CHAMELEON; @sennokao - Tumblr Blog

WHAT MAKES A PERSONALITY.

A template for analyzing features of a personality beyond listing adjectives.

SELF - CONCEPT.

View of Self: A millennial creature. Abandoned his depleted dragonstone and assimilated into the lesser mold of humanity. In this way he, nearly alone, has survived the extinction of his tribe. Except that this way of survival is no survival at all. There exists no place on earth for someone neither human nor dragon. No pride in a lonely existence that will outlive every other of the same fragile appearance and hunger for their company all the same.

View of Others: The age of dragons is over. Humans rise to take their stage, but the creature known as man exists with terrible flaws. Arrogant, cruel, and debasing. Humans prove themselves abominable overlords to the hapless dragonkin. Humans inflict pain upon his poor degenerated kinsmen. He understands why Medeus lashed out his fangs against a land newly ruled by humanity. And yet... he learns. These vices do not portray them all.

View of World: Enigmatic and cyclic. Without favor for any one species or another. The humans believe his kind to be gods yet even the world condemns them. With the divine dragons slain and the earth dragons sleeping in their tombs, still the world spins. Still Xane watches the motions.

Motivations & Goals: Going his own way and chasing his own whims, fettered by no-one and nothing. The death of King Naga has left him with a lack of feudal purpose but he is in no hurry to find another. Here is one that goes where he pleases.

What they Value Most: Neutrality. Unable to call himself totally human and no longer a true divine dragon, inhabits a comfortable state of nonintervention designed to ignore both sides. The universe can break or mend all on its own as it always has. With or without Xane it will be fine.

EMOTIONAL REACTIONS.

Reaction to Stress: Self-imposed solitude or deceptively offhand attitude. No matter how pleasant and whimsical his smiles, showing weakness in front of humans rubs his nonexistent scales the wrong way. Preference results in seemingly light-hearted avoidance of more solemn matters at hand.

Reaction to Fear: Stiff, closed off body language during hostile situations of the battlefield or war table. Nervous laughter and conciliatory posturing of hands when faced with an irate ally, as is often the case with his antics.

Reaction to Success: Childish glee, typically committing to a one-man celebration. Takes great pride in his achievements especially in regards to his natural shapeshifting abilities.

Reaction to Failure: Still undeniably childlike, disappointment manifesting in drooping shoulders and unabated pouts. Recovers well, however, and bounces back with relative speed in relation to his failures. A good sport.

DEVELOPMENT.

Ideal Self: A well-conformed existence that can transition smoothly in and out of human societies. In the present day and age, humanity is a guise tantamount to survival for the dragonkin and so he must wear their skin to the fullest while also maintaining his preferred neutrality.

Areas of Growth: An open attitude of affection and perceived permanence towards his existing friendships. The willingness to create more whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Barriers to Growth: Avoidance and flightiness towards inter-species relationships for fear of eventual abandonment. Lingering wariness towards the human race and attachment to the belief that most are bad as opposed to good.

#◦ ☻ : 『 GOT YOUR NOSE! 』 meme.#◦ ☻ : 『 NOTHIN’ TO DO WITH ME! 』 introspection.#and one for xane too :3c

𝑺𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝑨𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌.

𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔

Pass / Fail

𝑺𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒔

Earned: +1

Previous: 7

Current: 8

𝑺𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕(𝒔) 𝑮𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏

Sword point: C+(1/2) -> B

#◦ ☻ : 『 housekeeping. 』#ok b rank sword is enough now reason next #( dragons are good at magic right— )#toaactivity

‘ Three’s a Crowd ‘

perfectionist-prince:

This was, perhaps, the closest taste of home Siegbert would get during his time at the academy.

That wasn’t to say that Nohr—Nohr’s underground, rather—was some uncouth hellhole filled with rapscallions and ruffians, but it certainly had its fair share of shenanigandary. Siegbert had witnessed more than one or two fights in his flights through the underground, accompanied by his aunt, who made him swear not to tell his father of its existence.

(He once watched a man who had just won a fight use the gold earned to buy a bouquet of flowers for his daughter. Even in the most uncivilized settings, humanity was nothing more than family looking for ways to show their love.)

The sight of men tearing each other apart for the entertainment of the masses was nothing like what he had seen in the past. It sent his stomach twisting into knots, lips turning down in a disappointed frown.

And then a far-too-friendly hand claps against his shoulder. He damn near throws a punch right then and there.

Siegbert turns his gaze down towards his fellow student. The other had to stretch to reach up and grab him like that; it was easy to remove the deer’s hand and, in a similar manner to Edelgard, drop it in front of him. Yes, Siegbert recognized him—only a member of the Golden Deer would dare to bring up such a scheme as this.

“I must agree with Lady Edelgard on this matter, Xane,” he speaks only once his house leader is finished. “Neither she nor I have need to test ourselves; we know our own mettle.”

Another glance around the room proves his suspicions—no one was here for fun. It was only for the money.

“Nevertheless, neither of us is exactly hard-pressed for gold. We’ve no need for gambling—is that why you’re here?”

@sennokao

Man, getting a rise out of these eagles was like trying to get a slab of stone to smile back! If he didn’t feel it in the way the imperial princess stuck up straight as a pencil beneath his arm, or in the bookish pinch of Siegbert’s fingers, he would have discovered it otherwise in their comically identical spiel. Were all the Black Eagle students this stiff and demoralizing? So nose-to-the-grindstone? The two of them look half-keen on handing him a lecture! While he didn’t care a whit for this land’s fancy names and allegiances, it makes him almost grateful for his delegation to the Golden Deer house.

The beginnings of a pout puckers his mouth until Xane sucks the feeling in, wearing an undefeated air of nonchalance as he’s often like to do.

