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@swordminded
# SWORDMINDED — closed & affiliated rp blog for marisa of sacred stones ; black eagles faculty at the officers academy . adored by elysia ✧.*
this portrayal of marisa is taken from ~1 year postgame and assumes her paired ending with joshua.
that's what the cards do, eirika
recovery / authority +1
It isn't as if Eirika hadn't played a card game before, but most were...much simpler. These cards were filled with walls of text, some of words terms for the specific game they would be playing. But she had heard of the rave reviews going around the monastery, and soon she learned the basics in order to play with her friends.
"I'm sure-- why? Do you not want to?" While she and Marisa had never been extremely close, Eirika still saw her as a trusted ally-- someone she wished to call a friend. "I have no intention of forcing you to play games you don't want to play." 'I'm no child,' she wants to say, but she holds her tongue.
Eirika nods, placing down a card on the mat in front of them. "I play Seth-- I gain 2 extra defense!" She grins, gesturing for her to go next. "Your turn, Marisa."
"I want to."
Which is only kind of true. She doesn't want to do much of anything. Blame it on her upbringing or her line of work or just genetics; Marisa boasts a rather impressive inclination to follow instructions. If Eirika wants to, and Eirika wants her to, then she will. Not like she has anywhere much better to be.
What she doesn't say, of course, is that she would prefer a game with less text and considerably more sword, but it really isn't that serious.
"Uh..." She thumbs through her cards, frowns, thumbs some more, and then sets one down rather unceremoniously between them. "I play... this."
It's about the shortest block of text she has seen, and all she had bothered to pick out from it was 'deals 2 additional damage to target.' "That's how you do it, right?"
what's a rat to do
showcase / sword +1
"Y-Yes!! That's right!!! At least-- that is what the students have been telling me when they rush into my office!" Ratatoskr looks so... tired? seems she herself had been up all night in fear that she would be next in this.... rat crime.
"I can only do so much... I at least helped those who were missing sleep... i think they may still be sleeping.." She had felt bad for them! So she offered those who wanted a safe place to sleep to stay in the infirmary "It was hard to find someone to help so... I'm very very grateful!" she meant it.
"oh... hehee..." An awkward smile as she turns over to her helper "Im... just going off what the students told me.. haha..." she really hopes this wont become a big waist of time.
Another, slower sideways glance, but Marisa doesn't say anything. It's certainly not her job to ask questions about students being put to sleep by peculiar means, so she won't. It's probably fine.
She turns down a corner, following the minimal instructions they had to work with. Gaze diligently to the floor boards, it takes hardly another minute of walking to spot their target: a rather normal looking hole, for likely rather normal rats.
"We're not going to fit though that," comes her observation, astute as ever. She toes the gnawed edges with her boot, frowning. Maybe if she kicks it in they'll make some headway, but she isn't really interested in being liable for damages. "You're sure this is the place?"
it's boar season
recovery / sword +1
If she wanted him to run, so he would. Not out of any particular fear - she seemed a competent swordswoman, and the academy had hired her as an instructor, so Dimitri felt comfortable enough that no true and dire harm would come to him - but rather at the other end of the spectrum: running through forests under harsh conditions was something that he could have done asleep.
He could not say, necessarily, that it was a point of pride, but more a matter of fact; he had survived worse than this, and if they wanted to break his composure, then they might need to exercise him with something rougher than a nice morning jog.
So, he ran. The tilt of his mouth was not quite a smirk, but neither could he claim that it was entirely in earnest, either.
One minute, huh? Well, it was easier to move without the set of armor, regardless of the piecemeal of his uniform, and Dimitri took off into the mist at a hearty pace, vaulting himself easily over whatever fallen logs or cracks in the earth might have stood in his way.
He did not turn back, as such, but he did begin to veer his course, just so.
He would never presume to make the hunter hunted - it was he attending this seminar, not the other way around - but…
Part of him, he supposed, wanted to see the mettle of this young woman, and see the steel of her own composure for himself.
