seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from Austria
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Yemen
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Yemen
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
"Thank you very much!"
Maria giggles as she hurries into the ballroom, her smile tucked against a bouquet of roses. What a wonderful day for flowers! Decorated in some made by a beloved friend, as well as many more blooming across her dress, just for tonight she feels she's exactly where she's supposed to be.
Oh, but where are her friends? Lowering the bouquet, a flash of silver glimmering at her wrist, the little princess sets off to find them.
maria (croaking) bernadetta peele me
ehy must we fight
yuri, as he often tends to, appears with little more than a call of her name in greeting. “maria!” a lazy wave of one hand, the other raising a paper bag. “got some time to spare? i brought cake.”
he may not have been a student at the academy for long, but there's still plenty of corners in the monastery that he'd made his own secret getaways in that time. west of the cathedral is the goddess tower that students flock to; yuri much prefers the peace and quiet of the monastery walls past the nearby gate, with nothing mountains and trees as far as the eye could see.
that gate, like many other things, is broken now, but it makes the task of getting past it much easier. “i used to sneak out here to clear my head when i was still a student,” he says as perches where the wall is still intact and sets the bag down next to him. lilacs flick to maria, head inclining for her to join him. “i was a blue lion then,” he continues idly, pulling out two boxes of cake from the bag, then a third, smaller jewelry box that he sets in his lap, “just like you.”
“if you come at sunset, everyone's busy at dinner and you get a good view. keep it a secret, yeah?” yuri raises a finger to his lips with a smile before extending the jewelry box toward her. inside is a silver bracelet, a little mockingbird charm hanging from it. the symbol might not scare off the monastery's invaders, but it'll shoo off a bandit or three that would rather not risk the wrath of the savage mockingbird. “happy birthday, maria.”
"Hee hee... of course!"
She follows him somewhere, anywhere really, past the long years now scattered in the grass and through the half fallen gate that once kept them. Up the makeshift steps he goes with the grace she knows him for, and Maria -- well, she clambers after. Hers is a different sort of grace, a floating sort, all clouds gusting over meadows and not so experienced in creeping up crumbling stone, yet no less delighted for the fact she stumbles in her journey.
"A Blue Lion?" She echoes curiously, once she's settled with a giggle and her giggles are all settled. It's strange; she hadn't expected Yuri to have been a Blue Lion, but then-- a Deer? No way! An Eagle? Well... maybe? At this height, the breeze pushes past her face, and she holds up a hand to brace against it, squinting at them between sun and wind, as if looking will make more sense.
In does, in a way. There is some quiet satisfaction she finds in some quiet answer, silence balanced by the blare of a toothy grin pulled cheek to cheek. A finger rises to her lips in playful mimicry, a smile halved yet a doubled joy.
"I promise!" Maria breathes her laughter and the awe that follows, opening the box by the smallest sliver she may and stealing a tiny glimpse, never mind the fact it was a gift freely offered. A flash of silver, a fluttering of lashes -- she dares to open the box further and gasps softly when she does.
For once, she doesn't rush headlong into her words, merely slipping her wrist through the loop, holding her hand up to the mellowing light. The charm turns warm under the sunset, and --
"Hee hee... heeheehee!" When she splays her fingers, an entire sky of warm colors greets her back. Rose-red eyes dart toward Yuri with the barest turn of her head.
"Yuri, did you know?" She laughs again. "You just gave me two presents instead!"
Pulling her hand to her face, she presses her cheek against her knuckles, bracelet and charm dangling from her wrist. Hardly the most elegant way to show off her new treasure, but any good gift pairs well with happiness and appreciation, and both of these the little princess has in spades.
"--Thank you, though." Her expression turns soft as she thinks of it, holding the bracelet gently to her heart. "This makes me really... really happy. I mean it! I'll wear it every day!"
The silver bird spreads its wings and Maria wonders if it means anything; has it stowed away any wishes in its heart? A bid for whimsy, or even freedom? Whatever it is, the little princess lets it keep them, and hers along with it. They will never know that she has never felt at ease at an empty table, silly as it may sound. There is no need to, for now the whole sunset holds the secret Yuri shared with her; now the whole sunset is her friend, and the youngest daughter of Macedon will never eat another lonely dinner again.