“ Tsk. As if I’d stick my nose in a sweaty den of humans for that silly reason, Sigs! Nah, 'm just here to see what the commotion’s about, “ the jolly manakete loops his arms around his head, bouncing his gaze from one royal to another; quicker than quick is the clever glimmer of something alighting his eyes though it’s gone before long like the guttering tail-end of a firefly. “ —and more importantly, here I thought the two of you would have a bit more backbone. “

A slow smile crawls across his face: “ ...Between the princess of the Adrestian Empire and the prince of Nohr, that is. ”

There’s a wave of commotion towards the farther reaches of the room, though not by any means far from them. Xane trains his attention back on the tussling pugilists, gesturing to them at another turbulent roar of the audience. “ Of course, I can’t force you lot to get your hands dirty if ya don’t know how. Livin’ those nice and cushy lives in your little castles, it’s understandable, really. “

The dragon’s gaze returns to two eagles, their mischievous rubies bright and blaring—for all intents and purposes it’s as if Xane truly means it. Go home, if you haven’t got what it takes. “ Ya said challenging yourself is the way to knowing limits right, Edelgard? Well, here’s a crumb of advice to that. Most o’ the folk here ain’t innit for the money. So if you’re afraid you’ll chip a nail, go ahead. Scoot your royal tushies outta here. This place ain’t for you. “

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 edelgard; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 siegbert; 01. 』

eternity, in an instant.

seraphiia:

Though Celica has her answer, befuddlement comes to sit upon the arch of her brow. Odd phrasing, that. She can’t help but wonder what he would want to scope her out for—past being a resident of Archanea, and thus neighbor to her dear Valentia, she doesn’t believe they share much in common. And there was absolutely no possibility of him wanting to discuss politics or trade deals, so what…

Ah. “You know of Mother Mila?” The question leaves her before she realizes, and it isn’t until after she asks it does she realize how silly it sounds. According to the old scriptures, Mila and Duma once lived in Archanea, until a confrontation with Naga—the King of the Divine Dragons—sent them to Valentia’s shores. It only made sense that Archaneans would know of that history, too… especially when she considers the Mila idol erected in Furia Harbor. Even the people of that land seemed to hold a reverence for the Mother. Immigrants from Valentia, perhaps, or remnants from a lingering faith.

And just when she thinks she’s beginning to understand, thinking that Xane may perhaps be one of those remnants, he promptly turns her assumptions on their head. With his head, now shifted and transformed into an entirely different visage, yet still all too familiar…

“M-MOTHER MI—!?”

A name she reverently utters every morning and night, now garbled in a choked gasp as Celica recoils from the alarming sight, scrambling backwards and hitting her elbow against a supply crate in the process. She instinctually winces from the lance of pain that shoots up her arm, but can’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from Mila’s—or Xane’s—or… whoever’s face. But instead of verdant silk and warm eyes, deep ruby greets her once more, within them, firelight dancing with mirth.

He continues as if that hadn’t just transpired, and for the briefest of moments, Celica wonders if her lack of sleep has led her to hallucination. She stares at him wide eyed, curious about just much he knew regarding the Divine Dragons, and takes a calming breath in the period of silence that temporarily falls over them. He sits beside her, and finally, Celica manages to find her words again.

“…I would like to think I am, yes.” In spite of certain events, “I love the Divine Dragons. Mila and Duma both nurtured Valentia for so long, albeit in different ways. They’ve given so much to our people, our land. They certainly weren’t at their best, near the end… but I am still grateful for everything they’ve done for my home.”

She falls silent for a moment, pondering, before asking, “Xane. You seem to have a great deal of interest in Mila and Duma… you know much about them, too.” Not to mention the transformation, that she may or may not have hallucinated. “Just—who are you?”

That his fellow dragonkin should manifest in many different shapes, tempers, and elemental tribes amongst themselves, this Xane knows. Humanity coming in just as colorful and variegated an assortment of their kind shouldn’t surprise him either, but somehow it still does. For all the millennia he’s lived and breathed across the land known as Archanea, he can hardly name a single one that he’s spent upon its sibling across the sea. Valentia. That foreign territory, he’s then naturally led to believe, is far different from the one he’s been acquainted with since birth. Just like its humans.

During the quiet seconds ticking past his transformation, the queen’s round stare is magnified in a pale face still laden with shock. Xane watches her with smiling eyes as she steadies, not at her distress but at her predictability. Surprise is far from an uncommon reaction from those who observe his special talents, after all, and shapeshifting is more unseen than not even amongst the half-dozen dragon tribes, but there is one near unprecedented rarity of note in her attitude.

Even in Archanea the pockets of migrants trickled in from the sea have surprised him in that stead. Curious little settlements host to different peoples and beliefs, Xane has stumbled across a few during his admittedly endless time. Their present queen proves her similarities to the Valentian commonwealth through, as she says, her love for the divine dragons.

He hasn’t uttered a syllable throughout her explanation yet the manakete falls deeper in silence regardless. Frozen in not merely the inaction of his body, but an icy constriction of his features—eyes, nose, and mouth, sealed of warmth and expression. This look is not entirely for her; more the chasm of difference gaping between her single adoring opinion and the thousands of others, devoid of love, that persecuted his kinsmen. If Mila and Duma hadn’t given humans like Celica enough reason to kiss and peddle the ground they walked on, he might have coined her a liar.

The moment passes in a childish scoff, Xane returning to his illusive appearance of youth. “ Hah! You’re not the first human who’s asked me that, Celica. Guess that makes you the second. But ya know... You are the first I’ve met to ever openly admit to lovin’ us dragon folk. Them’s fightin’ words. No-one speaks of the dragonkin that way in Archanea, I can assure you that. “

He shifts to adopt a more informal position beside the human queen, propping up a knee as he flings a stray wedge of tinder back into the bonfire. Crimson eyes reflect the crackling flames, tinged glassy with a look of reflection. “ ...But to answer your question, I know em’ because Mila and Duma were once members of the divine dragon tribe—powerful dragons from Archanea who answered to Naga’s orders. The same tribe I’m a part of, see. ”

He pauses to tilt his head, angling to part the drape of red hair fallen thickly over his ear. A tapered lobe greets plain sight before it’s curtained once more. “ It goes without saying that I’m a divine dragon, too. Or used to be. I’m a manakete that can’t change back no more. This means I ain’t a divine dragon by your standards, and I certainly ain’t no god, so don’t you be getting any funny ideas. “

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 celica; 01. 』#seraphiia #a month late hooooo but i'm still as excited as ever !!#love me archavalenti interactions and dragon lore thrown in the mix?#sexiful beautiful wonderful #also hmmmm is it coincidence that xane and gotoh both assimilated into human society #AND cover their ears with their hair/turban?#i Think Not #.

She finds him in a tree of all places, giggling with delight even before she announces herself. It reminds her somewhat of the fable of the princess and the tower— and how odd that of the two of them, it’s Xane who plays the part of princess! It is a lonely role, as she well knows, so it naturally falls to her to bring him down from there—

“Xane!” She attempts to reach the branch he reclines upon; if she hops, her fingertips just barely brush the bark underneath. Oh, well; it doesn’t seem to dampen her spirit at all. “Xane, I have a present for you!”

