NO MERCY TO THE DEFIANT.

priv. travant from FE4/FE5 mercenary living in abyss

[thracianblood]

"Heh heh heh... Welcome, rebel scum. I am Travant. Remember this well: a final gift from the depths of the inferno!"

RP blog of Travant from FE4-FE5, written by taro. Affiliated with The Officer's Academy.

STATS.    /     MUN.    /    DOSSIER.    /    THREAD TRACKER.

Portrayal Notes under the cut!

Revived 3 years after his death, Travant has heard vague rumors of the fate of the Thracian peninsula since coming back to life, but has effectively chosen to stay out of the limelight as he believes he has already served his role in its unification. Unable to return to Jugdral due to his less-than-stellar reputation when he was king, yet with his goal for Thracia realized, he has since journeyed as an ordinary mercenary to figure out his next purpose in life.

GENERAL

Travant can be cold, blunt, rude, or all of the above at times. His character is intentionally morally grey and he’s prone to obfuscating his true feelings, resulting in unreliable narration. In other words, some replies could either be him playing up his villainy for the sake of appearances, or he just plainly hates you, everyone and everything. Who knows! You know how it is – muse’s thoughts and opinions don’t equal the mun’s and all that.

Following up on the previous point, if any muns are uncomfortable with Travant potentially making mean-spirited comments in narration and / or in spoken dialogue towards their muse(s), please let me know and I’ll gladly tone down his attitude. Non-Jugdral muses should have an easier time interacting with him than those he recognizes from Jugdral.

I’ll be following the translations of Lil' Nordion and Lil' Manster for FE4/FE5 respectively. Bits and pieces of the Oosawa manga might be referenced, but his portrayal is still largely based on in-game canon.

This muse is a Certified Unapologetic War Criminal™ who’s fully aware of what he’s done. In the event it gets brought up in conversation, I’ll be tagging any replies that have potentially triggering content. Interactions with him might reference murder, kidnapping, blackmail, threats or depictions of violence. 

Also! I’m new to Jugdral as a whole, so please bear with me as some finer lore / gameplay details may be lost on me. I don’t mind spoilers at all. 

SHIPPING

First of all, if shipping a muse with Travant ever crossed your mind, you’re very brave. He is a walking red flag, so I don’t expect any shipping to take place unless there’s a strong reason to compel me to, whether it’s an unexpected chemistry or an interesting dynamic.

That’s not to say I discourage any playful interactions. He's very attractive given he doesn't open his mouth and start talking unless you're into that. You’re fully allowed to flirt with him if your muse would like a quick and easy way to piss him off.

NSFW

In a similar vein to my Shipping guidelines, I’m normally very picky with NSFW themes and would usually only write sexual interactions if I know the mun well OOC. 

[warpaway]

i can turn anything into my hyperfixation just try me

wk 1 || ethereal ball 2026

[warpaway]

“excellent!” linhardt replies.  he steps aside, at what he assumes is a fair distance for a… photograph, was it called? 

they would, naturally, still like the photograph to look good, so they pose appropriately before raising their hand and conjuring their crest.  the shape of cethleann rises from linhardt's palm, floating in gentle green magic.

“ready when you are,” he calls to travant.

[thracianblood]

Without much fanfare or warning, he presses the button on the camera. Almost instantaneously, it dispenses a piece of paper, all dark and blotted out. A little bit of waiting will tell if Linhardt's theory holds any weight.

If only Thracia had been able to afford such an invention, then it would've saved him the time and effort standing still for portraits... Then again, there were many other opportunities that would be infinitely more important to invest into than a measly device.

"Well? Is it according to your expectations?" With his thumb holding the little square by the corner, he holds it out for the boy to examine.

[thracianblood]

the lion does not concern himself with what the haters say

MISSION BOARD: Aphotic - Foreign Wares

[rigelprinceofdespair]

Berkut couldn't help but smirk as he nodded. That did sound like an excellent way to deal with this merchant. Watching as Travant plans, he can't help but mentally take some notes about how the man is forming the plan.

