to serve

Limstella | closed & affiliated with FERP

[subservio]

// Well, it’s been a great three years, but neither Fire Emblem nor FERP are particularly interesting to me right now. I definitely enjoyed my time with Limstella, however short it was, and regret leaving their threads with Silas and Henry especially, but I’d rather not keep my partners waiting for weeks at a time simply because I can’t muster the motivation.

Maybe that motivation will return with the release of Three Houses, but who knows. At the very least, I know that I can always come back here when the mood strikes.

To those of you who would like to keep in touch with me, shoot me an IM for my Discord. I also have a (non-FE) indie blog that has been keeping me occupied lately, if anyone here is also in indie and would like the link. I’ll give that out privately as well.

Otherwise, best of luck to the rest of you, Ree

[subservio]

In Sheep’s Clothing [Event: Limstella & Silas]

[subservio]

nohrianlance‌:

“…I see. My condolences for your loss.” Silas says carefully. He tries not to show his concern, so that he doesn’t worry Limstella, but his brows furrow in concern anyways. No one? At all? Limstella says she used to serve someone, but from what he knows of her from this short conversation Silas has a feeling that they weren’t familiar, at least in her perspective.

She reminds him strongly of Beruka, mostly in the way they talked. Do they feel the same way too, with numbed emotions? Do they share similar perspectives, that every gesture of friendship should be met with suspicion in a world where trust is a “liability”? Perhaps not the second one, Silas concludes, as Limstella had approached him quite eagerly in a way that Beruka would never do. But that does not eliminate his first thought. 

“I’m sorry to pry, but I have a question about this man you served. If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” Silas watches Limstella’s face carefully, attentive to every detail. “Who was he to you? Your lord, or perhaps a teacher?”

Not knowing how to respond to sympathy, Limstella instead lets the conversation settle into silence, content to simply stand there next to Silas and observe the rest of the partygoers from the safety of his relative companionship. But he speaks again after a quiet moment to gather his thoughts and Limstella looks at him once more with the faintest glimmer of curiosity in their eyes. He has already given them so much to think about once they return - to wherever they will go next when this party comes to an end - that they find themselves eagerly awaiting what further insight he can provide for them.

But rather than more philosophy, more education about the nature of friendship, he poses a question that Limstella had not expected. One that rings of personal curiosity, for it seems to serve no other purpose to someone not of Elibe. Limstella considers their answer carefully, suddenly uncertain of the surest thing that had been in their life.

“… Lord Nergal… was both lord and teacher to me.” They pause, eyes lowering. That didn’t seem right either.

“I owe my existence to him.”

[subservio]

Stained [Event: Limstella & Eliwood]

[subservio]

devotedscarletknight‌:

Their response was simple and yet, it brought forward further complication. It was difficult to believe that a former foe’s intentions were were transparent; without any further purpose or malicious intent. Yet, Limstella appeared to speak with sincerity, causing the lord find himself coveting the ability to believe them. Eliwood was not one to easily be deceived and the morph did not seem to produce any signals to indicate they were lying. Can a morph even know to tell a bluff? The lord wondered to himself. Was it…emotion that drove them to approach me?

His eyes met Limstella, searching for a motivation, an answer as to what had driven them to make an approach. The only fathomable explanation in the young lord’s mind was perhaps a desire to put him at ease. Eliwood was acutely aware that had Limstella not approached him themselves, he certainly would have been stricken with concern and panic seeing them among a crowd amidst a celebration. But how was he to know a morph’s true capabilities? Only Nergal would have known and understood the limits of their comprehension. The line between what made them inhuman and what was human.

“I see,” Eliwood replied calmly, shifting his hand to his breast, “if that is true, then I shall not assume you intend to cause harm…unless something changes. In any case, if you intend to remain at the festival…be mindful of yourself. Others…would not understand.”

It was this that finally appeared to make its way through to Eliwood and smooth the discomfort that had settled creases in his face. Limstella gave a small bow in turn, and made note of the way the young lord had received the directness of their proposition. Perhaps stating intent was the crux of human interaction, they wondered, and made a note to begin all future conversations in a similar way.

However, Eliwood’s final words of caution cast doubt over this revelation, and Limstella lifted their eyes to his again.

“What is difficult to understand?” they asked. “Is this not how humans communicate best?”