A few steps taken back and a little blossom held up for him to see, notably within arm’s reach of the lounging lazybones. “It’s a good luck charm, so you can have it even if you don’t come down. But I’d be really happy if you did!”

Blunt, entirely useless nails. Heavy limbs. Wind in the hair and sunlight against far too fragile skin. To wear these accessories of humanity for his own brings a sensitive medley of differences. It’s at times like these where he half-misses the world that came before them. An old and primeval age where dragons walked a earth they owned and there was no need for their amulets—the dragonstones—to stave off the disease of their blood. Many have forgotten this memory and many more cannot claim to know it but not Xane.

As Gotoh once said in well-meaning advice, he who clings to the past will remember it forever; Xane remembers that saying, too.

His chest rises and falls beyond closed lids, gauging the breeze floating through the thin fibers of his clothes to be pleasantly temperate. Neither too hot nor too cold, it would have felt wonderful against his scales if he still had them. But before he can reminisce further, Xane flicks open an eye. Sensing a flicker of movement mere mites before the sound. Little miss Macedon. There’s no mistaking the bouncing red bob and infinitely good intentions. If humans had a scent born of their souls and not their bodies, this little one would smell of the same flower she extends him in offering.

The loafing shapeshifter shoots his visitor a toothy grin. “ ...Well! Since you asked so nicely, sure I’ll bite. Got an offering for a dragon, princess? “ he snaps back to alertness, slinging his legs over the side of the branch to hop down with nary a sound. Dropping a calculated hair before the girl’s nose, he skillfully plucks the blossom from her fingers and emulates an exaggerated sniff to make her giggle.

(he’s always been used to it, playing nice with the younglings)

“ Good luck charm, eh. That’s a nice thought, little robin. Can’t say we manaketes make use of em’ much, but guess what? Good ol’ Xane will make an exception for you! “ An affectionate smile hikes up the corners of his lips in a genuine expression and he ruffles the top of her hair. “ I’m happy that ya’ thought of me. Just make sure you’re thinkin’ of others too, alright? They could use this kind of thing more. “

#◦ ☻ : 『 HEY THERE PRINCEY! 』 askbox.#princessmacedon #shhhhh late but i care them v much :'^)#i appreciate that you left the ask vague enough sfjsnfs #rather than pre-event this can easily be academy marixane

𝑨𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝑨𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒌.

𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔

Pass / Fail

𝑺𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒔

Earned: +1

Previous: 6

Current: 7

𝑺𝒌𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝑷𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒕(𝒔) 𝑮𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏

1 sword point: C+ -> C+(1/2)

#◦ ☻ : 『 housekeeping. 』

TO THE SHADOWS, A PAEAN

ostianshadow:

Celica is fine (seen better days, but f i n e, still walking, still alive), and so Matthew takes his wordless leave. With healers on both sides, there needs to be some kinda give, else they’ll go back and forth like this forever – getting maimed and then patched back up, until one time a healer can’t get there in time, can’t possibly get to everyone in time. A battle of attrition where nobody wins.

And so the thief skulks about the battlefield, blade in his hands more comfortable now than at the beginning of the year but saint, he misses his daggers somethin’ fierce. He creeps betwixt battles seeking the right opportunities, when one presents itself:

the beast shambles before him, seemingly unawares as it focuses on someone else (Celica, that’s Celica again). He makes to strike again when the monster takes right off, charging for her and leaving him swiping at the air blinking at where its large body had been but half a second ago. Hopefully no one saw that.

He meets Kiran’s eyes, briefly. Ah.

Matthew quickly turns away, chin ducking into his scarf to hide the faint flush of embarrassment lightly warming his cheeks. The beast hadn’t been his true target anyway - rather, he’s still in search of that bishop…

Onward.

(Matthew misses SHADOW MONSTER & SHADOW DARK KNIGHT… doesn’t get attacked by anyone either though wheehaw)

@sennokao @kirablik

His successful assault on the shadow swordmaster is as much a victory as his pride can relish, but to survive he knows he has to keep moving. A good swordsman never stops his feet, or so the more experienced humans he’s known have had to say on the topic. This manakete, for one, is keen to follow sound advice. To the side, his eyes catch on another one of the shadowy foes—one of two pointed out by Micaiah and the window of opportunity becomes one he deftly takes.

Scurrying within range, he stabs the distracted knight before it can react, but he’s not quick enough to evade the blow of retaliation from one of its allies. The dark mage.

Xane lunges at the SHADOW DARK KNIGHT with his Killing Edge for -1.5HP. He's struck by SHADOW DARK MAGE for -1.5HP

“ Oof—! “ he stifles a grunt at the blast of magic against his vulnerable flank, nearly enough to snag his footing and send him tumbling. Xane holds his ground with a sword dug into the ground. Not out for the count just yet. It’s strange though, he thinks distantly; even when he’s getting hurt he has no thoughts about how much it stings. How much a sword tears into his skin like a rip of fangs from one of his degenerated kinsmen. Or how black magic eats at his flesh like bubbling floes of lava melting bedrock in the Flame Barrel.

No; with one eye on the enemy, the other on the allies that stand wary and alert or limp with injury at his hind, Xane thinks about what he can do next.

What he can do to help some humans that he’s known for a few weeks.

@seraphiia @ostianshadow @kirablik @frauleindermorgen

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 celica; 02. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 matthew; 03. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 kiran; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 micaiah; 01. 』#toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021

TO THE SHADOWS, A PAEAN

kirablik:

A sharp, shaky inhale. If they weren’t frozen, their arms might be trembling from holding this bow up so damn long. Whatever’s holding them in place—magic, it has to be magic, this entire world runs on magic being a hinderance in the worst possible times—hasn’t faded just yet. Or at all.

Xane hits. Micaiah sacrifices some of her health to heal Celica, only for Celica to lose it all again. Are the shadows targeting her? They must be. They’ve been aiming for Micaiah and Celica more often than Xane and Matthew. Was it a decision or was it just bad luck? Could be both. Doesn’t feel very random.

And Matthew—…

Oh. Yikes.

Kiran closes their eyes for a moment. They’ll just pretend they didn’t see that. For both of their sakes.