"Fear can be useful..." Nodding along, the student thinks over what to do. "That does leave us with few options. We both insulted the man to his face, so he may not listen to us. Though with his ilk, honestly if we flash enough gold in his face he'd probably come scrambling regardless. Not like he's going to keep what we offer anyway." The smirk widens slightly. "Perhaps that may be the best method. Rely on the merchants natural greed. You insulted his goods more openly, so perhaps I could go to him, flash gold, say that I've changed my mind about some of his merchandise. That I'm perhaps interested in looking at some of his 'rare' pieces, but in a private room so that we're not disturbed by... others this time. Let his own foolishness lure him into the trap. I do have enough saved up that I believe it would entice him to meet with me."

The offer was made, as Berkut waited to see what Travant would say. It felt like a good plan, and would only be more amusing to see the merchants face when his own greed dragged him down.

[thracianblood]

Would it really be as simple as the boy suggests? It isn't as if he doesn't believe him, no, but it would be risky to assume a merchant would be more idiotic than they actually were... if they were smart to begin with, that is. Seeing how confident that man is in his ability to get away with something this heinous, Berkut might be onto something.

"If you're confident you can pull it off..." He mumbles. "I wouldn't be surprised if someone like him were to underestimate someone younger. But if it doesn't work for whatever reason, then I'll simply deal with him myself."

After giving a brief sideways glance, Travant's smirk drops and he pulls a look of shock, betrayal and disgust. They have already discussed so much, so it is only natural that he give the boy a head start.

With a scoff, he says with a voice just loud enough to be overheard, "What did you just say? Are you really so naive to think that those pieces of shelf-filler are worth anything? Handing your coin will only encourage them to continue."

... The game starts now.

[luminousrider]

Do they have commissary in Thracian prisons?

EHW Blue Team Week 3

[luminousrider]

She closes her eyes. It would be easy to turn back to face him and snap that this is his fault. That these mercenaries were following his example, choosing to fight and die rather than accept a changing world just like their former king.

She doesn't.

She notices the way he focuses on his breaths. He's trying. She thinks. He doesn't explicitly blame her for what happened either. Not that he needed to. She was able to place that burden on her shoulders without anyone else's influence.

"It was a knight from Leonster who made sure it was possible that we apprehend them. Without his help, I'm not sure we could have done it. Even after I was forced to retreat, he and Maria still respected my wishes to take as many alive as we could."

Altena turns from the window to face her father. "They're being held here in the dungeons. I was able to talk to one of them earlier. He was just a kid, father. Younger than I was when you first let me enter a real battle and still ready to kill me." She offers a weak smile. "He didn't. But he was the reason I had to retreat. I'd like to think we might have gotten through to him even if only a little. We were able to bring in their commander too. I don't know how much he'd listen to me but with you there, too..."

She gives her father a look. As much as she'd love to visit the places in Thracia they used to travel to together now that they're both here again, she has been avoiding him. A man named Gutierre who has an uncanny resemblance to the late King of Thracia could be written off as coincidence. If that man were to appear at the side of the late king's daughter, suspicion might start to be raised. "You might want to put up a hood or something. At least until we've made it past the knights. They had Maria and I deliver food to one of the other prisoners. I'd like to do the same for this man."

[thracianblood]

He listens as she explains the situation at hand, the frown still lingering on his face. Travant had thought that if he gave in during that battle years ago, their people wouldn't have to fight so desperately. But perhaps he is the naive one to think that such results would come so easily. A Thracian's pride would never falter even if their ruler had fallen.

"A kid entering the ranks? Hmph..." Did they really think they would be able to make a difference with their numbers? It is hard for him to be biased against his own men even when he's of the opposing side, but the lack of proper tactics worries him. Some people are difficult to change...

But maybe it's because he wants them to have a better future for themselves, that he feels the need to try at the very least. He cannot let his death go in vain.

