to her voice as she poses the question, a smile that curls the corners of her lips even as she tucks it behind the sheaf of paper bearing their instructions. "Hee hee... if he comes back... then it's okay even if he's late! Then I'll just make him better chocolates! Fresh ones, with fillings he likes! And maybe I'll learn how to make them into cute shapes -- like wyverns!" Even as she continues setting up their station, she laughs. "I don't think he'll care what shape they're in, but... hee hee! It makes me happy. Oh -- I should look into treats for wyverns, too!"

And she laughs again, well aware that she's babbling, the smile flashed toward Altena packed with a mischief that all but admits it. Wishful thinking it may be, but it puts dreams in her heart and a sparkle in her eyes, and she fails to see anything wrong with that.

"If you need help making anything for your brother, let me know, okay? After all, we're kind of like partners now, aren't we? --partners in having sillyhead brothers!" Whether or not that's the case for Altena's other brother, she isn't sure, but Michalis is at times certainly, incurably silly, and he'll have a hard time convincing her otherwise. Then: "Oh! Are you sure? I like both of you, so of course it sounds fun! But if you're making chocolates for the Day of Devotion, too..." Her smile turns gentler now, half hidden behind the thoughtful reach of her fingertips, the corners of her eyes made soft. "...hee hee. I'd be just as happy to cheer you on instead!"

Sorting through the bowls until she finds the designated 'right one', Maria's expression shifts again. This time her smile is pressed into a wide line, quietly, utterly pleased.

"Well... I don't know why I didn't think of it before," it's because of continuity, "But my sister tells me about her friends sometimes! And there's one of them she really likes spending time with -- her name is Altena, too!" Oh, but there's a sparkle in her eyes. "That's you, isn't it? Do you know Minerva?"

[princessmacedon]

"faith" is a fine invention

->FAITH +1

[hresvelged]

She feels no need to introduce herself any differently. How often will she get a chance like this? Rarely. This man can remember her as Maria's friend. Yes, that's more than enough.

".. The seas were extra rocky this time," he admits. His right hand rolls up his left sleeve to reveal shallow scrapes. "I made the mistake of standing right where we speak. And, well.." The colorless expression looks away from them and onto the wooden floor below. "Yeah. I slammed into the railing here. You can figure out the rest. I'm not usually like this."

From the way he speaks, it's prominent to her that his pride feels pushed at his mistakes. He fails to make contact with either of the two and aims to rest a hand on the ship's edge behind him. "I need to sit down."

Edelgard brings herself to his side and guides her hands to help lower him onto the ground. The towel falls to the floor as she bend. When she finishes, she reaches for the item and stands back proper.

"I can help clean his injuries. After that.. What next?" Wresting for the gauze she has prepared in the small first aid kit box, she diverts to Maria for her opinion. Lowering her voice's octave, she whispers, "I'd be remiss not to mention the likelihood of him standing up again. We should encourage rest."

[princessmacedon]

"Let's clear him of any unusual symptoms," she answers in a hum. It is a gentle hand that lifts his arm the rest of way up after he bares it, wounds and all. The scrapes themselves don't seem so severe, especially given the good upkeep of the ship, but-- subtly there, she turns his arm, notes the barest twitch of his fingers, and loosens her grip.

"Here," Maria interjects, procuring a small tin from her bag and popping off its lid. "We should put on a thin layer of this before you bandage it -- it'll help keep it from getting infected. Here, like this." Scooping a small amount of the ointment with her fingertips, she daubs it over some of his scrapes. "Just the arm for now."

Then, turning a light smile toward their patient: "You fell forward, didn't you? --oh, excuse me!" Knuckles brush against his forehead, her easy demeanor never dimming.

"...uh, yeah." The man blinks. "How'd you... well, never mind. I fell forward -- might have fallen overboard if my knee hadn't buckled on the way over." His tone may be neutral, but he sucks a bit of his frustration through his teeth. For just a brief moment, rosy-hued eyes flick up toward him, reading his expression. Right -- if he feels like he's just brushed against death out of carelessness, the bruise to his self-security must be deeper than the one against his ribs. Humor likely won't serve him well then... maybe a more light, but still steady attitude.

"Things look pretty good so far," Maria hums again, a gentle lilt she takes care to carry to his ears. Turning toward Edelgard, she winks with the half of her face hidden from his view, a toothy smile sprawling across her face. "Let's check his knee for feeling and range of motion next, then move on to his chest and stomach."

