The Blooming Flower of the Battlefield

Closed RP blog; Golden Deer Student Affiliated with The Officer's Academy.

[silviapirouette]

sadtigger.gif

Mission Board: Herald — No Skill Points

with sacrificialspear

[silviapirouette]

"Hmpph! I just got here, and they're already sendin' me away! And now we're here, they were tellin' us to head out, now we haveta stay in? Why'd they even pick me to come along for their dumb trip, anyways?!"

Silvia lies curled up on an armchair by the window, breath misting the frosted glass as one bare foot impatiently taps at the leg of the chair. Unlike the other members of the expedition, she doesn't wear the heavy fur cloaks appropriate for the weather, or even a proper Academy uniform — despite the snowstorm, her attire stubbornly remains the same as always.

She glances back. Most of the expedition team has retreated deeper into the inn's shared guestroom, closer to the hearth that served as the only warmth against the howling storm outside. None of them so much as glance her way, meaning they hadn't heard her. Good.

She wrinkles her nose, still grumbling to herself about the situation.

"Some knights they are, scared about a little bit a weather. Silesse was worse than this. By the time that old worrywart of a captain finishes and gives us the all-clear to go again, it'll be winter all over again! At this rate I could—"

Now that wasn't a bad idea, she thinks to herself. Baile was only a half day's walk away, they'd said. The villagers were preparing a festival, and were sure to be a more welcome sight than the stuffy Knights of Seiros. And surely they would know the proper way to treat a girl like her — she could even perform for their festival, and indulge herself in the atmosphere, and!

Yes, that sounds way better than this lot. She nods to herself. Her mind resolved, Silvia slips dangling feet from the edge of the floor, footsteps silent as she pads to the door and tries the handle.

The door barely budges against the snowdrift outside, but a small crack is all Silvia needs to wriggle out of the snowed-in-inn. The icy air hits her exposed skin, bitingly cold as it pierces through the thin layers of her outfit, but she ignores the chill. Leaving the door cracked open, Silvia clambers up the icy embankment until her feet find solid purchase, barely sinking into the hard-packed snow. Picking the vague direction of the road, she bundles up her shawl and starts walking into the vast whiteness.

[silviapirouette]

Plotting Call: July

Miss Silvia is back, and with her a whole new host of problems! Looking for some new threads to get her started with bothering TOA's population.

Requires Faculty:

Snowstorm: Now, going out in the current weather would be insanity by most people's standards, even with a heavy jacket, or some type of traveling cloak. Going out barefoot while essentially wearing little more than underwear is downright lunacy. Unfortunately, in the not-so-wise words of our resident dancer, "it's just a bit of weather." Amazingly, as long as she keeps moving, she seems to be fine... but once you stop, you now have a cold, wet, soggy liability on your hand that is demanding your jacket, blanket, and rations. I am sorry in advance to your muse if they choose to pick this one up :crylaugh: Taken by Finn!

Non-Mission Board:

Heavy Armor +1: Ball just happened, and Silvia is not happy she missed out. Getting roped to clean up for something that she didn't get to participate in constitutes cruel and unusual punishment. I want her to find someone else there, and ask them about their ball so she can live vicariously through them. Also other cleaning shenanigans, she is not the tidiest person and should not be trusted with a broom. Honestly pretty freeform about how this could go, just looking for something nice and simple. Taken by Lene!

Let's Hold Hands!: Silvia isn't exactly one for lectures. Or training. Or studying. It's a miracle she got into the academy at all, really. She'd much prefer to slip away off somewhere to dance, or perform in town, or take advantage of the free food at the dining hall. And now you're going to be attached to that for a week. Have fun. bonus! Alternatively: Combining this prompt with Reason +1; Silvia discovers some student's stash of illegal potions, and, assuming it was meant for her, drinks them all. Now she's been caught, and being investigated as part of the potion debacle. Your muse is assigned to try to "rehabilitate" her, and also to keep her from causing mayhem until the effects of the potions wear off. So you get to be attached to a super-strong, super fast, extremely hyper Silvia. Surely nothing goes wrong? I am very, very, very sorry in advance to your muse if they choose to pick this one up.

As always, contact however you like, in server or by DM!

[lionscion]

[ CROWDED ] - It looks like with the outdoor venue, some stowaways and uninvited guests have entered the ball, and the already crowded event has become even more bustling. With crowds like this, you find it all too easy to bump into other people, and before you know it, you completely knock another person over! lol

It is rush, rush, rush at the Ethereal Ball. There's just so much to do! A dance floor? A dance competition? There are merchants hawking clothes and food and magical charms and simply not enough time to see it all!

Silvia ducks and weaves through the crowd, taking advantage of her slight frame to squeeze past the throngs of ballgoers. Buzzing with excitement, she slips past another slow-moving couple before her momentum is suddenly met with an immovable wall.

Her shoulder clips an arm, and it is only through a hasty hand reaching out to grab the stranger's sleeve that she saves herself from falling. Silvia flushes with embarrassment.