[subservio]

Familiarity [Event: Limstella & Henry]

[subservio]

ravensnruin‌:

‘Purpose’ is to the Plegian a heavy word. Long has he traveled in search of his own way forward, and he cannot yet claim to have found it. But as for the flowers, and why they’ve been gathered in such a way… they have more of a purpose than he does, and that fact is a tad irksome. But at the least he has an answer:

“They serve as decor. Brights and colours are favoured over bleaks and grays for festivals like these.” Not that he’s bothered to dress for the occasion. His usual will do. “Then, after the festival is over, the only job they have left is to wilt and die, ha ha!”

When Limstella doesn’t take the flower, he considers for a moment continuing to hold it out - he is, after all, stubborn, but he’s not exactly patient. Instead, he snaps the stem and tucks the remainder behind his ear and beams with mirth. “Might as well make the best of their short time here. Anyway! I had an idea, Limstella. Since the theme of this whole festival is about forging bonds… maybe we should become friends! Whatcha think?”

“I see…”

Limstella watches Henry slip the flower behind his ear, a splash of stark color against his somber attire. They feel a sudden kinship for it - and all the others that are destined to wilt away after their jobs are done - and reach a hesitant hand toward a nearby vase. Uncertainty of their decision to act on their own stills their hand over one flower though, and then they retreat.

They can’t do it. Not yet.

Henry speaks of friends now, and his offer leaves Limstella speechless, unable to process it. Unable to fully understand his motives.

“You would… become friends with… me?” they ask. “I am merely a puppet.”

Sonia’s sneering voice cuts them even as they quote her words, and they are reminded of her warning to remain subservient to humans, but they are curious, too. Henry speaks with such enthusiasm and a lack of wariness. Would it matter to him, then, that they were not alike?

[subservio]

In Sheep’s Clothing [Event: Limstella & Silas]

[subservio]

nohrianlance‌:

Silas stares at Limstella for a few moments before nodding slowly. “…Useful, maybe. Friendships can be useful in certain circumstances.” She said her conclusion as though she had finally understood something, even though it’s far from what Silas meant. “But I personally wouldn’t use that word when it comes to people,” he chides gently. “Useful is a word for tools, things like hammers and swords. People aren’t tools–they’re, well, people. Human beings. Just like me and you.”

Why is friendship suddenly so hard to explain? And why am I explaining it to a grown woman?

“Think of it like this,” Silas says, beginning his explanation anew. “Surely there’s someone in your life that you care about very much. Someone you’ve met that’s touched your heart and changed your life forever.” He places one hand over his heart for emphasis, thinking of Corrin as he does. “Someone you admire, who pushes you to be the best version of yourself. Someone you’d fight to protect. Someone you can depend on and trust beyond a doubt, because whatever you do for them they would do for you. A person like that shouldn’t be compared to a tool, right? Because they’re not a sword or a hammer. They’re your friend.”

Peculiar.

He goes through such lengths to explain himself that Limstella cannot help but listen intently, though it is his assumption that he speaks to a fellow human that elicits the adjective in their mind. How can he not see, they wonder, especially as he delineates tools from people? Limstella had always been merely a tool for Lord Nergal, hardly even allowed to speak to humans in any other way than that of a servant.

And yet this man does not see a difference.

Their eyes follow his hand to his heart and they quietly mimic him as they consider his words. Is there anyone they have ever cared about? Had care been what they had felt for Lord Nergal? They feel their heart beating on the other side of their palm and close their eyes to listen to its rhythm. Perhaps Silas had felt something here in his own chest as he spoke, but Limstella could detect nothing new.

“... I fear that there is no such person in my life,” they answer at length, eyes batting open and returning to study Silas’ face. Would be be disappointed by that answer?

“There was once someone I served. ... But he is gone now.”

[subservio]

Stained [Event: Limstella & Eliwood]

[subservio]

devotedscarletknight‌:

Decrying Nergal before his creation…was that wrong? Eliwood wondered to himself, his eyes reflecting nothing but consternation as he debated his own thoughts and actions. He was dismayed that his tongue had become so loose amid his own insecurities. Is it akin to criticizing an individual’s parent? He didn’t have an answer. He couldn’t claim to know Nergal’s relationship with his morphs…other than giving them orders and his authority over them. Was it even sensible, to feel such feelings of guilt towards someone that likely couldn’t feel anything at all? He shook his head in self-discipline.

“My apologies. It was cruel of me to speak of the one you served in such a churlish fashion. They are words I should not have spoken.” He paused, attempting to gather his wits. Was there any more that needed to be said? What were Limstella’s intentions in approaching him? To truly make peace? Or was he simply a recognizable face? He drew in a deep breath.

