saint - king.

closed alm. blue lions student at the officers academy. currently retired.

[rigellion]

quick navigation:  about.  stats.  interview.  mun + guidelines.

a closed roleplay blog for alm from fire emblem gaiden / echoes: shadows of valentia. writtten by susanne (she/her, 23).

additional portrayal notes.

alm is twenty-one years old, placing him over two years after the canon events.

he wasn't crowned the king of valentia during the ending of sov. he first ascended rigel's throne as emperor rudolf's successor  &  focused on rebuilding the empire before finally unifying the continent with celica.

in the present day, he is the king of valentia, revered as saint-king alm by some, and a blue lions student during his stay in fódlan.

alm arrived later than celica, as it was far too early in their reign. he stayed behind to ensure everything would be in order before entrusting valentia to chancellor mycen and other trusted advisors.

other toa-affiliated blogs:  virtuoustyrfing + sacretic.

[rigellion]

nailed it

[unsungblade]

His origins have never been anything glamorous, but an Altean knight does not need them to be. Aptitude over blood is the way of the kingdom’s swords and shields; that Kris hails from a small, unremarkable village is rarely of note when it is his sense of duty and combat prowess which speaks for him in his stead. Which proves that his standing as a Royal Guard is one properly earned.

Conversely, it is those exact origins that give him a leg up on this assignment, armed this time with tools to help repair the damage and destruction left in the wake of recent bandit attacks. Even if Sera had never much suffered any itself, the same could hardly be said for others he’d come across since then—more and more did it become a useful skill to have on hand for helping the less fortunate. Like today, for instance.

“Never from the ground up like this,” Kris replies after a beat, unmoving from his position save to steady the angle of his hammer before committing to its swing. “Repairs were usually enough depending on how bad the damage was.” Provided there was still a village and its people left to aid in the first place, goes unsaid.

A glance in the other’s direction then, searching his face for signs of familiarity. The green of his hair is fairly distinct at the least; a fellow swordsman perhaps, based on past sightings he can recall. “I get the feeling I’ve seen you around before too, now that you mention it. Are you a Blue Lion?”

Another swing or two of the hammer drives the nail deeper into the wood, until the top is flush against the grainy material. Reaching for another to further secure his end of the wooden plank where it connects to the frame, it hangs pinched between callused fingers for a moment as he realizes he hasn’t given Alm his name yet. “Name’s Kris, also. You can usually find me in the training grounds outside of classes, if that jogs your memory any.”

[rigellion]

Repairs. Damage. Such words don't only resonate with Alm but give him the impression that he's speaking with someone experienced. Rebuilding was the vital first step after the war; after bandits, pirates and Terrors alike ran rampant throughout the land. Of course, Alm can't say he knows the other student's circumstances. He doesn't know if they happen to mirror his own.

"I am."

Another good hit drives the nail into the wood. Alm reaches for another nail—

—Only for him to pause. Emerald eyes widen as something clicks in place: he thinks he remembers a blue-haired swordsman hard at practice. "That rings a bell."

Alm resumes his task.

"I make a habit of going to the training grounds almost daily," the Valentian continues. A small, fond smile touches his face. "I guess I still think about the disappointed look my grandf– er, Sir Mycen would give me back when I was just a boy."

Even though Alm is a king now, and Grandfather is the Chancellor, some things still stick with him.

"Anyway, good to meet you, Kris." A nod. "And about what you said earlier... It sounds like you have some experience. Was it bandits?"

[rigellion]

mr. and mrs. rudolf

[rigellion]

earlier, he was mostly joking about those heels. but at least celica's sharp aim discourages the guy from running away again. and now that alm gets a better look at the servant, it hits him how young this guy actually looks. he can't be much older than either of them, right?

alm slows down to a stop, straightening once celica slides off his back. he is content to leave most of the talking to her. after all, she's better with words than he is.

and yep. this guy is definitely not succeeding in making himself sound any less suspicious. alm is pretty sure this is their rogue, but... where does his motives lie? what's his end goal? and really, what kind of a thief would leave a note announcing his plans to steal some nobleman's treasure?

he glances at celica, wondering if she has also realized this. something is off about this entire situation.

