vengewise

Ronan | Thracia 776 Church of Seiros aff. TOA Penned by Ree

[cervanke]

⠀⬩⠀gannets never go blind

infamous⠀/⠀sword

[cervanke]

FOOTSTEPS IN THE EMPTY HALL ECHO IN THUDS, COMING CLOSER.　𐂂　she turns dazedly as ronan comes close. her partner since the start, he was the only one left who'd tried to look out for her ; a guilty expression greets him first before she's decided what to do about all this. he shouldn't have gotten himself caught up, defending her. . . when he talks, it's like he doesn't even think to question her, saying things about the nobles she doesn't disagree with, but hadn't realized he thought too. over the last few days of guarding this viscount together, they hadn't really talked much about how they felt about everything. and as for not even batting an eye at her arrest. . . she'd learned a long time ago that people never suspected someone like her——but it really is a shame.

even so, the thought to come clean and tell him the truth never crosses her mind. she had a story she was sticking with, and there were already enough secrets she'd carried ; what was one more?

". . . thanks, ronan. hearing that you trust me like that means a lot." guilt gradually morphs away into a guileless smile, tired but relieved and maybe daring to hope a little bit. "i guess i can't blame anyone else here for not. nobles or not, they don't know us. and strangers are always the easiest to doubt."

besides, no one else had that kind of access to the viscount. paranoid as he was, he'd practically put himself on house arrest, refusing visitors and shutting himself away in a room just when his own servants were at work. but that was probably better for them ; she'd seen the way he treated them when he did see them, sneering at them, blaming every small mistake on some personal shortcoming, as if they'd already been found guilty of his murder or some worse crime. now that he was gone, she doesn't know what would happen to them, but she hopes they'd all gone somewhere else.

maybe it's selfish. but she's glad to hear that it's an ' us ' when she'd gone into this figuring it'd be ' i '. she didn't want to get caught, and. . . he didn't want her to get in trouble either. they could work with that.

and, actually, sounds like they weren't the only ones who'd had a clear shot at the viscount after all: "well, it sounds like there's someone else involved in this too. that's what he said, right? and i——we——have to mount a case against them. . ." whoever ' he ' was. she looks at ronan again, brows furrowed. "do you know who that guy even was? it looked like he was very important. everyone went quiet as soon as he started talking."

[seawardoath]

Ronan shrugs. Her guess is as good as his. All he can do is echo her observation about importance, but then suddenly he remembers something. His eyes widen with the epiphany, his body going rigid like he'd been quite literally struck by the idea.

"Actually, I think I remember one of the staff calling him the Viscount's advisor. That means he's probably in control of the estate for the time being, right? No wonder he had the power to give you this deal."

If Ronan really reaches back into his memories from the last couple of days playing guard duty, he thinks he remembers seeing the old man's face once in passing. Ronan had gotten lost on his way back to his temporary quarters, and had glimpsed him down the hall way talking to another person who Ronan could only see the shadow of in the doorway. Two of the maids rushed past him muttering about "Lord Advisor." But maybe it had been a different man. That moment had been important for the fact that he'd gotten lost rather than for who he'd seen, so he could just be replacing all the fuzzy details with the fear struck in him by the severity of that old man's face.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Ronan peers around at the hall and its massive columns around the periphery, half-expecting to see shadows darting back behind cover. They're well and truly alone though after the initial spectacle. The old man - advisor or not - was unconcerned about letting an alleged murderer roam about. Two, even.

"... No one seems to care about you anymore, thanks to him," he murmurs to Ananke. It comes out worse than he meant it to, and he glances apologetically at her. "I mean, there still has to be people who think you killed the Viscount. But they all just... left."

[frigidsurge]

Commiting arson in the kitchen like the best of them.

[frigidsurge]

She doesn't really have the energy to cry.

Objectively speaking, it doesn't even warrant tears, does it?

It's frustrating, yes, to have something she took time and effort into making fall apart like this, but this is just a piece of it, isn't it?

"Its not really for friends exactly

But well, it was supposed to be a welcoming gift for the new students. So I wouldn't have minded if it helped me become acquainted with them."

It all seems kind of pointless now, just like encouraging Ronan to learn magic will likely just make him associate it with that crazy girl that couldn't mind her own business.

How exhausting.

"Please don't say that the blame is all on me. I mean, there must have been some more secure ways to go about this."

The whole dessert is too big for her, but she scrapes off the burnt edges. It's much uglier now, and she can't really eat it all.

It's sugary and vain in its own existence, mocking in its excess.

She spent too long with this kind of luxury tantalizingly close yet out of her reach.

"Thank you for indulging me. I don't know how to repay you for it, but know I am grateful."

She takes a spoonful of the dessert, something she worked for where the work was meant to be the reward.

It's sweet and sour, melting in her mouth.

It's unbearably dull despite its novelty.

[seawardoath]

Ronan shrugs. "Well, I don't really feel that great about accepting thanks for this. I just helped out because you asked."

Rubbing the back of his neck, he glances over his shoulder at where he'd left his broom leaning against the doorway to the kitchen. The rest of the dining hall was still half-cleaned, but at least sweeping was more comfortable and predictable than lighting ovens with magic. He starts out the door to grab the shaft of the broom, then stops and turns back to Tine to wave away the idea of repayment.

"So don't worry about repaying me. Enjoy your--" his eyes drop down the charred pastry that she's insisting on taking spoonfuls out of anyway. Maybe in this instance, he wouldn't have blamed her for throwing the whole thing in the trash. He only hopes she's not eating it now because she's afraid of looking like a spoiled noble in front of him.

"-- dessert, I guess." With a wave, he turns again to head back out into the dining hall. "I'll be out here if you need me for anything else, but it'd probably be better if I stay away from your baking."

[End]

[wolfhednn]

𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗘𝗙.

mission. APHOTIC⠀∶⠀riding.

[wolfhednn]

FOLLOWING RONAN'S LINE OF SIGHT ,⠀🗲⠀his eyes too search the canopy of spindly evergreen trees, weighing the effectiveness of his proposition. camp in the trees. it was a tactic usually reserved for desperate soldiers and travelers, lost in the wilderness of a distant land, perhaps beyond enemy lines, and his knowledge of it was similarly limited to times of warfare, when it'd been employed, along with makeshift camouflage from mud and leaves, to evade detection by the enemy.

he hadn't thought of it in this case, but he supposed that an alleged demon cat was no less formidable an enemy.

before he can think further on the idea, the next sudden question interrupts the ill-settled quiet of the wood. as ronan mutters, half to himself, felix adjusts the weight of the pack on his shoulders and returns to scanning their ground-level surroundings. the comment about the nobles earns a nigh-undetectable huff, but no further ackowledgement for now. "i'm not. certain that it isn't a crest beast, that is. but i've never heard of a cat-like one, so if it is, then that's something else that'll be worth reporting."

not to mention more manageable than some intangible ghost story.

"but i doubt it. crest beasts aren't common, but they're not worth panicking over either. the way everyone's been talking about this rumor, it couldn't be something so ordinary. or if it is. . . then that means someone's profiting from it. the question is: who."

perhaps he's said too much. after all, these are just wild guesses in the end. so he looks to ronan instead, now intrigued by the observations he's made on the others in their caravan and his apparently active imagination ; evidently, these rumors bothered him, too. "you sound concerned." whether he meant to or not. the remark comes out like an accusation, whether felix means it to or not. "what do you think it is."

