#ask | snowswept

[muscle-blues]

[PATCH] - Not far from the loud crowd is a dimly lit nook very few bother to look. It’s a place reserved for those who bit off more than they could chew. A spot or those who wants to hear awful advice from veteran fighters. Or, if you’re feeling extra generous, they could always use a few more helping hand here, too.

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From the cheers of the crowd just a bit away from her, Hyacine concluded another round had ended. Maybe a victory worth talking abou—is that lady okay? She must’ve partaken in one of the fights, with those bruises, Hyacine certainly hoped it was just a regulated fight. 

“This way, Miss! I can help you next, don’t worry.”

Her smile gave nothing away in terms of concern, no creases of worry on it. To the other, it might look as if her injuries were the norm or maybe just easy to fix up. 

“Gonna guess those are from a fight? Who did you go up against, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She hummed softly as she got to work, taking out her equipment and assessing each injury. It shouldn’t be… too hard to heal up. Maybe whoever she was up against was really competitive? The weapon she held… ah, bad matchup maybe?

“Oh, you’re an archer! I haven’t seen very many of them so far, is the space in the ring harder to work with?”

   Wincing in pain from the round of combat prior, Yelan gave an awkward smile to the young lady who played the role of nurse today. She mouthed a ‘thank you’, as the nurse guided her to a seat. This wasn’t the first time Yelan had been in the doctor’s seat – in fact, this was one of far too many. However, she could admit that this was a bit embarrassing, given her public loss just moments ago. 

   “Ngh, ow… Well… to answer your question, I fought a samu- oh-! Ow, ow! Sorry, continue with your work…ow… don’t m-mind me.” As the nurse began to tend to Yelan’s wounds, the pain surged through her body with even the gentlest of touches. She tried to keep her reactions minimal, behaving normally in front of someone she had just met, but there was still a steady flush that formed across Yelan’s face as her gaze remained transfixed to the ground. This could (and would, to be honest) be chalked up to embarrassment. “I fought… a samurai. He’s someone I know, though, which could be more or less embarrassing depending on how you look at it…”

   The nurse’s voice perked up at mention of Yelan’s chosen weapon. A chuckle escaped her lips, ‘she might think this was a bad matchup for me… it might’ve been.’ She nodded in affirmation, “I am an archer, yeah. I’m pretty confident with my bow, though, and I know how to throw a punch if I need to.” All of these were true statements, of course. But… Yelan scanned the nurse, trying to ascertain her status as a Vision-bearer or not. There were no open signs of a Vision – either she was Visionless herself, or had been one of the many from other worlds where Visions do not exist. She wouldn’t assume either. “My abilities also… lend themselves to working well in close quarters. It wasn’t the worst matchup ever… he was kind of just better than me?”

   Weird to admit that, for Yelan’s hubris, but she still knew when to admit defeat. Besides, now she got to speak with an adorably approachable nurse. Truly, nothing one could complain about. “Are you a volunteer, by the way? You look out of place for all of… this.”

[eternalthrone]

[ stars ]

Herta finds Amphoreus's little demigod of Law gazing silently at yet another artificial sky. It really makes one wonder----do the painted constellations remind her of home, all the beautiful falsehoods that built up the legends of the Eternal Land? Or is the chessmaster merely plotting her next conquest?

"Plotting your next conquest, Imperator?" the puppet greets, plopping down next to Cerydra on the bench. Certainly, nobody could ever accuse Herta of being afraid to ask questions. "Your last gambit really paid off, by the way. I'm almost impressed by how little faith you had in Screwy and me."

It's true, even if the genius's tone is as insouciant as ever. Sure, had Cerydra cut a different deal, she could have massively tipped the scales in their favor---but the likes of Herta and Screwllum were never really going to lose against that crusty old intellitron anyway. It's a remarkably sensible risk assessment to instead stop crazy people from trying crazy things. Nous knows they've all got a couple screws loose, this lot of Geniuses.

But that's all history, now. Herta smiles, closing her eyes. "Maybe you are ready for the big leagues, hm?"

   The false stars created by the Belobogian people had been a reminder of that simulation that Cerydra only known to be home. Alongside that, they reminded her of that promise, forged in iron will, that she so boldly made to herself. Cerydra will conquer the stars, the name of the Eternal Land will be paved across the galaxy, even if she must through shimmering, golden blood-soaked hands.

   A familiar voice tears the Imperator away from such thoughts of nostalgia and conquest. “Oh, it’s you, scholar.” It felt as though the Imperator hadn’t seen much of Herta nor that other Antikytheran, since their successful gambit against Lygus. Cerydra crosses her arms, and meets Herta’s gaze, “well, I must say in turn that I’m surprised to see that you and… Screwllum, was it? Were able to follow through.” 