Marisa counts down loudly, watching the boy's back disappear into the foliage. Someone else in her shoes might have had the inclination to be impressed, or even concerned with the speed at which he bounds away. She isn't. If anything, it means that this morning might be a fraction more interesting than initially anticipated.
On one, she assumes the speed for which she has been named.
To chase him is easy, she is built for the deft speed of sword fighting and has dedicated a lifetime to honing it. Were the matter so simple, she doesn't doubt that this may be over and done with before lunch.
She realizes in moments that she had underestimated him, watching beneath her feet as the trail of crushed leaves and snapped twigs disappears over a rather large stump and does not reappear.
Marisa may be fast, but she's no hunter. As she skirts around it, eyes darting in every cardinal direction as though waiting for an arrow to appear before one, her body tenses.
Crack- Her head snaps west and she wastes no time bolting after the sound. Metal sings as her blade is drawn in preparation for their training to begin in earnest. She rounds another corner, heartbeat loud in her ears, and watches as a young deer bounds away from a fallen branch.
Shit.
what's a rat to do
showcase / sword +1
She doesn't want to be doing this, but she has to.
So she is.
Marisa skirts a glance at her companion, looking away just as quickly. Were she a more suspicious woman, she might think that this is all some elaborate joke. Rats stealing instruments, playing them, and that somehow having to do with a bunch of disappearances?
And she's investigating them with... a squirrel?
But, again, it's a job. And it is her job. So it is what it is.
"You, uh, seen them take someone?" Hard to imagine a rat kidnapping somebody, but it's also hard to imagine one playing a tuba. So it's probably just a her thing, since evidently one of those was possible. "Or is it more of a guess?"
@ourdivinehands
hey there demons it's me
ya boi | recovery / ghosthunting
During the journey towards the forest, Ewan had been walking a few steps behind the girl, the reason being a combination of their difference in leg lengths (geez why are his so tiny?!) as well as a slight apprehension in his heart. He never liked occult stuff, and he’s seen enough ghosts and monsters to last a lifetime during the war of stones.. oh why did he agree to this assignment??
It was just an excuse to hang out with Marisa again, a woman he’s come to admire like a second big sister. She wasn’t the most.. talkative, but he still appreciated her company. He just kind of signed up without reading what the mission exactly was! Fate must’ve been cruel for them to be put on a ghost hunting mission, of all things…
“Huh?! Are you sure we shouldn’t stick together? You never know, if there’s like. A bear or something lurking around…” or ghosts, he thought but never vocalized. A bear would’ve been easy to handle, one spell and they’re running for the hills. But this… despite his (somewhat lame) attempt at not showing any fear, it was preeeetty obvious he was nervous.
She looks at him blankly, like she hadn't really considered that at all.
"We'll be fine." Though she's not sure she wants to know what Tethys would have to say if Marisa let her little brother become some animal's evening snack. And she would like to avoid being at the other's mercy ever if at all possible.
Marisa sighs.
"Come on, then."
She doesn't wait for his answer, striding towards the tree line without so much as making sure that he's following. He's old enough to fend for himself, anyway. What was he now? Older than ten, definitely, and she's pretty sure most people have killed at least a coyote by that age.
The trees sway with a rush of cold wind and Marisa swats a stray leaf from her hair. "See? No bears."
First Date Idea: I Punch a Rock in Front of You
Gauntlets +1 | Recovery
Now, whoever came up with the idea of punching some rocks as a competition is a real visionary.
It felt like a small festival. Several boulders ranging in size were set up all across the courtyard. Participants, burly and meek, were already giving these stones the good ol’ one-two. A mixture of dust and BO overwhelmed the nostrils, like a pot roast if all the ingredients were moldy and rotten.
But what shined through even more was the determination to absolutely curb whatever rock was sitting in front of them.
He wouldn’t say this was his first idea when it came to catching up with his long time partner, but it’d make do. Marisa was oddly inspired to punch rocks, and Joshua wasn’t one to turn down The Crimson Flash’s interests.