[seawardoath]

"Why wouldn't I be?" The accusation inserts a stutter into Ronan's step, and he falls slightly behind Felix when he turns to look at him in the face. "There's something scaring these merchants. Whether it's a big cat or a regular crest beast, letting your guard down is a good way to wind up in trouble."

But really it's not the ghost stories that bother Ronan. Big game, he can handle. A crest beast couldn't be too different from a bear if Felix said it wasn't worth panicking about. Surviving encounters with beasts in the forest wasn't hard if you were smart about it, but one might say that Ronan was a little too confident on that front. He pulls his bow higher up his shoulder as if the touch of it could protect him from any creature they ran into out here.

Nobles were a different kind of beast though. Ronan lowers his head and falls silent for a few steps, with just the crunch of leaves and gravel underfoot filling the space for conversation. He looks like he's thinking hard about the truth of the beast's form, but in his mind, he's going over the things Felix has said so far to gauge how forthright he should be with his thoughts. He was the son of a noble house, after all.

"Well, I think you might be on the right track about someone profiting from these rumors..." he finally answers. He kicks another rock out of the way and then releases his bow long enough to use his hands to hike up a short but rocky rise in the terrain. From here, the trail grows steeper as they round their way up toward the hilltop.

"Don't you think it's strange that it's just the merchants who are scared of this cat? I hadn't heard any of the stories before we left the monastery, and the Knights didn't warn us either. But... I haven't been here very long." He throws a glance toward Felix. "There was a rumor like this in my homeland once though, but eventually it came to light that the lord of the land had been taking advantage of it to drive down the price of artisan goods so he could redecorate his village with halls and halls of statues of himself."

Maybe that last part wasn't true, since he'd heard it from the bards that sometimes came in with the merchant ships that docked in Iz. Maybe most of it wasn't true, actually, but Ronan believed it. He'd seen enough greed that he could.

[frigidsurge]

Commiting arson in the kitchen like the best of them.

[frigidsurge]

"Deified or not, she was still a human, and every human has to start somewhere. She might have had predispositions towards magic, but I can tell you that at the core of her might was the kind of work we all can put in. Well, that's without the mention of Mjolnir."

Its still praise but she cannot sand the edges down if she wants to be at all taken seriously.

Amd even then that damned tome didn't mean nearly as much as people deluded themselves it did.

You can kill a man with a baisc fire tome

And Ishtar could die by one just the same as Tine and Ronan.

Her beloved cousin was an impressive woman not a god.

"Magic Arrows? That's not a Jugdrali spell, I believe. Hmm, what was the name Saggitagne ? I hadn't tried those, and archery is out of my skill set, generally speaking."

She could not have expected such a strong reaction for what in her own eyes was just an idle suggestion did he think she was going to stab herself.

... she hasn't been acting most stable during this conversation has she?

"Im so sorry

I didn't mean it like that i mean it seemed a lot more reasonable in my head."

She does shrink back a little managing to look apolegentic without being frantic.

How is she supposed to apologise does she even have a real apology?

"I bielieve i already made my point about how valuable a varied skill set is but i understand if you do not asign the same weight to it.

It wasn't my intention to alarm you or make you feel cornered but i do understand that what i had in mind was quite over-"

While fiddling around and babling in a vauge explanation of her intentions she notices the warm glow illuminating her sillouete brighten.

Oh no

The fire was too strong making the desert melt over the flame igniting it even further.

One of the blessings of her outstanding aim if that she can extinguish the flame without damaging it further with the wind spell.

Still, that didn't mean much, as one side is already burned.

.

.

"I mean, I have a few friends who'd still like it, but do you enjoy slightly burned sweets?."

[seawardoath]

The fire is snuffed out before Ronan even has the chance to realize what was happening in the hearth, too preoccupied with making sure that Tine wouldn't hurt herself. He drops all of his concerns and spins around on his heel to catch the final wisps of her spell and the sputtering embers of the oven, and then the moment settles into a beat of uneasy quiet. Ronan hadn't even seen when she'd put the dessert into the oven to begin with, but that's an afterthought as he lunges for a pair of mitts to pull the thing out before it can drip more oil or grease or whatever it was that had caused the fire to flare in the first place.

Steaming, charred, and still very hot to the touch, the dessert tumbles out gracelessly and Ronan deposits it quickly back onto the counter, recoiling and shaking the heat from his hands despite the mitts. He examines it for a moment; it's lopsided and dark on one side, and hardly looks edible, even though ordinarily he'd certainly had his fair share of burnt food before simply because his family couldn't afford to throw mistakes away.

"Uh, well, I don't have much of a sweet tooth, but I could take it off your hands if you really want." Slipping the mitts off, Ronan rubs the back of his neck helplessly.

"Your friends don't deserve a burnt dessert though. That's who you were making this for, right? I can get you some more ingredients, but it was probably a bad idea to ask me to help with the baking." He'd been the one to start the fire, so he couldn't help but feel partially responsible for the ensuing destruction. "Sorry about that."

[seawardoath]

The Meaning of Home

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

[diadic]

    Together again with Ronan and Maria, the jitters that had overcome Leif at the scent of the sea has abated to allow him to slow, to indeed be mindful again, but his heart doesn't quite reach that same pace. Whilst Iz shares the same coast as Fiana, there's a newness to seeing this particular location— one that makes Leif look high and low, taking it all in and mentally comparing it to where the Freeblades have taken him before. It's Ronan's guidance through the tidepools, silently exercising caution with each step, that prevents the prince from moving too wildly to satiate his curiosity however.

He keeps at the back of the pack now, letting Maria walk between the two of them as Leif minds his own feet too.

“I'm happy enough to be here at all, so...” Every now and then, he glances upwards at the other two in front of him, keeping check of the distance between him and them. “...catching something not edible is fine with me. It'll be your first time fishing, won't it, Maria?”

He's not sure whether or not his assumption here is actually right, but even without the use of her royal title in address, when Leif looks at her, he finds it difficult to imagine her roughing it outside. He imagines instead a delicate hand— one that turned pages rather than hunted, learning through written word over practical experience.

He decides then and there, in his own mind, that she's a Patricia more than a Tanya or Mareeta.

“But if you've got tricks for telling which ones are good, I'd like to hear that too, Ronan,” he leaves the floor open to trying that purposeful search. “If we find something we can eat, let's bring it back and eat it together. That'll be even more worthwhile, won't it?”

NEXT: @princessmacedon or @seawardoath !!

[princessmacedon]

Like a chain of daisies, Maria places her trust in Ronan's trust; when she turns her eyes toward the weathered steps, it is not in trepidation, but a blinking curiosity. The wear of color that revealed paths of habit, and how it paled in a different manner to that which was bleached by the sun -- this is neither a separate nor smaller thing to the water that soon stretches out before them, but one beautiful, peaceful scene.

