Free At Last!

go in the water (in the water?) in the water

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:go in the water]#soulsaligned #up to you if he hits or misses for this first shot! he's playing fair so its ~ really up to anyone's guess

So a plan has been hatched to host a small game in town, where a device is connected to a ring target and a small platform suspended over a pool of water. Someone sits on the platform, and everyone else tries to strike the bullseye that will send them into the drink below. [Grants Bow +1] starter for @soulsaligned

"So you’re saying that the target hasn’t been hit, at all?” Lewyn studies the professor on the podium, having already exchanged some of his change for his participation in the activity. A toy bow in hand, and its corresponding quiver of arrows over his back, he waves at the to-be victim. “That must be a shame.”

“Hey!” He shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth in a gesture that would be unnecessary if it weren’t for the bustle of the people either waiting for their turn or otherwise the type to find amusement in the misery of another, “You’d better brace yourself, since it’ll be a waste if you sit up there without falling at least once!”

And with that warning, Lewyn aims his first arrow at the target. Though he certainly won't let all of his chances go to waste, he won't be doing anything this first attempt. Just to keep the tension up, and all~.

ask my son, who exists

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:ask my son who exists]#fellsparks #sorry for the wait!

It’s that dreaded time of year. The annual health seminar that all students wish to avoid and all professors look upon with foreboding. Promising young men and women are everyday appearances but how many know about their own gasp bodies? Get creative or look for ways to escape the #1 most hated class across all of Officers Academy history. [Grants Any Skill +1] starter for @fellsparks

“I don’t… I don’t think I need to be there.” It’s a common excuse, for sure, but Lewyn is fairly certain that in his case it is justified. There shouldn’t be any reason for him to listen to yet another lecture about the importance of passing on his holy blood (or Crests or whatever they call it here- he’s pretty sure he’s heard that term in passing), or on the specifics of the birds and the bees when he has already has had a child.

He is also aware that he isn’t the only student trying to get out of the lecture by talking to the professor beforehand- and, in fairness, normally he would have been fine with simply not showing up and that being the end of it, but, unfortunately, he’s heard that those who didn’t attend were required to have a legitimate reason, or otherwise be hunted down by a professor to sit in a different session.

And whether they could catch him or not, it all sounded like a hassle he didn’t want to deal with. Better to try and get out of it, or otherwise suffer through the thing.

“Okay, wait. I know it sounds strange- but I already know about everything you’re supposed to go over, and I don’t really want to go around talking about my holy blood to the other students, so could you please look the other way?”

peach blossoms & meadow-green

->ANY+1

He rejects her offer, and she can respect that, disguising the way she rubs the flecks of blood from her fingertips in the action of lowering her scarf. It wasn't much in the first place -- little more than a few stray petals, as if a flower had contemplated blooming but hadn't yet.

Nothing like the russet garden Lewyn leaves in his wake, full flowers spilling from his lips. Katarina's hands tangle uselessly in front of her, fretful but unsure of what to do. She's never been suited to healing nor tending to others, but she can be aware of her weaknesses and still regret them. In her fluster, one bloom falls closer to her than the others, and she catches it by instinct.

"A-ah..." The innocent phrasing prickles across the back of her neck. Her real name...? "I-it's... Katarina, now," she answers, too ashamed in facing him to lie and insinuate that it had been so always. "But... I was Ms. Meadow-Brook before. W-what about... what about you?"

She knows his name already, truth be told; it was the first thing she'd looked into upon their return from the Baroness' manor. But that isn't the sort of thing an innocent person would do, is it? Her gaze drops, falling instead upon the flower in her hand. Part of her wonders if the flowers in his lungs mean anything, but, well... she wouldn't know, anyway.