"listen, we're willing to hear you out and not immediately hand you over to the guards," he takes his opportunity to speak up. the servant's gaze slowly turns to him, wary and distrustful. "but you have to tell us where the heirloom is first, okay?"

a second passes, followed by another—

"fine!" the server huffs. "the statue."

alm opens his mouth; he's about to ask what the servant exactly means by it... except it all suddenly clicks into place. "keep an eye on him," he says to celica, nodding in the servant's direction.

and with that said, the king heads back over to the fountain.

the water audibly splashes as he wades his way through, stopping in front of the small elevated platform. alm looks up at the duke's stony features but doesn't focus on that. instead, with one foot on the platform, he reaches for the scepter— or rather, its centerpiece.

alm yanks it free and stumbles back as a result.

"c— anthiese, i got it!" he holds it up. "but just to make sure... you can sense something, right?"

[seraphiia]

As Alm goes to investigate the location of the artifact, Celica approaches the young man, a close eye kept on him as she leans down to pick up her heel lodged in the dirt. He flinches for a moment, as if he expected her to hurt him—but of course, that couldn't be farther from the actual truth of things.

(Unless he gave her a reason to, of course.)

"Why did you do it?" She asks, instead. "For money, I assume? A magical heirloom like that would no doubt run for a pretty coin down in the markets—the black market, even. There have been a number of illegal magical products making circulation as of late."

And an artifact that could take the shape of almost anything? Miraculous as it was dangerous, depending on what hands it fell into.

The young man sniffs with annoyance, "As if fancy blue bloods like you would understand. You've never had to want for anything. Never had to starve, never had to worry about where your next meal came from..."

His eyes flit up as Alm returns with the heirloom, and the man scoffs, "I was told that if I nabbed the artifact from the Duke, me and my siblings wouldn't have to worry about a thing anymore."

Celica frowns. He could be telling the truth, or he could just as easily be fabricating a story to garner sympathy, and lessen his punishment. No matter his reasons, he was caught in the midst of a crime—something had to be done about it.

Turning to Alm, she reaches out to touch the scepter, humming in confirmation. "...Yes, I feel a tremendous amount of magic coming from this. Amazing job, love. It seems we've found our item. We'll have to return it to the Duke. As for our friend here..."

"Tell us more about your siblings. I don't know who roped you into this, but my beloved and I will assure that they are taken care of while you're explaining your story in the Knights' custody."

The man hangs his head in defeat, but Celica knows it's for the best. She glances at Alm, sharing a nod with him. No matter the servant's reasons, he needed to take accountability for what he's done, and they couldn't risk believing a lie and allowing him to escape. Of course, she would keep her word to help his family.

In some way, it was the greed and privilege of the wealthy that led to this—however small the gesture might be, this would be their way of giving back.

For now, the authorities could take it from here. Perhaps she could share at least one more dance with her beloved, before the night's end...

end.

[maligknightsthorns]

Weird Birds

[maligknightsthorns]

If there’s one thing the incredibly rich are known to enjoy, it’s their exotic imports. This mysterious benefactor of yours is no different; your task for the day is to shuttle some rare creatures from port to the stables. They’re perfectly docile, supposedly, but whispers are quick to spread. Those from Magvel recognize Gargoyles and Deathgoyles when they see them, but you don’t have to come from afar to know that whiplike tails and talons that can tear through flesh with ease might just spell trouble. Aaanyway, be sure not to harm a hair on these exorbitantly expensive beasts’ heads! [Grants Flying +1]

@rigellion

This whole situation was weird. They were staff and students of an elite military academy, so why did this weirdo want them to be the ones building things for his island? Clearing out monsters she could understand, but babysitting these weird birds was a bit of a stretch.

Camilla pitted the poor creatures. Clearly their cage was too small, judging from how they thrashed wildly against the bars. Their faces were grotesque, like a small dog breed with a smashed face somehow got even more smashed in. Their prehensile feet were unnerving as they tried in vain to pull at the bars, though there was something to be admired in the way they moved.