"What makes them inedible?" The little cleric's question floats alongside her, balancing on her fingertips when she stretches out a hand to watch its reflection touch a tide pool. Scurrying around to a wider side of one, nearer to their dutiful guide, she brushes her dress against her legs and crouches. Her gaze settles on the algae, and after a beat-- "Hello, Miss Lady," she whispers, wiggling her fingers at the silent tide, "Or whoever's there!"

With a flourish she springs back to her feet, pivoting on one heel and allowing the other to spin through the air. A wave to Ronan as she passes him, and once she's wandered a few steps further, another outstretched and playfully thrown toward Leif.

"That's right! I've never been fishing before." As far as grand little dreams went, it wasn't entirely off the list, though it rested quite peacefully below a great many other things. Perhaps if she made time for it, she could see that legendary golden fish one day... Oh, but the ocean is too beautiful today to keep plotting for tomorrow.

She laughs as she spins, and she spins as she laughs, a short-lived thing that swings her smile squarely upon the others.

"Yeah -- I want to hear, too! And if you guys are willing to teach me, then it's my turn to be the student again! Right? Hee hee... edible or not, I'm really looking forward to it!"

NEXT: @seawardoath or @diadic

[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

[itsuwaru]

rogue bow in the salad aisle | tamamo & ronan

continued from here | mini

[itsuwaru]

In normal circumstances, Tamamo would never allow anyone to just take her staff like that. To the fox that was Kyubi’s trust in her but given physical form, clear recognition of her status as the illusory goddess’ retainer as well as a proper mage. Having it be taken and used carelessly by someone- or as what’s basically a butterfly net for runaway bows, would’ve been a disrespect to her (because that’s rude!) and to the Goddess Kyubi Herself. The first pair of hands to try to yank it from her grasp would’ve been met with a warning zap at best, and a spell that would turn their clothes into cabbage leaves at worst.

“Take your time…hehe.” But at that moment, neither happened. Fair hands allowed the staff to be taken, sliding into the insides of her sleeves as she watched the blue-haired archer craft whatever he needed for his plan.

Watching the fluttering bow and whatever humiliation that came from it was funny enough, but Tamamo too was interested in seeing whatever her…subjects decided to do about their situation.

Panic always made for the most creative results. “That bow…is it special for you?” It wouldn’t really matter if it was a random disposable bow, but if it were something important to him in any shape or form then there would be an added kick to the whole ordeal. “Would it be bad if it got away?”

@seawardoath

[seawardoath]

She relinquishes the staff and Ronan manages to remember his manners long enough for a quick thank-you before he sets to work. If the student had thought him disrespectful of her holy artifact before, then he was making it no easier for her. Clutching the thing between his knees, he starts wrapping and tying his shirt around around the end of it until it billows into something of a makeshift net. If he could just hook it around the curved part of his bow, or even one of the wings (a strange thought, still as surreal as everything else happening this evening), then he could drag it back down to earth.

Focused as he is on this project, he barely hears his partner ask him a question.

"Huh?" Distractedly, he glances over his shoulder, looks back at his creation, then to her again. "Oh, uh..." By now, the net is finished, so he gives it a test swing and then cranes his neck back to track the direction that his bow is flying. For now it just hovers on the breeze like a butterfly or something.

"I guess it's not really 'special'. I made it myself and it makes me think of home when I hold it, but-- Ah! Almost!" The net whooshes through air and the bow flutters up higher. Ronan watches it for a second, then glances around for higher ground.

"Oh! Could you bring that over here?" He points to a crate behind the student. He'd otherwise hope that it wasn't too heavy for her to lift, but he's hardly thinking about that right now. Another swing of his net nearly snags his flyaway weapon.

"If I had to, I could make another one. But that'd be a waste. Whatever magic or curse that it's been inflicted with has to wear off eventually... right?"

[dcggersedge]

rabbit season! duck season!

herald | bow +1

[dcggersedge]

The arrow flies through the air and sinks to the flesh. A clean shot. The deer drops to the ground without so much of a sound and doesn't make another noise.

Yunaka does though, whistling lowly. "Nice shot." Had she thrown her dagger, she probably could've gotten it as well. A bow's a different beast though. Different muscles, different weight…no harm at all at leaving the work to a professional when she's got access to one.

In her village, you had to rely on what was there. Crops weren't always a guarantee from year to year and working in the mines made money, sure, but money's not exactly helpful at filling your stomach when there's no food to buy. Hunters had been important to the village. The job was usually passed down from family member to family member, so they could start learning as soon as possible. Realistically, Yunaka never would've been a hunter if she'd stayed.

…well, she'd never be village maiden number four anymore anyway, so no sense worrying about that.

She drops back down to the flats of her feet and gives Ronan a quick pat on the shoulder. They'll have to go looking for the rest of the deer that scattered when this one dropped. Her own bow and quiver are slung casually over her shoulder as she walks over to the body. "So, how many does that make now?" Between the birds and the rabbits and the deer, she definitely feels like they've gotten enough to make the average camper happy, but there had been a lot of emphasis put on the idea that this needed to be as big of a deal as possible.

@seawardoath

[seawardoath]

"Probably not enough," Ronan answers, kneeling beside the doe to see if he could rescue his arrowhead, but it was lodged in there deep. He'd have to cut it out, and that was better left for when they started the dressing. It'd been a clean shot - a single arrow to the heart - and although he'd brushed off Yunaka's compliment, he's still a little proud of each efficient kill he makes. This one could buy them some extra time to hunt down the rest of the herd before they needed to come back to gut it, so he grabs the deer by the hind legs and hauls her into some underbrush nearby to keep her hidden from the scavengers.

"One deer could feed my village for nearly a month, but this town sounds like it could fit ten of my villages in it. And that's not including all the guests for the festival." Dusting his hands, he stands to inspect his work, then drags a few more branches over the carcass. The snow would do most of the work for them.

"Winter's not exactly a good time to hunt... this doe's pretty thin. I don't know why this place can't just wait until the spring so the meat's fresh."

With the shake of his head, he turns to Yunaka and pulls his bow down from his shoulder.

"Maybe if we get a buck, we can call it a day. Let's see if those eyes of yours can pick one out now that we've scared everything off. They're sharper than mine, and not to brag or anything, but I was my village's best hunter."

Okay maybe he was bragging a little bit. And exaggerating. But most of the men in Iz spent their livelihoods out at sea, and Ronan, who occupied a strange space between the older generation and the children who had not been hunted by pirates for the Empire, had to spend his time elsewhere. He was a capable hunter; more than capable to feed his village on his own. Supplemented by the fish, of course.

[encantresse]

[ ♫ ] ─ * 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧…𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐲

aphotic / +1 heavy armor

[encantresse]

this dorsey's got an awfully strong grip for a child, though dorothea isn't sure if it's more to do with actual force or the fact that—she glances at ronan—they find themselves reluctant to dig in their heels.

"VIP section," she repeats, baffled by this turn of events. "sounds like you get plenty of customers...?"

dorsey doesn't relent. instead, she shrugs her shoulders and readjusts her grip on their hands. "boss says there's always room for more. this way!"

she tugs them toward the shack, and the closer they draw, the more evident it becomes that it's not simply some makeshift store or a childish hideout, but a home. through the large gaps between the wooden planks, dorothea spots little makeshift beds of straw and frayed blankets. littered around the floor are several pairs of child-sized boots, as well as a pile of discarded wooden bowls and what appear to be chicken bones from a previous dinner.

