Mark - Superb Mind

Affiliated with The Officer's Academy (Golden Deer) || icon by @mariberru

[of-pherae]

a professor's duty is never finished

toaball 2026

[of-pherae]

It's inevitable that his duties as staff find him even here at the ball. He's already been assisting throughout the night, taking pictures with the photo-artifex, securing areas, and now he's been asked to patrol. The late hour and rising moon have brought out the devious side of more than a few students.

The late hour also means he's spent most of this ball nursing his right side and he's grown weary of bearing the pain. But his duty is not yet finished and so he keeps going. He can rest when the night is over.

"Ah, Mark. Are you who they asked to patrol with me?" He smiles. At least he'll have good company. "I've been told the Goddess Tower is a popular spot for students to try to sneak to. Do you know anything about it?"

He begins walking, albeit a little slowly, toward the exit with Mark at his side. Hopefully he doesn't notice too much.

—@shystratagem !!

[shystratagem]

Mark was waiting for any excuse to slip away from the rest of the partygoers. He was hardly a social butterfly, and while the night hadn't been quite as stressful as he'd expected, Mark did not particularly want to stay at it any longer. When given the opportunity to patrol the Goddess Tower, Mark immediately pounced upon it. He had little desire to punish students, he just liked the sound of having a reason to be in a secluded area instead of the uncomfortably loud ballroom.

Mark barely had a moment to relax his tensed shoulders and let out a long sigh before a voice reached his ears, his name carried upon it. He jumped visibly, his body stiffening back up immediately. Only once he laid eyes upon Eliwood did Mark let himself loosen up once again. It was no more jumpy than Mark normally was, but he was growing quite tired of how tense he had gotten. A nice, quiet moment with a friend would be a perfect remedy.

"Oh, Eliwood, I didn't know you were patrolling too," Mark greeted him eagerly. "I wasn't really listening when they told me who else would be there. I just wanted the chance to get away from it all."

No surprise there, given the cowardice he'd displayed before. He'd fled his home because he felt powerless to fix its ills. He'd run away from Caelin twice when his anxieties over whether or not he was a burden on Lyn consumed him. Nothing had changed.

[shystratagem]

“It’s a shame Lyn isn’t here with us today, isn’t it?”

Serra approaches him with the flower already proffered — the mischievous smile on her face accentuated by its dark color. (All of her is made up darkly, today. Her dress, her make-up.) “We started out with bouquets… That’d be a perfect way to profess your love, don’t you think! And you do look soo cute tonight…”

Okay. She should stop messing with him.

“Sorry… Are you having fun tonight? Did anyone catch your eye? Make your heart stop, or skip a beat, or anything exciting?”

Oh, there Serra was. Mark was, frankly, surprised he hadn't seen her earlier in the night. While there were a fair few people here Mark wouldn't think would enjoy a fancy do like this one (Rath, Hector, and Raven all came to mind), Serra was entirely in the opposite camp. There was nobody would be more in their element at a ball than she would, outside of maybe Pent.

"What? Um... no, not really," Mark countered, brow furrowing as though Serra had just said something that defied all common sense. "That's not what-- they gave me hyacinths when I got here. They aren't used for expressing love. I mean, I would give them to Lyn, but that's because they're used to express something like the sincerity of your feelings or a desire to remain by someone's side. You know. Because we're friends. And that's what friends do."

Really, how could Serra not have known that? It was like she didn't know a thing about what flowers were used for what emotions. The other question she asked did not receive an answer. Mark wasn't sure he had one to give.

[shystratagem]

[ MINT CANDY ] - For when your breath isn’t as fresh as newly-fallen snow.

Mark understood now why Katarina had come to foist candies upon other people. He had finished the first of the candies she gave him, and although he had enjoyed it, the thought of consuming more had quickly become unappealing. One was quite enough, and yet here he was with seven more in his hand. Maybe he should find someone else to give them to. Maybe that was the point. You eat one, then you pass the rest on to someone else. Some kind of tradition.

"Hi, um, do you-- here," Mark said, unceremoniously dumping the remainder of the mints into the hand of the first person he came across. He even included one of his lilies as a nice little bonus. Payment for the candy he was inflicting upon this random girl.

"I hope you enjoy them. I, ah... I don't have room for more, but I don't want them to go to waste, y'know?"