"That won't be an issue. Worst case scenario, I snatch one of the cloths off a cot and hide myself that way."

It feels strange walking in this castle again, stripped of any royal authority – or any authority, actually. To every Leonster and Thracian soldier, he's just an ordinary man with no stakes. Even stranger to be walking besides Altena, who has all the power to not let Travant get as involved in this as he is now.

"I must say... What makes you think I'd be better at convincing them than you? Would someone really be swayed just because I'm a spitting image of their king?" One of them had tried to convince him to join this rebellion, he supposes...

[thracianblood]

this isn't very boy maths of you

MISSION BOARD: Herald - Bow +1

[thracianblood]

Now who in their right mind would want this much food when just about every animal is hibernating in this weather? Do they have no respect for the hunters' precious time?

Scrounging up for scraps, stealing a kill or two meant for his client… It isn't a code of survival he particularly enjoys, but the slow trickle of work this season and the lack of coin tempts him into the same old habits that he'd been trying to avoid. He knows how those nobles work anyway – enjoying a lavish, bountiful feast while throwing away the leftovers they don't bother to preserve. If they'd rather be wasteful, then he'd rather take the excess for himself in advance instead of eating from their hands like a stray dog.

His eyes skim through their catch so far, all laying helplessly bound up. The person assigned to him, whom he vaguely remembers from the battle in Grannvale, had made admittedly good work in scouting the area around them. Clearly not the stupid type, to his chagrin, but it won't stop the Thracian from trying.

All that needs to happen is for them to wrap up, bring it back… and convince him that they don't need the extra meat.

"One more, and we return to town," he decides. "The sun will set soon."

[ @petalblight ]

[wolfhednn]

———　( modern au )　how do they feel about enabling location sharing on their phone with their partner? family? close friends?

dash game! reblog and include your muse's answer in the tags!

[thelightofcreation]

this is not a trap

[thelightofcreation]

“I don’t mind helping.” Sephiran replies easily, making his way up to the front door. He doesn't enter, at first, choosing instead to peer inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust. It’s dark, as expected, and dusty, though that which decorated the floor itself has since been disturbed by the many who have similarly poked about, making entry easier. Little remains on the shelves that he could see- though perhaps to be expected, that even the superstitious could find enough courage to grab a few valuables long before the story had spread.

It’s certainly a place that lives up to its reputation- filtered light from rooms beyond gives the hall an eerie glow. Sephiran, himself, can’t see much beyond what the threshold reveals; no other source of light was bright enough to illuminate the contents of the building.

It wasn’t too much of a concern, however, to him at least. Perhaps this man had prepared in advance, bringing a Torch staff or something to light the interior. Or perhaps they could fumble around in the dark for some time and leave. He wasn’t busy.

“What are you searching for, here? I suspect most of the valuables have already been long stolen.”

[thracianblood]

To use or not to use his carefully conserved fire starters... In truth, he could just pretend to care about the job and display the bare minimum effort in searching for this heirloom. If this house had truly been scrubbed front to back, then it'd be pointless to stick around.

But if that truly were the case, then why does that stranger bother to be here at all? Maybe this dilapidated mansion is important to him in one way or another. Or maybe he wants some other person to do the dirty work for him — to scrape up whatever valuables do remain here, if any. If it turns out that the heirloom does exist, and that it proves useful to Travant, then having a third party try to snatch it up for their own purposes would be terribly inconvenient.

"An old lady had lost one of her belongings, said her eyesight is far too poor to navigate this place. I believe whatever she's lost is more valuable in sentiment than gold..." If only she'd tell him what exactly it is so that he wouldn't have to waste time figuring it out in front of a stranger. He squints at the crevice between the nearest drawer and the wall, though it is far too dark to make out any possible secret compartments. The darkness nearly consumes him when he steps further, having to use his mind's eye and a bit of patting around to reach one of the doorways.

"... She said that she used to wear it in her youth. If she's so certain that it's still here, then it can't be a piece of jewelry."

