“Marni!!” Leif calls out to the blonde to stop her in her tracks. He rushes to catch up, stopping an arm's length away from where she stands. “You're pretty hard to find, did you know that??”
No matter, Leif digs through his pockets and pulls out a small drawstring pouch, holding it out to her.
“Now that I've found you, here's your gift for the winter festival. It's no emblem ring but...”
Opening it, she'd find a simple ring with an adjustable band. It's made of light silver metal and has a small amberish stone in the center.
“... I went to Lythos and saw what my ring looked like. I'm not good at metalworking, so I can't recreate the ring exactly what it looked like, and I don't have enough money to get you something custom-made from an artisan either... but I wanted to get you something to make up for what you lost.”
It had no power. It wouldn't do anything, much less engage, but it was a ring made by his hands for her nonetheless.
“It should fit your finger if you adjust the band.”
christmas 2025
On a list of people who would be easy to pick out in a crowd, Marni would rank fairly high. She might be a little further down that list when wearing her everyday uniform instead of her armor, but still pretty high up compared to most of the population at this monastery. By looks alone, she would not normally be considered a person that is very hard to find.
"Oh, well, y'know, there's a reason for that..."
A reason she does not expand upon. She likes Leif well enough, but if word were to spread even further than it has, then she'll lose the place she can retreat back to when she needs to lick her wounds, away from prying eyes. Sure, it's dark and musty down in Abyss, but that's just how churches normally are.
(Isn't it just that her stomach still twists in knots at the thought of actually taking responsibility for what happened?)
Marni wastes no time in opening up the drawstring bag, not a single thought spared for decorum. Tumbling out onto her open palm is a ring, just as Leif had described it and similar enough to the one that exists in her memories. Anyone would be able to tell it's the work of an amateur if they'd seen the real thing, lacking the intricate gold trim around the band.
Slipping the ring onto her finger, she calls out: "Emblem... Engage!"
...
As expected, nothing happens. Leif does not lift off the ground, nor does the strong brown of his eyes give way to pale blue or red. Marni is not granted one of Emblem Leif's many weapons in her hand nor does her hair take on that green tint she'd seen before. There is no secret, no trick, just a regular gemstone set in a regular band.
It is truly just a regular ring, made for one human being by another human being.
"Hahaha! Figured as much. I just wanted to try saying it once, since they were all saying it all the time." Even though nothing happened, she does not lower her hand. She leaves it in the air, letting the stone catch the light. "Y'know, I really liked his ring because of the power it gave me. But I've never had a ring made just for me before."
She'd taken Sigurd's ring. She'd taken Roy's ring, too. But the only one she had been given is this one, right now.
The night of the winter festival, Leif knocks softly on Nanna's door. After a day of being a prince, of being for the people beyond her, carrying his gifts to show his own gratitude and way of thinking of others, or at least his attempts to, he is stripped of all the weights preparing that many gifts had given him. He comes to Nanna's door as a boy— as he is.
He has one box left with her name on it.
Nanna,
He's gotten a bit better at writing letters, he thinks, for all she had complained of how little he once wrote before.
Another winter festival has come upon us. It's odd not having you with me. I feel odd greeting the seasons without you, and Finn's return into our lives only makes it feel even odder.
But the world has always been meant to change from the moment we left Fiana, hasn't it?
We didn't leave Fiana together, but I left it chasing after you. I don't think it was a good thing you were kidnapped, but looking back, I wonder if it isn't very like you. Not getting kidnapped, though you DO get into more trouble for my sake than I'd like.
(He digresses.)
I've been thinking a lot about Princess Miranda since you left. I think about why she was how she was and why I wanted you. Princess Miranda and I always talked about the past, but you always pushed me towards the future, didn't you, Nanna? It was you being kidnapped that made me ask Eyvel to let me go— to stop hiding. If I was going to run, I'd run towards you.
You cherish the time we had back in Fiana, but you ask me if I'm ready to be King and face a life where we don't go back. So if I'm chasing you, I have to chase the future too. I'll never get there if I don't change because that's what the future needs of us all.
