#exclted

[teneguine]

"Owa-ahem- um... Oberon," Lucina is careful to correct herself, whether the students that still linger in the classroom are paying attention or not, "I had meant to bring you this earlier, but..."

But it didn't feel extravagant enough. Nothing she could give him would ever compare to that which he had given her. In all of their years bound by both blood and friendship, Lucina's mind had never once held the same wonder as his.

For a time she had envied that, had wished to compare to the brilliance her cousin could spout off without even a second thought, but it had taken only a handful of years for envy to wane into admiration. She would never be Owain, but she didn't need to compare to appreciate the companion that he made.

Still, it was a little difficult to rival a giant bird when it came to birthday gifts.

Exalt picks her way carefully through the room and towards his desk, determined despite her own silly embarrassment. Only when she has come to face him finally does she remember to breathe, do her shoulders relax and her lips melt into a smile.

Because she was not Owain, and he had never expected her to be.

"I had this made a bit ago by a local smith... it's all leftover material, but I figured every weapon these came from has a story for you to come up with." It feels silly, she feels silly, but she hands a little linen pouch over to him anyway.

Inside is a bracelet of soft, braided leather adorned with old steel. There's a tiny engraving on the inside, one carved carefully to resemble their shared brand.

"It's no sheath, it doesn't serve any practical purpose, but..." Exalt shakes her head, "I have something from you to carry with me always, I figured it was time I returned the favor."

A hand comes to his shoulder, squeezing gently. Her voice has quieted now, enough so that it does not dare reveal his true name to those still in earshot. "Happy birthday, Owain."

//via birthday asks; no longer accepting

Crimson flashes over his cheeks. Owain has half the mind to remind Lucina that speaking his name in public is an easy way of ruining his mysterious secret. But he can hardly muster up a word before she picks back up again, explaining what sounds like a rigorous process for picking out a gift.

Just this once, he'll let it slide.

"By the blustering axe of Bartre! Lucina, this sounds legendary! You really shouldn't have... But seeing as how you did, let's take a look inside..."

His gaze widens as he accepts the gift, cloth entering the palm of his hand. "It looks small, but..." carefully, his fingers enter from the top. They widen its cinch until they can fit, and as soon as he can feel what's inside, Dark recoils.

"G-GAAHHHH! But its power...!!"

It is unveiled with a dramatic fling, its carrier left to drift onto the floor. Now, unraveled and in the light, it can be inspected by Owain. As his eyes trace over its form, tilting it to get a look at all its different angles, he makes a strange sort of face. Like he's being overwhelmed by dark energies or assaulted by some voice of the abyss. He gives off the impression that the distance he holds it from his face is entirely necessary.

"URRGH! Can't... Control... AUGH! MY ACHING BLOOD!!!"

Dark slips it round the wrist of his branded hand. It's a perfect fit, though one Lucina will not see for long, for he instantaneously flips back and unsheathes his sword.

"This ceaseless artifact of famed might has unleashed the slumbering supernova within my soul!" Reforged steel cuts a clean stroke across the open air. Then again, and a third time for good measure. None of his attacks are aimed at Lucina, but rather some pretend foe he seems to be making up for the sake of expressing his gratitude. "Darkness unending! I could sever the bonds between the fabric of reality and marble of time if I so dared! URAHH! My chosen relic, which I dub The Band of Starlit Might, fuses with the stratosphere of my cosmic form, granting me total invincibility!"

To round out his routine, he lowers his Missiletainn and holds his fist to the sky. There, Lucina can see how the bracelet fits--its brand perfectly showcased on his arm.

"This gift is incredible, o Exalted One! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!" Dark stops to flash a few more poses, allowing his cousin to get the most out of her gift by watching him enjoy it. Some see him layer his hands over his body to conceal what wishes to remain mystique and reveal what brims with power, others invoke a stronger sort of meaning--either taking the shape of a noble weapon or familiar animal to achieve the effect.

"I shall never take it off," he declares, finally stepping forward to squeeze Lucina against his chest, "not even during bath time!"

