— wayward

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧? 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞. 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐟𝐟. 𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐲; 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐲𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚

[silesseti]

PINNED POST.

lewyn’s back! i’ve decided to make an entirely new blog because i didn’t like a single thing from his old blog, down to the url, but rest assured his story is the same. i did, however, redo his interview to better match the standard of writing i hold myself to nowadays, and i encourage you to read it! 

this post will summarize the toa!lewyn headcanon, but the tl;dr is that he’s taken at the end of gen 1 fe4 and knows nothing of the events of gen 2. with regards to his old toa activities, i’ll consider any threads with muses still in toa to be “”canon”” events that he remembers happening.

but anyways, onto how he got here:

the first generation lewyn and second generation “lewyn” are actually two separate entities. while it has been confirmed that gen 2 “lewyn” is actually forseti, it has never been explicitly stated that he is forseti taking on his likeness. the headcanon that “lewyn” is just forseti mimicking his body is what i will be going with for toa lewyn. this allows forseti to play his role during the events of the second generation, and gives lewyn a decent excuse to appear in fodlan. it is also heavily supported by the intro cutscene showcasing forseti reviving lewyn with the valkyrie staff, in which they are different units.

following his revival after the battle of belhalla, lewyn was instructed by forseti to leave jugdral. this was done in order to prevent people from seeing two lewyn’s, and coming to the conclusion that forseti broke the ancient dragon taboo of noninterference.

as a parting gift, he received forseti’s blessing. this allows him to innately cast the spell of forseti without the holy tome–which was left behind for his next of kin.

after leaving jugdral, he spent many months sailing and roaming the greater world, donning the guise of a humble bard once more. this stretch of time, plus the length of the holy wars, explains why his age is 22 and not something around 20.

thus bringing us to fodlan, his current destination. after spending some time around garreg mach, it was inevitable that he learned of abyss. he believes that it would not only protect his identity, but provide him with a chance of redemption after the battle of belhalla.

he has literally zero clue about what forseti did with his body! gen 2 muses feel absolutely free to yell at him for the shitty things “he” did or some of the good ones, and watch as he struggles to just roll with it all.

as always, thanks for taking the time to read this. if you want to plot, have any questions, or just wanna chill out, my discord (Orokara#4720) is always open! otherwise, i’m looking forward to threading with him again!

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

Lumenhearted

So much for avoiding the spotlight tonight,

This, however, is a dance that pegasus knight knows far better than that of earlier. She steps easily out of harms way, allows her husband to play his cards to best line up with her own, and strikes.

She bears neither magic nor hidden knives, but years spent with a lance have warranted her more than her fair share of strength. Man forgotten, for he likely will not get all too far anyways, Erinys watches as the woman raises her knife once more. In one smooth motion, knight catches the other’s ankle with her own, effectively throwing off the attacker’s balance to more easily seize her arms. They’re held behind her back, squeezed until her grip on the knife fails and metal clatters to the ground.

Erinys blinks up at her partner, ignoring the stream of curses from her captive and the eyes of the party that have all seemingly found their way to her. She nods toward the forgotten man who is still fumbling about a mere few feet away.

“Could you take care of him?” Not that it’ll be too difficult of a task, really, the poor thing looks as though he’s seen a ghost.

And with both charges apprehended – her own having given up her thrashing in favor of avoiding the humiliation of being dragged out of the ball for all to see – Erinys nods towards the exit.

It’s a relief to feel fresh air again, and even more so to hand off their criminals to the knights awaiting them. With a satisfied hum, Erinys turns to Lewyn once more.

“…I don’t imagine they’ll be inviting us back anytime soon, hm?”

- FIN .

THREAD END.

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

to have and to hold  ༊*·˚  

It’s all a blur from their conversation to an open dressing room door. Erinys blinks, too used to that little quirk of Lewyn’s to be truly startled by it. A grateful nod as fabric is offloaded from his arms to hers, amusement warming her sigh.

“I’m sure it will be fine, but thank you.” Knight offers him a little smile as she reaches for the door’s handle, beginning to shut it between them. “I won’t be long.”

Lock clicks into place and Erinys turns to assess the ensemble before her. She should have no issue getting into it herself, having often waved away the hands that had offered aid back in Silesse. Careful hands work to undo ivory corset ties, easing them until the bodice feels just loose enough to pull over herself.

It’s nostalgic, almost. Layers of satin swallow her for a moment before falling into place at her hips, the skirt’s hem just long enough to brush against the floor. It’s all mostly routine from there – adjusting and tying her corset, rearranging the fabric at her shoulders so it drapes properly over each arm. A moment to sort out the situation atop her head and she’s done.

The mirror, when Erinys finally turns toward it, reveals a stranger. She forgets often just how much time has changed her, for now instead of looking as though she is drowning in all of her finery, Erinys glows. 

She clears her throat, tearing her gaze finally away from the sea of earthy greens that make up her skirt and back towards the door. Hesitation slows her hand for a moment, unforgotten insecurity rising in her throat, but it is only that. Only a moment.

The door opens and Erinys steps out, gaze flickering around for the briefest moment before settling on her husband. She smiles, warmth in her cheeks.

“…well?”

“Perfect. Like I’m marryin’ you all over again.” 

A wistful sigh gets the better of him. Very often is Lewyn impressed by things--usually finding some way to coolly blow people’s efforts off his shoulder. But with Erinys--with the woman who would give up everything she has and then some--he loves her everything. His lips are powerless to resist, curling to their limit as she speaks. His hands, in spite of being folded neatly atop his lap, begin a light round of applause. She deserves it--she always has.

