#timescursedmark

[theindigoflirt]

A voice, laden with smugness. "Hello, there. You may have heard of me... I'm the one who placed fourth in the White Heron Cup, the famous Owain Dark." Owain let out an airy sigh, haughty, noble sounding (downright Maribelle-like). "But fourth... I deserve better than that, you know." Owain put his hand to his forehead and leaned so far back in mock diva outrage that it was a feat of leg strength that he didn't fall down. "These, eheh, these philistines don't-- heh-- recognize... *true talent!*"

For Naga’s sake. Of course, he had to come to gloat. Inigo sniffs dismissively, trying to brush off his stuffy nose. So he’d gotten a little emotional performing mother’s dance in front of the school. Crying totally defeats the purpose of bringing joy to people through dancing; he fully accepts the ranking.

Still stings a little bit though.

(Distantly, he knows he’s being unfair to Owain. Inigo should a hundred percent listen to Cynthia more. Well, depending on the subject, but )

Inigo remains silent through his best friends' melodramatics. Plenty of snide remarks come to mind. True talent indeed. But instead of dignifying anything with a response, Inigo simply reaches out a hand and rests it on Owain’s shoulder. Pressure increases slowly until it’s enough to knock him off balance.

Owain fell with a (totally not at all) satisfying thud. Inigo has the decency to wince in both pain and remorse. “Oh, careful there, buddy! Here, let me help you up. All that dancing must’ve tired you out, huh?” Inigo moves to assist the great and powerful Owain Dark. “I never did offer my congratulations, did I?” 

[theofficersacademy]

Oooops I would like to reserve Rennac.

Rennac has been reserved!

You have one week (12/25) to submit your blog and application to the masterlist. Thank you for your reserve!

- Mod Ree

[theindigoflirt]

“ morons. ”

As if suffering at the hands of Lucina wasn’t enough, now Inigo has to endure comments from him. How did he even hear about the…incident? Inigo rests against the pillow, eyes closed, wishing he was back in his dorm instead of the infirmary. At least there he could ignore Owain, who stood next to the bed, arms crossed.

“Leave me to wallow in my misery, would you?” Inigo cracks open an eye, voice slightly distorted from the bandages covering his nose. He could barely handle Lucina and Cynthia’s disapproval; he didn’t need Owain in the mix as well.

Inigo winces as a fresh wave of pain lanced through his head, closing his eyes again. This was so, so much worse than every other rejection combined. A long time ago, back when they were still fighting a war and trying to survive, he’d promised himself to never try one of his lines on Lucina. She didn’t need to deal with his recycled words while she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. And, he’d always thought she’d react poorly.

But earlier, as blood roared through his ears and victory at actually beating her in the match soared in his chest, the words just tumbled out. Not even a recycled line, either! Something wholly unique and new.

He realizes now that there’s a reason for people sticking to the same phrases. “Don’t you have to go play with dolls or something?” Probably a little harsh, but seriously, couldn’t Owain leave him alone for once?

[theindigoflirt]

Ah, the lone wanderer calls for assessment, does he? The crackling of storm clouds on the horizon sounds, as the end of his journey draws near, the apocalyptic, crushing truth that will destroy this man's very soul, anathema to his very being...! (Look, I'm gonna be honest with you here, you know that you are NEVER going to ever get a girlfriend through your flirting and serial dating, right? Like, you've been rejected by... hundreds of girls probably? You gotta figure something else out, man.)

Inigo dropped his forkful of food. It clattered noisily against his plate, splattering sauce across the dining table. Okay, yes, he’d asked for an assessment, but not from Owain. Why did he always have to jump into a conversation? Blinking, Inigo closed his mouth. 

“Seriously? I just haven’t met the perfect woman yet! And when I do, she’ll be the only one I have eyes for!” Inigo grinned cheekily. “What, would you recommend I spend my days naming weapons and shouting them at innocent passerby? I’m afraid I don’t take advice from little boys.” 

With that, Inigo picked his fork back up and began eating. 