“What do you want of me? I fear I do not understand your intentions…” 

Finally, the composure he had been attempting to locate.

Neither expecting nor accustomed to receiving an apology, Limstella could not answer right away. They had not detected the “cruelty” the young lord admitted to being behind his words, but they wondered faintly if that had been what had started that peculiar, unpleasant sensation inside them. They would ponder the transaction at a later time, however.

“I desire nothing,” they answered instead. “I was once ordered to kill you, but with my master gone, so are my orders.”

Limstella looked down at the ring they had offered earlier and considered if now was the time to present a gift. They turned it thoughtfully with the fingers of their other hand, but decided against it.

“I merely intended to convey that I will not harm you. That is all.”

[subservio]

Stained [Event: Limstella & Eliwood]

[subservio]

devotedscarletknight‌:

“Hatred is the child of fear, anger, and resentment. Allowing oneself to be consumed by hate only surfaces forth more suffering,” Eliwood replied, his answer nearly immediate, his eyes reflecting an unwavering ideal, “I refuse to subject myself to such thinking. Hate is negative feeling and thus, it can only result in a negative consequence. At least, that is what I believe.” His answer likely extended past that of which the morph was seeking, but Eliwood deemed it necessary regardless. Hate drove even the kindest of people into rationalizing the worst as a necessary evil for some perceived “greater” cause.

His thoughts lingered back to Nergal and his morphs, the very detail that had brought forth so much sudden discomfort and emotions. A man that had been corrupted, then driven by his own self-interest. It was a tragic tale. Eliwood didn’t believe that a person could truly be born evil. It was influence that shaped someone to become profoundly immoral. 

Perhaps that is also why he finds himself unable to hate Limstella. They are not human, but they were created by an evil hand. Killing and serving Nergal was all they knew. They never had a chance to discern for themselves the morals from which the world operated. How could he place the blame on them? Their hand has killed, but does being misguided excuse their sins? But would they ever tread along the right path?

“Nergal’s greed guided his hand, coordinating the deaths of innocents for his own cause. He cunningly attempted to start a war to fuel his own selfish goals. I once felt something akin to anger towards him…sadness and pain. But I have never hated him. I only pitied him for losing his humanity.”

Why had he said such a thing? It was not questioned nor prompted, but impulse drove him to say it. His lack of composure brought him discomfort.

“Pray, forgive me. I am…overwhelmed.”

Eliwood attempted to rationalize his emotions, as humans often did, elevating himself above his baser instincts, yet Limstella could neither believe nor doubt him. Hate itself they did not feel, and could only conceptualize it as a retaliation. Had Eliwood retaliated against those who had harmed him? From Limstella’s point of view, it seemed so, but perhaps something else fueled him...

Then something sparked inside of them, like a small flame burning their insides. An uncomfortable sensation, and Limstella found themselves focused on Eliwood’s condemnation of their master.

“Lord Nergal did not need pity.” Their tone remained unchanged, and yet as they spoke the words, they felt as if a valve had opened and released some of that fire. But Lord Nergal was also dead, and defending him was a senseless waste of time. The flames extinguished and Limstella regarded Eliwood with a different curiosity. Pain etched his face, the conversation appearing difficult for him, but it had not been Limstella’s intent to cause the young lord harm.

“Shall I leave you?”

[subservio]

sonofanohrian‌:

@subservio

Continued from here.

An odd refusal met the boy. The woman could’ve just said she wasn’t hungry. Though, Dwyer wasn’t one to scrutinize someone’s dialect. It was not in his place to question it. Heaving a sigh through his nose, he set the plate down next to him as he settled beside the party’s other spectator. Really, it was here where the crowd was just the right distance away to observe without being dragged into the heart of the festivities.

His eyes met her briefly before they began to tail a young couple, strolling with their hands intertwined.

“It’s too loud… I’m merely here to be a servant, making sure everyone has their fill of food or whatever.”

He then focused his attention on the other beside him, “You don’t seem to be here to socialize either. It’s not really my place to ask, but… what brings you to this event?”

Another servant. Limstella scrutinized the boy, but his quintessence was that of a human, and the flicker of surprise - or hope, though Limstella would not recognize it as such - that they had found another Morph extinguished at once. Still, it was less presumptuous of them to converse with a boy like him than with the many nobles and monarchs that roamed the halls.

