#rigelspride

[laflorenata]

Nightmares, seemingly endless, at last break upon a quiet beach. Periwinkle locks stand like an oasis amidst the sand, as luminous in the moonlight as new snowfall in the mountains of Rigel. It has been far too long since he has seen her whole, and he fights the loose sand that slips and slides beneath his feet to reach her. "Rinea." Proud voice falls quiet and uncertain at the sight of her turned back. [1/2]

Still he glides his arms around her shoulders, pulls her close, and is stunned into a moment's silence when she does not disperse beneath his hands like smoke. "How I've longed to see you again..." he sighs into her ear. "Dream though this may be, let us make the most of the time we've been given. I fear when next we meet, it will be in a nightmare once more." [2/2]  

     If she clicked her heels, could she return from whence she came? Or perhaps she could follow the stars in the sky, find the northern star and use it as her compass in this strange world. The stars seemed to always shift between nights, like her mind was playing tricks on her. ( "I’m sure you understand that your appearance here comes as a shock." ) No, it was the opposite, she had only brought suspicion and confusion upon arrival.

     Rinea lets the stars guide her, only to leave her at the shoreline. The moon reflects on the water like glass, illuminating the beach with the faintest of light.

     A voice calls to her, but she does not turn her head to look. Although much softer than his usual commanding and boisterous volume, she recognizes it as her betrothed. Her name sounds the sweetest coming in the form of a whisper that fell from his lips, however, there is hesitation and fear shoots up her spine. What would he think? 

     Any lingering doubt is then smothered by strong, but gentle arms that wrap around her in a hug, sheltering her from the lonely wind. Instinctively, she closes her eyes and brings her hands to touch his as she listens to the ballad her songbird delivers.

     His words echo and she opens her eyes, downcast at the ground beneath them. Time had slipped from them like the sand laid across the beach and she was sure if they were to reunite once more, it would not be kind to them. There was so much she wanted to explain to him, but the words don't make it past her teeth.

     He deserved a moment of repose.

     Instead, she lifts one of his hands and presses a kiss to his knuckles. She need not disturb what little peace the night held. Someday the dream will end and she would face the music, but until that day came, the symphony of the sea would suffice.

[yewfallen]

buridan’s donkey

Mission Task Board: If you’ve ridden one land-bound quadruped, you’ve basically ridden them all, right? A number of less conventional occupants have been boarded in the Academy stables; they look like they’d be more suited for a farm… or perhaps a petting zoo? Nevertheless, there is fitted tack hung up by their stalls, so they must be good to ride! Show off your riding prowess with a friend in a low-stakes race! [Grants Riding +1]

@rigelspride

    Archers at the academy enter battle in all forms, from infantry to upon horseback to even dance across the skies atop a mighty wyvern's back. But... Febail can't say he's ever heard of one who rode in with a donkey... even if this one did seem bigger than the others.

“ Hey, ”  he grabs a nearby person manning the stables, thinking this must be some kind of joke.  “ Weren't there supposed to be new horses coming in? ”

“ Nope. Only these fellas, here. They're still good for ridin', if that's what yer worried 'bout! They figured it'd make the race today a bit more interestin' to see everyone try a new mount an' all. ”

So that's how it was. And here he was, the even bigger joke for actually considering trying it. But... he needed to have some experience with riding at some point as an archer, right? If this is all they got, then he'd have to deal with it. He puts a foot in the stirrup, hoisting himself up into the saddle when he sees another person come towards all the new racing animals.

“ ...You also entering the race? ”  The other male didn't seem the type to demean himself to nonconventional steeds just based on the way he carried himself, but then again, nobles and royals seemed to be weirdos all around Febail had quickly learned. Still, the sight causes the blond to quirk an eyebrow, curious all the same.

[laflorenata]

“Sincerely Yours” [ // eyes emoji ]

[ Yours Truly (Letters) | Accepting ]

     A woman of few words has several thoughts and only some have the privilege of being recorded in tangible form and sent out. Rinea had spent a handful of her evenings writing by candlelight, reading and revising exactly what to send. Some nights were spent clutching the letter to her chest and imagining what he would have to say about it, what his reaction would be. It wasn't until recently that she finalizes her work.

     A decently thick envelope sealed with a classic, red wax emblem finds its way into Berkut's chamber. The letter is slid underneath the crack of the door at the cusp of midnight where only the moon and the stars dared to be awake and seen. Inside it reads:

My dearest, Berkut,

How have you been faring—academia and training, specifically. I do pray that the adjustment period was a smooth one. It has taken me more than a few tries to recall all the months of Fodlan. The calendar here is much more discrete, wouldn't you agree? Nevertheless, it has allowed me to develop a deeper appreciation and the ability to cherish each passing day a little more.

Ah, which reminds me... While in passing on the way to class, I had seen you in the training grounds. Had I not been in a hurry, I would have stopped to greet you, but I only had a moment to spare. Though I detest fighting greatly, I couldn't help but recognize and admire your physique. (Perhaps I am being a bit forward by writing this? It certainly brings color to warm my cheeks, hence me sending this letter as opposed to the alternative.) I had no desire to interrupt your training, you seemed in your element, not even the stars could compare to the way you shine. That confidence in you is something I have always found endearing. Anyway, you certainly have the power to sway me as you please.