"Really sorry about that, mister—"

Wait.

Silvia narrows her eyes at the face.

"You—! Aren't you—?"

Hm?

Something so small and green flashing out of the corner of his eye, followed by bouncing so harmlessly off his large frame…

He could only think of one person that could be, and turned around a lot quicker - a lot closer - than he otherwise might have at the picture his mind had already conjured up.

Even after he saw her, even after she dispelled all illusions by opening her mouth, it still took an extra moment for it to clash with the face he’d expected to see. Probably because there wasn’t much to contradict, right down to the Jugdrali accent, but no...

There was no ignoring that glaring hesitation in assigning his name.

Slow as it took, the warmth spark from his golden eyes did finally fade, retreating behind his usual steely gaze. 

“…The Black Knight Ares, yes, and soon the ruler of Agustria.” Any doubts of that would be swiftly dashed by simply looking at his chest while he pulled himself back to readjust his coat sleeve, where his shirt was just open enough to expose his Brand of Hodr etched below his collarbone.

"Did you have business with me?" Arms crossed as he awaited a reply.

[silviapirouette]

"Ares, ya said? Wait, Lord Eldigan's kid?!"

Last she had heard, the kid must have been only four or five, born shortly before Sigurd's arrival in Agustria; but there was no mistake, the man in front of her had the same sharp features and the same unmistakable Brand as the late Lionheart.

Any Agustrian would recognize such a obvious similarity, even a slave.

Still, he looked to be older than her, in his twenties at the least. Such a disparity in age... Whatever had brought her to Fodlan had wiped clean the years interim, it seemed.

Still, it was best, to introduce herself at the very least. Silvia starts.

"Oh! I'm Silvia by the way, I was in Agustria with—"

Her explanation falls short. She can't bring herself to say Sigurd's name. What might he think of

"I'm... I was from Agustria, I mean." Her words trail off.

[fatedsteps]

back in your arms

[fatedsteps]

Thoughts threaten to overwhelm, and Lene can barely think. Does she look alright? Are her hair and makeup perfect? She wants to look just right for Mom. The dancer has spent her entire life looking for her, trying to retrace her steps. It feels almost as if she's in an illusion that they now stand side by side.

That she's found her is enough to give Lene decades worth of warmth. Her heart yearns for more, yet she gives pause. They barely know each other. It should feel strange. But Lene finds herself bursting with energy for once. As long as she has her mom, she'll be okay. That's really the only thing she's ever wanted. To be by her side again. To find her place in life. Everything else is on pause.

If Mom is feeling a bit down, she rubs the thought away. Maybe she's tired or needs a drink. 

"Are you thirsty?" Lene asks eagerly, ready to please. "I can get you a drink if you'd like!" Please, please smile more. 

Lene would do anything and more to keep Silvia by her side. She only hoped her dress pleased her mother.

"Do you like my dress?" she asked shyly, twirling her skirts. "I wanted to look...all grown up. Y'know, proper for the ball.  But I love how relaxed you look." @silviapirouette

[silviapirouette]

"No, no, I'm not thirsty! You don't need to get me anything!" She rushes as she says the words, but still it is so unbelievably foreign to her that the woman flitting around her was her daughter.

A thin smile is all she can manage while she assures Lene that she is dressed well, that her dress is far more appropriate than her own garb.

She wanted to scream that Lene should hate her, that she was not worthy of any of this care, this devotion, but she can't bring herself to do so. To voice those words would only make them true.

"Here." Silvia places the small carved turtle into Lene's hand, trying not to show the emotions roiling inside. She wouldn't leave such a wonderful woman — her daughter — alone again without some sign. To show that she cared, and loved her all the same. What it was didn't matter, but if Silvia were to disappear tomorrow, their time together cut short, she would not make the same mistake twice.

"This is for you. To remember... the time that we share tonight."

[silviapirouette]

There is something about this woman that feels so familiar but Altena can't quite place it. The shape of her face or the size of her eyes or the way her features move as she speaks to some of the other party goers. Maybe a little of all of that. Whatever it is leaves Altena wondering and has her staring trying to piece together who exactly she reminds her of.

Of course the staring does not go unnoticed and she is left trying to come up with an excuse. "Sorry...I...have we met?" It's a terrible excuse but Altena offers up her seashell charm as consolation. "Anyway, here. Take it."

((wow your son that I don't know is your son is like a little brother to me he's my bestie my homie my lil guy))

A strange sense of deja vu washes over Silvia as she matches the brunette's stare. Seriously, this was getting too frequent. Was everybody gonna be like this?

Tensely, she replies, "No." Cautiously reaching out, she takes the shell.

"I've performed for many people in my travels, but I don't think you can say we've met."

Still, the woman's face stirs withing her a deep sense of melancholy, a faint spark of recognition. It's familiar, terrifyingly so, but Silvia dares not try to place it. To do so would only be to tear open scars that had never fully healed.

