there ain't no rest for the wicked.

until we close our eyes for good. roleplay blog for monica von ochs from fe3h. affiliated with toa.

[vonochs]

introduction.

hello !! im mocha / kiki ( either is fine !! ) and i have the honor of rping monica von ochs in toa !! a few things about my version of monica to get started;

note that my interpretation of monica, while not explicitly so, relies on some spoilers wrt early pre-timeskip fe3h, so please be careful while reading through my notes !!

monica von ochs is the only daughter of baron ochs, a minor lord of the adrestian empire. like many nobles her age, she was sent to the officers academy to receive her education, though she was only there for a week or so before disaster struck.

a few months prior to her joining the rp, monica was kidnapped by a group of thieves hoping to receive a ransom from her father. however, due to a variety of miscommunications, it took several months for her father to pay the ransom and have her returned.

while physically unharmed, she was kept in isolation for much of her time there and treated rather poorly, leaving her with trauma from the incident.

in order to cope with the ordeal, her demeanor shifted to something far more cheerful than the demure persona she had held beforehand. she dismisses or flat out ignores many issues that arise, which oftentimes rubs her peers the wrong way at her seeming lack of care.

overall, she spends a great deal of time letting life happen to her rather than taking charge, a trait she’s described of herself. while well-meaning, a great deal of her empathy - both to herself and others - has been suppressed so as to make it easier for her to deal with any problems in her way.

your muse is potentially aware of the fact that a student was kidnapped, though how many details they’re aware of with regards to monica’s circumstances is entirely up to you !!

thank you for reading this far, and im looking forward to rping with you all !! ^w^)7

[gentlenekomata]

vonochs​:

gentlenekomata​:

teach me your ways | Sakura & Monica

– AFTER HER ENCOUNTER with Hubert, Monica had taken to spending the rest of the day more entrenched in the sand. Now wearing something a touch more appropriate as beach attire, she had sat down, stared directly at the sun, decided that was a horrible idea, and focused on the ground around her instead.

The man selling her the swimsuit had handed her other items as well; a shovel that seemed more attune to gardening, and some glass-like mold for, uh. 

“ A castle! “ he had explained excitedly, hands wrung out to the side. “ It’s all the trend now, trust me! My daughter adores this sort of a thing. “

Freebies were freebies, so she had taken it with a bit of a quirked brow and a shrug. Even if it meant that she sat there with two odd contraptions that she truly did not fully know how they worked.

“ Oh! Hey, Sakura! “ She waves with both of her hands at the younger girl. “ Uhmm, honestly, I really, truly wish I could tell you but, uh. “ She shrugs her shoulders. “ You’re welcome to take a look at ‘em and try and guess what they are yourself, but I’m at a loss. “

With still a quizzical look on her face, she gave a better look at the objects stuck in the sand and after a short amount of ‘hmms’ and ‘ohh’, she eventually came to the conclusion they were two objects used for castle-making: she has always made castles with her merely bare hands and a little bit of water, making some marvellous compositions with twirls and sinuous curves. She learned it from an old acquaintance of her parents, who apparently came from a seaside resort and sometimes they liked to pay a visit to Hoshido, bringing happiness and mysterious techniques. Still, since she wasn’t really practical on using them – she has actually never used them at all –, she vaguely admitted the identity of the two objects, still lingering on the perhaps correct answer.

“They’re similar to some objects I’ve already seen here on the beach” and she pointed out some other groups of people, mostly kids, that were playing and using those objects. “So I assume there are useful for… making castles?” she tempted the answer, not really sure whether it was correct or not. As a matter of fact, the only true way of finding out what they really meant to be used for, was trying to use them concretely.

“What about finding out together?” she offered her right hand to help her getting up, as well as hoping to work together on the strange items and with the sand, which definitely had something to do with them. We just need a little bit of experience to find that out, Sakura thought, as the red-haired girl began to reply.

[vonochs]

-- MONICA’S NOT ONE to shy away from an expenditure or three, and so she sits up sharply with a grin on her face. “ I’m all for it! “ she says, one hand on her hip and the other pulling Sakura forward. “ We’ll make it a bit of an adventure, alright? ‘Sakura and Monica’s Great Mystery’... or maybe research is a better term? “

She laughs lightly, then begins to tilt the objects from side to side. “ Making castles, huh... “ she clicks her tongue. She gets that it’s all play and pretend and such, but castles were strong things of brick and mortar that required cannons and fire to blaze through. Sand was anything but sturdy, quick to wash away and fade in ways that felt less sentimental and more useless.

“ I guess it’s a... ‘put this in here and pack it in’ sort of situation, maybe? “ Monica hums, tossing bits of sand into the mold. “ Do you mind givin’ it a big ol’ pat for me? “

advantages of have not’s

@hresvelged

The walls of the Imperial Palace always remained the same. The red curtains and paintings draped throughout the hallways are untouched, only tainted by those who’s eyes view them. Tarnished they are. Beneath the palace is never-ending darkness with silence to answer her pleas, while above are the watchful glares of those who have slithered throughout the empire’s doors.

She knows this too well, and yet, she does nothing. She can’t yet, all for the sake of her cause.

News easily carries to someone in a position like hers for many reasons⁠— With Monica’s own disappearance for some time, the Imperial Princess is well-informed on the incident. At least, as much as what reaches her ears. Her sources itself are the very faucet of information causing havoc and inviting others to do similar. The empire is sullied by thieves, antiquated nobility, and evildoers. All she can do is turn away.

Monica’s vibrancy and familiar red hair catches her in her tracks before she exits the classroom after a long day. It’s a refreshing sight, even if their exchanges thus far had been minimal. The inquiry is a baffling and sudden one, lilac eyes widening as her heels stop in their tracks. Edelgard does find fondness in the cats that wander the monastery⁠, she supposes. The way Monica speaks is as if she’s nervous. Or, perhaps unsure of where to begin. Whatever it may be, Edelgard keeps her grounding. With this opportunity presenting itself in plain sight, she isn’t about to walk away. To regret is unthinkable.

The princess’s head tilts, but only slight. “Oh? I.. didn’t know you were so concerned for their well-being. I don’t have anything for them on me at the moment. I would hope the staff take care of that.” She brushes a hand through her hair, sweeping it behind her shoulders. “There’s one particular spot they tend to gravitate towards⁠— The stairwell near the gates.” A pause. “Perhaps we can go together, if that would quell your worries.”