“for you, Maria—i do hope you’re not already full,” Ferdinand said with a glint of mischief behind his smile, presenting a small, ribbon-tied box nestled carefully in both his palms.
inside, arranged neatly and lovingly by hand, were homemade cookies—golden and just slightly crisped at the edges, still soft at their centers. each cookie was shaped like a different emblem of strength: a tiny sword, a lion, a shield, and one—his favorite—shaped like a heart, piped delicately with purple icing in the shape of a small sprig of lavender.
“I’ve been told these taste best after a hard-won battle,” he added, as if he hadn’t spent the night before fussing over the dough like a man determined to invent the culinary equivalent of bravery.
“they're for the kind of strength that doesn't always get applause,” Ferdinand said, voice softening. “like the strength to keep standing when others expect you to sit. or the strength to heal, even when others see only softness.”
he gave a slight, sheepish shrug—"and, well… they’re also quite good with tea.”
he added, a little firmer, “but don’t let anyone tell you strength and sweetness don’t belong in the same hand. you remind me they always have.”
"Ferdie! Oh, but it's okay if I'm a little full, isn't it?" Mischief for mischief; her eyes twinkle as she accepts the proffered box. "Then I have more time to admire them!"
Which is exactly what she does, peeling the lid from the container only to gasp softly. It's obvious even at a glance how much effort went into this. After all, decorating shaped cookies? The very first time she'd tried, she'd fought for her life just to smear ungainly globs of frosting over them only to have crumbs come away with the knife. (To her credit, however, it may have been proportionally impressive compared to her grand age of five at the time.)
"Wow...! Ferdie, these are beautiful! The shapes, and the colors..." Affection stitches itself into her smile twice over; what a labor it must have been! She looks up at him there, says nothing for a moment but sees him -- all the effort he devotes, and all the words spoken not for what he has done, but for the people in front of him.
"It must have been a lot of work," she answers appreciatively. "But they came out so prettily! Maybe I'll even have to ask you to teach me some tricks, hee hee!"
Picking one up (and it is so very hard to choose!), Maria eventually settles on the lion, holding it up in front of herself and giggling a moment later -- once for how adorable, frankly, the cookie is; a second time for the kind words that follow.
"'The strength to keep standing when others expect you to sit,'" she echoes softly. Then: "What about the strength to really see the people around you? And to make beautiful cookies for a sillyhead's silly question?" (It's her; she's the sillyhead. What she sowed in gentle comfort then, she reaps now in a toothy grin.)
"What if we split the first cookie, at least? By your standards, you deserve it just as much as I do! Hee hee." Her expression softens for a moment, appreciative. "You always work so hard, Ferdie. I admire it a lot... so if you don't split this cookie with me, then you must let me make you some tea! Okay? Heeheehee!"
in big dreams
Pinched between thumb and forefinger, the black feather catches the light, for a moment turning umber.
"It's so pretty," Maria marvels, turning the brooch a fraction-inch to peer at someone just beyond it; a crescent grin touches upon her face, and when she laughs, it is a bright sound, unmistakably joy. With this, she thinks her heart feels warmer -- fuller. Quite proudly, she pins it to her dress.
"Hee hee... I like it a lot!"
MARIA -- BLACK FEATHER
Black Feather: Edelgard ; Raven ; Valter ;
White Feather: Shiro ;
String of Pearls: Chad ; Yuri ; Michalis ; Minerva ; Mask 34 ;
Small Bell: Lachesis ;
Teardrop Crystal: Marianne ; Yuzu ; Bernadetta ; Mask 57 ;
There's a gentle dash of audacity, this year, this time. It's no meeting carefully engineered to be fleeting, an entrance racing to its exit, a script prattling to its end — Instead of dropping in between classes, waylaying her on the way to a seminar, running an errand and happening to see her there, his feet carry him to her doorstep, where he lingers. Where his hand hovers for a long, long moment. Where he thinks about the little liberties he's allowed himself around her in all his usual hideawaying and think, this isn't that unusual. Where he gathers his courage and knocks.