[silviapirouette]

[ LANTERNS ] - Lanterns shaped like flowers decorate a large table alongside bowls of strips of paper and writing utensils. Guests are instructed to write a wish on the piece of paper and then roll it into the rim of a lantern, and once finished, to set them into the water. The result of everyone's wishes is a truly breath-taking sight of a hundred little lights on the ocean's surface.

"One of my wishes has just recently come true." Deirdre sets a gentle hand overtop of Silvia's before slipping her rolled up dream into a lantern and setting it alight. "I know, if I keep hoping, Naga will smile kindly on me and let us all be together again soon. That is my wish tonight."

Wide-eyed, Silvia looks to Deirdre, fingers tracing over the blank slip of paper in front of her.

"Your wish... To see everyone again. Just like it was before."

How selfish her own wish seems now, unwritten as it is. But is it so much to ask for?

Her brows knit in slight frustration before looking pleadingly to the other woman.

"Can... Can you write something for me?"

[silviapirouette]

Those long, green twin tails. That dancer's posture. Deirdre knows in an instant that this must be Silvia.

She walks toward her, slowly at first, but her steps quicken as her smile grows wider. So many of her old friends have been finding their way here and she rejoices each time she learns that they have escaped their fate just as she has.

"Silvia," her voice is breathy and she reaches for the dancer's hands. "It is really and truly you!"

"M-Miss Deirdre?!" she exclaims.

It's an odd sort of shock that strikes her as she hears that voice again. It is not the shock of an unexpected reunion, of the resumption of time cut short, but rather the continuation of time that may never have existed at all. Silvia had only known Lord Sigurd's wife for a short occasion, but her mysterious disappearance had weighed heavily on the entire army. Her steady presence by Lord Sigurd's side now gone, leaving no trace besides a motherless child. Even counting the ranks of the dead, hers was truly a voice that Silvia fully expected never to hear again.

Warm hands take hers, and that is what grounds her to the moment here, in the present. She studies the other woman's face, and only now does she see the slight differences from the Deirdre of her memory. Face older, more mature. It was eerie, almost.

"Is this where you've been since Agustria!?"

Silvia doesn't mean to, but the question just slips out, sudden and accusatory.

"You've just been livin' here all this time!? Nobody knew what happened to you! Lord Sigurd was all sad-like, everyone was!Shannan said—"

She regrets the words as soon as she says them, but the words lie flat in the air, heavy as smoke.

[nagaficat]

To some extent, Deirdre expects this. Accusations, questions, confusion. It is the same each time she reunites with someone from her first life. She cannot blame them. With so much time and distance between them, of course they do not understand.

What does catch her off guard is the type of questions now posed to her. Does Silvia not know?

"I...no..." Deirdre is unsure how to answer. Her eyes flit from Silvia's, to their hands, to a couple of students passing by, back to Silvia's. "I have been here almost four years now." She wonders how long it has been for Silvia. The other woman still looks so youthful.

"Before that, I was found in Grannvale. I never intended to be taken from all of you. The man who took me, he erased all of my memories and left unconscious and alone. That I am here and able to remember you at all now is a miracle. Silvia...it means the world to me that you are here with me now."

[silviapirouette]

Silvia would almost have preferred to be met with anger, with indignation, because the pain in the other woman's eyes hurts her all the more. Her heart sinks.

Here was a friend, someone who had gone through hardship just to remember herself, and the first words she could find were accusations?

"I—It wasn't meant—! I didn't know—!"

A thousand words spill from her mouth, but none are the words she wants to say.

I'm sorry.

She takes a small step back. Then another. A thousand thoughts stream through her head, and she can't find a way to apologize, to make things right.

"Ihavetogo!"

A flimsy, rushed excuse, but it is all she can bring herself to say before turning and fleeing through the hallways of the monastery.

[silviapirouette]

"Mom! Mom! Look at me!"

Lene practically runs towards her mother. She hasn't seen much of her this evening, but the arrival of the green-haired woman gladdens her heart. 

Maybe the two of them could do all the kinds of things together that she'd always dreamed of. Oh, how her chest burst with excitement. Lene never pictured herself at a royal ball like this, let alone with her mother.

"Let's go see the ocean! But oh, do you wanna dance? What do you prefer, Mom? Let's do something that you wanna do?"

And how dazzling she looked! This was the reason she became a dancer herself. Her mom must be a total heartthrob. Lene loops an arm through Silvia's, leaning her head on her shoulder. "You look so pretty......I just wanna stay next to you..."

Maybe she'd overdressed? Lene tries not to think about it. The only thing that mattered was that they had each other. 

Lene is so excited, ecstatic to be here with her, but it feels as if Silvia is rooted to the spot, and her smile is fragile, laced with glass. A day like this should have been one special to her, cherished and dear. Instead it feels like she is treading on eggshells. What was she supposed to say, what would a mother do? She may have been one by definition, but Silvia sure didn’t feel like a very good one now.

