#seraphiia

[twistedisciple]

[ Fashion Police ] ( hi griss my good """friend""" griss )

While there was a non-zero chance of seeing him, Celica is still surprised to see the nigh shirtless man near the refreshments. His barely there shirt has the queen clicking her tongue—leave it to Griss to blithely ignore conventions such as public decency.

"By the Mother. Even for this occasion, you decided not to dress yourself? Though... I suppose you should be the last one I would expect to be setting good examples."

For a moment, Celica's eyes flick from side to side; scanning every nearby server, silently seeking out one of those accursed rats she may have missed. He wouldn't get the jump on her this time.

"...Anyway." Gaze turns back to him, "You seem uncharacteristically docile. Nothing here grabs your interest, I take it?"

He knows the sound of disapproval anywhere, and he loves it. Glancing up from where he’d been picking at (desiccating, really) a fruit tart on a napkin, Griss finds that it’s his favorite priestess who’s come to chide him and his lips peel back in a lopsided grin. It was almost like she liked it as much as he did!

”What do you mean I haven’t dressed myself?” He steps back from the table to open up his arms and present to her the netted shirt that hardly covers much of anything, but certainly more than his usual attire - which is no shirt at all - and the tattered coat that looks, intentionally or not, a size or two too big. He looks down at himself like he doesn’t know what she could possibly mean, and when he raises his head, it’s with a nearly-believable pout.

”I got all the right stuff on! And besides, I made it all. How’d you get everyone callin’ you ‘Caring Princess’ when you’re so judgy all the time.”

He lets his arms fall back to his sides, and with it the facade of hurt as he gives Celly’s own attire a once-over. The saturated red fading to white calls to mind a murder victim bleeding out, and he admires especially how it looks like whoever had done the deed had hit all the major arteries to get it soaked like that.

Then he blinks back to the present reality, and lifts his attention to her face - rosy-cheeked and very much alive, unfortunately.

”What?” he smiles slyly and steps closer. “‘Surprisingly docile?’ That almost sounds like I gotta start making a scene. You want that?” And he points abruptly at the destroyed fruit tart. “‘Cause I don’t.”

[hresvelged]

[ Fashion Police ]

"Edelgard! Your dress is stunning."

Celica approaches, a flute of champagne nursed in one hand as she holds the skirts of her own dress with the other, white ruffles trailing gently along the floor. It would be quite rude not to greet her own House Leader at this event, but more than that, Edelgard was a friend she simply wanted to show appreciation for.

"But really, I should expect no less from such sharp and savvy woman. I hear the fashions in Adrestia are rather high class. Zofia's also been known to boast a famed designer or two."

Crimson pools at Edelgard's hips, laying strong against the beaded embellishments from top to bottom. She dons this dress as a representative of Adrestia, finding herself gravitating towards its decorative style and enticing appearances.

Celica has always been kind and inviting— Even now, as she greets the Imperial Princess, she does so with the very same friendliness as before. Her attire encompasses a beautiful display of fabric; its color befitting.

"Your own dress is just as mesmerizing, Celica. The movement and fabrics suit you well," she says with a smile. Warmth leaves her side. "I will say, I would pleased to hear more about Zofia's fashion. Well versed in Adrestia I might be, I seem to lack when it comes to other places." A short laugh whispers against pink lips. "They are made a specific way. I always find myself gravitating towards these sort of bigger, well-tailored pieces."

[aimlessarchery]

[Champagne ]

Celica approaches the archer with a smile and silent offering of the second champagne flute in her hand, refraining from sipping from her own. "Python! I'm glad to see you here. I hope you've been enjoying yourself?"

A moment of pause as her smile slips into a smirk, "Maybe almost as much as you enjoyed watching me fall off that surfboard, hm? Quite hilarious, that."