“Oh I wish our “generous patron” could spend a few days in these cages.” She crossed her arms with a huff. “See how well they like it.” She frowned as one of the creatures tried to wrap its thorny tail around the bars and tried to pull, only for its grip to give out and force them to crash down to the ground. “These creatures should be free, or at the very least given more space to move.” She looks over at the student assigned to watch over these creatures with her.

She doesn’t know much about him, he’s a good student who doesn’t get into trouble and he isn’t on her radar of students to watch, but he seems tense at the sight of the creatures. “I don’t think you have much to worry about dear, that cage is pretty sturdy.” She makes an attempt to sooth what ever nerves he may have. “They’re just grouchy being stuck in a small space.”

[rigellion]

The longer Alm is here, the less he likes this situation. He wouldn't mind the assignment as much if he was watching over the transport of anything else. Of all the things a rich guy can import from some faraway land, why does it have to be monsters? He almost wonders if the mysterious client happens to have a death wish.

He has already voiced his concerns, of course. But all he was met with was a hearty laugh, a pat on the back and reassurances that these creatures wouldn't hurt a fly. Alm doesn't believe it, not even for one second. Nothing about the Gargoyles and Deathgoyles trashing at the bars of their cages says 'docile' to him.

Grouchy? They should be free? Alm has to stop himself from opening his mouth at the unfamiliar woman's comments — mostly because it might just turn into an argument. As far as he knows, she is someone who works for the monastery. And... well, it doesn't sound like she's familiar with the creatures they are transporting.

"Oh, that's not what I'm worried about," Alm shakes his head. With Falchion, he could easily take down a Gargoyle if one happened to break free... Except the job description happens to specify not harming them.

"I take it you aren't familiar with them? While I heard these ones were brought here from somewhere called Magvel, my homeland has a fair share of them too." Unfortunately, he adds to himself.

"That's a Gargoyle, and the one over there is a Deathgoyle," Alm points out each creature in question, frowning. "We call them 'Terrors' where I come from — the same as any other monster like a Bonewalker, Revenant or Mogall, really. They won't hesitate to swoop in from above and kill a person... And sometimes, they sit as still as statues until some poor unsuspecting traveler comes across them."

The more he speaks, the more serious he sounds.

"So I don't think they should be here at all."

[rigellion]

i can tell i'm getting stronger.  ✧  july status: passed!

skill points earned:

1 (monthly), allocated to bow

total skill points: 43  →  44

skill changes:

bow b  →  bow b (½)

[mmoneystones]

The first ones within the king's list are none that Citrinne can recall, which should be nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, she feels less tense as Alm provides the brief descriptions of those he knows. They are minimal, yet a ruler their people to that extent is still reassuring.

It is the third name, however, that snap Citrinne's memories back. She is fortunate to already have gulped her swig of water down, as she would have choked otherwise. It is also lucky that most of the drink has been finished, or else the sudden tug would likely spill by Alm as before.

"Em- Celica?!" Citrinne's face only tightens in response to the man's lightened expression. The name is finally recalled, but...wasn't the Celica that Citrinne knew a simple, strong priestess? Did the records miss the part of her becoming queen? No matter the reason, that is quite the important detail to leave out!

The blonde softly coughs in recovery. This is not her first instance stumbling upon an Emblem's likeness, so freaking out further would only make things more awkward. "Actually, that is the exact person I have met. Or...rather, not in physical form. There are figures of legend from my land that appeared to assist us in times of need."

Does that explanation sound crazy? She probably sounds crazy.

"It could just be a great coincidence, but I am almost certain this Celica was from a Valentia too. If I see her tonight, I could certainly tell...not that you'd have to introduce me! Or that we have to meet now!"

A light red enters the corners of her cheeks. Even with the benefit of the party, Citrinne doubts how composed she can be encountering one of them tonight.

[rigellion]

looking up, it's difficult not to notice the reaction drawn out by celica's name. it's definitely not the first time bringing up his beloved has had this effect —— even despite the more casual context of this conversation. alfred had seemed surprised, exclaiming how he didn't know celica was married to alm.

