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@rigelprinceofdespair
Prince of Purgatory | Berkut Intro
Black Eagles student Berkut, from Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia. Closed and affiliated with The Officers Academy
Quick Links: Muse / Mun / Stats / Interview / Thread Tracker
Portrayal Notes:
if a prince falls into the water and no one's around to hear it, does he make a sound?
anniversary 2025 / lance +1
AGAIN?!?!?!? UGHHHHHHHH. but how? with what force???? this guy's skinnier than him! NOOOOOO!
shiro's sent plunging into the water once more, all hopes of victory dashed by the familiar darkness that engulfs him before his head breaks through the surface seconds later. he bobs in front of the canoes with a frown and (not so elegantly) spits out the water he's almost swallowed. plegh! blegh! ptooey!
"okay, okay! you win fair and square."
when all's said and done, berkut really is as skilled as he claims to be—there's no discounting the fact. even with their size difference, the guy clearly knows how to seize leverage as the opportunity presents itself.
what helps is that his opponent's a good sport about this. the playful jabs aside, it makes the losses sting a little less, and so shiro finally manages to shake off any lingering disappointment as he hoists himself back into his vessel. "the water favors you. i'll give you that," he says humorously. "but on land, my naginata tells a different story! whaddya say? rematch on the shore? i'll race you there!"
Berkut can't stop the smile from his face, even as Shiro comes back up out of the water again. Not only getting a chance to prove himself, but to win twice in a row. This was well worth his time.
The grin stays on his face, even as he nods his head. "Well, I for one would be more than happy to extend our contest on land. It's rare to find someone to present such an enjoyable challenge."
Berkut does not waste a single second, quickly staring to paddle back to shore. "I'm curious to see how well you do with a naginata in hand! Though I think you'll find my lance just as much a challenge, if not more than this paddle."
The smirk that crosses his face at least is friendly, even as he nods once more to Shiro. "I would hurry up though. After all, wouldn't want to lose the race as well!"
end
The rules of war and why they don't apply to us
aphotic | rescue mission
She laughs, light and meaningless. "Indeed," she says, "I did say that, didn't I?"
See? It really isn't that hard to listen. She has never asked for anything more than what the people around her can provide, and yet they've only disappointed her, time and time again. How utterly laughable, then, that this near-nameless boy, one who owes her nothing and is owed nothing in turn, can so easily do what her once-darling Hounds could not. Just listen. Just obey.
Just stay.
"...Come along, then; let's get this over with."
Zephia takes the lead this time, guiding them both into the cove. She makes no effort to quiet their approach; her shoes strike against the ground in sharp clicks, alerting the two guards on duty. But whether they're aware of the intrusion or not doesn't matter; two spells enacted in rapid succession burst through, electrocuting them where they stand. By the time she and Berkut walk past, they've melded to their clothes, and the window to save them is rapidly closing.
More pirates doubtless await them ahead, but Zephia doesn't look to be in any rush. Instead, as the next pair of sentries sound their cries of alarm, she looks down at Berkut and smiles.
"Shall we rescue our little duckling as proper villains?"
Berkut smirks, nodding even as he follows her inside the cove. A brow is raised at the lack of any subtlety, yet far be it from him to complain. A level of sheer bluntness can be quite effective. Especially when they clearly outclass their foe on every conceivable level.
Not even a glance is spared to the two dying men. The magic was effective, he couldn't help but admire it for that at least. Naturally a professor would have to have some skill to be employed at the monastery, at least one would hope, but seeing it on display was always an intriguing sight on it's own. It also helped that just from how she spoke, he highly doubted she was a member of any faithful.
Hearing the cries of alarm, Berkut meets the professors gaze and does nothing to hold back the cruel smirk that crosses his face. "It would be my pleasure professor." Striding forward to take the point, Berkut holds the javelin in front of him and prepares. Listening to the shouts, there had to be a half dozen or so guards coming to aid the two sentries that had shouted.
It would be easy enough work on his own, let along with the professor and her magic at his back.