Python takes the offered drink with a smirk of his own. "Still not tired of seeing this old snake slithering around? You've got a lot of queenly patience, Boss Lady." He raises the glass to his lips just as Celica speaks again, which turns out to be a mistake. The memory of his country's illustrious goddess incarnate tumbling into the ocean in an awkward bundle of limbs and splashing water is still far too vivid in his mind's eye. He snorts. Champagne bubbles and burns up toward his nose in the back of his throat, turning his voice hoarse as he attempts to swallow it down. "Nothin'll match that. Not unless you're plannin' on making a scene and a half on this dance floor." A pause. He clears his throat, though it does little to soothe the sting. "Making a light show like you did with that wave would be pretty exciting. And if you fall on your face again afterward, then hey," His smirk widens, "Maybe it'll be even more memorable."

[gentlenekomata]

[ Sparkling Water ]

She admits to enjoying a flute of champagne or few two, but Celica was very much capable of pacing herself for the night. After having one glass, she takes to the sparkling water, encountering a familiar face at the refreshments table.

"Oh my... Sakura, yes? It's been a while since we've spoken, hasn't it? I do hope you've been well."

Smiling, she gestures to the other woman's dress, "You certainly look amazing. That's such a cute dress!"

Enjoying her frizzy drink and spotting now and then some familiar faces, Sakura strolled around the dance hall aimlessly since she actually wanted to be invited to dance, but she did not have the courage to ask or take someone with her in the middle of the dance floor.

Yet, her endless stroll suddenly stopped as she encountered a beautiful and gracious woman waving her hand at her and approaching her with a warm familiarity and affability.

“Miss Celica!” how could she did not remember the past events, where the two of them enjoyed themselves in idle chitchat and pleasant activities. “It’s so good to see you doing well!” she was genuinely happy to embrace once again such a lovely person in her life and even more when she complimented her on her outfit.

“You are far more refined and elegant than me, Cel” she permitted a cute nickname, since she was a bit embarrassed and the formalities suddenly fall off as she felt vulnerable. “Your dress enhance your royalty and the colour really suits you” it remined her of the hues of a cherry blossoms and she utterly loved those kind of flowers.

She then remembered she was holding a glass filled with sparkling water and she thought it might be rude to not offer something to Celica as well. “Would you mind having a drink together? It’s good to share chitchats with a nice glass of something fresh to drink” and she giggled, offering to refill their glass with something new.

[revelale]

PORTRAIT OF A SAINT

@seraphiia | his church is all screaming, joy and peals of laughter. the windows aren't stained glass. some of the chairs have scratches from the children bored to tears with hearing about the divine one and the floor tiles were broken up in some places from where heavy pots had been dropped. ants were a constant problem, given to the sloppiness of some of his flock in eating the desserts brought by zeppole or dolce. the cathedral of garreg mach is different. seeing it for the first time is the one and only time that pandreo considers for even a second that the bacchanalia he invites in might be disrespectful to the divine one, after all.

how could he not, when he compared it to the reverential silence that echoes louder?

that doesn't mean he plans on revisiting how he runs the joint, awe aside. if this was all that was needed to sway him from his opinions, then those old fuddy duddies would've already had their way after parading him from one church to the next to lecture him on what all the proper traditions and ceremonies were the last time he'd heard them out. instead, pandreo quietly marvels at the vaulted ceilings, the large statues of saints that loom in the adjacent corridor and thinks of how it inspires him before his honeyed gaze falls to the girl—woman? he couldn't tell from behind—alone, knelt in prayer. a student from the looks of it.

was the cathedral beautiful enough to bring out the likes of them to morning prayer? or was it just that the academy was particularly pious?

"already?" he hums, head craning to look behind him and where the sun sat, prettily shining just beneath the horizon. "and before the first service, too! how devout." pandreo chuckles to himself, careful to make himself loud enough to be heard from behind as he approached. last thing he wanted to do was send her heart through its paces this early in the morning because he'd been careless. crossing his arms behind him and hovering a pew behind to create some distance, he says, "y'know, you aren't supposed to be in here without one of the clergy around, right?"

[nagaficat]

29. A memory they can’t let themselves forget

She forgot him once.

How small he had been when he was first placed in her arms. The way his hair smelled when she would kiss the top of his head. The strength of his grip as his tiny fist curled around her finger. The sound of his giggle when her hair fell forward to tickle his nose.

She forgot everything.