(with the whole angel of love situation, alm never got a chance to ask alfred how he and celica knew each other.)

and there's also... ugh. alm isn't going to think about the weird guy with his odd interest in celica. not right now, anyway.

alm can only blink at citrinne's explanation. this isn't something he expected to hear tonight: legendary figures assisting the people of elyos in the times of need? the legendary figures who apparently don't have a physical form? and celica happens to be one of them?

"well, i didn't really expect to hear anything like this... but i believe you, and i don't think it's just a coincidence."

because it makes sense, doesn't it?

"i'm pretty sure celica has mentioned something to me." there's a small pause; the brow furrows. what was it again? it's right on the top of his tongue— aha! "right, i think it was about her getting recognized by someone she didn't know?"

alm doesn't sound entirely sure.

"and if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are those figures of legend?"

[rigellion]

mr. and mrs. rudolf

[seraphiia]

He doesn't need to tell her twice.

Celica grabs one of the heels in her hand, wisps of wind magic already building on her palm—arm rears back, and she throws it with all the strength she can muster. With sharp aim and a bit of wind, the shoe is propelled towards the bush, rousing a frightened yelp from the man within.

"F-Fine! You win, you win! Don't hurt me...!"

The man, dressed in server's clothes, scuttles out from his hiding place, hands raised. He doesn't look like a villain or criminal mastermind... rather plain, really. And with his sandy brown hair and freckled cheeks, young too.

The queen's brow furrows, and slowly, she lets herself off of Alm's back. "You have it, don't you? The Duke's heirloom."

"What?" He balks incredulously, "That's ridiculous. Didn't even know it was lost. And anyway, I was just taking a walk around the grounds to calm my head, when you guys started chasing me for no reason."

She gives Alm a sidelong glance, and hums shortly. "Really? A walk where you discreetly shuffle into several rooms and attempt to make a break for it? Doesn't sound to be the most relaxing."

"You—"

"We can feel it. It's somewhere around here. Now do tell us where, or..." Celica slowly raises the last heel remaining in her hand (in an empty threat, of course), and the man stiffens. Next to him on the ground, her first heel is practically lodged into the dirt. Alm was right—they did make effective weapons.

[rigellion]

earlier, he was mostly joking about those heels. but at least celica's sharp aim discourages the guy from running away again. and now that alm gets a better look at the servant, it hits him how young this guy actually looks. he can't be much older than either of them, right?

alm slows down to a stop, straightening once celica slides off his back. he is content to leave most of the talking to her. after all, she's better with words than he is.

and yep. this guy is definitely not succeeding in making himself sound any less suspicious. alm is pretty sure this is their rogue, but... where does his motives lie? what's his end goal? and really, what kind of a thief would leave a note announcing his plans to steal some nobleman's treasure?

he glances at celica, wondering if she has also realized this. something is off about this entire situation.

"listen, we're willing to hear you out and not immediately hand you over to the guards," he takes his opportunity to speak up. the servant's gaze slowly turns to him, wary and distrustful. "but you have to tell us where the heirloom is first, okay?"

a second passes, followed by another—

"fine!" the server huffs. "the statue."

alm opens his mouth; he's about to ask what the servant exactly means by it... except it all suddenly clicks into place. "keep an eye on him," he says to celica, nodding in the servant's direction.

and with that said, the king heads back over to the fountain.

the water audibly splashes as he wades his way through, stopping in front of the small elevated platform. alm looks up at the duke's stony features but doesn't focus on that. instead, with one foot on the platform, he reaches for the scepter— or rather, its centerpiece.

alm yanks it free and stumbles back as a result.

"c— anthiese, i got it!" he holds it up. "but just to make sure... you can sense something, right?"