"here we go!" dorsey pulls them behind the lopsided shelter to reveal what could be described as a yard—generous as the term might be—made up of rocky patches of dirt and host to several rusted tables with various items displayed atop them. "the vee-eye-pee section," the child announces. "boss must think you two are reaaaaaal important if he told me to bring you here."

she finally releases their hands, though a loud tinkling sound draws her attention to a hunched figure beneath one of the tables. dorothea turns her head as well, surprised to spot a third child polishing silverware from a box. "hawk! we got guests! vee-eye-pees."

hawk, a serious-looking boy with dark hair done in plaits, peers out from his hiding spot to study them. he eyes ronan's bow carefully. "no wonder. you've got what boss wants."

dorsey nods. "we're always looking for weapons," she supplies helpfully. "boss says we've gotta—" she mimics aiming something at someone's head and shooting, "take out the competition!"

hawk frowns at this, though whatever's on his mind goes unsaid. he merely shrugs at his friend's addition and returns his focus to his task. "give me a hand with this, dorsey. let them browse. customers don't like it when you hover."

[seawardoath]

The kids make themselves scarce. As much as they can back here anyway. The one called Hawk puts his head down and keeps working, but Dorsey has other plans. She skips over to a curtain made of old blankets hanging from a wire and pretends to look like she's gathering some old knickknacks to offer to her friend (coworker?), but Ronan catches her peeking beneath the frayed bottoms to make sure their guests are shopping.

Ronan clears his throat and decides to take her cue, but his fingers curl tighter around the bow slung over his shoulders as he approaches one of the tables near the back.

"They do have some wood here," he murmurs to Dorothea, hoping his voice is low enough that the kids can't hear him over the city's noise. Three solid planks are leaned up against a rickety old fence - probably intended to be cut down and used to repair it when the rot made it the rest of the way through. They've been pilfered from various places throughout the city, he has no doubt about that, but only one of them looks like it hasn't already been damaged by the rains. He steps up to it to run his fingers with the grain, making sure it's smooth.

"The shipbuilders will seal whatever we bring them but they can't do anything about wood that's already decaying."

He doesn't ask the kids what they want for it yet; he knows the price of whatever they pick up will probably be his bow and whatever Dorothea happens to be carrying. The one that's been shining silverware under the corner has kept a sharp eye on him though, so Ronan retracts his hand and decides to come back around to it after he's gauged the rest of their wares.

As they approach a table covered in all kinds of odds and ends - bent needles, half-spun spools of thread, armless toys, and even a few old coins - Ronan leans in close to Dorothea.

"Did you bring any weapons with you? I don't think these children are interested in our money."

But that assumed there was anything worth buying to begin with. Still, Ronan feels the pressure of expectation boring holes through his back.

[seawardoath]

Everyone is a Hero in Their Own Eyes

infamous - ransom | Ronan, Sylvain, & Claude

[failnaughted]

Claude almost couldn't believe he was thinking this, but he felt like he would have preferred to get stuck at the monastery writing a magic-themed assignment than get stuck here doing... whatever it was they were even supposed to be doing. Oh right, guard work for one of the Alliance's many currently very paranoid nobles. Those were technically his people, so he supposed he should take it at least a little seriously, but he'd be lying if he said the lack of faith and respect they treated both him and the other students with wasn't a little demoralizing. And to be perfectly honest, so was the utterly dull silence of the night.

As it turned out, doing something he wasn't fond of was still preferable over having literally nothing to do to make the time pass faster.

One of his companions in the misery attempted to pick up a conversation, and Claude perked up, looking at him with curiosity. If he recalled correctly, the man - also an archer - supported the Golden Deer during the last Battle of the Eagle and Lion... Although Claude's swift elimination from the event prevented him from witnessing his ability. Quite the shame. He glanced briefly at the other, a face connected to Faerghus intelligence reports - the heir to House Gautier.

It would be interesting to judge their abilities against a proper group of enemies, but for now, an imaginary one might just have to do. Still, the story Ronan had begun to set up was an interesting scenario - by far the most engaging thing that was happening this night so far, even if that was a low bar - and it got the gears in Claude's head rotating a bit.

He smiled. It would be a good opportunity to learn a thing or two about the kinds of people he found himself with.

"... The friend, we'll call them C," he picked up, noting the naming scheme, "had found himself in the middle of an intrigue at the court - blamed for an assassination he did not commit. Of course, no one trusted his explanations - you could say the verdict had already fallen before he ever got a chance."

Damn, that was hitting a little close to home.

"Now, tied up and beaten, he could only watch as the traitorous Duke sent a message to his friends, demanding their arrival - luring them straight into his trap."

He paused there, throwing a meaningful glance at Sylvain, curious to see if the redhead would pick it up - and if so, just how.

> @ruinedskys

[ruinedskys]

It wasn’t unusual to be divided like this - students from different houses covering bases where hands were needed. It just made for some boring days…or boring nights. Sylvain stifles a yawn, trapping it behind a gloved hand before putting it back behind his head. Letting his eyes slip closed as Ronan speaks - he isn’t tired, but the effort in imagining the little scene everyone is silently committing to is made easier in darkness. 

Part desperation and part honest curiosity, Sylvain’s chair gives a vicious thud as the front legs finally hit the ground. Hands slip into the pockets of his pants and then the ones on the inner parts of his jacket - observing the things he has with him. 

Three gold coins, which he stacks in a neat line before pushing it to the far corner of their table. 

A broken off piece of a wooden door handle that he’d accidentally acquired on the way in. This stays close to him. Might as well. 

One cube of sugar that he’d thought he lost…no wonder his horse had been so cross with him. 

It’d all be better with a real board to play with, but with his handkerchief, and a few pieces of hay that’d been clinging since the stables, he manages to maneuver their pieces into the barest bones of a board with three characters. “We like tragedy, huh?” There’s a lilt to his tone that he knows others rarely take seriously. In counterpoint, he digs his chin into the heel of his hand and surveys the small map. Then Ronan and Claude, as serious as any important person would, planning their next move. A sigh, a touch of drama. “The kidnapping’s been a long time coming…At least that’s what S thinks. He’s known C all their lives,” He throws Claude a wink, making the handful of hay resemble a cage around the separated cold pieces. “After all, with C out of the way? They’re unopposed for the throne, and they know that word of the King’s assassination means that any allies C has would be stupid to come to their defense.”

Sylvain is pretty sure he’s read this somewhere before. Oh well. “S knows they have to play it smart...of course he'd rather just gut the Duke and drag him through town for good measure but," A handwave accompanies this. "That'll come later, when the majority remembers where their loyalties should lie. So, the mutual friend comes in here. S has been the mentor figure, so it's natural to take the lead. Besides, R is an outsider that the Duke's heard of but never seen. It makes him the perfect in between.” Sylvain smiles at Ronan, drumming his fingers on the table. “These three are friends, right? They know each other. The only reason that the Duke sent that letter to R is because they need something to nail the coffin shut with. They won’t kill C until they’re sure, and C should be smart enough to stay alive long enough for them to rescue him.”