"...You're coughing up flowers." It's a statement, not a question. "Does it..." Lips press into a thin line. What was she going to ask-- 'does it hurt'? Of course it does. "...N-no, um..." Just barely, she meets his eyes again, apologetic. She can tell he plays at normalcy despite the blood trailing from his lips, but she's always been clumsy and tactless. "...Sorry. I've heard that... there's a way to make the flowers go away."

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:peach blossoms and meadow green]#ephemeralove #thank youuu :pleading: katarina beloved

To have others worry about him was a luxury- a failure on his end, to have his charade so neatly shattered by something out of his control. By something so absurd, he adds bitterly, that he would have laughed (high and clear, he knows, unlike the coughs he manages now) should anyone have claimed it to be true before.

But still he manages to meet her eyes, because a nice woman was spending her time worrying about someone like him, wasting away in a garden of his own making.

“Katarina, huh? That’s a nice name. My name is…” And he pauses- and he hates that he does, for he would have had no reason to pause before, the flowers reminding him of everything he tried to forget- and corrects himself, “I am Lewyn.”

I am and no other.

Please.

But she has known no other that went by his name- or so he hopes that if she had it was not another puppetting his body. For a moment, it feels like he can breathe easier, but naturally that it is only a temporary relief.

What is more promising than something he cannot even tell if certain are her words, and he can't help letting hope seep through, “There… There is?”

sticks ... and stones?

Sword +1 w/ @venticatenae

There’s an involuntary yelp of surprise that escapes her as she nearly fumbles her stick, a quick adjustment of her wrist keeping it from tumbling from her hands. Damn it, she really did think she was alone— and the burning in her cheeks is intense as she follows the source of the voice. A young man, situated above her; though it doesn’t last long as he effortlessly descends to her level. He doesn’t seem to be too old, at least based off of looks alone: Alear certainly knows how misleading that can be, considering her own age versus her appearance. “I— ah…. It’s silly, really,” Alear chuckles nervously, eyes flickering between Lewyn and her makeshift sword. She nearly feels like a child that got caught doing something they shouldn’t— though there’s nothing inherently wrong with goofing off every once in a while… especially after she’s been so busy and so stressed. “I just thought it kinda looked like a sword. See? Almost like a handguard.” Oh, she sounds like an utter fool right now. A clearing of her throat follows, and a long pause stretches between them… before she glances over to him with a smile. Okay, fine— she’ll bite. He seems cheerful enough, and he’s more than welcome to decline. But if she doesn’t ask, she’ll never know, right? “Do you have any experience with swords?” It’s an innocuous enough question, though the mischief twinkling in her eyes is a good indicator of where her train of thought is heading. “There’s a couple more around that seem sturdy enough to be a makeshift blade…. Just saying.” A twirl of her wrist is a flourish she’s long-since become comfortable with, though it’s strange to adjust to the lack of weight with this stick. She’s… never had the opportunity to feel young like this, to feel like a kid with nothing to worry about other than when the sun will be setting and it’s time to go home. Alear knows well enough this feeling is fleeting and will be gone not long from now, but she can at least savor it while it lasts. “What do you think? Hit me once, and I’ll hand over my name. If I get you— I want to hear yours. Seem fair?”

@venticatenae

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:sticks and stones]#aliberation #waugh :pleading:

"Hm~?" Lewyn plays at ignorance, eyes dancing around the area for a stick of his own. There are a few that look sturdy enough for his purposes, and he silently begins his selection. It couldn't be too heavy, or it'll slow him down, but if it was too fragile… a lot more thought went into choosing one than he thought! "I'm not very familiar, but why do you ask?"

When she makes her offer, it doesn't take any time for him to pick his way over to a final contender of his frankly purposeless consideration, making a show of investigating it, before picking it up with a (admittedly clumsy) twirl. He doesn't seem particularly perturbed by this, however, letting out a laugh.

"These terms seem simple enough, even if our skills aren't~" Even if he doesn’t have any thought that he could out fence a swordswoman, he’s never balked at giving his name. After all, he's pretty sure he can wheedle out hers in return. “So very well, I accept your challenge!”