A throw impales one man, straight through his gut and leaving him breathless, unable to whine in alarm. Hearing the footsteps, Berkut draws one of his daggers and approaches the other sentry. A clumsy axe blow swings his way, and Berkut brings up one hand, catching it before plunging his dagger straight into the mans eye and yanking it out.
"If the duckling is even still alive at least." Still hearing the footsteps coming, Berkut can't help but smirk as he gets ready.
June Wanted Plots
Going to be taking it nice and easy as I deal with Berkut's backlog of a few threads, but did want to get this out!
[Any Skill +1] Oh it's time. Alright who wants to meet Fallen Berkut! A desperate, dangerous Berkut and his fiance! What could possibly go wrong with this! (I would be down to take this more than once!)
Secret Shop. Fake relationship for funsies!
Needs Unaffiliated
Poison Prompt. Let's be honest, Berkut deserves to get poisoned every once in a while!
“This flower's for you. I thought you might be in this competition,” Leif comes up to Berkut after the man is eliminated from the White Heron Cup, a lily in his hand to offer the man for his efforts. “But I wasn't sure. You said you had a partner who loved to dance...”
But that he himself had no particular care for it. That Berkut went up alone in an event flooded with duos feels like both a testament to it and a statement against it. The story he'd thought he wouldn't pry into when it was first told to him is one he digs up at last.
“... was your participation an homage in their honor??”
Seeing Leif, Berkut blinked a bit in surprise as the lily was suddenly presented to him. Looking up, he smirked as he took it, giving Leif a grateful nod. "Ah my thanks..." Almost absent-minded, he reached to his own bouquet and offered the other man one of the roses.
Why had he entered in this? Perhaps Leif had been able to glimpse a reason that even he had tried to smother. Entering this contest had been a test of futility. Even bothering to do it, without a partner, yet still insisting on doing that dance. Letting out a sigh, the smirk on his face fades. A far more bitter look in his eyes.
"I suppose you could say that. A foolish notion on my part. If anything losing in this first round has just shown that I've simply wasted my time." It's not like dancing in her name, even if he had won would have done anything. Perhaps it was selfish to even make the attempt.
"Apologies. I'm afraid I may not be the best of company in this moment. Enjoy the rest of your evening." The tone was empty, even as Berkut gave a small wave of dismissal as he turned and started walking away.
folie à deux.
Ethereal Ball 2026 // continued from here
He laughs and she hums. It is akin to understanding. Life shouldn't be lived just to accrue as many debts as grudges, fermenting and holding onto resentment. Sara didn't assign unnecessary meaning to actions or keep them in memory long, but he speaks of the past while facing forward and that, too, she understands.
The smirk returns to his face, making him look younger, for a moment. Her own expression softens. Ease finds her shoulders and she hums more.
"Oh?" That he has moved past his defeat and is forming plans for the future is a good sign. Sara can think of at least one girl that would no doubt delight in the chance to be his partner, but getting involved would only bring a new headache. These affairs have nothing to do with her, anyway.
"I wouldn't say trust is a requirement for dancing myself even if all the finalists were pairs." Berkut being stingy about who to give his trust doesn't come as a great surprise though. "Maybe you possess too high standards. You have been here for a while now, so you must have met at least a couple of worthy people. It sounds, to me, the problem could be you."
The sheer audacity of her statement, delivered point blank and to his face took him utterly off guard. For a moment a dozen emotions flashed through him. Anger, despair, rage, humiliation, more and more. Yet in the end, he surprised himself as he let out a laugh. One that actually built up, before he brought a hand up to smother it.
"Well. Far be it from me to argue with such a point blank assessment of my character. The standards I have are no doubt to high for most to manage." The fact that would be because his 'standards' are less to do with what he wants, and more about what he can never get back, go unmentioned.
Taking a moment, he thinks about those he had met. If he would trust them to be his partner in such a dance. Yet each time, no matter the occasion, there is only one person he wants in his arms. One he is unworthy of.
One he can never get back.