Composing the letter would be a bit much. It’s a good thing Sylvain doesn’t have pen and paper.

@seawardoath

[seawardoath]

Ronan surveyed the table as he listened. Sylvain was much better at thinking up the ins and outs of this story, but maybe it was child's play for the nobles whose lives aligned a little better than his own with this tale they spun.

"R. S. And C." Ronan touched each coin as if noting their names to himself, lingering a little longer on C's, who was now trapped within a square of straw.

"C has already been missing for a week," he said with another tap, and then took the two remaining coins and slid them away toward his own corner.

"So..."

The tale began thusly.

"Why me?" R paced the floor restlessly. He'd been muttering the same thing between every few words from S, clutching the torn-open letter in his hand. It was early morning, or late at night, depending on how one liked to see things, and although R hadn't yet raised his voice - he certainly looked ready to - the boots he hadn't taken from his feet trudged noisily from one end of the room they were renting to the other. They'd stopped here for the night. It wasn't safe to stay in their own homes; eventually someone would come knocking, and the demand would be more than just the answer to a letter.

Friends of the accused had to be accomplices. If they weren't, then they could be bribed to turn on him, as R had been. In his other hand, he weighed the pouch of coin that had come with the letter. It'd promised more, but that was one of only two lines R had read before he'd been overcome with emotion.

"I've known C since we were children. He's always been mischievous, but he'd never go so far as to kill someone, especially not the king. And even if he had, what makes the Duke think that his best friend would come testify against him?"

Was friendship more important than justice? R thought so. Was it more important than gold? His eyes flitted to the sack of coin, then as if it were made of fire, he tossed it suddenly onto the table and wiped his hand on the leg of his trousers.

He could use a new blade-- No. Nothing good came of blood money.

He turned on S with a furious look on his face.

"The only way I'm going the Duke's gardens is to put that greedy bastard in his place. Then all we have to do is find C. You'll help, wont' you?" His expression then relaxed, softened, turned pleading like a child begging his mother for something sweet. Because a child knows how to ask, but not to accept any answer but "yes."

"You wouldn't just turn your back on him now, after everything we've been through?"

@failnaughted @ruinedskys

[ulirblood]

this is my new blue haired archer son – ronan & edain

[seawardoath]

"H-hey!" Ronan ducks his chin down into his collar in a futile effort to avoid Edain's hand touching down on the top of his head. He was going to pout and say something about how he's not a kid anymore, but there's much needed comfort in her touch. Familiar, even if he's only just met her - nearly a taste of home, or really, just enough that it soothes the ache he'd had in his heart since he'd arrived and spent his first night truly alone in his room.

So reluctantly, he gives in and his shoulders slouch down away from his chin.

"Mm... maybe you're right. But, to be honest, I think he changed me more than I changed him. I probably would have spent the whole rest of my life in my village if the Fiana Freeblades hadn't come by."

But he should be proud of himself, shouldn't he? He's alive now, after all.

"I wasn't about to let them take all the glory for fending off Lifis' gang from our shores though, so shooting's good enough for killing pirates, at least."

His cup's empty by now. He doesn't know when that had happened. So he nods to their glasses and then the empty teapot.

"I guess this tea party's coming to an end. I'm sure you have some place to be, so I'll stay behind and clean up." He stands to begin gathering the plates together on a tray. "Oh, and I'll definitely let Prince Leif know that you're here the next time I see him."

[ulirblood]

there are a few slivers of curiosity mixed in with what he reveals, but the attention he brings to their now empty cups makes her momentarily forget. how that had happened she doesn't know; it's not like she hated tea but it wasn't something she so regularly enjoyed.

"we sure drank a lot, huh?" edain laughs in a lighthearted manner, pressing her hand sheepishly to her cheek. she scoots back and out of her chair elegantly, giving ronan one more pat on the shoulder once she's standing then pulling back. "thank you, ronan. for letting leif know about me of course, but also for being such a wonderful young man." she would have liked to talk with him a little more but he is right. she still has those papers to grade and a seminar to prepare for. "i hope you'll trust me enough to look for me in the future if something troubles you."

she dips her head politely in goodbye. "i'll be seeing you around later, alright?"

[END]

[ulirblood]

this is my new blue haired archer son – ronan & edain

[ulirblood]

she chuckles quietly seeing his embarrassed reaction. it almost reminded her of the way lester would react when she complimented his archery closer to adulthood.

“don’t put yourself down like that.” she can’t help but stand and reach forward, patting him affectionately on the head like she would have her own son. “the bond made between two people fighting the same war can be stronger than even blood relation. there isn’t a single reason to think you didn’t do anything to help him change at all.” her smile turns warmer and far more genuine as she looks down at him. 

“modesty is a good trait to have… but it’s not bad to be proud of yourself once in a while either.” if there is anything he takes away from this conversaton, she hopes it’s that.

“would you do that?” edain clasps her hands together hopefully after sitting back down. “that would be wonderful. i’ve been too busy with the blue lions to make sure the students of the other houses are doing alright. of course i’d like to meet him naturally… but that really would be a great help.”

[seawardoath]

"H-hey!" Ronan ducks his chin down into his collar in a futile effort to avoid Edain's hand touching down on the top of his head. He was going to pout and say something about how he's not a kid anymore, but there's much needed comfort in her touch. Familiar, even if he's only just met her - nearly a taste of home, or really, just enough that it soothes the ache he'd had in his heart since he'd arrived and spent his first night truly alone in his room.

So reluctantly, he gives in and his shoulders slouch down away from his chin.

"Mm... maybe you're right. But, to be honest, I think he changed me more than I changed him. I probably would have spent the whole rest of my life in my village if the Fiana Freeblades hadn't come by."

But he should be proud of himself, shouldn't he? He's alive now, after all.

"I wasn't about to let them take all the glory for fending off Lifis' gang from our shores though, so shooting's good enough for killing pirates, at least."

His cup's empty by now. He doesn't know when that had happened. So he nods to their glasses and then the empty teapot.

"I guess this tea party's coming to an end. I'm sure you have some place to be, so I'll stay behind and clean up." He stands to begin gathering the plates together on a tray. "Oh, and I'll definitely let Prince Leif know that you're here the next time I see him."

[frigidsurge]

Commiting arson in the kitchen like the best of them.

[frigidsurge]

She watches him carefully searching for something?

For him to get mad? Exhausted with her?

She's unsure, and he really seems like somebody too kind for his own good.

But she cannot find any words.

She probably should feel guilty for pushing him so much to use it, but instead she's overjoyed as the spell sparks to life.

The technique is unsurprisingly graceless, but the power of it stuns her.

First time, huh?

She raises her hands and claps slowly

Looking for words

"You're not hurt, are you? That was quite an impressive power for someone casting for the first time; only Ishtars would surpass it out of those I've seen."

She's still quiet and soft, but the distraction eased her mind quite a bit.

"You really should cultivate not necessarily offensive magic, but maybe healing could be useful. I mean, Jugdral is still plagued with conflict, and even if not, hunting accidents happen. Ah!"

She rummages around for her paper again, scribbling quickly on another page.

