#eideslanze

[yewfallen]

of light, heart, and shadow

   “ Aes!! ”  Febail calls out, but the ex-engineer is gone. In his place, an expanse of darkness, metal, and the final objective Aeschylus had given before he had disappeared.

It must be destroyed.

Though Febail won't act like he understands the full extent of his situation, everything seeming so much more massive than him once talk of time and truth and reality come into play, Febail has always known one thing if nothing else: destruction.

If the only way forward, back to his own path, is to destroy what stands before him, then he must simply try. Keeping to the back of their forces, Febail draws Yewfelle and, with a flash of light, releases one of its arrows towards the Light Titanus.

1d20 roll: 1+4, hit rate boosted by < Hit +20. > Miss! 1d2 roll: 1. < Bowrange +1 > active.  Light Titanus HP: 15/15.

It misses, and Febail grits his teeth. Perhaps he’s a bit tipsier than he had thought, he supposes, as he slinks through the back of his allies to find a better place to shoot from.   // @elegiac-boar

[venalier]

CLOAK AND DAGGER. — ♡

          ❝ good, you’re still here. ❞ for his sake, she’d taken pains to cover up a bit too — no glasses like the curious ones he wore, but a cloak of her own, tying back her hair beneath the hood to hopefully keep anyone from recognizing the telltale scarlet. she was curious, yes, but could respect that this was likely more than just a back-alley hustle of the sort he made it look like. no, more than curious, in fact. being fully prepared meant knowing everything it was possible to know ahead of time, certainly more than a hasty order to meet him at the gates when she was ready to depart.

          the shadows of the alley, though a stone’s throw away from the bustling streets of the marketplace, are well-concealed, if today in part by the sheer volume of crowds moving through, making their own supply trips. it was so packed, some bystanders in an alley would hardly warrant a second glance. ❝ i know that you might not be able to explain everything, but any information you can give could be the difference between whether we come back alive or not. sir aeschylus, right? please, at least who you are, where you’re leading us, and any idea of what might be waiting. ❞

      ♡   //    @aeschyluus, @ordelion, @elegiac-boar, & @eideslanze

[incursionparagon]

and they were lance instructors

The rain came down so suddenly that none of you manage to get your umbrellas open in time… But since your gear is drenched and your clothing unsalvageable, you decide to have a little ‘sparring’ in the rain. You smack the other umbrella with yours and grin. En garde! [Grants Sword +1]

It felt fitting, somehow, that this odd ‘new’ year started with rain washing away all else. She saw it in the uneasy way students’ gazes swept across the halls, how they jolted at the sight of some unforgotten friend as though they’d seen a ghost: they, too, remembered a year that hadn’t happened. Just what had left an entire year undone...

The downpour caught her on a day of reprieve, which she obviously spent attending to the already-abandoned chores in need of her diligent attention. Really, how quick some of these students were to slack off! Keeping an eye on the state of their buildings was crucial, lest they fall into disrepair without notice... but when the sudden rain had assailed her, her cautionary umbrella laid idly against a distant crate and out of reach, she’d forgotten just how many cracks of note she’d spied in the stables. A tragedy, truly; there were at least seven.

She’d forgotten, and for what? By the time she’d made her way back to her umbrella, she was already well and truly drenched-- for a fortune without her armor on, but a fully soaked long sleeve shirt was perhaps, in a way, worse. An unhappy situation either way.

A heavy sigh joined the abundant clouds; the knight made for a pitiful sight as she began her long trek back to her own room, wet bangs flicked out of the way with one hand and a decidedly dry umbrella held in the other. They did say misery loved company, however, and the sight of a certain other professor did much to make her wonder if fate had taken mercy on her in a way.

“Ah... Fernand.” A wry smile twisted one corner of her mouth, though the faint warmth of her greeting reached both of her eyes. “I see you and I are neck and neck for the speediest professors outside this afternoon.” A quiet chuckle, and she rested her ‘blade’ in her other palm, striking half of a duelist’s elegant pose. “Why, I may just have to duel you for the title.”

@eideslanze

[aimlessarchery]

an unlikely reunion @eideslanze

Garreg Mach's First Annual Glad-To-Be-Alive Celebration Sometimes, it's the little things. Come give thanks for living another day and celebrate with good food and good company in the Golden Deer Classroom tonight!

The little flyer announces itself proudly from its place on a cork board, with several near-identical copies scattered about the campus. Some are accompanied with a little hand drawn stag in the lower right corner. Python cracks a smile. Hard to say no to a group with a little sense of humor, especially when he can smell a tasty aroma floating from the direction of the classroom.

The classroom has been temporarily converted into a makeshift miniature banquet hall, warmly lit and bustling with energy. A good section of one of the tables seems to be entirely dedicated to piles of whole roasted chickens, with the rest of the table space dedicated to supplemental appetizers and side dishes. Python plucks a bite-sized pastry from a platter and pops it into his mouth. It's flaky, flavored with fresh herbs, and still warm from the oven. Yeah, he could get used to working at a place like this.

He scans the room as he chews, the idle chatter and bright but unfamiliar faces blurring together. Unfamiliar, that is, until a carefully groomed shock of platinum blonde catches his eye.

  He chokes, crumbs falling from his lips as he weakly pounds his chest. Of all the people, him? Of all the places, now??