I've been childish and shown you ugly sides of myself on my road to get there, Nanna. But if you still like me...
The letter cuts off there. Truth be told, he doesn't know how to end it. He doesn't know where to ask her, when to ask of her, or anything.
So he doesn't. He continues on as if it's entirely natural.
My gift to you this year is actually two. I made you a picture frame, though it's pretty small. It wouldn't be able to have a whole royal portrait, but when you told me in your last letter that you liked wading ankle deep in the sea, I wanted to give you something like that. It's not the sea, but it has seashells I picked off the shore in Adrestia.
The other was what I had meant to give you after the Ethereal Ball. You don't have to take it, but I thought it wouldn't be good to have it in my desk by the next time I meet you. It feels like if I keep it there, I'd be holding onto something forever.
I want to face you again, Nanna. When you're ready to see me, come find me, and I'll be there to hear you this time.
Leif
Besides the letter, included inside the box alongside the aforementioned picture frame is a handmade tiara of mismatched pearls— hardly the perfect, picturesque one Miletos is famous for, but strewn together by Leif all the same.
Leif leaves it all in front of her dorm, gone like a leaf in the wind but not untraceable.
------
hosannan answered:
Nanna cried the first time she received this gift in full. Truly received it, that is. Her thumbs dragged over corners and her indexes wrapped around bends. Letters and boxes have so many corners, she started to get lost in the feeling. With her hair spilled over her shoulders, she collected herself in the intangible, as sentiment became minutes of pouring over each meticulous detail. How he might have written each line, how he must have stooped down to pick up each seashell to inspect in his hands. How each adhered to the frame like fingers pressed on stamps.
Leif articulates himself in passion wherein he doesn’t know what comes next. With words, without them— he cannot see into the future but walks it anyway. Did it feel like chasing specters? To have a place and time and vision already expected to fruit, even if the tree had not grown in its leaves yet? What was it like to be Leif of Fiana? To love without the right words for it, and to love with pasted seashells and bent wire in your hands, as pearls spilled through your fingers?
She wondered if there was dust piling in the small corners of Leif’s room where she would have rested this frame. It gets colder every time she thinks about it.
What do pearls mean to them?
Are they in a position to fulfill promises like this?
Without facing each other nor away from each other, she can only surmise how he feels right now. They used to be able to understand without looking, backs pressed against each other. As they surveyed perimeters, as they bent elbows and wrists in combat, as they sat in silence. Back then, even with shelled armor, she thought she could feel his pulse. And now a pearl tiara rested on her lap, catching on her skirts. Beautiful. Misplaced. In a time where it should have meant something, it fell into a limbo with everything else. Each mismatched pearl was more beautiful than the last, only because they weren’t perfect. How long had he held onto this?
How long was Miletos stashed in a drawer somewhere, and his knees left unbent? If she had kept her mouth shut that night, she wonders if sometime in this year, he would have proposed for a third time. And if he would have dashed all her fears with a bouquet of unfrayed roses. And if her lungs could take it. The joy and mismatched pearls and words that would never articulate. If Nanna had the foresight to warn herself, would she have? Even if it cost her a voice and an opinion, would it give her peace of mind?
She thinks she knows the answer.
—
The first letter, left at the door earlier that day, had been wrought with the kind of sentimentalities that came with distance. Small words, big words, all dancing around the subject of “what are we?” and glossing over significant milestones she had heard he achieved throughout the year. Hearsay, roundabouts, rumors. She made it about the past again, and knew its stiltedness arrived so soon after her response during her birthday. She bore no intention, but its incidental coldness came at the irony of her gift. A handmade quilt, padded and warm, with patches of fabrics she had collected and used in her own tailored pieces. There is as much love as there are words unspoken.
Her second, left at the door after the festivities were over, is…
Leif,
Do you remember what I said to you at the climax of the war? I will follow you to the ends of the earth. How can I define that, now that I know that you’re chasing me?
Her second is more human.
…I’m teasing you, you know.