Words stretch tightly as she adds, “Unless I’m mistaken. Please, speak plainly.”

-- AH. OF COURSE that’s something the academy staff probably definitely had covered. They’d stepped up their game after a kidnapping incident or two, protecting students AND stray kitty cats on the go. What absolutely astounding individuals, now.

She rocks her feet back and forth, fingers tying knots in themselves behind her back. “ Ahhh, got me there~! “ she hums. “ Like, like... I know they’ve probably definitely got it covered, but it’s one thing to know someone is doing something behind the scenes and another to make sure that it’s actually being done yourself... it’s kind of anxiety inducing, y’know? I wanna make sure those kitties are being fed and are one HUNDRED percent a-okay! ”

Which like... isn’t one hundred percent a lie. She’s maaaybe playing up how anxious she is about their well-being a bit, but she DOES want to make sure they’re okay. Call her overbearing for the bit, if you must.

“ You’re not busy now, right? “ She takes two steps backwards, tugs at Edelgard’s sleeve. “ I mean, if you said that we can go together, then that implies we’re all good for go-time! “

She starts meaningfully shuffle-stepping away, channeling ‘kid who really wants to leave NOW but their parent is busy talking to some friend that they met at some get-together or other, completely blind to their kid’s cries’ with every inch of her being. “ By the by, it’s been quiiiet some time since we’ve hung out properly, right? “ she hums. “ So we can use this as a chance to catch up! You can let me in on what sort of gossip I’ve missed, though, “ her laugh tinkles lightly, “ it’s not like you’d get super involved with that sort of thing, I’m sure! Much more important things for you to bother your head with, Edel! “

[vonochs]

Pumpkin’s Vice

@teneguine:

“Believe in something hard enough, and it’s bound to come true.” Whether that is fate itself, the ability to defy it, or something in between, that’s always been how Odin tackles life’s many struggles. Lies become exaggerations if they’re told to the point of trying to make them come true, exaggerations to half-truths when he grows strong enough to pull of feats of grandeur. If there’s one thing Dark can be sure of in his life of make-believe, it’s that the human spirit is indomitable.

“Even one without chosen blood may rewrite their destiny. All they must do is steal the quill of the stars.” And he would know, for he’s seen it happen more times than he can count. Not even the shackles of time could restrain a great heroine he knew, nor the boundaries of space a pair of charming mercenaries.

But now Monica remains motionless, ready for her fortune to be read. Odin does away with his own cup of ‘tea’ and prepares for her a fresh batch. Again, in the same wildly incorrect style.

This time though, he doesn’t waste his time spouting nonsense. Fingers dance around her destiny like they did his, collecting what arcane energies her soul exudes. He closes his eyes. For a moment his mind is allowed to wander, though it remains anchored to the thought of Monica. What would her fortune be? That is the burning question he seeks to answer. It doesn’t feel like it’d be as epic or adventurous as his fate–because none are as epic or adventurous as he–but Odin dreams of something pleasant.

“Sweets…” he begins, eyelids squinting down hard, “I see… A mountain of sweets! Cookie crumbs and pasty flakes form a hiking trail at its base… The greenery is like the breath of heaven: delectable and fluffy beyond compare…” His hand leaves the table, and with it sparks begin to trail. Not only do they draw obscure shapes in the gap between finger and leafy water, but they ripple Odin’s brew. The intensity seems to match that of his imagination: feverish when ideas are surging, calm when his mind is searching. Again, he speaks, “…Yes! It’s a paradise of baked goods! But hark! The mountain’s top… There it is!”

Lightning crackles and then explodes into a defined shape. A heart, maintained through Odin’s strongest voltage, sprouts from his hand and into the tea. “A towering cake, like those seen at weddings, is a thousand thousand layers tall! And at its crown, two figures bound by love… By… Love?”

The vision fades, and so too does Odin’s magic. Just as quickly as it had burst forth it disappears, leaving a few static pulses as the only proof of its existence. He opens his eyes, though they are not filled with wonder or joy. They look despondent, the dim and ashy color a reflection of what he feels. Sorrow. Sorrow that his imaginary scene stopped so abruptly, sorrow that he could not see who was to get married. It’s like the last pages of a tense romance novel being torn out before your very eyes, its secrets left to die with fate.

“I… Apologize. I couldn’t see much beyond that. Though I hope this still means you’ll believe in my power…?”

-- HM. OKAY. SO here’s the problem

It’s that, in Monica’s heart of heart of HEART of hearts, she does want to believe. Truly, deeply, some childish part of her wants to listen to Odin’s vision of lightning and love and weddings and cakes and say yes, yeah actually it would be really, actually kinda neat if uhm. If at least some of that stuff that he said was, y’know. Actually something that was going to happen.

Instead, she says:

“ ...wow. “

Monica brushes the hair that’s fallen loose out of her eyes, blinking blearily past the lightning shadows that stain her eyelids. “ That was, uhm, “ she pops her lips, “ definitely a lot. I have to give kudos for all the lightning especially! “ She claps her hands together, tilting her head to the side. “ Like, genuinely? That part especially blew me away. You’ve definitely got the whole, uhm, “ she waves her hands around vaguely, gesturing at the space in front of them, “ vibe thing down pat. So. Kudos where they’re due! “

But as for as whether she can believe it?

She purses her lips, leans backwards and forwards and back again. Rocks in her chair, even. She’s a magic user, and hardly one based in logic or an understanding of how magic works intimately, so it’s not like she can do much talking when it comes to asking for evidence and the like regardless. That being said...

“ So, I know that, like, trade secrets n’ whatever, buuuuut but but... “ she leans forward once more, eyes scrutinizing the details of the cup. “ Can you give me as much of a run down as you feel you’re allllowwed to... on how this divination thing works? Like. Uhm. “ She taps her chin. “ This cup just met me, how’s it know my whole future? Do I give off some sorta stink that lets it think things like that? What’s it’s dealio? “

[vonochs]

Pumpkin’s Vice

@teneguine:

“Believe in something hard enough, and it’s bound to come true.” Whether that is fate itself, the ability to defy it, or something in between, that’s always been how Odin tackles life’s many struggles. Lies become exaggerations if they’re told to the point of trying to make them come true, exaggerations to half-truths when he grows strong enough to pull of feats of grandeur. If there’s one thing Dark can be sure of in his life of make-believe, it’s that the human spirit is indomitable.