He leaps backward as he speaks- a few paces away- both of them out of reach of each other, and more importantly, making it suitably more dramatic. If they're going to do this, they're going to do this right.

September Activity

Points Earned: 1

Check: Reason +1

Skill Changes:

Reason C+ (1) -> Reason B

Claims:

Black/Dark Magic Crit+ (Reason B) (Pending)

#[ooc]#toaactivity #whymustyouclaimsomethign

virtuoustyrfing

wherever the wind blows

event: ethereal ball 2025

virtuoustyrfing

Once, a part of Seliph half-wondered whether his former tactician distanced himself from his title due to reasons that run deeper than mere personal preferences. Considering what he knows—and what he hesitates to reveal to Lewyn now, it's a relief the man before him shares that preference.

This way, Seliph won't have to worry about accidentally slipping back into old habits.

"Of course," he says quickly, perhaps sounding a little too eager. "That's all right with me." It's a good compromise. However, that leaves Seliph with a different problem: what else can he say now?

"Oh!" Blue eyes light up as Seliph claps his hands together. "Would you share a story with me sometime, Lewyn? I'd like to hear more about my father."

Seliph may not admit it, but he wants to know how he compares to his father. Whether he will ever come close to the kind of man, a Holy Knight, Sigurd of Chalphy was in life.

"Or anything else, really, if it isn't too much to ask," he adds after a beat, bringing his hand to his chest. If it won't be too painful, it goes unsaid.

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:wherever the wind blows]#virtuoustyrfing #yes its a delay tactic from lewyn but also he can ask questions! as long as he's not looking directly at seliph jlsdk

“A story…” The bard muses, thoughtful. Stories were not exactly hard to come by in his mind- nor were stories of those he called friends, but he knew that wasn’t the problem. But he doesn’t say no- because he’d rather tell a story that causes him pain than watch it die out. “How about the first time we met, then?”

He laughs, and it is softer than the one he usually displays- no longer bright and theatrical. “Let’s see- I’d need more room to play an instrument, though… Hm. Perhaps we should see what they’ve got setup outside the venue~”

The bard weaves through the existing crowd with little issue- glancing backward only once to see if the younger man follows. Almost offhandedly, he tosses a question behind him, as if afraid of the answer, “Did the story end well, the second time around?”

be steady, be free

willowitxh

She wasn't going to suddenly cause the ice to crack by standing on it. There wasn't a legion of undead waiting under the ice for her signal to attack and cause havoc. This was purely a recreational activity. Gods, Thrasir knew how to do those? Clearly not as she hesitated a moment longer. Long enough for her apprehension to flash across her face before she bit on them again.

Alright then... here goes nothing. Thrasir summoned up every faint memory that Veronica had of ice skating and stepped onto the ice.

Almost immediately falling over as suddenly her balance was no longer firmly grounded on terra firma. Instinctively, Thrasir threw out her arms to try steady herself, her eyes widening. Veronica had found this past-time fun? A moment later and she had shakily righted herself to standing.

Best not be too rude to her instructor then. Time to summon up every ounce of student like behaviour...

"Sorry...!" she hummed as she looked at the other who'd offered to teach. She'd made a fool of herself for a moment so clearly she was supposed to give off the nervous apology. Happy, Veronica? I'm giving the nervous student act to satisfy your longing. Veronica's heart remained silent. Of course it did. Thrasir had followed the path of her shoved aside desires.

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:be steady be free]#willowitxh

“There you go, and… woah!” He holds out his arms with the intention to catch her, though it appeared that she was able to catch herself before she fell. It wouldn’t be too painful, he knows, but sometimes it’s enough to scare someone off attempting to move again. “Just like that!”

Straightening, he laughs, “No need to apologize~ this is what I’m here for! It’s easier to keep your balance as long as you keep moving. It’s a little like dancing, if you’re familiar.”