Perhaps it would be better to check upstairs, but he doesn't feel the need to put that much effort yet. Not in this darkness, anyway.

[thracianblood]

a penny for your silence

MISSION BOARD: Infamous - Gauntlets +1

[deflere]

“…” The destruction wrecked tells Zasha more than the man ever would, and he isn't interested in his excuses, either. Eyes scan over the trail of destruction- shattered glass and metal scraps all across the ground. It didn’t matter if it was the flimsiest material known to man, the monastery pays him to keep an eye on it, either way.

Maybe the knights were a more irresponsible bunch than he had originally thought, if someone thinks it’ll be that easy to pay off one of their members. He was clearly relaxed about the whole affair, at least- playing with the evidence of his havoc right in front of him.

Or maybe Zasha just doesn't look the part. A fair observation, if so.

“I’m not stupid.” Is his response, blunt. “If I sell these parts, it’ll get traced back to me- and I’m not taking the fall for you.”

[thracianblood]

Traced back. Taking the fall.

So he does have stake in this monastery.

It's unfortunate that this one's not foolish, but at least he knows a tad more about him.

"You do have a striking appearance... I can't imagine there are many here who can fly like you can." Travant forgoes a rebuttal, at least for now. The winged man's words might sound like a blunt refusal, but he can see that he doesn't deny the act of selling another's property as a whole from a moral standpoint. Meaning, there is still room to convince him. He just needs a method that's more logically sound to this man.

Slowly, he takes out a pouch of coins, and not-so-subtly he offers, "Well, I'm not above giving up some of my pay if that's what concerns you. Does that sound more enticing?"

[bibliophiliacs]

paint me like one of your thracian girls.

mission-board: infamous | flying +1 | miriel // travant

[bibliophiliacs]

   Lucky she was, that someone was willing to abide by what most may consider an absurd request. And ever so willing to get right to working, at that. Miriel was pleased that she needn’t explain herself to any unnecessary sort of degree. 

   The matter of what her pose had to be was a question unlike any other. An experienced scientist should have answers to these sorts of questions welcomed and ready at the back of her mind. Yet, uncharacteristically, Miriel met with nothing in immediate response. Perhaps this exercise itself would be something noteworthy in her research. 

   A few more moments of quiet pondering, until, wordlessly, Miriel assumes a pose reminiscent of a perched gargoyle. It was something simple, and easy for her to assume as well. 

   Others within the room gave idle stares, taking into question the confidence of the mage to assume such a pose so readily. Or even judging her choice as far too divorced from what a wyvern may assume. Whatever the case may have been, Miriel hardly gave a damn, all she needed to do was present herself as the best possible subject for he who would paint her. 

   “Would this gargoyle-esque mien be sufficient enough for your artistic purposes?” She asks directly, as though the young mage had been prepared to take a different pose if requested. “Lest you’ve another to consider…?”

[thracianblood]

He gives her a stare, watching her take on a sitting position without so much as hesitation once the idea takes hold of her. It's...

Terrible. Not wyvern-like at all. Why did she think that was a good idea?

"If you have to use another creature's likeness to describe it, then it isn't close enough." Travant comments, more disgruntled by the inaccuracy he perceives rather than the ridiculousness of a mage assuming this sort of pose. Even if he had seen a wyvern sit like that before, it could be easily mistaken for some other animal. "It needs to be more domineering. Grand. Not like a pet waiting for it's owner to return home... Wait a moment. Hold still."

In a sudden bout of inspiration, he ducks his head as his pencil moves across a piece of paper. It would require some consultation before he truly commits it to the canvas, however if she agrees with the rough concept, then it would be less the hassle. It doesn't take long before he finishes, holding up the paper facing towards her and revealing the sketch.

"There is a story in my homeland where a wyvern patiently sits at home as their master goes out on a mission. That master never returns, so it continues to wait at that very same spot, day in and day out. It is said that the wyvern had already figured out their master had died, but chose to wait with the small hope that they hadn't... And that, is the basis of this idea. Well?"