It happens in a rush that most humans couldn’t catch with their slow eyes. In the distance, Micaiah exuding a bright hum and aura of white magic, mending Celica to full health only for it to be shaved to slivers anew as the swordmaster strikes again. The sneak-thief, Matthew, flubs a strike meant for his enemy with fickle footing, and even the mysterious Kiran appraises the odds of their battlefield some ways behind them. Xane sees it all and most importantly, he sights a window of opportunity.

Fingers clench the pommel of his sword tighter at the shadow swordsman’s half-turned back. Vengeance isn’t really his thing, but some lives are simply meant to end. He was wronged by this particular adversary earlier, sure, but there was an ugly twist in his gut, too, when he saw Celica sunk to her knees. Xane doesn’t want to see or feel that again.

So time to die, big guy.

Xane takes advantage of the SHADOW SWORDMASTER's turned back and strikes for -1.5HP with his Killing Edge!

He deftly avoids all other damage.

He rushes in on a rapid patter of feet, slippery as an eel, and sticks the point of his blade into the swordsman’s torso. The same speed pulls him away before the shade can act to retaliate and for all its lack of emotion, Xane hopes that the blow had hurt.

@frauleindermorgen @seraphiia @kirablik @ostianshadow

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 celica; 02. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 kiran; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 micaiah; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 matthew; 03. 』#toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021

TO THE SHADOWS, A PAEAN

ostianshadow:

It doesn’t feel like they’re making any headway. If anything, he suspects they’re losing ground. But in the chaos of a melee, there’s nothing set in stone. The tide can shift at a moment’s notice, and if luck isn’t on your side… well, there’s nothing stopping ya getting caught up in the surf.

But so far, Matthew’s been lucky. He keeps moving - has to, even if hunkering down in a shadow unnoticed is more his speed - and scans the field. The other guys have a healer or two in their pocket, it seems, and logic follows that if he could just put an end to ‘em…

Using the hectic flow of battle as a cover, he sneaks up behind one and slices without mercy.

Matthew attacks SHADOW BISHOP with Killing Edge for -1.5HP. No one attacks him.

It doesn’t seem enough to finish them off. They’re so bloody resilient! What manner of creature are these terrible shadows? Surely they must be mortal, susceptible to death’s sweet embrace one way or another…

Matthew fades into the chaos again, biding his time, when he glimpses something near-fatal that stops him in his tracks.

“Celica!!” This can’t be happening.

@frauleindermorgen @sennokao @kirablik

Magic came from the spirits proclaimed Gotoh to mankind, but old, old Xane knows the truth. It came from the teachings of their fellow dragons. And when Celica harnesses the power of the dragonkin—the warm thrum of healing magic to stitch together skin and edges once torn asunder—the feeling reminds him sorely of home. Or maybe it’s just his newly healed wound that feels sore. Either way Xane keeps still, even surprisingly docile, as the Valentian queen finishes her work before returning to his usual bluster.

“ —Heh... Don’t have to tell me twice, girly! “ Xane quickly turns his back on the other out of embarrassment, a hand waving whimsically in the air. “ Ain’t too many of us dragonkin left, but there’s only one of me in the whole wide world! I won’t be dying on ya just yet. “ And don’t you be dying on me either, presses the final serious look he casts over his shoulder at Celica before rejoining the battle.

Celica heals Xane for +6HP. No one attacks him.

Xane attacks SHADOW SWORDMASTER with Killing Edge for -1.5HP.

Diving right back into the fray, he scopes out the same swordmaster that nipped him earlier. Sweet revenge calls his name. Darting in for a sly blow, he sweeps his killing edge across its back and satisfies himself with the strange flickering in the shade’s form, as if it were assaulted by pain. What comes around goes around! He won’t linger long enough to see the favor returned though, and he turns to find another weaker enemy.

There—the heinous, shadowy beast in the swarm of enemies! The call of his name flips his head to the side and he gives a curt nod to Kiran. Rallied again; hopefully he’ll give the guy his money’s worth. The manakete curls his knees and pounces, digging his blade into the juncture between the monster’s neck and shoulder before jumping away. Nasty stuff. The thing’s not down for the count quite yet though.

Rallied by Kiran, Xane attacks the SHADOW MONSTER with Killing Edge for -1HP.

No one attacks him.

“ Heh-heh, how ya like that! Doesn’t feel too good, huh? ” Xane crows with celebratory joy though his hoots and hollers of victory soon ebb to silence. When he next looks back to his allies, it’s to the sight of a particularly crumpled form in the distance. A familiar albeit now disheveled spill of fiery locks across the ground. Huh? That wasn’t right... When he had last seen her, the woman was... “ —Shit! “ flies his curse, a grit of teeth as he digs his heels into the ground to prevent from turning his back on the enemy. Ahead, the shadow beast crawls back to its feet. “ Someone who knows magic, the girly needs—Celica needs healing! “

@frauleindermorgen @ostianshadow @seraphiia @kirablik

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 kiran; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 celica; 02. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 micaiah; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 matthew; 03. 』#toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021

TO THE SHADOWS, A PAEAN

seraphiia:

There’s hardly any time to process their situation before they’re back on the road again, answering an urgent summons from Garreg Mach. With everyone healed by the sudden reveal of Rion’s Faith magic (odd that he doesn’t bring it up until now, though she supposes he had ample reason not to use it before), they gear up and head back to the monastery. Upon arriving, the sounds of battle are already there to greet them…

Kiran immediately jumps into action, dispensing orders to those in their immediate vicinity. She has no issue with it. An army had tacticians for a reason—they were the ones who could best formulate and strategize, putting each combatant where they were most needed. If it was best for her to take up the rear, then she had no complaints. “Understood!”

Celica’s unsheathing her sword when she feels a light nudge at her shoulder, glancing up towards a familiar face. Even in the heat of battle, Matthew still has the capacity to make light of her earlier blunder, the memory sending a flush of shame to her cheeks. But there is good intent in his well wishes, and so she extends the same courtesy. “Oh, it’ll be difficult, but I’ll try not to.” She smiles, “You hang in there as well. Be careful!”

And with that, he’s off, leaving Celica to hold up the rear with Micaiah. Matthew lunges for the Dark Knight. Kiran is blast by a potent dark spell, and Micaiah is as well—clearly, the mages would be a particularly foul thorn in their side.

Celica attacks the SHADOW SWORDMASTER for -1HP! No one attacks her!

But despite their injuries, her comrades continue to fight, and Celica quickly joins them in the fray. She grips the hilt of Beloved Zofia and charges for the swordmaster, striking him with an upward swing. No blood is drawn, no lacerations left in its wake; only a gilded blade, cleaving through shadow.