Lene chatters on animatedly, and it is with a strange sense of pride that Silvia regards her again. Her elaborate dress is leagues more appropriate to the venue than the simple dancer's attire that she was wearing. Had she not known better, she could almost believe that the woman besides her was a noble lady. Perhaps it was for the best she had—

No.

Silvia's chest tightens again. How did she address to a daughter the same age as her, anyways? One she barely knew, one she left alone in the world?

“We can do anything you’d like… darling. Whatever makes you happy is what makes me happy.”

An arm wraps around hers, and she stiffens. Immediately, Silvia hates herself all the more for it. Here she is, reunited at long last, and she is keeping Lene at a distance. Silvia tries to relax into the gesture, and only partially manages to convince herself to do so.

The only thing she knows is that even if everything goes wrong and Lene turns out to hate her, she will not leave again. Not like she did last time.

[silviapirouette]

[ GRANNVALE ] 

“Hey, hey, Silvia!” It’s always good to see old friends, even when they haven’t been apart for too long. He appears in a flurry of feathers and wind, just as pleased at playing around at the ballroom as he had been on the school grounds. A person’s nature does not shift so easily, after all. “Care to share a dance with me? This song actually sounds familiar~”

“I’ll even hand you one of my…” A quick check to the charm bracelet, tucked safely in his satchel. “Turtles for your troubles! Come on, it’ll be fun."

"Oh, so now you want to dance?"

Things were never really that simple around Lewyn.

...

That being said, his offer means a lot to her. Not that she'd tell him, of course.

"A dance is fine by me. Just make sure you can keep up, cause I am not slowin' down for you!"

Taking his hand, Silvia allows him to escort her to the floor.

The dance is slow, stately, but the strong rhythm guides her movements all the same as his hand presses against her waist.

"Pshhh, this thing. It was one of the first dances I learned. Not that he went out of his way to teach anything besides how to avoid gettin' hit."

She wrinkles her nose at the memory.

"This one I figured out in a day or two just by watchin'. A stuffy ol' dance for stuffy ol' fogies thinkin' they're so sophisticated and romantic."

The music swells with a flourish, and she breaks from their form to do a small spin, gracefully landing back into position.

"And what's the point of givin' me one of your little turtles, anyways? I got my own right here."

She shakes her wrist to emphasize her point.

[fatedsteps]

rhapsody of dance

[fatedsteps]

Lene had arrived when the monastery was in shambles. She didn't ask for much, just a roof over her head, really, so there was nothing wrong. But when she saw the advertisement for custom furniture she knew in her heart she so desperately longed for it. For something that felt closer to a home that she never had.

But what was home? What did it mean, beyond having a place to sleep and eat? Lene couldn't figure that part out, a fuzzy picture in the distance that she never got to see. So even if she could pair up with someone to make a custom item, the dancer didn't know what. Didn't even have the slightest clue. She didn't have much of a childhood to begin with, learning dance to survive and stay out of the orphanage. 

It bothered her. But there was no real answer. So in the end, Lene continued her exploring of the monastery. 

All she could do was find a good place to dance. Regardless of her negative feelings about dance, it always helped her feel better. Lene searched high and low for a more private setting. This would be perfect. Yet when she stepped into the classroom, someone was already there. A beautiful dancer with verdant hair moved effortlessly through the steps. Lene couldn't help but be entranced. The woman jumped up, and her entire body twisted gracefully. "'Scuse me," Lene tried, "can I ask you something?" Now that she thought about it, they did look like each other a little; she was probably imagining it.  @silviapirouette

[silviapirouette]

It was here that she could truly shine.

The suffocating pressure of the knights and the nobles and the stone walls of the academy, it all melted away. Each step landing as snowflakes on the ground, perfectly in rhythm with the music that she held within, dearer than anything. When each movement could flow seamlessly into the next, only then could she truly feel at home.

It is the creak of a door and a scuff on stone that sends the moment crashing down, and she freezes. A professor now would not be good. It had taken her an hour just to move the chairs and tables out of the way, and she wasn't wearing her uniform. She had thought this classroom unused and secluded, but evidently not secluded enough.

But when she turns to the door, her heart skips a beat. The face looking back at her...

It's not quite her own, but eerily similar. The curve of her face, hair the same shade of green. Even the color of the ribbons she wore resembled her own.

Could it be...?

It takes a moment before Silvia realizes she's staring, and another before she realizes that the stranger has asked her a question.

"I— uh, yes? Go ahead?"

[silviapirouette]

Silvia can't help but gawk at the seaside venue. It's a lavish display, one to rival even the most influential of noble families in Jugdral, with plenty to spare. The sprawling coastal villas dotted around the Adrestian coast were evidence enough of the wanton wealth spent in pursuit of such a scene.

For once, however, she will be enjoying the spectacle rather than being part of it. The small turtle charm dangling from her wrists is proof of that.

Silvia is crashing the ball! Her charm is the Turtle!

