WAYWARD.

resident of Abyss graphics credit: sara

[shadoll]

OOC. over the next few days, i will be answering every ask in my inbox i was not able to get to on time. any unfinished ethereal ball interactions waiting on my end will also be answered through june, but if you'd prefer to drop them, please feel free to let me know! likewise, you are welcome to continue anything or reply if you have an interest in doing so.

i hope everyone had fun this year and thank you to each person that took the time to write with and indulge my girlie's antics :heart_hands:

[shadoll]

THE DETAILS IN THE DEVIL. ⟡

Mission Board: Herald

[shadoll]

Delivered overnight, the plain-looking letter addressed to him read exactly as penned: I have proof of what you did yesterday. Meet me at the Amiibo Gazebo or else.

Unnatural fog chokes the standing structure already framed within four well-tended square hedges, wrapping it in a dense smoke Salem should recognize as arcane magic by instinct if sight fails him. She drums her fingers against a stationary column, idling beneath one of the uniform archways to keep him in suspense while he should attempt to gather Sara's identity after the effort she went to staging this whole production.

For at least several more days, the Church would be preoccupied cleaning up after another Ethereal Ball and choosing to pander to guests staying longer than their welcome, which provided a decent window for generally frowned on forms of entertainment.

Strangers from afar who leave the residents of the monastery puzzled for no reason other than being novel and unfamiliar are rarely anything worth setting aside precious time for, but he sat closer to friend than acquaintance, a shadow of shared past that positioned himself in the corner of her life. Sara was wise enough to know Salem has even less future prospects than she does.

There's no stakes for Sara beyond a little victimless fun and Salem will forgive her. He can never be truly cruel, not like others may be inclined to.

"I was aware you might ignore my invitation, so thank you for coming in the end."

The dark cloud quivers, but doesn't show signs of clearing, her voice warbled and warped. A vague silhouette laughs opposite him, breathing softly.

"Do not worry. I intend to answer all the questions you must have. Out of fairness, I'll allow you to ask any of them, however only if you're willing return the favor."

@extenebris

[dcggersedge]

i'm with you in the dark

[dcggersedge]

"Well, yeah…" she looks fine, no bumps or bruises or scratches or wounds that Yunaka can see at a quick glance at least, unless she's got things she's keeping hidden out of sight. She can tell that when it comes to the phyiscal at least, Sara is fine.

And she's still somewhere within the school grounds. That's…good, at least? Unless she's lying. Yunaka is pretty confident that she has not seen Sara around anywhere, and while the place is big, it's not so big that somebody could manage to live here without being spotted by someone else at least once. Right? Right. She's pretty confident in that.

Sara has no reason to lie to her either though…And though the question sits on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be asked, she can't bring herself to do so.

"Why?" It's a fair question. A starving girl had asked the same through bared teeth and desperation, hands clenched tightly around a knife she didn't know yet how to use. There had been differences though. She'd never mistaken the heavy leash around her neck for care.

Yunaka has no real reason to care. There's no connection between them. Only the strong survive, and Sara is strong, she has seen no reason to believe otherwise. If this was a different time, a different place, she would be left on her own with her fate in her hands.

But they're here, and not there, so Yunaka just scoffs at the question. "And? You don't have to pull me into anything for me to worry. I'm allowed to worry just because I know you, that's all it takes."

[shadoll]

It's an easy question to forget to ask in the chaos of relocation. Sara has always been happy to be proven wrong, to be challenged by and exposed to different perspectives, but her mind momentarily stutters while every effortless answer waits in the wings

"There's not much in it for you," she clarifies, pragmatic, and not only for Yunaka's sake. Sara doesn't want to be in her debt. "I do realize I can't stop you from worrying though, especially knowing the Church tried to cover up the incident. Not that I really understand why myself."

Again, they return to the same impasse, the one after Garreg Mach fell, and they agreed to disagree. But concessions can be made for the right people. Yunaka doesn't seem willing to budge on the matter and trying to convince her would be a waste of energy.

"If you want to help so bad, then lend me your eyes and ears. Listen where I can't and share anything of interest you happen to hear."

Trust settles in the gaps where fatigue shows. No matter how fascinating she found Abyss, the first week had been taxing on her body and mind, a test of endurance after a long, dream-like period of being spoiled under the sun.