   After all, even if the Queen was no longer in play, so long as the King has not been checked, and there too is a pawn present, the game is not finished. Certain strategies find their success through asinine gambles, and Cerydra was proud to witness Amphoreus’ great victory regardless of that. “Pfft, if I hadn’t believed myself to be ready for the ‘big leagues’, as you rather crudely put it, then I wouldn’t be here to begin with. Simple as.” Cerydra faces away, choosing to look back up to the Underworld’s false sky. 

   “Amphoreus’ name will be known across the galaxy. Whether it’s through that tale that Dux Draconum, Dux Temporum and the Deliverer choose to spread through the stars, or through my own hand even if drenched in mine blood, Amphoreus will be known to all.” Her words were confident, indicative of the strength of will that Cerydra had never once lost, even as a mere entity found through one’s story. Her Law burns bright, and shimmers with each syllable uttered. Cerydra glances back to Herta for a moment, and scoffs at her expression, before facing the stars once more. “Now, do you intend to just continue smiling, or will you open your eyes and enjoy these stars with me instead, Herta? They’re rather beautiful, aren’t they?”

[eternalthrone]

[ GUARD ]

The cold only grows with the night, nipping at any exposed skin. The chilling wind pairs with the frost, battering at the open flame between the two guards on duty. She was astonished at how bold the Silvermane guards were to put such an elderly lady on duty. Truly no tact, but she caved after seeing other elderly folk struggling to wade in the deep snow.

The hissing wind sings with the cackling of the fire, its warmth only there to remind you of what it means to be cold. Citlali glances at the other guard on duty, inspecting her condition. Beside the granny, a short girl with striking silver hair sits, her expression hard to read.

They put me on duty with such a young girl huh. Her expression is quite hard to read though. Could she be tired? I know its best to have two people on duty but it should be fine if no one finds out...

Citlali summons Citlalin, sending it beside the girl. "Here, you look tired. Growing girls like you need a full night of rest. Don't worry about guarding either, leave it to granny here. I'm quite used to staying up all night."

   The Imperator took on the mantle of guardian on behalf of the Silvermane Guards. Of course, her capabilities in combat were not comparable to her peers in the Flame-Chase Journey, Cerydra was confident that she could still hold her own in a fight. She could at least lead the charge, if absolutely necessary.

   The woman assigned as a guard alongside the Imperator was a quiet sort, meek almost. She didn’t seem like someone who saw her fair share of combat, and her pale skin seemed more befitting of one who spent far more time in the comfort of the indoors, as opposed to being exposed to the elements of war. ‘They’d place just anyone on guard duty, huh? Pathetic.’ 

   As Cerydra sat, focused, tapping her staff in her hand, the other guard on duty speaks up. She sounded so delicate, like a flower bristling in the wind. Dux Lucens carried a similar floaty essence, yet the Imperator was aware that even she, as the Twilight Courtyard’s best, had seen the flames of war at its most gruesome. This delicate flower had seemed like anything but.

   So it made the comment of the Imperator’s height and youthful appearance feel just a smidge more charged, than it would have had it come from anyone else. 

   “Excuse me,” the Imperator waves off the summoned pillow. It was unnecessary, she would be fine without it. “It is quite rude to make such bold assumptions of my character based on appearance alone.” Such a hypocritical statement leaves the Imperator’s lips. “I am fine, and you do not appear that much older than I for that matter either, regardless of your speech. I’ll take this as a first-time error; don’t make such assumptions about me again.” 

   There wasn’t anger in her voice, for she masked that and her annoyance well. But it didn’t hurt to be a bit assertive, either. After all, she wouldn’t have been that Tyrant ever so colorfully recorded throughout Amphoreus’ history, had she not been as assertive as she truly was. Sarcastically, she finally adds, “I have my many Dux to coddle me, if absolutely necessary. Though I assure you, it is not.”

[eternalthrone]

[STEW]

Huh, so this was what they called perpetual stew. Venti peered curiously into the bubbling pot; it did smell quite nice for something that had so many random ingredients. Was there some sort of special ingredient that made it always taste good, or did it do that all on its own? 

He went to pour himself a bowl, but remembered that he was supposed to add something in the stew first. With the consideration that maybe pouring an entire bottle of Dandelion Wine into the pot was a bad idea, he instead drew out an apple. He was saving it to snack on later, but…

Borrowing a knife from the makeshift kitchen nearby, he sliced it into pieces that maybe could have been neater - but it was fine, it was all going in the stew anyway! - and then returned to the pot, dropping them in and giving the stew a quick stir. A strong scent of apples briefly wafted from the pot before assimilating into the smell of the stew’s many other ingredients. Hmm… that should do it! 

