#hycanitho

[elusivia]

Act *Natural* [Clair & Zelkov]

+1 Any starter for @hycanitho

One day, you find yourself waking up thoroughly sore, scraping yourself off the floor of a Monastery classroom. As you strain to remember how you wound up there, you catch sight of your hand – except it’s not yours. Nor are the clothes you now wear, or the body beneath them. Your actual self is standing opposite you, staring back in shock and… covered in dust? Before things spiral further, the professor attempts to quell the growing chorus of unrest with an explanation, which also serves to jog your memory. This was supposed to be a seminar showcasing the magical properties of a magic tool from Tellius known as Warp Powder. Unfortunately, its volatile nature lends itself to many potential side-effects if mishandled… one of which is ripping people’s souls out and depositing them into the nearest acceptable vessel. The unbothered professor assures everyone that this “minor inconvenience” will wear off on its own eventually, and that the Monastery will still be expecting the completion of your usual assignments and duties in the meantime. [Grants Any Weapon +1]

He propped himself up on his hand, groaning as he sat up on the floor. It seemed... no, he'd close and open his eyes again, just to be sure. It couldn't be-

Blonde.

"How *peculiar*."

His voice wasn't right either. It was higher, and somehow it sounded dainty, as if he was a noble lady. He fully jolted awake, taking in his light colored pegasus knight uniform complete with a certain weight on his head. After patting his arms and legs, clumsy as he got used to them, making sure he at least had every limb accounted for even if this person was short, he reached up to feel the knight's helm and accidentally knocked it against his head, groaning.

If Zelkov was in someone else's body, then his own must be around. Standing up and brushing dust off himself, hoping the instructor's reassurance that this was all temporary was correct, he found himself lying a few meters away on the ground.

"By the *Divine* One," he said, standing over his true form with his arms folded, concern on his face. Though on accident, he wasn't doing too bad of an impression of the original one. "I look terrible. Exhausted."

He reached out a hand to himself, hoping they were in each other's bodies and hadn't involved a third person in the mishap.

"I am *Zelkov*," he said dramatically. "I am sorry to be *borrowing* what I presume is you, for the moment."

[15shadesofgray]

so far, we are

💫starter for @hycanitho

     Gray has seen Clair throughout the duration of the ball multiple times. He never dared go near-- not yet, he’s far from ready. What face is he going to show someone who was never sure of him? He was asked to wait for her return. The fool in him believed it will all work out in the end, so long as he committed to his end of the bargain. Train hard, make a name himself, prove he was more than just empty words... he could do all that as he commits to knighthood for the One Kingdom of Valentia. When she comes back home, he was sure he’ll finally be able to prove the love he so prematurely proclaimed.

     All that changed when he arrived in Fodlan. Garreg Mach was full of beauties beyond compare, but it wasn’t just the women who were amazing, so were the men. One too many nobles from all over were here for connections, education, and perhaps something more. He’d be a fool not to acknowledge competition. Alm was already a difficult benchmark to reach, but at least he was taken. His heart was given long ago and has remained with her since. No matter how many fell for Mr. Saint-King, it didn’t matter. He’d never look at them. Too bad he can’t say the same for all these fancy bozos around. These were people with the potential to rule and do so much more than just a meager knight. People who had the privilege to get to know her throughout her stay in the monastery. And Gray knew what that could potentially mean. Now he’s wondering if he’s still allowed to wait. He hasn’t asked. He should ask. He didn’t like his odds but he still wanted to know where his place was.

     He can’t count the amount of times he pulled on the miniscule amount of strands dangling on his forehead as he walked back and forth, resolve waning as soon as it materialized. He was getting bummed for no reason, and its the sight of her dancing with someone else that zaps him back to his senses. 

     “Time’s up. Thank you, next.” Gray appeared as the dance initiated a switch in partners, immediately putting himself in between Clair’s new partner. The Valentian gives the warmest of smiles to the man he cuts off, not even waiting for a reply before stealing his spot, claiming the hand of one he doesn’t deserve yet. He tunes out the noise from everything else, eyes set on the whirlpools that snatched his heart for a love he believes to be true. 