[ventusanimae]

You Know What They Say About God and Anime || Merric & Alm

[ventusanimae]

@rigellion ; Heavy Armor +1

While Merric is opposed to the idea of war and conflict being a necessary part of human history and always will be, he nevertheless acknowledges that a part of history they are no matter what, and that the young people who will shape tomorrow should learn about them; and the idea of re-enacting past mistakes to avoid repeating them is an interesting one. Naturally, he remembers the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, and knows that the annual event at the Academy commemorates a great battle that helped determine what Fódlan ended up becoming. Of course, it was far from the only fateful military combat in the continent's history; the Saints, the Elites and many other greater and smaller heroes faced their trials and tribulations, conquering villains and monsters alike.

For one of such conflict, the Academy comes up with an interesting idea; that one great battle need not be the only one that they play out as a big event to allow students to more effectively learn about its weight. And so, a group of curious souls gathers, complete with costumes, props and equipment, ready to play out a tale of heroes, bandits, dark wizards and monsters.

Merric, for his part, finds himself both interested and amused by the whole thing. Interested, because simply put, he enjoys studying history; and amused, because he was asked to play the part of one of those dark wizards who led his underlings on a mission to bring down the Goddess and crush the souls of her people.

Well, that one certainly brings back memories. The request admittedly made him laugh when he first got it - what has he done that made the Church believe he could believably pull of the characterization of some of the most horrible people he has ever met? But alright, he can try.

So it is that during the day of the presentation, Merric adjusts the hood covering his face and hair as he looks around the imitated battlefield, walking slowly through it. The Wind spirits follow him, giving him a more otherwordly aura, intimidating to the unknowing, in spite of not serving as any serious threat until he commands otherwise. Facing the group of students playing the role of the heroes, he smiles, trying to make it look at least a little evil.

"Ha. Is that all that the Goddess' pawns have in them? Is there no one that has the courage to face me?"

[rigellion]

maybe they happened to remember alm's answer during that interview, the necessary step towards his enrollment at the academy so long ago. or maybe not. regardless, playing the role of a hero suits him far better than being armed with a tome he can't use. while it's no falchion or royal sword, bound to neither brand nor bloodline, the weight of a sword is blessedly familiar in his grasp — as is the shield strapped to his arm.

none of the other students, his fellow heroes in this presentation, seem eager to immediately rush at their 'enemy.' should alm glance at them, he would find their eyes drawn to the aura surrounding the hooded sorcerer.

this is how it's supposed to play out: they are wary, maybe a little fearful, and definitely second-guessing themselves. how are we supposed to win this, that doubtful voice says, and—

"i do!" one of them steps forward, rising to the challenge. it's alm, dressed in whites and silvers —— the opposite colors of his usual student uniform.

(huh, professor merric is making an effort to make that smile look somewhat sinister.)

"in the name of the goddess," he tries saying this as naturally as possible. it's like he's reciting a line from the play he has long-memorized. that said, invoking the name of fódlan's goddess sits awkwardly on alm's tongue. this isn't the deity he worships or follows. despite growing up in zofia, his faith has shifted from the gods to people themselves.

he points his sword at professor merric.

"—you aren't going any further! this ends here!" but channeling the righteous, youthful indignation into his delivery isn't so difficult. forget about the friendly face of professor merric underneath that hood; think about any of the duma faithful. tatarrah, nuibaba, jedah... all of them are rotten, sinister figures in his memories.

narrowed eyes and clenched jaw need no faking.

"keep the rest of them busy," alm tells the others, sparing a glance over his shoulder before he breaks into a sprint. if he doesn't have a bow, he just needs to close the distance!

[rigellion]

i can tell i'm getting stronger.  ✧  june status: passed!

skill points earned:

1 (monthly), allocated to bow

total skill points: 42  →  43

skill changes:

bow c+ (½)  →  bow b (obtained brave bow!)

other:

classed mastered [june]: apothecary (learned quick salve!)

[mmoneystones]

Citrinne takes another small sip from her cup, the sweetness meant to relieve anxiousness in her following response.

"I will take your word on it, Alm," the removal of a title does come almost naturally to her, given her lack of formalities with her own king. Still, the single consonant comes out a slight bit tense, the noble hoping it does not sound entirely awkward.

She attentively listens to more about this Valentia, and then another land is brought up. Archanea. A second continent whose name rings within Citrinne's mind despite not even knowing its precise whereabouts. Why does she fail to remember...?

