#vedrfolnr

[flowerofgoneril]

The Hangover Part IV--forest team c

This wasn't the first time Hilda woke up from a strange nightmare after drinking in a place that she definitely didn't remember falling asleep in. And it wasn't the first time she woke up from a party with a splitting headache and the urge to purge everything from her stomach either. It was, honestly, pretty expected.

"Oof, Hilda, what did you end up drinking last night?" she muttered to herself as she stretched and yawned. It must have been a lot for her to have fallen asleep so soundly in the grass. That's where the dirt was! She stood, brushed off her uniform, and straightened her hair as best she could--the important things--before taking in her surroundings.

Lucina was here too? That was strange. She hadn't joined in on the fun the night before. It wasn't something she should complain about though. At least someone might be able to shed a bit of light on where they were.

The glowing, aquamarine embroidery cought Hilda's eye and she eagerly picked the strange bag up to inspect it. Her fingers ran over the material and she was surprised that she didn't recognize what it could be made from. She'd never call herself an expert in anything but she certainly enjoyed crafting a variety of accessories enough that she'd have thought she'd at least be able to identify it. "Hey, this doesn't belong to any of you, right? It's super cute! Finders keepers, right?"

@vedrfolnr @perfectionist-prince @futuresking

[argentbowman]

Hunter and Prey.

@lyfjqberg @vedrfolnr @alfvangr

Milo. If one were to ask Klein for his opinion in private, with absolute certainty of no unwelcome ears hearing them, he would say without much hesitation that that guard has suspicious written all over him. But, he knows better than to speak of it out loud.

So instead, he sneaks out with a few others, venturing deep into the woods for an exploration of their own. Without telling the guy, naturally.

The forest is quiet, few sounds other than the barely audible humming of leaves and their steps disturbing the silence. Klein cannot quite say whether he finds it peaceful or ominous, but he supposes that there is little use in contemplating such things too much at the moment.

The same, he thinks to himself, could be said for the big mission overall. He is still very much a newcomer in Fodlan, and has but a vague idea of the Relics and their importance. How fitting would it be to compare them to the weapons wielded by the Eight Legends? There are similarities he could think of, but... perhaps he is making too many assumptions.

...No point in getting distracting with useless thoughts. Back to the situation at hand; he stops next to a large tree, looking around. Something he spots causes him to pause for a moment before he turns to the others, his expression grim. “I see something like a wolf den ahead of us... I think there’s blood there, though. Do we want to try and take a closer look?”

[extenebris]

ψ someone they consider a rival or who considers them a rival ;^D

Relationship Headcanons | accepting

This is all headcanon, since there’s no basis for any of this anywhere in Thracia’s script.

Salem is a passive individual. Things happen to him. He follows orders. That’s it. He isn’t ambitious, and has little to no (cultivated) drive to climb to the “top” of anything. So he has no reason to be competitive. Other people exist around him in more or less neutral spheres, and Salem prefers not to get that heavily involved with anyone. He keeps his head down, so I doubt anyone else would see him as a rival either.

Until TOA gets a Pan (it will never happen, but I beg the universe anyway), my headcanon is that Salem was one of Pan’s many lovers. Even after going their separate ways in the current verse, Salem still maintains romantic feelings for Pan, but without the accompaniment of jealousy. He never viewed Pan’s other conquests as rivals, nor did he feel that he had to compete for Pan’s attention during his time with the Dandelion gang. It was simply a thing that happened. On the other hand, Pan tells Salem in canon that he’s “always had a soft spot for [him]”, so it’s possible that others might have been jealous of Salem in this regard. Salem would not have paid them much mind though.

[arcstral]

∅ >:3c

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄  𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍:     accepting!     @vedrfolnr

𝑉𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑎.

               ❛     𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐎𝐍𝐄   𝐒𝐎   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆,   Veronica has a sharp way with words that can only foment theories about her upbringing. Sometimes, there is even a certain look to her eyes that speaks of loneliness far beyond fathoming. I often wonder, then, if she has experienced war or loss to the degree that many have, and find the thought quite saddening.     ❜

               ❛     She says that she does not need protection, but all the same, I intend to look out for her. The academy’s curriculum is quite rigorous even for the older boys and girls and there are a number of dangerous missions alongside. This would not merely be for her benefit, but also for my own. In order to quell my worries..     ❜

[minorindech]

sword of doubt

@vedrfolnr {+1 Sword}

“Um...maybe this is a bad idea after all.

Bernadetta did not like swords. If she could, she would stay as far away from swords as possible. After all, swords were used to hurt people! And, she supposed, protect some people too but protecting people also involved hurting other people and Bernadetta didn’t like the idea of something being put in her hands with the express purpose of hurting people! Sure, she used her bow but that was different because...because it was different!

So when they set up a stand of swords and told the students to just try it, Bernadetta was understandably reluctant to pick up one of the strange looking blades that were laid out before them.

There was something...off about the weapons. Or at least, Bernie thought so. While other students were off studying the blade, she was tending to her plants or making little crafts...but the way the swords glowed slightly, or appeared to be made out of strange materials couldn’t be natural, could it? After all, that one even looked like candy!

