#aliferousumbra

[amitieos]

how to train your dragon

For reasons unknown to anyone else, a mother wyvern has rejected her newborn wyvern and refuses to care for it. The task is now up to some brave volunteers to acquire a friend for life… or the scars. [Grants Flying +1]

Elincia carefully dismounts from her pegasus and approaches the abandoned wyvern nest. Gusts of wind threaten to blow her off course as she carefully navigates the rocky ledge of the mountain. Almost there, she shoots a triumphant smile towards Leanne, and Naesala, who the heron princess had managed to drag along into their escapades for the day. Shuffling across the outcrop, their target finally comes into sight.

It’s hard to believe, that this tiny, vulnerable little thing will one day be large enough to carry men into battle. Daring and proud, unwilling to back down. An instrument of war. For right now, it’s scales gleam in the sunlight, it’s wings too fragile and underdeveloped to lift even it’s petite body from the nest. Large, round eyes stare up at her in trepidation, and Elincia can physically feel the way the feeble creature tugs on her heartstrings like a harp. There was no turning back now. If the wyvern’s draconic mother would not care for it, then she’d just have to be enough, somehow.

Tentatively, Elincia makes her way closer still. Her footsteps are light, delicate so as to not startle the infant. Once within arm’s reach, she stretches out cupped hands, gently lifting it from the ground into her embrace.

It doesn’t stay there very long.

Fire gushes from the dragon’s nostrils, racing up her arms. It’s all she can do to pull her face away just in time, to avoid it too being engulfed in the raging flames. Instinctively, she let’s go of the baby wyvern, sending it arcing into the air as she tries to summon a spell to put out the fire, licking it’s way up her arms.

@allegreta or @aliferousumbra (someone please catch the baby dragon!)

[atypicalsenerio]

[ SCREAM ] All your friends are gone–dead, probably, when you remember their terrified screams as they thrashed against the firm grip of a bloody butcher with a rabbit mask. You also remember the way the cleaver glinted in the cold light. Your feet pound against the tile as you flee from your pursuer, the butcher’s twin with a chicken’s face and an even bigger knife. You trip, fall, get back up again. You trip, fall–why the hell are you falling so much? A “corpse” springs to life in front of your path, but a solid punch sends them reeling. You don’t look back. All you can do is scream, and run.

Soren had to admit, this probably looked like the most pathetic thing in the world to an outsider. The Thunder Mouse costume would come clean later, but for the moment, he bit his tongue as he tried to blindly fumble through the haunted corridor, mentally adding the list of mages who had put it together to his ever growing shitlist.

He stumbled through, Thunder Mouse silently battering against zombies, skeletons, and just slightly dulled rusted axes and the like. The culprit who'd shoved him in was none other than Naesala, and the only thing holding back Soren's verbal wrath was the prayer that Naesala hadn't already caught on to his identity inside the Thunder Mouse outfit.

Once he was free, he waved the pathetic little paws at one of the haunted corridor volunteers, making his displeasure unclear.

[allegreta]

[ COSTUME ] Forgot your demon costume? Vendors have set up stalls in town offering all sorts of accessories to get customers in the Midsommar spirit. Pointed wax teeth are subtle but expensive, but you don’t need a heavy purse to rent out a glittering cape or a fancy hat. With the damage fines this high, you better be careful not to get them dirty!

❝You remember the old days, don't you, Leanne?❞ He chirped, depths of azure flickering from stall to stall, vendor to vendor, mapping out the accessories he could even think of purchasing for himself. A nice work of leather here, a faux sort there. ❝Full of festive cheer in Serenes?❞

Never in Kilvas, for the land was as dry in festive spirit as the driest desert.

❝But, please, not a pirate. There's no point in dressing up if we're just going to be real with ourselves. ❞

"Of course!" Leanne claps her hands together, fluttering in excitement. How lovely it is, to be able to share this with her dear childhood friend! "Is it not grand, that laguz and beorc put on such similar festivities?"