It appears that her hesitance has spilled out enough for Alm to take notice. A ball's grace is not enough to cover her deeper ruminations.

"Ah, I don't believe I have," Citrinne gives a shake of her head while holding a puzzled frown. "I have found some of my countrymen present here tonight alone, though our continent is much farther from any other land. I doubt that I have encountered any Valentian, between my time home and recent arrival here. Although..."

These lands, they must have come up during her time warring against the fell dragon. That much was certain, it being a crucial point of her life - and many other Elyosians'. Yet time apart from Emblems seems to have stolen memory along with it. Citrinne would be embarrassed to poke at a potential false lead...but Valentia's king is a generous one, biting at the bait cannot prove that painful.

"...which of your subjects find themselves within Fódlan now? In the case I were to ever meet them."

[rigellion]

the brow furrows slightly in deep thought. if he understands all of this correctly, citrinne definitely knows about valentia from somewhere. but at the same time, she claims she doesn't remember meeting anyone from there. the contradictory nature and overall strangeness of this situation doesn't escape alm.

but it's not exactly fódlan without its weird occurrences, is it? far more unusual things have happened during alm's time here —— from the missions to the elementals hijacking the previous year's festivities. and besides, this place is full of people who come from different lands and cultures.

"there's forsyth— i'm pretty sure he's a knight here, so i imagine you might run into him," he starts listing off names in response to her question. "and python, who currently teaches the golden deer."

now that alm thinks about it, there aren't all that many valentians at the monastery.

"and lastly—she's hardly a subject of mine..." a light chuckle leaves his lips. but at the same time, alm's expression softens. & his gaze briefly drifts down. should anyone follow it, they'd see the ring on his finger. "but rather my wife. her name is celica, and just like me, she's a student here."

[heriteur]

and they were roommates

mission board: showcase / roommate prompt.

[heriteur]

For as spacious as Brodia Castle was, Diamant still found himself often sharing a room with Alcryst as they grew up. Usually because his brother would often sneak into his bed, frightened by nightmares or some such. It was nothing he ever minded—in fact, he was always touched by it, that Diamant was one of the first to come to mind whenever his baby brother sought comfort.

But it's been quite a long time since the days of childhood, and he has much less experience rooming with another as an adult.

Alm seemed to be an agreeable fellow, though. And the young man's own room would be out of commission for the month, so Diamant was more than glad to offer his own space while things got resolved.

Diamant hums as he gives his room an appraising glance. Books were arranged on the shelves neatly, his rock and gem collection sat neatly on the desk. His documents were all tucked away in their respective files and drawers... his weapon collection was accounted for, every sword and axe and lance sitting in their racks...

Acceptable.

Hearing the knock at his door, Diamant goes to open it, smiling as he greets the young man on the other side. Being a Blue Lion student, he was easy to recognize. "Alm! Good to have you. I'm sorry about the situation with your room, but I assure you, I won't invade your space, or do anything to... 'cramp your style', as the kids say."

@dracofalchions

[rigellion]

"er... i'm sure you won't 'cramp' it, professor." alm's own smile is a little awkward in comparison; it even takes him a second longer to respond due to needing a moment to process. cramp his what now? he is pretty sure he hasn't heard anyone else say that one before.

but he doesn't have the heart to point it out to the instructor.

(how old is professor diamant, anyway? not that much older... right?)

he steps past the man.

green eyes take a quick look, noting it's a neat space. definitely more organized than his own... not that his own room is actually messy! sometimes, his shirt isn't neatly hanging from the back of the chair or a single sock is lying on the floor.

in any case, professor diamant does strike him as the type who likes to keep it tidy.

"so... where should i put my things?" he inquires, turning back to professor diamant. one hand pats his bag. "i didn't bring much since they swore they'd get it sorted out by next month."

it's pretty amazing how much stuff a simple bag can contain. some clothes, a couple of books, official documents and letters fit inside it. but where falchion is in its sheath, the regalia bow luna needs to be carried under one arm. both are too important to leave elsewhere.