A subtle tension leaves her, shoulders relaxing involuntarily, "…I would appreciate that."

[diadic]

    “The true me?” Leif parrots. “Is that the voice you hear when you listen to me, Sara??” To an outside observer, the question might seem asinine or redundant, but he trusts Sara knows what he means even if he struggles to fully articulate it clearly. Though he's been seduced by the girl's gift for perceiving others' souls, their very hearts, he hardly understood it enough to relay it to another.

He'd asked her about it once, asked for it in more detail, but the topic remains somewhat elusive even after all that.

“If you ask me, I don't really know the 'true' me...” Leif frowns as he falls into deep thought. “But I at least have an idea of what people want of me. Though it's easier to know when someone's mad...”

Asbel had wanted a Leif who had thought of him every day and walked the same roads as him. Princess Miranda had wanted a Leif who had never come to her home, a Leif who atoned for all she had lost to let him stand. Finn wanted a man who carried the dreams of Prince Quan.

And Nanna...

“...though I never found out what you want from me, Sara. Is the 'true' me it?”

[shadoll]

Sara starts to open her mouth, then closes it, peering into Leif's eyes. The precious, almost desperate way he often hung on her every word looked an awful like devotion in some lights. Blood had granted her power and prestige, the sort people trip over themselves to obtain, but he sees hope instead, salvation in the balm of her voice. So yes, she wants the messiest, most human version him. She wants to spare him the lonely reality of total self-demolition following a scripted fate written for him.

"You are free to think that," she finally settles on in answer. "But honestly, what I want doesn't matter as much as you believe. I like who you are now and will accept whoever you become. Rather than concerning yourself with fictional expections, you should pursue your own happiness."

A warm sigh escapes, ghosting her lips and disappearing through the air.

"Keep an open mind. Though you may struggle to recognize the shape, it is worth finding, I promise. What people desire, even you, can change one moment to the next. To live is to swallow the very nature of uncertainty and brave the endless possibilties each day brings."

[fellsparks]

clipped wings

cont from here

[fellsparks]

Free while beholden to others, hm? By that logic, perhaps Nel's freedom isn't fully her own; but to love and to be loved is an experience unlike any other, this she knows well. The heart is a fickle thing, and sometimes it speaks louder than a level head does-- but in the end, its voice should be heard just as much as anything else. Were Nel to make all of her choices solely by logic..... well, she would have followed in the footsteps of many deceased Fell Dragons that came before. "It is kind of you to consider their feelings on the matter. Perhaps your head desires to make one decision, but your heart chooses another. A separation of wishes. For that, I do not have an answer-- for I have struggled many a year with the same predicament." That same disparity had led to her silence, something she regrets now. "Though over my time in life, I have begun to learn... sometimes our head paints false narratives for us. Sways us with incorrect ideas, incorrect assumptions." Deters her with false worries, shackles her with grief and regret. "A choice should not be made without the presence of logic. Yet it should not be made without the presence of our emotion, either." "If that is the case- what does your heart tell you, Sara? Does it tell you to run, or does it tell you to stay? For its choice is just as valuable as any other. And its choice is still yours."

@shadoll

[shadoll]

It is indeed kind of Sara, excessively so, and therein lies the dilemma she faces. The vague consideration Nel has taken notice of doesn't serve Sara. Her heart always aligned with her desires before, but she must pause now, forced to reckon with a weight rivaling the gravity of whim.

Apparently, the answer evades Nel too. Maybe even time cannot unravel this knot if they both feel its cumbersome influence persist. At least Nel seems to understand the importance of choice, the ongoing struggle to heed a voice constantly threatened to be drowned by outside noise.

Sara lifts her head when addressed anew, "Logic and emotion usually are not at odds for me. The narrative I wrote didn't account for anyone else in the picture. I don't really mind staying, though being apart for a while wouldn't bother me either."

Her gaze travels to a warm drink sitting within arm's reach, then slowly and gingerly draws the delicate teacup to her side of the table.

"I only fear losing sight of myself," she confesses. "It's a useless thought. As you say, the choice still exists." All things, happiness included, have their price. The only part which has changed is that the number of things Sara is unwilling to give up has increased. Grasping one doesn't need to mean relinquishing another. It is equally ridiculous to stage an early funeral for a loss yet to happen, afterall.

