#ashenclerc

[keen-kin]

A requiem for them both

A starter for @ashenclerc

As happy as this festival had been so far, Larcei had heard of one tradition that she felt compelled to participate in, even if doing so hurt a little. She bought some flowers from one of the stalls, small white flowers, that reminded her of home. Then, she headed to the graveyard. 

Of course, the one she wanted to mourn was not buried here. Nor was it likely that he was buried at all, having been one of countless victims in the slaughter that was called Belhalla. Father… she thought of the stories she’d been told of the man as she wandered between the gravestones, not knowing where to place the flowers. I hope, wherever you are now, you’re proud of me… she could feel the tears stating to form in her eyes as she walked, and was grateful that there were few people around. 

As she continued, she thought of her mother. Maybe I should have bought more flowers… no, no… she scoulded herself as soon as the thought came to her. Left alone with her thoughts, more were tears coming. She gently slapped both her cheeks at once to try and snap herself out of it. This was a time to remember the dead with fondness, wasn’t it? They wouldn’t want her to cry. 

She came across a purple haired boy, who she recognised as a fellow student. Not wanting to disturb, she simply gave him a small nod of acknowledgement, before stopping in place for a moment to take a look around her.

[ceaselessblade]

Novel Appetites

With so many people from different countries in one place, the kitchen is looking to expand their recipes with more dishes from Fódlan and beyond! The Head Chef is holding a cooking festival, inviting any muse with a flair for cooking to put forth their new dish for a taste test! Cooking for the tryouts or trying out the cooking, what do you bring to the table? [Grants Authority +1]

Ike’s been waiting for this day. The eyes see the words, but the picture that resolves in his head is another beast entirely. 

One that he would enjoy having on his platter-- alas, imaginary beasts have no flesh to speak of, and so he must hunt real ones on his own. 

Perhaps it’s due to single-minded determination, but time passes in a flash, and before Ike realizes he has himself carting a wheelbarrow (graciously borrowed) towards the kitchen doors, creaking under the weight of his carried game. A very good haul for a few hour’s work, and very lucky too-- he’d been nothing but delighted to come across what he had. The Looks he gets, however, have his stride waver just in their slightest. Was he not supposed to bring his own ingredients to the kitchen? It was merely Gallian etiquette to do so.  A few minutes later and sorely chastised, the wheelbarrow goes out and around to the back. He will have to butcher the goods at the market, which is apparently where that particular function is observed. How would he have known that the kitchens of the noble monastery did not have a space for butchering large beasts? 

It is well into the afternoon when he returns to the kitchens, ribs and meat piled up into neat racks atop the squeaking cart. Unfortunately, there is yet another unpleasant surprise. A glance at the wall beside his assigned station gives him a further shock, as the station he has been assigned to has an unfamiliar name written under the bar. He, presumably, has a cooking partner. One that he’s apparently shown up late for. Cursing under his breath, he rolls the cart into the kitchen, looking around for the other student. Hopefully, they haven’t started cooking quite yet... 

[ostiancleric]

loose lips

@ashenclerc

Serra had never been much of a drinker. There was never alcohol in the convent where she grew up and she supposed she just never developed a taste for it. Alas, desperate times called for desperate measures and the times were beginning to look a little desperate. How was she supposed to know that teaching required so much work or that students didn't automatically show respect to someone with the title of professor? The pressure was getting to her and she could not allow Matthew or Lord Hector or Lord Pent to see her falter.

Putting up the facade of qualified educator was taxing and Serra was grateful for this festival to provide a bit of a distraction. There were whispers about a secret tavern and they were certainly enough to pique her attention. The only flaw with that plan was the secret part. She'd have to find someone who knew about it. Scanning the crowd, she spotted a head of purple hair and her heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be him. It was the wrong shade of purple and he left the academy anyway. Stupid Erk and his stupid head!

"You!" the cleric waggled a finger at Yuri. It couldn't hurt to ask this purple guy about the tavern, right? "I shall happily accept your assistance!"

[cashandaxes]

too tired for titles

@ashenclerc continued from here

She can hear the hostility in the way he calls her milady and she can't help but wonder why. There's something beneath that roguish charm and Charlotte can't help that maybe the festival isn't the most interesting thing in front of her right now.

Despite his tone, Charlotte's coy smile doesn't falter. She absentmindedly twirls a strand of long, blonde hair and giggles at Yuri. "Oh, I'm Charlotte. Just Charlotte. I'm a knight here, I guess." Gesturing to the most recent victim of an onion/apple swap she asks, "is this like a normal thing here? You are from Fodlan, right?"

[halfjalar]

Playing By Ear. || Azelle & Yuri

@ashenclerc

Azelle finds himself with quite a predicament. 

The long awaited musical rendition of The Lament of Saint Macuil is to be played in less than a week, and the preparations are well underway. Up until now, everything was going smoothly. The students and Professors alike were excited and dedicated to the project, and it seemed as though nothing could go wrong.

Alas, something that could go wrong was found, and as someone wise once said - he does not remember who, he needs to look that up later - if something can go wrong, it will. And now he was chosen to try and find a solution to the sudden crisis. Why him of all Professors? It is not like he is the one most knowledgeable about and familiar with all the people around the Academy-- If they want to use this as an opportunity to help with that issue, perhaps he can appreciate the sentiment, but this is really not the best of times to experiment with things like that--

Oh wait, there is the guy he was supposed to find, he thinks as a head of lilac hair comes from behind the corner. Well, that could have been worse.

“Excuse me! Yuri?” He calls out as he approaches the young man with quick steps. "I’m sorry for taking up your time, but I was told to find you and ask you about something...”

He cannot help but feel a bit guilty about this, but he does not have much of a choice. “...You’ve heard about the Choir Festival event, yes? Well, they’re putting on a musical, aaand one of the performers suddenly fell ill and completely lost his voice”, he explains with a wince.

“...They said that you have a good singing voice and recommended you as a substitute”, he continues, his voice trailing off slightly as it becomes a touch more shy when the time comes to actually voice the request.

“...Would you help with this, please? They have no one else in mind to ask for this...”

[laflorenata]

» of lilies and lilac phlox

Continued from here. | @ashenclerc

     Rinea nods and resumes her business. Not that there was much to be had, she had no relation to whose tomb she lay flowers on and she had no prayers for them—religion was never her forte or belief. 

     “No one in particular,” she muses, eyes trained on the lilies she had set down, before turning back to him. Blue eyes scan over him, it was evident he must be a student, but the colors were more muted than others she’s seen. From the cape slung over his shoulder, she deducts he must be a leader of some sort, but for what, she does not know. Of all people, she should be the last to question someone’s presence. 

     “I’m afraid I am foreign to this land, but thought the gesture was appropriate enough to express my condolences.” A hand gestures to the garland. “The stones looked a little lonely without flowers, yes?” 

     While a majority of the tombs had some arrangement placed by them occasionally, she wondered just how many actually took the time to visit. Death was ordinarily a grim and sensitive topic to most. People had their reasons not to come on a regular basis, whether busy or otherwise, but it seemed that some souls could be easily forgotten. She notes older arrangements that look as if they haven’t been touched since they were placed, flowers wilting, soon to join their recipients.