Charm Tracker:

Turtle: Lewyn Seashell: Altena Anchor: Pearl: Claude Starfish:

Here is a reference for her outfit!

I don't think that she has anything specifically put together for ball being a student with no income besides occasional dancing on the side

but this is the fancier of her dancer outfits and she's not really there to do much else so...

[silviapirouette]

She is busy preparing the recently-repaired Golden Deer classroom when that ever-so-familiar flash of light green. And if that wasn’t enough, then a peek out of the door to see a girl wearing what looks to be the bare necessities to not freeze during the season serves as ample proof.

“Silvia?!” Lachesis lets go of the classroom door and runs off to catch up with the dancer before she manages to slip away. “I’ve seen many of our allies make it here some way or another…but what are you doing here?”

The princess’s eyes, while golden in joy, thin in deep thought. She’s young - or young enough to play student, but seeing her seated as a student would be a miracle on its own. Dancing instructor, perhaps? Her experience is exemplary by far, but would they really…?

Then they open wide again, Lachesis shaking away the musings. She is being rude toward a former friend. A friend that, in all fairness, she never got as close to in comparison to the other noblewomen, but still a friend nonetheless. 

Dismissing the miracle of both of them standing here, alive after what they’ve been through, would be nothing lesser than sin.

“It is good to see you here nevertheless, Silvia,” Lachesis nods and releases a smile to further express the meaning. “If there is ever anything you need, you have the aid of Professor Lachesis of the Golden Deer.”

"Lachy!?"

It is indeed the Nordion Princess that has found her, and Silvia

"W-Woah!"

The other woman draws closer, and Silvia's eyes widen. The Lachesis that she remembered had been a peer, one of the other members of the army that had been close to her in age. Their differences through life experience had still separated them, but it had always been at least a quiet comfort to have others close to her age, distant though they may have seemed.

The Lachesis in front of her seemed so much older than her; not just in physicality, but in bearing. It was a difference that seemed to speak of an even greater rift between them, of battles unshared and time unlived.

As Silvia cranes her neck up at Lachesis, she is unsure what to say. What should she say, what could she say to someone so familiar yet foreign?

"You're one of those fancy professor types now? How'd that happen? And were ya always this tall!? Have some consideration for a girl's neck here!!"

Well, that wasn't what she had meant to say.

[silviapirouette]

Ice Skating Is Easier When Your Kneecaps Are Intact

April 2025 Mission Board - No Skill Point

with aedsunderstudy

[aedsunderstudy]

After about five minutes on the rink, Laylea discovered that it really wasn’t that difficult. All you need is a good sense of balance, and the ability to walk forward without hesitation. Of course it helped if you had grace, poise, and few enough people on the ice that you could dance to your heart’s content. 

Oh, maybe it wasn’t that easy. Over a decade of dance experience certainly helped. 

After about twenty minutes on the rink, Laylea discovered that even the most energetic ice dancing wasn’t enough to outdo weather cold enough to freeze the pond. She needed to change. 

After about twenty minutes looking through her wardrobe, Laylea discovered that she didn’t have many outfits suitable for winter. Blame the Aed desert. Or Agustria, she’d always kept to the south during winter. 

A couple hours (and a quick shopping trip) later, Laylea returned to the pond. It was mid afternoon now, more classes had ended, Laylea was expecting the place to be packed now. A crowd had formed, and she pushed her way through to see if there was hope of getting on before dusk. 

Then, she saw why the crowd was there. 

You could count the number of skaters on both hands, but if you tried to count you’d stop at one. For the woman in the centre of the pond was so mesmerising. She flew across the ice, green hair trailing behind her like two perfectly placed ribbons, in the cutest winter dress Laylea had ever seen. Every step equal parts extravagant and elegant. Each arm movement deliberate, extending each beautiful movement. One moment, she was leaping through the air, the next, she was skating backwards on one leg. Her eyes met Laylea’s, and for a moment, it felt as if she was performing only for her. 

She was good. 

Laylea stepped onto the ice, an action that few people paid notice to. She took a few laps to warm up, studying the woman’s moves. She made sharp turns, imitating how she did her pirouettes.

At last, Laylea found an opportunity. She turned a corner right ahead of the woman, before making a two-and-a-half turn pirouette, finishing with her skating backwards. She made eye contact with her, and smiled, before making two quick jumps. She made a slight stumble on the landing, and her moves weren’t quite up to the woman’s level, but it was enough to make a statement. 

“I’m Laylea.” She said, circling round to the woman’s side. “That jump with four rotations… could you show it to me again?”

[silviapirouette]

Well, who was she to deny an audience?

"Sure thing I can! I'm Silvia! Oh, but you can call me Silvie." she replies.

With a wink, she takes off backwards, taking a large lap around the pond to falling into the rhythm of the scraping of blade on ice.

As she skates away, Silvia casts an eye back to the other woman. Lithe figure, sharp lines, long black hair tied back into a ponytail. She had a certain air of grace about her, one unusual in many of the students currently windmilling on the ice. Perhaps another experienced in the art of dance, and possibly someone to keep an eye on.