The future that everyone expects you to chase, is it already laid out for you? If chasing me means chasing the future, can I admit something to you? The world might anticipate Thracia to look and feel and grow a certain way, but if it has a heart, that cannot be predetermined. It’s unpredictable, and it sways to each passing wind. What I am saying is: if you are willing to chase the future with me in it, my heart is yours, but it will not come easy. The future is yours, but it will not come easy. Thracia is yours, but it will not come easy.
The temperament, desires, and voice you want to hear are here. They won’t be perfect by any means, but I hope you can accept that what you’re chasing is a work in progress…
I’m not perfect, and neither is the future.
I miss you. It’s been some time since I’ve put that onto paper. But I do. I don’t regret what’s come before this, if it means we can work for something different next year. Happy holidays, Leif. I am sorry this is coming so late, but I really mean it.
Nanna
Enclosed is a hairpin that looks unlike the ones she’s worn in the past. More winglike in nature, each feather fans in fronds, and there are secure metallic pieces holding them in place.
In a party as lively as the Ethereal Ball, it could be said to be a sort of miracle to hear such a soft noise as the jingling of bells. And yet, Leif does. He finds himself drawn to it, following that curious noise until he finds himself to a quieter part of the beach.
Here, the noise is louder, but at the same time, it's also way more obvious that he's been following her, isn't it?
Caught red-handed when she turns to face him, Leif sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, not really sure how to hide it. Should he? Was there even any real point to doing so?
“ Hey. I heard a jingling noise so I followed it, ” he awkwardly manages, deciding to just speak the truth. “ That noise... it was you, wasn't it?? How'd you make that noise...?? ”
In all the hustle and bustle, it isn't so strange for yourself and a stranger to share a path for a while -- that is, for a while. Even Maria in her often carefree demeanor can feel a prickle crawling up her neck when that presence persists. Surely it was harmless, or coincidence, or both. But then, she had thought the same thing in Khadein.
The glance she throws over her shoulder is uncommonly sharp, for her standards, though it rounds in the next instant, recognition making full the hearth of her eyes once more. That's... well, she knows him, at least. Rather, she knows of him the same way you recognize anyone you pass by in the hallway enough times at school, but it's sufficient.
"Hee hee... heeheehee!" Both hands fly to cushion the cascade of giggles that pours from her lips, its flow pushed along by that extra tinge of relief. "I'm sorry," Maria breathes, fingertips retreating from over her lips to just beneath them. "It's just-- you surprised me, that's all!" How can she be upset when he looks that sheepish? Fleetingly, he almost reminds her of Chad, though he has no great big cape to endearingly turtle into.
"Hello," she finally answers, grinning from above her fence of fingers. "Yes, that's me! My name is Maria. It's really nice to meet you!" Though he asked her a question, and she would hate to disappoint; a playful flick of the wrist and flip of her hair, and she reveals the little bells hanging from her ears. "My friend gave me these earrings! They're charmed, so they don't make too much noise. Just a little bit when I move!"
-- Oh! So, then...?
"Hee hee... Which I guess would be lots and lots at a ball, huh?"
The line of her lips settles into something gently drawn, steeped in warmth and affection, and a twinkle in her eyes that understands the pull of such curiosity.
"It's only a little mystery," Maria admits, finding it to be a bit of a shame; if she had followed the sound of bells persisting by the nighttime tide, she might have been just a little bit disappointed. Or perhaps not, if she managed to meet someone new? Potentially even a friend -- how lovely that would be! Both hands move as if to remove her earrings, but when she holds out her palm, she has slipped a pearl alongside it.
"Would you like to look at it?" Her head cants, a-glow with a passing shimmer of her great, unspoken mischief until it pops! like a bubble, a smile left in its place.
Though Leif finds it difficult to believe a man as emotionally constipated as Finn would cared enough about this kind of thing to mastermind it as such, there's a part of the prince that wonders if he timed it so perfectly that he'd arrive in Fódlan just mere days before his birthday. But, no, even with him noticing that suspicious time frame, the more he thinks on it, the more impossible it sounds.
For all Leif has always been spoiled by Finn, always ensured he had a plate with food to eat on it even if it came at the sacrifice of Finn's own hunger, Leif cannot pinpoint even one moment that the reverse has ever been true. There had been an attempt at a sacrifice in the form of Leif's blade for Finn's life, but even that had been thwarted.