[swiftscion]

i want to see someone get shot 🥰 - team 10 iron round

Larcei tries to protest against Deirdre’s scolding--tries to put up her arms in defense and come up with some reason or another to justify her suspicions. Isolation leads to suspicion, she would have said, or She was holding a strange magical artifact! But as though this dream wishes to put their feud aside, the arena shifts. Rustic bars, dusted floors, and simple wooden seats all vanish without a trace. The smell of blood and sweat in the air is gone, giving way to something more sterile. The playing field widens. Metal plating covers the ground they walk on, streaks of blue energy coursing through the floor. For lack of a wall and iron gate, a similarly colored bubble surrounds them. It seems to hum with life, appearing translucent but definitely solid. It is a force field, meant to keep their fight contained. On the other side of this field remains their audience, though their accommodations have been upgraded. Their seats of matte-black chrome are padded using some soft and alien material, and they hover in the air, so that everyone can have their perfect view. It is a setting totally unknown to little Larcei--far beyond even the scope of her imagination. 

And when she looks at her hands, expecting some powerful weapon of a similar era, she finds nothing. Not even the tingle of magic at her fingertips, not even the flow of mana in her veins. “GUESS I DON’T HAVE A WEAPON,” she tries to mutter to herself, but speaking below a shout has been made an impossibility. Her voice, regardless of how much she tries to control it, rings at a deafening volume--each word pounding against the eardrums of all unfortunate enough to hear. But strangely enough, she doesn’t seem to notice. 

“BUT I’LL BE DAMNED IF WE LOSE BECAUSE OF THAT! YOU!” and again, she points to Lucina, “ENOUGH STANDING AROUND! IF YOU’RE REALLY ONE OF US, THEN YOU’LL FIGHT TO GET OUT OF THIS PLACE! ATTACK THE ENEMY; GIVE THEM EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT!”

Larcei uses Rally with her Booming Voice! Lucina receives +6 speed and +3 luck for one round!

The enemy in question is not so easily felled, however. One, evidently the leader, towers over our heroes with limbs of great mechanical might. Its entire body is cased in metal armor, but the sheen around that seems to provide even more protection. It, too, is of the sky-blue color seen on the floors and walls around them. Each of its shoulders holds a missile rack, and strapped front-and-center is an intimidating gatling gun. Of course, this technology is foreign to Larcei, but she isn’t the kind to be willing to mess around and find out with strange devices. Especially when those devices are pointed at her. 

Three nodes surround it, each a futuristic pod of robotic material and circuitry. At their cores is a similar blue light, and evidently, they are connected to the main body. After taking a look at them, Larcei doubts even Lucina could hold her own. She turns to another ally.

“YOU TOO, LADY DEIRDRE! YOU TRUST HER, RIGHT? THEN BACK HER UP IN BATTLE!”

Larcei uses Ruse with her Booming Voice! Deirdre receives +3 speed and +1 luck for one round!

UP NEXT: @exclted @allegreta

[artificidel]

when the day met the night ☀☾ team 10

@exclted @swiftscion @nagaficat @allegreta

Ephidel found that in the nightly hours, when he stalked the night sleepless and the humans laid their bodies and minds to rest, his seemed to drift just the same. It happened slowly. The digits of his body began to respond less. Then the limbs. Then the rest. Until his mind seemed to rise above his frame and warp from it.

Until golden eyes opened to a coliseum of people demanding entertainment. Ephidel glanced around himself; saw others from the monastery with strange weapons in all their hands. What was all this? Were they to play fools for these vermin’s approval? He would not dance this waltz for such a reason, and idly inspected the needle and syringe he found in his grasp. And there, clasped around one finger, he had also been adored with a ring.

This all made little sense, and before he could ponder it further, a large stone door opened on the far wall of the coliseum, and out flew a phoenix shimmering in a rainbow of light. It stretched its wings and cried a mighty shriek before diving headlong at the lot of them.

Violence, was not the first tool in Ephidel’s arsenal, but he knew how to wield all manner of magic and blade, and he wasted no time in using what he had been gifted.

He tucked and rolled out of the way of incoming talons, and readied a stance for the next opening. When the bird swooped in again, he leaped to its back and drove the needle deep. It seemed to have no effect, the bird’s hide thick and battle worn, and so Ephidel broke the needle at the base, sending metal shards deeper into its flesh. The beast howled. It did not seem to take any damage, but an opening had been made.