[shystratagem]

[ MINT CANDY ] "Excuse me..." Katarina approaches a bit hesitantly, one hand curled into a loose fist and cradled by her stomach. She's aware of these candies, which is why she hurries to explain herself.

"Ah... someone handed me a few too many of these..." Indeed, when she opens her palm, she reveals no fewer than seven mints. "I can eat some of them, but um..." A small, shy laugh. "...would you be willing to take some off my hands...?"

There were a few seconds of silence following Katarina's approach. Mark stared back owlishly, quickly throwing a glance over his shoulder to check whether or not she might be speaking to someone behind him. After confirming that to be unlikely, he raised a hand to point at himself, silently mouthing a question about whether or not she did indeed mean him. It was only once he was fully confident that she was, in fact, speaking to him that Mark finally gave her a proper, albeit equally hesitant, response.

"Oh, um, sure, yeah," Mark answered, giving a wavering half-smile to try and appear as welcoming as possible. "I, um... thank you. I hadn't noticed they had candies out. I've made my own share of pastries and the like before, but confections are a bit outside my realm of expertise, honestly."

She didn't ask. She probably didn't care. Mark was just making things awkward, wasn't he? With rapidly reddening cheeks, he finally took a few of the mints from the woman's outstretched hand, leaving a lily behind as though this was a transaction that required payment.

"Thank you," Mark added hastily. As soon as the words left his lips, he popped one of the mints into his mouth, mostly just as an excuse to force himself to stop talking so he didn't make anything worse.

[shystratagem]

Yes This Guy Is Bothering Me

[shystratagem]

@peerlessscowl asked:

[ NETWORK ] - One of your fellow ball-goers is being accosted, and getting into earshot, you realize it's by someone who claims to be one of the scouts looking for talent. But they're being a little pushy, aren't they? And are you sure they're really who they say they are? Are these randos bothering you, king?

Mark had come to Garreg Mach to avoid being noticed. Yes, his professorship did make him somewhat conspicuous, but the entire reason he had left Elibe for somewhere across the sea was to avoid attention from Etruria and Bern. The two nations had been continually trying to convince Mark to work for them ever since the Black Fang fell, and the occasions where representatives from both nations arrived simultaneously often ended in conflict that Mark would much prefer to avoid. Perhaps attending a ball was somewhat counterintuitive to his goal, but there were so many people present and he often faded into the background of crowds. How likely would it be that someone would seek him out at an event like this?

Evidently, it was more likely than Mark had anticipated. The man before him prattled on and on about having an "eye for talent", about having noticed Mark, about the potential they were certain he had. Mark wasn't actually sure if they knew he was a strategist or not-- their statements had been terribly vague thus far-- but he didn't want to find out if they actually knew who he was. He needed an excuse to escape from this discussion, but as he shrank away from the stranger, they only advanced forward, continuing to question him.

Thankfully, it seemed they were not the only person who had noticed Mark's presence. As the tactician was backed up against a wall, the agent was suddenly stopped from continuing to approach. Mark had never been so relieved in his life to see someone scowl in his direction. For once, he didn't immediately assume that the person scowling was mad at him. He would recognize that face anywhere. No sooner had they appeared than Mark scuttled behind them, putting the mercenary directly in between himself and the person who had accosted him.

"Raven!" Mark chirped, relief shining overtly in his gaze. Maybe he could even give the mercenary one of his flowers as a show of gratitude-- later, though. "I didn't know you were here too! Oh, we really should catch up, if you're not busy!"

He sincerely hoped Raven would recognize the out Mark was trying to give himself. It certainly wasn't out of the question for Raven to decide on physical intervention as his course of action, but Mark would definitely prefer to avoid an altercation if possible. He preferred to avoid conflict whenever possible, certainly, but at this point, he really just wanted to attract as little attention as possible for the rest of the night.