Celica is healed for +1HP by Beloved Zofia. (Celica’s HP: 10/10)

Tough luck strikes again, seemingly bout after bout.

Though they managed to escape the prison, it’s worse to worst and little old Xane finds himself in the thick of new fighting before he can lament his fate! He hasn’t even had the time to scope out the strongest, burliest looking fighters in the group, but fortunately there’s a few gems right within arm’s reach. He notes them all with a mischievous glint in the eye—Valentian queen, sneak-thief, mage, and last but not least, a enigmatically hooded mystery of an individual. Xane didn’t know their claim to glory just yet, but as they say the truly strong hide their strength!

(He stows away that knowledge for later)

For now, a trusty sword will have to do. Too bad he doesn’t have his fangs and claws anymore strikes the fleeting thought before he darts forward with a quick swipe of metal.

“ Stay together, you say? Sure thing, you’re the chief! “ Xane yells to the tactician at their hind, feeling the warm hum of their rally spells. He’s no master swordsman but his blade strikes true with a bit of help, digging into the bishop for a nasty blow. Heh, that’s sure to hurt, the manakete smirks—but before he can revel in his triumph one of the shade’s allies deals him just as sorry of a hand.

Xane attacks SHADOW BISHOP for -1.5HP

SHADOW SWORDMASTER retaliates for -4.5HP.

The dangerous slice of the swordmaster’s sword sends him sprawling with a yelp, blood gushing through the gaps of his fingers as he holds his hand to his flank. Guts? Guts? Xane panics and looks down, seeing only a vivid blossom of red through his shirt. Good, at least he’s still in one piece, but pain and anger—and maybe even a bit of embarrassment—makes for a fiery concoction. He quickly gets to his feet and shakes his other fist, waving his killing edge in the air. “ Hey, hey, I get that the sword is your third arm or whatever, but no need to rub it in! “

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 celica; 02. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 kiran; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 micaiah; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 matthew; 03. 』#toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021

YOU GUYS WANNA START A FIGHT?! [Unlocked Open]

atypicalsenerio:

amnesiac-pawn:

The plan was bare at best. Start a fight rambunctious enough to draw out the Big Guys. Create a commotion, a distraction. That’s it. That’s all they had.

Morgan just didn’t expect Soren to quite literally pick someone at random. (It’s so, so hard not to laugh.)

Might as well make things worse.

“Like you’re one to talk, Soren!” The shorter mage whirls around to stare at him, and Morgan continues on—finally getting a chance to use his height to his advantage.

“Don’t give me that look! Everyone sees you—you keep bragging about how well you clean the bathrooms, but then you never restock the soap! People have to go work on food prep after doing their business and their hands are all gross! It’s disgusting! That’s probably why people keep getting sick from the food!”

(I’m so sorry, Soren, Morgan thinks.)

Soren’s eyes flare with (faux) anger. Chest puffing out, he gets right up in Morgan’s face, lifting himself up onto his tiptoes to try and shorten the height difference between them.

“How dare you accuse me of such an oversight! If there’s never soap, blame our short supply of it! It’s not my fault everyone in the mines are so dirty I can’t keep it stocked!”

Morgan scoffs. “Oh, right, blame the miners—at least they’re doing the important work around here instead of playing maid!”

And Soren rolls his eyes, a sneer drawing across his face, “Idiots. I think the real reason there’s no addresses on anything in shipment is because none of you can read!”

Oh.

Oh, now it was personal. Soren was smart enough to know that that was over the line—insult just about anything, but Morgan’s intelligence? His ability to read? Fake prison riot or not, that was a low blow.

Branded hands find themselves grasping at the front of Soren’s tunic. Morgan lifts the (incredibly lightweight, what the hell does this guy eat?) mage from the ground and promptly throws him against the nearest table with a loud crash. Tableware and cutlery go flying; food splatters across more than just one person’s lap.

One prisoner leaps to their feet and grabs Morgan’s arms, restraining them behind his back. A hissed warning to calm down; Morgan tries to shake the prisoner off, but these mage arms are weak and do little. The prisoner easily secures their hold once more.

The other prisoners stare in silence, almost uninterested. Talk about a tough crowd.

Soren had expected violence, but landing on the table still legitimately knocked the wind out of him. He wheezed, cups and trays splattering under him and skidding across the table. His tunic was soaked through in the back and honestly, that throw was either strong acting or he had gotten a little under Morgan’s skin.

Well, it was the results that mattered.

A prisoner had managed to restrain Morgan (why had mages agreed to this, why) and Soren’s mind raced. He could only bank on Morgan at the moment to keep the flames going, so he had to be freed immediately.

“HE’S MINE!” Soren reached for a plate of what he was reasonably sure was spaghetti and in one motion slammed the wooden plate against the prisoner’s head, grateful that Morgan was let loose by it.

A few noises from around the room indicated that the other prisoners were finally starting to pay attention, and Soren hurriedly stood up on his table, kicking aside a glass right onto a prisoner’s lap. “Yeah?!” His tone was solid but pitched slightly up at the end, unused to shouting in such circumstances. He was addressing Morgan, but his voice carried, getting gruffer and angrier as the insults came. “Come and get it, you hedge-born bespawler!”

Finally, a prisoner got riled up enough to give in. The person who Soren had kicked a full glass of water onto took a swing at his legs and missed, and Soren spat in reaction in his direction, not managing to hit, but the gesture was clear.

One engaged, more to go.

@sennokao joins the fight!

King Naga above, what’s all this commotion?

The sound of yelling in the cafeteria—human quarreling and trouble—is a sound draw for the prisoners’ attention and an absolute magnet for Xane’s. He gleefully slinks his way closer towards the heart of the action where he’s met with the surprising sight of Soren, his teammate from earlier, expressing his bone to pick with a burly prisoner. A part of him didn’t think the guy had it in him, but it doesn’t take long to figure out the catch.

A young mage from a different sector soon joins him and insults and bodies alike take to the air, uncharacteristically aggressive. An act—Xane knows this trade well, so he watches as Morgan hurls the lighter man onto the table with a crash of plates and harsh screech of table legs. Sounds coursing through the entire room. Ouch. From one glass cannon to another, Xane feels himself smarting for the poor guy...

Sympathy won’t give them the best shot at deception, though. Don’t these human know they need to do more? Enough for this audience to call for an encore! Smiling devilishly, he makes his way to the fore of the table within earshot of the spectators, and cups his mouth for a sly remark to instigate them further: "Nice act you two clowns got going! Trying to cover up for the fact ya infiltrated kitchen and spit in the food?"