[virtuoustyrfing]

i think the elephant really ties the room together

mission board: herald » heavy armor +1 » word count challenge: 200 words or less per post!

[virtuoustyrfing]

It’s that time of year again, and the savvy students and faculty members find some excuse to be out of town or feign illness to get out of the most unpopular part of the Ethereal Ball: cleaning up afterwards. Unfortunately for you, you weren’t quite savvy enough yourself or you got caught lying. Pick up a broom or a mop and get to making the monastery halls presentable again, and while you’re at it, shift all the furniture so everything’s in the right place. [Grants Heavy Armor +1]

"Oh," Seliph's voice rises in pitch before falling back to normal, "It's you." Now he knows for sure that the brief encounter last night was neither a hallucination nor a dream. He only didn't think he would see the man at the post-Ethereal Ball cleaning duty, much less be partnered with him for it.

With a soft exhale, he regains his composure and rolls up his uniform sleeves to his elbows.

"Mop or broom?" The surreality of asking this—or the entire situation, really—isn't lost on the younger man. He inclines his head towards the wall where the cleaning tools and a bucket of water await. "Starting with the floor should be easier before the tables and benches are moved back."

Seliph can see why the tiled floor of the Reception Hall could use cleaning. Petals and popped corn are scattered about it. He even spots a small puddle of mysterious liquid. Whether it is sparkling water, syrup from the refreshments table, or something else remains to be seen.

@thracianblood

[thracianblood]

Someway, somehow, he'd been roped into doing menial chores on behalf of the church. And now he's stuck cleaning up floors… with none other than this blue-haired runt.

"… Broom."

It does not help that he's not getting paid to deal with this. All of this.

He'd gambled on the chance of encountering old foes during the expedition, and promptly lost, but somehow this feels much more humiliating. Travant picks the broom off the assortment and gets right to work, sweeping off stray petals to the side. The sooner this is over, the sooner he can go.

… But if his assumption is correct, in that his current partner would be as curious as that Leonster boy was, then the topic is going to come up eventually whether he likes it or not. The silence in between is just the bridge leading to the inevitable.

"I keep running into all you nuisances—" he mutters— "what's your purpose here? I don't suppose even the fabled hero wants to study in a foreign land?"

[thracianblood]

a penny for your silence

MISSION BOARD: Infamous - Gauntlets +1

[deflere]

Zasha had been patrolling alone. It was quiet enough, for the most part, save at the end he hears the soft clinking of glass shattering. He waits, and then hears it again- which means he probably should check it out.

And that was how he ended up watching a strange verdant haired man search for the monastery’s new gadgets and destroying them.

What was his purpose in doing so? A would-be thief, clearing his exit strategy? Someone searching for valuable scraps? If it was the latter, Zasha wouldn't mind turning a blind eye. But the man seemed a little too deliberate and a little too careless to be so.

The soft flapping of wings is the only sound Zasha makes, settling into a perch to watch the man’s destruction. Theoretically, he should step in. It's his job to step in, actually.

He doesn’t need to. The man notices him first.

“.. Yes.” There's a problem, he means. "You shouldn't be destroying those."

[thracianblood]

It just so happens that this witness actually cared for rules and order. Perfect. Just perfect.

Travant thought he would only see a person with wings in books of myths and fairytales. Always with the new discoveries in this place... At least it isn't another one of those people looking to pick on him.

"Heh," he smirks. "They shouldn't be investing into such poorly made things in the first place. What does a bunch of scrap metal do that a Knight of Seiros doesn't already?" Granted, he doesn't know what exactly goes on behind the scenes. The fact that no knight bothers to check up on Abyss only implies their incompetence, as far as he's concerned.

"I'm only here to... send a message." Travant twists his hand slowly, watching the way the the light reflects against the 'eye' and playing with the bright spot that forms on the floor. "You can take the parts for yourself, you know. They might be brittle as a sum, but I'm sure their components fetch a pretty price. We can both turn a blind eye and pretend none of this happened."