Letting out a sigh, he gives Sara a small shrug. "A thought for another time. The competition is over now, too late to get a partner. The evening as well is winding down." Finishing off the glass, he nods to Sara. "I think I'll go and relax. I'll bid you good evening Sara."
folie à deux.
Ethereal Ball 2026 // continued from here
She watches him through the transparent reflection in glass, the arrogant grin he so often wore temporarily missing as Berkut mulled over his loss in a rare show of vulnerability that Sara doesn't remark on. It's his choice to take away what he will from this experience, whether he uses it as motivation to do better in the future or be weighed down by his previous failures, but she doesn't believe he should concern himself with the opinion of the judges regardless.
Her brow quirks in inquiry when he raises another matter altogether, "I wasn't aware you were carrying a grudge this long. Didn't I apologize already?" Sara won't do it a second time even if Tina begs her now.
"As for my night, I found it nostalgic in truth. There was a year I participated in the White Heron Cup with a cheerful flame. We flooded the stage in magic and spun in dizzying circles until he ended up sick to his stomach, ahaha. I still remember the flush of his face during the first round."
@rigelprinceofdespair
Berkut can't help the small laugh that escapes him, even as he shakes his head. "A jest, that's all. I wouldn't hold a grudge for such a thing like that." Not when there are true insults that were so much more worthy of his time.
"You participated? Using magic as well, must have been quite the sight." A smirk crosses his face as she perfectly paints the picture of her partner getting sick. "I suppose the result could have been worse for me. Makes me glad that I chose to do this by myself."
Sipping on the water, he thinks for a moment. "You know, speaking of partners, I've been told to try to have a partner for next year. What nonsense. While perhaps my score might have been better with another by my side, I doubt I could find anyone I trust enough for such a thing." Or anyone that would trust him.
[ COFFEE ] - More specifically, a mocha brewed with Almyran coffee beans and Dagdan chocolate and served with hot milk. A sweeter variation of the drink taking Fódlan by storm.
She could just not say anything. There are plenty of times when she's said she'd do something and then she just doesn't. Usually it's because she forgets or gets distracted but she does also do it when she just doesn't want to. But she doesn't think Sara is the type of person who would simply let it slide.
After a big, deep, breath, Tina grabs a hot cup of whatever this is that smells delicious nearby and approaches Berkut.
"I watched you dance or whatever," she tries to sound like she wasn't completely enthralled by it. "It was, well it was nice to really get to see it without having to like worry that that grandma was gonna kill us or something."
"Ah, thank you Tina." Now this was a welcome drink. Taking the coffee, Berkut lets the warmth of it try to combat the strange cold he had been feeling since he had lost the dance. It... somewhat helped at the very least.
A smirk appeared on his face, and he gave a small nod at her words. Though it faded at the reminder of those events. Glancing around in the darkness for a moment, he held back a flinch at the memories that were suddenly forced upon him. "Yes, well... I'd have hoped our dance earlier was a better demonstration. Though I suppose it doesn't matter. I did lose after all."
The smile that followed is far more strained, even as he glances at her. "Still, I appreciate the words. What about you? Have you been enjoying your first ball? Must be quite an experience."
[ WATER ] - Hours later, Sara finds herself approaching the one person she told Tina that she wouldn’t, not because she intends to divulge her friend's secrets or betray her trust, just merely to talk person to person. She won’t pretend to know Berkut all too well, but she still found herself surprised by him tonight after watching the White Heron Cup beside Leif.
It’s a gift not just for a captivating performance but an emotion she thought flit across his face, something nostalgic as though he belonged to the dancefloor once upon a time. When they met again in Abyss, questions of the past never entered their conversation, so Sara doesn’t seek an explanation now either, merely extends a pristine glass of clear water for him to take.
“I liked your dance. You looked as if you enjoyed yourself, too."
Well, he must be hiding his disappointment and fury rather well. Still, at least it was someone he knew, and more importantly could tolerate the presence of, that had approached him. Taking the water, he gave a grateful nod before taking a few gulps of it.