It was a perfect scheme from the experienced pages of Xane’s own ledger. How else to incite an angry mob of prisoners than the suggestion of sabotage? Ruin the only thing they have to look forward after a long and unappreciated day of menial labor and surely they’ll rise to protest the injustice!

(Sadly, for Xane, none of the prisoners react to his taunts. They just keep watching like it’s some show...)

A sound plan more soundly ignored; an angry vein pulses on the side of the manakete’s temple. Oh, he’s invested now.

@amnesiac-pawn

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 morgan; 01. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 soren; 03. 』#amnesiac-pawn #atypicalsenerio #toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021

sennokao

Another teammate he knew little about. Soren approached with business in mind, ready to mentally sort Xane into his mental files of the group's abilities. "You- assigned to the Leicester border. What is your specialty in battle, what do you contribute here? I am Soren, one of our team's tacticians and mages."

...Huh? It takes him a moment to realize that he’s being spoken to. The speaker in question, an unknown man sidling up to him with a smart look of business.

Sure his way of address is cut straight to the chase and vaguely rude, but otherwise Xane doesn’t think much of him until he shoots him a better look. It’s hard to miss—the long black hair like a raven and unnatural crimson eyes. The strange mark on his forehead. A bizarre-looking human, provides his mind at the sight of him, but there’s something else about the tactician that he can’t quite put a finger on.

(Like he doesn’t feel completely human.)

He squints, then shrugs off the feeling once he’s realized his staring has drawn on for too long. Xane concludes that he likes the guy already. “ ...I get that ya wanna know things, but ain’t it custom to ask the name of who yer’ talkin’ to first, shortie? “ Shortie says the name-calling manakete despite the single glaring similarity between them; both men weren’t exactly close to reaching for the stars.

He of course ignores that part. A soul who so clearly likes the sound of his own voice won’t stop just there either and so Xane grins from ear-to-ear, jabbing an overly friendly elbow into the robed man’s side. “ But whatever, I’ll tell ya! Truth is, I’m a shapeshifter. Got me the rare ability to turn into just about anyone. It helps me to scrape by in any situation and fight like a champ, too. Pretty game-changing, eh? “

sennokao

atypicalsenerio:

Soren couldn’t place the man’s accent, but the mystery of him didn’t stop there. It seemed he wanted to toy with him. Well, he could play a little. “Shortie, me? Am I not average for a teenage boy?”

He was short. But.

“If you’re not just a liar, then why don’t you transform into someone else right now? Someone taller, for instance.” Soren looked at his nails. Something was… off… about this man, but his skepticism still oozed from every word. “Prove it- if your ability is as you say, we could have quite a partnership.”

And if there was a true shapeshifter in their midst, Soren wasn’t going to rest easy. The possibilities during an already tense situation, both a boon and a curse.

Call it intuition, but Xane would say that average and teenage-boy were two descriptors that didn’t quite mix with this one. The qualities were like oil and water when used to describe a fellow so articulate with his words, and equipped with a peculiar aura to boot. He’s still not able to shake the feeling. That there was more to this alleged tactician than met the eye.

But, first; to be called a liar? Him, the great and infinitely talented Xane? He shrugs at the prickling accusation, though otherwise loosens up with a crack of his knuckles. A stretch and twist of his neck from side-to-side. “ Well, sonny... Since you asked so nicely... I’ll oblige! Try this on for size. And try not to gape. “

He’ll put his money where his mouth is, starting with what he assumes to be a recognizable face around the academy:

(Plenty recognizable to Xane, too!)

A surge of air buffets their feet owed to the kinetic energy of his transformation—his form shifting quick as a blink into a taller form, or at least one princelier. Round eyes set in an elegant face peer down at the tactician, vivid blue hair tickling between them. Complete with the essentials vital to this particular mimicry: a shiny artifact perched atop the dome.

Xane flicks his pointer finger against the tiara. “ ...How about it? If ya still ain’t convinced, I could throw you another ball. As many as you want. Though I’ll warn ya, I’m only able to mimic humans I’ve seen at least once before. This goes for other beasties, too. “

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 soren; 01. 』#atypicalsenerio #ngl i was gonna have xane take on ike's appearance LMAO #the only problem is that xane hasn't met ike yet #marth though :)#next time soren you'll have your Heart Attack #toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021

hungrymage:

Food Vibes

>starter for: @sennokao

ϟ–Hours drag by staring at the same expanse of blue veined wall. Not actual hours, because she definitely would have fainted if she went that long without eating.

Closer to thirty minutes must have passed, because the growling in her tummy can no longer be ignored. Setting down her chisel, Ilyana whispers that she’s leaving for the kitchens to Micaiah…and simply leaves the mines. No one attempts to stop her. Good. Out of control magic or not, she’d zap whoever dared get in the way of her food. Forcing her to work…denying proper nourishment…how can they expect people to work in these conditions?

Thunder mage wanders back to the cafeteria, finding a new creation awaiting her. A guard thrusts a bowl of…cereal at her. Lavender eyes stare at the goop sitting in the dish. One tiny spark of thunder attempts to dance along her fingertips in anger. It manages one satisfying little jump before going haywire, climbing her wrist and fizzling out against her skin.

Ilyana sighs, plopping down at a table. She stirs the spoon in the slop, almost wishing it was moldy blueberries instead. No…she’d willingly eat the moldy fruit again. Anything would be better than the tasteless gruel prisons seem so fond of.

She forces down a bite, regretting the slimy feel of the stuff as it slides down her throat. Face screwed up in abject distaste, she recognizes one of her table mates. “Oh…hello, Xandinho…this food is awful…”

For all the dozens of millennia that have passed for Xane, he can safely conclude that time has never felt as slow as it does now. Locked in such close quarters with the humans with nothing to do save work and worry, it’s practically a living hell on earth! Sure, there’s at least one comfort to be had; so far as he can see, everyone here is in the same boat.

But following the status quo isn’t his sort of thing. And mopping the floors or squeezing a rag between the filthy crevices of the lavatory definitely isn’t, either.