[dueth]

TOA* RAMEN RETSUDEN !!

[dueth]

As students flock to Garreg Mach from lands far and wide, the church has proposed an extra-curricular activity for those of The Officers Academy intended to show the surrounding townspeople their appreciation for their warm hospitality. Doubling as a cultural exchange program, some merchants hailing from Hoshido have set up a ramen pop-up stall in collaboration with the academy, inviting any and all interested to try their hand.

This is where dreams are boiled, strained, souped, garnished, and served! Is ramen just a beloved dish of Hoshido, or is it perhaps something more…?

The skies overhead are clear, golden rays washing Garreg Mach in its brilliance. The wind blows favorably today, and carry with them the tangy scent of salt. High up in the mountains, they are far from the sea— beneath the fragrance that wafts through the air is a pleasant heat, the undertone of spice. It is a smell both intriguing and inviting, and in following the whims of her nose, the princess finds herself at its source before long.

Before her stands the ramen stall, a fresh sight in the town of Garreg Mach. It had been constructed right by the main market, earning its fair share of foot traffic from both locals and travelers alike. Whether it is the taste that entices them, or the glimpse of a foreign land afforded only for a brief season, the fact remains that the stall was a huge hit. Outside, Eir’s glance falls upon a busy-looking woman, dressed in a uniform of sorts. She approaches.

“Good morning. My name is Eir… I was told that I was to work today’s shift?” Eir introduces herself, slightly uncertain. If this isn’t the chef she was told to report to today, the embarrassment would be nothing short of severe.

“Oh, Eir! Yeah, I got you on my list. I’m Raika, the chef in charge. Thanks for showing up today!” The chef grins, wide and toothy. Her warm enthusiasm brings out a small smile in Eir; the brilliance of life was so evident in her features. Raika looks down and ticks a box, the action punctuated with a self-congratulatory fist pump. “Awesome. Now I’m just waiting for one more person— your partner for today, actually..!”

Eir nods. Raika glances at the papers in her hand, then raises her head. They stare at one another for a moment. As Eir begins to harbour the thought of asking if anything might be askance, the chef angles her head, looking right over Eir’s shoulder. “Oh, there she is! Heeeey! Over here!”

Let’s rack up those 5★ reviews, @princessmacedon!

[princessmacedon]

"--but you should get going! You had something else to get to, didn't you?"

"Oh--!" The shapes of Maria's eyes and mouth are one and the same as she throws a glance over her shoulder and in a vague direction: perfectly circular, and the picture of surprise. Behind her now, the shopkeeper chuckles, patting her purchase into her palm, and soon enough waving back to the hastily thrown farewell.

Further down the main path the little cleric wanders, until the warm scent of something unfamiliar wafts past her. That must be it...! Pace quickening, she sticks her arm up in the air and waves back at the woman who appears to be in charge of the stand.

"Hiiiiiii!" The greeting stretches alongside her steps, both drawn to a sudden stop as she pops up like a daisy in front of the pair. "Hee hee... almost... there... ... ... I made it!"

"Barely on time!" Their new boss shakes a finger teasingly, and throws in a wink for good measure. A grin begets a giggle, and a giggle unfurls Maria's palm, revealing three wrapped pieces of candy.

"Eeeeeeven if I have a bribe for everyone?" Her hand ventures closer to the boss, who takes her share, then toward her apparent partner for the day, offered with a beaming smile. "It's nice to meet you," she whispers, careful to set aside a greeting just for her.

"Hmm." A concise chomp into the candied peel is pocketed away behind the woman's teeth. "Perfectly on time, then. You must be Maria? I'm Raika, and this is your partner today!" Her palm turns toward the woman beside her, offering up a moment for self-introduction before Raika continues speaking.

"So, tell me: how much do you know about making ramen? Don't worry if you don't know anything -- that's what I'm here for -- but I'd like to get a sense of where to start."

"I've never had ramen before," Maria admits easily, chin thoughtfully propped on the ledge of her index finger and steadied by her thumb. "Oh, but I'm pretty good at cooking! Hee hee... I'll do my best to learn fast!"

"Perfect! That's all I could ask for." Raika's smile approves of the enthusiasm, her hands clapping together as her gaze swivels toward Eir. "What about you?"