Finn has never been given such treatment in return, and Leif can't name a year where the man has blatantly asked for it. Perhaps it was the fact Nanna's birthday was always so close, or perhaps it was because things had always been hard to come by for them growing up. Leif has always grown up knowing Finn's birthday, but as a child, he held little power and freedom to gift or organize, and so the years passed, Finn's mien always unflappable, never seeming fazed by such lacking times on his ward's part.
But this year was going to be different!!
“Finn!! Eat up!” Leif announces, freshly recovered from his most recent trip to the infirmary. He wasted no time since, and now, he calls the man to the kitchen to bask in the fruits of his labor. Several small plates featuring dishes Selfina, Glade, Dryas, and Xavier have so helpfully mentioned to Leif in the past of what they missed from Leonster are presented to the best of the prince's ability. They have no artful presentation whatsoever because of this, but they are, if nothing else, edible and complete and slightly underseasoned.
In addition, Leif has steeped the tea blend he remembers Nanna having made the most for Finn in the past. Surely, that would mean it's his favorite, right? Because gauging from the man's reactions was... difficult.
Leif does not trust those. He is not starting now.
“Every year you raised me, you went without food to always ensure I didn't have to go without. You have my gratitude, but now I wish to return some of that favor. I can never make it up to you... but happy birthday, Finn.” Pouring him a cup in an ostentatious fashion from an outrageous height, (it may be Finn's birthday, but Leif still liked to show off; call it old habits from his part-time job on this continent) Leif sets it for the knight alongside the rest of the spread. “You'll eat it for me, won't you, Finn?”
When called to follow, Finn does so without hesitation. The date is an inconsequential aspect of the request; if Leif asks for him, he will be there, be it to face the hostile world against them or for smaller, simpler things.
This is one of those small and simple things. Though summoned, he is asked to wait while the “finishing touches” are done, and he does so without question despite the confusion growing within him. Whatever it is, Leif seems to be taking it seriously, and so Finn does in turn, waiting outside the kitchen with his back to the door, arms cross behind him until he is called to join him inside.
Eat? Finn’s frown grows as he inspects the plates in front of them. More food than he would normally indulge in on his own has been prepared and placed out like a mini buffet. It almost feels like a luxury. “This is kind of you, my lord, but I’m sure there’s better uses of your time than babysitting me to make sure that I eat…”
Actually…it takes him a closer inspection to realize it, but the dishes are familiar. They’re not quite prepared in the right way, like they were prepared with only the vague idea of the meals in mind, but he eventually begins to recognize them. Dishes from a time long past, when they had the luxury to sit and talk and enjoy their food instead of eating just to survive. A time before the world placed itself on their shoulders.
He’s been staring blankly at the dishes for some time. He only realizes it when Leif starts to talk again. “It is not a favor you need to repay.” Finn objects immediately. “What I did, I would have done again, without hesitation. I never once considered it something you needed to repay me for. It is enough for me to know that you even feel that way at all.”
His birthday again, hmm? How lucky he must be to have people who remember what it’s like to celebrate such a thing.
The way the tea is poured makes him reach out to grab Leif’s wrist, but he’s already done before Finn reaches him. He takes the cup instead and lifts it up to smell it. It’s not his favorite for the flavor. Nanna had always looked so proud whenever she brewed it, and so eager present him with it. The smile she wore after he drank it had been his favorite part of the experience.
“If you’ll join me.” He agrees after a sip. He places the teacup down so that he can pinch one of the plates by its edge and push it towards Leif. “If you are going to sit and watch me eat, I would rather know you are eating too.” Familiar meals are best shared, after all.
Do you know what the category for terms like intersex and perisex is called?
Like how cis, trans, iso, etc. has gender modality / sex modality. It's like gender/sex modality in that it describes a specific relation to gender/sex, but unlike gender/sex modality, it's not about correspondence/transitioning and is just what a person is born with. And, typically anyways, those modalities aren't genders/sexes in it of themselves, like man/woman/nonbinary/etc. would be the actual gender, and cis/trans/iso/etc. is the relationship to said gender, but intersex/perisex kinda(?) are sexes.
