#heartoftheloathsome

[hresvelged]

last surprise

Duke Maxifeld has received a letter detailing the planned heist of his family’s priceless heirloom - a weapon said to take on many an alternate form - during his upcoming annual ball. The Knights of Seiros have assigned you and your partner to attend undercover and find the wannabe thief before they act. The event is strictly for couples only. Better make your act convincing! [Grants Any Weapon +1]

‘If you were to attend, no doubt would the thief stop in their tracks!’ She cannot see the knight’s expression under such guarded armor, but Edelgard can certainly hear it through a simple tone of voice. It is frantic, almost-- A clear attempt to get her to understand how seriously the Duke is taking this. Ideally, she would have preferred seeing this supposed letter with her own eyes-- To simply take word of mouth from a Knight of Seiros is not one she is inclined to do. The way it is described to the house leader is left vague with information amiss.

A ball, she’s then told. What an interesting time for such a thing in a space filled with masses. While she holds no issues with attending, it appears this particular one has prerequisites she must meet. Nonetheless, she agrees. Of course, the Imperial Princess is hardly about to attend this event with just anyone. There are very few people she trusts in this world littered with falsities and shortcomings.

It’s easy for Edelgard to find Hubert as she holds a folded note in her gloved hands. “Hubert. There’s something I must tell you,” she begins. “I’ve received word from one of the knights about an upcoming heist. A weapon, it seems. It was detailed in writing. Honestly, I find displaying that in letter a rather poor attempt.” To do so is asking for interception, but she digresses.

Bringing her free hand to her chin in ponderance, Edelgard goes on: “I’m rather interested in the form of this heirloom, given how frantic the knight appeared. However, I’ve been told we must attend an approaching ball in order to intercept.” She pauses, unfolding the paper with the ball’s details atop it. “I need a partner for this task-- The ball demands it. I trust none other than you to accompany me.”

@heartoftheloathsome​

[lalamines]

entwined

Friendship bracelets are making a resurgence, but this time, lance wielders are tying them to the shafts of their weapons to show off their popularity. Join the cool kids and decorate your lance with some sick new threads. [Grants Lance +1]

She sits, cross legged, at a table in the reception hall. Alone. Her body was still battered and bruised from last month’s ‘mission’ but physical wounds healed far easier than emotional ones. Rhedrise had burned itself in her vision - the chaos, stench of blood and screaming still rang in her ears. Then there was Melanthios and the dread he struck in her heart...

Mercedes had to tell herself it wasn’t real. Focus her attentions on something physical, constant and light. So she weaves colourful threads around one another, the sixth one now. She isn’t sure who to give them to once she’s finished.

He walks past. A familiar figure, stirring up an old ache anew. An image in her mind of a young girl, ashen blonde hair gathered into a french braid. The child’s hands guide another, smaller pair. Violet eyes beg her for aid, to help untangle the mess of embroidery floss the youngest had entangled herself in. Another child drifts to sleep and green eyes watch her every move from afar. Cautious and challenging.

What a lonely little memory. One to bury deeper this time, so it’s jagged edges cannot catch against delicate hands ever again.

“Care to join me, Hubert? For old times’ sake.”

She isn’t sure why she bother’s asking. Expects a rejection, from the man who even at eight years old had better things to do with his time than something so frivolous. Mercedes supposes it’s the company she seeks. Her own thoughts alone are haunting but she finds herself avoiding the warmth of her friends. They treat her like porcelain, which serves only to remind her that something is very wrong. Something about her has changed, perhaps irrevocably. She certainly feels broken and tarnished.

“Please?”

@heartoftheloathsome

[heavenlyknight]

blanket to a knife fight ༊*·˚

The Academy is always hard at work inventing new and extraordinary methods of helping its pupils find their true potential. One day, an announcement appears on the board, inviting all those interested in discovering something new about themselves to Lieutenant Lanton’s Loose Lottery. The idea is simple: Lieutenant Lanton hands you a weapon and puts you in front of another participant for you to spar with. The catch? You receive the first item he happened to grab and have to work with it, no matter what it is. No second chances! [Grants Any Skill +1]

@heartoftheloathsome !!

It’s just a second nature, to drift towards where the crowd is thickest and get a glimpse at exactly why. Erinys cranes her head now, peering past others now to do exactly that. She hadn’t seen the announcement, only the flock of people.

So imagine her surprise when the man at the center of it all points directly at her.

“You!” His voice booms in the kind of way you would expect from someone accustomed to barking orders. Pegasus knight straightens, eyes darting left and right, confirming that the call had in fact been directed at her. “Looks like we’ve found our next contestant! Come forth!”

Another moment of hesitation, brows furrowed in confusion, but there are too many gazes on her now to allow a quick escape. Erinys sighs and steps forward, shouldering through the crowd and into the little clearing.

“Excuse me, but.. what exactly am I-”

“Here you are, m’lady! Your weapon for today’s duel is...!”

A fishing rod that looks one slightly-above-average carp away from snapping clean in two is thrust into her arms. Erinys blinks, startled, eyes flickering between the man and her new “weapon.” 

It’s kind of like a lance... almost? 

“Now, for our verdant knight’s opponent!” Question left completely unanswered, the announcer turns back towards the crowd. He brings his hand to his chin as though thinking, silent for a moment before extending his arm once more and pointing his finger through the center of the crowd. 

“YOU!!”

[amnesiac-pawn]

In Ruins (Morgan-Hubert)

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] 

Fingers shake around the hilt of a zig-zag blade, a weapon more for intimidation and to be used from afar than to cut through enemies ahead. The vines that trapped them reacted as just: sharpened though the Levin may be, the plants laughed at his attempts to shirk them away. Every strike, every stroke, was an act of pure force and control; sweat beads at his brow. His sigh is shuddering.

It was too alike the forest he escaped from only days before. At every corner, Morgan expected to see a beast of rot and ruin, mire dripping from maw and death at its claws. A fox spirit’s laugh echoes in his ear, but his only companion was the shadow at his heel.

“We’ve been here,” he breaks the accustomed silence. “I marked this—see the singes?” The blackened edges were fresh, only fifteen minutes old from when Morgan had sizzled the vines between his fingers. The maze could shift, but for now, seemed to be giving the duo a break.

“If we go left, we’ll circle around again.” Levin sword points right, where Morgan takes the lead. “Let’s try this way.”

He finds comfort in Hubert’s presence. It’s a quiet reassurance: he wasn’t alone, and there were no spirits whispering in his mind now to goad him into tragedy. Hubert would act as an anchor whether the Eagle realized it or not.

“What do you suspect is at the end of this thing?” he asks, knowing they both had an inkling of something grave. Perhaps their own.

@heartoftheloathsome