"The decision to stay rests in my hands alone."

—END

[verseandrhyme]

let the parrot take the stand!

Infamous | Sword +1

[verseandrhyme]

Around hour three of this farce, Mitama has concluded that shackles do not suit her.

The moment the murder was discovered, accusations had been thrown their way. Baseless ones, of course; Sara had been right there beside her when Mitama had woken up in the middle of the night. A rarity for her, but not something that never happened. At least it provided her former classmate turned friend a solid excuse when the whole house had come metaphorically crashing down on them with the boldest of claims.

That Mitama, tiny and lethargic as she was, had taken a knife from the kitchen and driven it straight into the viscount's chest.

Laughable, in her opinion. If she had to use a knife, she certainly would not have aimed for his chest. It takes quite a bit of force to break through the muscle and bone guarding the heart cavity, you know. Between the ribs would have been a far more suitable target for someone like her.

She does not share any of this with the thrown together jury, of course.

"I think I could slide right out of these if I wanted to." She mumbles quietly to Sara, who stands next to her. She lifts and angles her hands to make her point, but tilts them back upright before the shackles actually slide free. She does not want further ire in her direction, after all. 

She has lost track of whatever argument for her guilt the raving man is currently making. She hopes that Sara is paying more attention, at least.

When Mitama raises her hand, the man briefly stops to stare at her. "Might we take a break? We still have not had breakfast yet."

"NO WE MAY NOT."

Ugh. How disappointing. Mitama lowers her hand with a pout.

@shadoll

[shadoll]

The only legitimate surprise, Sara thinks, is the viscount didn't die overnight of fright. Had the culprit waited a mere couple of days, Burgundy probably would have croaked sooner or later without violent intervention. When the late victim's overzealous guard stormed and searched the room earlier, however, the report mentioned a kitchen knife to the chest as the cause of death. Currently, Sara can't confirm for herself whether the claim holds much water because Mitama has fallen under suspicion for some inane reason and they might have acted in concert according to the private investigator handling this case.

"I almost feel a little insulted they believe we used an uncreative method like stabbing," she retorts to Mitama, watching the iron bracelets dangle from her friend's wrists.

Breakfast seems to be off the table, maybe indefinitely, and, as the expensive clock on the far wall ticks away, it becomes obvious the tight-lipped man has no desire to entertain them or even converse.

"Are you absolutely certain he couldn't have fallen on the knife? At his age, accidents—"

"Viscount Burgundy, Goddess rest his name, showed no signs of slowing at his age."

"Given his agitated state since we arrived, it shouldn't be ruled out entirely unless there is evidence that suggests otherwise."

"Those who need to know already know."

Sara rolls her eyes, then pivots to ask Mitama a leading question, "Do you know? You're the one being accused, after all. I'd argue you deserve to know. How else would you be able to defend yourself against bad faith actors?"

[diadic]

it is pride month, lord leif. you know what that means

[virtuoustyrfing]

@shadoll sent:

[ LIGHT ] Trust is a surrender of control that carries tremendous risk in the eyes of most, but Sara grants hers without a second thought, sealing sight behind a blindfold for the song's duration. She cycles through partners like seasons, allowing them to guide her into a spin and start again, intoxicated by the heart pounding anticipation of each unknown hand to grasp.

A faint laugh, however, escapes the moment he welcomes hers and familiarity blooms, "What an unexpected meeting. Are you enjoying yourself, Seliph?"

One, two, three.

Seliph keeps a mental count of the steps as his body goes through the motions of the waltz. Follow the tempo. Don't step on your partner's toes. Many are undoubtedly focused on doing just that, too nervous to make a mistake.

Four, five—

A familiar voice breaks the concentration.

—Six.

He is a split second slower in raising his arm, guiding her into a twirl. "...Sara?" She recognizes him—even with the gloves he is wearing? Amazing, Seliph thinks, intrigued. As long as a blindfold casts his vision into darkness, he won't know whether he is sharing the dance floor with an acquaintance or a stranger.

"I am having a good time. I hope you are as well," he continues. "How did you know?"

[shadoll]

He directs her into a gentle turn, slower on the uptake, while his question coaxes another shorter laugh from Sara's lungs. Speaking with Seliph always feels like an act of rebellion that must have her miserable grandfather rolling over in the grave, liberating Sara from the destiny blood had prescribed.