So he slips away from his team. Slinking off to the more accommodating environment of the cafeteria, he enters through the doorways and slides into the nearest vacant seat, shifting back from the rugged-faced prisoner whose appearance he borrowed. The newfound sense of peace and quiet is immediate. No-one barking orders or telling him to do this or that; only the muted sounds of munching and sloshing grub prevails. Much better—

‘Oh…hello, Xandinho…this food is awful…‘

Xandinho? Xane blinks at the sleepy voice, recognizing the girl beside him as one of his allies. A particularly unique one at that, with a constantly warring attitude towards her appetite. Although, he can say that in terms of idiosyncrasies he’s seen worse so the manakete doesn’t bat an eye. “ Hey there, purple-nurple, “ he says, leaning over with an elbow on the girl’s shoulder. “ How’s the menu? ”

Unpromising. The observation is promptly followed by a pluck of her spoon as he uses it to poke at the gruel. “ ...Yuck. They’re sure cutting corners with these meals, huh! You really gonna eat that? I’d chance my luck with the prison rats if I were you. “

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 ilyana; 01. 』#toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021 #hungrymage #XANDINHO #xane is gonna let her believe what she wants to believe NSJGBSJGSG

rub-a-dub-dub

ostianshadow:

atypicalsenerio

Soren looked like he’d been there all his life. He had the same blank is not scowling expression manner prisoners had, and he did his work mostly in silence, dragging a mop bucket with a caddy of cleaning brushes and scrubbers attached to it through every common area’s hallway and around the cafeteria and bathrooms.

He was, however, not giving up.

His open ears just picked up very little of anything that was useful.

Xane, however, didn’t seem to grasp the situation. Or he did, but not as well as Soren would have liked.

Soren kept mopping the hall outside the bathroom while Xane suggested taking a break. “Walls have ears,” he reminded him, with a wet splat of the mop on the floor. They were the ears as well, but Soren did not want to get outwitted by this enemy again. “It can be safe to assume they have eyes in more places than the towers and mirrors. Keep your head down, and don’t seem too attached to anyone.”

For Soren, it wasn’t much trouble. For more social members of their group, he imagined such a dimming of spirit and muffling of life was going to take some getting used to. Enough of his life had been spent working without friends for him to mind. At least they had a goal set before them.

“I’ll take the lavatories across the hall.”

Soren was so deeply on autopilot that he knocked out of consideration to check for anyone inside. When there was no reply, he let himself into the sector, mopping every stall and around the sinks with systematic efficiency, still listening hard for anything.

It occurred to him that he had just tried to eavesdrop on an empty bathroom and he grimaced.

Well… he was doing a job right.

@ostianshadow

He whistled as he worked, mask of optimism carefully crafted. It might have suited him better to blend with the crowd as was his typical wont, but any which direction he looked here there was no crowd - just the surly tactician who’d approached him back at the monastery, and the … Matthew didn’t know how to describe Xane, come to think of it.

Scrubbing idly at a sink, he gave pause upon catching his bracelet out of the corner of his eyes.

“Hey there, friend,” he’d greeted Rion brightly after another teammate had taken their leave. Stood nearby, Matthew took to a potato and started to peel - wouldn’t do to keep idle hands, it seemed! Not that he was staying here overlong, given he was due to be off cleaning, but even just half a moment oughta be all right…

“Hope you’re not too tired of our questions… You might find us a rather inquisitive group, I’m afraid.” How long that would keep up given the current morale remained to be seen. “But I was curious about our overseers, if you had a minute… these Big Guys of yours…”

Rion had been in the prison ‘a long time,’ apparently. Enough to have seen the Big Guys in person - dressed head to foot in armour, with helmets that obscured their faces completely… And then those thundersticks the boy had mentioned before, those featured consistently as well. Sometimes, Rion said, they would peek in after new arrivals briefly, or to break up fights…

Furrow in his brow, Matthew switched arms and kept scrubbing. At the least, with all the people here conscripted to work, it wasn’t super caked on but even so…

He wanted to grimace, but kept on whistling. So they came in if people caused enough of a commotion, huh… But those shocksticks… Not to mention the monastery crew’s magic working haphazardly at best…

Not the greatest of assets to work with here.

“Y’ever seen anyone try an’ make it out of here?” Matthew asked, finishing with his potato.

“Only in body bags,” Rion had answered.

Matthew sucked in a shallow breath, then picked himself up. “All done in here!” he called to his partners with a shake of his head. “Man, where is everyone… The gossip here is absolutely garbage.”

@sennokao

Xane’s ever so helpful suggestion to rest their feet is more-or-less turned down by the team’s resident tactician. All business and no play makes for one unhappy dragon indeed, but he knows the other strikes a fair point. Sure, he’ll hum and drum and complain but when push comes to shove, he’s not exactly eager to lose his 4,000-year-old hide in such a dinky place. He’ll follow Soren’s advice for now.

The manakete shrugs and gives a begrudging salute, returning to his ‘work’ as the younger man slinks off to tend to another area.

“ Aye-aye, captain! “

In the meanwhile and in another sector of the lavatories, Matthew calls out to report the progress of his work. Xane answers back as he weaves his way through the stalls, leisurely kicking them open to observe the contents inside—grim-faced to the sights of nothing, nothing, and more nothing. Garbage, as the other man notes, is absolutely right. “ Nothing to hear on your end, huh? Too bad there’s nothin’ ta’ see here, either... “

He gives an irritated frown, dragging his eyes over the sterile walls and the featureless ceilings. No grates. Nothing, no pockets meant to hide secrets. He considers crouching down on his knees to observe the undersides of the toilets then shoves the thought aside; Xane isn’t that desperate. Yet. “ —I guess the saying holds true. Don’t shit where ya eat. Humans won’t put their valuable secrets in such a dump, either. “

So where would they put them, begs the silent question. Or are they just missing some vital detail in here?

...Man, his brain hurts. Better leave that sort of heavy-lifting to the fatter noggins! Walking out of a stall with a finger itching behind his head, Xane returns to his mop; an illusion of work to cover other thoughts. As much as their group owes to the guy, a part of the former dragon can’t help but doubt Rion. He’s got some habits and the habit of unconditional trust, at least, isn’t one of them—most humans aren’t trustworthy. In his book, time alone will tell whether Rion actually is.

@atypicalsenerio

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 soren; 02. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 matthew; 02. 』#atypicalsenerio #ostianshadow

rub-a-dub-dub

It’s a comical sight at what most would likely consider the worst of times.