“A gate,” they replied to his question. “I believe that this is a final gift from my master.”

But as their eyes swept out toward the crowd again, they began to wonder once more about what it was they were supposed to be seeking.

[subservio]

In Sheep’s Clothing [Event: Limstella & Silas]

[subservio]

nohrianlance‌:

“Yeah, in some sense.” Silas looks out at the crowd as well, trying to look for whatever caught Limstella’s attention. When he can’t find it, he returns his attention to her. She’s beautiful (even if that word feels too cheap to describe her), but there’s something mysterious about her, not quite off but definitely strange. This is what a moth must feel when it flutters close to a flame, Silas thinks as he looks at her. Drawn to the light yet aware of the embers singeing its wings.

Silas pushes the thought away. How ridiculous. He’s been assured that this place is perfectly safe. This is a time to relax, not to get himself worked up over an active imagination.

“It’s more about love, actually,” Silas continues, before quickly adding, “uh, all types! All types of love.” If Limstella misunderstands him, he very well might die where he stands. “Not just romantic, but platonic, familial… we’re celebrating the bonds we create with the people we meet throughout our lifetimes. You can’t go through life by yourself, you know. Even in Nohr–where I’m from–we rely on other people for help and support. We have a saying for that.” Silas clears his throat before speaking in a low, serious voice, the way he imagines the authors of textbooks speak, “Friendship tempers brittle iron into unyielding steel.”

Love. Bonds. Support. Friendship.

One foreign concept after the next. Limstella listens, but struggles to find some connection to what they already know, and contemplates Silas’ explanation silently for several moments.

They recall Eliwood and his comrades, how strong he had been with just a handful of friends at his side, but also how easily he had been manipulated with his love for his father. Sonia, too, had used love to keep Brendan Reed in line. And friendship, according to Silas, creates stronger weapons. Had that been Limstella’s own connection to Lord Nergal? Had they been friends?

“I see…” Limstella murmurs, at last arriving at some sort of understanding. “Bonds are useful.”

[subservio]

👕"I noticed your hair keeps blowing around in this wind. I thought this might help!" Silas offers Limstella a hair ribbon, red with small white flowers painted on one side. (hope you don't mind me sending one back!)

Forging Bonds Event [x] | accepting

The wind? Limstella had never cared about the wind, nor their hair before, but the offering draws their eyes. No one had ever given them anything before either, and hesitantly, they reach out to take the ribbon. Red, with a floral print, like much of the decor in the castle. Yet Limstella simply stares at it, stretched out between their hands.

“What shall I do with this?” they ask, eyes lifting back up toward Silas’ face.

[nohrianlance]

…What? Limstella must be joking, right? Silas stares at her, waiting for the punchline, a ‘just kidding!’, but neither happen. “Well… it’s a ribbon,” he says slowly. He’s not sure what else there is to say on the matter.

“Actually, can I see that for a second? I think it would be easier to demonstrate.” Silas plucks the ribbon out of Limstella’s hands and moves to stand behind her. “So first, you put the ribbon under your hair like so…” With one hand on one end, Silas runs the ribbon underneath her hair and brings it out on the other side. He slowly lifts the ribbon upwards, so that Limstella can feel that all her hair is gathered above the it. “From there. all you have to do is tie a knot. Not too tight, just enough to secure everything.” Silas ties the ribbon into a large, lopsided bow. “And voila! One ponytail.” He lets Limstella’s hair fall and takes a step back, observing his work. Not bad, considering Silas has never done this before, though that bow is certainly in a sorry state. Hopefully Limstella won’t see it.

[subservio]

Limstella does not return the ribbon so much as allow it to be plucked back out of their hands, and their eyes follow Silas as far as they can as he walks out of sight. Fear and suspicion are foreign to them, so they do not suspect him of foul play, but neither do they understand what it is he hopes to accomplish. Still, and without quite knowing why, they obey his unspoken command to stand still.

They have never given their hair much thought; it serves them little in practical matters. Their master had liked it, however, and the sensation of it being gathered into the ribbon stirs up faint memories of him. How he would sometimes stroke it when he was particularly proud of himself, or push it behind their ear to better admire their face.

Then it stops, and Silas stands before them again. Limstella reaches one hand up to gently touch his handiwork.

Humans are such strange creatures.

But Limstella recalls the phrase they use to close a gift exchange:

“… Thank you.”