Husband rises from his seat, for his wife’s beauty is not a gift to be squandered. Slowly, he begins trailing around her. It is as he suspected: every inch of her a masterpiece in its own right. She fits what he had picked out for her as though it was all custom-made, down to the last detail. Her hand is picked up in his, he twirls her around as though they are dancing, and once more he speaks, 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a river goddess. Hard to imagine the way you used to dress when we were kids.” 

And finally, as one last shower of praise, Lewyn pushes his face close to hers. He plants a brief but love-filled kiss against her cheek, wanting both to appreciate his lover and be mindful that they are in public. Gazing into her eyes over a backdrop of the night sky will have to be saved for later: maybe they’d find themselves on another rooftop tonight. 

“Course, that doesn’t mean I’m tellin’ you to stay this way forever,” he continues, face moving to a comfortable distance, “dress however you want, and don’t let me or anyone tell you otherwise. I’ll go pick out some roguish suit, and we can wear our outfits to go.”

“‘Feels fun playing king and queen, doesn’t it?”

THREAD END.

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

Lumenhearted

“…oh, sure.” Not that she’s convinced, of course, or doing all too good of a job to fake it, but it isn’t worth dwelling on. The approaching figure interjects and Lewyn does not respond. For a moment Erinys fears that he is at a loss.

But her eyes know immediately where to fall at the touch, dancing between hands. Genius. Truly nothing goes unseen by this man.

“Your husband?” Knight blinks curiously up at the woman, watching as she turns her nose upward.

“Of course. This is a couple’s only ball, you know.”

Said husband nods enthusiastically, relief at his partner’s easy recovery blatant on his features. Erinys frowns, brows furrowing, and nods towards the woman’s hand.

“But you don’t wear a ring?”

Of course, it’s a pretty easy thing to find an excuse for. Perhaps she had lost it, that it was not customary for women to wear rings where she was from, or even that she had just taken it off to wash her hands. 

But a guilty conscious is a clouded one, and the woman bristles instead of supplying an easy answer. Her alleged husband goes pale beneath her touch, which is quickly removed from his shoulder and tucked out of view.

Her voice is a hiss next she speaks. “What is it you want from us then, hm?”

“Ain’t it obvious?” Lewyn scoffs, “The weapon your husband is so feverishly looking for.” 

The ruse has been broken, the disguise unveiled. Her reaction to Erinys’ assail clears any lingering doubt in Lewyn’s mind that this woman is their criminal. Bard’s smirk returns to his face, for he knows what is naturally to come. With little surprise does he react to her unsheathing a pair of daggers from beneath her dress--one pointed at each Silessian. 

She, too, is smirking. But she knows not who she’s dealing with.

“Some date this turned out to be, eh Erinys?” But before she can answer, the fighting starts. Thief flinches for the prince, and he responds with god-given breeze. From beneath the cuff of his suit a gust of wind blows--small enough to not knock her over, big enough to push her back--and Lewyn lets go of his wife’s hand. He circles round the woman, casting another toke of his famed Forseti. 

Only this one does not push. It snakes round her side and recalls back to him when Lewyn balls his fingers into a fist. She is pulled and tripped over the leg of the table, a timbering tree in the wake of his storm. On her way down, though, she manages a single slash against his cheek. Droplets of red fall and splash against ornate flooring like falling rain, but are no skin off Lewyn’s back. He’s dealt with the avaricious before, knows they don’t take kindly to their truth in the limelight. A little nick against his face is a fair price to pay for justice. 

More importantly though, this woman has turned around. In her pursuit of Lewyn, who had so willingly labelled himself a threat to her, she lowered the knife pointed to Erinys. This, too, is part of the prince’s grand vision. He knows that the man is inebriated and a flustered mess--panicking as he tries to scramble to his feet. He shouts some incomprehensible garble, but Lewyn tunes him out. With Erinys behind the rogue, she is not only fighting two-on-one, but at a notable advantage. 

When the thief regains her footing and glares at the bard, she is met only with his mocking smile. Come hell or high water, his faith in Erinys will never waiver; he knows it’s only a matter of time until they win, so why not give ‘em something pretty to look at in their final moments of freedom? 

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

Lumenhearted

It’s only a little hard not to wince at the way his voice raises, the performative air it takes. Erinys lets amusement turn the corners of her lips in a private little smile, warmth creeping into her cheeks at his wink.

But they’re moving again before she can dwell on it, stepping towards the arrangement of drinks. She lets Lewyn choose their position, lets him figure out their angle of attack.

Casual conversation rolls off of his tongue with a practiced ease. Erinys blinks towards their suspect, offering a polite smile. It isn’t returned, the man blinking between them in the way that she herself had been so afraid of earlier – considerably owlish.

And Lewyn’s last little comment doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, the man seems suddenly terrified. Some kind of thief…

“Oh, mm, ah! Yes! The champagne…” Erinys doesn’t miss that same performative note to his tone, only far less natural and poorly practiced than her husband’s own. She also doesn’t miss the sudden movement from a few tables down – the jerk of a chin upright and then its owner’s sudden interest in moving towards them.

Knight remains quiet, watching Lewyn’s little cat and mouse game play out as the other begins to fumble his hands in gestures meant to overcompensate for his lack of words. “It’s… oh, what was that word – mellow! Yes, yes, very soft… Quite lovely. I haven’t had anything quite like it in some time!”

Now Erinys finds herself blinking, confusion hardly feigned. “…is that so? You’ve tried it?” The man nods, approximately four times more than any normal person and with a concerning insistence.