Ephidel used Slatterslash with the Injector! Roll 1d20+2! 14+2=16! Hit! -0HP

Twin Soul 10/10 HP

Twin Soul receives -1 DEF/RES for 1 turn

The great beast had just as little patience for Ephidel as he had for it, and turned to peak at the flea on its back. A direct hit to his shoulder weakened the strings in his arm, and Ephidel’s grasp released, sending him plummeting to the ground.

Twin Soul countered with Sharp Beak! Roll 1d20! 8! Hit! -1.5HP

Ephidel’s HP 8.5/10

[higaneion]

hip-hop

Mission task: Your (their) child fawns over all things cute and fluffy and is absolutely obsessed with rabbits. A live one may be a better gift than one that’s stuffed... Just as the thought occurs to you, you might just suddenly recall a field near the quarry that’s always teeming with rabbits. Figuring out their favorite foods should be enough for you to catch one. Sometimes it pays to be in the dream world! 2d2 Herbs per post.

IF COUNTING SHEEP LULLED CHILDREN TO SLEEP, THEN WHAT WOULD COUNTING RABBITS GRANT THEM? There was no special occasion, she doesn’t think so anyway, but call it an act of good will to find a pet rabbit to keep the child company while their guardian was out fighting, uncertain when they may return. ( That sounded familiar. ) So perhaps that was part of the reason she found sympathy and extra kindness in her heart.

          And who could say no to the big pleading eyes? So, she along with Lucina travel to one of the fields filled with knee-high unkempt grass and most importantly rabbits of all different sizes, shapes, and colors. Perhaps they should get one for the child and one for the house, or just to have as a friend. 

          Lilina crouches down and one particularly floppy eared one comes to sniff at her boots, but when she sticks her hand to pet it, it hops away just as fast. Of course, there were a couple taking a nap in the sun, but it would almost be too easy and too cruel to snatch one of those up...

          Standing back up, she looks to her partner. “Did you bring any food? For the rabbits,” she muses, looking in the vague direction of the village, “Maybe we could get some carrots from one of the stands too...”

@exclted

[sacaeblade]

@exclted asked:

[ Dip ] - How she ended up caught in the ebb and flow of a dance floor, Lucina will never know.

How she ended up recognizing the newest partner spun into her arms, however, is something of a different matter.

Brows raise, feet determined not to stutter in their rhythm. It'd be nothing short of awkward on a normal basis, to have to waltz with a woman who knows your name to be synonymous with traitor, but the routine has reached perhaps the worst point possible for this encounter.

"Lyn," Lucina's gaze is apologetic, cheeks warm, "I... apologize for this."

What had happened truly wasn't Lucina's fault; just a byproduct of the roles assigned to them by the book. Both in the final battle and in the real world, they were allies even if they had gotten off on the wrong foot. This does not make their relationship any less awkward, much less as they circle each other on the dance floor.

Even their marks are opposed, the unyielding rigidity of earth fighting against the fluidity of water when their hands brush as they enter closed position.

The Exalt dips her, hands supporting her back, and Lyn's breath catches in her throat. She had danced with Florina and Ninian a few times before during moments of levity, but she was easily taller and stronger than both girls. She would've been the one to dip them, not the other way. That another girl could hold her up like this makes her face heat up more than being dipped by any man would.

Suspended above the floor, there's little she can do but look at Lucina's face.Eyes the color of the sky above the plains on a clear day meet eyes the color of windswept grass. Up close, she can see that one eye is a slightly color than the other, ringed silver.

She has quite the handsome face, Lyn notes absentmindedly.

They can't stare at each other forever, though, especially not when the music starts to fade out into a different song. Lyn disentangles herself from Lucina, cheeks still slightly flushed.

"I-it's fine," she waves off the other girl's apology. "It's just part of the dance, right? Nothing you need to apologize for."

[nagaficat]

Brendan Urie is Sick of I Write Sins Not Tragedies: Team 10 Gold Round

Naga must pity her, Deirdre thinks as she awakens and finds herself in a beautiful cathedral decorated in white roses as if for an extravagant wedding. She has been killed twice now at the hands of someone she cherishes. And twice now, she has woken up injured but otherwise alive.

Her dark robes have been replaced by pure white and glowing, golden light encircles her head. She does not know that this is how she is imagined after her death in Jugdral as well. She does not know she is revered as a saint in Verdane.