[shystratagem]

Silent Secret Sharing

[shystratagem]

@kutolahs (continued from here!)

amidst the beginning stages of the ball, some took to the center in their pursuit of excitement while others gravitated to edges in their avoidance. no matter what, the packed confines of the venue assured that these people existed in pairs or groups and that no-one—not even a solitary nomad—was truly alone. "... ... ..." eyes forward, shoulders square. lips unmoving. how long had rath and mark been standing side-by-side in silence? minutes? hours? for most, it would be easy to say. for rath, he failed to note that amount at all. words were burdensome; and, more than burdensome, unneeded. the one known as rath did not speak - not much, and not to anyone. often he was questioned for this absence of quality and his lack of instinct, thought strange or angry. rare were the people who understood the need for a man who suffered in silence to perpetuate it, even rarer were those who simply let be. however, mark was one of those rare ones; someone who shared the need to shirk limelight, and even if he did not understand rath's silence, respected it. perhaps it's why, even if only ever so slightly, he cants his head at the tactician's vulnerable admission. an acknowledgement. an effort: "...i see. it is familiar to me, being alone. if i did not know anyone, and if i did, it would...make no difference." it's the most he's spoken to mark so far. as if equalized by a great law of the universe, the same words are followed by an ungainly pause; too long to be natural and shrug off as a mistake. not that rath—who has no sensation for embarrassment—does. instead he blinks, slow and gauging, at the appearance of the lilies. "...i have no interest in dying flowers. we of sacae discourage such senseless plucking." this might have sounded like a chastisement if it weren't for rath's matter-of-fact tone. if it weren't for the roses he held out next. "but, i will...give you these."

Mark couldn't say he had expected much else in terms of a response. As much as an introvert as he himself could be, Rath certainly seemed to be even more of one. Mark, as much as he needed his time alone, found comfort in the presence of those close to him. Without proper balance between the two, he would end up spending too much of his time ruminating on his thoughts, letting his emotions overwhelm them until eventually something gave way. That was, ultimately, how he had ended up meeting Lyn to begin with, the exact mechanism that had led him to flee from his home in Bern.

Still, Mark wasn't certain Rath's statement was entirely true. There was some significant difference: respect for Rath's culture. There were a good many situations where not knowing anyone might actually be the better option for him. If people were unfamiliar with Sacae, then they would have no existing bias against her people. As much as Mark liked to believe he was above such a thing, he had been a part of the system that perpetuated it. He was at fault in some way, even if the two of them might never acknowledge it aloud.

Ah, but Rath had given Mark a convenient excuse not to think about that. His words had addressed a topic Mark was familiar with. Before he had gotten into tactics, his previous preoccupation had been with nature. Mark, as a sickly shut-in child, had always adored reading everything he could about the natural world. Perhaps it had been a symptom of being unable to explore it.

"Oh, no, they're not dying," Mark explained with a small laugh, his smile coming more freely now than it had at any point prior so far that night. "Not necessarily, at least. Lily cuttings aren't too hard to cultivate. I mean, they're water plants already, so putting it in a vase is actually an easy way to get it to start growing new roots so you can properly plant it."

Such a thing was hardly the intent with the bouquets, but Mark still fully intended to try and cultivate all of the flowers he collected tonight. The rose from Rath was graciously accepted and tucked into Mark's bouquet for safe keeping.

"And they're edible, for whatever that's worth. Er... most lilies are, at least. I can't say I know if the ones here are. Uh, they might-- I wouldn't recommend trying, because some of them are poisonous. Or, well, all of them are poisonous, it's just that most of them aren't poisonous enough to affect people."

[shystratagem]

[ PHOTO IN MOTION ] - And in addition, this year boasts a similar device bolstered by new advancements that allow it to capture more than just a moment; now, even motion and sound can be immortalized forever. Take a video with a friend—or catch something juicy you’ll want to keep up your sleeve for later. - "Hey, can you hold this?" Caspar holds the recording device out, the lens still pointed at himself. "I'm gonna prove how easy it is to do a backflip, even in a fancy outfit! Ready?"

Mark's bouquet of lilies was knocked out of his grip by a device being shoved into his hands in its place. He'd seen it around, this "photo artifex" and its recording counterpart. How it worked, Mark had no idea, though he was certainly intrigued by the notion. He would very much like to inspect it himself, but now was very much not the best time to do so. After all, if he were to break it, everyone at the ball would surely despise him for doing so. Oh, and this kid was asking Mark to record him doing a backflip.

...Wait, hold on a second.

"I-- are you sure that's a g-good idea?" Mark stammered, trying his best to impress upon the child that it most certainly was not a good idea. "I mean, there's... there's so many people around. You might accidentally... um, kick someone in the head."