“Should you not have an empty flute of your own, then?”

“Come now, babe. Surely it’s bad taste for an aficionado like him to hold an empty glass. They’re mellow! This is probably his fourth round yet.” 

His smile brightens, though it too is part of the act. It helps reassure the man, take him on Lewyn’s emotional rollercoaster. One moment he feels attacked by the bard, the next he’s being vouched for. A push-and-pull approach opens up plenty of vulnerabilities, as seen by the thief’s bubbly response:

“Y-yes! Oh yes! I just can’t stop polishing them off!” Whenever he finishes blubbering about, he brings his flute to his lips and downs as much as his mouth can handle. While Lewyn watches, he turns to examine the bottle on the other table. ‘Velvet Red: Bitter Finish’ it reads, and that gets a laugh out of him. By the time he turns back around, the fool is a hacking mess. The shade on his face matches his drink, and when it looks like he’s about to keel over...

...the clicking of heels breaks his flow.

“If you’ve had your fun teasing my husband,” a suave woman’s voice suddenly cuts in, its hand placed on the man’s shoulder, “We will take our leave. I’m not sure what your angle is, trying to drunken him up like this, but I assure you he’s had quite enough.”

With her other hand, she produces a trio of empty flutes. They’re given a quick waggle in Lewyn’s direction. Bard’s head cocks over to the end of the plainer table, and quickly confirms a gap--three flutes wide--in the arrangement of drinks. It’s easy to deduce that she dumped them before joining in. She’s crafty; undoubtedly a tougher nut than her supposed spouse.

So Silessian bites his lip and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. His cool starts to waver as frustration furrows his brow. She’s good--damn good--but there’s got to be something he can fight back with. As things stand right now, he and Erinys look like the bad guys. He doesn’t doubt that the crooks would get louder if things continue, and the crowd would certainly not be on their side...

But then he sees it. Just when his mind is resigning itself to cool off, he looks closer at her hand. A band of sterling silver wraps round her ring finger, yet when his eyes peer back at the man’s, they find no match. A gentle tap of Lewyn’s own ring against Erinys’ is his way of communicating this to her--of letting her deliver the final nail. After a solid accusation, there’s a good chance they’ll put up a fight. Lewyn wants to be sure his beloved is ready to join arms at his side again, so he’ll wait for her to prepare. 

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

to have and to hold  ༊*·˚  

Her tastes have always been modest. It’s what had suited her best, she’d thought, what felt the most comfortable. Clothing is a powerful thing, so easily able to draw attention to its wearer.

And standing out had never been a priority of Erinys’, not really. That position was filled, anyway, worn with pride by the jewel of her father’s bloodline.

Being queen had been a wild change, all of the finery of a noblewoman thrust upon her at once. It had been fortunate that then, at least, the choices had never needed to be her own.

Similarly to now, as her husband flits about racks of the most elaborate dresses she has ever seen as though he belongs there. Cautious knight only pokes at a garment or two, brows furrowed in intrigue before inevitable defeat. Each is shot down for one reason or another – too many gems, too bright, too many things ill-suited to flatter someone so simple.

She is just tucking an impressively dense skirt of canary yellow back into its place when her love makes his return. His taste for her is impeccable, all colors and details she adores littering his collection, all dresses that she would never dare pick for herself.

“Oh, um…” Sheepish gaze flickers to her empty arms and then back at him. “Not quite as fruitful as yours, it seems.”

A fact that is likely not going to change, so the forest of silk and satin is abandoned in favor of investigating Lewyn’s offer. Delicately, Erinys picks up the sleeve of a dress, humming her awe at the chiffon’s texture.

“One of these would work. I do like the green…” She dips her chin, starry eyes returning to her partner’s face. “Lead the way?

Stifling a laugh proves too difficult when he finally sees what his wife had been up to. It’s all so her. She rejects intricacy, strays away from that which her self-conscious mind deems her unworthy of. But it is all nugatory. Lewyn finds it adorable; it’s part of her charm, really. “Ahah, never change, Erinys...” 

Each of his fingers are careful to hold one of her accessories tight so that his other hand can reach for hers. He’ll gladly lead the way. And if she doesn’t like this batch, he’ll lead her back to the showroom, then to the fitting area, then back again, and forth, until his queen is satisfied. 

All this, and the giddy grin on his lips. 

Swift Lewyn takes her to where she needs to be in a heartbeat. He’s always been a little quick on his feet--nimbler than most. Be it the effects of holy blood or a byproduct of his precarious lifestyle, he’s mastered the art of zipping through crowds. Pleasantries are exchanged with a staff member, and presto! a fitting room, all Erinys’ for as long as she needs.

Prince presents it to her with a show of his hands, after his effects are unloaded into her awaiting grasp. “Here we are! Take your time in there, alright? ‘Much as I like to rush through everything all the time, I don’t want you feeling like you gotta be in a hurry for me. If anything’s too snug or too loose, I’ll run and grab you a better size.” 

[silesseti]

heavenlywinds​:

twist of love

the prince’s laughter rings bright in her ears— and annand knows instantly that this is a sound she had missed greatly. though she may not be able to be there for queen lahna anymore… perhaps she could turn her devotion to lewyn.

heaven knows he needed it, with all the trouble he got in.

they fall to silence while she contemplates this, and not even lewyn speaking up above the noises of the ground below gets her to completely stop in her tracks. “hm?” she glances his way for a second. what were they going to do if they found fairies out here?