Putting those thoughts out of her mind, Silvia finds that right moment she had been looking for, where the center of the pond was clear of people.

Her right leg pushes forward, sweeping it outward as her left crouches low. In a single fluid motion, her body's tension uncoils serpentine-like as she rises off the ice, seemingly lighter than air.

Translational momentum suddenly becomes rotational, and the world blurs around her as she tucks her arms and legs close, and for that brief moment she is flying, twintails spiraling as if propellers. Gravity finally, almost delicately takes hold, and she lands lightly back on her feet, legs and arms extended in a dancer's flourish to arrest her rotation.

Breathlessly, she skates the short distance back towards the center of the pond to continue the conversation.

"Laylea, you said? You're a dancer too, arent'cha?"

Silvia smiles, eager to chat away some more. "I noticed ya goin' around earlier. You ain't half bad yourself!"

[silviapirouette]

𝆔 April Activity Check 𝆔

𝆔 ›› Status: Passed

𝆔 ›› Skill Points Earned: 1 Activity Check: +1

Allocated to Authority; (C -> C) Total: 4 -> 5

𝆔 ›› Rank Rewards:

N/A

𝆔 ›› Accessed Classes:

N/A

𝆔 ›› Mastered Classes:

N/A

𝆔 ›› Thread Tracker: 4 Active

song abound, step around - with vallitevoice (Reason +1) Status: Writing Ice Skating Is Easier When Your Kneecaps Are Intact - with aedsunderstudy (No Skill Point) Status: Writing mail call! - with jasperblion (Authority +1) Status: Writing rhapsody of dance - with fatedsteps (No Skill Point) Status: Writing evergreen and marigold - with sunncutter (No Skill Point) Status: Writing

If you don't see your thread here or the status is incorrect, let me know so I can correct it!

𝆔 ›› Completed/Dropped Threads:

N/A

𝆔 Silvia's Choreography Book 𝆔

[silviapirouette]

Those long, green twin tails. That dancer's posture. Deirdre knows in an instant that this must be Silvia.

She walks toward her, slowly at first, but her steps quicken as her smile grows wider. So many of her old friends have been finding their way here and she rejoices each time she learns that they have escaped their fate just as she has.

"Silvia," her voice is breathy and she reaches for the dancer's hands. "It is really and truly you!"

"M-Miss Deirdre?!" she exclaims.

It's an odd sort of shock that strikes her as she hears that voice again. It is not the shock of an unexpected reunion, of the resumption of time cut short, but rather the continuation of time that may never have existed at all. Silvia had only known Lord Sigurd's wife for a short occasion, but her mysterious disappearance had weighed heavily on the entire army. Her steady presence by Lord Sigurd's side now gone, leaving no trace besides a motherless child. Even counting the ranks of the dead, hers was truly a voice that Silvia fully expected never to hear again.

Warm hands take hers, and that is what grounds her to the moment here, in the present. She studies the other woman's face, and only now does she see the slight differences from the Deirdre of her memory. Face older, more mature. It was eerie, almost.

"Is this where you've been since Agustria!?"

Silvia doesn't mean to, but the question just slips out, sudden and accusatory.

"You've just been livin' here all this time!? Nobody knew what happened to you! Lord Sigurd was all sad-like, everyone was!Shannan said—"

She regrets the words as soon as she says them, but the words lie flat in the air, heavy as smoke.

[jasperblion]

mail call!

mission task: excavation (authority+1)

[jasperblion]

“Alright! So just drop them off at the right place, and drop off the bag when I’m done? Sounds easy enough!”

With a brief repeat of the mission that he’s just been assigned, Alm makes his way out of the post office - after only hitting the door’s side once with the partially oversized white sack. While this is his first real visit into this newfound underground town, this is far from his first time having to help out the local citizens with any small tasks. It really takes him back to Ram, even if his home is oceans away at this point.

Still…maybe the eager king should have asked for more context before simply declaring that he’s got it. For one…what does a village this small have the need for a post office in the first place? Surely a town of this size can afford to have its residents pass messages to one another without the need of a mediator. Unless…are the contents within each letter that important to keep to pen and paper over spread of mouth?

Second, and this is a point he can feel over think…why the hell is this bag so heavy?? The sack of letters was only just given to him, with no time for him to review its quantity. And he’s used to lugging around heavy stuff for sure, but again…does a town this small need a letter load this big? Part of Alm now wonders if this “post office” is just pulling his leg…

Nah, he shouldn’t think like that. Not until giving the whole job a fair shake, after all. But first thing’s first, he’s gotta check where each of these mail pieces actually go. He could just go from location to location and check the entire sack there…but that seems pretty aimless. Why not check it now for some sort of direction?

It is the instant that Alm hefts the luggage from his shoulders to his front that a figure wooshes! right on by, knocking the bag from his hands and likewise spilling paper all over the town’s road.

