#lilyfonded

[thyrosus]

exit, pursued by dancers - & team purple

“THIS WAY.”

Time is a luxury neither of them can afford. The splintering of their party is an efficient choice, no matter how hastily made in the moment. Flayn is good company, and in better times they’d surely find the stroll a pleasant one. For now, however, they are locked at a brisk pace, footfalls over the bridge as Lorenz elects to take the lead for them.

It seems only right. For the future of the Alliance, he walks with purpose, at the ready to meet resistance and best those who stand against them.

(Lorenz is truly unsurprised that, when faced with the possibility of capture, Pendrell elected to flee. All his bluster and posturing about the importance of his work, and he cannot even be bothered to stand as any less of a coward than the man they both so thoroughly dressed down in discussion. A shame, really. Under different circumstances—one that didn’t see Lorenz and Flayn running across half of Derdriu—he might even be inclined to admire the man’s brain.)

Roll: 2!
 L12 —> N12!

“I would tread carefully! We know the man had access to a tunnel—of all things!—underneath his abode. If there is one, I would not be surprised if it is one of many.”

↳ @lilyfonded.

[amitieos]

chained up

A sharp bump in the road jolts you awake from your slumber–immediately, you can tell that something isn’t right. When you fell asleep, it was on solid ground, under white tents of the Church of Seiros. But now you find yourself sitting in some kind of wooden cage, rocking back and forth as you travel on an ill-maintained road. You hear horses nickering, people speaking in a strange language, the steady creaking of wheels beneath the floor… and the rattling of the chains that bind your feet to the person next to you, a fellow abductee. If you want any chance of escaping from here, you better hope it’s someone you like! [ Grants Any Skill +1]

A low groan creaks past Elincia’s lips as her eyes flutter open. Her mouth is bone dry and her head still drowsy, swimming through a painted dreamland. There’s something strange about this situation, Elincia thinks to herself as she tries to sit upright, feeling disorientated. This... this isn’t the tent she’d fallen asleep in. Her breath hitches as she notices the chains around her feet and icy panic floods her veins. She’s caged again - just like she had been during that incident in Leicester. Shaking off slumber’s grasp, Elincia instinctively pulls against her binds in a futile attempt to free herself. The rattling of the chains bring her attention to another.

Sea foam green curls and a petite form. Wearing the same uniform as she herself wore. WAs this better or worse than being alone?

“Flayn?” Elincia whispers to the other who does not yet stir awake. Extending a hand and gently placing it on the young lady’s shoulder, she gives her a slight shake. Then another, slightly stronger. “Flayn? Are you alright?” Aside from their obvious predicament, of course.

Her shoulders slump as she lets out a relieved sigh when pale green eyes open. They meet with her own, sepia irises. Good, she’s awake at least. Elincia can’t quite bring herself to smile at a time like this but she hopes her expression is at least a little reassuring.

“Do you know how we got here? I remember falling asleep in our tents, did something happen?”

@lilyfonded​

[aurheatum]

a sweet strategy

As the Officer’s Academy opened up to the continents so too did the need for more inclusive holidays. Rhea has been in particular taken with that of Askr’s Harvest Festival as its tenants of gratitude and respect toward nature mesh so well with the beliefs of the Seiros religion, Almyra, and beyond. She has begun to list the many festivities associated with it including the use of elaborate costumes and simulated pilgrimages for sweets.

It is said to be a time of looking back upon cherished memories and looking forward to the future with loved ones and so she can think of no better people to accompany on the journey than Flayn and Seteth.

She had surreptitiously (with some help form Cyril) left Flayn a note after her most recent class asking for her presence in aid of preparing festivities. It was not often she and Flayn met alone – for the girl’s sake, really, but she felt as Seteth was always around somewhere it made the most sense to meet with her first.

A small smiles comes to life on Rhea’s face when she sees Flayn step into her audience chamber. “Greetings,” she says, loud enough for the other attendants milling about to hear, “thank you for coming. I feel it is always useful to gain a student’s perspective on things like festival preparations.”