He sweeps several pastries from the table into the crook of his arm, searching wildly for an escape route, but Fernand is between him and the exit. And now they've made eye contact. Fantastic.

"The hell are you doing here?" He squawks, adding another pastry to his pile. He's going to need the strength to deal with this one. "Thought you went back home to do your noble leaderly things, uh, sir." The honorific is tacked on after a delay and dripping with a brassy impudence.

[theofficersacademy]

i'd hoped it would sort itself out sooner, but i have to admit to feeling tired and stressed of late to the extent that it's impacting my ability to write. with that in mind, i'd like to request a semi-hiatus across all my muses while i try to get back into the groove of things. thank you!

Alfonse, M!Kris, and Fernand are on semi-hiatus until May 11th! Please remember to message the Masterlist upon your return. Thank you!

- Mod Ree

[ceaselessblade]

(♨️) He'd had reservations about using the hot springs. Nothing against the waters themselves, of course—not when they had garnered considerable praise from colleagues and students alike—but rather the issue is that he has no desire to potentially share with others and expose to them what he would prefer to keep concealed as much as possible. Yet depriving himself of the opportunity solely for that reason would be wasteful, especially when their time at the villa is so very finite. What to do...

The springs are mercifully free of occupants when Fernand finally decides to bite the bullet and go, the nobleman sinking into the water with a contented sigh once he's adjusted to the temperature of it ( especially compared to the icy winter air, reminiscent of Rigel's climate ). Tension accumulated over the course of weeks and months melts away in a blink, and his eyes slip closed as he leans back to enjoy the feeling—

—until they fly open again at the sound of approaching footsteps. Blast. Submerging himself until only his head remains above the surface, Fernand's expression turns sour upon catching sight of a regrettably familiar face. 'Of all the people to show up now, it has to be that lunk of a man from the Battle of the Eagle and Lion...'

The weather is cold and chilling, and Ike hears that there is—another spring next to the mansion. He’d seen the other, which was apparently the sulfur ones. This one, he hopes, will smell less. But more importantly, he’d also heard it from a gaggle of students passing by from the springs, which means that they should be clear for the moment.

There’s a chance if he should take it, and he’ll gladly do so. Rather unfortunately, it appears he is too late. Solitude is one of those things that don’t last forever, and as thankful as he is for that, it is not the case here. It’s a man with the combed beige hair. He’s certain he’s seen him before, but… it doesn’t ring a bell. He’s just getting bad vibes, you know? After all, it takes a certain kind of person to gel up hair even when they’re going to the hot springs. Or maybe he’s done it so often that it’s stuck like that. Ahem. Either way, Ike has a feeling he’s probably not going to get along. Oh, that’s right, his sitting posture is about as stiff as an ironing board. In the sauna. It could just be his presence, but that also worries him. A little. For a good second, he pauses. He could just turn around. He considers-- and realizes that he doesn’t really care. He is already here. There’s a functional hot spring in front of him. And it’s not like there’s anything stopping him from taking a dip. They can just be two guys, in a hot spring, chilling five feet away from each other and not making eye contact.

That’s perfectly fine.

“’Excuse me.”

He is the intruding party here, after all. Pulling his tunic over his head, he presses his hand to the rim of the pool, and then helps himself in with a solid splash.

[yewfallen]

kill the heart

    Upon infiltrating the city, the sextet that follows Aeschylus's guidance splinters off into pairs, separating further. Two childhood friends pair up, and the flowery boy goes off with the one that had been speedwalking through the entire process far ahead of them all.

That leaves Febail with the one faculty member that accompanied them all in the first group, and he's fine with that, he supposes. Fernand seemed the type to not fuss much, simply wishing to get things done based on their introductions all those days ago, and Febail finds himself amenable to such a disposition.

Pulling up his cloak's hood more as the two of them are left behind by the others, Febail suggests,  “ Aes said what we're lookin' for's probably on the outskirts. Best we keep from headin' into the city proper then, yeah? ”  The hitman watches the receding figures of Sylvain and Dimitri head towards the heart of the city, silhouettes vanishing quickly.  “ ...Opposite of 'em, in any case. ”  // @eideslanze

[ceaselessblade]

Mounted fighters enjoy the advantage of crossing distances more swiftly than on foot, and it isn't long after the signal to begin is given that he spurs Erhardt into motion, passing the others with ease and setting his sights on a blue-haired swordsman from the Deer. Grip tightens on his lance, thrusting it forward once he's within reach before retreating a short distance; hit-and-run is the name of the game to endure as long as possible. (Roll: 14, potential dmg: 1)

It’s a good exercise as any. Today, the swordsman takes not to the field with his weapon of choice, but instead a stick. For it is a stick that forms the basis of all weapons, but rather in this case-- the lance. He should have done this a long time ago to hone himself with balancing a polearm. He’s not surprised to see a mounted knight charge towards him, and he takes a solid smack to his shoulder as the knight charges past. 

(-1hp)  -> Ike’s HP: [3/4]

A grunt escapes his lips. Angling the quarterstaff, he gives a poke in retaliation, hoping the action is swift enough to strike something upon the knight’s own momentum.  Roll (5, miss)  -> Potential: 0 (Atk boon +0.5)