[grxstnnefealltoir]

sweet treats and false faces || travant & darios

ethereal ball '26 - mmm ice machine

[grxstnnefealltoir]

"Haha, quite. From all about the world too." Darios hums to himself and looks along the flavored syrups. The merchants were certain to get their fill after this what with a showcase of this manner. He's tempted to mix all the flavors and try them, if only to see how sweet it might taste but that is perhaps an endeavor best suited when he's on his own.

"You would have enjoyed the one last year I feel. It was at the beach, quite a few ships were employed as well and the night sky was filled with fire works by the end of it." His smile is gentle. "What is it you've been ip to since our return? Quite a lot has happened I feel."

From the epidemic to the mock battle. It's certainly calmer and that is something he can at least be grateful for.

[thracianblood]

An Ethereal Ball... at the beach? In this weather? Perhaps it was for the best that Travant attended this one instead of the previous...

"Oh, you underestimate how boring it gets," he confesses. "Training and working all day... If there was a day where there's no work, it is always a trial of finding something fulfilling to cover the gaps."

It wasn't as if he never indulged in hobbies, no, it was mostly that there was always something occupying his body and mind when he served as Thracia's king. Always moving about the castle, flying to and fro to watch over whatever conflicts arose in his realm. It had always been extra tedious if there weren't enough hands on board due to poor harvests. And don't even get him started on making sure the children weren't up to anything devious...

Being free of those responsibilities left him liberated as much as it left him directionless.

... But enough of that. He can't exactly gather information about Darios if he's too busy spilling about his own life. "I imagine whatever goes on with you has been more... exciting? You seem more involved with the monastery's shenanigans."

[thracianblood]

wanted plots - may

Thinking of some more lighthearted threads to ease the brain a little. Travant is an Abyss citizen, so if anyone's looking for a muse to pair up with for prompts not included here, feel free to hit me up!

Pings or DMs on the Discord server are fine by me! Tumblr IMs are fine too for dash-only folks.

[BOW +1]- You just know Travant's taking a bit of the spoils for himself. We can determine their hunting skills with dice rolls to add a bit of randomness into the mix. [HEAVY ARMOR +1] - Whoopsies, he played the part of a faculty member a little too well and now he's been forced to participate in clean-up. This will be doubly funny if his partner is someone he met during ball (but isn't a requirement!).

[thracianblood]

may activity check

-

TOTAL SKILL POINTS ⟋ 13

SKILL POINTS ACQUIRED ⟋ 1

BREAKDOWN: passed may activity check - +1 any skill

ALLOCATED SKILL POINTS ⟋

[+1 SP] Reason - E -> E+

FINISHED THREADS ⟋

none

[thracianblood]

[ MOVIE - TRAGEDY ] - A techno-magical reproduction of a moving tragedy following a young prince seeking revenge against his uncle for the murder of his father.

The technology used to make performances replayable fascinates Altena. She finds it rather hard to imagine just from the excited word of mouth floating about the ballroom. It seems like it is something that must be seen to be truly understood.

She sits with her father in the first room that had been available to them, unsure of what exactly they are about to view but excited to see the spectacle. As the show plays, the plot becomes obvious. The color drains from her face and she tries to steal inconspicuous glances over at her father to gauge if he is as uncomfortable as she is.

"I didn't know," she whispers apologetically as the hero speaks to his father's ghost. "We don't have to stay..."

It is merely a work of fiction, a tale told by performers reciting lines and swinging fake weapons. It does not claim to be based on real events like those ridiculous plays in Grannvale. Real or fake, fiction, or non-fiction, all these stories aim to evoke emotion in those who watch them.

Eyes bore into the screen as a familiar memories resurface in vivid detail. These characters bear no physical resemblance to anyone he knows, yet the story seems very, very familiar to him the longer it plays out...

He doesn't shift the entire time they're watching — a stoic face, arms folded, with one leg over the other. His hair covers whatever emotion manages to spill onto his face, if any of it could.

