#secretforestlady

[soliegis]

𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐌 𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐔𝐒.

          he can’t help but regret that cube two-point-oh hadn’t provided them with more thorough information. ‘ wouldn’t you like to know? ’ was all it had sneered at him — or, as much of a sneer as he could call it without it having a face. ( and what was it it had called him? ) though he supposes he can’t expect a talking square to care much for their wellbeing. in every respect, it seemed to have the same faculties as a person — speech, self-awareness, motion; even its own thoughts and feelings, if its words were anything to go by. he’d never seen anything like it, but by this point he’s had that thought more times than he can count, and has begun adjusting to the otherwordliness of this place as they advance, assembling what he sees and finds into something, he hopes, that will provide an answer with time.

          already, he’s figured out a bit more about the device in his hands, if nothing else.

          three taps on the button at the bottom of the frame changes the moving image on its face to the narrow corridor again, this time empty, but no doubt with the metal beast he’d seen patrolling earlier lurking somehow beyond the boundaries of the picture. he’s come to understand that the events portrayed here are not within the portrait itself, but depictions of life as they happened elsewhere by some magic beyond his comprehension.

          regardless, it’d be useful for what they might face up ahead.

          ❝ we have two goals here, ❞ he summarizes for the others, ❝ our original mission — collecting anything that may serve as a weapon and gathering them on the top floor — and finding a way further down to the lower levels. i will warn you: a sentry is waiting for us up ahead. i’d like to get past without alerting it if possible, but there is a chance this will be dangerous. i don’t know any of you personally... but i’ll be trusting you when the time comes. ❞

          moving to take point at the threshold to the one-width corridor, he presents the screen in his hands to the others, largely for the sake of the two who may not have seen it earlier. ❝ i’m confident this is the very hallway we’ll be walking. the image moves, and you will see a metal beast enter, pacing along the corridor. i have to focus on what’s in front of us, so i’d like for one of you to take this and keep an eye on what it shows you, and guide us forward according to the beast’s movements. ❞

              ↪   @disgracedvessel, @secretforestlady, or @asphuxia

[filthtouched]

in memoriam

Though many—if not all—might object, Niles can be eloquent when needed. Twisting words has always been just as fun as twisting a knife, after all, and he’s rather talented at doing both. But here and now, facing two great beasts with people he wouldn’t trust to stand even a step behind his shadow...

Well, fuck.

...sometimes, eloquence has to take a backseat.

He isn’t a hero, and no amount of participation in any number of wars will ever change that. He doesn’t claim to be kind. He doesn’t claim to be true. If sacrificing half the men and women by his side now will mean he could return to his lord’s side in one piece, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

(Maybe he’ll have to.)

“It was never going to be just a simple in and out, was it?” he grins, drawing his bow. “Not that I’m complaining. Sometimes, a little bit of a rough exit can be fun.”

The first arrow to fly misses; the beast is fast, and Niles doesn’t expect the way it lashes out in turn, a counterattack that he should’ve seen coming but doesn’t. 

Right. As he said: fun.

@freliaes @secretforestlady @soliegis

[ulircursed]

throw caution to the wall

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]

     “...I fail to see how this is my problem.”

     Andrei’s complaint left his lips too late, as the upperclassman who had explained the situation had already left him with the stack of training javelins — ironically, the same kind as the three currently stuck up to the shaft into a niche in the wall far above, where stone met the layer of softer material under the roofing.

     He glanced down at the unfamiliar weapons, annoyed. Even if he could figure out how to aim a javelin properly after the mere half-hour of watching the other students train, it would be no easy task to focus his throw enough to get it as high as they had. He was quite certain the muscular strength developed from using a bow was different from that required to throw a lance.

     Then again, this could very easily not be his problem. He was under no obligation whatsoever to help fix this problem, and aside from the ire of the one upperclassman who had forcibly enlisted his help, there was unlikely to be much in the way of consequences. With that in mind, he turned to leave — and was immediately met with a familiar face.

     “Lady Deirdre,” Andrei gave a nod of greeting, “What a pleasant surprise to see you here.” He hadn’t heard about the princess being a fighter at all during their time in Jugdral, and even here in Fódlan, she appeared more focused on magic. “I did not realize you were trained in lances,” he said carefully. She didn’t seem the type to take offense from rash assumptions, but... one could never be too careful, even if they weren’t in a courtly setting at the moment.