Bernadetta frowned and then slowly glanced at the other student next to her. What...oh dear, what was her name again? There were so many students. Bernadetta tried not to groan too loudly.

“So, uh...are we supposed to wait for somebody or do we just...take one?”

[dragon-kiddos]

[Caramel Onion] Veronica's face is a practiced neutral, the stony expression she wears proving a formidable mask to the turbulent emotions she held underneath. The caramel coating shines copper underneath the spring sunlight as the Emblian heir walks towards Kana. Hands firmly extend the 'treat' to him, nary a tremble in her fingers. "Someone had given this to me, but I don't want it. Take it from me, won't you?"

Floralia 2020 Asks! || Caramel Onion!

Tricks aren’t oft played on the younger students, not to mention on strangers. So far, no one had dared to be unkind to Kana. As such, he was entirely unsuspecting when a new friend approached with a gift.

“You don’t want it? Sure, I can take it! Thank you, miss!” 

With a grin, he takes the caramel-covered treat from her hands and brings it up to his lips. Just before he’s about to take a bite, he breathes in, and—

That doesn’t smell like an apple.

Eyes squinting slightly, he moves in to take a careful bite, only for an expression of pure horror to cross his face. He didn’t even taste the onion, but could smell it distinctly the moment his teeth pierced the skin. Dropping the “treat” to the ground, Kana makes a series of bleh and eugh noises, spitting in an attempt to clear his violated mouth. 

“You, miss,” he huffs, “are not very nice! Not very nice at all!”

[arcstral]

⚔️️ SHOW ME HOW GRANDPA FALCHION BASHES THOSE KNEES!!!!!!!!

     𝐂  𝐎  𝐌  𝐁  𝐀  𝐓     𝐒 𝐓 𝐘 𝐋 𝐄     —     ♕   .   ◦

               Funny that you should speak of knees, ohoho!  :)

               Though Marth is well-adapted to combat with a wide range of enemies as war demands, he was originally more acclimated to fighting opponents much older and stronger than himself. His first introduction to war came at age fourteen, during Gra’s traitorous siege of Altea. Being much smaller than most of his enemies, but no less expected to hold his own, he was taught a few tricks by his knights to accommodate his physical disadvantages.

               Their advice had seen his blade dug into thighs and knees, areas that did not denote sportsmanship but sat most comfortably within a young boy’s reach. He even dispensed a few hard donkey kicks below the belt, here and there. No blow is too low if it guarantees their prince a greater chance on the battlefield, they said, and Marth had taken their words to heart in the name of his survival.

               Being a model prince means that his sense of honor usually extends to his battles, but those unsavory tricks of the past haven’t become totally obsolete. Pirates and brigands by comparison know no honor and they’d jam two fingers into his eyes if the chance arises. This is something he understands. If Marth finds himself in a nasty pinch and somehow disarmed of his sword by such enemies, he figures his knuckles or the hard toe of his boot will work just as well. Although, he would naturally prefer that it not come to that.

[arcstral]

"Here," Veronica hands him a flimsy bracelet, its azure-gold twine clumsily braided together to form a loose wrist band. Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper when she speaks. The princess' eyes tack themselves onto the ground, noticeably avoiding Marth's gaze. She lets out a long and drawn out sigh. "the gold is for good fortune, the blue is for... loyalty. I thought someone like you might enjoy this sort of thing."

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀.

               𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑   𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆   𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄   𝐇𝐈𝐒   first war or shortly after it, a greater lifetime of milk and honey has seen more offerings placed in his royal hand than what it could reasonably hold. Panes of gold and silver hammered into delicate trinkets, or enameled beakers crafted into being by the finest of glass wrights.. Alongside precious stones unearthed from all four corners of his continent. Between them all, one could say that the Altean prince was no stranger to the lap of luxury; the untold gifts it entailed.

               But even then, their value couldn’t compare a hundredfold to a small, shoddily constructed bracelet with scraggly ends. Pooling in the center of his palm by the generosity of a well-intentioned young girl.

               Lowered onto a knee in order to level their faces, a growing smile threatened to collapse his composure at the realization that he was being fashioned into the rare recipient of an even rarer, handmade gift. His head bobbed in encouraging nods, particularly at the flightiness to her gaze as it swerved away from his and found comfort in the ground.

               “It’s wonderful, Veronica! I take it you’ve placed a lot of thought into the creation. It’s certainly clear to see,” he immediately said, timed perfectly with the short lull following her words. Left too long without an answer and any child’s confidence could be devastatingly halved, particularly in the case of a youth so unused to giving as Veronica.

               Without prompting, he slipped his fingers through the noose of the bracelet-a cinching fit at best, though the fact was tactfully ignored-before flipping his wrist this way and that with an admiring gaze.

               “Goodness.. How did you know these were my favorite colors as well?” Largely unthinking; instinct itself puppeted the joints of his hand as Marth pressed it kindly to the top of Veronica's smooth tawny head. Stroking downwards a few times, just like how had done for another big-hearted little girl. “I hope it brings you no shame to give me this, young lady, because I couldn’t imagine anything better.”