[mmoneystones]

A king?! Citrinne has found herself clashing with the body of another land's king. Although, she supposes in her position, encountering rulers isn't that extremely out of the ordinary. Moreso when considering her oldest cousin's preparing to be king himself.

Actually...she can almost imagine Diamant and this Alm standing side by side. Ignoring the height difference, they could be good brothers.

"I-If you say so...Sir Alm? Is that alright?" Citrinne does her best to return a fixed smile, quickly adding that second part in retrospect. She knows well that this academy houses nobles of many kinds, though she is unsure if all of them would prefer their proper titles in public.

Citrinne takes time to indulge in another sugary sip, easing the nerves of a questionable first impression. Her eyes move from his swaying glass back to her own when its contents are being discussed.

"Mhm! Or at least, it tastes orange enough to match the name," Citrinne spins her cup idly, admiring how the orange color compliments her own browns. "But you truly think so? I believe the sweetness helps the drink feel less...plain. Not that there's a problem if you prefer such a taste!"

She pauses, trying to find a conversation topic that would lead to less disagreement. Actually, didn't Alm mention...?

"The kingdom you rule over - the One Kingdom? Valentia, is it? I believe I've heard of it before..." Citrinne is wary with her speech, only really recalling a potential hero hailing from there. What was their name again?

"Is this land far from here? The ferry from Brodia turned out to be one of my longer trips. Well, I suppose that's easy to say when it's my only trip beyond Elyos' shores."

[rigellion]

"just alm is fine, really. i'm not exactly here on official business... but i understand if that's too awkward for you." the way she settles on 'sir alm' reminds him of someone else, a memory from another time. actually, he wonders how silque is doing these days. after all, it's already been a couple of years since the war ended.

hmm. at citrinne's comment, alm takes a sip of his own drink and almost makes a face at the taste. it's the sourness of a citrus fruit mixed with a sweeter aftertaste.

"maybe you're right." he sets his glass down on the counter.

"it was... well. it definitely took some time for me to get here." as alm still remembers it, taking a boat to fódlan had been an uneventful journey. there were clear skies, cloudy skies, wind, and rain... and sea as far as the eye could see —— so much sea you could get sick of it!

there had been no pirates to bother the vessel during its voyage, either.

"valentia's closest neighbor is the continent of archanea to the east. it's a far shorter journey, though."

his expression turns a little thoughtful as he regards citrinne with curiosity. "maybe you've met someone else from valentia? i know a few people who are currently here in fódlan."

[rigellion]

ooc: blog updates.

hi hi! with the recent suggestion from the masterlist, my mun pages across all three blogs have been updated with some basic guidelines. they can be easily accessed through each blog's pinned post or navigation links (on lyon's blog: click more, then mun + guidelines link).

you can also read them through these links: alm, seliph, lyon.

[rigellion]

i can tell i'm getting stronger.  ✧  may status: passed!

skill points earned:

1 (thread), bow +1

1 (monthly), allocated to bow

total skill points: 40  →  41  →  42

skill changes:

bow c (½)  →  bow c+  →  bow c+ (½)

other:

event rewards [ethereal ball]: brooch, cry of mountain ash

[rigellion]

decorations tracker.

black feather: alear (f)

white feather: dimitri, kliff

string of pearls: rafal

small bell: rafiel

teardrop crystal: celica

5/5 collected; alm has a string of pearls.

[blaiddllodi]

[ Spaghetti and Meatball ] "hey. you seem a little out of it," alm remarks, coming to a stop near the house leader. it's by pure chance he saw dimitri. but at the same time, it all works out since he's been meaning to say hello.

it's just a little less convenient while he's holding a plate in one hand and a fork in another.

"oh, right. i am alm." he spears the lone meatball sitting atop the spaghetti with his fork, holds it up. the corners of his mouth turn upward. "nice to meat you properly."

alm doesn't know what has happened, and it's not really his place to ask. however, it doesn't mean he can't try to help with a good-natured joke.