@secretforestlady

[healresolve]

@secretforestlady //  “It fills me with joy to know that my own children are friends with the daughter of my dear Edain.”

Julia had been suffering from amnesia too, according to Lewyn, ever since he’d found her and even Febail had lost his for a time just like Lady Deirdre. Of course Lana had loved them all in spite of it, knowing memories or lack thereof hadn’t altered the good, kind people she knew, but she cannot help wondering if there was something more too it - a common thread.

However this dreadful bunker was hardly the ideal place to dwell on it, so instead she focused on Lady Deirdre’s smile. It’s a gentle thing, something she recognizes because she’s seen it worn by Seliph and Julia both who she adores with all her heart.

Her hands tentatively reach for Deirdre’s, a habit she’d develop through emulating how mother would always reassure those around her. “My mother treasures you to this very day,” she responds warmly. “And your children are important people to me. I grew up with Seliph, in fact, in a town in Isaach. He’s very special to me.” A blush creeps onto her cheeks, hands pulling away to flail uselessly infront of her. “I mean, he was special to all of us, really. Everyone expected great things from him and... well, I think most of all he just wanted to make you and Lord Sigurd proud.”

[ashenprofessor]

Trick or defeat? [Bronze round]

The arena is waiting for you. Try you hands at new weapons and best a variety of opponents! Open to all.

These had been the words on the flier that strange man wearing a pumpkin on his head had shoved into the professor’s hand as she’d wandered around the festivities checking out the stalls. She didn’t know if he was distributing them to everyone or had singled her out due to her armour and obvious weaponry but the swirling purple text had intrigued her enough to head to the stated location. 

Upon arrival she noticed a small crowd of students and staff alike, mingling outside a colourful circus looking tent. She waved at a few faces she recognised and waited to be told what was going on. 

“Welcome to Phantasmagoria‘s famous arena!” A voice projected into the crowd. Byleth looked around and spotted another character with a pumpkin head on a small stand addressing them all. “Who dares enter it’s walls, leaving your weapons behind, and taking up something new against our dastardly cast of enemies? Treats await for the victors and for the vanquished... perhaps a trick will suffice”

While it was a strange premise, the mercenary was alway ready to throw down in combat so Byleth carefully removed her sword and placed it in the provided barrel. Looking at the options available, she picked the steel lance and scroll containing a new spell.

They milled around in the holding area whilst each team was called forwards. Eventually it was just her, Dierdre, Pulmeria and Michalis left. 

“Guess you lot are the final team.  Hee Hee!” Came a high pitched voice from a shorter robed figure. “This way. This way. Hee Hee!”

The arena itself was more a glorified patch of dirt in the centre of the tent. The outer edge of the circle glowed faintly indicating the presence of magic. It pulsed blue as each of them entered. Awaiting them were their opponents. A short archer with an even shorter bow, a muscle brawler type bashing his fists together in preparation and a soldier in elaborate armour. Presiding above them was a cavalier on a huge black horse, dressed in pitch black armour to match. 

“Let’s the fight commence!” 

Byleth drew her lance from her back and held it in front of her defensively. “I’ll go first” she told her team charging at the soldier.

Roll: 20! || Critical Hit! || Damage: -4HP  [Soldier : 2/6 HP]

The ashen demon lived up to her moniker, stabbing the soldier through the clavicle with the point of the lance, driving them to the floor and pinning them there. 

Roll: 20! || Critical Hit! || Damage: -3HP  [Byleth : 7/10HP]

However, Byleth struggled to remove the lance from the puncture wound, unuse to its increased length compared to her sword. As she tugged at the weapon, she felt a searing sensation in her leg where the soldier had taken his own lance and swiped in across her thigh leaving a deep gash. 