     “Heya, Clair.” His cape sways along to his sudden movements. He feels overdressed and underdressed at the same time. In the presence of physical perfection, nothing can ever be up to par. Thank Mila he wasn’t known for having low self-esteem. “Figured you were due for a change of scenery-- or a return to an old one. Change is refreshing but nothing beats home.” 

[verseandrhyme]

[letter arrives with accompanying owl feather]

To whoever receives this letter,

Concerning: ‘Campaign of Encouragement’

I hope you are are healthy and not too battered after recent adventures. Looking after yourself it important for maintaining team morale in any party. Maybe take some time to engage in your favourite hobby like fishing, gardening, riding or reading. Alternatively simply relaxing with the monastery cats is a viable option.

Of course, your studies and personal goals are important. Keep striving forward and setting your sights higher. I know you can do it and find a new path to tread. Remember there is always more to learn and practice yields results.

Yours faithfully

X

Mitama hums a quiet song to herself as she twirls the feather between her fingers. The note she receives is far longer than anticipated, admittedly. She had expected most to scrawl out simple notes of empty platitudes to fulfill their participation requirements.

She taps the tip of the feather against her lips as she walks, carefully tracing over the words and well wishes with a silent utterance.

Mitama is not truly familiar with the one she suspects responsible for the words, but she supposes that just saves her some level of shame in the end. Should she be wrong, she can move along as if nothing had happened. If she is right, well. Then she is right and she won!

Approaching the person at the dining hall, Mitama cleared her throat as she approached. “An apology / for interrupting your meal / a question follows.” Mitama held out the note so that it was legible to the young woman. “Is this your writing?”

@hycanitho

[minorindech]

♡ + shadow

Ask Meme {Accepting}

Shadows are scary.

A statement most have heard in their lifetime. One that even more grow out of as time passes and childhood is left behind. Shadows, after all, always have a source, and the shadows themselves are not that scary.

Bernie disagrees.

Shadows can hide so many things. Eyes that wait for you to speak out of turn. Monsters that become friends. Monsters that stay monsters. There is a world of possibility hidden in the shadows, and Bernadetta hovers ever on the edge of curiosity and terror.

Because shadows never occur on their own. Shadows are always the result of something else. Something that makes noise as it walks along the halls of her home, causing her to freeze in her task as she looks to her bedroom door.

Something that grows closer as Bernie’s blood runs colder, and makes her pray to the Goddess that it will keep walking.

Shadows signify something stopping outside her door, blocking out what little light had flooded the room from the hallway.

Shadows are warnings. Shadows are scary.

It will be years before she meets a shadow that makes her feel any kind of peace.

[theindigoflirt]

😅/ "oh by the mother, it's dreadfully warm in here, isn't it...?"

Fleeting Snow! 

He’d happily spend all his time frolicking around in the snow if there was no risk of catching a cold. And what better way to warm up than in the sauna?

Inigo reclines against the wall, eyes closed as the steam wafts across the little room. It’s a pleasant heat settling against his skin, fingers tingling as sensation returns. 

The sauna is empty save for a couple Knights lounging on the opposite bench. They whisper to themselves, probably about how annoying it is babysitting academy kids. Inigo happily ignores them-- 

Cracks an eye open as Clair settles next to him, prim as ever. Inigo smiles, brushing his damp bangs out of his face. “Hel-lo, Clair! I’ll take this over that dreadful swamp we were assigned any day.” 

The blush across his face is totally, one hundred percent because of the heat. Not at all because a pretty girl in a bath towel willingly talked to him. “Want to join me for hot chocolate after this, buttercup?” 

[ceaselessblade]

Fill-in Casul

🏰 Fill-in Casul

A personal invitation has been extended to Lord Acheron, fulfilling what rumors say is a political favor. You have the distinct honor of escorting him and his elderly aunt to the festivities. Remember to nod and smile. [grants Heavy Armor +1]

The slip saying to escort Lord Acheron. A whole list of dos and do nots. A sinking feeling in his gut.