"Ah!" Dimitri rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head - the night wore on him more than he was willing to admit, it seemed, between the social aspect, the glad-handing that he was determined to learn - and seemed all the more ill-suited for as the night went on - and...well, everything else. He had not expected it to be hidden, necessarily, but he had wanted not to burden any with the creep of his own dark thoughts.

Especially those under his house. A leader of a kind, Dimitri straightened, determined that, at least for their sake, he would do better.

"Apologies, I...suppose I simply tired. Er...too much dancing." He laughed, an attempt at brightness, at levity to defer some of the weight borne, hoping that it didn't become awkward.

"Alm, yes, well met. I've known your name but not the face - "

He scarce had the opportunity to get the greeting out before Alm grinned at him - pointed, in time with the gesturing of the meatball.

There was a beat, brief but heavy before -

"HAH!" Dimitri's eyes scrunched up, the abrupt seizing onto a moment of pure delight as the pun registered, sank its meaty claws into him. It was a silly comment, even absurd, but it was not the forced levity that Dimitri had attempted only a moment ago - it was a genuine joke, a genuinely light and unabashed moment.

The laughter shook him forward a moment, even so far as to press his palms against his knees, before it subsided, and he chucked at the tears at the corners of his eyes with a knuckle. "Apologies, hah, that was - heh! - that was well needed, thank you, Alm. Hahaha. Here, it isn't much but - "

In his gratitude, Dimitri plucked a feather from his brooch, and extended it for the other young man to take. "It's one of the last you need, correct?"

[rigellion]

wait for it...

there's a noticeable pause as his light-hearted joke sinks in. anticipation thrums behind alm's grin.

...and score!

it can only grow wider at the reception: it's the pure delight on dimitri's face, laughter that shakes the taller student. now that's the reaction he was looking for!

sometimes, making a pun is a gamble of its own. the other person might not care for them. and for all alm knows, they might even dislike puns —— regardless of whether it's actually voiced aloud.

but as it turns out, his house leader isn't one of those people. in fact, dimitri seems to really like the joke. & alm takes the opportunity to enjoy his meatball, swallowing it down in a couple of bites.

"no problem. everyone should be having fun and enjoying themselves, you know?" the fork clinks against the plate. alm sets them down on a nearby table and retrieves something from his pockets.

a nod, "and that's right— thank you! here, you can have some pearls from me."

he trades the pearls for dimitri's feather.

[rigellion]

Many months had passed since their joint gauntlet of survival at Fear Mountain, and yet, time imposed no struggle upon Fell Dragon memory. it would be this one who never forgot either the fine details of that ordeal or the kindly benefactor sprouted from it.

“Alm, so you too are attending the ball.” Greeting occurred by neutral utterance, neither rumble nor growl and therefore host to Rafal's own ilk of friendliness. He nodded at the human king after a sweeping glance. “You appear well.”

Gratitude. Formality. Informality. How difficult it was to express the unseen, or to wield the sensitive tools of humanity, to know when and where to use them - how to use them to begin with. He cleared his throat, extending an offering by way of iridescent pearls in hopes that it would be enough to relay his sincere sentiments.

“Would you like to. . .trade? Regardless of your willingness, I would be most obliged to give you these as thanks. For your rescue all those months ago, that is. Without your aid back then, I imagine I would not be here today.”

"rafal! it's been a while." emerald eyes light up in recognition and familiarity alike. their paths haven't crossed for several months since the mission's conclusion, and thus, alm is pleasantly surprised to see him again. & it's the camaraderie born out of past battles that shapes his expression into a bright grin.

a nod. "and that's right. i wouldn't miss it since i'm here with my wife."

celica must be chatting with her friends right now —— or maybe she's making some new ones. if it wasn't for the sea of other partygoers, he would have tried to catch a glimpse of her.

"huh?"

eyebrows shoot up. not at the offer itself, but...

"that was—" nothing, really, he almost says. it's what anyone else would have done. except... not everyone would be willing to make the same decision —— he realizes that much. & to rafal, what happened seems to mean a great deal. "sure, i would love to trade."

the pearls are exchanged for... well, pearls.

"i wonder how they're going to know these aren't the same ones," he comments aloud. "but i guess we'll find out."