I meant to tell you this as well. Recently, I had the strangest dream—at this point, I have to question at what point does reality straddle imagination—that you were in and I came to the conclusion of how much I missed being in your embrace. Convinced that the ceaseless, monotonous sands and ocean water I would wake to each morning was a figment of my imagination, some sort of purgatory, I thought to myself, "Must I imagine you there?" 

Suffice to say, it was bliss and hell in one. For a while, I thought my mind was playing cruel tricks, dangling what I left behind in the past life before my eyes...

     Hesitation brings the nib to a halt and hangs heavy like the ink settling deep into the parchment. Eyes close as she lets out a long exhale. As grateful as she is to be alive once more, some get half as many, unfortunately, she is also left in a state of mire—thoughts she couldn't properly express no matter how many ink soaked papers she sends. Negative thought subside for now. Azure peeks beneath eyelids slowly and she dips the quill back into the ink to continue writing:

...But no. When I had finally awoke and saw you cut and bruised, my heart sank and tears shed. As I tenderly pressed my forehead to yours, afraid that I had awoken in a worse world—one without you—I was assured from your quiet breaths you were still here. It was then I realized the strength of your love. I suppose now, that this is the reason I am writing this to you. Although I would prefer to whisper my confessions into your ears in the privacy of your quarters, it is instead encompassed in a letter, should you ever need a reminder of how much I value you.

There is nowhere I would go if it wasn't led by you—my hero, my emperor, my beloved.

Ever yours,

Rinea

[laflorenata]

» menace of the deep

@rigelspride

     For such a little town, villagers were constantly hustling and bustling. Everyone had their role be it a baker, a seamstress, a poultry farmer, or whatever else in a provincial life. In the midst of madness, Rinea had fallen into the role of a flower peddler. She oft kept to herself, limiting interactions to sales of her wares and whatever other menial errands she needed to run. It was this reason the people of the town thought her a bit odd if the looks and whispers weren’t clear enough. 

     She cared not what others had to say, outwardly at least. Her gaze was one that could best be described as spacey and in the clouds. Though it was in part by choice that she didn’t socialize with others, there were days more often than not, that she longed for a friend to chat with, someone she didn’t need to keep at arm’s length. Fate had a funny way of granting her wishes. 

     On her way home, she had a routine of humming whilst she walked. These strolls were often spent alone, but today a stranger obscures her path, causing her steps to come to a complete halt. If what the townspeople had said was true, there would be no mistaking of who this was.

    A fabled hunter whose reputation precedes him. Those who sung his praises did no justice for how stunning he was in person. In sunset’s glow, his cheeks were highlighted in the most ethereal way and flicks of golden rays hidden among raven tresses. In spite of herself, she stands attentive, curious about the man that was before her. A small smile is brought to her face, only disappearing when she searches her basket for something to give him.

    Only a few flowers remained, but she picks the sunflower (they were meant to follow the sun, after all) and offers it toward him. “For you, on the house.” There was no point in charging, she would restock her inventory the next day and for him, it was the least she could do.

[wolfhednn]

HERALD OF PRIDE. — メ

@rigelspride:

continued from.

          even in lost paradise, the heat of the sun is unrelenting. it beats down without care for the rumors of wishes granted to the faithful, clinging to sweat and magnified by exertion-heated skin. the half shade of this palm clearing is the only respite he’s found suitable enough to suffice as a training ground; the crystalline cut of a blade through the air and its comfortable weight in his hand bestow a welcome stillness to the chaos his mind finds itself in more often the longer this realm absorbs them all as residents of its new and unwilling sanctuary. the more others settle in, the longer he spends here, honing his skills for whatever this place masks with its lull of complacency.

          at the end of another steady repetition of the modified sword forms developed in the aftermath of his injury, he becomes aware of a second set of footsteps crossing the sand. stern eyes hold the distant point of a tree trunk some yards away before he slowly lowers his training weapon, straightening even as the new arrival announces his business. with an authority and self-possession rarely heard from the other academy inhabitants, he notices — even the faculty.

          ❝ so you’re the one who’s been spying on me, ❞ he remarks neutrally, turning fully to face the other man, cursory glance appraising an apollonian posture, a tangible air of self-respect. perhaps he’s just a student he hasn’t met, or perhaps otherwise some mirage conjured by the preternatural bounds of this utopia. a gesture of the arm suggests go ahead; it’s been some time since he’s found someone who looks they might stand a chance. ❝ hm. you seem like a worthy opponent, and i was getting tired of waving this sword around alone. ❞ he easily adopts a ready stance, curious and watching.

          ❝ felix, ❞ he offers by way of introductions. ❝ we’ll begin when you’re ready. ❞

[verseandrhyme]

@rigelspride | cont

Though boorish in manner, Mitama cannot stop the sneer that finds root to sprout on her face as he barrels towards her. She’s not such a fool to think that she can outmatch him in a contest of purely physical endeavors, so she does not attempt to wrest the toy front his grip when he takes hold and aims it away from him.

She does briefly consider kicking his shin, but that would doubtless give him more fuel for their verbal spats, and she would not hand him ammunition so easily. And it was undignified. Or whatever.

“Oh, I must sincerely apologize. I did not realize your wished for us to be on equal fields. Considering how low you lay last time we met, I thought you would have found the strength to claw your way back up again by now. My mistake, I shall find the generosity to lower myself to your standards.”

Though the words are barbed, it is through an act of familiarity more than anything. She frowns, glancing briefly at where the wound she treated lay. He sported no outside signs of strain. “...And what of you? Still resorting to grandeur to hide all else? You seemed beyond such last we met.”