Her staff would have little reason to question Flayn’s presence with a reason like that out in the open, and so satisfied Rhea leads her over to the prep room next to her audience chamber to speak further of matters.

“The culture in Askr seems quite striking, does it not? I am unsure if you have had leave to communicate with your classmates such as Kiran but I have been struck by the bonds they have formed with the prince and princess and each’s retinue. Additionally, I thought something like dressing up for the Harvest Festival might add a much needed bit of levity to student life.

Of course, there would need to be guidelines, and Rhea had even begun on those though that was more Seteth’s purview. Next to her stack of notes was a basket of sweet things containing candied apples, dried fruit, and other confections. Seeing it, Rhea breaks into a grin and whispers (you never know who might walk in): “by the by, do you have any idea if your brother has a sweet tooth and if he does for what in particular? I have never found leave to ask him.”

>@lilyfonded

[duskroine]

reach for the stars

Mission Task Board: Some of the upperclassmen were fooling around and seeing how high they could throw their lances and get them stuck in the wall of the training hall, but now they’re too high to get down. Your best course of action is to throw even more lances up at them in an attempt to knock them loose. Just don’t let them hit you on the way down. [ Grants Lance +1 ]

     “This... This is... OH, THE HORROR!!”

     Ophelia’s cry causes a few--if not many--gazes to fall on her and her companion. One gloved hand raises to her forehead and, with the other, she dramatically fans herself. Save her skin from flushing as a effect of the oh so terrible sight before them. 

     It’s ridiculous, of course. The way that she’s reacting to this. Except, there’s sincerity in her tone, no matter how high-pitched and how terribly dramatic. Although her mastery in weaponry isn’t in the art of lances, there’s still respect that she should give to those specific items of equipment. It would be the very same if someone had been tearing pages out of tomes and plastering them on the wall for all to see.

     The heroine fakes a sob and grabs Flayn’s arm, her other hand hovering over her lips to make her expression of disbelief pop out. There is much effort to be made in theatrics! Besides, if she performed any lesser, then their audience wouldn’t react how she wanted them to; the remaining students in the training hall soon retreat outside and away from the two girls. Ophelia waits a moment and only speaks when their third companion is nothing but silence.

     “Finally,” she releases Flayn’s arm and turns to face her friend, “I feared that they would never leave! Anyway, we have much work to do. In order to curse those upperclassmen for their disrespectful acts, then we’ll need to be away from other people!” and, of course, Ophelia has the wrong idea but surely, this couldn’t be the worst way to solve the issue.

     From the depths of her inside cloak pockets, a small notebook is pulled out alongside two rocks. Ophelia smiles a lopsided, lazy kind before holding the stones out for Flayn to take.

     “We shall be guided by the Purelake Lypicrystal and its bond with the Starlittle twin crystal in hopes to find which fools have done this, but first--” a quick gesture to the wall before them, “--we should try to solve this first!”

@lilyfonded

[macawbre]

{ corpse flower || Flayn & Henry

Sometimes, when flowers were about to die, they'd croon a little song and slumber when their time was up. It's not like it was sad, the permanence of it all. But it was something he'd notice when walking by the groves and finely tuned gardens right when the evening struck and the sun caught the horizon ablaze. He was a reaper of sorts, for flowers that were gone, after they sung their last tune and their souls no longer whispered into the void— he'd arrive silently by the heels of the night and pick them while they were still fresh. 

Henry knew of their final wishes long before they asked, because it was simple to frame a flower but it was simpler to know that a flower wished to be framed. Or to be beautiful. Or to be happy.

Anyway, enough of that. He was picking flowers right at sunset like an frivolous looking foreign man with nothing more to do but to terrorize Rhea's gardens. And he had invited little Miss Flayn to assist him, since his crows were busy, ahaha! "Aren't they pretty? I was thinking of putting them up to dry in bouquets, then showing them off at the next Reason lecture I make."