Normally, that someone would probably be Mark. That was precisely the sort of luck he was used to. Instead, he was going to be an accomplice to whatever misfortune occurred. That might be worse, actually.

[shystratagem]

[ SWEET BUN TRIO ] Three delicious, bite-sized buns from Faerghus. The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

Mark probably needed to pace himself with the snacks. He desperately wanted to try all of them, but he knew his eyes were bigger than his stomach. He had never been much of a big eater. Stuffing his face too quickly would mean he didn't have room to sample everything he'd like to, and that would be a tragedy with so much on offer. Even something as small as these little sweet buns would probably be better off cut in half, just enough to sample them without taking up too much room. It would be a shame to just waste the other half, though...

Oh, there was someone else at the snack table, and she was clearly eyeing the sweet buns as well. How convenient. She certainly made herself easy to notice with that stunning outfit of hers. Black and white was a simple and classic color scheme, but it was an effective one; the contrast of light and dark made for an excellent visual. That mask of hers gave her an air of mystique, of intrigue. Whoever she was, she definitely knew how to make an appearance. Hopefully she wasn't too cool for someone like Mark to bother.

"Um, I don't think I can eat all three of these, but I want to try a bit of each," Mark greeted her, offering a weak attempt at a friendly smile. The anxieties plaguing him made it hard to smile too freely to someone he didn't know well. "If I cut them in half, would you want the other halves? I'd feel bad just letting them go to waste. Oh, uh, you can have a flower from my bouquet, too, if you'd like."

[shystratagem]

[ CORN ] - A new strain of corn has been bred in Bergliez with a curious trait—it pops when exposed to heat, becoming light and fluffy! Help yourself to a bag; it's a little bland on its own, but you get the feeling you could find something to spice it up.

Mark was somewhat disappointed by the catering, though he tried not to let it show. It wasn't that the food on offer was bad by any means. Mark had just hoped it would be a bit more substantial, something more than these little snacks. He had gotten his hopes up for samples of full dishes, new flavors from lands unfamiliar to him. To be fair, he could have gotten at least some of that from the mess hall already... if he remembered to feed himself on a more regular basis. Unfortunately, Mark was often too distracted by his work to do so, and when he did eat, it was usually something quick and accessible or something he prepared for himself in order to not take too much time away from whatever he was trying to get done. This had been a chance to finally get to eat the local cuisine, or at least Mark had thought that was what it would be.

Still, he couldn't quite complain. This puffed corn was enjoyable enough, perhaps a bit too much so. Mark had just gotten himself a serving, and by the time he'd managed to wrestle his way through the crowd (a difficult task for one as lacking in presence as he) to get back to his seat, he'd managed to eat almost all of it. Mark hadn't even noticed his supply getting low, idly popping one piece into his mouth at a time as he walked. It was much too easy to eat a lot of this, which made it a dangerous snack to have on hand.

"Have you gotten to try any of the food?" Mark chirped as he sidled over to Eliwood. "You should have some of this puffed corn if you haven't had the chance yet. It's really good!"

The bowl in Mark's hand was extended towards Eliwood... and so was a lily from Mark's bouquet. He'd dropped the flowers several times on his way back from the snack table. It was a small wonder more of them hadn't ended up in the bowl.

[shystratagem]

Mark had not actually intended to attend the ball. His plans had been to hole himself up in his quarters for the duration of the event, same as most other nights. The fact that he found himself here now, out in the open among the throngs of people, was something of an anomaly. Mark was far from social, to put it mildly. He feared that his utter lack of presence might end with him getting crushed by a pair of dancers that had failed to notice him. Worse yet, he might actually be noticed, and he might have to entertain attention he didn't want. There really was no good outcome here.

Yet he had attended anyway. He'd even gone to the effort to dress up for the event, another thing he already regretted. It was hardly a revealing outfit, but just being without his thick robes at all made him feel terribly exposed. People could actually see just how slender his frame truly was, how small he was beneath all of the fabric. How vulnerable he was. At least his friends were here. If he wasn't certain they were going to show up, Mark never would have mustered the courage to attend. Now, what was he supposed to do with these flowers, again?

Mark has a bouquet of lillies!