Terms that fit, I guess, from what I know:
Sex characteristics (link): some jurisdictions use this term over just "sex" to encompass the legal protections intersex people have geolocally. For example, the term sex-based discrimination typically refer to sexism or misogyny, whereas sentences using this term, such as 'discrimination due to sex characteristics', could emphasize the inclusion of intersexism;
Sex traits ([w]; [x]; [y]; [z]): this is an alternative to sex characteristics
The term variations also appear, however, the term variations in sex characteristics (VSC) implies it refers to variance, so dyadic wouldn't be included. However, the terms "endosex variations" and "perisex variations" are in use by some.
Sexness/sexedness or sexuation/sexuatedness (from intersexness and intersexuation, meaning intersexedness) could be a thing, however they are mostly about the (cap)ability to reproduce sexually (sexedly)/sexedliness.
I'm not sure if people used the term "sex alignment" but this could also refer to multiple things contextually.
Sex identity is also used, however many would not see intersexness as solely identitary.
Edit: @queercripintersex reblogged with: Pretty sure I've seen "intersex status" used for this and depending on context may be a good option
Comment: I also saw @intersex-questions referring to altersex terms as sex labels, so that's an option, sounds more for hyponyms.
“ Dorothea! That's your name, right? ” Leif greets the songstress with some degree of surprise, paths crossing at the mouth of a cavern. He'd gone there alone to collect his thoughts away from the main traffic of the ball venue, but every now and then people passed by through here. He rises from where he was sitting, perched on one of the higher rocks, and jumps down elegantly to be at something closer to eye-level with her.
“ Your look is very different from what it was at the party a few moons ago. It's the same color as someone else here, ” he notes. “ Are you over here in a similar capacity to that party back then? If there's people you're looking for, a lot of couples have been entering those caverns. ”
He gestures behind them obliviously. He lowers his voice in a somewhat conspiratorial manner.
“ Some of them come out pretty upset. Others seem to do perfectly fine though. It's been odd. I don't know how to handle them at all... ”
𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋 2025
"i was your hostess and you're still unsure if that's my name?" she quips in greeting, taking a small step back to accommodate his presence in her space. "but yes, it is. and you're leif. i know because i never forget a face."
he was rather direct in his manner of speech, wasn't he? blunt—never coating his words with frills or saccharine flavoring to make them easier to swallow. something she could appreciate in moderation and under the right circumstances.
observant, too. the corners of her lips curl at the mention of the person she'd matched with, the fact that he'd remembered what she’d worn but was still uncertain about her name, and more humorously still, how unaware he seemed about the topic they'd touched on at the party those months ago. and no comment about her dress—whether he found it pretty or stylish.
dorothea exhales softly through her nose, amused.
she pauses at what he says next, namely at his interpretation and the way his voice dips conspiratorially. eyeing him quietly for a moment, assessing whether he is truly serious about what he says or merely jesting, before stifling a small laugh.
"i see. would i be right in assuming you're not very... experienced with romance?"
“ Hey, are you alright? You were pretty loud in that game over there. ” The announcer had already attracted attention, and Leif had considered spectating, but it was when one person from that side of the beach had been shouting curses left and right that it had really pulled him from his thoughts elsewhere. Thinking to investigate it, he comes in at the tail-end when the woman in question had already been eliminated, hobbling away.
He still doesn't know what happened in the game but...
“ Your foot looks pretty bad. ” Her sandals make it a bit easier to discern than otherwise. He kneels, offering, “ I'm a healer. I can heal this for you. I can't imagine you'd want to keep it like this... Is that alright?? ”
Though her foot is wounded, nothing has taken more damage than her pride has. To be defeated so swiftly in this game-- by a CRUSTACEAN, no less. A tiny creature who was no bigger than even a fraction of her foot! Yet that lifeform held more bloodlust than some massive beasts she's seen, judging by how readily and quickly it decided to latch on.