[amnesiac-pawn]

Finally, late in the evening, Morgan finds something left on his doorstep -- a sash, sufficiently tacky and bright yellow that there really can be little doubt as to who left it. There is a pattern in it, in purple -- a squiggle, made to mimic the patterns in a certain tactician's jacket (something Owain would never have done before meeting the Robin of the better timeline). There's a note with it: "Hey, man. I've really been letting you and the others down lately, but I'll fix that soon."

Morgan wouldn’t lie. He knew his cousin was around, but he hadn’t seen much of him in... well, weeks. Months? And yet, after all that time, Morgan hadn’t really... thought much about Owain. Admitting that fact made his heart hurt. Sorry, buddy—he doesn’t mean it! He’s just busy with schoolwork!

And there it was. Owain’s signature ( garish ) yellow.

After taking a moment to appreciate the surprisingly-high quality fabric of the sash, nimble fingers finally find the note accompanying it. “Oh, come on, ‘Wain,” he murmurs with a bittersweet smile. “You could never let me down.”

A mental note is made, then—within the next few days, Morgan would do his best to sort through his wardrobe and find something among the blacks and purples and blues of his clothes that matches his new sash, and wear it to teatime with his cousin.

[theindigoflirt]

Leaning against the Inigo's doorway, Owain's mood is a lot more serious than the last time they spoke. "Uh..." Owain sighs and exhales. "Hey, man, I'm not here to chew you out like back with the thing with Lucina, but, uh..." Owain paused for a moment, and then shrugged helplessly. "You've got to stop getting into these incidents. It's only going to get more and more, y'know..." he searched for the word, "self-destructive, I guess. I guess I just get a little worried about it?"

A soft approach breaks the remnants of Inigo’s concentration. The words on the page weren’t really making sense anyway; explanations of magical theory and how to channel the energy sliding right past his tired eyes. 

Hinges creak softly. Owain starts talking. Inigo looks up from his seat on the floor, back resting against his bed. He lowers one leg, letting the book slide to the carpet. He listens to his friend’s concerns. No sarcastic comeback rises in the back of his injured throat. 

Self-destructive. True; he really hadn’t been himself lately, had he? Blowing up at Cynthia, trying stupid one-liners on Lucina, and fistfighting Laurent in front of half the school. (That last one was a long time coming though. Tensions were always high between them). 

Inigo nods slowly. “To be fair, I deserved to be chewed out for that. I’m not...I’m not trying to be self-destructive.” Sighing, he begins to fidget with his earring. “But I have been allowing my emotions to get the better of me. Sorry for causing you all to worry.” It’s his turn to shrug. “So much for doing better, eh? Seriously though. I think I’ve got it all out of my system now.” Inigo’s mouth curls into a reflexive smile. “Thanks for stopping by, Owain.” 

[exalteye]

Owain had been much too shy to actually give Lucina a gift in person before properly having a good conversation with her to welcome her back, quite aware of how incredibly awkward it would be to walk up and hand her something after a year, he'd left a gift for her somewhere she could easily find it. Though the box just contained a candied apple, the box itself was festooned with various hand-crafted colorful paper designs, among which were the brand of Ylisse, making the sender fairly obvious.

Returning to her room after yet another night of festivities (Lucina would never admit this aloud–but she was rather glad the chaos was coming to an end. It was all a bit…much), she nearly stepped on the neatly wrapped package placed gently in front of her door. 

Frowning, she crouched to inspect it closer, noticing repeated brand of Ylisse that decorated the gift. “Owain…” she smiled slightly, wishing her cousin had come to deliver it himself but…all in good time, she supposed. He was likely out celebrating with his friends; and now, they had plenty of time to be together–no pressures of war. 

She picked up the box, heading into her room. Opening it delicately, so as not to destroy any of the carefully-crafted decorations, her grin widened at the treat nestled inside. She shook her head, closing it back up for now (she’d enjoy it more when she wasn’t already stuffed full of sugar), gently scolding Owain for his silly actions–honestly, why hadn’t he just come greet her himself? Well, she’d give him an earful when she finally caught up with him.