“Even one without chosen blood may rewrite their destiny. All they must do is steal the quill of the stars.” And he would know, for he’s seen it happen more times than he can count. Not even the shackles of time could restrain a great heroine he knew, nor the boundaries of space a pair of charming mercenaries.

But now Monica remains motionless, ready for her fortune to be read. Odin does away with his own cup of ‘tea’ and prepares for her a fresh batch. Again, in the same wildly incorrect style.

This time though, he doesn’t waste his time spouting nonsense. Fingers dance around her destiny like they did his, collecting what arcane energies her soul exudes. He closes his eyes. For a moment his mind is allowed to wander, though it remains anchored to the thought of Monica. What would her fortune be? That is the burning question he seeks to answer. It doesn’t feel like it’d be as epic or adventurous as his fate–because none are as epic or adventurous as he–but Odin dreams of something pleasant.

“Sweets…” he begins, eyelids squinting down hard, “I see… A mountain of sweets! Cookie crumbs and pasty flakes form a hiking trail at its base… The greenery is like the breath of heaven: delectable and fluffy beyond compare…” His hand leaves the table, and with it sparks begin to trail. Not only do they draw obscure shapes in the gap between finger and leafy water, but they ripple Odin’s brew. The intensity seems to match that of his imagination: feverish when ideas are surging, calm when his mind is searching. Again, he speaks, “…Yes! It’s a paradise of baked goods! But hark! The mountain’s top… There it is!”

Lightning crackles and then explodes into a defined shape. A heart, maintained through Odin’s strongest voltage, sprouts from his hand and into the tea. “A towering cake, like those seen at weddings, is a thousand thousand layers tall! And at its crown, two figures bound by love… By… Love?”

The vision fades, and so too does Odin’s magic. Just as quickly as it had burst forth it disappears, leaving a few static pulses as the only proof of its existence. He opens his eyes, though they are not filled with wonder or joy. They look despondent, the dim and ashy color a reflection of what he feels. Sorrow. Sorrow that his imaginary scene stopped so abruptly, sorrow that he could not see who was to get married. It’s like the last pages of a tense romance novel being torn out before your very eyes, its secrets left to die with fate.

“I… Apologize. I couldn’t see much beyond that. Though I hope this still means you’ll believe in my power…?”

-- HM. OKAY. SO here’s the problem

It’s that, in Monica’s heart of heart of HEART of hearts, she does want to believe. Truly, deeply, some childish part of her wants to listen to Odin’s vision of lightning and love and weddings and cakes and say yes, yeah actually it would be really, actually kinda neat if uhm. If at least some of that stuff that he said was, y’know. Actually something that was going to happen.

Instead, she says:

“ ...wow. “

Monica brushes the hair that’s fallen loose out of her eyes, blinking blearily past the lightning shadows that stain her eyelids. “ That was, uhm, “ she pops her lips, “ definitely a lot. I have to give kudos for all the lightning especially! “ She claps her hands together, tilting her head to the side. “ Like, genuinely? That part especially blew me away. You’ve definitely got the whole, uhm, “ she waves her hands around vaguely, gesturing at the space in front of them, “ vibe thing down pat. So. Kudos where they’re due! “

But as for as whether she can believe it?

She purses her lips, leans backwards and forwards and back again. Rocks in her chair, even. She’s a magic user, and hardly one based in logic or an understanding of how magic works intimately, so it’s not like she can do much talking when it comes to asking for evidence and the like regardless. That being said...

“ So, I know that, like, trade secrets n’ whatever, buuuuut but but... “ she leans forward once more, eyes scrutinizing the details of the cup. “ Can you give me as much of a run down as you feel you’re allllowwed to... on how this divination thing works? Like. Uhm. “ She taps her chin. “ This cup just met me, how’s it know my whole future? Do I give off some sorta stink that lets it think things like that? What’s it’s dealio? “

[vonochs]

fostered flowers

@gentlenekomata

As she listened to her, a tiny smile appeared on her rosy lips, as she pondered each word of the red-haired girl, actually agreeing with her in so many ways: the necessity of being clean was clearly the  main reason for Sakura as well, but regarding the accuracy of her look, especially when it came to her hair, she was absolutely careful and always put some extra time in her routine just to make sure everything looked fine and in order.

Proceeding with the discourse, she couldn’t help but simply nod at her reflections, since she perfectly knew she was right: the nobility was indeed a heavy burden to carry, especially in her particular situation, but that didn’t necessarily mean that she had to respect every single written word of the etiquette book that she had had to read and study when she was little. She gained her freedom while growing older and she developed her own etiquette to follow, even though not everything was quite compliant to the original one. Besides, anyone could decide on their own, so there was nothing wrong in thinking differently than the majority. It’s a merit, actually.

“Even though, you really are a true beauty!” she giggled, clasping her hands together, fingers intertwining as she proceeded, “And regarding that, I was wondering if you would want to do something with the spare petals remaining from the flower crowns..” she turned, pointing out the table with the previously mentioned ingredients. “We can use them for a nice tea, maybe!” she giggled, already pondering about the possible flavour of the tea, but then, another possibility crossed her mind. “Also, there are some seeds left, so we can eventually plant them in the greenhouse”. In the end, there were these two possibilities, actually an interesting way to learn a little more about Monica.

“What would you like to do?”

-- MONICA’S HANDS FLUTTER towards her face, her expression not... disingenuously flustered, per se, but certainly not unintentionally so. “ Ehhhh? A true beauty? “ She shakes her head. “ Seriseriseri’sly, have you ever taken a peek at Edie? You just need to widen your horizon to all possibilities, pal! “

She turns to the petals, scratching her chin. “ You can use these things for tea? Eh? For real? “ Her mouth knits up into a small and curious pout. “ Hmmm, I will refrain from deceit and admit I’m ‘intrigued’, but planting seeds does sound more practical... and we’re already kinda dirty from mucking around in the dirt, right? “

Thus saying so, Monica lifts her hands up to reveal the grime that’s wormed it’s way underneath her finger nails. “ I think that planting is for the best! “ she settles on.

