#egittae

[ulircursed]

Wheres my son youre not my son

"Professor Grandfather!!" While Cranberry looks all of the part of a little boy, there's still a bird-like litheness in his movement that he takes advantage of to climb the tall human, settling with his arms clinging around Lambert's shoulders. "Father went back to bed 'cause he didn't get enough sleep. Can you play with me instead?"

[hermidetta]

And why are YOU bald

uncle

[areadboar]

He considered his options, deciding that in the end a direct approach was the best he could do. As much as Lambert didn’t wish to disturb or scare the boy, distancing himself and taking it slowly could too be read as him wanting to avoid facing him in the first place- between that and perhaps giving the prince a scare while trying his best to explain what happened (or at least what he thinks happened) was the lesser of two evils.

…as if there was any proper way of approaching the son who saw you get killed years ago. What a regretful last memory to be left with.

Clenching gloved hands into fists, the professor waited a moment before walking towards Dimitri. The training grounds were thankfully empty, so there was nothing there that would force him into dancing around the bush regarding the subject. Just be direct. As you’ve always been.

“Dimitri?” He called out calmly, but loud enough for the boy to hear. Once he was sure he had been heard, Lambert raised a hand- both in greeting and in defense. “Before you think me an impostor or anything of sorts…know that Matthias is aware of my presence and can confirm it to you. And if even that is not enough, then I am able to answer whatever questions you have in your mind.”

Except for the most obvious, regrettably. 

Despite that, Lambert smiled softly. “...but it is me, Dimitri. In flesh and bone, whole. I am glad to see you again.” It was an understatement- Lambert held onto every fiber in his body to avoid rushing towards the prince and pulling him into a bear hug. He needed to temper himself first. “You have grown so much, my boy.”

It was meant to be his quiet time. One where he knew he had the training grounds to himself, when he could let loose. No more holding back so as not to scare or injure his classmates. Those poor dummies didn't stand a chance against the wrath of his lance. Broken bodies littered the sand around him as he flicked his fringe out of his eyes, sweat droplets falling from the ends, dampening the sand at his feet.

Just before Dimitri could launch into a new flurry of blows, a voice called out. He shook his head. Now was not the time for the ghosts of his past to rise up. Training was meant to dispel them, keep their voices to nighttime hauntings. The voice called again, closer. Sighing, he turned to check it wasn't someone pulling a joke, he wouldn't put it past fel-

The colour drained from his face when he saw who was stood there. It was Lambert. 'But, but he's dead. I saw him die' These thoughts ran through his mind and he clenched his grip on his lance to keep himself standing.

"How... can you be here?" He said shrilly "Are you some new apparition to remind me of my failings?" The man before him couldn't be real. Despite this, Dimitri couldn't deny the part of him which wanted to believe. To cast aside his worries and rush to embrace the man resembling his father. To hide in his strong arms which protected him from the world as a child.

Dimitri took a half-step forward but hung back. "You haven't changed at all" he replied "You look the same as the day I last saw you"

[encantresse]

♡

Send ♡ to see what my muse thinks of yours

●●○○○ | ATTRACTION (he is objectively a handsome man okay) ●●●●○ | AFFECTION ●●●●○ | INTEREST ●●●○○ | LOYALTY ●●●○○ | TRUST

"i feel at ease with professor lambert, which is funny considering there's still much i don't know about him. but every time we've spoken, he's always been sweet to me—kind and thoughtful, too. i also haven't forgotten about all the times he's checked on me to make sure i was okay. not everyone bothers doing that, especially not with someone like me, yet he's always made the effort to. i appreciate it more than he knows.  

it's a bit embarrassing knowing he's seen me at a low point...i wonder if our conversation came as a burden that day. no doubt he has his own concerns to worry about. anyway, i'm grateful to him. he could've easily waved me off and didn't. i felt a bit more sane for it."

[katabatiic]

🎨

(what does he remember from that bizarre first impression)

sharp ass teeth

scruffy facial hair (charm point on men in legault's eyes)

????

[nohrslittleflower]

🎨!

[wolfhednn]

At least one was here. It was a dreadful development but still something that had to be celebrated in his mind.

Rodrigue’s kid, the youngest. Felix. 

Lambert…admittedly doesn’t remember much about the boy, but his features tugged at something else buried deep in his mind. A face that wasn’t his’, yet from the same family. One that shared a fate similar to his own, in the very same place and time. A face he swore he had seen moons ago, when Lambert first dared to use a Death tome.

But alas, out of the four kids- one was here. He could only hope and pray that Dimitri, Sylvain and Ingrid were okay somewhere, looking after one another. A new problem entered the equation however- how to even approach his boy? He hadn’t gotten any chances to properly be in his vicinity until now. It was almost guaranteed that he’ll either be shrugged off at best- and ideally, or at worst…well. It would be down that same road of being blamed as a faker again.

Just don’t recognize me, he hoped. “Felix? From House Fraldarius, correct?” He could just pose as a teacher like any other, checking in on the students. Did you see where Dimitri went? Do you know where any of the other three are? Are they okay?