Rap-tap. Sharp, steady, unmistakeable. Gloved knuckles hover a moment longer, before lowering to grip the strap of their bag, waiting for her to open the door, waiting for the sound of her voice, waiting for her eyes to brighten, dousing them in color like spring in full bloom.
God, what is wrong with them?
Whatever it is, it's enough to make them keep doing this.
Fidgeting, Chad draws a little parcel out halfway, if only so they don't fumble it. Fingers smooth out the paper, flowers drawn on it by hand, fields of daisies as far as the eye can see. Inside, an array of animal-shaped cookie cutters, laid aside a charm of leather cord, strung with red beads.
They jerk a little when the door opens.
"Maria," they say, and they thought they had more to say, better, more heartfelt congratulations, but every other word evaporates. They flounder for all but a second. Bone-deep dread expands, then implodes inside of them in a howling burst of footfalls, before something rushes back into the space left hollow —
And then, somehow, they're just struck with this stupid little grin. Buoyed aloft, dangerously teering with no fear of falling, sweet-spun and sugar-high on candied strawberries and rosewater sunlight. There's no script. There's no doors. There's no ticking clock.
What the fuck?
What the fuck???
A wrist flicks. Miraculously still deft, they flip the box up out of the bag and hand it to her with both hands. "Happy birthday." They finish, lamely (ducking into their cloak, still smiling).
(there is, naturally, a part of them that is fully freaking the fuck out. please give them about five business minutes to start doing so.)
Though Maria isn't one to create and hold onto expectations, hope is another thing entirely, for as little as she wants to lay these small, unknowable wishes upon their shoulders -- oh, she cannot help herself! She is too easily swayed by the need to every so often kick her feet; every thought and daydream too easily fractured by the errant thrill that bubbles in her chest; wholly, utterly powerless to stop her fingertips from stippling her cheeks, waiting for a promise of affection that she knows full well was never made, and just as surely never owed.
No, not it is not expectation, but stubbornly hopeful anticipation. A letter from her brother, a warm hug from her sister, and… and…!
Digits radiate outward all at once, chin abashedly shoved into the wedge of her palms. They don't owe her anything-- really, they don't-- but she yearns for the affections of the ones she holds affection for. And is there truly fault in that? A dollop of silliness, perhaps, but nothing more greedy than to see herself in their eyes when they smile.
...her homework is a hopeless endeavor at this evening hour, for though it mellows as it wanes, there is far too much daylight left. Instead she reaches for a notebook, flipping to an empty page and staring at it for a while, productiveness much the same as before. (She does manage a title at least, 'Yellow Ribbon Cheesecake' looping across the top of the page, though its margins feature more crudely drawn smiles than ingredients or measurements.)
Rap-tap. Maria jolts, stills, and then beams, recipes forgotten as she trots to her door. She would hesitate to open it, the way her heart titters and swells -- would, were she not so excited. Instead she pulls it open in a fleeting, floating moment, rose-colored eyes searching, landing, finding. And all the world is a little brighter.
"Chad!" A name, a single syllable, and still not short enough to outpace her smile; the corners of her lips pull wide, a crescent smile tipping her head askew. Strands of crimson tickle her shoulder, and for once, she feels the urge to tuck it behind her ear -- does so, and pulls her arms toward herself, one knuckle touching the corner of her lips as she breathes a giddy little laugh.
The funny thing about such an innocent anticipation is the way it blooms, like when you hold a shard of glass to the sun at just the right angle and all its light scatters through its entirety: knowing no one has made it perfect, and everything has made it beautiful. Such is her world in this moment, set aglow.
Though she can see it in his eyes, Chad tucks his smile away, that precious, terrible way he does when he's feeling shy. Her hand shifts, the back of her thumb pressed against her lips as she stifles another giggle. "You remembered," she replies happily, the way one does when it was never in question. Fingers tap against the underside of the parcel, lingering a moment ere taking hold of it in earnest. When she does, it is against her chest, close to her heart.