[subservio]

Familiarity [Event: Limstella & Henry]

[subservio]

ravensnruin‌:

“That’s a pretty name.” With a pretty face to match, now that’s he gathered his wits enough to have a proper look. They’re beautiful - perhaps unnaturally, he suspects, for they’re eye-catching even to someone like him who’s never found himself attracted to any one particular look. It’s enough for him to catch his breath, just a moment, when he meets her eyes.

But the spell is broken by her question. His smile has not so much as trembled, even as he shakes his head. “A title? ‘Henry of the Crows’… That’s me. But no, just Henry is fine. Formalities are boring.” And too complicated. Can’t say he’s ever put much stock in ‘em.

Before silence can settle, the crow badgers him anew, and he swats it away from his face lightly. “Stop that, shoo, I know, I know,” he mumbles, and finally the crow takes wing a short distance, keeping the pair nonetheless under its watchful gaze. Smoothing his hair from the bird’s antics, he looks at Limstella and shrugs helplessly. “Are you concerned about the flowers?” He plucked one from the vase next to him, and with little ceremony presented it to them. “Worried that they’ll be gone from this world so soon?”

“As you wish… Henry.”

He is loud, and much more talkative than Lord Nergal, but the darkness that surrounds him is familiar nonetheless, and he speaks of Limstella in a similar way. Pretty. Perhaps he even possesses the same sophisticated eye, sensing in them what Lord Nergal had always admired and praised.

Only the crow as it takes wing pulls Limstella away from their careful studying, and when their eyes return to Henry, it is a cut flower that they find instead.

“No,” they answer dispassionately, looking past the flower at Henry once more. “But what purpose do these flowers serve like this?”

[subservio]

Stained [Event: Limstella & Eliwood]

[subservio]

devotedscarletknight‌:

Limstella’s answer hardly satisfied his question. They could not explain their own survival. Deep inside, a small fragment of impatience lay in his heart. He wanted to know, no, he needed to know the reason for their existence. And yet. Eliwood’s stomach turned with guilt. His eyes shifted to the floor, his brows drawn together in a mixture of unstable feelings as he resisted the urge to chew his lip. How could a morph possibly understand their survival when they were an atypical creation? One that may not truly fall under the umbrella of life itself. 

Eliwood was empathetic by nature. In his heart, he wanted to believe in the good of people. He longed to prove that those misguided were deserving of a second chance. But his heart was still hurting. He still couldn’t bring himself to enter his father’s chambers. Passing the door to his study alone was enough for the chill itself to grasp at his spine. The unnecessary violence and death…was furthered through Nergal’s morphs. They played a direct hand. 

He wanted to be furious with them or maybe perhaps apathetic. An ugly, wretched fragment buried deep within the sorrow and pain didn’t want to recognize Limstella as a person. Having such feelings made him conflicted, disgusted with himself, but even then there was doubt that perhaps that small feeling wasn’t wrong. Was Limstella even capable of feeling?

He lifted his gaze at the word that tore through his vulnerability. Hate. The question shocked him, but what shocked him more was that he didn’t have an immediate response. Did he hate them? They played a hand in stealing his father’s life away. The killing of countless for an unworthy cause. Threatened his life and those of his dearest friends. 

But did he hate them?

No.

“I…” Eliwood closed his eyes, wearing a pained expression, “…could never hate anyone.” Was his inability to hate a betrayal to his homeland? To his father? To Ninian?

Limstella had thought the question a straightforward one, satisfied by a yes or a no, but it sent a ripple through Eliwood’s expression, changing it in those few seconds it took him to find an answer. Limstella waited, watching carefully, like a snake looking for an opening through which to strike. Unlike the snake, however, they did not wish the young lord harm. Merely that he would display something that they could latch onto with any certainty. Humans were bewildering and unpredictable creatures though, and when Eliwood at last managed a complicated answer to so simple a question, Limstella was not prepared for it.

“… Never?” They repeated, eyes still locked to Eliwood’s face, meeting his whenever he allowed them to. It was not a question that drove for something deeper, for something that Limstella knew existed below the answer given, hidden out of Eliwood’s consciousness, because Limstella did not know such depth to exist. Instead, they questioned how it could be so at odds with what Lord Nergal had taught them. Hate was universal, all humans felt it. It was what fueled their wars and their violence. It was why they acted so irrationally.

“You have witnessed the deaths of many, yet you say that you do not hate? Is it not an emotion all humans possess?”

[subservio]

🍰 "I hate events like these... but I made cake regardless. Are you hungry?"