[vonochs]

fostered flowers

@gentlenekomata

As she listened to her, a tiny smile appeared on her rosy lips, as she pondered each word of the red-haired girl, actually agreeing with her in so many ways: the necessity of being clean was clearly the  main reason for Sakura as well, but regarding the accuracy of her look, especially when it came to her hair, she was absolutely careful and always put some extra time in her routine just to make sure everything looked fine and in order.

Proceeding with the discourse, she couldn’t help but simply nod at her reflections, since she perfectly knew she was right: the nobility was indeed a heavy burden to carry, especially in her particular situation, but that didn’t necessarily mean that she had to respect every single written word of the etiquette book that she had had to read and study when she was little. She gained her freedom while growing older and she developed her own etiquette to follow, even though not everything was quite compliant to the original one. Besides, anyone could decide on their own, so there was nothing wrong in thinking differently than the majority. It’s a merit, actually.

“Even though, you really are a true beauty!” she giggled, clasping her hands together, fingers intertwining as she proceeded, “And regarding that, I was wondering if you would want to do something with the spare petals remaining from the flower crowns..” she turned, pointing out the table with the previously mentioned ingredients. “We can use them for a nice tea, maybe!” she giggled, already pondering about the possible flavour of the tea, but then, another possibility crossed her mind. “Also, there are some seeds left, so we can eventually plant them in the greenhouse”. In the end, there were these two possibilities, actually an interesting way to learn a little more about Monica.

“What would you like to do?”

-- MONICA’S HANDS FLUTTER towards her face, her expression not... disingenuously flustered, per se, but certainly not unintentionally so. “ Ehhhh? A true beauty? “ She shakes her head. “ Seriseriseri’sly, have you ever taken a peek at Edie? You just need to widen your horizon to all possibilities, pal! “

She turns to the petals, scratching her chin. “ You can use these things for tea? Eh? For real? “ Her mouth knits up into a small and curious pout. “ Hmmm, I will refrain from deceit and admit I’m ‘intrigued’, but planting seeds does sound more practical... and we’re already kinda dirty from mucking around in the dirt, right? “

Thus saying so, Monica lifts her hands up to reveal the grime that’s wormed it’s way underneath her finger nails. “ I think that planting is for the best! “ she settles on.

[vonochs]

scripted

starter for @oceansgaywaves​

– HERE’S HOW THINGS were supposed to play out:

Monica von Ochs joins Garreg Mach Monastery. Monica says yes sir and got it and aces her classes and returns home the same as before, but smarter, older, ready to be married off. Monica von Ochs follows a convenient plan.

Instead, here’s how it’s gone

Monica von Ochs, kidnapped. Monica one month gone. Two months gone, four. Monica learning every groove in the wall she’s stared at for a hundred days straight. Monica von Ochs’ random conveniently takes too long, ends messily and straightforwardly.

Monica is new and old to Garreg Mach Monastery, exchanging how-you-do’s with students in her year who forgot her and she, them. Monica tries to follow classes she’s caught herself in the middle of and spends hours in her advisor’s office, trying to reconfigure her curriculum’s order in some way that makes sense for the unlikely hope that she can actually graduate in time.

She sits outside the office’s bench, arms crossed and foot tapping as she stares at the sky. What an absolute, complete bummer and waste of her afternoon. Really, who knows what she’d be doing otherwise, but… wouldn’t be this, certainly!

Her gaze tracks across the lawn, looking for absolutely anything that begs a distraction, until…

Oh. Hey, that’s a new one!

Probably an actual new one. Maybe. Hopefully. Monica catches enough of the particular folds of the Black Eagles uniform to recognize that they’re from her class, and she’s been in and out of the area enough to know most everyone who actually came in the year with her. She’s not perfect by any means, but she’s got enough of a start that she can probably figure out who this is. Maybe.

“ Hey hey, you there! “ she calls out, one hand propped up on the back of the bench and the other wildly waving. “ You’re a new bee-eee, right-o? I bet you’re… uhm, lemme guess! “ She pauses, tapping the tip of her chin. “ You look like a Lyra. Are you a Lyra? Or wait, no! “ Monica shakes her head rapidly. “ Selene! I bet it’s Selene. “

[oceansgaywaves]

Here’s how things played out:

Azura gets captured before she understands what being captured means, though plenty old enough to understand how little anyone at home would care. Azura becomes a political pawn in a country she has never visited before. Azura grows up to become a model princess, making friends with her new family and learning to be neither seen nor heard in a whole new way. Azura meets Corrin, her mirror, her hope. Until…

The young woman snaps back to focus, realizing she had walked much farther than she intended. The crestology laboratory… I need to meet my tutor there in… 5 minutes?! Her eyes scan the nearby buildings on either side of the verdant courtyard she finds herself in, searching for the lab she had been to during her tour (and trying not to look at any of the clock-towers staring into her soul), but it’s all unknown towers and rooms full of strangers. It was on the second floor, right…? Maybe if I go back towards the dormitories… whoa!

A loud, crimson flash erupts in Azura’s peripheral vision, and she whips around, hair splaying out like a storm of sapphire whips.

“…Are you a Lyra? Or wait, no!” Who in the world? The interloper is an energetic redhead, calling out from a nearby bench, shouting a little more forcefully than the distance between them required. Her slight smile manages to beam brighter than her crimson Black Eagles uniform.

“I um, wait, I…” Azura can barely stammer out a word, hushed and under her breath.

“Selene! I bet it’s Selene.”

“My name is… Azura,” She says with a deep exhale, like the space in the conversation is also a space to breathe. Taking a few tentative steps towards the veritable human firecracker, she queries, “Now I really do apologize, but do you need my help? I’m not entirely sure that I recognize you.”

[vonochs]

-- “ AZURA! “ MONICA SNAPS her fingers. “ Darn, that was totally my next guess! Oh well. “ She leans backwards, humming to herself. “ Ya win some, ya lose some. Can’t say I didn’t try my best! Aaaanyways, Zura - can I call you that? - you wouldn’t be willing to do a solid for lil’ ol me, would you? Lil’ ol me being, of course, “ she takes a moment to pose jauntily, “ the wonderful Monica von Ochs, in case you didn’t know! I’m, like, the best red-head! So just remember me that way. “

She turns on her heel, tapping her chin with a single finger as she takes a skip and a step forward. “ So, real speedrun of a sentence here, but I really don’t want to have this meeting. Like, I need to? But it’s a drag. “ She fake belches. “ Something about needing to ‘graduate on time’, or something? But it’s not like I’m short of funds, so I can stay as school as many extra years as I need to. There’s no need to be ‘on time’ for anything in particular. But! “

Monica turns, hands spread out to the side. “ That’s besides the point! I need you, “ she jabs a finger at Azura, “ to request something of me. Something soooo desperate, ‘cause you’re a newbie student and I’m your cool and awesome senior, so I’m the only one who could help you and thus I can definitely get out of this meeting! “

She folds her arms, apparently satisfied with this plan. “ So! “ she says, humming. “ You just need to come up with it for me, that’s all! “

Thanks, Monica.