He spooned a portion of the stew into a bowl and then made to go back to the campsite to enjoy it by the fire when he almost bumped into someone - a person even shorter than he. The stew sloshed around in the bowl, spilling a couple of drops onto his hands.

“Oh, hello! Sorry about that, ehe,” Venti said, making sure he hadn’t spilled any stew onto the other person - thankfully, it didn’t look like he had. “Were you also going to get some stew? What sort of ingredient are you putting in?”

The Imperator stares at the pot of seemingly never-ending stew. According to the locals of Belobog, it was tradition to add new ingredients into the stew. Whether those new ingredients were good or not, the Imperator was woefully unsure. She wasn’t an expert chef by any means- after all why cook when others can do it for you- however, she understood that this was a potential mistake on the Belobogians’ ends.

It didn’t make the idea of trying the stew itself any less attractive, though. Curiosity killed the cat, or however the saying went. 

As Cerydra takes careful steps towards the brew, she almost finds herself in collision with another. Thankfully, she is swift, and merely knicks the individual, rather than a headfirst collision. Despite that, her head snaps, ready to scold, but she quickly calms herself down. ‘Not every action taken against you is a slight. This is fine.’ She fixes her dress, and also checks to see if any of the stranger’s stew splashed onto her. ‘And nothing spilled onto me anyhow.’

Looking back to the green stranger as he begins speaking, Cerydra holds out a hand. “No need for apologies. None of your stew got on me, so this is fine.” Besides, she wasn’t so fickle a ruler to threaten someone even if it had gotten on her. She just would’ve been angry. “As for the stew… I have no idea what I would add. Dromas steak, perhaps? But I don’t have any cuts on my person. Or perhaps bread. You can never go wrong with bread in stews, can you?” She pauses. The question truly did stump her, after all what would she add to the stew? She didn’t know what was already in it, and whether or not anything she added would mesh well, or ruin the stew. Decisions, decisions.

“What would you recommend? Or rather, what have you added in yourself? This would give me a better idea of how I could approach this stew.”

[eternalthrone]

MUSEUM The shining jewel of Belobogian history and Culture, the museum is calling anyone and everyone to come visit their exhibits! All they ask is that you bring a buddy along with you. You know how that saying goes: the more, the merrier!

As Miko wondered through the Belobog museum, she couldn't help but be fascinated by Jarilo-VI's inhabitants. She might even say impressed. Really though, how often was it that you heard of humans surviving the harshest climates you can imagine and begin rebuilding? Not that she'd ever admit it aloud of course~. While musing about humans, she notices one tiny human in particular looking at previous...what was it called, supreme guardians? Yes it must be that. Anyway, she was looking at them with a lot of interest...too much so. Why, the little one was even muttering something about legacy left behind. Well, now Miko just had to say something now, didn't she~? She simply walked over to her and spoke. "Legacy? Little one, perhaps you should worry about becoming an adult before worrying about what kind of legacy you leave behind, no~?"

The Imperator stared rather intently at the display of paintings of Belobog’s Supreme Guardians. She recognized one, ‘Bronya Rand’, as the current ruler. She recalls the moment shared with Cyrene, where together they witnessed the Deliverer’s memories of a conversation with her. Even now, Cerydra remembers her comment on Bronya’s age, and even now she still feels that sentiment all the same.

Even if it’s a bit hypocritical.

Her eyes trail to follow paintings of the Supreme Guardians that came before Bronya Rand. The golden hair and piercing eyes of Cocolia Rand catches the gaze of the Imperator, and for a moment her eyes dart between the two. ‘Hm. They do not look blood-related.’ It was easy to spot, there were far too many differences between the two women physically to see to it that they were related by blood. Though, it was clear that Bronya Rand bore that same stare, unmistakable of one meant to be a leader.

Unintentionally, the Imperator speaks aloud. “Bronya Rand represents the legacy that Cocolia Rand left behind…”

Shortly after the words, intended for none but still left spoken, left her mouth, the mocking tone of another creeps behind the Imperator. She turns to face the source, and is met with the tall figure of a pink woman with rather unique ears. ‘Had she been one of those ‘Foxians’ from the Deliverer’s memories?’ The question lingered for a moment, before the Imperator chose to clear her throat. She would not allow even an Okheman mock her, let alone some random ‘Foxian’ she hadn’t even spoken to before. 

A hand is placed on her own hip, as she looks up to meet the eyes of her annoyance. “And who are you to presume my age? Let alone decide whether I truly am an adult or otherwise?” Cerydra could almost feel her twitch as she spoke. However, her voice remains still, not wanting to allow this annoyance to get a proper rise out of the Imperator. “We have only now met, but I will say it is improper to comment on the height of the Imperator. I would hope that isn’t hard for one like you to grasp.”