“follow them, probably.” she says with the nonchalance of someone picking what to eat for breakfast and a subtle shrug of her shoulder. “to be honest, i doubt these fairies exist, but in the event that they do i don’t think they’ll quite want to talk. i imagine they could potentially lead to somewhere interesting, though.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Without another word, Lewyn stops dead in his tracks. He has not tripped or been snagged by a stray root--no, this is intentional. He raises his hand to the sky, letting his fingers splay open and out toward the heavens, then WOOSH! glade-hued winds soar from his palm. They push the fog obscuring their vision into a thick-matted wall around them, and--in a matter of moments...

They return. The sylphs, once dancing and roving around the windborne prince of Silesse, find their way back to his magics. Though Lewyn starts to wear a cocky grin as they fly toward him, deep down he was unsure that this would work. In theory it would, but the theories he’s crafted about these creatures have been built upon biased and subjective first-hand experience; nothing concrete is known to him, so it is a miracle he could pull off this stunt. 

He turns back to Annand. None of his charm has left his face, none of that glint fades from his eye. He waits for her to inevitably look at him, and cocks his head toward the fairies. 

“Well? Ain’t you gonna follow ‘em?” 

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

Lumenhearted

This trait of Lewyn’s too is one that she finds herself envying. His knack for subtlety, watching people in a way that doesn’t make them feel seen and yet somehow still see so many details.

She is careful not to do the opposite, only giving the most sparing of glances towards the man he mentions. It’s hardly enough to even get a decent read on his appearance, but that’s better than giving them away by blinking owlishly at a stranger for longer than socially appropriate.

“What a strange place to search for a weapon…” Erinys murmurs as they reunite, the stranger’s silhouette vanishing behind her lover’s shoulder as the pair turns. “But then I suppose any of those could be weapons, technically speaking.”

Their investigation is interrupted once more by the music, bodies moving with the crowd’s ebb and flow as though apart of a collective whole. They blend in with an ease that Erinys is used to, and she finds comfort in that fact. The spotlight was never meant to be her place.

It feels like a lifetime before the strings begin to pluck a lazier tempo. Erinys spares a cursory glance around. They have landed themselves on the side of the refreshments, closer to the edge of the crowd of dancers than before. She isn’t sure if it was Lewyn’s intention or not, but knowing him…

The current suspect loiters a few tables down now, still investigating drinks although this time in far less ornate glassware. The potential excuse of simply admiring pretty cups is eliminated instantly, for what he seems so intent on searching through now look to be fairly standard issue.

Erinys’ gaze flickers to Lewyn. She’s no actress, so it helps immensely when there isn’t a need to act. “…would you mind a break from the dancing? You did mention wishing to investigate the drinks earlier.”

She’s a natural.

Lewyn can’t help but smile when Erinys practically reads his mind. It was by happenstance that he mentioned those drinks earlier, but now, it has proven a surprise tool that helped him later. She has come so far from the meek little thing that could barely ever work up the nerve to speak to him; forever shall she captivate his audience.

“Of course, darling!” he is sure to shout, pronouncing his voice in a way that could easily be picked up by any eavesdroppers. That way, instead of appearing as a pair of surprises to their suspect, they’ll give him time to mellow out his act and lower his guard. “‘Much as I’ve always loved dancing the night away with you, we are still walking home!” 

Before they take off, she receives her congratulatory wink. All is going according to plan, and a little encouragement from her husband might do her some good--lest they fail to keep it that way.

With one last, graceful motion, her hand is transferred from that of a dancer’s grip to a simple lock at the fingers. No matter how it’s held, it feels gentle yet firm to him. Erinys’ hands are those of a trained knight, yet no matter where they go and what they do, they retain their delicate quality. 

If he can, he’d like to protect that feeling, well into their elder years.

“Pretty fancy ball we’re having, eh?” he asks, once they arrive near the booze, “I’ve always been pretty big on drinks--you can ask her--so I was wonderin’ if you could tell me something about this champagne here. Since you’ve been looking at it all night, that is.” 

Though his tone is friendly and inviting, the prince wears one of his foxiest smirks as he speaks. The way he and Erinys are standing now, they’re between the man and the more decorated table. Half of his body and half of hers obscure his view from the bottle, meaning he cannot cross-reference his answer to Lewyn’s question.

Simply put: he’s been caught. The ball is in his court, and the bard cannot help but wonder how he’d struggle to do anything with it.

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

to have and to hold  ༊*·˚  

Knight breathes a soft laugh as Lewyn’s weight slips from her mount’s back. Feathers, for the record, seems to huff her agitation in response. It’s a silly little feud, she knows, developed by her dearest friend for her lover after years of watching jade eyes linger just a little too long on a man with no interest in her.

And though that had changed a hundred times over, Feathers was not so easily swayed. Intelligent as they may be, explaining the truth of the past few years to one would do no good.

So Erinys slips from her mare’s back, offering her a loving pat to her snowy neck. “We won’t be long, alright?” She presses a sweet little kiss to Feathers’ temple, laughing when her only response is another irritated huff. 

( she trusts her friend will not stay mad for long. they both know how many years it has been since she has laughed so easily, smiled so frequently. )

A post is located and Feathers reins looped loosely around it. With one last parting pet, Erinys turns back to her husband.

“Of course,” she shakes her head, amused, reaching to take his offered hand within her own. He is infectious in his excitement, coaxing out her own with an inhuman kind of ease. Once it had been something to be embarrassed by – excitement, often over things so menial as this. Annand was never childish, never giddy over silly things like dresses or flowers or braiding her pegasus’ mane. Annand was a knight, and so too should be Erinys.