[vonochs]

scripted

starter for @oceansgaywaves​

-- HERE’S HOW THINGS were supposed to play out:

Monica von Ochs joins Garreg Mach Monastery. Monica says yes sir and got it and aces her classes and returns home the same as before, but smarter, older, ready to be married off. Monica von Ochs follows a convenient plan.

Instead, here’s how it’s gone

Monica von Ochs, kidnapped. Monica one month gone. Two months gone, four. Monica learning every groove in the wall she’s stared at for a hundred days straight. Monica von Ochs’ random conveniently takes too long, ends messily and straightforwardly.

Monica is new and old to Garreg Mach Monastery, exchanging how-you-do’s with students in her year who forgot her and she, them. Monica tries to follow classes she’s caught herself in the middle of and spends hours in her advisor’s office, trying to reconfigure her curriculum’s order in some way that makes sense for the unlikely hope that she can actually graduate in time.

She sits outside the office’s bench, arms crossed and foot tapping as she stares at the sky. What an absolute, complete bummer and waste of her afternoon. Really, who knows what she’d be doing otherwise, but... wouldn’t be this, certainly!

Her gaze tracks across the lawn, looking for absolutely anything that begs a distraction, until...

Oh. Hey, that’s a new one!

Probably an actual new one. Maybe. Hopefully. Monica catches enough of the particular folds of the Black Eagles uniform to recognize that they’re from her class, and she’s been in and out of the area enough to know most everyone who actually came in the year with her. She’s not perfect by any means, but she’s got enough of a start that she can probably figure out who this is. Maybe.

“ Hey hey, you there! “ she calls out, one hand propped up on the back of the bench and the other wildly waving. “ You’re a new bee-eee, right-o? I bet you’re... uhm, lemme guess! “ She pauses, tapping the tip of her chin. “ You look like a Lyra. Are you a Lyra? Or wait, no! “ Monica shakes her head rapidly. “ Selene! I bet it’s Selene. “

[vonochs]

fostered flowers

[gentlenekomata]

As she listened to Monica’s statements, Sakura put her index finger on her lips, posing in a wondering expression since she didn’t really ever think about something like this: is there a reason to be like this, all the time? Did she learn it from someone close? All questions she never explored, yet it was indeed a good call to be into that argument and to discover something new about herself, especially with the help of such cute and gentle girl like Monica.

“I admit that I’ve never pondered about it” she said softly, index finger still laying on her rosy lips, until she creased them in a curious smile, “I like being able to make other people happy, that’s for sure–“ she interrupted herself for a moment, actually focusing on the real question –which she kind of avoid, until now. Why do I always have to look cute, like a blooming flowers? She quickly reflected on those words, not really want to keep the red-haired girl on linger for too much. She eventually came to a seeming conclusion.

“I probably saw how my mother used to be always so beautiful in every occasion and all by myself, I started to groom my body and appearance, ending up taking care of the ones of my brothers and sister too” she lastly giggled, remembering a funny episode of Hinoka trying to apply an hair brooch to her, without a very great success.

“You look very pretty too” she added, lowering her gaze for a moment, as she wasn’t used to compliments, “But what is that necessity you mentioned before?” she returned serious, being actually really curious about her past and her life.

[vonochs]

-- “ NECESSITY, AS IN, I don’t want to stink! “ Monica waves a hand in front of her face, laughing lightly. “ I’d call myself plain and to the point, but that’s not really true; I do like spending time doing little things to feel nice and clean, but that extra effort into detail... I can’t say I ever pay attention to that! “ She laughs once more, higher-pitched and tinkle-y. “ However people see me is totes whatever. If I cared more about looking nice, then I would want them to see me as a person who cares about that sort of thing. But I don’t! At least, “ she pauses. “ Er. I don’t think so? “

She shakes her head. No need to let determining what she was bother her right now.

Monica listens as Sakura continues on. “ Your mother, hm? “ she muses, nodding thoughtfully. “ Makes sense; my mom’s pretty, well, pretty too! Being part of nobility seems to make that important for most people ‘round these parts, but... eh. Like I said, a bit too much of a drag for me. So long as my hair’s outta the way and my pits manage to keep from stinking, then, well... “ She pulls her arms upwards, letting the excuses she calls muscles hold themselves up before laughing, sticking them out to the side. “ I’m cool! “

[vonochs]

-- “ NECESSITY, AS IN, I don’t want to stink! “ Monica waves a hand in front of her face, laughing lightly. “ I’d call myself plain and to the point, but that’s not really true; I do like spending time doing little things to feel nice and clean, but that extra effort into detail... I can’t say I ever pay attention to that! “ She laughs once more, higher-pitched and tinkle-y. “ However people see me is totes whatever. If I cared more about looking nice, then I would want them to see me as a person who cares about that sort of thing. But I don’t! At least, “ she pauses. “ Er. I don’t think so? “

She shakes her head. No need to let determining what she was bother her right now.

Monica listens as Sakura continues on. “ Your mother, hm? “ she muses, nodding thoughtfully. “ Makes sense; my mom’s pretty, well, pretty too! Being part of nobility seems to make that important for most people ‘round these parts, but... eh. Like I said, a bit too much of a drag for me. So long as my hair’s outta the way and my pits manage to keep from stinking, then, well... “ She pulls her arms upwards, letting the excuses she calls muscles hold themselves up before laughing, sticking them out to the side. “ I’m cool! “

[diadic]

jet boosters on the trolley

vonochs​:

– JUST KEEP TALKING. Like that was something easy– ugh! Monica would have huffed if she had the breath to do so. Instead, she spins backwards, flailing one arm around wildly to bang against the variety of trees surrounding them.