All these humans decked in identically drab grey attire from top to bottom, the most miserable looks crawling across their faces as they huddle together like sheep in a corral. Unknown to the factors of how, why, and where they are as they gauge their foreign environment. Xane would laugh but after being jostled through the same ordeal—wearing the same hideous clothes and standing in the same sterile cement cage—his laughter doesn’t have quite enough air to take flight.

Frankly? He’s not laughing now, either. After their introduction to Rion, their escape from the cell-block and the blatant change of scenery to follow, he considers himself placed in more harrowing circumstances than ever before.

Xane is put to work.

Custodial duty at that. Worst of the worst! The stench of the lavatories is even fouler on a manakete’s discernibly more sensitive nose and it’s taken a hearty push from his teammates to push him through the same doorway. Xane has considered transforming into a guard to escape the clutches of duty, but by the point it’s a good deal too late.

That aside—the Soren fellow he’s met earlier looks as if he’d smite him down for shapeshifting even a single hair out of place. Matthew looks a bit friendlier but last he heard, this human was a spy and true to the profession man’s probably a talented snitch.

So for the most part, he behaves like a good little dragon; whistles, rubs his soapy sponge across a dirty basin. Piping up only when the last prisoner finishes up his business and leaves the room. When the silence of boring work grinds his gears a bit too much. “ ...Hey you two, I’m pretty beat. How long do ya think we hafta’ stay cleaning this dump? Ain’t no-one keepin’ watch over us, y’know, I’m sure we could sneak away for a lil’ break... “

@atypicalsenerio , @ostianshadow

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#◦ ☻ : 『 soren; 02. 』#◦ ☻ : 『 matthew; 02. 』#toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021

cellblock tango, pt 4.

boundlesshart:

“You think they’d have some way of watching us from somewhere else?”

The thought makes Claude shudder. Imprisonment… well, safe to say that it doesn’t suit him. Not at all. Sharing this tight cell with three other people is making him claustrophobic. Claude presses himself against the prison bars, taking deep breaths as he keeps his gaze firmly to the space outside of the cell. If only to forget the true size of the room he is stuck in.

Claude should have a plan to get himself back on track. And if not, well, he can make one. This is no time for panicking, and Claude isn’t one to panic. They just need to get out of here… preferably in the next hour rather than next week.

He pushes his hands out of the bars again, until the bars press against his elbows. “Here’s another option, though I can’t say it’s as straightforward. I’m getting pretty good at the Rescue spell. The way it works is that I can summon another person to me, the spell itself naturally uses the shortest distance to that. Someone next door might just end up in our cell–” And gods know how much Claude wants to avoid that, “but someone over there,” he nods to the second cell with Marianne and the others, “if I Rescue them, they should land outside of the cell.”

More times than he’d like to admit, Xane has come to know a cold prison cell like the back of his hand. Normally he’d say there’s just no helping it, but that’s only his excuse, really. Talk the talk as much as he does and there’s always a human bound to get offended that he won’t go their way, or lend his exceptional talents for their cause. At least the key difference this time is that it isn’t his big mouth at fault.

No-one could have predicted the ambush and the lack of foresight lands them all in a cage. Xane’s used to consequences of the nature though, and while his teammates gnaw on their worries, chew nails down to their beds and exchange formulas for escape in low, harsh whispers fraught with anxiety, the manakete kicks back and watches the show.

He stretches his mouth in a cavernous yawn as the princess, Elincia she’s called, suggests using her hairpin to pick their way out. Scratches at an itchy spot behind his ear as the thief-looking man named Matthew answers—ahh, much better—then rolls over, using his arm as an ad hoc pillow as the Claude fellow sells his attempt at a plan. Like a village urchin counting sheep before bed, counts the stains of blood crosshatched across the stone walls as chaos sounds in the cell over.

Someone, somewhere, got hurt.

It has little to do with Xane.

The princess who spoke first doesn’t seem to think that of herself. He turns back over curiously at the sounds of magic, watching as her hands forge a long-distance healing spell. “ —why waste your energy when we can just wait, rich girl? “ Xane cuts in at the sight, back turned anew and hand waving in the air. “ Whoever threw us in here, alive, is bound to want something from our lot. We’ll know soon enough. Once they figure out one of their tools has been damaged, they’ll come inspect the problem. That sorry fellow will be okay. “

Wait, says the manakete, who very much intends to memorize the face of whoever steps before the door. Scribe their face to memory even once and he’ll make it his. All part of the plan! Use a guard’s appearance and these shut doors will open like his hundred opportunities, even if they might stay closed for the rest of them.

(still, he might lend them a hand; the humans aren’t so bad—a few have taught him that)

@amicitium

#◦ ☻ : 『 BOO! DID I SCARE YA? 』 writing.#toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021 #amicitium #ostianshadow #boundlesshart

Another teammate he knew little about. Soren approached with business in mind, ready to mentally sort Xane into his mental files of the group's abilities. "You- assigned to the Leicester border. What is your specialty in battle, what do you contribute here? I am Soren, one of our team's tacticians and mages."

...Huh? It takes him a moment to realize that he’s being spoken to. The speaker in question, an unknown man sidling up to him with a smart look of business.

Sure his way of address is cut straight to the chase and vaguely rude, but otherwise Xane doesn’t think much of him until he shoots him a better look. It’s hard to miss—the long black hair like a raven and unnatural crimson eyes. The strange mark on his forehead. A bizarre-looking human, provides his mind at the sight of him, but there’s something else about the tactician that he can’t quite put a finger on.

(Like he doesn’t feel completely human.)

He squints, then shrugs off the feeling once he’s realized his staring has drawn on for too long. Xane concludes that he likes the guy already. “ ...I get that ya wanna know things, but ain’t it custom to ask the name of who yer’ talkin’ to first, shortie? “ Shortie says the name-calling manakete despite the single glaring similarity between them; both men weren’t exactly close to reaching for the stars.

He of course ignores that part. A soul who so clearly likes the sound of his own voice won’t stop just there either and so Xane grins from ear-to-ear, jabbing an overly friendly elbow into the robed man’s side. “ But whatever, I’ll tell ya! Truth is, I’m a shapeshifter. Got me the rare ability to turn into just about anyone. It helps me to scrape by in any situation and fight like a champ, too. Pretty game-changing, eh? “

#◦ ☻ : 『 HEY THERE PRINCEY! 』 askbox.#toaunlocked2021 #unlockedleicesterborder2021 #atypicalsenerio #i see a frenemy tom and jerry relationship in the works #they're like night and day SKFNSJBFSG #both being inhuman tho :thoughtful: :conceited:

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