Flower Tracker:

Roses: Rath, Hector

Orchids: Nils

Lilies: Mitama

Hyacinths: Petra

Tulips: Niamh

Ball outfit:

art by @warpaway

[shystratagem]

Activity Check (April 2026)

Thread Tracker

Stat Points: 1

Authority +1 (C -> C (+1))

[shystratagem]

[ TXT ] : call me. it's important.

[ TXT ] : i saw your proposal cross my desk today

[ TXT ] : your plan is genius!

Mark frowned as he looked down at the messages he had received, idly scrolling up and down through the conversation history to make sure he hadn't missed anything. No, Mark would much prefer he did not call her. Writing his words down was much, much easier for him than trying to speak them aloud. Even if, while speaking over the phone, he did not have the pressure of someone staring directly at him as he tried to put his thoughts into words, he still found it significantly more difficult to try and have a verbal discussion than one where he could reevaluate and alter his messages before sending them.

[TXT]: I can't call right now, can we schedule a meeting later?

It was a lie, but she didn't need to know that. Putting it off for later only made it a problem for future Mark, though, and the thought of winding up exactly in this precise situation again filled him with dread. He would have time to prepare, yes, but it would still lead back to the same issue of needing to actually talk out loud. Maybe he could offer some text-based discussion now to see if she bit, and take things from there. It would at least help him plan out what to say if they discussed things even slightly ahead of time.

[TXT]: Or is there anything I can explain now over text messages, maybe?

[shystratagem]

An Excuse To See A Friend

[shystratagem]

@of-pherae

Mark wasn't sure when he had arrived or what had brought him here, but as soon as news of a new Golden Deer professor had reached Mark's ears, the tactician had begun gathering papers and records to prepare a report for the new arrival. There was a possibility that this could turn out to be someone else with the same name, but that seemed somewhat unlikely. Mark strongly suspected that Eliwood was not, in fact, a common household name-- not unless they were specifically named after the Eliwood that Mark was acquainted with, of course. It could make sense, to be named after so heroic a figure, but Mark doubted anyone named after Eliwood would be old enough for a professor position, since they would probably have to have been born after Eliwood had defeated Nergal and the Black Fang. Mark was, of course, unaware of the fact that there were people from an Elibe twenty years out from the one Mark was familiar with. That knowledge would have somewhat affected the underlying assumptions here.

Mark did not knock before entering the new professor's office. He was concerned about being polite, certainly, but he had no way of actually knocking at present. His hands were quite full with the array of scrolls and notebooks and papers clutched to his chest, practically overflowing from his arms. In fact, he had dropped some more than once on his way over, leading to him dropping even more in an attempt to pick up whatever had fallen. Eliwood's door was open, so there really would have been no point in announcing his presence when the lord of Pherae could already see him. Besides, Mark worried that if he dallied any further, he might end up spilling the items he had brought all over the floor, and he would very much prefer not to humiliate himself so in front of Eliwood quite so soon.

"I heard you're going to be a Golden Deer professor!" Mark squeaked. "I thought you might appreciate it if I gave you the materials I had on the students so you could familiarize yourself with them and know which areas you need to work with them on specifically. I'm, um, also with the Golden Deer, by the way, so we've got the same students."

He had eschewed a proper greeting entirely in his haste to give himself an excuse to deposit the assortment of items he had brought onto Eliwood's desk. As before, Mark was quite concerned with being polite, he just thought circumstances called for skipping such formalities. Besides, he needed to give Eliwood a reasonable excuse to want to speak to him. He had to imagine Eliwood was quite busy, having just arrived in a new location and been hired to a new job with quite a lot of new people to get acquainted with. Bothering Eliwood at such a time without sufficient cause would be terrible.

[shystratagem]

90% Of Gamblers Quit Before They Win Big

(Gachapon) A strange device sits at the festival grounds, containing little capsules with dolls inside of them. The perfect memento! For a few pieces of gold one of them can be yours- and who knows what you’ll get?

[ostianshadow]

Blank stare landed on Mark with his bluster of protest. Brow quirked. Hand settled on hip. Pursing lips in thought, Matthew glanced back toward the wicked machine in question, where the vendor was busy with another customer at the present - thankfully.

"Hmmm…"

Clucking his tongue, he shook his head.

"It just looks odds-based to me, honestly. You have some games that at least pretend there's some hint of skill involved but this isn't one of 'em."