“ C’mon, you big lummox! “ she screams loud enough that her voice cracks. Honestly, super embarrassing. Whatever, not like Leif seemed to be one to be a tattle tale on someone not being at their utterly cutest. “ I’m the one you want, right? “

Having thus said so, she turns back around sharply; just soon enough that she catches herself on the edge of a hill. Gasping, she can’t do anything but let the momentum carry her further, falling onto her ass and sliding forward. She’s picking up speed, sure, and staying decently ahead of the monkey, but keeping her clothes clean and untorn after the fact…

…well, that was a problem for after the fact!

    Gods, she led it to the edge of a hill? He looks up, sees the back of the monkey, its blade, and the front of the scarlet-haired girl, against a bright blue sky and nothing else behind them.

It just meant he only had one chance to do this.

Following them up the hill, he starts to run, dashing up the hill as he draws his blade out of its sheath, and roars:

“ DON’T MOVE!! ”

It’s utterly guttural as he aims the light spell from his blade to push the monkey’s blade to the side, to force the pet’s balance one way, the most predictive he can possibly influence the creature to be, and then barrels into his target, using not his sword to subdue it but instead his bare arms to capture it like it were an embrace from behind, blade sheathed back just in time before he’s grabbed his quarry, using his own force and momentum to help carry him where he was unable to truly knock the monkey out…

…only to be sent rolling, the monkey’s own blade sent flying into the sky and then back into the earth of the top of the hill, but that is seconds after the three souls that were there are no longer.

In the end, the three of them tumble down, crashing into the waves of the ocean view that the other side of the hill had granted its happiest tourists and instead now granted these three exhaustion.

By the time Leif and Monica are back, the pet is passed out in the prince’s arms still, wet but still alive, and the prince himself has a few new bruises to call his own.

He looks to Monica then at his side.  “ …Are you alright? ”  His expression twists as he admits,  “ …That sure was troublesome. ”

[vonochs]

-- MONICA’S BODY UNDERSTANDS the command faster than she does, muscles tensing up as she hears the commotion besides her. It is only as the gravity of the situation (quite literally) catches up to her that her arms grow limp in the tumbling, her elbows bouncing against the sides of the hill and sending her flying forwards.

It’s exhilarating in a way that... doesn’t frighten her, for once. She does not realize that the laughter she hears chasing her comes from her own mouth until she’s sitting upright at the bottom of the gorge, torn tights and lost buttons and all.

“ Alright? Troublesome? Leif, that was fun! “ She leans backwards, arms splayed out to the side as her breath escapes her further. “ How many people can say they jousted with a monkey like that? Hehe, “ she pushes herself up, flicking Leif’s nose. “ Thanks for being the one I could do this with, pal! “

It was straightforward, but she’s grateful for the freedom the encounter brought her nonetheless. She reaches forward to ruffle the monkey’s hair, unconscious at is it.

-- thread fin.

[vonochs]

gentlenekomata​:

teach me your ways | Sakura & Monica

Rusalka is an idyllic territory by the coast. It’s easy to see why anyone would be captivated by the sun, the sea breeze, and the high, rocky cliffs overlooking the shimmering ocean. The people in the port city seem friendly enough, but few seem to recall seeing any knights around lately. This is the biggest city in the area though, so someone is bound to come through at some point. With the shopping and the weather as good as it is, no time like the present to have a little vacation while you wait for leads then, right? Beach day! Maybe even try your hand at what the locals call “surfing.” [Grants Riding +1]

starter for @vonochs​ 

The petite priestess usually didn’t take any kind of vacation or pause from her duties and commitments, but around this period of the year, she knew there was a rather cool and interesting place not so far from the monastery and practically by the coast: it was the territory of Rusalka, a beautiful landscape dotted by clean beaches, lovely villages and small cities, all around nothing but hills and cliffs that directly sunk in the deep blue ocean. A very popular place indeed, especially for short holidays –better a long one, but with all the tasks in the monastery, all she could be happy with, was merely a day, but at least it was a good sunny day!

Speaking of which, with no further thinking, the auburn-haired girl took a small backpack with all the things she needed for a beach day – the sunscreen, the beach towel, a book, a pair of sunglasses, just in case – and wearing the cutest swimsuit she had and an adorable straw hat, she set her way towards the first free beach she encountered on her journey, already imagining all the activities she could do on her own to enjoy her free day: she immediately took a small portion of the beach and set her colourful beach towel, soon after she was already playing with sand, making some little cute sand castles, while looking around the surroundings, since it actually already was full of people from all around the area.

As a matter of facts, while tempting another construction-alike, she eyed a familiar figure with a rather strange object held in her hands – a long wooden board, nothing she had ever seen around, but definitely caught all her attention, especially since she was about to do something quite amusing. Or at least, that was what Sakura thought as she stood from her place, shook off the sand from her swimsuit and ran towards the familiar red-haired girl, who grinned happily at the sight of her: the two of them have acquainted not so long ago, during a festive event and Sakura grew a pure liking for that young girl.

“Monica!! Glad to see you here too!” she said with a gentle puff as she arrived at destination, “What is this funny object you’re holding?” she inquired, a quizzical look on her face as she walked around to give a better look at the unknown item.

-- AFTER HER ENCOUNTER with Hubert, Monica had taken to spending the rest of the day more entrenched in the sand. Now wearing something a touch more appropriate as beach attire, she had sat down, stared directly at the sun, decided that was a horrible idea, and focused on the ground around her instead.

The man selling her the swimsuit had handed her other items as well; a shovel that seemed more attune to gardening, and some glass-like mold for, uh. 

“ A castle! “ he had explained excitedly, hands wrung out to the side. “ It’s all the trend now, trust me! My daughter adores this sort of a thing. “

Freebies were freebies, so she had taken it with a bit of a quirked brow and a shrug. Even if it meant that she sat there with two odd contraptions that she truly did not fully know how they worked.

“ Oh! Hey, Sakura! “ She waves with both of her hands at the younger girl. “ Uhmm, honestly, I really, truly wish I could tell you but, uh. “ She shrugs her shoulders. “ You’re welcome to take a look at ‘em and try and guess what they are yourself, but I’m at a loss. “

[vonochs]

teneguine​:

vonochs​:

Pumpkin’s Vice

So she’s seen right through his façade. At this academy, that is a first. Time and time again have his overexaggerated tales of wonder gone completely unchecked, believed at first glance, or simply found entertaining. Never has he been told he’s completely bullshitting someone, with the closest thing being a gruff ‘get out of my sight’ from those who his presence annoys. To hear Monica cast doubt on him is… Surprising. Unnerving.