“So… you… punch rocks often?” Despite the fact that Marisa had been his sword for so long, he figured this kind of thing would’ve come up. Perhaps there’s a reason she doesn’t bring it up. It’s best not to think too much though, as he grabs a pair of steel gauntlets.
Straps tighten, leather already chafes against his bare forearms. “Or do you just like watching these guys break their knuckles on some slab of bedrock?” A gentle yet firm jab to her elbow before walking over to a vacant space, sizing up the rock before him. Was he really gonna do this?
A punch that reverberates through Joshua’s core, plated knuckle meeting stone with no purpose aside from pure, unadulterated, carnal desire to break this rock.
@swordminded
"Neither."
Marisa watches, wholly unimpressed, as her liege straps himself up for what may just be the stupidest thing she has ever heard of. He knocks an elbow against her, which earns nothing more than a huff from her.
And then he does it, a man of his word as always. She sighs.
"I wasn't the one who suggested this," she reminds with a pointed look before reaching for a pair of gauntlets for herself. To the blade there was a certain elegance, a required balance and speed that crafted an art of its violence.
To the fist there is brute strength, and Marisa has never exactly prided herself on such a trait. But if Joshua wished to make a challenge of it, who was she to argue with her prince? Him and all his thousand stupid whims.
Sometimes she's not so sure why she agreed to do this for the rest of her life.
Fingers flex, shoddy iron and old leather creaking as she inspects them. If she's going to break something, they certainly won't help. Whether that something is a rock or a bone. She raises her right hand.
Nothing happens. As she shakes out her fist, grimacing, the rock stares back unscathed.
"This is stupid, Joshua."
★ ┆ @laslow asked:
Look, it's not his fault the academy hires such beautiful ladies! Merely a bonus of the job. And the cherry on top is finding out said beautiful lady also teaches the esteemed art of swordplay. Common ground plus exceeding beauty is a recipe for a date! (If he continues such positive thinking, it's bound to happen eventually, right?) Laslow runs a hand through his hair, artfully tousling the pink strands, then strolls up to the newest member in their ranks with a wide grin. "Pardon me. Are you a cutlass? Because I think you're quite the cute lass." He winks for added effect as he leans a shoulder oh-so-casually against the nearest wall.
Marisa blinks at him as though, were she to stare long enough, she might decipher what nonsense just came out of the man's mouth. A cutlass? Her? Yeah, basically. Everything else he said may as well have been another language.
"Uh."
She squints at him a moment longer, brows pinched together. Maybe he didn't speak this language very well, that has to be it. She blinks, then points rather unceremoniously at the racks of blades that line the training grounds.
"Swords are over there." Marisa answers, because what else could he have been asking, and then brushes past him on her way out.
Weird.
༄ a rhythm in all.
though it's hardly a foreign sight, tethys remains captivated by the dance of steel unfolding before her. she leans against a pillar and watches as a pair of gleaming swords slice through the air, their edges catching the morning light in a mesmerizing display. each movement is deliberate, and every swing remains a testament to marisa's blend of power and finesse.
in the silence, tethys picks up on the swordswoman's measured breaths, noting how they seem to rhythmically match the cadence of her blade work.
impressive as always.
she waits until marisa comes to a halt. then, with a faint smile, the dancer peels herself away from the pillar and draws close.
"imagine that! the crimson flash finally sets down her swords," tethys says, tossing her braid over her shoulder. she winks. "now that you're finished for the day, why don't you walk with me? there's something i'd like to discuss."
with ༄ @swordminded
Her blade hasn't been back on its rack for even a moment.
Marisa casts a glance over her shoulder, hand still hovering over a hilt, eternally ready to draw. Crimson meets her gaze instead, and familiarity settles over her shoulders like the dancer's own silks. As relaxed as she has perhaps ever appeared, her hand falls away from the sword.
"Tethys," she greets, pivoting to face her then. The other leaves no room for question of when she got here or why, which Marisa is fine with. In fact, she hadn't really been looking forward to asking.