Say'ri almost wishes it pinched Darios, too. So another may share in her pain, yet she does realize it's a petty thought.
An unfamiliar voice calls to her, and she feels her face heating up upon recalling that LITERALLY EVERYONE just watched her freak out because of a crab. A clearing of her throat follows as she steels herself for the conversation to come, hoping desperately it's not one made to poke fun at the situation.
And it's not. The boy shows genuine concern, and she blinks for a few moments before offering him a smile. She's no stranger to various cuts and bruises, and this is nothing compared to what she went through alongside Chrom...
"That's very kind of you, sir," She opts for taking a seat on a nearby bench, sighing as she tilts her head back slightly. " 'Tis not as bad as it seems. I believe I am more anguished over my pathetic reasoning for a loss..."
Speaking of which. Where is that crab?
There's a split second where Say'ri feels her blood run cold, because in the moments that Leif kneels before her... she sees the little bastard, set free by Darios's hand as it skitters towards her newfound ally.
It's at his-- his butt. She stares it down, mortified, opening her mouth to speak with sweat beading at her forehead and a shaky hand pointing. It's already raising its deadly little claw, reaching out for an innocent man's hind end.
"Sir, wait-- Behind you--"
Bumping into the tactician, Leif tries to keep her from falling too much from the collision, catching her by the shoulder.
“ Whoa! Sorry about that. ” He quickly apologizes and pulls away once they're both upright, checking over her person to see nothing somehow went amiss. When he does, he recognizes two things.
From afar, he's pretty certain he's seen that bracelet, the one with the moon, on it before.
The other, the striking color that she chooses to adorn herself with.
Leif, knowing at this point little good would come of pointing out the former, chooses instead to focus on the latter.
“ ... Katarina, right? Sorry, I remember your name more as Ms. Meadow-Brook when we were at that mansion. ” Now that he thinks of it, that time was in Adrestia too, wasn't it? “ You were assigned a color like that back then too, right? Did you end up liking it so much? ”
Or was it a coincidence? Perhaps she was always dressed like this and this was a moment of serendipity.
--it is surprisingly nostalgic, bumping into someone like this, and surprisingly novel for having been the one charging ahead the last time. I-I'm sorry. I was in a hurry, and... Excuse me, did you come here to become an Altean knight as well? If only she had been as sturdy and as swift, she could have spared Kris from even just one more small hurt.
"I'm alright," Katarina reassures him, the corners of her lips quirking faintly upwards. She has never been blessed with the gift of an easy smile, but gratitude makes up enough of the difference. And she is grateful, though the expression naturally fades as recognition begins to take hold. He's--
"Oh," she answers, very eloquently. The tips of her ears suddenly feel hot -- yes, he was one of the lovely Baroness' assistants during her grand event. Yes. He helped with her attempted 'attempted murder'. Yes. A hand brushes at her hair self-consciously, but it passes soon enough, swept away with a quiet exhale that is not quite a laugh, but lighter than a breath.
"...yes, that's me. I hope you've been well, Leif." From what she had heard, he'd done his job quite admirably. The conversation turns to the color of her dress, and she raises a gloved arm as if to reexamine it. "Oh... I did. Actually..." Her voice softens somewhat, as if confessing to the the least of her sins. "...I wore that same outfit to the ball last year. The color is a bit too strong to wear every day, but I saw this dress..."
...She gets the sudden, distinct feeling that she's talking too much about something boring. "...I thought it would be nice... for a special occasion, at least."
As she hastens to cut herself short, Katarina turns her attention toward Leif's ensemble instead. It proves a stark contrast to how she last remembers him, this time clad in a striking blue and wreathed in brilliant white. And an earring, too! A...
...hm?
Since then, I've embraced pearls as though they are a mark of my love...
Is it? Could he be--? Yes, she supposes Nanna's outfit does look much like his! Without so much as realizing it, her entire expression changes subtly, yet wholly, warm in full where before she had been reserved as she is to the rest of the world. So, she had marked him with her love.
"...You have a lovely earring," Katarina smiles. "It suits you." Oh, how she would love to ask Nanna if her guess is correct... but not tonight.
