#vonvestra

[minorindech]

"I hear you were bested by a cleric," Hubert observes. He sits on a cot near Bernadetta's, left arm extended to the side as a medic sets to work on his burns. Disappointment is the set of his lips into a line, and nothing more. Then his brow furrows as he recalls another rumor. "And you tried to fight Linhardt as well?"

The observation is simple, to the point, and factual, like Hubert is in most things. Also like Hubert, it feels like an unexpected knife in the dark of the tent.

Bernadetta sucks in a sharp breath as she flinches in the silence that follows. Her gaze remains downward as she sits on her own cot. She couldn’t raise her head if she wanted to, and instead focuses on her bandaged arms and the peeks of pink skin she can see.

This was the part she’d been dreading, even more than the fighting. The reaction to how she’d done. Because she’d done terribly, and she was supposed to be representing her house, the empire, Lady Edelgard and she’d done horrible and the fear of her father’s hypothetical appearance had been so much of a distraction she’d completely forgotten the fear of her own housemates was so much more dangerous.

Bernadetta struggles to swallow past the familiar rising lump in her throat. Was he mad at her? He was probably mad at her. Useless Bernadetta had made all the Eagles look stupid by not only losing but losing first and they were wasting their time on her and if they didn’t kill her they were definitely going to kick her out of the Eagles for being such a horrible and useless dead weight and no house was going to want Bernadetta von Loser who got knocked out first and they were probably going to tie rocks to her ankles and toss her off the highest point of the monastery to expel her and

“I’m sorry!” Bernadetta sobs, hands flying up to cover her face. She curled inwards on herself. She didn’t want to look she didn’t want to look she didn’t want to look.

“P-please don’t kick me out of the Eagles! I-I’ll do better n-next time I sw-swear!” Her breathing is a rapid, panicked mess as she struggles to talk. “I-I can’t go home to my father, especially not if he hears about wha-at happened with Lin-Linhardt! He’s gunna kill me!”

[halfjalar-archive]

As Edelgard had requested, Hubert conveyed her rallying message to the rest of the remaining Eagles. They are the underdogs in this competition, and Hubert knows that brute force alone won't pull them ahead. They need a strategy, but he realizes that their placement is also unfavorable, as the Deer and Lions both have the advantage of terrain. Then a snap from a branch. Not expecting an enemy so far behind enemy lines, he fires a spell into the underbrush. [Roll: 3+2 [+dex], -0HP, 3/3HP]

As the second round of the battle begins, Azelle chooses to forgo Herleifr and let his horse get some rest, going it on foot from now on. While he may lose out on fast mobility, it also has its advantages, as he ventures behind enemy lines to asses the situation.

He spots the second in command of the Black Eagles, and hesitates; that is the House in which he has, so far, held fewest lectures, and thus he is not quite as familiar with its students. The tall, black-haired man, however, emanates an aura that the Velthomer, to his displeasure, recognizes - 

          - the aura that he has, ever since arriving in Fodlan, tried to get himself familiar with and used to, repeating, like a mantra, that it is not evil, it is not evil, Salem showed you it is not evil -

A branch snaps under a careless step and the student instinctively responds with a spell fired in his general direction.

Miss; Azelle HP: 3 → 3

It looks like he attacked before actually seeing Azelle, as the strike is not aimed particularly well and the redhead avoids it just fine with a quick jump to the side, but even so, he feels his hairs standing on end.

Yep, that was Dark magic alright.

          - it is not evil, it is not evil, it is not evil - 

He straightens himself up, a deeper breath helping him clear his thoughts and gather himself back together. A quick incantation, uttered in his mind rather than out loud, summons a flame to him. An ever so faint smile creases his lips as he feels the air temperature around him rise a little.

“My, I’ve been spotted. Oh well”, he says, attempting (and likely, at least partially, failing) to sound casual, before launching his own spell at his newfound opponent.

Roll: 20, crit. Atk boon. Predicted damage: 2.5

...He may have overdone it a little.

That or he got more nervous from meeting a Dark Mage in battle than he thought he would.

...Well. Class is in session, either way.

[jehannanmage]

Hubert prefers to stay to the back, scoping out openings in the enemy lines and conveying them to the rest of his battalion. Or taking advantage of them himself. "We've fought alongside one another so frequently lately that I almost forgot which house has your loyalty," he says in lieu of a greeting, a smirk painting his lips as darkness begins to gather into his hand. "Let's see just how you've come with your dark magic then." [Attack roll: 14, -1HP] [Hubert's HP 3/3]

It’s that time of year again! (Sort of again. He doesn’t stop to think about the weird memories but not-memories anymore.)

He can’t help being terribly excited. He remembers struggling through this once before. How he’d made it far, he has no idea, but he’s poised to do better now. Ewan feels the surety, the buzz of confidence and control at his fingertips.

So when Hubert’s greeting comes alongside a blast of magic (magic whose taste is so familiar now he wonders at how it’s taken him so long to realize he has an affinity for it), he grins and lets fly his own spell, lances of darkness  materializing and then-- “Oof!”

He’s not sure where the dark spikes spell landed, but he suspects he’s got other things to worry about as he winces, gritting his teeth, and looks up for the next attack.