There's a tradeoff, however. A suspicious brow quirks, but she nods anyway. Discussions with Tethys were dangerous things-- often spent red-faced and impossible to escape-- but Marisa has yet to turn down a single one.
She takes a step to follow the other's lead, arms folded across her chest. "Go on."
swordmaster on swordmaster crime
recovery / any +1 / 250 wc challenge
When Ayra volunteered to teach these would-be soldiers to fight, she did not expect to find anyone worth facing. She's glad things turned out like this, though. It's been some time since she's had a challenge.
The two swordfighters take the measure of one another, pacing slowly. The audience crowds around them, but despite this and the fact that Ayra's weapon — a sickle — is meant to show them the importance of good technique, she forgets all about them. Nothing matters but the opponent in front of her. "I would be insulted if you held back."
The other woman strikes at her in a flash, with admittedly impressive speed for (she assumes) someone who lacks Holy Blood. Oh, this is going to be a challenge indeed, and she would not want it any other way. The cut across her leg bleeds, and she smiles for the first time since coming here.
Rather than close the distance as she would usually have, the princess uses her opponent's retreat to her advantage and stays far from her instead. A weapon as unconventional as this adds to the challenge, so she ought to wield it the way it's intended.
Ayra 8/10 HP hits Marisa 10/10 HP with Throwing Sickle at range! Bonus hit does not proc! [Rolls: 9 and 3, -1 HP, Marisa 9/10 HP]
The sickle swings in a wide yet precise arc, slashing at her opponent. Afterwards she sends it flying for a second hit, though it meets only empty air. She catches its handle with ease when it flies back to her, keen eyes trained on her foe for her next move.
The curve of her opponent's blade bites hungrily, carving easily through the skin of her arm and leaving stinging flesh in its wake. Crimson beads on her bicep, and with a half-gloved hand she smears it before it can think to drip. Her sword arm flexes to test where it has torn, just as the sickle soars past her, back towards its wielder.
A unique weapon for a fight like this, she thinks. It is only for a matter of seconds that it leaves the other woman unarmed, but seconds are all that Marisa needs.
Her weight settles itself again, muscle shifting as a lifetime of memory has taught it to. Fingers flex, wearing themselves into the grip on her sword, and she exhales
Marisa [9/10HP] hits Ayra [8/10HP] with Killing edge! [Roll: 10; -1HP; Ayra 7/10HP]
The next time she inhales she stands behind her opponent, flicking blood from her sword with a flourish. This is just a demonstration, she reminds herself, but it's impossible not to see how the other sizes her up as though this were a very real challenge. Marisa can't complain; it is exactly how she prefers her sparring matches. What is there to learn from a fight when it is for anything less than your life?
swordmaster on swordmaster crime
recovery / any +1 / 250 wc challenge
Around them has gathered a crowd of 30 odd soldiers, all craning to look around and over one another. It's perhaps the one scenario in which Marisa couldn't care less that people are watching her-- she's doing what she was made to.
The woman that opposes her looks no less out of place with a blade in hand than Marisa feels. This is meant to be a lesson for those around them, but it will be one for her too the way that every battle is. A formidable opponent only serves to make the experience more interesting.
They pace a slow circle across from one another. She can make only the simplest of observations-- which hand her opponent may favor, what foot she leads with-- but they are enough. Marisa cocks her head. "Don't expect me to go easy on you."
And then she becomes her namesake, darting forward in a blur of incarnadine and silver.
Marisa [10/10HP] critically hits Ayra [10/10HP] with Killing Edge! [Roll: 17; -2HP; Ayra 8/10]
Momentum carries her strike along the entirety of her blade's edge and she allows herself to follow it, ducking past the other's reach. Sand kicks up in her wake, still settling as she skids to a halt. Her weight shifts, settling back to center with ease. A few stray cheers have risen from their audience, and Marisa diligently pretends not to hear.