"Well, thank you. Though it was obviously not my best. considering I got out in the first round." Letting out a sigh, he looks Sara up and down for a moment. "It was somewhat enjoyable, though I lost myself in memories of... better times for a moment."
Entering the contest had been a mistake. That was clear to him now. So much of it just hurt his head, whispers of someone long gone trying to drown out all other thoughts. "Still, how has your evening been? I for one am grateful there was no storm..." A slight smirk crossing his face. "If only it means I will not have to deal with a parasol flinging water at me."
A Dance of Envy.
At the end of it all, two people move onward and one is left behind. It's unfair, one could say, that in order for someone to succeed, someone else has to fail. There wouldn't be much point in a competition if nothing was being judged, but it still fills him with a complicated feeling to watch groups of people disappear back into the crowds, away from the almost blinding spotlight.
What a bittersweet thing, victory.
"Thank you." Kindness should be repaid in turn, so Kurt bows back. "Although I am lacking in many ways, it's thanks to my fiancée's support that I've made it this far."
Not just here on the dance floor, but throughout his whole life. He doubts he would have even been able to make it to Fódlan without Holtz opening their doors to him. Berkut is entirely correct. Kurt is lucky to have Rose by his side.
"I hope you'll compete against us again next year with a partner by your side, Berkut. Although I do hope my own footwork will have improved by then or you may surely best us next time..."
At first it seemed like this would end amicably, if a bit disappointing for himself. However as Kurt spoke, the last things he said. Any trace of a smile was wiped off his face. Eyes hardening, a scowl formed, even as he glared at the other man.
"Unlikely. I may simple avoid the competition entirely." Scoffing, he though about leaving, though his anger was still rising. Attend with a partner. As if anyone could replace-
"I don't think I could trust having a partner by my side. You should consider yourself lucky." There was no one, none who he could even imagine being by his side. It would be an insult, especially after what he had done. For a moment he swore he could feel fire, wrapped around him in a burning, deadly embrace.
A sneer crossed his face, and he turned around, already starting to leave. However he looked back, one last look towards the couple. So loving, so trusting in one another. "After all, you two hopefully won't know what it means to utterly lose your partner to betrayal. To weakness and desperation that forces you apart. Hopefully for both your sakes."
Even as he left, the sensations still danced across his skin. A just punishment for his own weakness.
rigelprinceofdespair asked: [ SEQUESTER ] - Some rooms remain unused, and while by the padlocks on their doors you suspect they are meant to remain that way, some poor sap seems to have forgotten to make sure they were locked properly. They make for an excellent space away from the chaos of the rest of the ball—though you may not be the first one there. Berkut still couldn't believe his outfit had got spilled on. Barely managing to find a spare room to begin trying to dry himself off, he lets out another muttered curse. At least he could still manage to get it dry in time for the White Heron cup. Once he finishes drying off he lets out a sigh. Taking a moment to close his eyes and lean against the wall. Thoughts still going through the events of the ball so far, the various pleasant and unpleasant encounters. Yet there is still one that can't quite leave his mind. Of familiar red eyes, and how he had ran like a craven from them. "How by every damned God that exists am I suppose to even begin to speak with her?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she'd caught sight of some sort of-- disagreement? Accident? Nel hadn't been close enough to make out any of the details, but Berkut's retreat had been swift enough. She didn't recognize the woman who had bumped into him, and perhaps she'd circle around to ensure that everything was alright; priorities are priorities, however, and the professor heaves a big sigh before stepping into the shadows in pursuit. He's not far, thankfully. Part of her debates on simply observing from a distance, confirming with her own yes, and then leaving. Another part says the opposite- to step up and to make herself known. Berkut's voice surprises her, and it takes a moment for Nel to realize that he's not speaking to anyone in particular. It's then that she steels herself, squares her shoulders, and steps into a brighter part of the hallway that the pitch black doesn't cover. She'd had the sense of mind to bring a towel, crimson eyes flickering down to the stain on his sleeve. "... Berkut. Is everything alright? I-- thought you may need one of these." Were her to turn and stomp away, she wouldn't chase. She wouldn't blame him-- to humans, she supposes a fell dragon is only safe when quartered and chained; something that Nel is not and never will be. @rigelprinceofdespair
That voice makes him freeze for a moment. Was this really happening now? Eyes closing for a brief moment he lets out a sigh, before meeting the gaze of his professor. An empty, bitter smile forms on his face, even as he gives a quick nod.