But not with him. Never with him.

They fall easily into the crowd of people, hand in hand. It’s fairly fast-moving, not leaving them idle for long at all before both are ushered into the little building. Every wall is lined with fabric, garment after garment, each more extravagant than the last. Every shade of white, from ivory to the palest of pinks and blues, ranging all the way to less traditional and more striking colors.

And that’s just the dresses.

Erinys turns her gaze back to Lewyn, wide and warm and unabashedly eager. “…where do you want to start?”

“Good question,” bard muses, fingers moving to skim the length of some fine-cut silk, “Why don’t we get you all prettied up first? That way I can get excited to match, and you’ll have the charming prince of your dreams!” He is so, sickly in love with her. 

Figuring she’d have no exceptions, Lewyn begins his perusal. Even without his attention to detail, the selection would be impressive. Long-flowing robes lead into streaks of golden finery, which in turn compliment the items with shorter hems. He had always been the adventurous type, so it is to no one’s surprise that he’d wind up in the accessory section. Veils, flower crowns, bags, shoes, necklaces--you name it. If you ever thought you saw your second aunt wear it at a wedding once, it’s there. Hell, half the stuff isn’t even the standard white! If there’s one thing the boutique clearly prides itself on, it’s diversity.

And for a pair weaved into such an oddball fairytale, it feels like home.

Erinys can hear a small hum from her husband as he moves around, dancing from section to section, looking for anything that’d look pretty and in her size. He shoots her a quick “Check this out!“ or “How ‘bout this one?” every time he finds something she might like. In only a matter of minutes, his arm is burdened with two pairs of dresses--one mint-green, the other sapphire-hued--a matching pair of shoes for each, and a pearled necklace. 

“How’s your haul looking?” he eventually asks, calming down from his quick lover’s spree to pay the bride a visit. His free hand shoots her a quick wave as he draws near, while the other holds out what he picked for her to see. “Feel like tryin’ anything on?”

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

Lumenhearted

She hasn’t donned a dress like this in quite some time.

Layers of earthy green chiffon flow around her legs as their way is made through the room. It is unlike anything she would have found back home, but that hardly matters. The last time Erinys had been made to feel like this in a gown had been her wedding.

At Lewyn’s side and dressed in such a way, she could easily tell herself that they were the proper King and Queen of Silesse. A little fairytale in her mind, straightening her spine and making jade eyes glitter dreamily. 

And yet in that same vein, the part of her that has learned how to peer past childish whims revels in the fact that they aren’t king or queen, or even prince and knight. They are as her husband had so longingly sought after all of those years ago; normal. 

“It’s been so long since I have seen a proper ball,” she muses. His laughter and carefree attitude, the exact one that she could somehow find both absurdly charming and miserably infuriating, is something far closer to infectious tonight. Erinys hums her amusement in return. “We do have a job to get done,” she reminds, a lighthearted kind of scolding. “You can inspect the drinks after.”

The music changes and she is swept up into Lewyn’s lead. It’s fortunate that she has a partner like him who moves with an ease that she simply has no choice but to be carried by. Dancing had never been her strong suit, all of the grace in her family line seemingly having been crammed into her elder sister, but she knows well enough now how not to look a total fool.

And it helps to have a partner like hers – a performer, meant to be the one of them that draws the eye.

His flattery warms her cheeks. It would have flustered her into a stammering mess only so many years ago, and it nearly still does, but her focus on not stumbling over him proves to be her saving grace. “It isn’t,” she manages, which she finds herself suddenly glad for. Anything that makes Lewyn look at her like that is well worth keeping.

Music shifts again, tempo quickening in a way that would make Erinys stumble were she alone. Instead, it is as though nothing at all changes. They continue to move, Erinys’ skirts flowing with every turn. It’s mesmerizing – they blend right back in to the flow of dancers and, for a moment, the rest of the ballroom feels a million miles away.

Only for a moment, though. Duty weighs heavier than the stars in the knight’s eyes, and so she tears her gaze from her husband’s and forces it to skim over the crowd instead.

“We don’t have anything on appearance, do we?” They are close enough that she trusts her low tone will be heard. “Just… people who have ill intentions?” Thought draws her brows together and her lips into a frown. “…everyone here looks normal to me.”

“We look normal too, but we’re far from it,” Bard is quick to retort, “It’s the little things you’ve got to look out for...” Their dance continues, Erinys being taken for another turn and step to the tune of the music. With each note Lewyn’s gaze searches further--trying to peer through the biggest masquerade of the night. One moment he’s staring into her eyes, into all the wonder they hold, and then next he’s focused on the crowd. It is a delicate balance to maintain, but as she pointed out earlier, they have a job to do.

“Like that man right there,” he whispers, head drawing closer. Behind her and only visible after their next turn is someone perusing the refreshments table. Lewyn doesn’t point, since his hand is held in his lover’s, but the character is such a sore thumb he figures she’d notice. “See how he’s lookin’ at the flutes? You’ve gotta remember that our culprit has as much of a clue about this weapon as we do. It could be anything.” 

Starry-eyed knight is danced around once more, splitting Lewyn’s dialogue into short passages broken by the ball’s golden atmosphere. Conversation is a double-edged knife. The more they talk, the more of an idea they can generate. But talking too much would make them appear suspicious. On top of ruining the mission, that would intrude upon the fun of others. And Lewyn simply will not have that. 

“If he gave a damn about the drinks, he’d be looking for the bottle.” 