Forging Bonds Event [x] | accepting

While no less perplexed by the festival, Limstella had taken to observing the many different behaviors that appeared within the crowd at any given moment, from loud, wide-mouthed laughter, to sensual caresses, to aggressive arguments. Humans were as colorful as the streamers and pennants that decorated the castle, and for a moment, they began to understand what it was that had drawn Sonia to live amongst them.

A voice pulled their attention away from their rumination, however. A boy, wearing an expression that was notably sour compared to the rest of the people Limstella had been watching, approached them with a tray.

“I have no need for food,” Limstella answered objectively, though skeptical of the colorful, sweet-smelling thing on the boy’s plate. They were much more interested in his earlier comment.

“Why do you hate events like these?”

[subservio]

👕"I noticed your hair keeps blowing around in this wind. I thought this might help!" Silas offers Limstella a hair ribbon, red with small white flowers painted on one side. (hope you don't mind me sending one back!)

Forging Bonds Event [x] | accepting

The wind? Limstella had never cared about the wind, nor their hair before, but the offering draws their eyes. No one had ever given them anything before either, and hesitantly, they reach out to take the ribbon. Red, with a floral print, like much of the decor in the castle. Yet Limstella simply stares at it, stretched out between their hands.

“What shall I do with this?” they ask, eyes lifting back up toward Silas’ face.

[subservio]

Stained [Event: Limstella & Eliwood]

@devotedscarletknight continued from here [x]

The stark display of fear and confusion was met by Limstella’s unwavering impassivity, arm still extended in offering. They recognized the expression though - they had seen it on the young lord’s face many a time during the war. And on countless others in the moments before Limstella had pulled the life out of them. But they carried no weapon now, and even if they desired to, could not take Eliwood’s quintessence while he stood at full strength. The fear was irrational.

But then again, that was the nature of emotion.

Limstella returned the ring to their finger. A gift would not work here, it seemed.

“Do you wonder how I stand before you now?” A pause, during which Limstella did not break eye contact, searching for some sort of answer in the man’s eyes, in his face, but all they could find was pain. “I fear that I cannot provide an answer for you. Lord Nergal informed me that I would either be destroyed by your blade, or by his great magic, and yet I continue to exist. It is the first I have ever known my master to be wrong…”

Then they found it, something they recognized, albeit faint and distorted.

“Do you hate me, Eliwood?”

[subservio]

Familiarity [Event: Limstella & Henry]

@ravensnruin continued from here [x]

Loud and jarringly unexpected, the laugh sends an uncomfortable shock through Limstella and the beating of their own heart enters their awareness. They lift one hand to their chest and feel it on the other side, beating like those of animals they had caught before. Was this… fear? They glance toward the man and the first thing they notice is his teeth.

But he does not attack, and instead keeps prattling on between chuckles. Slowly, Limstella’s beating heart edges back out of consciousness, but they are no less perplexed. Having introduced himself as Henry, he asks for a name in return, and Limstella hesitates.

They had been labeled by Lord Nergal, but never had they been asked to give their name before. Never had they thought it their name before.

“I am called Limstella,” they finally answer, but it feels strange to have that amount of agency, to be in possession of themselves. Their hesitation creates another beat of silence as Limstella stares at Henry, deducing what they can from his presentation, and puzzling over the importance of a name.

They recall the vitriol Sonia had spat at them before, that puppets were not to address humans so casually, but it is Henry’s unpredictable behavior that ultimately drives Limstella to venture a question in exchange:

“Shall I address you by a title?” They did not want to be struck for trespassing on some social nicety.

[subservio]

In Sheep’s Clothing [Event: Limstella & Silas]

@nohrianlance continued from here [x]

The man’s demeanor changes suddenly and a pink tint floods his cheeks. He does not seem composed now, his words trip over each other until he finds some stability, and his voice does not come across as certain and confident as Limstella had expected. Still, they stare back at him as he offers what explanation he can, and meets his eyes directly when he looks toward them again. His face still possesses some color, Limstella notices, though not as bright as before.

Talk of celebration intensifies their feeling of otherness, of being an outsider, unaware of what it is that is being celebrated. Their gaze breaks away and sweeps out across the crowd of chattering people in the center of the room. Beauty, Limstella can understand. The quintessence in the castle is indeed intoxicating.

“Then it is a celebration of beauty?” The food does not seem wasteful in that light. Those with powerful quintessence need energy to fuel it.