[Attack roll: 3. Miss.] [Ewan’s HP: 2.5/4]

[making-dough]

♔ An authority figure they get along with

relationship memes - open

♠  ~ Oh, that’s Hector easily. Farina’s a free spirit who doesn’t really like authority figures, for the most part. All that talk of rules and duties tend towards making her feel all 'cramped and uncomfortable’. But Hector, on the other hand, he’s different than most of her old bosses, which completely threw her off for a bit. He’d mostly just grumble but she can totally do her own thing and even completely scam him and she’ll still get away with it. He’s kinda like the cool boss, ahahahah. 

[flowerofgoneril]

🎄 [// making up for the pocky day ask I never answered]

Hilda entered the library with a skip in her step and a sprig of mistletoe held behind her back. It was that time of year again and she wasn't about to wait until Claude happened to be standing under some at the same time she was passing by. Nope, this year she was going to find him and provide the berries herself. All she had to do was check his usual haunts and find him. The library was the first stop on her list.

Her house leader was nowhere to be found but off in the corner, at a table by himself sat Hubert. Hilda's pink lips curled into a devious grin. She was going to get her throat slit in her sleep for this for sure but it would absolutely be worth it to break through that perfectly maintained composure of his.

She held the sprig of mistletoe over his head with a giggle. "Aw look, Hubert! Mistletoe!" And with that, she leaned in and kissed his lips. She lingered, daring him to keep the kiss going.

[displaced-tactician]

The B-Files || Morgan and Hubert

This was Morgan’s... second time here. At least according to her tomes. It was well known that Brigid was part of the Empire... essentially right? Morgan couldn’t see the relationship as anything other than a take over of sorts even if it was worded differently in the books. With everything Morgan wrote down in the missing 7 months she knew there would be a whole treasure trove of things here. When she heard of the local shaman trying to cure her cursed wife though, that caught her interest. 

If only Tharja were here. She’d be able to identify anything related to curses. But Morgan had the next best thing. Another dark, dower, gloomy, and borderline creepy individual named Hubert. In other words, a close enough Tharja replacement.

She trotted around the capitol looking for the tall shadow and once she found him, she made a bee line for him.

“Hubert!” She called out with a level of excitement in her voice. Was she excited? Yes! Was it because she’s get to hang out with Hubert? Partially. Mostly it was because being with Hubert tended to be hilarious and full of mysterious intrigue. 

“Help me Hubert von Vestra! You’re.... my only immediately available hope.” She pleaded as she walked up to him.

“I had some others in mind but they’re not here now so... you know. Here you are. Want to tag along and help me investigate some weird stuff going on?” Morgan asked.

@vonvestra

[theofficersacademy]

Time to commit. One reservation for Berkut, RIGHTFUL heir to Rigel’s throne, please. ;)

Berkut has been reserved!

You have one week (8/14) to submit your blog and application to the Masterlist. Thank you for your reserve!

- Mod Bren

[boundlesshart]

‘tis the sea, son

trapped on a boat with hubert @vonvestra (+1 any weapon)

“Hubert, this is Roxane. Don’t worry, she’s trained. Roxy, meet Hubert. He’s also trained.” Satisfied with the brief introduction, Claude goes on ahead to meet with the incredulous harbormaster. Roxane flicks her tongue curiously at Hubert’s mouth and hands, hoping for any remnants of the hearty breakfast they had earlier.

Of course, the first answers that the harbormaster give him to his plan are “No” and “Absolutely Not”. When reason won’t work, Claude tries something new. He gestures to Hubert behind him, proclaiming that Hubert von Vestra, bodyguard of the Imperial Princess Edelgard von Hresvelg, is here on her orders to ensure his enjoyment and protection on his trip in Enbarr (definitely not chaperoning). And wouldn’t it be a shame, for the princess’ guest to be treated like this, never mind the heir to the Leicester Alliance?

–

After years of being one of many Almyran princes, the most scorned of them all to boot, it feels good to be able to pull rank and have it mean something for once. 

There’s a skip in Claude’s step as he returns to the boat with the last of the supplies, an extra quiver of arrows and more rope just in case. “Do you get seasick, Hubert?” he asks innocently, hoping for a rise out of him as well. He steps into their little “row” boat, rocking the vessel without much concern as he triple checks the knot on the front. “We shouldn’t be out on the ocean for too long. Hopefully. And if we do run into trouble, we’ve got Roxy to protect us.”

Claude tugs once on the rope, then looks over to the wyvern in question, perched above the docks. The long rope leads to a pole grasped in her talons. Roxanne is still young, too small to be ridden without injury, but she’s more than capable of carrying things from place to place. How hard could towing along a boat be?

Standing on the boat, with all their supplies tucked away, there’s only one thing left to do. Claude cups his hands around his mouth and shouts his order, “Let’s go!” He watches in awe, as if for the first time and not the thousandth, as Roxane spreads her wings and takes to the skies with grace. She cries out a greeting as she soars past the boat. Claude watches her, of course, and not the rope as it gets pulled forward, forward, before the line goes taut and the boat suddenly lurches as it’s pulled out of the docks. Claude stumbles, suddenly unbalanced–he falls, but he manages to brace himself on the side of the boat before going overboard.