#rudlm

[hresvelged]

high searching

After the events of the last moon, it was logical to investigate beyond where the church had deployed them. She had no qualms with venturing past Garreg Mach’s walls- Much the opposite, in fact. Although Edelgard had not been in Faerghus territory during the latest missions, now was the perfect opportunity to travel into an area that needed to be seen by her gaze and the eyes of others.

It’s at the request of an anthropologist that she found herself with Alm- There had been an explanation of century old carvings and a story foreign to the Adrestian princess’s ears. She was curious enough to see it for herself, if only so that she could piece things together and unearth that which had been buried. Truths could not stay hidden forever.

The hunt was akin to spotting light in a ray of clouds, keeping her attention absolute as she looked for the markings that acted as a guide. It seemed probable that what they were looking for would stand out amidst their watch.

Soon enough, the sight of crystal blue waters stood out amidst the scenery. The heel of her boots dug into the ground as she stepped, placing a hand atop a nearby tree as she paused. The air was as still as the night sky, save for the occasional twinkle of a star and a reflection of something in front of them.

Minus the noise of other animals nearby here and there, it was otherwise quiet. She couldn’t make out what they were, given how dark it was. It was the water in front of them that left a strange feeling in the princess, regardless.

Turning to Alm, she gestured towards the water and said, “That was more difficult to find than I imagined.” A pause. “In any case, this must be what we’re looking for.”

@rudlm

[maesterofmagic]

» Levanter

     A stiff breeze rushes past them in the still of this waiting game. Mae plays with the ends of one of her pigtails, still trying to process it all. Where they were, what happened at the ruins of Garreg Mach, that man. She wanted to make light of the situation at hand, try to ease her partner or her own worries, but the image keeps replaying itself in her mind. 

     It was to no fault of her or her group’s own and there was nothing to be done about it now. She reminds herself of this again and again, but the echoes of his wailing ring in her ears, mimicking how they bounced off the walls of the empty remains.

     Focus, Mae. She closes her eyes and exhales loudly. To avoid as many casualties as possible, the defense team needed to be here and present. She opens her eyes to the sound of distant drumming—approaching soldiers. 

     There was something off about them. The rigid way they moved was the first clue, but embedded in the chest of each was a fragment, something that glistened in the light. She squints as they near. Brown eyes catch a small flicker of pink and she gasps. “Those pink shards...”

     “Celica...” The name slips from her lips barely above a whisper and her arm lowers. Oh, for the love of Mila, please say she did not have those with her still.

     The mage looks to Alm. “Any specific plan of action?”

@rudlm​​

[rigelspride]

"Berkut...?" There is surprise in his voice. He approaches him, jasper searching his expression. A smile in his direction. "I didn't know you were going to enroll here." There's a pause when he adds, a bit softer, uplifting almost—smile matches his voice—this time, as if hesitant to how hard the tiger will bite, but hopeful that he wouldn't. "Have you eaten? I was just on my way to the Dining Hall. We could go together."

That voice.

No. No. Not here too.

Perhaps that dream had been a sign of things to come. The rage Berkut had felt then at the sight of his mother’s ring between his cousin’s fingers bubbles up into his chest again, burning like fire. Was there nowhere he could claim for himself? Rigel. Valentia. His own dreams. And now this academy. Tainted. Rooted deep at the center of it all is the fear that he will always be eclipsed. That Alm’s destiny written by the gods was to rule, while his own was to be trod upon.

But he quiets the inferno. Smothers it. Alm’s appearance in his dreams had at least prepared him for confrontation, allowed his instinct to snap like a mousetrap so that he could compose himself better the second time. He had always known anyway that eventually he would be made to face his cousin again, though he had always thought it would be in Valentia. On his own terms.

His shoulders rise with tension, and his expression is dark and smoldering when he at last turns to Alm, but there is no explosive tirade this time. He regards his cousin with his head angled partly away, narrow eyes made sharper by the line of his cheek. Gaze lowers in rare silence, appraises the uniform shoes Alm now wears in place of the muddy work boots Berkut remembers seeing last, and lifts again only as far as his shoulder. He stares past him at some distant point.

Had he known Alm had enrolled as well, he would have retracted his application. But he chooses to answer differently. Stormy eyes flicker up to meet emerald.

“You left the throne less than a year after you wrenched it from His Majesty’s dead hands. I had to see for myself what could possibly be so important.” Cold and sharp in place of volatile passion.

Gaze sweeps out across the courtyard, over the heads of other students milling about, and then returns to Alm with a caustic huff.

“It would seem you’ve finally realized leading a country is far more complicated than leading its conquest. Any baseborn barbarian can rally an army to kill for him, after all.” Another huff. “Your smile makes for a fine ruse, I’ll give you that. But what do you hope to achieve with it? With—“ He moves his hand back and forth between them and frowns. “This? Asking me to accompany you to the dining hall as if we’re friends? Hah. What a fantasy you live in.”

[laflorenata]

Alm approaches Rinea with hands behind his back. It's several months before he clears his throat, a fist coming to his mouth, and says, "Lady Rinea." And when he has her attention, he continues, "I wanted to apologize for my actions the other day. You startled me. I should have run off like that." Another pause, before he reveals a small bouquet of lilies and lavender. "For you. As an apology." He smiles softly; there's no way Berkut would enjoy the idea of him gifting flowers to her.