“Are you okay?”

Why is it that he can see Glenn so clearly on that face? The Felix he remembered was…different. But also much younger.

THIS LONG, HE'D CHOSEN NOT TO CONFRONT IT. he'd heard the rumors, of course. a professor named lambert, a tall, blond man with a striking resemblance to faerghus' crown prince if one stood the two together. too striking to be ignored, especially when more than one had whispered of that same resemblance to a man who should've been dead.

then, once or twice, he'd seen the man himself from afar. never close enough to judge with his own eyes, but he found that he wasn't certain he wanted to.

the boar, after all, had spent this long agonizing over his father's death, along with that of so many others. he spent day and night bearing their tragedies, fashioning their memories into keepsakes and defining himself by them, just like his own father. they really were made for each other——father and son, more than he'd ever been.

so what was he supposed to tell them?

what was he supposed to write home? ' the king's back ', as though that would get him anything but pages of nonsense and rebuke besides? ' it turns out the king is still alive? ' ridiculous.

so he'd avoided the spectre. the corpse, the charlatan, whatever this was supposed to be. the fault in time, or even the goddess' idea of a sense of humor. after all, he'd learned not too long ago that apparently anything was possible. including, it turned out, dead men walking among them whole again. he'd avoided the spectre, and consequently he'd avoided his son. there was no reason he should have two fathers, after all ; how much more coddling could he get?

so, with a huff, "i'm fine," he says. "thanks for your concern."

not wholly able to stifle a cutting tone.

he meets the man's gaze dead-on, matches its uncertainty with unfaltering boldness in equal measure, bordering on audacity. with one more drink from the waterskin in hand, he pushes off the bench on which he'd sought a moment's respite. even that, it seemed, couldn't go uninterrupted by ghosts.

"i have things to do. if it's the boar you're looking for, i haven't seen him."

[stellalimned]

Lambert reached for Limstella, grabbing them from under the arms and lifting them up slightly like a cat, giving the student an once over. Once satisfied with his analysis, he placed them down and gave them a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Thank the Goddess, you are well! With that crowd at the marketplace we could have been easily targeted by petty bandits, so I am glad we both managed to pull through intact.”

Finally allowing himself to truly look at Limstella, the professor nodded. “Our introduction was rather abrupt, I imagine. But I shall start by making it clear that what I and Matthias told you about what it means to feel warmth when under another’s wing was genuine. You may not be my student, per se- I cater to a different house, but I shall still view you as if you were one of my own. That includes giving you all the support and aid you might need.”

“Your performance was expert, and most importantly you carried yourself masterfully throughout the entire time in the city. I could not be more proud of how things have developed.” Lambert finished with a smile, gently patting Limstella’s shoulder as he had done many times throughout their search for supplies.

Pondering over his next words, the professor hummed as he settled with an answer. “Formally speaking, I am Lambert of the Ashen Wolves if you ever come to need my assistance.” Another pause. "As for my relation to Matthias...as you saw, I am a knight under his service. We have known each other for many years."

The way in which Professor Lambert picks me up to appraise me is surprising, as if I am a small animal or a child, though given his height and strength, such a feat must be quite easy for him. He handles me with gentleness throughout his scan and pats me on the shoulder once he sets me down. His relief is prevalent as he speaks, and—and he promises to lend me his aid even though he serves another of the academy's Houses. And his praise is effusive and proud, igniting that curious warmth in my chest and making it grow ever-so-slightly from the tiny spark it has been. Truly, the difference between him and Lord Nergal is night and day. It makes me wonder... what would it have been like, had I been built to be his servant instead of Lord—

No! Blasphemous, disrespectful, incorrect, wrong! I was always meant to be a servant of Lord Nergal, could not have been anyone else's but his. He has always been my master, and for me to even think about serving anyone else save him and his family is evidence of faulty logic. These men, these professors, their quintessence blinds me and is leading me astray. My only goal should be to serve Lord Nergal to the best of my capabilities—but he is gone and dead, and I have nothing but extrapolations of his orders to direct me in this foreign land. How am I meant to function as expected when these men with their warmth and kindness and care are here and he is not? Am I so faulty as to begin to think of having a different master the moment I am exposed to such flawed yet incredible examples of humanity? I must distance myself from them as swiftly as possible—a pang replaces the warmth, the same as I felt when I looked upon Professor Matthias and Professor Lambert as they bickered and joked amongst themselves while I was left to watch.

... What?

I cannot think on Professor Lambert's words of his affiliation or his relation to Professor Matthias, so captured am I by this conundrum I have found myself in. I do not understand what this is or how to identify it; however, the professor was helpful before in defining what made the warmth happen, so he must have some knowledge in this area as well. I turn my attention to him, feeling as if my very form might begin vibrating at any moment.

“Professor—Professor, I must ask you something. If you are in loyal service to someone, and that master dies, and others come along who are warm and kind and caring towards you unlike anything your master did… what must you do? Is it possible to remain in service to that late master to whom you have always been loyal, even though those others treat you like a person and not as the tool that you are?”