@astrasword
hey there demons it's me
ya boi | recovery / ghosthunting
"Just looks like a statue to me."
An ugly one, but one nonetheless. Marisa crosses her arms as she peers up at it, though no matter how hard she squints it gets no easier to make out what it's supposed to be. An animal, maybe-- there look to be feathers chiseled in random places-- but the silhouette would speak to something more human.
But she doesn't really care, so she turns her back to it with disinterest.
It'll be an easy night. Ghost stories rarely have merit to them any more than some stray cat, and even then Marisa has faced monsters enough not to be too worried about the potential of one. This is a killing job the same as any other, just with a whole lot of extra nonsense shoveled on top of it.
"Sun's about to set," she casts a glace at Ewan. It would be hard to have called him her first choice for something like this, but it'll be fine. At least there will be someone to name whatever stray animal they find that's been tormenting these people.
"I'm going to check the woods. You stay here. I won't be long."
@optimismxmagicism
it's boar season
recovery / sword +1
It hadn't exactly been her first thought that getting hired as an instructor would mean chasing students though the woods an hour before dawn.
Not that she's complaining. There are far worse things, anyway.
One hand on her sword and the other holding a somewhat tattered piece of paper, Marisa stands at the start of the tree line. Seminar had suggested that there would be more than one boy in attendance, and watery sunlight begins to creep over the horizon her hope that someone else might show wanes to none.
Well. She clears her throat, lifts her paper, and squints for a moment. "Uh. Good morning, this is a training meant t-" Her voice is mechanical and unnatural as she reads, and perhaps it would've been bearable with a crowd, but... "Oh, whatever."
The paper crumples in her hand, is shoved rather unceremoniously into a pocket, and Marisa unsheathes her sword.
"You get a one minute head start." She taps the hilt of her blade. "Start running."
@blaiddllodi
that's what the cards do, eirika
recovery / authority +1
Marisa frowns at her hand. These cards are nearly impossible to read between the size of the text and the sheer amount of it, and she's already bored of half of their purposes.
Already she regrets agreeing to this.
"Princess..." She doesn't look up at Eirika as she speaks, still squinting to make out faded words against their too-bright backgrounds. "You're sure this is the game you want to play?"
It had been wishful thinking to assume that the other's invitation would have implied a proper sparring match, which Marisa only realizes now that she cannot back out. Well, she could, but she's not in the habit of disrespecting nobility.
Unfortunately.
She thumbs past another card, disinterested. The worst part of all these words is that none of them matter. 'Support' this and 'strategy' that... She moves to the next.
"Ladies first, then."
@lunatenais
★ ┆ @optimismxmagicism asked:
“MARISA?!” Ewan shouted with surprise and excitement as they crossed paths. Practically flinging himself to her side, he gave her a look over to make sure he didn’t mistake her to someone else. And nope, no mistakes made! That was definitely the crimson flash he knew so well. “Oh my gosh, you should’ve mentioned you were coming! How are you? How’s sis and the Chief? Are you here to study too? They have some really strong sword fighters you’ll fit right in!” He rambled cheerfully, just really excited to have the girl be here. It’s always nice to have a familiar friend around, after all! ..did Marisa think of him like a friend? …maybe? He’d like to think so at least. “Anyway, uh, I’m super glad to see you!”
He's as fire-bright as she remembers, which is relieving and strenuous in equal measure. Marisa peers down at him, brows furrowed as she tries to keep up with the sheer speed at which he speaks.
"One question at a time." She gives him what is supposed to be a pat on the shoulder, but it's a little too brisk and a bit too hard in the same way that everything else she does is. Has he gotten taller since the last time she saw him?
"They're fine," it's the only question really worth answering, the only one not about her. She's the same as ever, which is a surprise to no one and certainly will not be to Ewan. "Good to see you, too."
hiiii midmonth midboel wanted plots for miss thing... if u even care
I like to make theme teams for Tap Battle. This time I hired a bunch of mercenaries for the job. Dancing is not really their strong suit