He glides a small distance away, still facing her. Clear from his easy going movements, avoiding the other students on the ice even while backward, that this was an activity he was familiar with- “Do you see how the other students are pushing off the ice? Try moving over here~”

peach blossoms & meadow-green

->ANY+1

It starts without warning. One morning you spit out a mouthful of flower petals, the next you feel thorny vines scratch at the walls of your rib cage. After that those vines overcrowd. You begin to claw at your throat, finding your breaths come out in difficult, stumpy heaves as you ache for your suffering to end. That is to say: a strange onset of disease has overtaken the monastery, striking seemingly at random. Or is it random, truly? Many speculate that unfulfilled adoration is the cause whereas others point out it need not be only love. Those strongly disposed to emotion find that their symptoms worsen, rage, bitterness, sadness, despair, longing—all bringing the taste of flowers in your mouth to a head. What can fix it? For those feelings to be heard, no matter what they are, to the person whom they best concern. [Grants Any Skill +1]

Despite its frailty, the petal pinched between Katarina's fingers holds the light as she looks upon it with a distant curiosity. Part of her had wondered if it would turn nearly transparent when caught in a sunbeam, like paper, or cloth stretched thin. It doesn't; all the light does is bring out the russet that stains both flower and fingertip.

So she lets it go. A daffodil, she thinks they were called, although she can't be sure; she's never paid but so much attention to flowers, ironic as that feels now. It rides the wind elsewhere beyond, and as she watches it disappear--

--her heart catches in her throat, a strangled gasp cut short as she reels, briefly, at the sight: a familiar man cast in sunlight, surrounded by petals of all colors as if in mockery. For a moment, she expects him to disappear, just as he had that day.

He doesn't; the world continues without end, but Katarina, at least, is called to action. Feet fly over cobblestone, and she is at his side within moments.

"M-Mister Peach," she frets, forgetting that is one of many names left to a single day far in the past. One of her hands lingers by his side, as if afraid to touch, while the other searches her pockets for a handkerchief or anything sufficient enough. "Are you alright?" No, hadn't she just been reprimanded for asking that recently? "N-no, um... here...!" With nothing better at hand, she offers a corner of her scarf to wipe away the blood.

@venticatenae

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:peach blossoms and meadow green]#ephemeralove #ooough... ur writing is so tasty #reunion 2 years later!! not having him notice her condition yet cause you said you wanted it to build slowly :0

Time moves on- Lewyn does not. It had started as nothing- a scratch in his throat, maybe, but nothing severe. Common, easy to deal with. He had laughed it away, a scratch growing to pain until even the act of smile brings to mind thorns, and the song in his voice grows muffled by lightly colored petals stained in red until it inevitably turns silent again. He doesn’t stop smiling, and the petals turn into blossoms- a trail of out-of-season blossoms forming an impermanent trail.

It’s warm, in the sunlight- and quiet, broken only by his laughs that sound more akin to coughs when he waves off concern. With each lie, piles of colored blossoms grow at his feet, until all he can smell is something sickeningly sweet mixed with the iron of blood.

Is it really a lie, if no one would believe it? But it is enough for others to leave him alone, bouquets building themselves around him. Flowers, in their brilliant beauty spelling out his heart- lies and grief, false smiles and fear, fire and fire.

“You are…” He blinks- memories of a manor and another show, of another member of the cast- quiet, in the background. A hand to push down the scarf, to swallow the taste of blood and smile, to keep smiling, “I’m sorry~ I can’t seem to remember your name.”

Interrupted by a series of uncontrolled coughs, the ground gains white poppies stained with red, “How about you tell me your real one?”

sticks ... and stones?