(And honestly, for the better. If everyone begins to understand the language of Owain Dark, you won’t stand out anymore. You’ll drop the act, speak without your epic lilt.) 

“I- Hey! I’m trying my best, alright?” If it is a show she wants, then it is a show she shall get. Odin decides to dig deeper into his fate, and in doing so, put a bit of his learned magic to use. Hand swirls around the rim of his cup, and discreetly scatters sparks of his Thunder spell where tea meets porcelain. He raises that hand into the air, and the lightning dances until he can make it vaguely resemble a smiling face. Emphasis on vaguely. 

“There! Do you see now? This is a sign from my heroic destiny, telling me that in the end, all shall be well! Perhaps I only fight my former comrades in a dream… No, wait!” The thunder drops, with Odin too invested in this fantastical plotline to care about maintaining it, “I’ve got it! They’ll be possessed by some malevolent force! Yes! In facing them as the sole survivor, I shall break their curse, and return their free will to them like the mighty hand-axe of Bartre!” 

Odin knows that sounds as cool and narratively complex as it does untrue. He sighs, sitting back down, letting his shoulders slouch to almost match Monica’s. This angle isn’t going to work anymore. “…Look, I’ll get there one day. I have a child with the gift of prophecy, so surely that talent must lie somewhere in my blood…” Strangely enough, that is the one truth he’s spoken today. And it is also the true reason for his interest in tasseomancy. Reading the lines of fate comes so naturally to Ophelia, and though Odin fantasizes and dreams of all sorts of realities, none ever come to him with the same level of assurance that his kin has. So what is their secret…? 

Through trial and error, he hopes to uncover it.

“Just let me practice on you, alright?” he adds, tone sounding normal for once, if he’s going to be perfectly transparent with her, “If you don’t like your fortune, you’re free to do everything in your power to not make it come true.” 

-- ...WELL, THE EFFORT is endearing, she’ll admit that much. Monica raises an eyebrow as Odin’s hands reveal a misshapen smile. It’s not much, but compared to the lump it had been before that, it’s something.

She nods her way through his spectacle of a ramble. If she wasn’t beset by something toeing the line of anxiety (though it’d never actually be anxiety, gods forbid she feel something like that), maybe she’d have been more willing to play along with a story that was equal parts entertaining and fake.

“ ...hey, ‘s the thought that counts, right? “ Monica gives him one (1) singular pat on the shoulder before pausing, annoyance creeping through once more. “ Actually, take the time to chew on some mint, ‘lrighty? Calm down. “

She swallows deeply. For all her lack of perception, she can tell that this conversation is not going well and it’s like. Maybe, potentially, her fault. Big oops.

Practice. Okay, she can do that. She can let that happen, grimace and all. Monica leans back, trying her best to act all casual-like. “ Sure, okay, “ she says with a sigh. “ I can do that for ya. Just sit here, right? Then that sounds. “ Eh. “ ...fine. “

“ So fortune’s got a choice? “ She tilts her head. “ Thought this sorta fate thing was unchangable n’ all. At least, according to folks like you. “

[vonochs]

progress update !!

months passed since last update: august, october ( +2 points ) events passed since last update: toa unscripted ( +2 knowledge gems, red beads, vacuum slice, edge of eden )

skill points gained: 2 total skill points: 9 -> 11 skill point allocation: reason ( c --> c+ )

[vonochs]

diadic​:

jet boosters on the trolley

    “ I’m fine! ”  Good that Monica managed to sound alright too, judging by how much more dangerous their mark was now. How it managed to get its hands on a blade was beyond him, but it didn’t need to be figured out how it got it. The more pressing issue was figuring out how to manage their mission without compromising the master’s request!!

But it’s okay. He’s done things like this all the time. This was basically the backbone of his fighting in Thracia…!

“ If you can keep talking, that’d help! It’s following you, right?! ”  

At least, it’s definitely not hunting for him, and Monica’s voice sounds fairly distressed. He just needed to corner it and…

“ Lead it and stay alive! I’ll rescue you!! ”

-- JUST KEEP TALKING. Like that was something easy-- ugh! Monica would have huffed if she had the breath to do so. Instead, she spins backwards, flailing one arm around wildly to bang against the variety of trees surrounding them.

“ C’mon, you big lummox! “ she screams loud enough that her voice cracks. Honestly, super embarrassing. Whatever, not like Leif seemed to be one to be a tattle tale on someone not being at their utterly cutest. “ I’m the one you want, right? “

Having thus said so, she turns back around sharply; just soon enough that she catches herself on the edge of a hill. Gasping, she can’t do anything but let the momentum carry her further, falling onto her ass and sliding forward. She’s picking up speed, sure, and staying decently ahead of the monkey, but keeping her clothes clean and untorn after the fact...

...well, that was a problem for after the fact!

[vonochs]

heartoftheloathsome​:

our get along shirt

Hubert’s sunglasses sit high on the curve of his nose, round and opaque in a way that comforts him to no end. If it were socially acceptable to wear sunglasses all the time as a way to conceal the swimming thoughts behind his eyes, he would do it—no question at all. He thanks these sunglasses for the moment because a flash of wrath lights up in his eyes at Monica’s suggestion.  His lips tighten into a thin, exasperated, try-not-to-scream line. 

“It looks like a ton of danger. If you want to, go ahead. If you get hurt, you’d only be doing yourself a favor by making yourself a liability,” Hubert remarks with a devilish smirk. 

Monica is like a crimson, wide-eyed blotch on his conscience. A bloodstain he can’t seem to wash off. In a perfect world, the two of them would get along. They have shared interests… he supposes. Reluctantly. He actually quite likes her grungy outfit and makeup; it suits her very well. In fact, he even envies Monica in some ways, with her avidity towards life and all things Edelgard von Hresvelg. Whilst Hubert cannot give her any real credit—for her work towards Lady Edelgard’s cause pales in comparison to Hubert’s own, obviously—he can acknowledge her valiant persistence. Annoying? Yes. Admirable? Also, yes. 

But would he ever admit that? For the love of Seiros, no.