"That's kind of you to say," she remarks.

It is kinder than many think she deserves given their circumstances. The King of Grannvale should have nothing to do with remnants of the Loptr Church, let alone offer any small amount of trust, but Seliph walked his own path however narrow.

"I simply heard the footsteps of the oncoming era."

[shadoll]

[ MOVIE - TRAGEDY ] - A techno-magical reproduction of a moving tragedy following a young prince seeking revenge against his uncle for the murder of his father. / /

“it’s not half-bad. they’ve got all the important elements right,” she admits. “the lamentable hero and his hubris, the timely descent into his downfall…”

dorothea shifts thoughtfully. her eyes remain affixed to the projections that flicker before them, watching with a trace of contrition. “you know, tragedies are the opera’s most popular genre. people come flocking in search of that catharsis—but after they've had a good cry, does the real message ever stay with them? for instance.”

she motions to the young prince. “he’s suffered an awful loss, there’s no question about it. but you have to ask yourself: how much blood needs to be spilled to make something right?”

disregarding intricacies of the plotline, in another life, this lamentable hero could have been leif. sara half-listens to dorothea's commentary, reflecting on the reputation his uncle, sigurd, earned himself in jugdral during the rule of emperor arvis. it's not a completely fair comparison to either of them, but with the flaws in her own family, she cannot help drawing a comparison seeing the boy hero in the throes of anguish and grief after a great loss.

her eyes leave the scripted performance to turn to the diva beside her, expression partially masked by the darkness and cast in shadows.

"even in human history, the same tragedies repeat over and over," she murmurs in a pensive mood. "there is no poetry in tragedy though."

there's no glory or justice in suffering, only unsung heartache.

"loss cannot be divorced from life any more than death. it may sound cold, but in reality, a single emotion suspended in time shouldn't govern one's actions forever."

[shadoll]

[ SNEAK ] - The Goddess Tower was a no-go before, but with flashy distractions at a high and visibility at a low, now is a better opportunity than you will get the rest of the night. The monastery staff have promised a very unforgiving punishment for those caught in forbidden grounds, but that only goes for those caught, right?

"— Sara." She states her name as if she hasn't said it in some time. It's because she hasn't. The Goddess Tower finds itself at a quiet hour, having seen the guards redirected elsewhere to take better control of other pressing matters. It is careless, she thinks, but it is also opportunity. She looks up towards the top of the tower. "I was thinking of you recently. I hope you're well." Edelgard takes a stride closer to its door. "I've heard many rumors about this tower. Yet, with all that circulation.. Here we are. At its foot, with nobody to stop us. Strange, no?"

For nobility and those with any desire established to rise through the ranks of society, attending events is little more than an obligation. Sara thinks this to herself when she sees Edelgard in passing, deflecting unwanted attention and socializing with people from all walks of life. Surrounded by professors and students, staff of the Church, and the rich elite that have been welcomed as guests, it is no small wonder that she comes to places like the Goddess Tower to steal back a moment for herself.

The vigilance of the moon prevails where knights have failed, raining light on the silent stone walkway and illuminating two girls in a silver glow, turning back the hands of time.

"Really?" she blinks back quietly because standing together only highlights the act of separation. Loss cannot break if attachments do not form, never given the chance to become permanent and put upon the shelf of recollection. Yet she falls into step with Edelgard with such unconscious ease, memory seems to rest in her body nonetheless.

"Well, thank you, I suppose. I'm not used to that."

While Edelgard had been among the few Sara personally informed of her dismissal, she seldom thought about how far their relationship progressed simply by sharing classes and completing missions under the Black Eagles banner.

With a strangely warm feeling nested in her chest, she tests the door to the tower and presses forward, nodding at her former house leader, "I found it odd, too. Students have always managed climbed the Goddess Tower, but security was increased this year. I thought, perhaps, rather than students, it may be those that joined us from afar under suspicion…"

[shadoll]

[ SEQUESTER ] "Huh? Oh... Sara?" For Ronan, this had been a wrong turn, the wrong door, and the wrong room. His eyes flit around the dark edges of the ceiling, then the corners, finding nothing particularly interesting except for the girl who's claimed this space for herself.