"Nooo!” the Valentian instinctively cries out before acting on another, less desirable instinct. “Hey! Anyone ever told you to keep your eyes on the road?! Now look at what you did!”

@silviapirouette

[silviapirouette]

Apparently part of the reason they were even here in the first place was to cozy up with the locals for something the Church wanted out of them. Not that Silvia had paid attention to the briefing of their mission, anyways. That was for the bigwigs and goody-two-shoes in her House. She just wanted to get away from her classes, maybe even do some shopping.

Which made it all the more annoying when that professor had told her to deliver a jar to the angler's, wherever that was. Still, the added incentive of the rest of the week off was too good to pass up, so she'd play their game. For now.

The sooner she got this jar of bait to whatever fisherman or something, the sooner she could get to enjoying the rest of that week.

She could explore the market tomorrow morning, maybe try to find a— Whump!

Around the corner comes a large white bag, larger than she is, and she is knocked flat on her butt. Her tailbone smarts from the fall, but more concerning than that is her jar of... was that dirt? lay shattered on the ground among squares of paper.

Quickly she finds the offending party, a young man with green hair. He is already complaining about the mess on the ground. As if it was her fault! The gall!

Scrambling to her feet, Silvia marches up to him, mouth flying as she jabs a finger into his chest.

"Well, excuse me, Mister Fancy Boots, trompin' around here with your big ol' bag like you own the place! Maybe you should look where you're goin', so you don't go around running over poor little innocent girls like me! Hmph!"

With that, she does an about-face, smacking him with the end of one of her twintails as she storms away.

She has just rounded the corner when something makes her pause for a moment. Wasn't she forgetting something?

Oh yeah, her jar of bait!

Backtracking to the mess in the corridor, she

Something slimy wriggles over her bare toe, and Silvia screams.

"Eugh! Who puts worms in a mail bag?!?! What's wrong with you?!?"

[ohisms]

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 .    (  a  collection  of  100  nonverbal  action  prompts .   mature  and  potentially  triggering  themes  are  present .   add  “ + reverse ”  to  swap  assigned  roles . )