She does recognize the bird-like beast that crashes through the large stained glass window poised to fight. It is similar to the first enemy they were forced to fight. The others must recognize it as well as they are able to act quickly enough to prevent it from acting first.

"This must be it!" Deirdre raises her arms, palms up, and wills every ounce of magic in her blood to answer to her bidding. It will not be enough to simply focus on one of her friends. She must save them all. "If we can win this fight, this nightmare is sure to end!"

Deirdre 5/10 HP heals +1 HP with Bond! Deirdre 6/10 HP

Deirdre 6/10 HP heals the party with Fortify! Roll 1d20 = 15, +8 HP; Ephidel 9.5/10 HP, Larcei 10/10 HP, Leanne 10/10 HP, Lucina 10/10 HP

It could have been such a happy dream, she thinks as her healing magic finds each member of her party. To see Larcei standing at the altar fills her with as much happiness as seeing one of her own children in the same situation would.

@swiftscion @artificidel @exclted @allegreta

[carefreemonk]

False Prophecies //☆team 12 ▪︎ silver☆

Oh, this is simply godsawful.

The Prophet, this strange world whispers to him. Azama is not sure how he knows their opponent's title, but he knows, somehow--

and it pisses him off.

That's his title, damn it! He worked hard to get it! Just because he happened to earn it in a small mountainside town in the middle of nowhere full of hicks, suckers one and all, doesn't mean it doesn't count!

He's started a religion, for fuck's sake. What has this 'Prophet' done? Huh??

Actually, screw that. Capitalization privileges revoked. The prophet. Hah!

Anyway, might be worth noting that Azama himself is still in sorry shape. With a roll of his eyes, he waves his familiar staff, newly returned to him. Oh, he knows this energy well, yes...

Azama uses Fortify! 1d20: 8. +2 HP (+2 whm heal+, +another 2 white tomefaire which are irrelevant rn) - Forsyth: 10/10, Lucina: 10/10, Reyson: 10/10.

Live to Serve: Azama heals self by 1.5HP. 4 -> 5.5/10.

He's using it more for himself than for them right now, but they don't need to know that. With a huff, he waves them along.

"Go on then. Do your stabby thing or whatever. This figment deserves to be erased from existence - trust me."

After all, there can only be one.

[lionsword]

Like Our Fathers Before Us [Lucina & Roy]

Starter for @exclted

There’s been word of crumbling ruins, remnants of an old town and its gravesite becoming overgrown with strange greenery. Beautiful though its blooms may be, superstition and old maid’s tales have painted it as a beautifully haunting omen for a disaster to come. To that effect, the neighboring villages are too afraid to venture and clear it up, avoiding any and all routes that might cross it, and so have pleaded for aid from every passerby willing to help. As you enter the mouth of the ruins to dispel their needless fears, however, you find that these are no mere ruins. The vines close the entryway from which you came, and, looking ahead, you find that the ruins are, in fact, a huge maze. To make matters worse, the vines that now prevent you from leaving don’t seem to be content to stop there. All around you, the labyrinth shifts and changes; the walls move, the plants snake and snap. You and your companion must hack and cut your way through and find a way out, lest you intend to bury yourselves in a grave that never needs to beg for flowers. [Grants Sword +1]

“Thank you for coming with me on this assignment.” Roy was still getting to know his other Blue Lions. She was faculty on to of that, and the way she carried herself reminded Roy of so many other warriors he’d met. Manners were a must. It was simple to the both of them, it seemed. They were given a task for the common people, and they did it. Second nature.

Roy paced the ruins of the graveyard, eyes on the overgrown vines and mosses around them. For some reason, the Binding Blade felt hot at his side, as though it was reacting to the place. He turned to Lucina, concerned before anything stirred. “I don’t like this place. Not to believe in ghost stories, but I’d suggest being on the ready.”

He drew his sword and it was like the cemetery reacted in response.

No vine was idle. All at once, the landscape itself seemed to surge at them, shifting and writhing around, sealing off the exit behind them and crafting a new forest in front of their very eyes. The Binding Blade glinted in the sunshine and the edge burst into flame as he swung it at the vines. The plant matter hissed upon impact, sizzling and disintegrating against the fire.

“Lucina, are you alright?”

No matter what, he’d fight his hardest for the villagers, for Lucina, for the ability to come back home and fight again.