That was what he was left with, by a rather harried soldier who left before he could call out for them. 

Actually, he's not even sure how he ended up here. He was looking to help out with moving the armors, for a little bit of extra allowance.

The problem, this time, lies in the fact that it's the first day he'd brought out his own garb to wear-- that's right, the plating that had been in his closet, just to see the reactions of others. Which is to say, none. Great! 

Up until it wasn't. Maybe it was something about the cape, or the fact that his armor was at least marginally ornate. Or that it was ‘escort the Thyrsus month’ and he was just unlucky. 

One thing led to another, and now he's stuck with the group clearly labelled for the Blue lions? Hey now... Just because he has a 'blue mane' for hair doesn't mean he belongs here, alright?

Either way, he's completely lost, to say the least. Someone yells at him to 'don the armor in twenty, oh good you're already halfway there', and Ike is left staring, wondering if he should simply just disappear while he can. 

It’s not like they’ve given any care to what he thought. Why should he give any thought to theirs? 

Then again, these ARE supposed to be Blue Lion quarters. Soren isn’t here, but he wouldn’t pass up the chance to explore the place. This is also Marth’s house, and he won’t lie that he’s a little intrigued...

Occupied by this internal dilemma, he doesn't notice the sound of approaching footsteps.

[ostianshadow]

“erm…salutations…”

clair shifts on her feet, all the bravado she had displayed during their match gone with the haughty arrogance with which she had addressed him – but, really, what do you say to someone you knocked out cold?

“i truly hope you are alright after – ah – the whole…lance-bat debacle.” she winces at the concession. the spirit of competition had possessed her a bit too strongly, it seems. “but, i must apologize. truly, i do not know what came over me! oh, i hope you won’t think any less of me – what an awful first impression to make, is it not?”

holding out a hand, she tries for a smile. “i am clair – miss clair or lady clair will do just fine as well. may i get the gentleman’s name?”

“Hm?”

Matthew lifts his head and to his surprise meets the eyes of his assailant. It’s her. The woman who’d cleaned his clock somethin’ good out there on the battlefield. If she’s here now, though, while the last of the fight continues outside... They’ve both lost, then.

Something about her expression right off the bat (...hah) smothers any ire he might’ve dwelt upon following his defeat. Really, it wouldn’t do to come across a sore loser... and clearly the whole affair had meant a great deal more to her than to him. She seems genuine in her approach. Perhaps, he considers internally, his earlier appraisal of her when speaking with Cordelia, albeit half joking, needs an adjustment.

It would be the gentlemanly thing to do.

“I’m all right, thanks,” he assures with his best cordial smile as he shifts to take her proffered hand. “The name’s Matthew. And please, no need for apology, m’lady,” though he’ll take it nonetheless, “t’was the nature of the game, aye? And the healers here, to their credit, are quite good at what they do. I’m assured the ol’ noggin’,” he taps lightly at his temple, “will be good as new in short order.”

And thank his lucky stars for that.

He shifts again, offering a sheepish - albeit bordering on roguish - grin. “I’d pass along my own apologies: this ‘gentleman’ you speak of isn’t much of one at all. Lest you forget, I tried to get the drop on you back there.” He winks. “And the only part I regret is getting tripped up.”

He could play at formality when the job called for it, but here and now, suffering still a mild ache in his head, and faced with such a candid lass... Honesty seems the best approach. He gives a teasing smile.

“In any case, Miss Clair, you have one hell of an arm. Whatever you’re doing back at the academy, keep at it.”

[atypicalsenerio]

♡ + goddess

Radiant Dawn spoilers~

Soren has meet a goddess face to face, but he still is not a man of faith (faith, after all, would exist without such an experience anyway). Soren doesn’t have anything against priests or others who follow religion, but he talks about luck and fortune more than anything else. Religious and personal beliefs are simply another motive to consider for him when deciphering someone’s actions.

He doesn’t think it likely he’d ever convert. After all, the idea that someone Branded is a mistake in the goddess (Ashera’s) eyes and that the laguz parent is then punished for such a mistake puts him off even further.

It’s one more aspect of life he is an outsider to.