How hard could cranking a wheel be?

"… the prizes aren't even that cute…"

Though muttered neath his breath, it was enough to catch a certain someone's attention. The vendor, now free, sprung up before the two like a marmot from its hole in the ground - and just as incensed.

"The nerve, sir! Why," he clapped a hand on both of their shoulders, "you have yet to see the better part of them, so you should see fit to reserve judgment! These will be sought after before long, you know - being able to test your luck here and now before they hit the market for real… it's a steal!!"

Frowning, Matthew casually disengaged himself from contact, clearly unimpressed.

The vendor turned his focus to Mark instead, tugging on his hand.

"I'll let you try it out on the house! Won't you give my game a chance?"

[shystratagem]

Well, yes, Mark knew it was effectively random-- that wasn't what he was inquiring about. It would be a bit shameful to say it outright, but he had been hoping Matthew would be able to open it up to get a handle on how the mechanisms worked. At that point he'd probably be able to just take whatever prize he wanted from it, but where would the fun be in that? There had to be some risk to it, some form of outsmarting the system for it to be truly satisfying.

Matthew's next statement came as a bit of an insult. Given how much the list of prizes had caught Mark's eye, being told they weren't that cute made it feel like his interest was misplaced. Mark was about to open his mouth to object, to point out the charm the little trinkets had-- they even had prizes that looked like their friends! Regardless, Mark didn't have the chance to draw Matthew's attention to it, as the operator of the stand (who Mark had actually failed to notice thus far) interjected immediately.

A small smile tugged at the edge of Mark's mouth as it clicked with him what Matthew had been doing. Even with a simple chance-based system like this, Matthew had found a way to outsmart it. Mark's faith had not been misplaced at all. He eagerly accepted the token from the shopkeeper, glancing excitedly back at the thief as though seeking permission before he proceeded.

"I don't think the prizes are that unappealing," Mark chirped, depositing his token into the machine. "Look, there's even one that looks like Leila! Er, I think it's supposed to be Leila... if I get that one, do you want to have it, Matthew?"

...Or would that just reopen old wounds? Hopefully he hadn't committed some major faux pas... but Matthew was probably bound to notice it sooner or later anyway. A delicate hand turned the crank, the mechanism groaning and creaking before depositing a small capsule into Mark's waiting palm. The opaque container gave no indication of which toy might be inside. Nothing to do but open it, it seemed.

Drawn by @stormofembla

Mark stared down at the strange little carriage, brow furrowing. His eyes turned from it to Matthew and back again, a frown creasing his gentle features. Maybe Matthew hadn't been entirely wrong about these. Mark wouldn't call this one "cute" by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn't the one he was looking for at all. In fact, Mark hadn't even noticed this one on the page of prizes. He didn't particularly want to keep it, in all honesty.

"...I... think it's supposed to be Oswin," Mark mumbled, gaze turning back to his companion. A smile was forced across Mark's face as he outstretched his hand towards Matthew.

"H-here. I think it's only fair you have this one, right? I m-mean, you got us the free try, and Oswin is more, um, relevant to you than he is to me, anyway."

[shystratagem]

she is curious to see if her name — their name — appears…

Friendfiction

"Mark" does not, but there's more than a few pages featuring obvious variations on it. "Martin" is the most common one, but "Magnus" and "Malik" appear frequently as well. All of the "M" names blatantly describe variations the same character, because aside from personality similarities, the physical descriptions match up as well: pale, slender, shorter than the romantic interest, brown hair, and with sporting rounded features. The vast majority of the pages describing this character have a warrior woman named "Linden" or "Lauren" as the romantic interest, and in every instance, it is she who takes the lead in the romance... but she's not the only one Martin is paired with.

...In fact, almost every single character that has been written about at all is paired with Martin (or one of Martin's many apparent identical twins) in one story or another. There's the suave ex-criminal Lancelot, the stoic and devoted knight Heinrich, the battle-hungry and domineering Vanya, the shy Fiorella, the noble and kindhearted Elroy... it seems like this Martin fellow really gets around.