"Please don't feel uncomfortable denying me, but maybe you could try a basic heal? I bit my lip a little, but I can cut my finger if you need a clearer target.

White magic improves with proximity; there's no need to be poking the wound, but most people hold the patient's hand or put their hand on the person's shoulder."

She really is pushing her luck, straining herself, but she truly feels like she saw a spark of something special.

[seawardoath]

"Lady Ishtar... the goddess of thunder? There's no way..." Ronan shakes his head vehemently. Modest he might be, but he's just being realistic now.

"Wasn't she the best mage of our generation? That's what I'd heard. And she's come from a whole line of powerful mages. I might not know who my dad was, but my mother's not a mage."

If she was, then she's hid it pretty well all these years. He can't imagine she wouldn't have woven in little tricks here and there, like this scrap of paper capable of lighting the hearth, if she'd had any talent with it. But still, Tine echoes what the old man who'd hired him for the monastery had said. Impressive. For someone without any training at all.

Ronan glances down at the palm of his hand and flexes his fingers.

"The fire didn't touch me, but, ah... that wasn't my first time. An old monk tested me the same way when I got here. Whatever he'd scribbled on that piece of paper had let me shoot arrows without a bow."

But it wasn't him that he should worry about. When Ronan turns to look at Tine again, her lip is a little bloody from how she'd been biting it earlier. And then she says she'll cut herself.

"No!" Ronan darts toward her to make sure she doesn't reach for any of the knives on the counter, standing between her and anything sharp. "No, please don't. I don't want you hurting yourself like that just to test me. I can... try to fix up your lip, but--"

He frowns, looking her in the eye.

"It'd be easier with some warm water and a towel. Why are you so interested in seeing me cast magic?"

[dcggersedge]

you wouldn't download a cannonball

aphotic | sea map

[dcggersedge]

She's starting to think that they might've been sent into a situation where they were woefully under prepared and uninformed.

The ship abruptly rocks as a trio of cannon fire slams into them. Yunaka's lucky, and she's quick enough to grab onto the rail before she goes flying overboard, but a crew member nearby isn't so lucky. The sound of him shouting is cut off by a splash down below, but Yunaka barely gets a chance to look over the side before more shouting tears her attention elsewhere.

Damn, that's a lot of ships on the horizon.

With gritted teeth, she pushes herself back up to her feet. S'fine. S'fine. They're not finished yet. So long as you're still breathing, you can keep fighting. She glances over at the students, counts three heads still on board, and turns away with a nod. Still all fighting.

"We're taking on water!" Oh, great. Yunaka abandons the cannons to run over to the stairs below deck. It's not bad yet, but even from up here she can see water streaming in from below. They might not have as long as they'd like.

"Keep us from getting surrounded." She shouts over to the students. How they do so, she'll leave in their hands. Retreat or fight...their call.

Yunaka rushes down the stairs. Repair a ship, how the heck do you repair a ship? There's a plank of wood leaning up against some crates nearby. She grabs that, fumbles around in the crate until she finds a hammer and some nails, then rushes over to the nearest leak she can and starts trying her best to get the plank secured on top of it. As soon as she finishes, though, the wood groans and another trickle of water starts to pour in right beside it. She groans, turning to find another plank. "Come on!"

@dancersnewme

[dancersnewme]

Oh! That was not good. Theyre 100% getting outnumbered by the second. Once the call was made that they were taking water, Lene's nerves had reached their breaking point.

But she was calm, so calm actually.

Lene thought about taking another shot at the approaching ships, but she was terrified at the idea that it could cause worse problems then if they just turned around now. It wasn't ideal- but she wasnt fond of dying in the ocean.

If she had a coin for every time she thought she would die in foreign oceans... she'd have two coins! Which isn't a lot but... its strange that it keeps happening! Maybe Lene should stay clear from ships.

"No... We should..." Lene's comment trailed off, as she quickly made her way towards the captain of the ship "I am SURE that you have realized by now-" fretted Lene, as she pointed toward the horizon "We'll ensure that the ship stays a float- just... please get us to safety" She didn't stay to hear the answer. Instead, swiftly making her way down towards where she had seen one of the others on the ship run towards.

"Im here-! Ill help!" Lene assured her, taking one of the planks near by, hammering the plank on top of the exposed area of the ship. She sighed, wondering how long they're going to be down here- and how soon they will be safe on land again.

[ END OF THREAD ]

[itsuwaru]

rogue bow in the salad aisle | tamamo & ronan

continued from here | mini

[itsuwaru]

Long term tricks had always been Tamamo’s favorite, aging just like fine wine. The longer someone goes unaware that they’ve been deceived, falling for the same thing and failing to register that what they thought was reality was actually purely false, the more frustration and outrage would build up. Sometimes even a tinge of sadness and melancholy, that deep burn of embarrassment from realizing someone played you like a fiddle. Yes- that was the goal. Always her true goal.

But she wasn’t one to refuse quick and easy kicks, the type that would last for a couple minutes at most before falling apart in a spark. In the end a trick was a trick, and as long as their objective was met- fooling someone, in her eyes it was welcome. Just like eating a piece of candy here and there.

So when ruckus reached her ears, lined with laughter and confusion, it was impossible to hold back a smile. The silky hem of her sleeve was pressed against her mouth, a feeble attempt to try to make delight pass for quiet surprise when the blue of that archer’s hair appeared amidst the crowd right around the corner of her eye.

Oh, he needed help? Sure…

“Me? Ah…” Tamamo looked up, the bow flapping its ‘wings’ wildly like a butterfly towards her direction. Maybe she should’ve made it go somewhere else, muddy the tracks a little more, but this would work enough. “But it’s so far up, I can’t reach…” A snap of fingers brought the staff back to her hands, red gems glittering against sunlight as she loosely tried to wrangle the rogue bow with it as if it were a scarf lost in the wind.

“Hmmm…how did that happen to you now? It’s quite…weird.” Golden hues glanced at the man, partially hidden by the cut of her bangs. “But it’s a little funny…hehe. Hehehe.” Oh poor thing, the staff just wouldn’t catch the bow at all- each failed attempt earning a shaky pout from the magician. Perhaps some would see it as frustration on her end, unaware that the quiver in her lips came from holding back that beast of a grin. “Maybe you need to catch it with a bag…like a little butterfly. Quick, before it decides to fly up and away.”

@seawardoath

[seawardoath]

"A bag?" Ronan jogged to a stop near his would-be assistant and craned his neck back to peer at his runaway bow, nearly being blinded by the angle of the sun on this particularly cloudless day. He shielded his eyes just in time to watch his bow flap its wings and twirl away from the young woman's attempts to snag it with her staff. It wasn't very fast, but she was right: if he didn't hurry, it might move out of reach entirely.

For a split second, he wondered if it'd be easier just to make a new one. Then maybe he wouldn't be the center of this marketplace's attention right now. He could tell that everyone who'd put their shopping on hold to stare at him - merchants and customers alike - did so expecting to witness the conclusion to this very bizarre, dream-like chase sequence. If he wanted to, he could abandon his bow and just walk away. Disappoint them, but keep his dignity in tact at least.

His bow starts to flutter its wings again, rising on a swell of wind, and Ronan makes the decision without thinking.