The rest is an easy insinuation. Paying more attention to the glass it comes in rather than the drink itself is cause for suspicion. There is little reason for someone to be interested in clear crystal--not when this is supposed to be a party for the elite. Fine glassware is a staple among the nobility, after all. This leaves the search for the weapon to be the only plausible motive, and between the way that man is both alone and shying off from the crowd, Lewyn is inclined to trust it. Making a move, though, isn’t so simple.

He cannot just waltz over there, for the man would likely notice and scare off. The lyre’s tempo has just picked up, percussion and woodwind soon to follow. Without words, that chorus of bards decide that now would be the time for fervorous merriment. Those who are off the ball floor are clapping along to the music, not stopping to quench their thirst.

So he dances on. Fingers tighten around his woman’s, knowing well that she’d understand their intention. His feet begin to glide. They do not hit the floor with heavy steps, but move with a kind of grace only the breeze ought to have blessed them with. To cause an uproar--to feed into the cheerful shouts and smiling faces of onlookers--would trap them in this dance for the rest of the night. Merely matching the other decorated men and dewdrop women is enough, for their splendor is spread evenly and unnoticeably among them.

It helps that his partner is the woman he loves. Were it anyone else, feigning normality with them would be an ordeal. 

[silesseti]

heavenlywinds​:

twist of love

for a moment the falcon knight stares at the arm offered to her, stifling the chuckle that threatens to bubble up in her throat. she smirks, patting him not quite gently on the shoulder instead. “you’re not a little boy anymore, prince lewyn. don’t tell me you need to hold my hand still?” she teases.

it used to be like that. not anymore. for a second she imagines the young prince clinging to her— a passing thought that causes her to snort at herself. what is she doing, teasing him and then getting melancholic about it right after?

she passes by him, immediately taking the lead. “don’t get lost now.” annand looks back at him for a moment, a gesture to get him to follow, before continuing further into the forest.

“C’mon now, you know it’s just a courtesy thing!” 

He laughs along with her, ducking his head under a branch as he follows. Even when he tries to look neutral and simply walk forward, a grin refuses to leave his face. It is rejuvenating, to not have to keep up the princely act around Annand. She knows him for all his failures, expects of him only what he can actually deliver. She is a companion, in the truest sense. 

The mage is used to running from life’s problems, so catching up to his knight is no large feat. Soon enough, they are walking side-by-side, Lewyn’s head now tilting and casting its gaze outward, on the hunt for those fairies. He remembers that earlier, it was not he found them, but they who found him. So when his eyes can no longer peer through the foggy forest, when his search technically comes up null, he is not troubled.

They’ll make their way back to him, if they want to.

“Say, Annand,” he eventually asks, after the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs becomes more frequent than dialogue, “what’re you going to do when we find ‘em? You don’t suppose they can speak our language, do you? It’ll be hard for them to answer your questions if they don’t...” 

He only asks because of his encounter earlier. While there was no attempt on his end to verbally communicate, the lack of any kind of vocal presence from them has Lewyn dead-set on these creatures being mute. Through shows of light and wind-guided dances they communicate, showing love by swirling around one and fear by dispersing from those they do not trust. To him, they have proven to be a species transcending the need for words.

But it’s like he said: Annand would likely not be able to up and ask them if they brought her back. So he wonders, as he wades through the endless expanse of gray-hued forest floor, if she has some sort of alternative idea.

[silesseti]

heavenlyknight​:

to have and to hold  ༊*·˚  

A traveling wedding boutique has arrived in town! They offer customized wedding dress and suit fittings. Find that perfect dress and get it tailor made to fit your body… and maybe bring a loved one with you while you’re at it! [Grants Faith +1]

Pegasus hooves fall in a steady four-four, clicking softly against the street. It’s a relaxing sound, paired with the spring’s gentle breeze and the quiet hum of people as they go about their day to day.

Erinys smooths a hand down her mount’s neck, settling back in her saddle with a content sigh. It’s a habit of hers now; taking to Fodlan’s skies with Feathers and spending her spare time wandering new towns. 

And today she and her usual partner have a third.

Her posture relaxes, the warmth at her back a nice reminder of that fact. It has been more time than she cares to put a number to since last the two of them were allowed a moment like this – an opportunity just to do something trivial together – and it makes Erinys’ little smile feel impossible to wipe away.

It does seem to have the opposite effect on her mare, however, who flicks her tail or snorts her annoyance any time Lewyn shifts his weight. Feathers always has held a bit of a grudge against Silesse’s prince, and Erinys would dare to call it a relief to see that some things truly never do change.

“I think she’s handling this well,” knight hums, guiding the leather of her reins to the left. They are doing nothing more than wandering, directionless as Feathers carries them though street after street. 

The path chosen leads them into what Erinys would assume to be the town’s market. It’s busier here than it had been before, children laughing as they play and vendors waving signs with produce prices scribbled on their fronts. Feathers moves slower now, picking carefully through the crowd and allowing her riders a better chance to survey their surroundings.

It’s then that she sees it. Looking entirely out of place between old brick and cobble storefronts is a much newer structure. Curiosity gets the better of her, and Erinys encourages her pegasus forward to investigate.

“This is…” eyes narrow as they approach, squinting to make out the letters on the sign from a distance. “A… ‘wedding boutique?’”

Not that it takes a genius to discern what that means between the name and the clearly displayed clothing within. Nor would it take a genius to recognize the way that Feathers slows the closer they get, or that innocent look of interest in Erinys’ eyes.