"Thank you professor." The words are devoid of emotion, a hollowness to them that he just can't seem to fight off for the moment. Still he takes the towel, and does his best to dry off his sleeve. For a moment he clenches it, wondering if he should just leave.
Yet he was already a weakling once tonight.
Instead he raises his gaze, meeting those crimson eyes before giving her that same bitter smile. "I must commend you. Twice tonight you have now aided me. Despite what happened..."
The laugh that escapes is bitter. "Surely at some point you must realize such things aren't worth the effort? I must say, compared to last time a dragon influenced me, you have a much different way of going about it."
Unable to look at her, Berkut turns away. "As weak as I am, I would rather not sell me soul once more." Despite the words, he can't help but wince. "...Apologies. I know you wouldn't do such a thing."
The huff that comes from her nose is half amusement and half faux-offense as she lingers in the general vicinity, arms crossed over her chest. "Perhaps it will disappoint you, but I do not deal in the matter of souls. Should you be concerned, rest assured: any others of my kind are long since gone... with the exception of my brother." She remembers the story she'd given to him long ago, and briefly, she wonders if the parallels will suddenly strike a chord with him. "My aid is not conditional. Nor will it ever be." He speaks of 'weakness', but few humans have the bravery to stand up in the face of a dragon-- much less one of her nature. Perhaps that's something she's always admired in him, his unflinching self in even the most perilous of circumstances. Something admirable as much as it is dangerous. "You need not speak poorly of yourself over tonight's events. It is the least I can do; you deserve a peaceful evening. There is no weakness to be had in indulging." @rigelprinceofdespair
Despite himself, Berkut nearly laughs at her words. For a moment it was almost as if nothing had changed, as if they were speaking as they had before. Yet even now there is a part of him on edge. Though truly, it may not have anything to do with the professor at all.
Just his own nightmares catching up to him, reminding him of his weakness.
"I know many who may disagree with you about what I deserve. In fact I think I danced with one or two of them tonight." Now the smirk returns, only a bit more subdued. Still he moves from the wall, and lets out a sigh.
"Professor. Not tonight, but some time soon... I would like to have a more honest conversation with you. About not only what happened before, but also an explanation on my part. I have told you some, but not everything. Explain myself, at the very least."
Part of him couldn't believe he was even offering this. Yet at the same time, perhaps it would be good. After all, at least revealing the truth would give them both a reason to never interact. Though the idea of Nel looking at him with the same disdain as any Deliverance member was painful...
Shaking his head he offered a hand. "Does that sound good to you?"
A Dance of Envy.
It is a competition, of course, as evidenced by their opponent and his lonely dance, but from the moment Rose takes hold of Kurt's hand, the world might as well be only the two of them. If their competitor dances a lonely dance, then the two of them dance as childhood friends turned lovers. Their hold on each other is easy, comfortable and their steps speak to a lifetime spent learning each other's pace.
A misstep here, a fumbled step there—if Gotthold were here, he would have had some words for Kurt about neglecting his training. His footwork is sloppy, unbefitting of a prince or a soldier. It is a sign that he needs to dedicate himself further to building up strength. His steps are still unsteady and unsure; his goal remains as far away as ever.
He's still not ready yet. Another misstep.
Were he not a prince on the run, this kind of thing would be drilled into his head. For Ast's only heir to be performing like this and letting his fiancée lead the dance... the complaints would be endless.
But in front of Rose's bright smile, those thoughts fade into background noise.
One could hardly call it a good showing, but as long as Rose is still smiling, he will continue to chase after her practiced steps. Even if the hair he had pinned back comes loose and gets in his eyes, he can trust that Rose will always be there ready to accept him, just as she has since they were children.