"What are you doing in here? Actually, I guess it's less surprising to find you in a place like this, than out there where the party is. I didn't think this kind of event was much to your taste." Cautiously, as if testing if the bank of a dark lake slopes into shallows or plummets abruptly into the depths, he steps past the threshold of the room and then stops again.

"It would be best if I brought you back to the rooms that are supposed to be used though. Like the ones with those moving pictures. Have you seen them?" His eyes light up with childlike excitement. "You have such strange magic yourself, so you must know what kind makes them move like that."

The first room she tries is too warm, the second too cold, but Ronan discovers her once Sara has found a room for herself that is just right, benefitting from all her hard work. A more selfish person would turn him away before he crossed through the door yet she doesn't even consider it, eyeing him patiently with a feeling just shy of actual fondness.

Tides of darkness ebb as Ronan enters the room, open door introducing light into the space.

"Next time you could choose to not presume my tastes," she tells him, sounding impartial, because the misconception doesn't exactly bother her. Ronan being wrong is of little consequence and evidently he himself hasn't taken advantage of the situation to enjoy himself if he has the time to attempt playing supervisor.

"But, alright, I'll humor you."

Sara leisurely retrieves her bouquet off the floor after feeling around for it, securing the spoils of her investigation in her other arm and leaving the shadows to enter the light.

"The magic you speak of was gifted to this monastery by The Projectionist. She perished last year in a battle to retake it, but her and Astarot's efforts proved indispensable and her legacy remains." The rustle of crinkling paper is heard as Sara shuffles her flowers to the side and holds out an older model of Photo-Artifex for Ronan to inspect on his own.

"Everyone called it illusory magic when we entered the illusions, however they seem to differ tonight. Given the chance, would you do it?"

[shadoll]

folie à deux.

Ethereal Ball 2026 // continued from here

[rigelprinceofdespair]

The sheer audacity of her statement, delivered point blank and to his face took him utterly off guard. For a moment a dozen emotions flashed through him. Anger, despair, rage, humiliation, more and more. Yet in the end, he surprised himself as he let out a laugh. One that actually built up, before he brought a hand up to smother it.

"Well. Far be it from me to argue with such a point blank assessment of my character. The standards I have are no doubt to high for most to manage." The fact that would be because his 'standards' are less to do with what he wants, and more about what he can never get back, go unmentioned.

Taking a moment, he thinks about those he had met. If he would trust them to be his partner in such a dance. Yet each time, no matter the occasion, there is only one person he wants in his arms. One he is unworthy of.

One he can never get back.

Letting out a sigh, he gives Sara a small shrug. "A thought for another time. The competition is over now, too late to get a partner. The evening as well is winding down." Finishing off the glass, he nods to Sara. "I think I'll go and relax. I'll bid you good evening Sara."

[shadoll]

Her head tips in the direction of his laughter, fuller than before and reaching toward the heavens. Sara isn't quite certain which part struck him the most humorous, but when it finally tapers into speech, the door to his heart has been shut, any and all deeper feelings in the moment sealed away. He has a terrible habit still of telling only half-truths.

"Very well," she acquiesces without protest, having no desire to continue the conversation if Berkut himself doesn't. "I won't keep you then. It is not as though I am lacking for company."

How ironic to think she can declare that now given how and where she grew up. He doesn't press her on the topic of her wretched, lonely past, so Sara will extend him the same courtesy for now. Unlike Tina, she has no interest in him other than occasionally chatting when they happen to meet.

"Luckily, relaxing is a pastime you can perform alone."

[fauxgado]

[ FLOWER ARRANGEMENT ] - Plants are like people, but in none of the ways that matter. Though their last encounter involved an admission of incompetence, Sara catches his eyes landing on the spider lilies in her bouquet and offers one as a gift along with well-meaning instructions, "Wash your hands after you handle it. I do not wish to be responsible if you end up sick later. However if there is someone you wish to see fall ill, do not tell them, fufufu..."

He had been looking at her bouquet, actually.

No shame in it—the different flowers they have in circulation at this party are something else. The ones she in particular totes around are unlike any others he's seen, bright red and almost creeping in shape. He'd be the last to call himself an expert on flowers, and that may be why he feels like he can safely say he hasn't seen any like them before.

And then, she offers one to him with what sounds like a warning.