"Let me borrow that," he says, and grabs the student's staff. Whether she lets go or not, he's too distracted to notice, and pulls her over to some crates stacked up next to the wall. Then he starts to tug his green shirt off over his head with his other hand. Now wearing his white undershirt pulled loose from his trousers, his hair ruffled by the sudden undressing, his eyes trained on the weapon flying overhead, he steps up onto the lowest crate. Only one problem now--

"Please. I promise I'll return it," he turns and says to the student about her staff.

[seawardoath]

The Meaning of Home

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

[diadic]

     Leif nods to Ronan's cue for him. “That's right.” Home— the word bounces and shifts in Leif's mind until it settles calmly like a lost item falling to the ocean floor. 'Home,' he knows he ought to call Leonster; however, even now, it's not second-nature to the prince to introduce himself as its scion. The pull of so many years hiding such a fact has buried what should have been instinct.

Yet, for only three years in this coastline by comparison, the sound Ronan speaks of it doesn't feel so odd.

That is not to say it is not new though. Leif, for all he might call this sea his home, had still been a prince held in safety and a relative newcomer all the same. Three years for Leif is but a single handful of sand compared to Ronan's beach's worth of experience in this lifestyle. Fiana and Iz, for as close as they were, were also not one and the same.

The smile Ronan shows now is, Leif imagines, from a time he didn't know him too— a thing afforded to those like the shopkeeper from before who know the secrets of living in places like this for as long as they do, for those who don't pick up a sword but instead a hatchet or a bow. He follows after Ronan's lead, chasing through hills so as to chase these extra years of a lifestyle Leif came too late into.

To chase 'home.'

“I've only ever followed the Freeblades to go fishing. You make me wish I'd broken off once... maybe I could've brought something nice to surprise Osian and Halvan with if I'd been more like you, Ronan,” Leif speaks in some admiration, keeping up pace. Even back then, he'd been chasing his neighbors for this feeling, just as he chases after Ronan now.

At twelve years old or nineteen— it's all the same, so it would seem.

“Maria said the forests in Verdane reminded her of Macedon, right?” he plays off of Ronan's line of inquiry. He remembers then to perhaps look back after her and make sure she's keeping pace too, forgetful and newly conscious of this. Leif slows his pace in reaction, but he keeps his gaze glancing forward through the trees towards their destination. “Salt... I think I smell the sea. We're getting close, aren't we?!”

A scent that sets him alive and makes him homesick all the same; for all consideration he reminds himself to put when Ronan's words had reminded him to, Leif forgets again, a sudden burst of speed pushing him forward in that youthful anticipation.

Chasing home, chasing Ronan's memories, chasing the sea— they all make his feet light as can be.

NEXT: @princessmacedon !!

[princessmacedon]

When Ronan's hand sweeps across the horizon, Maria's follows suit, a slower, more lingering thing. Slivers of water peek from between her fingers; if she relaxed a bit, if she let them dip, she might very well brush against the ocean and sun herself.

"Your home is beautiful," she answers sincerely, despite that gentle pang of envy in her chest. Even of her Macedon, she knows precious little. Had she ever traced the line of its shore with her footsteps, or wandered through its dense forest from below, and not above? Had she ever touched its waves like this? The displaced princess -- Leif and Ronan's friend -- turns over her palm, dropping a light and playful touch against the glittering sunlight. "Hee hee... if you told me right here that the coast stretched on forever, I think I would believe you."

It's only then that she wonders why it is that a prince made his home in a coastal village quiet enough, peaceful enough that a shopkeeper might while away his mornings in the sun. Her eyes chase his back as he breaks away, his question answered firstly with a faint smile. Then her gaze drifts toward Ronan, curious if she might find another there to share, and she thinks that she would much rather ask them all the reasons they hold this place so dear.

"It's really, really pretty," she asserts, nearly to herself.

"I'll keep your secret safe," Maria promises Ronan fondly. The excited grin shining toward him is split in two by the finger she brings to her lips, and swallowed up entirely by a peal of laughter. "But yes! Macedon is surrounded by the ocean, too! The mountains are covered in trees--" At that, the little cleric reaches toward the sky, fingers splayed as if to catch every drop of blue. Then she directs her palm outward, much the same as Ronan had before. "--but whenever I missed home, I'd look at the water and think it was just over the horizon." Like that, it was never so far away.

Throwing out her arms, Maria shakes off the energy bubbling in her chest by twirling in place. It isn't as if she has any idea where they're actually going, even if she runs ahead. (She giggles at that.)

NEXT: @seawardoath or @diadic

[seawardoath]

It didn't take long for the three of them to venture to the southernmost boundary of the village, marked only by the river shimmering under the midday sun between the houses there and the forests beyond. The people of Iz had no need for a wall, having the natural protection of Thracia's rugged mountains to the west instead, and the dense forest north and south of them, so they were unimpeded to cross the creek and wind their way through hills and cliffs toward the sea. Ronan kept the lead, but Leif and Maria would sometimes take their own turns in front once the path became a straight shot to the coast.

The cliffs overlooking the coast here are tall, but not dangerously so, and a crude set of wooden steps has been hammered into a slope down one side of them. They'd obviously been made by an untrained hand, perhaps a child, but they serve their purpose as footholds well enough. Ronan marches down them without so much as a slip, making it clear that he'd been the one to build them, or at least use them more than anyone else in the village. There was a certain confidence in his step that only came with trust.

"Well, we're here," he says once they reach the rocky shore. It's low tide at this hour, so the beach is strewn with debris - petrified logs, algae, and broken shells, mostly - and pockmarked with tide pools still full of water. Here, too, a low waterfall spills the river into the ocean, and a small bay separates where they stand from the rest of the village's coastline.

Ronan starts to patrol the tidepools, stepping carefully between them so as not to slip and fall in.

"There's usually plenty of fish over here. Most just aren't very edible," he says over his shoulder. "When I was a child though, learning how to catch anything was enough to make me feel like I was doing something worthwhile."

Next: @princessmacedon @diadic

[cotharach]

— THE BEGINNING NOTES OF A SIREN SONG .

ronan you are speaking my language so fluently i mistook you for a nabatean

[cotharach]

"Ronan…" she murmured, the syllables floating through the air as if carried by a light breeze and not a voice, "Oh, Ronan, thank you!"

By now, her head was starting to clear. Vague recollections of exactly what she was doing here and why began to stitch themselves together, forming that beautiful tapestry of memory that she had always been protective over, yet whose threads seemed to come undone so easily. She sat up, and when her legs shifted, the seaweed that had been caught between them also moved, like a pair of fins or a fine tail.

"No, no, I was not swimming. I had been fishing in the dock, just right there, when I was viciously pulled in by… something." Flayn sighed, "What it is, I cannot yet say, though I have my suspicions."

There was no other fish quite as fierce as the Goddess Messenger, so she was certain that must have been the one to drag her down the pond's depths. Though perhaps her diminutive size could have allowed lesser creatures to pull her in… but still! She wished to believe that, even for a moment, she had managed to hook the elusive fish, even if she were the one who ended up getting reeled in.