He may not be the perfect prince (his measly score of 11 to her 29 is testament enough to that), but with his hand in hers for the final bow, it is clear why her support had become so important to his heart.
"Rose," Kurt says sheepishly as he catches his breath. "It seems I am the one worrying you again..."
@rigelprinceofdespair
Berkut stared out, waiting for the final scores to be calculated. Still it seemed obvious. Fists clenching, nails digging into his palms as his loss was announced. Has he accomplished anything of note in his time here? Failure after failure after failure.
What must he do to actually beat someone?
Still he forces himself to maintain some level of composure. At least as long as he is in the public eye. Especially without the protection of a more... secluded house, it would do well to at least try and keep up some appearances.
So as the two winners leave the stage to make way for the next performance, he makes sure to have a smirk on his face instead of a sneer. Giving them a slight nod of respect.
"I must congratulate you on the dance. It was quite the sight to behold." Trying as best he can to keep his own tone neutral, at the very least. "Kurt right? Good to see you once more. You are very lucky to have such a gifted partner by your side."
@lovelyflight @lobeiro
A Dance of Envy.
Taking in a deep breath, Berkut stepped out for the competition. Surprisingly, the competitors were two people he was both familiar with. One from an assignment, and another he had danced with during this very ball. However, that was not important.
Eyes skipped over the more standout features. Wings, ears, none of that mattered. Instead it was the way the pair held each other. Standing so close, intertwined with one another. For a moment he heard a different kind of music. A voice calling out his name.
"Lord Berkut?"
Normally he would banish such thoughts. Instead, this time he let them inspire him. Gracefully, he began dancing. Arms were positioned as if he had a partner of his own. Moving carefully, the familiar steps of a dance he hadn't done since the days before everything went so wrong.
Yet still the memories lingered in his mind. Despite his training, they interfered with him. A small wailing through off his choreography, a smell of smoke causing his technique to falter. Yet the style, the pure expression of a lost love no longer in his arms was utterly flawless.
As he finished, he moved back. Knowing it wasn't perfect, even as the judges scored. 18 points, that was all his efforts had earned. Not even close to what would have been satisfactory, yet in that moment, lost in memory... he couldn't bring himself to care.
@lovelyflight @lobeiro
rigelprinceofdespair asked: [ SEQUESTER ] - Some rooms remain unused, and while by the padlocks on their doors you suspect they are meant to remain that way, some poor sap seems to have forgotten to make sure they were locked properly. They make for an excellent space away from the chaos of the rest of the ball—though you may not be the first one there. Berkut still couldn't believe his outfit had got spilled on. Barely managing to find a spare room to begin trying to dry himself off, he lets out another muttered curse. At least he could still manage to get it dry in time for the White Heron cup. Once he finishes drying off he lets out a sigh. Taking a moment to close his eyes and lean against the wall. Thoughts still going through the events of the ball so far, the various pleasant and unpleasant encounters. Yet there is still one that can't quite leave his mind. Of familiar red eyes, and how he had ran like a craven from them. "How by every damned God that exists am I suppose to even begin to speak with her?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she'd caught sight of some sort of-- disagreement? Accident? Nel hadn't been close enough to make out any of the details, but Berkut's retreat had been swift enough. She didn't recognize the woman who had bumped into him, and perhaps she'd circle around to ensure that everything was alright; priorities are priorities, however, and the professor heaves a big sigh before stepping into the shadows in pursuit. He's not far, thankfully. Part of her debates on simply observing from a distance, confirming with her own yes, and then leaving. Another part says the opposite- to step up and to make herself known. Berkut's voice surprises her, and it takes a moment for Nel to realize that he's not speaking to anyone in particular. It's then that she steels herself, squares her shoulders, and steps into a brighter part of the hallway that the pitch black doesn't cover. She'd had the sense of mind to bring a towel, crimson eyes flickering down to the stain on his sleeve. "... Berkut. Is everything alright? I-- thought you may need one of these." Were her to turn and stomp away, she wouldn't chase. She wouldn't blame him-- to humans, she supposes a fell dragon is only safe when quartered and chained; something that Nel is not and never will be. @rigelprinceofdespair
That voice makes him freeze for a moment. Was this really happening now? Eyes closing for a brief moment he lets out a sigh, before meeting the gaze of his professor. An empty, bitter smile forms on his face, even as he gives a quick nod.