His coo. His cry. How peaceful he looked when he fell asleep against her chest. The gentle blue of his eyes that matched his father's. The first time he rolled over. The way her chest filled with pride as he started crawling.

Now she remembers.

She writes it down now as best she can, everything she can. She writes down what she remembers and what she is now learning about the man he's grown into. She cannot let herself forget him again, not one single moment.

[rafent]

20. A memory of someone who is deceased

20. a memory of someone who is deceased ( also asked by @floreix & @redmessenger )

"You're pretty, Rafal."

Side by side was a pair of brothers so identical only their voices and names told them apart. One as the laborer and another as the companionable observer. Scarcely acknowledging the words spoken to him, Rafal rose ever so slightly from his surveillance, scouring a low plant for berries and pushing aside the branches with his fingers. One had berries but they were rotted, no longer sweet. He tossed the entire sprig away with a rueful grimace and then said without looking:

"I'm a boy. And your brother."

"Um I wasn't—I meant on the inside."

Nil swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet. He watched Rafal with peculiar thoughts and observations brewing behind his eyes. Thinking of things that no-one else did- that didn’t even remotely enter Rafal’s mind. Or the mind of any other Fell Child. Kind, gentle, soft things.

"You have cold eyes, but you don't act cold. Every pile of berries and taproots you find, you give me half, even though they're hard to come by. Even though you like sweet things more than I do." His smile fluttered, delicate and shy, like a flower slowly unfurling its petals. "You don't call me a failure, either. Not like our other brothers."

Rafal didn't call Nil a failure because by the standards of truer Fell Dragons he was one himself. He shared his spoils of botany with the other boy because he was so skinny and weak he looked like he could keel over at any moment. It was pity. Nothing more. But instead of forming these half-hearted protests, instead Rafal's half-lidded eyes opened to their full breadth. Too old in a too young face. Scary, the look on Nil's face conveyed as Rafal turned around to train his undivided attention on him.

". . .and? What's your point?"

"W-Well, you're different is what I mean." Nil's skittish behavior had stopped, paving the way to an attitude rooted in confidence. He smiled without inhibition, sweetly honest and brimming with light. "Just like Nel you're kind, I love that about y—"

Rafal slapped his hand over that mouth. At once. "Shut up!" he fumed, face hot to the touch. "Don't say a single word more!"

But the damage was done. Kind? Kind? A disgusting quality that lied on the opposite end of strong and merciless and indomitable. Rafal could have made things right by spilling Nil's blood as freely as he'd blabbed his foolish words. But he didn't. His ears merely flushed pink and he whirled back around to his useless berry bush with rotting fruit. At that Nil maintained his smile. Knowing pretty-hearted Rafal wouldn't harm a hair on his brother, his other half, his first friend.

[firelles]

@seraphiia sent:

[ Charcuterie Board ] - She shouldn't be surprised that there were charcuterie boards served in a place where mice made up most of the servers, and although the thought of sampling cheese handled by them had been. Unsettling. To say the least... her curiosity ultimately won out.

Celica doubts anything could rival the richness of Macedon's pegasus cheese, but she certainly wasn't picky when it came to flavors...

She reaches for a slice of brie, turning to the woman next to her with a laugh. "If anyone were to have an appreciation for good cheeses, I suppose it would be rodents, wouldn't it?"

With Celica now at her nearest, Céline follows suit as she takes a small helping of her own. While this is not Celica's usual attire, the outfit she adorns suits her. Even so, she can easily recognize her despite the change of clothes— The way she speaks and holds herself is the same.

Céline lets a petite giggle slip past her lips at Celica's comment, bringing a hand up towards her face in turn. It is indeed odd to take delicacies from mice. She can't say she's ever done this before. "I wonder if this preparation is more for their indulgence than our own..!"

Her eyes trail back to the small helping, taking a silent breath as she brings it a smidge closer. "While I am dissuade by our chefs for the evening.. You are exactly right, Emblem Celica." A pause— The emblems couldn't do such things like enjoy tea or treats with one another. "O-Oh! My apologies for the slip of the tongue. I do hope you are enjoying your evening."