She wrung the water out of her hair, which was so heavy with pondwater that its beautiful curls had lost all shape, and it instead sat limply over her shoulders. It was at this moment that she realized how she might have looked in front of Ronan—drenched, heaving, utterly messy—and felt a warmth creep up to her cheeks.

"Oh! Er," she stuttered suddenly, "I understand now how terrible of a first impression this must be... My name is Flayn, and I would like to assure you I do not normally fall into ponds, nor get caught into hooks! I must thank you once again for rescuing me. You must be disappointed I am not a large, delicious fish."

She would have been, anyway.

[seawardoath]

Many years ago, when Ronan was barely old enough to join the fisherman in the village when the set out to sea, he'd overheard a few of them trading stories about a woman they'd seen - more fish than human - who was thought to live in the waters off the coast of Iz. He was quite young at the time, and they spoke without thinking that the boy sitting in the corner with their nets might be eavesdropping, so they filled their tales with all sorts of exaggerated details adults liked to add when they wanted to entertain. The only one who hadn't picked up on the subtle message that this was mere fantasy - albeit one they wished could be true - was Ronan, and so he'd spent the whole rest of the the trip peering out into the dark waters for a glimpse of flowing hair and glimmering scales.

He was well past the age of fairytales by now, and he'd come to terms with the truth of the Woman of the Sea back when he was still a teenager. There was no such thing. He knew that. And yet like all the fishermen who'd spent their evenings at sea trading stories of the fish woman they were so certain they'd seen, his heart fluttered with some small hope.

And he was staring.

"No, not at all," he said absently, only half-aware of what he was answering as he blinked away from the tail-like fan of grasses around her legs. (legs, surely. not a tail.) Still flushed pink, he raised his eyes to her face and sat back on one knee. What was he saying? What was she saying?

He was still staring.

"O-oh, uh," he shook his head and quickly stood up, "Flayn. What a--"

Cute name? Pretty name? A perfect-for-a-mermaid name?

"--weird name." He winced. "I-I mean, I've never heard a name like yours before. I was just about to start a fire for lunch. Would... you like to join me? You could dry off, if nothing else." Dusting his hands on his trousers, he glanced toward the campfire he'd started on the bank but hadn't set a light to yet. "You must have been in the water for a while. I didn't even hear you fall in."

[cervanke]

⠀⬩⠀gannets never go blind

infamous⠀/⠀sword

[cervanke]

NO ONE COMES TO SAVE HER, UNTIL SOMEONE DOES.　𐂂　she doesn't even hear the voice at first, caught up in the empty, frenetic noise in her own mind as she counts every step. it's only when her gaoler suddenly stops and turns that she lifts her head to his sneering expression and follows its line in surprise. a young man, blue hair. . . ronan? oh, no.

heated, impassionate, he interjects on her behalf, drawing the attention of all around who are determined to do nothing else but laugh at him. her brow creases with sympathy, then anger ; then gratitude and something more difficult to place softens the line of it again just as quickly. he shouldn't be here, doing that, and for a moment she steps forward to say so, only to be yanked back again before she can open her mouth. "you're not going anywhere," the guard growls at her while some woman's strident voice rises up further in the crowd, ronan continuing on afterwards.

then all of it is stopped. her attention, along with dozens of others', turn to the front of the walkway. the fringes of the crowd there shuffle aside, falling hushed. someone even more important than any of them has shown up ; her brow renews its righteous crease.

the elderly man stepping through smiles when he looks at her, which is a surprise, but not one that unseats her for long. the ones that smile always have the worst intentions. "ananke. is that your name?"

"who's asking?" she doesn't think her tone's rude, but a ripple passes through the crowd anyway. the elderly man looks over her shoulder at them, and it dwindles into silence again.

"that's not important to you," he dismisses gently as if she was an insistent child, which only makes the line of her mouth tighten more. "what is, is that i must admit your friend is a little right."

all lines dissipate in surprise. wha. . . ?

"i'll make this quick because i don't have time to spare. there is another suspect in our custody as we speak."

the rattle of her chain is almost querying, preceding the guard's voice. "my lord?"

but he continues as though he hadn't heard. "as it stands, there is evidence that implicates you both. however, we know for certain that only one individual could have murdered the viscount. i will give you both a choice: investigate and present a testimony against the other to sentence them to death, and you may go free."

the quiet is deafening. she's not completely sure she understands. already, one flaw in this choice stands out: "that doesn't make sense. if we both testify against each other. . . "

"then presumably you will have both found strong evidence against the other, and so you both will be shackled in the dungeons as the investigation continues."

her throat is dry when she swallows, rough and parched, never taking her eyes off him for a moment. " . . . "

"but as i said, for now, your friend is correct. there's not enough evidence at the moment to implicate either of you." he waves the cane at the guard, and it doesn't feel real, but the man barely hesitates. in a few seconds, the iron around her wrists falls open and she rotates them disbelievingly. the last word the lord gives is spoken with a shrug in parting as he turns, like an afterthought: "should you both choose to do nothing, i suppose there's little we can do but let you go. i have no interest in making an enemy of the church by convicting you wrongly."

. . .

what does that. . . what does that even mean? she's free to go? suddenly? but in order to really go free, she has to build a case against a stranger? or, what. but what if they also do the same and testify against her——he'd said he'd offered the same choice to them too. but if they do nothing. . . no, there's no way anyone would do nothing. ananke isn't certain what happens in the minutes that pass as she stands there, looking at her wrists and seeing neither of them, only that at some point the crowd of nobility, the lord, and her guard have left, and only ronan remains.

[seawardoath]

Just like that, the crowd of spectators disperse and the hall empties. Not a second too soon either, because Ronan realizes he'd been holding his breath through the old man's offer and lets it go now with a strained gasp, doubling forward to grab his knees.

"I can't believe that worked..." he says, near-breathless and mostly to himself. The earlier claustrophobic feeling has given way to the cold echo of marble walls and for a second he almost forgets that the person he'd defended was still at the other end.

"Are you alright?" His head snaps up to the sight of Ananke absently rubbing her wrists in the same kind of can't-believe-this-is-real daze that made his own legs feel like rubber. The gaoler had hauled the chains off with him when he'd left, but Ronan trots over looking for them anyway. Maybe then this situation would sharpen back into reality.

"Sorry, I don't know if you had a plan or anything, but," he shakes his head and doesn't meet her eyes, "I couldn't just stand by and not say anything. These nobles will just--" This time he stops to find the words, frowning and still shaking his head in half-disapproval, half-disbelief at some distant point between two columns along the corridor. The heads of those gossiping ladies sneer at him from the shadows, then they twist into the heavy features of the guard, before smiling with the subtle hint of personal amusement that he swears he'd seen on the old man's face.

"They don't care about fairness, you know? Not usually... So I'm going to make sure I do everything I can to help clear your name now that they've given us the chance."

Us. Ronan says it without even thinking. The only 'us' had been that of two mercenaries in the employ of the church, contracted to guard a paranoid nobleman. There didn't need to be an 'us' now in the trial of a murderer. Anyone else probably would have just walked away from Ananke; the messes she got tangled up in was her business.

"We've been together since we got here anyway. If you'd killed someone, I'd know. Especially our employer."