Fogado blinks, before he makes sense of the situation. Or, at least, he thinks he does. "...oh! You're joking. Yeesh, you keep a good straight face. You almost had me going," he says, seeming genuinely impressed as he reaches out to take one from her. With his bare hand, mind you, because he didn't wear gloves tonight.

He looks at her again, and he realizes:

she's not joking, is she?

"...or, you're actually serious." He looks between the crimson bloom and her, chuckling half-amused and half-nervous. Silently, he resigns himself to either being done eating for the night or taking a rain check from classes tomorrow. "Yikes, are they really handing out flowers that dangerous? And expecting people to pass them around? Kind of seems like a disaster waiting to happen, and not even the fun kind of disaster."

Actually, hold that thought about himself taking a rain check from classes tomorrow.

"Aren't you worried you're going to get sick later, then? You're the one carrying them around all night."

[shadoll]

Sara looks down at her hands, mostly to the bouquet and the spider lilies in question which are separated from her hands by thin, sparkly paper, and then looks at the boy whose expression betrays a measure of worry he projects.

"They're not dangerous." It is not a whole truth but a redirection. She clarifies, "At least not so dangerous that you would be beyond the help of a restore staff. Still, it is inadvisable to ingest food or touch certain orifices." And she had the decency to warn him out of the goodness in her heart, hence, mitigating the possibility of any harm to come.

Her lips twitch with a smile as flowers are shifted, the arrangement readjusted to account for having one less than before.

She has been around dark magic since birth and, in her humble opinion, turned out alright despite the dangers it posed at all times.

"Anyway, no, I'm not afraid and you shouldn't be either. My tolerance is higher than most, however that is beside the point, since the Church is good at cleaning up their messes. I saw another woman tonight with the same bouquet, so the potential disaster you speak of doesn't seem to be anyone's concern."

She laughs faintly, "Were you unaware of this side to Fodlan?"

[shadoll]

folie à deux.

Ethereal Ball 2026 // continued from here

[rigelprinceofdespair]

Berkut can't help the small laugh that escapes him, even as he shakes his head. "A jest, that's all. I wouldn't hold a grudge for such a thing like that." Not when there are true insults that were so much more worthy of his time.

"You participated? Using magic as well, must have been quite the sight." A smirk crosses his face as she perfectly paints the picture of her partner getting sick. "I suppose the result could have been worse for me. Makes me glad that I chose to do this by myself."

Sipping on the water, he thinks for a moment. "You know, speaking of partners, I've been told to try to have a partner for next year. What nonsense. While perhaps my score might have been better with another by my side, I doubt I could find anyone I trust enough for such a thing." Or anyone that would trust him.

[shadoll]

He laughs and she hums. It is akin to understanding. Life shouldn't be lived just to accrue as many debts as grudges, fermenting and holding onto resentment. Sara didn't assign unnecessary meaning to actions or keep them in memory long, but he speaks of the past while facing forward and that, too, she understands.

The smirk returns to his face, making him look younger, for a moment. Her own expression softens. Ease finds her shoulders and she hums more.

"Oh?" That he has moved past his defeat and is forming plans for the future is a good sign. Sara can think of at least one girl that would no doubt delight in the chance to be his partner, but getting involved would only bring a new headache. These affairs have nothing to do with her, anyway.

"I wouldn't say trust is a requirement for dancing myself even if all the finalists were pairs." Berkut being stingy about who to give his trust doesn't come as a great surprise though. "Maybe you possess too high standards. You have been here for a while now, so you must have met at least a couple of worthy people. It sounds, to me, the problem could be you."

[sacrificialspear]

[ PHOTO-ARTIFEX ] The boxy device aimed at Finn emits a blinding flash without warning, spitting out a portrait which Sara shakes nonchalantly between forefinger and thumb as it develops in real time. "I've seen statues with more range of expression," she says in a way that makes it hard to tell whether she is joking. "Do you really want to remember your glory days like this?" Her head tilts with the question, gesturing to the boring wall she has cornered him by alone and pausing briefly. "...August once told me Quan and Ethlyn used to host extravagant, wasteful parties in Leonster for nobility, but seeing everyone dancing and smiling here tonight has given me a different perspective."

Ah, and to think he'd almost managed a night without being accosted.

The joke about statues feels particularly cruel with the memory of Eyvel's frozen face still something that he sees among his failures on his worst days. His flat expression grows flatter still with disapproval as he stares at her and waits for her to finish whatever it is she sought to do by finding him.