"Thank you professor." The words are devoid of emotion, a hollowness to them that he just can't seem to fight off for the moment. Still he takes the towel, and does his best to dry off his sleeve. For a moment he clenches it, wondering if he should just leave.
Yet he was already a weakling once tonight.
Instead he raises his gaze, meeting those crimson eyes before giving her that same bitter smile. "I must commend you. Twice tonight you have now aided me. Despite what happened..."
The laugh that escapes is bitter. "Surely at some point you must realize such things aren't worth the effort? I must say, compared to last time a dragon influenced me, you have a much different way of going about it."
Unable to look at her, Berkut turns away. "As weak as I am, I would rather not sell me soul once more." Despite the words, he can't help but wince. "...Apologies. I know you wouldn't do such a thing."
[ spill ] @milafaithful
dead men tell no tales, the daughters of Mila always say, and the words are a comfort to those who dole out death nearly as often as they do life. so when silque brushes past the shadow of the late Rigelian heir, she startles so badly---as to upend the entirety of her glass down the side of his sleeve.
"---lord berkut!?" what is she to do? she does not fear him, but surely he expects her to cower under his gaze. "ah, I'm so sorry, I---" she tries, scrambling into a hasty bow.
So far the Ball had proceeded without a problem. A few enjoyable dances, the food was of good quality, and no raging storm to tear everything apart.
Naturally of course the night had to get ruined somewhere.
Feeling is now wet sleeve, he lets out a scoff at the pathetic apology. Glancing down at the woman, he sneers at her words. At least she knew who he was. Briefly he thought he recognized her... but from where? Not from the Black Eagles, or anywhere in the Abyss.
"Save your apologies. Unbelievable, luckily it doesn't seem to have stained." Thinking for a moment, he recalls the lessons he had been taking. Calling upon the magic, he begins to lights up his free hand, a brief glimpse of dark flames coating his fingers as he begins trying to dry it. Barely paying the woman any mind.
"Whoever you are, either fetch a towel or begone. Don't stand around uselessly gawking or apologizing."
[ MINT CANDY ] - For when your breath isn’t as fresh as newly-fallen snow. Because those soft butter mints aren't available all year round! Comes in a variety of flavors.
"The red ones are cinnamon it seems."
Berkut was a bit surprised to have the candy suddenly thrust in his face, but he still took it, giving a quick bow of respect to the woman that had appeared beside him.
"Ah, Camilla, good to see you again." Giving a quick glance around, he couldn't stop the small smirk on his face. "I take it they didn't let Barbie into the venue? Unleash I am failing to spot her..."
Still he pops one of the red ones in his mouth, delighting in the taste of it. "Just the pick me up I needed before this White Heron Cup. Thank you."
[ CRIMEA ] - A traditional dance that requires quite a bit of athleticism to pull off. In addition to keeping up with fast-paced music, the dancers must perform a variety of leaps and flips.
Ike held out his hand. "Think you can handle a dance from my home?" Maybe Ike just wanted to trounce the guy, just once. @radiantpaths
Now this he had not expected. Remembering Ike, Berkut raised an eyebrow yet took the hand regardless. "It has been a while since we last crossed paths I believe. What, when you were shouting at me over that sword during the arena?"
The smirk was easy on his face, even as he matched the fast-paced music as it started to pick up. "I didn't realize this music was from your homeland. Quite the energetic piece. Though I wonder how well you can keep up with it?"
As they turn, Berkut uses the momentum to perform one of the leaps, landing on his feet and quickly taking a hand to resume the dance. "While I admit you play the role of intimidating soldier rather well, this looks like it requires being a bit more... agile after all. If you can impress me, perhaps I'll even offer you one of these roses after we're done. If you can of course."