     Alm was the last person she expects to approach. After talking with Celica and piecing together clues of her own, she is almost hesitant to look his direction. He was a kind and fair man, she could tell, but did she deserve his sympathy?

     A deep breath in and out. Rinea turns to face him in the absence of firelight, but his features were stark and clear, even underneath the sky of stars. A verdant green—optimistic and true, fitting for his character, she sees this now.

    Curious questions of what or why he hides his hands behind his back are answered before she has the chance to voice it when he pulls out a bouquet.

    “Oh, the bloom on these is lovely.” Her eyes widen at the bouquet of lavender and white, taking a moment to admire the petals, a soft smile appearing on her features. Looking back up to him, she nods. “Thank you, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I did not mean to give offense, but I startled you.”

    She plucks a single lily and lavender and hands it back to him. “I hope this sparks cordiality from here on out. To new beginnings.”

[arcstral]

MARTH. PLEASE. KISS HIS HAND

               The animated bustle of the kissing booth square fell curiously in line with a marketplace. Down to the unknown throngs of people coming and going, loitering as they pleased or diving in wholeheartedly for their coveted selection of ‘wares’. The situation was enough to drive any full or partial introvert to reclusion. It is why the lord could not be more pleased when a familiar face finally rolls along, soothing the frayed medley of his nerves by their presence alone.

               "Ah! Hello, Lord Alm,” Marth greets sweetly, perhaps a hair too transparent in the realm of his gratitude at sighting someone he knew. A Valentian was no Archanean, but with none else to reach any closer, they may as well have been litter mates displaced only by a sea. “Have you come to investigate the commotion? Well.. I do suppose you’ve come for more than that, having made your stop here. I cannot reasonably refuse you.” An abashed set of the mouth betrays his slight embarrassment, though Marth quickly brushes it aside.

               As he rose from his chair with nary a grate of its legs, the graceful strides of his advancement towards the king may have already revealed his mind. His fingers took a light and butterfly hold of the Valentian’s fingers, hoisting them to his lips with the same delicacy as he might employ when laying a kiss across the knuckles of his imperial princess. Though of course, Alm was not Nyna, and such a difference marked his rare jest afterward. “I consider you a deeply respected friend, my lord. This is precisely why I cannot send you away, empty of.. Hand.” 

[boundlesshart]

"Lord Claude," he calls for the house leader with a curt gesture of his hand. "A pleasure to see you. Remember when we went to the beach? The dance we did? I think we should do it again. It'd be a lot of fun, don't you think?"

“The dab right?” It’s hard to forget the strange dance, the sight of Alm leaning down and hitting that dab low and deep in the bonfire’s light. Claude threw himself into research as soon as they returned home, and it didn’t take long before he struck gold. “I read up on it way back, actually. It originated as a technique fishermen would use to catch fish in the Airmid River. Of course, catching one fish at a time isn’t really efficient…. but it still lives on in song and dance.”

Claude shakes his limbs, readying himself. Then he hits that sweet dab, coming down low but not quite as low as Alm. Sudden his arm shoots out as if snatching something from the floor, and slowly Claude returns to his original position. “See?” he grins, holding out an imaginary fish. “They called it ‘hitting the dab’… it’s named after the dab fish.”

[tobenobility]

[Tank build — 3 HP] A brief twirl of his sword. He watches, and though he tells himself to wait, he cannot. Alm pushes off the balls of his feet and sprints towards Lord Ferdinand. He pushes off the ground again, sword raised over his head and a battle cry echoing through the air. He aims to end this battle in one swing. [Alm rolls to attack. 20. Critical success!]

Ferdinand’s attention was brought to Alm by the battle cry incoming – and once he saw the foreign king sprinting at him with ferocity in his eyes, Ferdinand grinned and pulled out the iron sword that he was himself using in this tournament (although it was wrapped – he was not exactly looking to take somebody’s head off). A sword deserved a sword, especially when it was such an opponent as Alm, King of Valentia. “A match of gentlemen!” crowed Ferdinand, and that’s when Alm came wheeling in with a brutal swing.

Dodge Roll: 15! Dodge!

Ferdinand was likely not the swordsman that Alm was, but he wasn’t a neophyte either, and he maneuvered the sword into a parry, tilting it so that the powerful blow eventually slipped away from him. And, of course, he took the opportunity to speak. “I am glad to get the opportunity to spar against you, Alm! Truly, you are one of the most worthy opponents that I could have hoped to get! This will be a veritable match of titans, yes?” And then Ferdinand actually did riposte with a thrust, since he wasn’t just here to talk, as much as he liked to.

Attack Roll: 8, no crit!

Ferdinand’s HP: 2/2!

[savboer-blog]

cry havoc

@rudlm

“Lad.”

Who Saber is speaking to doesn’t need any further indication. Having only one eye always makes it clear what the man is focusing on, and the way his eye doesn’t leave the younger’s form leaves no room for questioning. As for the intent, well. If his serious expression wasn’t enough of an indicator of his mood, the hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword would be.

He gave a short jerk of his head, off in the direction of cemetery. Private, as he’d only ever seen one student hanging around there, and if the mood struck him it’d be an easy place to dispose of the lad. “Come for a walk, will ya? Have some...teacherly words I’d like to exchange with you.”

A short sneer. Saber couldn’t help himself. Fuckin’ nobles. “Unless playin’ at student is preoccupying you a bit too much, your majesty?”