At Altena's comment, he replies matter-of-factly:

"You can leave if you want."

I want to see if this story ends differently.

[thracianblood]

With how long she's spent straightening the least damaged flowers, it would be a shame not to distribute the rest.

But she also refuses to chase the crowds, too afraid of the incident repeating now that she only has a few left.

She picks at random a tall man, likely a faculty member with how he carries himself.

Catching his attention mid-motion as he turns towards him by accident.

"Excuse me, sir, I don't know if you're also participating in this, but would you like to trade flowers with m-"

She gets a closer look upon his face, having to strain her neck to do so.

And

Fuck

Fucking hell, what the fuck?

What are the odds????

(No wonder people didn't question Princess Altena being his; they are quite alike.)

She needs to run, hide, crawl into a hole, and disappear, but any and all logic is preventing her from just bolting and causing a scene.

At the barest implication of a movement to take the flowers, she shoves them into his hand with a desperation not fitting the event at all.

A quick bow

She turns around

Walking away to make some distance

Crashing into the wall with a dull thud

At least not a person this time....

And just under her breath she says something quite unladylike

"Fucking hell"

There's a young, timid voice he hears just behind him. Though what he doesn't expect is that as soon as he turns around and meets eyes with the girl, she physically recoils as if he just spat on her face!

Travant's barely able to open his mouth in the split moment of silence between them before getting flowers shoved at him. The exchange wouldn't have been much of an issue if it weren't for such erratic decorum. Just who does she think she is?

He watches her make a fool of herself, knocking into a wall in a clumsy sort of exit. The silver tone of her hair rings oddly familiar... A familiarity that doesn't ease him, instead brings a sour taste in his mouth when he comes to realize...

... Friege.

"... Tch." Now he understands. She just wants to make a mockery of him.

Fine. These flowers will be in better care with him than any of those blasted mages anyway.

[warpaway]

i can turn anything into my hyperfixation just try me

wk 1 || ethereal ball 2026

[warpaway]

@thracianblood sent:

[ PHOTO IN MOTION ] - And in addition, this year boasts a similar device bolstered by new advancements that allow it to capture more than just a moment; now, even motion and sound can be immortalized forever. Take a video with a friend—or catch something juicy you'll want to keep up your sleeve for later.

"So this button triggers a mechanism which burns the image onto each section of the... Hmm... That can't be it," Travant mutters to himself, narrowing his eyes to try to peek into whatever gaps in the box there are to examine the camera's insides but to no avail. As he moves away from the machine, giving up the task before someone could start looking at him weird, he notices a familiar face. "You're that 'crestology' person from that expedition, aren't you? What a coincidence..."

“before you assume i know anything about those things, think again,” linhardt responds, shaking their head slightly.  “and besides, you'd do better to use my name.  linhardt.”

despite the man's status, linhardt severely doubts he cares about titles or names, so he doesn't bother offering his last name.  in any case, his crest is already sewn into the lacy boarder around his shoulders.

“wait - that brings up a good question.  yes!”

they set aside their bouquet and step forward, then take the strange device to point it towards themself.  then, they take a couple steps back, hoping they're properly in frame.

“do you mind filming me?  i'd love to see if the magicks interact with my crest in any way.”

[thracianblood]

"Linhardt... Yes." He pronounces the name slowly, committing it to memory. The Thracian would do well to remember the person who still speaks to him so casually despite knowing who he really is...

At Linhardt's suggestion, he raises a brow. Does this camera really operate on magic alone? Perhaps it may be the most obvious answer, but Travant can't help but be disappointed if that were the case.

"I don't believe it should, seeing as it only captures what we see with our own eyes..." But if it does capture signs of a crest — signs of holy blood — then it would have considerable value to those who seek its power. Still, wouldn't it be a breach in privacy if it were that easy to find one's lineage from pressing a button on a box?

"... I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a try. Though I doubt anything will come of it."