#azurebeast

[vvindicated]

reunion starter! for @azurebeast

years ago, edelgard had taken the first step on her path to realizing her vision for fodlan : years ago, fenris had turned his back on not only his clan, but the academy and anyone not within the fold of the flame emperor's grand plans in order to stand at her side. that of course had included the crowned prince of faerghus, dimitri. where once his highness may have considered fenris a friend, the masked boy had already resolved who to follow. he hadn't considered it a betrayal, but it seemed as though the deep red of anguish had nevertheless stained dimitri's heart. why else would he so doggedly pursue the assassin now, on the battlefield, had it not been to enact some form of personal vindication.

fenris wasn't so foolish to think he could defeat dimitri - especially not when he was in such a haunted state. where once the prince had been prim and polite, dimitri now seemed half out of his mind. a beast of misery, more so a man. fenris evaded and retreated when appropriate, but made no move to meet the other's offense with his own. those that had been with him on his mission had either been killed already or fled posthaste, trusting in fenris' abilities to fend for himself.

it brought the faintest recollection of the times he and dimitri had spent sparring together at the academy; where the prince's brutal strength had been equal parts comical and alarming. now, on the other side of his unrestrained might, fenris knew that he couldn't allow himself to falter. a misstep here could prove fatal. for his part, he didn't respond to any provocations that may have been screamed his way. there was very little he could say to calm somebody who bayed only for his blood...

[vvindicated]

academy starter! for @azurebeast

the subject of their discussion that day seemed rather innocuous at first - but there seemed to be a kind of uncertainty and hope that lingered underneath the surface of dimitri's question. the topic? did fenris ever find it difficult when dealing with their female classmates?

it was tactfully worded, mindful not to include a question of like or dislike - but rather, if the boy had a difficulty with it. it wasn't a matter of want then, or there lack of, but perhaps a question of some innate feeling that wasn't so logically explained away. an ineptitude, whether real or imagined; by one's measure or by society's. in the sparring ring, sweat finally upon their brows after many rows of training together, fenris slowed his assault. finally, he stood at rest and lowered his weapon. now seemed a good time for a break, so with a head tilt towards the benches, fenris led his "friend" away. with the noise of others still practicing, the distance of their chosen seat, and the intimidation factor of the both of them combined - there was little worry of anyone eavesdropping.

nevertheless, as fenris began the task of rewrapping the bandages around his arms, he picked at the question with a thoughtful seriousness. his verdict was a slow and quiet confirmation, his voice coming out raspy from disuse.

"yes... in matters of the heart, i am... unskilled. in battle, no. it is not difficult." he tried to clarify to the best of his limited ability, finding this too to be a touch too close to the heart. at least when it came to dimitri, the prince had always shown a willingness to take control of the conversation. he kept things polite, even when he probed about edelgard. if he was perchance asking about academy affairs as fenris suspected, then this would surely be the first time they'd broached the topic. dimitri hadn't struck fenris as the sort to gossip, so there must have been more to the question than met the eye... in which case, the assassin could only do his best to be patient and open minded while he waited for the other boy to reach the crux of whatever was truly eating at him.

[chanteusi]

@azurebeast

Dorothea is nothing short of curious. One says it must kill the cat, disembowel it until there is but a warm cavity, but she thinks otherwise: why, if the cat is so nimble – an escape artist that weaves through the nooks and crannies of its obstacles – must it meet such an untimely demise? Curiosity, in fact, can benefit the cat, much like how it benefits Dorothea: a particular insight into the minds of those around her, revealing information as the layers peel away. And so, here she is, eyeing the heir to the dukedom of Fraldarius from the training grounds, mindlessly interrupting her own practice. From her two-minute observations, he seems guarded and tense; quite the wail from his body language, a tell of a jewel worth looking into. Besides, what harm could it do to keep him company?

“So,” a melodic note in the midst of a silence near-impenetrable, “I much like to experiment with rapiers and broadswords–” she prances to him, a sweet bit of honey to the step of her boots, and raises her head to meet what stare he prepares: disinterest, indifference, it only fuels her desire for something more. She holds the latter aforementioned sword in her hand, decorated with a thin blade that sparks minute gleams in the light and an artistic twist in the smooth bronze of its hilt, allowing for the enrapture of delicate fingers. It rests a heavy weight on her wrist, adorned with golden bangles that clang into one another with every movement, but it becomes a sort-of comfort. Emerald irises flit from the weapon to the dark-haired boy before her, all cantankerous with a focus a thousand miles away from Dorothea’s voice. How rude: the utmost thought in her conscience. “Felix, is it? What do you think?”

Dorothea raises the sword in a decorated gesture and lowers it slowly, the gentle press of the blade against her so-called companion’s chest. (if they were the only two in the training grounds and Dorothea chose to speak between them, would it be so wrong to consider them so? Questions, questions.) she quirks a brow, tilts her head as brunette tresses fall over her shoulder, and she stands with her legs shoulder-length apart, battle-ready. Any moment to act is a moment to define oneself in front of another, and Dorothea is a master at such a craft; the very fine contortions of her countenance curl into a daring smile, eyelids hooded and shoulders squared. Confidence, Dorothea, confidence. “Care to share some sword knowledge with the class? You seem well-acquainted.”

[failnaughtt]

@azurebeast made me do it.

Dimitri doesn't think his personality is good. He worked so hard for a hot body thinking it'd be enough only for Claude to say he likes people with good personality. Bless.