@silesseti ღ !!

The breeze always did feel softer while soaring high above the clouds.

Of course, Feathers never quite liked that it did. For that always meant more enjoyment for Lewyn, during the times when Erinys would allow him a taste for the airborne life--when she made him wish he had a winged companion of his own. The bard feels bad about forcing himself near her, even now. He understands well why she would hate him, but wishes so dearly that a pegasus could understand all the reasons he had to leave.

He must look even worse, reunited a second time. 

Erinys’ words push that regret aside. She reminds him, merely by speaking, that all things have a way of righting themselves in the end. Her voice is the sweetest birdsong, even in times of anger or despair. If she is sad, she does not wail, but sings songs of sorrow. If she is happy, she does not scream with joy, but produces arias filled to the brim with elation. And right now, her muse goads him to lend his ear. A few simple words, and Lewyn’s attention is all hers.

(When you are so high up in the air, it is hard to think of more than just the two of you.)

Hair is pushed out the way as he turns to face what she had spotted, his hand lingering for a moment so it stays in place. As he squints too, he can see it: the aforementioned wedding boutique. 

“Thinking of giving it a shot?” he chimes, “It could be a bit of simple fun, playing dress up like we ain’t got a care in the world...” Lewyn knows the answer to his question, so as he speaks, he confidently smiles. From behind her, his head comes to crane around and get a look at his wife’s face. And surely enough, there is gold in her emerald eyes-- the spark of interest having lit a fire behind them so it can shine through. As he settles back into his seat, hands coming to grip Feathers’ sides to prepare for landing, he can feel their descent. He sweeps his bangs one last time, fixing any imperfections borne from the wind. His scarf is readjusted too, though when the mare’s hooves do finally touch down, his hands immediately leave to brace himself. 

Erinys can hear him whisper a quick “thanks for the ride” as he slips off, though they both know the pegasus is not likely to appreciate it. Not from Lewyn, at least. He isn’t one to dwell on it, so instead of appeasing the feelings of moody mount, he waves for his wife. The swift bard has almost taken off without her, and only now thinks to beckon her to join him. 

He’s awfully excited about this. 

“Don’t be too slow, now! We wouldn’t want everyone getting to the good stuff before we’ve even shown up!” 

There isn’t a huge line. Sure, people are starting to pour in--those moths drawn to the ever-burning flame of love. But the boutique has more than enough fancy garb to go around. Bard is just being hasty, for when it comes to taking life slowly and engaging in frivolities, he moves with the wind--blowing joy and passion wherever he goes.

At the very least, he leaves a hand out for Erinys to hold. He can be thoughtful and lively.

[silesseti]

Brewing Beauty

Reason and Faith band together to put on this month’s special seminar: the history of tasseomancy! You will be learning the “magic” behind divination and how the old masters used the remains of tea leaves and coffee grounds to predict future events. Just in time for the moon of love, you will all be divining your romantic futures from a delicious cup of white rose tea. [Grants Reason or Faith +1]

This is what he gets for attending but one single seminar. Lewyn thought he’d be in for a little half-hour of fun: learning a new and interesting skill, picking up what should’ve just been a simple hobby. But as the instructor details how everyone is to partner up to actually attempt what they’ve learned, he can feel the regret start to kick in. It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out, not some damned social event...

“Mm. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Hope that’s not too much of a bother.”

Leon. Bard remembers him during the icebreaker activity. Looking back, that should have been indication enough that everyone would have to talk. He was a fool for thinking this would be a simple affair, but... Lewyn shakes his head. There’s no use getting caught up on thoughts like that. He made it all the way out here, so now he is going to play their sparkly little game. The rules are simple, right? Just brew this guy a cup, have him drink it, and try to make heads or tails about what sediment remains. The prince is sure that a great deal of imagination goes into every reading, so he isn’t too concerned about being right or wrong with what he sees. Just make it sound entertaining, he tells himself, because nobody wants a boring fortune.

“I’ll do you, then you do me. That way we both get a round in,” he continues, quick to get started on his preparations. If Lewyn remembers correctly--which he’s sure he does--he has to place his tea leaves inside the pot he’d been lent, fill it with water, and then light a fire under the whole thing. The water would boil and bubble, allowing for the plant’s flavors to come forth in a drink. Careful use of fire magic sets a tiny blaze beneath a porcelain pot, and as it begins to simmer, Lewyn only needs to wait. 

But while he does, how about a little bit of conversation? Sure he knows of Leon, but getting to know him might make this process a lot easier--predicting one’s future can be accomplished by knowing their past. “So... What brings you out here today? ‘Got some reason to be interested in fortune telling, or are you just thirsty?” Though his eye must remain fixated on his teapot, Lewyn’s mouth is free to crack a sly grin. He doesn’t believe the archer’s answer will be anything jaw-dropping, but has high hopes that a man who carries himself the way Leon does would at least say something interesting. 

And if he doesn’t, Lewyn can always shut him up by pushing a cup of tea in front of his face. The plan is foolproof. 

//starter for @hyacinthinegrace

[silesseti]

OCTOBER ACTIVITY POST

Status: Passed

Skill Points Gained: 1

Activity Check > Any +1 > Allocated to faith +1

Skill Changes:

Faith: D > D+

[silesseti]

boo

"Just in time for Halloween..."