"You don't mind helping me do you? They're already dead anyway~ Might as well~"

@lilyfonded 

[hezulion]

south ocean blues

A fishing expedition off the coast of Brigid offered the perfect chance to get away from the Academy and relax a little… Enjoy the sea breeze and take in the sun… If it weren’t for the crest beast circling under the fishing vessel. The crew is skilled, but an extra pair of hands never hurt; you load the harpoon. [Grants Lance +1]

Ares regretted everything that led him to this point. Well, almost everything.

Flayn’s smile was brighter than jewels so things aren’t all terrible. Just most things, optimism!. He groaned, leaning his head back only to be assaulted by the sun’s cruel rays. For over a fortnight he’d been losing sleep, strange visions of lights plaguing his dreams He had thought a fishing trip off the coast of the island nation of Brigid would cure him of his ails. It... hadn’t cured a thing.

He also remembered how terribly seasick he was. His stomach lurched with the waves, churning uncomfortably and he clutched his painful, swollen abdomen. Why had he done this to himself?

The pair floated in the fishing boat quietly for a while. Ares didn’t speak and Flayn, despite her usual chattiness, seemed to notice how he was struggling not lose his breakfast and had graciously allowed him to suffer in silence. Occasionally she’d squeal with joy and hold up a fine specimen to show him. He’d give her a thumbs up before going back to hating his life.

Until the boat rocked a little too violently. Both students and crew were nearly flung into the briny depths of the ocean that surrounded them. Gods, Ares didn’t even know how to swim. On shaking legs, he crossed over to the crew who seemed to be loading the harpoon.

“A crest beast!? Out here?” his question didn’t really require an answer. Looking over the boats edge he could see the damned thing. He really couldn’t catch a break.

@lilyfonded

[disgracedvessel]

An Expert’s Eye

H.E.A.R.T starter for @lilyfonded

The monastery is bustling - students and faculty alike on a hunt to keep their grades and their pay. On one hand, it has been many years since Julius last enjoyed the lively thrum of a thriving marketplace, or the leisure of a party unworried by the threat of war. While the assignment tasked to the students of the Officers Academy is hardly as extravagant, noble, or noteworthy as the events the former prince of Grannvale is used to, there is still something intoxicating about the energy. Contagious, even. He peruses the street with an unhurried step and, for once, does not feel the usual pressure to make his presence known - the deep-rooted fear of disappearing into oblivion instead replaced by a cautious eye on those he recognizes from his homeland. Specifically, he hopes to hide from his parents, but not at the expense of the day’s excitement.

He stops when he notices a gathering in the courtyard, students - with some faculty - mingling around a long table spread with various glasses and bottles. Some are in quiet conversation among groups of two or three, others are not so quiet or composed, and as the wind shifts, Julius catches the tangy scent of grapes from a newly-spilled glass. Curiosity draws him in, but what he can tell from the back of the gathering is only that there is - or had been - a demonstration of sorts. He turns to a student at his side, a girl with hair in pale green ringlets, and eyes the glass she holds.

“Might I ask how you got that?” He points to it. “I wasn’t aware that there would be any sort of drink tasting event this afternoon.”

[ashenprofessor]

Monachopsis: The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place.

Byleth couldn't say she'd ever felt that she'd been in place.

Some of her earliest memories were of arriving in a new town whilst her father was on a job and trying to join in playing with the local children. The tales of children being more receptive of strangers than adults was a myth in her case. At best they simply ignored her, other times she'd run and hid with Jeralt.

It didn't take long for her to become use to being the odd one out. Her nomadic lifestyle and strange mannerisms didn't exactly help integrate her into society. Once old enough, Byleth had gone to her father to ask to learn the way of the sword. If she was going to stick out, it would be better to be able to defend herself. Though on the fringes of the mercenary group she felt more at home there.

Coming to the Monastery, Byleth was finally beginning to feel like she fitted in somewhere. The feeling of being out of place fading into the background as she focussed on training her students and surviving the missions. Long may it continue.