Inspired by a meme artwork by satrise

[failnaughtt]

@azurebeast cont from x

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Dimitri's never yelled, even though Claude always thought that he's gifted in that department. The prince could most certainly send ripples across battalions and battalions of soldiers if he wished, but he's never raised his voice. Not in the time Claude knew him, at least. So it was certainly surprising to hear him from this distance. It was killing him not to sneak up and eavesdrop on what's happening, especially when it could be a hot topic that keeps the school talking. So imagine his surprise when it's Dimitri yelling at Sylvain for making 'ill-gotten' friends and being an accomplice to something insulting.

Ah.

Ah....

Ah..........

Sylvain deserved it, for having friends like that.

To say he's surprised, as the conversation unfolds, was an understatement. Being Dimitri's friend comes at a price no-one-will name. You simply just know once you know him long enough. He thought that someone like Dimitri would have placed his priorities on the larger picture, rather than the way other's opinions land on his physical appearance, but he can't help feeling endeared to learn that he's bothered by something so frivolous.

He steps into the duo once there's an opening to invite himself into the conversation. "There, there, Your Princeliness. Did I ever tell you how manly you looked?" The words itself causes all his muscles to cram the very moment they rolled off his tongue. Oh, how cringe this is. He's going to regret this. He winks at Sylvain before he could, signalling the ginger that he's saving him from a very long-winded lecture. As Sylvain fades away he takes his place and takes Dimitri by his fingers and places them on his face. "From that angle, over there. I realized how broad your shoulders looked. How defined your muscles are. Care to tell me some of your secrets? I definitely could use some tips to buff myself up."

[failnaughtt]

cont ... @azurebeast

He smiles briefly as he looks towards Dimitri, searching for the slightest crack in that placid mask for some tell that might reveal if his words have been circling a deeper truth. He finds nothing except another smile returned just as easily polite. Claude always finds him strange. He embodies the Faerghan code of honour just as easily as a wyern's hatching takes to water, yet for a man shaped by a world that demands wariness, especially from someone speaking to a future king, and an emperor like Edelgard, who rings every alarm bell as she should, Dimitri makes conversation feels alarmingly simple. Like speaking to an old friend. Claude isn't sure if he's resents that, or if it unsettles him more than it should.

Well, at least Dimitri is easy on the eyes. Gold strands pool down his head, swept to the side to add that regal touch and keep a sleepy look under check. And those eyes - that fierce violent blue - drags him back to his father's collection of sapphires. Claude never considers himself partial to blonds, but then again there weren't many blonds back in Almyra, and he'd been a little busy not dying to develop any strong aesthetic opinions.

"I see." He nods. "That makes an awful lot of sense. Unlike you, my parents never made me a list of what books were mandatory, but guess they never stopped me from reading anything either. Books have been my past time since I was six."

His hand slips up the spine of the book that Dimitri is reading to lower it, revealing a mischevious grin, though there's some seriousness in them if Dimitri cares to notice.

"....Which brings us to the topic: Even you know about the forbidden section, eh?" He bounces a grin on the corner of his lips as if he's saying gotcha. He didn't expect Dimitri out of all the people here to take a fancy on the restricted section. His fingers tap the book, savouring the moment. "And here I thought no one ever questions the church. Don't you think it's strange how heavily guarded it is?" A wink. "I bet there's some valuable information there they don't want us knowing."

[failnaughtt]

no wife and no reason at all, i think orson would be spending like crazy because he doesnt see the point of keeping money anymore. i mean someone would easily pursuade him.

They are going to be terrible together because Claude too has no concept of money. Dimitri ( @blueboarprince ) needs to jump in and manage these 2 idiots.

[failnaughtt]

@blueboarprince ... cont

A rather surprised expression manage to colour his features at the prince's reply. He thought that Dimitri would have known already, that he wouldn't have to explain the notion in detail. But it would seem like he'd shot himself in the foot. It's quite embarrassing having to go through your mental list of experiences in order to justify an unfounded accusation.

"Well, I had a noble lady who dropped a handkerchief in front of me once. It was on purpose. Believe me, I can tell. But I picked it up, you see, I just wanted to do her a favour just like the way I'd done it just now, but she got pretty angry after insisting that I refuse to take any accountability for my actions." He recounted an incident from when he'd just newly assumed the title of Oswald Riegan's official heir. He had been quite naive back then. He wasn't privy to the ways of Fodlan that were different in Almyra. "My ol' man had to show himself to resolve the matter and clarify that I wasn't toying with that noble maiden's heart. Poor girl looked ready to challenge me to a duel by the end of it. Hard not to feel a little guilty." A shrug of his shoulders as he shook his head.

"I read it up at the library once I get the chance, and... A handkerchief of all things. Fodlan nobles really know how to complicate an afternoon." He could feel his cheeks heating up at the mental image of the text he'd read at the moment. Raising a hand, he presses it against the side of his head. Ah, it's such a headache to do everything wrong here. But he continues, "Apparently, it's... meant to imply a permission for courtship. But I dunno, it feels wrong to see someone dropped something and actively refuse to pick it up. Dont'cha think?"

His eyes return to meet Dimitri's gaze. The prince had seemed genuinely clueless about the matter. Claude could tell an earnest reaction from a deceptive one. He couldn't help but tips his head to the side in curiousity, "Judging by that look on your face, I'm guessing nobody's ever thrown a handkerchief at you before."