[silesseti]

Lumenhearted

Duke Maxifeld has received a letter detailing the planned heist of his family’s priceless heirloom - a weapon said to take on many an alternate form - during his upcoming annual ball. The Knights of Seiros have assigned you and your partner to attend undercover and find the wannabe thief before they act. The event is strictly for couples only. Better make your act convincing! [Grants Any Weapon +1]

Hundreds of feet move with the rhythm of these decorated halls, swirling about like particles of dust in a brewing storm. They move and step, in tandem, in sync. Nothing can stop them save for the transition between songs, and even then, that is only momentary. It is the very picture of bliss. Gold and light shimmer as far as the eye can see--across the walls, on the faces of cheerful women, in the sweet melody wafting through the air. 

They’re all so hopelessly unaware of the tragedy that might befall them. As Lewyn stands in their midst--having easily gotten past the bouncer on account of being the husband of his partner--he cracks a smile. They’re like snow, he thinks, a blanket of happy faces covering what lurks beneath. Just like back home. He feels, then, that the job will be an easy one. Being a man of half-truths himself, Lewyn knows he can tell a fake apart from the true commonfolk. 

He turns to Erinys, placing his hand in hers. Tonight, it is a decorated hand, sprayed generously with a fancy scent and sporting a smart cuff at its wrist. That cuff then trails into the rest of his suit, which is colored midnight-black but contains a floral pattern one can only see if they look close enough. His pants and shoes are of a similar design, but for good purpose. He’s meant to look ordinary. Any flashy clothing or weird accessories would put those would-be thieves on high alert around him. The better he can blend in with everyone else, the easier a time he’ll have tonight. 

“What do you think?” he jests, eye motioning to all the glitz and glamor surrounding them, “Not a bad venue for a date. The food and music are pretty damn good, and I hear the drinks are better.” Something between a hum and a chuckle sounds from his lips, the prince perhaps helping himself to a little too much fun. On the outside, he doesn’t look at all concerned with the shadowy plot about to unfold from under them. His eye remains trained on her, his other hand finding Erinys’ so they can begin dancing. As if on cue, the bards begin their next number: a quick waltz. It’s as charming as it is energizing; a perfect way to start the night. 

“I hope that dress wasn’t a rental, by the way. You look great in it. It’d be a shame to let such beauty go to waste.” Did he mention that he loves his wife? Because he does. And tonight, though the stars remain ever-fixed in the sky, he can see them shining in Erinys’ eyes. It’s fun to dress up and pretend their lives are normal ever once in a while, even if reality is always quick to splash them in the face with its cold reminder. 

But before he can get another word out, the music starts to pick up. People around them have already begun to turn and twist to the beat, leaving the pair of Silessians looking like the odd ones out. With their hands clasped together in holy matrimony, he leads them on. Life on the run has taught him to be pretty good at this thing, what with the Agustrian courts always providing a decent space to practice and all. So Lewyn does not fumble as he moves, does not step on any toes, does not miss a turn. He’s elegant yet easy to follow, like a strong tailwind, always bringing out the best in his peers. 

//starter for @heavenlyknight

[silesseti]

[ SHOP ] The festivities draw merchants from all across the world to sell their wares, but beware: the crowds are ripe for pickpockets, and unscrupulous potion sellers take advantage of anyone who looks confused and gullible.

This… Lewyn guy, right? He didn’t seem very aware of his surroundings, busy chatting someone up. The inside of the Thunder Mouse costume let Soren clearly see someone come up behind Lewyn, quick fingers ready to make a move.

Soren charged.

The thief wasn’t expecting a giant yellow mouse character to bolt at him and he ran off quickly. Soren, however, couldn’t stop himself in time and rushed into Lewyn as the thief ran, bumping hard into his shoulder.

With some difficulty, Soren stooped down and picked up Lewyn’s wallet with his paws, holding it out to Lewyn.

He was playing a friendly heroic character, but he managed to make the head shake with disappointment.

//via midsommar pt. 1; still accepting!

Hey, would you look at that! Lewyn's helping himself to a nice conversation. The townsman he's chatting up seems plenty interested, wanting to know more and more about his days as a traveling bard! It sure would suck if someon-

WHAM!

This is why he can't have nice things. Thunder strikes twice, both in the form of Soren bulldozing him to the ground, and in the other man absconding with the thief. Prince is bewildered, his face unsure of what expression to wear. Should he be hurt, that he took such a big fall? Angry at this giant mouse mascot for charging him like a bull? Or perhaps disappointed, at the pieces he puzzles together next.

He slumps halfway onto his back, arms propped against the cobbled street to keep him sturdy. His bangs need to be pushed into place, the various parts of his outfit readjusted. Thankfully none of his gifts took a beating during that fall. But when he finally casts his gaze upward, at this towering thing before him, he sees his own purse outstretched for him to take.

"Dammit..."

He'd been swindled--or at least, almost. That strapping young gent was probably in on the job, serving to distract him while his partner made away with the goods. Lewyn should've figured there was something up with him; nobody would willingly talk the night away with a complete stranger like he did. It's undeniable that he's been made a fool of.

"Er... Thanks," he manages, shifting his weight so he can take his money back. A quick rummaging of his wallet's contents reveals that everything is intact--down to the last gold cold. Not a single 'g' was wasted, and all thanks to the costumed hero.

"I suppose you're another oddity of this place. Y'know, like those fairies or that little green man," (Look who's talking.) "Mm, but I don't suppose it matters much what you are, doesn't it? Just that you had my back there." The Silessian cracks a smile, however sheepish, and finally stands on two feet. A quick dusting off of his pants and top, and it's almost like none of this ever happened.

"... If I ever find you gettin' mauled by a giant cat, you can count on me to pay you back."