Sword +1 w/ @venticatenae

It’s been a long, long time since she got to indulge in something so silly and so… immature, in a way. There’s plenty of mischief she can get into on her daily walks around the monastery, though she tends to refrain— she knows there’s several people that would lecture her for letting her guard down, and Alear certainly doesn’t want to worry any of them. Even though she knows they’ll do it regardless of how well-behaved she’s been. There’s one thing she’s seen kids do. Something she wanted to try, but didn’t have the nerve to ask anyone from the Somniel to indulge her with— and it’s almost as if fate beckons to her when she spots something along the dirt path she had been following. Nothing of huge interest, but there is a stick that looks an awful lot like a sword with the straight angle of its branch. There’s a couple of leaves still stuck to it, and… her head swivels from side to side as she makes sure that nobody is watching before picking it up, grinning as she swings it with little effort. Of course, nothing like Liberation. It would be ridiculous if it was. But it fits well in the palm of her hand, and she makes another swing, this time accompanying it with a ‘woosh’ sound effect. Honestly, she knows this is ridiculous— and frankly, if any of her allies spotted her doing this… she might just die on the spot. She never got to be a child, though. She never got to act like a kid, and she never experienced any of the joys of youth. Perhaps she’s allowed to indulge, even for a moment, as she makes a jab with it as if it were a blade for fencing. Alear’s not sure that’s how a move with a rapier is supposed to look, though… “Aw, man. Not as good at that as I thought I’d be.” @venticatenae

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:sticks and stones]#aliberation #weee! alear can propose a game or lewyn can weedle his way in eitehr way fldjskfds

It isn’t really fair to expect people to look up when going about their day-to-day lives, especially if they weren’t aware of Lewyn’s tendencies- or, perhaps more importantly, weren’t aware of Lewyn. He doesn’t really mean to ambush anyone, really, but neither does he go out of his way to prevent it from happening. What was the fun in that?

That was to say- Lewyn saw it all. He was, after all, nestled in the crook of a tree, mostly intending to be unseen for his own amusement, before the stranger came by. Not one to interrupt fun, he had simply watched- wondering what exactly brought about the whole idea.

“Hm, really~?” He leans forward, such that if she decided to glance up, she would notice him among the branches above. Revealing his presence in a unobtrusive way, first. “I think you were doing pretty well!”

Teasing, teasing- he slips off the branch, scarves fluttering as he lands with a flourish. With a hum, he leans forward, studying both her and the branch in her hand. Cheeky and playful, as if he were not privy to her previous actions, “So… what are you doing?”

landsbluod

at dusk, to think of you

landsbluod

In the deepest part of the woods, townsfolk tell legend of a natural hot spring that’s said to host fairies. It’s unsure if the rumor is true but if you find your way there you will be met with the beautiful sight of hot springs. After coming such a long way, it’s natural to want to rest until your aches wash away. And what’s wrong with staying a little longer? An hour melts into several and the sun begins to wane and with it your sense of safety. Instead of restored, your energy feels sapped. It’d be best to stay until you’re fully better, right? It’s a long way back after all. But the longer you stay, the worse you feel, and with the increasing sense that you are someone - or something’s - prey. In fact, a demon lurks in these woods, and the hot springs are its trap. Is this even reality anymore, and how will you escape? [Grants Reason +1] (starter for @venticatenae)

"I believe it's just up ahead," Lachesis called over her shoulder, trudging footsteps crushing dense green undergrowth as she pushed herself ever forward. She could not have been sure how many times they had said that to one another, not merely here in the darkest point of this deep forest, but as a whole, in their time as friends and companions, comrades in Sigurd's army, and comrades in their deep sadness when the need arose to travel north.

That clung to them even then, even here, a veil of it dewy with tears unshed and weighted with the heaviness they refused to allow another to see.

Glancing back to see if he had kept up - as he had for her, some miles back, and vice versa with each second wind - she thought for a moment she saw the shift of light warp around them, squinting for a moment to dismiss it merely as the sun beginning to set.

"It must be," she said, nudging aside a heavy curtain of fern, wrinkling her nose somewhat playfully. "I can feel the moisture. One notices it instantly, living in the mountains, doesn't one? Dreadful."