Curiously, though, these pages all sport something that makes them unique among all of the works scattered across the courtyard: they are the most heavily edited of the lot. Most of the words are almost entirely scribbled out, reworked over and over with the author never seeming satisfied. Martin remains a fixed point, but the world around them is ever-changing, unable to resolve into an actual conclusion. Not a single page actually depicts Martin romancing or being romanced by someone, just endless yearning... it's almost sad.

Surely this means nothing, though.

[shystratagem]

📝 windy today innit. like a damn hurricane

Friendfiction

"Passionate, aren't you?"

The cool voice of a certain ex-criminal floated through the night air, just loud enough to be heard over the grunting and heavy breathing coming from Heinrich. His arm paused, suspended mid-swing as his eyes turned towards the intruder. Soon, his sword arm continued its motion, whirling straight past the training dummy and stopping just shy of Lancelot's throat. For his part, Lancelot did not budge. He did flinch. He did not so much as bat an eye. He simply stood, leaned against the wall with his good eye staring down the former knight.

"Easy, there," he spoke to Heinrich with the same nonchalance as he had initially greeted the other man despite the outward display of hostility. "If I were going to stab you, I'd've done it already."

"As if I can trust the words of a liar and a cheat," Heinrich countered, his gaze steely and face stoic in contrast to the easygoing smile Lancelot wore. "Why do you seek me out at such an hour?"

"Boredom, mostly," Lancelot answered with a shrug. He stepped to the side, not approaching Heinrich, but instead strafing around him, sizing him up like a big cat would its prey before a pounce. There was a danger in his calm demeanor, Heinrich recognized that. It hid Lancelot's true intentions far too easily for his liking.

"And boredom dictated you seek out your enemy?" Heinrich snorted, eyes narrowing. "Begone, before I use you to practice my swordplay instead."

"Hey, now, we're not enemies anymore," Lancelot countered with a breezy laugh. "Besides, I'd be stupid to try anything with you after I already let you know I was here. If we tussled, my money would be on you for sure. Trust me, if I were going to hurt you..."

And suddenly the two were face-to-face. Heinrich's sword clattered to the ground, disarmed before he even recognized it had been happening. Between Lancelot's fingers, a metal wire, similar to that used to string a piano, glinted in the faint moonlight. When had he had the chance to entangle that around Heinrich's blade?

"I'd have already done it."

A beat passed, their noses practically pressed together. Neither man looked away or so much as blinked, tension lacing the air so thickly that it was practically audible. It was Heinrich who broke it, suddenly scrambling backwards and snagging his sword in the same motion. It was not graceful, but it was efficient. Once more, Lancelot did not move, simply watching Heinrich with an idle fascination.

"Begone from my sight!" Heinrich hissed, face flushing a furious red from the embarrassment of being caught so off-guard. "I've no time to waste on someone like you!"

"Oh, but I think you do," Lancelot laughed, making no move to depart despite Heinrich's insistence. "I think we both have quite a lot we could tell each other. Is now a good time for a chat?"

[shystratagem]

📝 am I a good supporting character sir mark

Friendfiction

Nadia's head nestled gingerly into the crook of Linden's arm, her own seemingly unable to be removed from the other woman's shoulders. Try as she might to pry herself free, it seemed her strength had abruptly failed her. Perhaps her body, her weak heart, did not want to be disentangled, no matter what her brain might insist. Her logical mind was powerless against a surge of emotion like that, and all she could do was make herself more comfortable in Linden's embrace... not that it was particularly difficult.

"Oh, Linden..." she sighed breathily.

"Nadia," the other woman cooed gently in reply, "are you sure you're alright? You're burning up, you know."

Nadia was saved from having to reply by another voice speaking over her own. Though they might share blood, her brother did not suffer the same illness as she, and that was reflected in his demeanor. He was able to be vocal where Nadia found herself silent, to be forward where she shied away, to follow his heart where Nadia could not bring herself to follow her own. Just this once, she had been rescued from her own shortcomings by another's actions, but now, it seemed, her brother had unintentionally arrived to interrupt it.

"Nadia!" the boy cried, racing over to his sister's side. Nadia and Linden's gazes, which had been locked only moments before, both turned to look at the newcomer to the scene. Nadia's own feet were beneath her once again, though Linden remained close to her lest she fall again.

"Oh," Nadia greeted him sheepishly, "Nathaniel. I, um... I'm fine, r-really. You need not worry about me."

But he would worry. He always worried. Everyone around her always did.