∗ o1﹕ sender  tucks  hair  out  of  receiver’s  face . ∗ o2﹕ sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . ∗ o3﹕ sender  places  their  feet / legs  in  receiver's  lap . ∗ o4﹕ sender  offers  receiver  an  earbud  to  share  their  music . ∗ o5﹕ sender  comforts  receiver  in  the  aftermath  of  a  nightmare . ∗ o6﹕ sender  gives  receiver  company  in  the  hospital . ∗ o7﹕ sender  wraps  their  arms  around  a  hysterical  receiver  to  calm  them . ∗ o8﹕ sender  shows  up  at  receiver’s  home  late  at  night . ∗ o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver . ∗ 1o﹕ sender  wields  a  [ gun / knife ]  at  receiver . ∗ 11﹕ sender  runs  their  fingers  through  receiver’s  hair . ∗ 12﹕ sender  invites  receiver  to  dance . ∗ 13﹕ sender  takes  a  [ picture / video ]  of  receiver . ∗ 14﹕ sender  places  their  head  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 15﹕ sender  and  receiver  make  eye  contact  across  a  busy  room . ∗ 16﹕ sender  pushes  receiver  against  a  wall  to  kiss  them . ∗ 17﹕ sender  and  receiver  cook  together . ∗ 18﹕ sender  comes  to  receiver  after  being  injured . ∗ 19﹕ sender  sits  in  receiver’s  lap . ∗ 2o﹕ sender  lifts  receiver's  chin ,  invoking  eye  contact . ∗ 21﹕ sender  overtakes  receiver  in  combat . ∗ 22﹕ sender  finds  receiver  [ injured / bloodied ] . ∗ 23﹕ sender  straightens  an  article  of  receiver’s  clothes . ∗ 24﹕ sender  crawls  into  bed  with  receiver . ∗ 25﹕ sender  rolls  their  eyes  at  receiver . ∗ 26﹕ sender  lights  receiver’s  [ cigarette / joint ] . ∗ 27﹕ sender  is  caught  wearing  receiver's  clothes . ∗ 28﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  with  a  pillow . ∗ 29﹕ sender  writes  a  note  on  receiver’s  skin :  [ note ] . ∗ 3o﹕ sender  wraps  a  blanket  around  receiver’s  shoulders . ∗ 31﹕ sender  runs  and  jumps  into  receiver’s  arms . ∗ 32﹕ sender  shoves  receiver  out  of  anger . ∗ 33﹕ sender  hovers  over  receiver’s  shoulder  as  they  complete  a  task . ∗ 34﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  somewhere  they  shouldn’t  be . ∗ 35﹕ sender  curls  up  against  receiver  in  their  sleep . ∗ 36﹕ sender  is  found  drunk  by  receiver . ∗ 37﹕ sender  throws  an  item  of  sentiment  bitterly  at  receiver . ∗ 38﹕ sender  joins  receiver  in  the  shower . ∗ 39﹕ sender  is  caught  following  receiver . ∗ 4o﹕ sender  traces  one  of  receiver’s  [ scars / bruises ] . ∗ 41﹕ sender  twines  their  fingers  with  receiver’s . ∗ 42﹕ sender  barges  into  receiver’s  home  unannounced . ∗ 43﹕ sender  kicks  receiver’s  shin  beneath  a  table . ∗ 44﹕ sender  aggressively  shoves  past  receiver . ∗ 45﹕ sender  kisses  receiver’s  [ forehead / cheek ] . ∗ 46﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  out  of  harm’s  way . ∗ 47﹕ sender  is  found  sobbing  by  receiver . ∗ 48﹕ sender  locks  receiver  out  of  their  room . ∗ 49﹕ sender  brings  receiver  [ coffee / tea ]  in  the  morning . ∗ 5o﹕ sender  rests  their  forehead  against  receiver’s . ∗ 51﹕ sender  plays  a  song  for  receiver  that  reminds  them  of  them :  [ song ] . ∗ 52﹕ sender  takes  a  [ punch / stab / bullet ]  meant  for  receiver . ∗ 53﹕ sender  buys  receiver  a  drink  at  a  bar . ∗ 54﹕ sender  needs  receiver’s  help  getting  in  the  bath . ∗ 55﹕ sender  and  receiver  cross  paths  in  the  kitchen  late  at  night . ∗ 56﹕ sender  twists  receiver’s  arm  behind  their  back . ∗ 57﹕ sender  winks  at  receiver . ∗ 58﹕ sender  is  found  collapsed  by  receiver . ∗ 59﹕ sender  prevents  an  injured  receiver  from  getting  up . ∗ 6o﹕ sender  claps  a  hand  over  receiver’s  mouth  to  silence  them . ∗ 61﹕ sender  cages  receiver  against  a  [ wall / the floor ]  with  their  arms . ∗ 62﹕ sender  storms  away  from  receiver  during  an  argument . ∗ 63﹕ sender  is  found  by  receiver  sleeping  in  receiver’s  bed . ∗ 64﹕ sender  [ applies / touches up ]  receiver’s  makeup . ∗ 65﹕ sender  throws  receiver  into  a  wall  during  combat . ∗ 66﹕ sender  dances  sensually  with  receiver . ∗ 67﹕ sender  strikes  receiver  across  the  face . ∗ 68﹕ sender  places  their  hand  on  receiver’s  leg  while  driving . ∗ 69﹕ sender  pulls  a  chair  out  from  under  receiver . ∗ 7o﹕ sender  catches  receiver’s  wrist  when  they  turn  to  leave . ∗ 71﹕ sender  leaves  an  intimate  mark  on  receiver . ∗ 72﹕ sender  beats  receiver  in  a  video  game . ∗ 73﹕ sender  and  receiver  stand  in  stunned  silence  after  a  fight . ∗ 74﹕ sender  cares  for  receiver  while  they’re  sick . ∗ 75﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  on  a  hike . ∗ 76﹕ sender  is  caught  snooping  in  receiver’s  things . ∗ 77﹕ sender  and  receiver  cuddle  while  watching  television . ∗ 78﹕ sender  throws  something  aggressively  at  receiver . ∗ 79﹕ sender  creeps  up  behind  receiver  to  scare  them . ∗ 8o﹕ sender  and  receiver  go  shopping  together . ∗ 81﹕ sender  helps  receiver  [ dye / style ]  their  hair . ∗ 82﹕ sender  draws  receiver  into  a  kiss  by  the  back  of  their  neck . ∗ 83﹕ sender  is  discovered  having  a  panic  attack  by  receiver . ∗ 84﹕ sender  accidentally  injures  receiver  during  sparring . ∗ 85﹕ sender  grabs  receiver  roughly  by  the  hair . ∗ 86﹕ sender  brings  receiver  to  their  knees  during  combat . ∗ 87﹕ sender  shows  receiver  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ∗ 88﹕ sender  winks  [ seductively / mockingly ]  at  receiver . ∗ 89﹕ sender  yells  at  receiver  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air . ∗ 9o﹕ sender  helps  receiver  patch  up  a  wound . ∗ 91﹕ sender  holds  receiver  as  they  cry . ∗ 92﹕ sender  silently  and  angrily  points  receiver  towards  the  door . ∗ 93﹕ sender  gestures  for  receiver  to  sit  down . ∗ 94﹕ sender  pulls  receiver  into  their  lap . ∗ 95﹕ sender  cradles  receiver’s  face . ∗ 96﹕ sender  tackles  receiver  out  of  the  way  of  danger . ∗ 97﹕ sender  has  hidden  an  injury  from  receiver ,  and  receiver  finds  out . ∗ 98﹕ sender  confronts  receiver  about  their  unhealthy  behavior . ∗ 99﹕ sender  proposes  to  receiver . ∗ 1oo﹕ sender  has  just  died ,  receiver  finds  out .