Anyway, he peels back the wrapper of his popsicle. It’s quite loud, and Hubert is fully aware of that. He looks to Monica and raises his eyebrows condescendingly as his glasses conveniently fall down his nose just a tad. He grins something devious before turning his glare towards the horizon and bringing the popsicle to his mouth.

-- THE CORNERS OF her mouth dip at Hubert’s reluctance to spend time with her in exactly the manner she’d hoped for, the scoundrel. And then--

And then--!

“ You’ve got a popsicle?! “ She huffs, hands balled up in fists at her side. “ H-Hubie, when’d you get that?! Seriously!! “ She makes as if to swipe the treat, but he’s so damn tall that it, frankly, is in no way fair. “ And you didn’t get one for me too? Ugh! “

Or so she says, but the thought of eating a popsicle is enough to turn her stomach. Sweets have never been something she’s been incredibly privy to, even if she’s enjoyed a nice tart here or there, but it’s the principle of the matter that has her indignant. 

“ Well! Suit yourself, “ she sighs over-dramatically, arms crossed in as stereotypical of an ‘annoyed little kid’ pose she can muster. She tracks his gaze across the sand, catching sight of the horizon line. It’s clear, now, with the sky clearer than she’s ever seen it at the monastery and the sun high and bright. Later, yellows and oranges will crest the horizon line and cast shadows along the shoreline, but for now, the tone is far less mellow.

Which, of course, means that Monica must suit the mood.

Determined, she crouches down and begins fervently digging at the sand around Hubert’s feet, hands swinging. “ If you don’t wanna go to the water, we’ll have to do that other beach thing, right? “ she says. “ Burying you all up! “

[vonochs]

fostered flowers

cont from here with @gentlenekomata

-- MONICA LEANS BACK, her gaze tracking over Sakura’s head in the hundred-yard stare she’s caught herself falling into far too frequently before she catches herself and nods. Flowers are flowers, even under the hands of someone crude, and for all their disparity and lost petals they look nice, on top of Sakura’s head.

“ Cute! “ she chimes in, clasping her hands together. “ Ehh, it’s not fair, y’know, that you’re able to get away with being so cute all the time! “ She wags a finger with a playful pout on her face.

She sits back on her heels, humming to herself for a moment before saying, “ Have to ask, though! Did you get it from someone? Taking the time to be pretty, I mean. I... “ Monica pulls at her cuticles, hums, says, “ I’ve gotta be clean, ‘cause dirt just feels awwwwful on me, and living outside of the sweaty stench sooo many people have makes me feel a lil’ better, y’know? But that isn’t something I picked up on from anyone; if anything, kinda got that from necessity! “

[vonochs]

❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink .

— IF IT WAS up to her, Monica would have let it burn.

The bread had been sitting in the oven for aaages, but what was another five minutes at this point? When the fire had started to catch, she’d thrown her hands up and been content to watch it burn. It was only on Patty’s insistence that she had rescued it as best she can, charred flakes rolling off the sides.

But the insides were…

“ ‘shurpeishingly good! “ she manages around a mouthful. And it was true; they were gooey and soft and just the perfect consistency to eat right out the oven, once you scraped off the burned bits. She grabs a sizable portion and places it in front of the other girl, swallowing thickly. “ And this one’s for you! “

[vonochs]

advantages of have-nots

-- SOMETIMES, MONICA WOULD have laid on the floor.

Her mom would cluck her tongue, cast her glance over her and say something along the lines of “ don’t do that ”, just as any self-respecting parent would do when they saw their child lounging about, but the results usually ended up being more or less the same: the prompt meant that Monica’d do nothing more than curl up further, than allow herself to pick at the crust that’d appear in the cracks of the floor and giggle to herself.

It was novel, after all. Laying on the floor brought a whole different perspective to the world and her tasks in the most literal of senses. Eating food felt all the more exciting when her head was cocked at such an angle that she ran the risk of choking herself, and the thought process carried on to far more dangerous things like riding a horse or sliding down the roof of their home.

The change, the thrill of it all from doing oh, so little on her part, by doing nothing more than making the slightest of tweaks to her life in order to experience something so vastly different: that’s what threatened joy for her, just those few times. Those moments when things that were different were good.

Edelgard’s shift was different.

When someone’s hair goes from brown to white, you typically think they’d dyed it. That’s what Monica had assumed, what she’d stated when the girl showed up in front of her again.

The details, well...

She’d never been proven wrong, at the very least, so she had little reason to assume otherwise! If Edelgard had a bit more awkward to play with after that fact - when she had the time to play with her at all, really - then it wasn’t for her to pry.

It was skewed it was different it was wrong, and although Monica couldn’t- wouldn’t- shouldn’t be able to place a name to that feeling, no one could, she scratches at the back of such a thought when her hands are tied behind her back and she finds herself on the floor once more.

She was there for three months. For three months she thought about her mother telling her to get up. For three months she thought- Edelgard.

Why? She’d only seen the girl again in passing when she’d returned to the school, offered a few meek and kind greetings but never enough to think that she’d actually made an impression to the girl, never enough to get her clogged up in her brain. Nausea accompanied her on that floor in the same way that longing threatened to, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why the latter seemed so pertinent in her head.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe I’ll see her again, get out of here and figure something out.

She had, ish... no, she had, period. she’d been lifted up by the scruff of her neck like a wet kitten and dredged back up into the Monastery. She’d passed by Edelgard and smiled primly and it’d been enough and fine and the questions in the back of her head only got worse and worse and--

AGH.

There’s nothing worse than the intense memory of second-hand embarrassment, and it hits Monica just as class draws to a close. All she can do is bury her head into her hands as the thought chases her though her mind, sighing fervently and then glancing back upwards.

She’s there. Right there, y’know.

That’s right. Not a single thing is preventing her from getting up and extending a hand, from warbling through a greeting, to-

Ah. She’s there already. Hm.

Monica finds herself on the floor all again, fumbling to find words for once in her life. “ Uuuhm, Edel? “ She’d hummed, hands wrapped round her back. “ You wouldn’t happen to have, uhm, “ what, “ aaaa... cat food? “ and???? “ To. Erhm. Feed the cats, you know. They’ve been ‘round campus soooo much, we really should have a squad dedicated to taking care of them all! Lest they grow hungry and all that. “

Nailed it, in all your fabulous failure.

@hresvelged