"...hee hee. Thank you... I'm really happy." Catching the corner of his sleeve, Maria takes care to hold his gaze, warmth though it may bring to her cheeks, so that he knows that she means it. Then, when she is sure he knows, her eyes squeeze shut in abundant affection.
"Really, really... really happy!"
A small plate of sugar cookies await Maria the next time she comes to class. They are still warm, perhaps baked that morning at the gifter's request. Tucked beneath the plate is a plain card of stationary with HAPPY BIRTHDAY. penned in clear, unadorned letters and signed with the letter J. Jeritza lingers outside in the courtyard only long enough to ensure that the half-gift, half-apology has made it to its recipient, then steals away again.
Her birthday begins the same as most days do: with classes that she attends as diligently as ever. By all reason it should proceed the same as the rest of them too, with the exceptions laying with friends and visitors, not such a thing as luck. Yet in spite of this, Maria cannot shake the ineffable feeling that something good will happen today.
And she is proven right when she comes to stand by her desk first thing in the morning, peering at it with curiosity in her eyes. What should greet her but a plate of cookies? Sugar cookies at that — plain and simple, perhaps, but in the same measure sweet and delightful! A gift in no way lacking for any supposed absence or flair.
Pinching the corner of the card beneath it between thumb and fore-knuckle, her suspicions are confirmed: this really, truly is a gift for her. But J…? She doesn’t know a J, does she? A finger curls over her chin in thought. Who would leave this for her…?
It’s when the scent wafts to her nose again a second later that she realizes the treats are still warm, and with a jolt, the little cleric stumbles toward the entryway, a hand braced upon its frame as she looked out upon the courtyard.
“Um…” Rather than worrying about anonymity and mysteries, if the confections were that fresh, surely— surely!— her secret gift-giver had to be nearby.
“Thank you very much!” She called out to somebody, wherever they were. “I hope you have a good day, too!”
They're friends, so of course they know eachothers schedules; It's all too easy for Chad to drop in between classes, enough time to give Maria her gift, enough haste to cite their own classes as reason to book it if they start freaking out like some loser. It's all too easy to spot her leaving her class, easy to quickly intercept her with a quiet call of her name.
"Hey, Maria." He fidgets, briefly, brown eyes flickering away as he clears his throat; Meets her eyes again, makes an effort to not burrow into his collar.
"Here." he hands her a little package, an envelope tied with ribbon on top of a small, flat box. "I didn't forget, yeah? Happy birthday."
A little smile, just for her, even as their face warms. When she opens the package, she'll find a black headband decorated with handmade fabric flowers — a bit like white forget-me nots, if you squint, the envelope containing a quick sketch of her at a market stall; A fragment snagged from memory.
"Oh! Chad?" They're friends, so of course they know each other's schedules -- and that's what sets Maria's eyes aglow. Curiosity, gladness, and oh, she can't help it; she's just a bit hopeful today as well. This isn't where his classes usually take him this time of week, after all, and while birthday wishes aren't the be all, end all of friendships, she cannot help but find a warm, gentle delight in them.
"What's this?" She asks, receiving parcel and paper with a ginger touch, handling them as preciously as she holds them in her heart. There's no expectation of an answer, but the question softens the way her lips curl at the corners. He's fidgeting again. Rose-colored eyes stay fixed to the box in one of her hands, but the other rises to her mouth, catching the quiet giggle that escapes her.
"Hee hee... Yeah!" Eyes flick back up to catch his quiet smile, returned full-heartedly with a toothy grin that splits the landscape of her expression. "I wish I could open it now..." Distantly, a bell tolls, reminding her just why she can't; nevertheless, she spares a moment to hug the gift to her chest, bursting with affection. Though she has no reaction to offer him right now, there's no doubting he's just handed her a great treasure. "Thank you so much, Chad!" Another moment spared to playfully poke his shoulder. "Really, truly! I'll open it when I get back to my dorm -- but don't miss class, okay? Heeheehee."
(The next time they see her, surely he'll notice the new hairband she's sporting; even if he doesn't, they'll surely catch her eye, and earn themself a beaming grin from across the hallway and a finger pointed to draw attention to the fact.)