"Lord Quan and Lady Ethlyn were as generous as one would expect from people of their stature, and sought to share with their people all that they could." Finn himself had never partaken much in the merriment. It would have been above his station, as little more than Quan's squire. Still, he remembers when the parties would stretch on and he would start to struggle to hide his yawns, and Quan would take those quiet moments to confess to him how much he wished that his sworn friends from his Academy days could have been there too.

The shape of those old parties is here, but none of the spirit.

Still...for all her oddities, Sara is still a young girl. Perhaps she's not as divorced from dreaming and wishing as one might think at first glance. Though he hesitates at first, he eventually speaks. "I am sure that Lord Leif and Nanna's wedding will be something to rival even the best of their parties." Though he doesn't exactly want to think of that day either. "...when the time comes, circumstances permitting, I am sure you will be invited there too."

@shadoll

[shadoll]

Intuitively, Sara knows Finn must have been young once. That doesn't make it any easier to imagine in the present day, but when he reminisces like this, she understands Quan and Ethlyn were more than names to him. His very life is a ledger of their existence. To enshrine Leif in her heart means accepting the devout man who has offered himself as the sacrifice. She must do more than tolerate his presence.

"Will you dress up for the occasion then?" Her eyes narrow in a tease, smile suddenly present. "Selfina will probably lecture you."

She bends to sit on the floor, trying to hand off the picture to him since clearly she has no use for it.

"I know they will invite me, I do not know that I will attend. You know how people there are. My blood always complicates things." A pause. "It is no great loss to me though, really. When we returned to Jugdral, I understood. I won't be with Leif, Nanna, and even you forever and I am alright with that."

Someday, she thinks, Leif will be too.

[shadoll]

folie à deux.

Ethereal Ball 2026 // continued from here

[shadoll]

She watches him through the transparent reflection in glass, the arrogant grin he so often wore temporarily missing as Berkut mulled over his loss in a rare show of vulnerability that Sara doesn't remark on. It's his choice to take away what he will from this experience, whether he uses it as motivation to do better in the future or be weighed down by his previous failures, but she doesn't believe he should concern himself with the opinion of the judges regardless.

Her brow quirks in inquiry when he raises another matter altogether, "I wasn't aware you were carrying a grudge this long. Didn't I apologize already?" Sara won't do it a second time even if Tina begs her now.

"As for my night, I found it nostalgic in truth. There was a year I participated in the White Heron Cup with a cheerful flame. We flooded the stage in magic and spun in dizzying circles until he ended up sick to his stomach, ahaha. I still remember the flush of his face during the first round."

@rigelprinceofdespair

[diadic]

@shadoll sent: [ CORN ] - "You will never guess who I saw among the contestants for the White Heron Cup," she giggles, hand drawn to her mouth as though a failure to stiffle her laughter could ruin the surprise, "Come on, you can't miss this."

( ethereal ball — first half prompts / white heron cup. )

    A bag of popped corn in his hand, Leif's about to throw one of the kernels up into the air and into his mouth when the sound of Sara's giggle throws him off. He catches it not with his maw but instead his bag, thinking fast before he blinks dumbly at the healer.

“The White Heron Cup?? Oh, right, they brought that back this year...” Something he'd passed on, feeling nauseous at just the memory. Regardless of his past experiences, he humors his companion. “I hadn't realized you cared for things like that, Sara. But if it's interested you... Alright. Let's go.”

He allows himself to be led to the venue of the competition, quick as can be, only driven more curious by Sara's clear investment...

And when they get to the crowd, midway through the first round, it's clear immediately what she has dragged him here for.

“Finn?!?”

[shadoll]

In truth, she wouldn't have bothered to watch most years, but Leif's expression alone makes dragging him over feel worthwhile. Though her laughter soon quiets to a hum, a smile remains while Sara loops her arm through his, cheek pressed against him.

Having acquired the reaction she hoped for already, her eyes wander purely out of curiosity to the other matches and competitors waiting in the wings. A few familiar faces here and there as well as a particularly eye-catching outfit which gives her temporary pause. Most surprising of all, however, is the fact Finn seems to have found himself a partner sometime after she stepped away to grab Leif.

"Do you know anyone else that—Oh, even Rafal has chose to participate. How interesting."