It was almost said with a laugh, bootheels sinking into the soft loamy earth, growing softer with every step until, very abruptly, it hardened into only slick stone, and that delicate hint of moisture became a great warm rolling fog.

Lachesis brightened. "Oh, finally. Wonderful. Come, we'll set up camp, perhaps a fire, and then the night is ours."

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:at dusk to think of you]#landsbluod

Lewyn hums in response, not quite non-committal but light, trusting her words even though their previous echo hasn’t truly faded- from the air, from memory. He, too, had called the same thought back to her when he had led them just some time prior through the weight of humidity and words left unsaid. It was easier that way, after all, looking forward rather than back.

And so they did, and this time, are rewarded for their journey. Waves of fog both promising and veiling the very prize they sought- how dramatic! When mud gives way to hard stone, he takes a few careful steps forward, ahead, no longer leaving an impression on the ground- verdant eyes blink, as if he could peer through the mist any clearer.

“Now, that wasn’t as far as I thought it would be!” With a spin and a laugh, he turns back to face her- as cheerful and energetic as when they had set out. Despite a glance at the mist against, he heads back to set down his supplies and search for what they needed.

“Why don’t you take a look up ahead? I can get us started on camp.” He doesn’t draw attention to her tremors, though he had long noticed them- unwilling to speak on the differences that they both would know. Still, he shows care in the way he knows how- flippant words and careful action.

August Activity

Points Earned: 1

Check: Reason +1

Skill Changes:

Reason C+ -> Reason C+ (1)

Completed Threads:

escape map aborted (Leif)

Dropped Threads:

fashion emergency (Goldmary) invitation to wine (Sain)

Claims:

Bard (Still Pending)

#[ooc]#toaactivity #i cant remmeber if i claimed bard or if i just told myself to so . gonna wait a bit longer SDKJFLDSF

enarmor

‧❀༉‧˚ invitation to wine.

enarmor

Your average tavern setup typically goes like this: flickers of lamplight casting their long shadows against the weathered beams of a saddle-colored interior. Mugs of frothy ale are passed along and add their clinks to the incessant chatter of patrons. Silverware scrapes plates as hearty meals are eaten to soften the hold of a hangover. Sometimes someone yells. The keep is seen wiping down some glass or other when you approach--usually a bald guy with a white apron and a gruff chin. And while, yeah, sure, this one has it all too--the night is young and Lewyn blends in with all the experienced regulars, live music cascading around his ears--it's got something else:

"We meet again. I believe I've owed you one of these for a long time, now."

Heart.

Sain's voice sounds so soft it might as well be cashmere. His sight sketches a line from the bard's face down to his hands, briefly--just to slide over a glass of top-shelf noir. It then returns to the lone peridot unobscured by hair. The knight tries to eek out a stare back, his pupil moving in half-crescents as he helps himself to the next nearby seat. Would Lewyn ever look his way? There is as much fondness in his smile as his dialogue, old memories--somewhat painful memories--of this stranger-made-friend appearing as though the past were the present. He himself has a matching beverage. Both quaffs of liquor swirl with reds and blacks and the tiniest tinge of plum. It holds itself together with ease, not bubbling or frothing even if either of them were to give his glass a rattle. But Sain would prefer its quality not be tested in this way. He would also prefer you not inquire as to what portion of last week's pay tonight has already cost him.

"Some say a knight never forgets, but I prefer to claim that it is our duty to remember." Hopefully the irony of this statement is not lost, what with all that Sain has lost, himself. "How do you fare? 'It has been a while' undersells it by a fair margin, doesn't it?"

//starter for @venticatenae

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:invitation to wine]#enarmor #sainnn i missed you sain

“You sure know how to keep a guy waiting~” Lewyn’s teasing voice mixes with the symphony of others, as much at home here as he would be in any similar establishment. Teasing, laughing- the same smile he had flashed before fingers had pointed his way, the same flippant tongue that had cast him into the flames. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten!”