Eventually the lance came free and Byleth retreated to join the rest of her team. “That soldier wont take much more” She informed them. “But it came at a cost. New weapons are tricky” @secretforestlady

[amitieos]

sometimes the road is crystal

The carnival is in town! Nothing like a little truancy and fried treats of your choice to spend away an entire afternoon… And giant, stuffed plushes and shiny prizes catch your eye. “Play a game?” The booth attendant holds out a rickety toy bow. How hard could it be? [Grants Bow +1]

Skipping classes was so unlike her and Elincia knew playing truant was wrong. It felt so right though, meandering through the carnival with a funnel cake dusted with powdered sugar in one hand and Deirdre’s in the other. She could only see her friend’s lilac locks behind the massive cotton candy stick that Grannvale’s princess was treating herself too. Adorable! The fairground smells so delectable, the sights and sounds seem to sparkle and her heart is so light. Elincia feels like she’s both floating above the clouds and walking on crystals. It’s such a precious little moment.

They deserve it, both of them. All of their friends too, still bore emotional bruises and scars after last months events and revelations. It seems like a world away right now though and Elincia pushes it to the back of her mind, instead focusing on guiding Deirdre (who likely couldn’t see past the misty pink fluff in front of her) through the busy crowds.

Both young women pause before a booth filled with targets and... and oh goodness, the largest array of stuffed animals Elincia thinks she’s ever seen. All creatures great and small filled the booth! She had been raised a princess and still never seen so many plushies in one place. The child in her heart sang with joy as her cheeks turned the same colour as Deirdre’s candy floss. Behind the counter, the booth’s attendants call them over, challenging to a game with a toy bow in hand. Elincia turns to her companion mirthful and brisk.

“Deedee, do you want a souvenir?” Elincia has very, very basic training with bows but.... if it makes her friend happy, she’ll stand here shooting for hours. She’s humble enough not to promise a grand prize but she can’t resist the allure of cuddly toys. Nothing will stop her taking at least one of the little ones home!

@secretforestlady

[disgracedvessel]

She knows she's asking for more than her son will want to give. He's made it abundantly care that he does not need her or want her. But she needs him.

"Julius, my darling," Deirdre pleads, "Let me hold you, just for a moment. Just one hug and I swear I will leave you be. Please..." I love you. We've gone through hell. I need this.

Julius had half-expected his mother to have abandoned those she had been fighting alongside simply to be near him, but when she comes to him only after the battle is finished, he's not sure whether to be relieved or jealous. She had nearly suffocated him while they fought the sentinel on the floor above, but the moment she let go... No, he doesn't need her.

But she needs him. Her desperation rings clear and softens his features nearly imperceptibly. He doesn't make a move, however. How can she desire being so close to the one who killed her? His own hands are stained with not only the blood of children, but with hers as well.

Another beat passes and his eyes flicker over her shoulder to the rest of their team. They're tending their own wounds, so the corner where he and Deirdre stand remains unnoticed. His eyes meet hers, narrow as he exhales, and he takes a forward step that is unexpectedly shaky.

"Father-- Arvis ordered that I look after your safety," Julius says into her shoulder with all the coldness he can muster. This is a favor, nothing more, it says, but his fingers tremble against his mother's back. She feels so fragile... and yet her embrace is anything but. He wrenches his eyes shut against a sudden sting - why? what was this? - and speaks still with the detached surliness of a stranger, each word carefully and painstakingly level.

"If this will make you look less like you're about to drop dead--" The word catches in his throat. Fingers curl. He huffs, steps away quickly, head down and turned as he finds some wire or broken machinery on the floor more important than her. Blinking pinpricks from his eyes, he breathes in to steady his voice again.

"Stop wasting your energy and go make yourself of use to the injured."

[avemaera]

"You promised!" Deirdre clutches the front of her husband's robes and looks up at him with pleading eyes. "You promised you wouldn't leave me again! I won't do it. I'll refuse to go. Something terrible will happen, I just know it. What if he tries to hurt you again?"

"Deirdre-"

There are no words to soothe her in this state, and even if they existed, they could not stand against the sound of her sobs. She desperately clings to him, and he can only quietly hold her back, burying her face against him.

"I was rash before- careless to your pleas-" Lips are pressed to her hair between words that still feel hollow, no matter how much regret he holds. "You know I would follow you to the ends of this world."

But the knights were unyielding. Every student and soldier alike was conscripted, and their duties preordained. He was finding now that his arrangement with Garreg Mach was not just that of a professor.

He cradles her face and kisses her gently, wiping away tears and stray hair. "But I swear to you, I shall not die."

He kisses her again. Slower. Deeper. "Sigurd will not best me."

He rocks her gently in his arms. "I worry more for you, my love..."