#prodigyofrenais

[viridescent-lance]

let me axe you a question [Forsyth & Lute]

Starter for @prodigyofrenais

Forsyth leans against a tree, watching his breath cloud between sips of water. It's been a long day thus far, and it's still early afternoon. While he's no master of axes, Forsyth has a fair amount of experience chopping lumber and felling trees, so he figured this would be a suitable assignment to take.

While he was technically right, he hadn't accounted for just how little the students knew to start, if anything at all. Many are nobles, or come from more affluent families that never needed to procure their own firewood. He's had to teach them the grip, the difference between a felling and splitting axe, and even the proper distance to keep from a tree that another is cutting.

He’s in the middle of a particularly refreshing sip when a flash--fire magic, probably?--crosses his vision, and it’s just seconds later that the tell-tale sound of a tree about to fall reaches his ears. The shadow of said tree looming above him is also a pretty good indicator of the predicament Forsyth has found himself in, and he has no time to think as his body leaps into action of its own accord.

And he trips, over his own two feet, rolling unceremoniously as the tree narrowly misses his sprawling form. He looks horribly undignified right now, and to top it all off, he lost grip of his flask during the scramble. It’s almost certainly crushed beneath the weight of the recently felled lumber. Better it than Forsyth, but he does wish he could have saved both…

“Who did that? Felling a tree without proper warning can kill someone!” Forsyth yells, hoping to draw the culprit out as he pulls himself to his feet. From the scorch marks and the flash, whoever was responsible is almost certainly a mage, and an impatient one at that. Did they not listen to Forsyth when he told them the dangers of using magic for this job? Ugh, and the lumber is charred badly, enough that a lot of it is unusable for even crude woodwork. This is exactly what Forsyth was trying to avoid!

[constanzea]

let the caged bird sing

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]

Constance awakens with a sharp jolt, metal cuffs digging into her ankles. It takes a moment for her to make sense of her surroundings. She’s sat in a wooden cage that appears to have a thick blanket draped over it. A little sunlight trickles in, just enough for her to see but the cage is mostly cast in dark shadows. Worst of all, she’s chained to someone.

Had she been alone, her magical prowess would allow her to simply destroy her restraints and make an escape. Preferably draped in that thick blanket. At such close quarters though, she would have to be careful not to injure the other person fool enough to end up in this situation with her.

At least, Constance thinks, they may be able to assist her once they’re both thrown into the midday sun.

Using her free leg, she nudges the figure next to her. Purple haired. Scrawny. Likely a student of the magical arts as she is. Obviously her inferior - no one was as talented and conscientious a mage as Constance von Nuvelle, after all. Still, perhaps her companions talents would prove useful. Would serve to augment her own.

The student (she wears the uniform of the Officer’s Academy) does not stir.

“Wake up, this instant! I must insist upon it,” Constance hisses, trying not to let her irritation show too much. Surely the other party will be as eager to leave, once she wakes from her slumber. Eyes flutter open and Constance allows herself a short sigh of relief. She smiles amicably at her companion - hopefully her escape partner. “It appears we’ve been kidnapped. Luckily for you, you are in the presence of the scion of House Nuvelle - Fodlan’s premier and most exalted house of mages. I assure you, we shall be free of our binds most swifly!”

She cannot hold back a grimace.

“I fear I do have one tiny weakness. Sunlight. That’s where you come in, I must beg you aid in encouraging me to leave with you once we are both free. Such a generous offer is one you simply cannot turn down.”

@prodigyofrenais

[jehannanmage]

joie de vivre

It’s been a couple of weeks in the making, but a lull in schoolwork has finally made this possible. Some of the students choose to tackle last year’s events with light-hearted humor, resulting in Garreg Mach’s first ever “Glad-To-Be-Alive” party! When you arrive in the classroom it’s hosted in, you see a cozy little get-together with handmade decorations and the smell of dinner in the air. After saying what you are thankful for, everyone is to feast on a whole (small) roasted chicken, something that the students claim is their new Officers Academy tradition.

He was still alive, and thus, life was good. No one knew, not really, what it held yet on the horizon for them all, but if these past two years, rewound and lived anew, were to be of indication...

Well, certainly it’d not be anything approaching dull.

The church’s hidden foe, those strange specters operating in the shadows, were never far from his mind now. They were dangerous. Had threatened - and followed through on - lethal force in the past. But when folks wanted to make merry, certainly Ewan would never be the one to stop them.

Raising his glass of definitely-not-alcohol, most-certainly-school-appropriate drink in cheers with his fellows, the Jehannan grinned and laughed alongside his peers. He’d be hard pressed not to enjoy himself at such an event! So, then,

why did it feel like someone was burning a hole at the base of his neck?

Peering over the edge of his drink, Ewan glanced about the room, none too surreptitiously. And his overt gaze earned him his prize: a better look at she who was unabashedly staring him down. With a quick word to his pals he excused himself, but doubted if he’d be missed - in all the chaos and sheer loudness of the surroundings, he’d be just fine to slip away.

“Why if it isn’t Lute!”

A fellow mage of the Renaitians royals’ company. He propped himself against the wall next to her, cheek leaned against his fist. “Are you not enjoying yourself? Seems like it’d be lonely all the way out here on your own.”

And why, oh why, had she been staring him down?

He’d get to that soon, if need be.

[starter for @prodigyofrenais ]