Green eyes, as flighty as the man they belonged to, turn to greet a returning friend. There is no ill-will in his gaze, just as there hadn’t been before- no harm done, he’d said once, it was just a game. His subsequent disappearance, too, was just a coincidence.

“If knights have a duty to remember, then where does that leave the humble bard?” Lewyn hums, amused. It is knights that he sings stories of, not those in the same profession as him, after all. The songs store the memory of those forgotten otherwise. “It’s been about the same, as you'd know. Apparently I missed a great deal of fuss that happened, traveling the lands~. A shame, really!”

He doesn’t sound particularly beat up about it, carelessly gesturing his empty hand outward. “Oh, but this year’s ball was particularly magnificent! An oceanside retreat sponsored by some wealthy noble or another.”

A melodic laugh, leaning forward. “But you can hear the details from any old student. I’m sure your story is far more interesting. So, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” An ironic echo of the knight’s original statement, “What have you been up to?”

diadic

escape map aborted

⤷ ethereal ball 2025: first half.

diadic

Was King Lewyn always this shameless? The way he openly expressed how much of a pain it'd be... It was a bit envious, truth be told. If Leif had done the same thing, he surely would have been scolded for it. But since Lewyn outranked Leif, it felt awkward to do the same...

(What a handful Lord Seliph must deal with...)

Leif maintains his frown as Lewyn keeps to insisting the lack of connection between him and the princess, but it's not Leif's business to push any further. He thinks on the irony of Julia regaining her memories and then the man who looked after her losing his when Lewyn makes a request of him...

“ You want me to hide her from you?? ” Leif balks. It's not that he doesn't understand the use of a white lie but... “ ...I can try, but I doubt you'll be able to run from her forever if she really ever appears here. Walk around in public enough, and word will spread about you eventually. You're hard to miss...

“ The only solution would be to hide away completely. But... that gets tiresome eventually too, doesn't it?? ” Maybe it was projection for Leif to say that though— just the expression of his own opinion. “ That's your choice though. But I'll keep to it. ”

Charms exchanged, that's about the extent of the information necessary to make but before Leif turns to leave, he remembers one thing and adds:

“ Good luck handling Lord Seliph!!”

Now THAT man he KNEW was here in the venue.

#[ic]#[thread]#[thread:escape map aborted]#diadic #incredibly funny drafting this up during lore however.

Nothing can be done forever, but it could be done for now, no? But Lewyn doesn’t say that aloud, because this kid seems to be the diligent type, and certainly not one to approve of such a temporary fix to any problem. But at least he gets an agreement, or the promise of an attempt, so that’s that~!

“Sure, it’ll get tiresome eventually, but at least I’ll have a chance to think of what to say!” Is his flippant- and a little harried response. He hopes it never comes to that, but honestly, it’ll probably be better to start preparing early. Even if he doesn’t know where to even begin with something like this.

Good luck handling Lord Seliph!!

“Huh?”

Right. Seliph’s around too-! But before he can really react, the kid disappears into the crowd.

“H-Hold on! You can’t just drop that on me!”

[end.]

be steady, be free

willowitxh

Was there something about her that screamed "help me" when people looked at her today? Or was it just this one stranger? Thrasir wasn't sure... she also wasn't sure why she was even entertaining his suggestion to follow him onto the ice. Really she should just walk away.

But... I really want to ice-skate, it's been so long and last time was-

Be silent, Veronica!

Still, Thrasir found herself hiring a pair of skates and finding her would be coach. Instructor. Whatever word he wished to apply here. It was of little consequence to her. As long as he didn't blunder his way through his help.

"Alright," she hummed, standing at the edge of the pond, staring at the ice like it might open up and swallow her. "Now what?"

Stupid question, this would be when he says 'just get on the ice'...