The wonder in Naesala's eyes when they were children is something she's longed to see again, and while it still hasn't quite returned, the fact that he's enjoying himself is more than enough for now.

"Hmmmm..." Leanne's face screws in concentration as she surveys the stalls. The pirate outfit would look nice on Naesala, but sadly he's already declined it. Oh, but perhaps! "I could be the pirate! And you could, um..."

"Aha!" Leanne grabs a costume composed of a white dress, faux wings, and...some kind of disc? It looks close enough to what she regularly wears. "We can be each other!"

[purrlay]

[ JELLYBEAN ] One particular stall catches your eye: piles of little bean-shaped gummies shine in the lantern’s light, all too colorful to ignore. Clover honey, strawberry, peaches… With so many choices, you can’t help but take your time looking over the vendor’s selection. Strangely, he nods and gives you a knowing look. “Ah, I see. We have the same… interests, do we?” From below the table, the vendor pulls out a heavy wooden box, opening it to reveal an array of jellybeans. While they are as colorful and delectable as the ones on the table, their labels are more than a little troubling. Sweaty socks? Essence of skunk? “Excellent for tricks… though you didn’t get these from me.”

Oh, come on. Yeah, it generally lifts Ranulf's spirits to see fellow laguz (or whatever they call themselves in other continents), but Naesala is anything but general. Why is he here? Ambassador for the unified bird clans? Oy gods, that'd be both a risky decision and he wouldn't blame Tibarn for getting the raven out of his feathers that way.

"Naesala. Interesting to see you here." Ranulf bows, forcing a smile. He trusts the raven king about as far as he could throw him--less, even--but hey, it's a new country, and festivities abound. Sure he's probably stealing from the church, but that isn't Ranulf's problem. "Enjoying yourself?"

Wait. Wait. A devious thought crosses Ranulf's mind--a little fun wouldn't constitute a diplomatic incident, yes?

"Beorc are ever so clever in their pursuit of culinary arts. Why, just earlier today, I met a man who crystalizes sugar into a form known as 'jellybeans'!" Ranulf produces a pouch filled with the colorful orbs. Each looks as scrumptious as the last; Naesala doesn't need to know some of them aren't. He pops a safe one into his mouth--oh, how blessed beast laguz are to have such a sense of smell. "Have a couple. My treat."

[ordelion]

Daylight Robbery - Lysi + Naesala (Spoilers Below)

The Ordelians were no wealthy robber baron. Her family, despite being one of the wealthiest in the Alliance for its size just a scant few decades before, was now modest in its fortunes. Due to years of culled generations and embezzled profits, their debts were eye-popping levels of high. They were perhaps even, one would say, impoverished, as far as nobles went. And the little they did have was oft spent for benefiting, as much as possible, the conditions of their subjects, and investing in their future yields through new infrastructure projects rather than exploiting them harsher with higher taxes. But that didn’t mean her family was peasant-type poor. Because of her mother’s connections with the merchants of the Alliance, they never lacked for having the best, most metropolitan supplies in their ancestral home- choice foodstuffs from Almyra, incredible silks of great value from the Kingdom, valuable doctors and medicines from the Empire, and everything in between. Much of that Lysithea carried with her, including a host of pricey potion ingredients. She was not really in need. She stole from the kitchen out of a sweet tooth- and as much as she could, she left behind some cash to cover the costs. So when a stranger passed her by in her late-night kitchen raids, she was incredibly shook up. It was late, very late, and not a time she really had thought would be popular for fellow thieves. After all, if it was food they wanted, why not come by day? Less patrols, less suspicion, and most of the chefs kept the door unlocked during non-night break hours. In fact, she betted on that she was solo in her raids. She slammed herself against the wall, breathing deeply. A trail of crumbs led directly to her hiding spot. Was she spotted? Was she going to be turned over to the guards? Was it a guard, hiding in incognito to sniff her out? Was it just a stranger who forgot the curfew had been imposed? She scarfed down a cookie to calm her nerves. She could only wait to figure out what exactly the other stranger was trying to do.  @aliferousumbra